THE HISTORY OF A CRIME THE TESTIMONY OF AN EYE-WITNESS BY VICTOR HUGO THE FIRST DAY—

THE HISTORY OF A CRIME THE TESTIMONY OF

AN EYE-WITNESS BY VICTOR HUGO THE FIRST

DAY—

 

THE AMBUSH. CHAPTER I. "SECURITY" On December 1, 1851, 

Charras shrugged his shoulder and unloaded his pistols. In 

truth, the belief in the possibility of a coup d'état had become 

humiliating. The supposition of such illegal violence on the part 

of M. Louis Bonaparte vanished upon serious consideration. 

The great question of the day was manifestly the Devincq 

election; it was clear that the Government was only thinking of 

that matter. As to a conspiracy against the Republic and against 

the People, how could anyone premeditate such a plot? Where 

was the man capable of entertaining such a dream? There must be an actor for a tragedy, and here assuredly the actor 

was wanting. To outrage Right, to suppress the Assembly, to 

abolish the Constitution, to strangle the Republic, to overthrow 

the Nation, to sully the Flag, to dishonor the Army, to suborn 

the Clergy and the Magistracy, to succeed, to triumph, to 

govern, to administer, to exile, to banish, to transport, to ruin, 

to assassinate, to reign, with such complicities that the law at 

last resembles a foul bed of corruption. What! All these 

enormities were to be committed! And by whom? By a 

Colossus? No, by a dwarf. People laughed at the notion. They 

no longer said "What a crime!" but "What a farce!" For after all 

they reflected; heinous crimes require stature. Certain crimes 

are too lofty for certain hands. A man who would achieve an 

18th Brumaire must have Arcola in his past and Austerlitz in his 

future. The art of becoming a great scoundrel is not accorded to 

the firstcomer. People said to themselves, Who is this son of 

Hortense? He has Strasbourg behind him instead of Arcola, and 

Boulogne in place of Austerlitz. He is a Frenchman, born a 

Dutchman, and naturalized a Swiss; he is a Bonaparte crossed 

with a Verhuell; he is only celebrated for the ludicrousness of 

his imperial attitude, and he who would pluck a feather from 

his eagle would risk finding a goose's quill in his hand. This 

Bonaparte does not pass currency in the array, he is a 

counterfeit image less of gold than of lead, and assuredly 

French soldiers will not give us the change for this false 

Napoleon in rebellion, in atrocities, in massacres, in outrages, in 

treason. If he should attempt roguery it would miscarry. Not a 

regiment would stir. Besides, why should he make such an 

attempt? Doubtless, he has his suspicious side, but why suppose 

he is an absolute villain? Such extreme outrages are beyond 

him; he is incapable of them physically, so why judge him as capable 

of them morally? Has he not pledged honor? Has he not said, 

"No one in Europe doubts my word?" Let us fear nothing. To 

this could be answered, Crimes are committed either on a 

grand or on a mean scale. In the first category there is Caesar; 

in the second there is Mandarin. Caesar passes the Rubicon, 

Mandrin bestrides the gutter. But wise men interposed, "Are 

Are we not prejudiced by offensive conjectures? This man has been 

exiled and unfortunate. Exile enlightens, misfortune corrects." 

For his part, Louis Bonaparte protested energetically. Facts 

abounded in his favor. Why should he not act in good faith? He 

had made remarkable promises. Towards the end of October, 

1848, then a candidate for the Presidency, he was calling at No. 

37, Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne, on a certain personage, to 

whom he remarked, "I wish to have an explanation with you. 

They slander me. Do I give you the impression of a madman? 

They think that I wish to revivify Napoleon. There are two men 

whom a great ambition can take for its models, Napoleon and 

Washington. The one is a man of Genius, the other is a man of 

Virtue. It is ridiculous to say, 'I will be a man of Genius;' it is 

honest to say, 'I will be a man of Virtue.' Which of these 

depends upon ourselves? Which can we accomplish by our will? 

To be a Genius? No. To be Probity? Yes. The attainment of Genius 

is not possible; the attainment of Probity is a possibility. And 

what could I revive of Napoleon? One sole thing—a crime. Truly 

a worthy ambition! Why should I be considered a man? The 

Republic being established, I am not a great man, I shall not 

copy Napoleon, but I am an honest man. I shall imitate 

Washington. My name, the name of Bonaparte, will be 

inscribed on two pages of the history of France: on the first, 

there will be crime and glory, on the second probity and honor. 

