"The removal of the well known horses taken from the church of St. Mark
in Venice, was a bitter mortification to the people of Paris. These had
been peculiarly the objects of popular pride and admiration. Being
exposed to the public view, in one of the most frequented situations of
Paris, this was esteemed the noblest trophy belonging to the capital;
and there was not a Parisian vender of a pail-full of water who did not
look like a hero when the Venetian horses were spoken of.
"'Have you heard what has been determined about the horses?' was every
foreigner's question. 'Oh! they cannot mean to take the horses away,'
was every Frenchman's answer. On the morning of Thursday, the 26th of
September, 1815, however it was whispered that they had been at work all
night in loosening them from their fastening. It was soon confirmed
that this was true--and the French then had nothing left for it, but to
vow, that if the allies were to attempt to touch them in the _daylight_,
Paris would rise at once, exterminate its enemies, and rescue its honor.
On Friday morning I walked through the square; it was clear that some
considerable change had taken place; the forms of the horses appeared
finer than I had ever before witnessed. When looking to discover what
had been done, a private of the British staff corps came up, 'You see,
sir, we took away the harness last night,' said he. 'You have made a
great improvement by so doing,' I replied; 'but are the British employed
on this work?' The man said that the Austrians had requested the
assistance of our staff corps, for it included better workmen than any
they had in their service. I heard that an angry French mob had given
some trouble to the people employed on the Thursday night, but that a
body of Parisian gendarmerie had dispersed the assemblage. The Frenchmen
continued their sneers against the allies for working in the dark: fear
and shame were the causes assigned. 'If you take them at all, why not
take them in the face of day? But you are too wise to drag upon
yourselves the irresistible popular fury, which such a sight would
excite against you!'
"On the night of Friday, the order of proceeding was entirely changed.
It had been found proper to call out a strong guard of Austrians, horse
and foot. The mob had been charged by the cavalry, and it was said that
several had their limbs broken. I expected to find the place on Saturday
morning quiet and open as usual; but when I reached its entrance, what
an impressive scene presented itself! The delicate plan--for such in
truth it was--of working by night, was now over. The Austrians had
wished to spare the feelings of the king the pain of seeing his capital
dismantled before his palace windows, where he passed in his carriage
when he went out for his daily exercise. But the acute feelings of the
people rendered severer measures necessary. My companion and myself were
stopped from entering the place by Austrian dragoons: a large mob of
Frenchmen were collected here, standing on tip-toe to catch the arch in
the distance, on the top of which the ominous sight of numbers of
workmen, busy about the horses, was plainly to be distinguished. We
advanced again to the soldiers: some of the French, by whom we were
surrounded, said, 'Whoever you are, you will not be allowed to pass.' I
confess I was for retiring--for the whole assemblage, citizens and
soldiers, seemed to wear an angry and alarming aspect. But my companion
was eager for admittance. He was put back again by an Austrian
hussar:--'_What, not the English!_' he exclaimed in his own language.
The mob laughed loudly, when they heard the foreign soldier so
addressed; but the triumph was ours; way was instantly made for us--and
an officer on duty, close by, touched his helmet as we passed.
"The king and princes had left the Tuilleries, to be out of the view of
so mortifying a business The court of the palace, which used to be gay
with young _gardes du corps_ and equipages, was now silent, deserted,
and shut up. Not a soul moved in it. The top of the arch was filled with
people, and the horses, though as yet all there, might be seen to begin
to move. The carriages that were to take them away were in waiting
below, and a tackle of ropes was already affixed to one. The small door
leading to the top was protected by a strong guard: every one was
striving to obtain permission to gratify his curiosity, by visiting the
horses for the last time that they could be visited in this situation.
Permission, however, could necessarily be granted but to few. I was of
the fortunate number. In a minute I had climbed the narrow dark stair,
ascended a small ladder, and was out on the top, with the most
picturesque view before me that can be imagined. An English lady asked
me to assist her into Napoleon's car of victory: his own statue was to
have been placed in it, _when he came back a conqueror from his Russian
expedition!_ I followed the lady and her husband into the car, and we
found a Prussian officer there before us. He looked at us, and, with a
good humored smile, said, 'The emperor kept the English out of France,
but the English have now got where he could not! '_Ah, pauvre,
Napoleon!_'
"The cry of the French now was, that it was abominable, execrable, to
insult the king in his palace--to insult him in the face of his own
subjects by removing the horses in the face of day! I adjourned with a
friend to dine at a _restaurateur's_, near the garden of the Tuilleries,
after witnessing what I have described. Between seven and eight in the
evening we heard the rolling of wheels, the clatter of cavalry, and the
tramp of infantry. A number of British were in the room; they all rose
and rushed to the door without hats, and carrying in their haste their
white table napkins in their hands. The horses were going past in
military procession, lying on their sides, in separate cars. First came
cavalry, then infantry, then a car; then more cavalry, more infantry,
then another car; and so on till all four passed. The drums were
beating, and the standards went waving by. This was the only appearance
of parade that attended any of the removals. Three Frenchmen, seeing the
group of English, came up to us, and began a conversation. They appealed
to us if this was not shameful. A gentleman observed, that the horses
were only going back to the place from whence the French had taken them:
if there was a right in power for France, there must also be one for
other states but the better way to consider these events was as
terminating the times of robbery and discord. Two of them seemed much
inclined to come instantly round to our opinion: but one was much more
consistent. He appeared an officer, and was advanced beyond the middle
age of life. He kept silence for a moment; and then, with strong
emphasis, said--'You have left me nothing for my children but hatred
against England; this shall be my legacy to them.'"--_Scott._