And the second will perhaps be worth the first. Why? Because if 

Napoleon is the greater, and Washington is the better man. 

Between the guilty hero and the good citizen, I choose the good 

citizen. Such is my ambition." From 1848 to 1851 three years 

elapsed. People had long suspected Louis Bonaparte, but 

long-continued suspicion blunts the intellect and wears itself out 

by fruitless alarms. Louis Bonaparte had dissimulating 

ministers such as Magne and Rouher, but he also had 

straightforward ministers such as Léon Faucher and Odilon 

Barrot, and these last affirmed that he was upright and 

sincere. He had been seen to beat his breast before the doors 

of Ham; his foster sister, Madame Hortense Cornu, wrote to 

Mieroslawsky, "I am a good Republican, and I can answer for 

him." His friend of Ham, Peauger, a loyal man, declared, "Louis 

Bonaparte is incapable of treason." Had not Louis Bonaparte 

written the work entitled "Pauperism"? In the intimate circles 

of the Elysée Count Potocki was a Republican and Count 

d'Orsay was a Liberal; Louis Bonaparte said to Potocki, "I am a 

man of the Democracy," and to D'Orsay, "I am a man of 

Liberty." The Marquis du Hallays opposed the coup d'état, while 

the Marquise du Hallays was in its favor. Louis Bonaparte said 

to the Marquis, "Fear nothing" (he indeed whispered to 

the Marquise, "Make your mind easy"). The Assembly, after 

having shown here and there some symptoms of uneasiness, 

had grown calm. There was General Neumayer, "who was to be 

depended upon," and who from his position at Lyons would at 

need march upon Paris. Changarnier exclaimed, 

"Representatives of the people, deliberate in peace." Even 

Louis Bonaparte himself had pronounced these famous words, 

"I should see an enemy of my country in anyone who would 

change by force that which has been established by law,", 

moreover, the Army was a "force," and the Army possessed 

leaders, leaders who were beloved and victorious. Lamoricière, 

Changarnier, Cavaignac, Leflô, Bedeau, Charras; how could anyone imagine the Army of Africa arresting the Generals of Africa? 

On Friday, November 28, 1851, Louis Bonaparte said to Michel 

de Bourges, "If I wanted to do wrong, I could not. Yesterday, 

Thursday, I invited to my table five Colonels of the garrison of 

Paris and the whim seized me to question each one by himself. 

All five declared to me that the Army would never lend itself to 

a coup de force, nor attack the inviolability of the Assembly. 

You can tell your friends this."—"He smiled," said 

Michel de Bourges reassured, "and I also smiled." After this, 

Michel de Bourges declared in the Tribune, "This is the man for 

me." In that same month of November a satirical journal, 

charged with calumniating the President of the Republic, was 

sentenced to fine and imprisonment for a caricature depicting a 

shooting gallery and Louis Bonaparte using the Constitution as 

a target. Morigny, Minister of the Interior, declared in the 

Council before the President "that a Guardian of Public Power 

ought never to violate the law as otherwise he would be—" "a 

dishonest man," interposed the President. All these words and 

all these facts were notorious. The material and moral 

impossibility of the coup d'état was manifest to all. To outrage 

the National Assembly! To arrest the Representatives! What 

madness! As we have seen, Charras, who had long remained on 

his guard, unloaded his pistols. The feeling of security was 

complete and unanimous. Nevertheless, there were some of us 

in the Assembly who still retained a few doubts, and who 

occasionally shook our heads, but we were looked upon as 

fools. 

CHAPTER II. PARIS SLEEPS—THE BELL RINGS On the 2d 

December 1851, Representative Versigny, of the Haute-Saône, 

who resided at Paris, at No. 4, Rue Léonie, was asleep. He slept 

soundly; he had been working till late at night. Verisign was a 

young man of thirty-two, soft-featured and fair-complexioned, of 

a courageous spirit, and a mind tending towards social and 

economic studies. He had passed the first hours of the night in 

the perusal of a book by Bastiat, in which he was making marginal 

notes, and, leaving the book open on the table, he had fallen 

asleep. Suddenly he awoke with a start at the sound of a sharp 

ring at the bell. He sprang up in surprise. It was dawn. It was 

about seven o'clock in the morning. Never dreaming what could 

be the motive for so early a visit, and thinking that someone had 

mistaken the door, he again lay down, and was about to resume 

his slumber, when a second ring at the bell, still louder than the 

first, completely aroused him. He got up in his night-shirt and 

opened the door. Michel de Bourges and 

Théodore Bac entered. Michel de Bourges was the neighbor of 

Versigny; he lived at No. 16, Rue de Milan. Théodore Bac and 

Michel were pale and appeared greatly agitated. "Versigny," 

said Michel, "Dress yourself at once—Baune has just been 

arrested." "Bah!" exclaimed Versigny. "Is the Mauguin business 

beginning again?" "It is more than that," replied Michel. 

"Baune's wife and daughter came to me half an hour ago. They 

awoke me. Baune was arrested in bed at six o'clock this 

morning." "What does that mean?" asked Versigny. The bell 

rang again. "This will probably tell us," answered Michel de 

Bourges. Verisign opened the door. It was the Representative 

Pierre Lefranc. He brought, in truth, the solution of the enigma. 

"Do you know what is happening?" said he. "Yes," answered 

Michel. "Baune is in prison." "It is the Republic who is a 

prisoner," said Pierre Lefranc. "Have you read the placards?" 

"No." Pierre Lefranc explained to them that the walls at that 

moment were covered with placards which the curious crowd 

was thronging to read, that he had glanced over one of them 

at the corner of his street, and that the blow had fallen. "The 

blow!" exclaimed Michel. "Say rather the crime." Pierre Lefranc 

added that there were three placards—one decree and two 

proclamations—all three on white paper, and pasted close 

together. The decree was printed in large letters. The 

exConstituent Laissac, who lodged, like Michel de Bourges, in 

the neighborhood (No. 4, Cité Gaillard), then came in. He 

brought the same news and announced further arrests which 

had been made during the night. There was not a minute to 

lose. They went to impart the news to Yvan, the Secretary of 

the Assembly, who had been appointed by the Left, and who 

lived in the Rue de Boursault. An immediate meeting was 

necessary. Those Republican Representatives who were still at 

liberty must be warned and brought together without delay. 

Versigny said, "I will go and find Victor Hugo." It was eight 

o'clock in the morning. I was awake and was working in bed. My 

servant entered and said, with an air of alarm,— "A 

Representative of the people is outside who wishes to speak to 

you, sir." "Who is it?" "Monsieur Versigny:" "Show him in." 

Verisign entered and told me the state of affairs. I sprang out 

of bed. He told me of the "rendezvous" at the rooms of the 

exConstituent Laissac. "Go at once and inform the other 

Representatives," said I. He left me. 

 

 

CHAPTER III. WHAT HAD HAPPENED DURING THE NIGHT 

Previous to the fatal days of June 1848, the esplanade of the 

Invalides was divided into eight huge grass plots, surrounded by 

wooden railings and enclosed between two groves of trees, 

separated by a street running perpendicularly to the front of 

the Invalides. This street was traversed by three streets running 

parallel to the Seine. There were large lawns upon which 

children were wont to play. The center of the eight grass plots 

was marred by a pedestal that under the Empire had borne 

the bronze lion of St. Mark, which had been brought from 

Venice; under the Restoration a white marble statue of Louis 

XVIII.; and under Louis Philippe a plaster bust of Lafayette. 

Owing to the Palace of the Constituent Assembly having been 

nearly seized by a crowd of insurgents on the 22d of June, 1848, 

and there being no barracks in the neighborhood, General 

Cavaignac had constructed at three hundred paces from the 

Legislative Palace, on the grass plots of the Invalides, several 

rows of long huts, under which the grass was hidden. These 

huts, where three or four thousand men could be 

accommodated, lodged the troops specially appointed to keep 

watch over the National Assembly. On the 1st December 1851, 

the two regiments hutted on the Esplanade were the 6th and 

the 42d Regiments of the Line, the 6th commanded by Colonel 

Gardeners de Boisse, who was famous before the Second of 

December, the 42d by Colonel Espinasse, who became famous 

since that date. The ordinary night guard of the Palace of the 

Assembly was composed of a battalion of Infantry and of thirty 

artillerymen, with a captain. The Minister of War, in addition, 

sent several troopers for orderly service. Two mortars and six 

pieces of cannon, with their ammunition wagons, were ranged 

in a little square courtyard situated on the right of the Cour 

d'Honneur, which was called the Cour des Canons. The 

Major, the military commandant of the Palace, was placed 

under the immediate control of the Questors. At nightfall the 

gratings and the doors were secured, sentinels were posted, 

instructions were issued to the sentries, and the Palace was 

closed like a fortress. The password was the same as in the 

Place de Paris. The special instructions were drawn up by the 

Questors prohibited the entrance of any armed force other 

than the regiment on duty. On the night of the 1st and 2d of 

December the Legislative Palace was guarded by a battalion of 

the 42d. The setting of the 1st of December, which was 

exceedingly peaceable, and had been devoted to a discussion 

on the municipal law, had finished late and was terminated by 

a Tribunal vote. At the moment when M. Baze, one of the 

Questors, ascended the Tribune to deposit his vote, a 

Representatives, belonging to what was called "Les Bancs 

Elyséens" approached him, and said in a low tone, "To-night 

you will be carried off." Such warnings as these were received 

every day, and, as we have already explained, people had 

ended by paying no heed to them. Nevertheless, immediately 

after the sitting the Questors sent for the Special Commissary 

of Police of the Assembly, President Dupin being present. When 

interrogated, the Commissary declared that the reports of his 

agents indicated "dead calm"—such was his expression—and 

that assuredly there was no danger to be apprehended for that 

night. When the Questors pressed him further, President 

Dupin, exclaiming "Bah!" left the room. On that same day, the 

1st December, about three o'clock in the afternoon, as General 

Leflô's father-in-law crossed the boulevard in front of Tortoni's, 

someone rapidly passed by him and whispered in his ear these 

significant words, "Eleven o'clock— midnight." This incident 

excited but little attention at the Questure, and several even 

laughed at it. It had become customary with them. 

Nevertheless, General Leflô would not go to bed until the hour 

mentioned had passed by, and remained in the Offices of the 

Questure until nearly one o'clock in the morning. The 

shorthand department of the Assembly was done of doors 

by four messengers attached to the Moniteur, who were 

employed to carry the copy of the shorthand writers to the 

printing office, and to bring back the proof sheets to the Palace 

of the Assembly, where M. Hippolyte Prévost corrected them. 

M. Hippolyte Prévost was chief of the stenographic staff, and in 

that capacity had apartments in the Legislative Palace. He was 

at the same time editor of the musical feuilleton of the 

Moniteur. On the 1st of December, he had gone to the Opéra 

Comique for the first representation of a new piece, and did not 

return till after midnight. The fourth messenger from the 

Moniteur was waiting for him with proof of the last slip of the 

sitting; M. Prévost corrected the proof, and the messenger was 

sent off. It was then a little after one o'clock, profound quiet 

reigned around, and, except for the guard, all in the 

Palace slept. Towards this hour of the night, a singular incident 

occurred. The Captain-Adjutant Major of the Guard of the 

Assembly came to the Major and said, "The Colonel has sent for 

me," and he added according to military etiquette, "Will you 

permit me to go?" The Commandant was astonished. "Go," he 

said with some sharpness, "but the Colonel is wrong to disturb 

an officer on duty." One of the soldiers on guard, without 

understanding the meaning of the words, heard the 

Commandant pacing up and down, and muttering several 

times, "What the deuce can he want?" Half an hour afterwards 

the Adjutant-Major returned. "Well," asked the Commandant, 

"what did the Colonel want with you?" "Nothing," answered 

the Adjutant, "he wished to give me the orders for tomorrow's 

duties." The night became further advanced. Towards four 

o'clock the Adjutant-Major came again to the Major. "Major," 

he said, "The Colonel has asked for me." "Again!" exclaimed the 

Commandant. "This is becoming strange; nevertheless, go." The 

Adjutant-Major had amongst other duties that of giving out the 

instructions to the sentries, and consequently had the power of 

rescinding them. As soon as the Adjutant Major had gone out, 

the Major, becoming uneasy, thought that it was his duty to 

communicate with the Military Commandant of the Palace. He 

went upstairs to the apartment of the Commandant—

Lieutenant Colonel Niols. Colonel Niols had gone to bed and the 

attendants had retired to their rooms in the attics. The Major, 

new to the Palace, groped about the corridors, and, knowing 

little about the various rooms, rang at a door which seemed to 

him that of the Military Commandant. Nobody answered, the 

door was not opened, and the Major returned downstairs, 

without having been able to speak to anybody. On his part the 

Adjutant-Major re-entered the Palace, but the Major did not see 

him again. The Adjutant remained near the grated door of the 

Place Bourgogne, shrouded in his cloak and walking up and 

down the courtyard as though expecting someone. At the 

instant that five o'clock sounded from the great clock of the 

dome, the soldiers who slept in the hut camp before the 

Invalides were suddenly awakened. Orders were given in a low 

voice in the huts to take up arms, in silence. Shortly afterward 

two regiments, knapsack on the back were marching upon the Palace 

of the Assembly; they were the 6th and the 42d. At this same 

stroke of five, simultaneously in all the quarters of Paris, infantry 

soldiers filed out noiselessly from every barrack, with their 

colonels at their heads. The aides-de-camp and orderly officers of 

Louis Bonaparte, who had been distributed in all the barracks, 

superintended this taking up of arms. The cavalry were not set in

motion until three-quarters of an hour after the infantry, for fear 

that the ring of the horses' hoofs on the stones should wake 

slumbering Paris too soon. M. de Persigny, who had brought 

from the Elysée to the camp of the Invalides the order to take up 

arms, marched at the head of the 42d, by the side of Colonel 

Espinasse. A story is current in the army, for at the present day, 

wearied as people are with dishonorable incidents, these 

occurrences are yet told with a species of gloomy indifference—

the story is current in that at the moment of setting out with his 

regiment one of the colonels who could be named hesitated, and 

the emissary from the Elysée, taking a sealed packet from 

his pocket, said to him, "Colonel, I admit that we are running a 

great risk. Here in this envelope, which I have been charged to 

hand to you, are a hundred thousand francs in banknotes for 

contingencies." The envelope was accepted, and the regiment 

set out. On the evening of the 2nd of December, the colonel said 

to a lady, "This morning I earned a hundred thousand francs and 

my General's epaulets." The lady showed him the door. Xavier 

Durrieu, who tells us this story, had the curiosity later on to see 

this lady. She confirmed the story. Yes, certainly! She had shut 

the door in the face of this wretch; a soldier, a traitor to his flag 

who dared visit her! She receives such a man? No! She could not 

do that, "and," states Xavier Durrieu, she added, "And yet I have 

no character to lose." Another mystery was in progress at the 

Prefecture of Police. Those belated inhabitants of the Cité who 

may have returned home at a late hour of the night might have 

noticed a large number of street cabs loitering in scattered 

groups at different points round about the Rue de Jerusalem. 

From eleven o'clock in the evening, under the pretext of the arrivals 

of refugees in Paris from Genoa and London, the Brigade of 

Surety and the eight hundred sergeants de ville had been retained 

in the Prefecture. At three o'clock in the morning a summons had 

been sent to the forty-eight Commissaries of Paris and of the 

suburbs, and also to the peace officers. An hour afterwards all of 

them arrived. They were ushered into a separate chamber, and 

isolated from each other as much as possible. At five o'clock a 

bell was sounded in the Prefect's cabinet. The Prefect Maupas 

called the Commissaries of Police one after another into his 

cabinet, revealed the plot to them, and allotted to each his 

portion of the crime. None refused; many thanked him. It was a 

question of arresting at their own homes seventy-eight 

Democrats who were influential in their districts, and dreaded by 

the Elysée as possible chieftains of barricades. It was necessary, 

a still more daring outrage, to arrest at their houses sixteen 

Representatives of the People. For this last task were chosen 

among the Commissaries of Police such as those magistrates who 

seemed the most likely to become ruffians. Amongst these were 

divided the Representatives. Each had his man. Sieur Courtille 

had Charras, Sieur Desgranges had Nadaud, Sieur Hubaut the 

elder had M. Thiers, and Sieur Hubaut the younger General 

Bedeau, General Changarnier was allotted to Lerat, and General 

Cavaignac to Colin. Sieur Dourlens took Representative Valentin, 

Sieur Benoist Representative Miot, 

Sieur Allard Representative Cholat, Sieur Barlet took Roger (Du 

Nord), General Lamoricière fell to Commissary Blanchet, 

Commissary Gronfier had Representative Greppo, and 

Commissary Boudrot Representative Lagrange. The Questors 

were similarly allotted, Monsieur Baze to the Sieur Primorin, 

and General Leflô to Sieur Bertoglio. Warrants with the name of 

the Representatives had been drawn up in the Prefect's private 

Cabinet. Blanks had been only left for the names of the 

Commissaries. These were filled in at the moment of leaving. In 

addition to the armed force which was appointed to assist them, 

it had been decided that each Commissary should be 

accompanied by two escorts, one composed of sergeants de ville, 

the other of police agents in plain clothes. As Prefect 

Maupas had told M. Bonaparte, the Captain of the Republican 

Guard, Baudinet, was associated with Commissary Lerat in the 

arrest of General Changarnier. Towards half-past five the fiacres 

who were in waiting were called up, and all started, each with 

his instructions. During this time, in another corner of 

Paris—the old Rue du Temple—in that ancient Soubise 

Mansion which had been transformed into a Royal Printing 

Office, and is today a National Printing Office, another section 

of the Crime was being organized. Towards one in the morning 

a passer-by who had reached the old Rue du Temple by the Rue 

de Vieilles-Haudriettes, noticed at the junction of these two 

streets several long and high windows brilliantly lighted up, 

These were the windows of the workrooms of the National 

Printing Office. He turned to the right and entered the old Rue 

du Temple and a moment afterward before the 

crescent-shaped entrance of the front of the printing office. 

The principal door was shut, and the sentinels guarded the side 

door. Through this little door, which was ajar, he glanced into 

the courtyard of the printing office and saw it filled with 

soldiers. The soldiers were silent, no sound could be heard, but 

the glistening of their bayonets could be seen. The passer-by 

surprised, drew nearer. One of the sentinels thrust him rudely 

back, crying out, "Be off." Like the sergeants de ville at the 

Prefecture of Police, the workmen had been retained at the 

National Printing Office under the plea of night work. At the same 

time that M. Hippolyte Prévost returned to the Legislative 

Palace, the manager of the National Printing Office re-entered 

his office, also returning from the Opéra Comique, where he 

had been to see the new piece, which was by his brother, M. de 

St. Georges. Immediately on his return the manager, to whom 

had come an order from the Elysée during the day, took up a 

pair of pocket pistols, and went down into the vestibule, which 

communicates using a few steps with the courtyard. 

Shortly afterward the door leading to the street opened, and a 

fiacre entered, a man who carried a large portfolio alighted. 

The manager went up to the man, and said to him, "Is that you, 

Monsieur de Béville?" "Yes," answered the man. The fiacre was 

put up, the horses placed in a stable, and the coachman shut up 

in a parlor, where they gave him drink, and placed a purse in his 

hand. Bottles of wine and Louis d'or form the groundwork of 

this kind of politics. The coachman drank and then went to 

sleep. The door of the parlor was bolted. The large door of the 

courtyard of the printing office was hardly shut then it 

reopened, gave passage to armed men, who entered in silence, 

and then reclosed. The arrivals were a company of the 

Gendarmerie Mobile, the fourth of the first battalion, 

commanded by a captain named La Roche d'Oisy. As may be 

remarked by the result, for all delicate expeditions the men of 

the coup d'état took care to employ the Gendarmerie Mobile 

and the Republican Guard, that it is to say the two corps almost 

entirely composed of former Municipal Guards, bearing at 

heart a revengeful remembrance of the events of February. 

Captain La Roche d'Oisy brought a letter from the Minister of 

War, which placed himself and his soldiers at the disposition of 

the manager of the National Printing Office. The muskets were 

loaded without a word being spoken. Sentinels were placed in 

the workrooms, in the corridors, at the doors, at the windows, 

in fact, everywhere, two being stationed at the door leading 

into the street. The captain asked what instructions he should 

give to the sentries. "Nothing more simple," said the man who 

had come in the fiacre. "Whoever attempts to leave or to open 

a window, shoot him." This man, who, in fact, was De Béville, 

orderly officer to M. Bonaparte, withdrew with the manager 

into the large cabinet on the first story, a solitary room which 

looked out on the garden. There he communicated to the 

manager what he had brought with him, the decree of the 

dissolution of the Assembly, the appeal to the Army, the appeal 

to the People, the decree convoking the electors, and in 

addition, the proclamation of the Prefect Maupas and his letter 

to the Commissaries of Police. The four first documents were 

entirely in the handwriting of the President, and here and there 

some erasures might be noticed. The compositors were in 

waiting. Each man was placed between two gendarmes and 

was forbidden to utter a single word, and then the documents 

which had to be printed were distributed throughout the room, 

being cut up into very small pieces, so that an entire sentence 

could not be read by one workman. The manager announced 

that he would give them an hour to compose the whole. The 

different fragments were finally brought to Colonel Béville, who 

put them together and corrected the proof sheets. The 

machining was conducted with the same precautions, each 

press being between two soldiers. Notwithstanding all possible 

diligence, the work lasted two hours. The gendarmes watched 

over the workmen. Béville watched over St. Georges. When the 

work was finished a suspicious incident occurred, which greatly 

resembled a treason within a treason. To a traitor a greater 

traitor. This species of crime is subject to such accidents. Béville 

and St. Georges, the two trusty confidants in whose hands lay 

the secret of the coup d'état, that is to say, the head of the 

President;—that secret, which ought at no price to be allowed 

to transpire before the appointed hour, under risk of causing 

everything to miscarry, took it into their heads to confide it at 

once to two hundred men, in order "to test the effect," as the 

ex-Colonel Béville said later on, rather naïvely. They read the 

mysterious document that had just been printed to the 

Gendarmes Mobiles, who were drawn up in the courtyard. 

These ex-municipal guards applauded. If they had hooted, it 

might be asked what the two experimentalists in the coup 

d'état would have done. Perhaps M. Bonaparte would have 

woken up from his dream at Vincennes. The coachman was 

then liberated, the fiacre was horsed, and at four o'clock in the 

morning the orderly officer and the manager of the National 

Printing Office, henceforward two criminals, arrived at the 

Prefecture of Police with the parcels of the decrees. Then began 

for them the brand of shame. Prefect Maupas took them by the 

hand. Bands of bill-stickers, bribed for the occasion, started in 

every direction, carrying with them the decrees and 

proclamations. This was precisely the hour at which the Palace 

of the National Assembly was invested. In the Rue de 

l'Université, there is a door of the Palace which is the old 

entrance to the Palais Bourbon, and which opens into the 

avenue that leads to the house of the President of the 

Assembly. This door, termed the Presidency door, was 

according to custom guarded by a sentry. For some time past 

the Adjutant-Major, who had been twice sent for during the 

night by Colonel Espinasse, had remained motionless and silent, 

close by the sentinel. Five minutes after, having left the huts of 

the Invalides, the 42d Regiment of the line, followed at some 

distance by the 6th Regiment, which had marched by the Rue 

de Bourgogne, emerged from the Rue de l'Université. "The 

regiment," says an eye-witness, "marched as one steps in a 

sick room." It arrived with a stealthy step before the Presidency 

door. This ambuscade came to surprise the law. The sentry, 

seeing these soldiers arrive, halted, but at the moment when he 

was going to challenge them with a qui-vive, the 

AdjutantMajor seized his arm, and, in his capacity as the officer 

empowered to countermand all instructions, ordered him to 

give free passage to the 42d, and at the same time commanded 

the amazed porter to open the door. The door turned upon its 

hinges, and the soldiers spread themselves through the avenue. 

Persigny entered and said, "It is done." The National Assembly 

was invaded. At the noise of the footsteps the Commandant 

Mennier ran up. "Commandant," Colonel Espinasse cried out to 

him, "I come to relieve your battalion." The Commandant 

turned pale for a moment, and his eyes remained fixed on the 

ground. Then suddenly he put his hands to his shoulders and 

tore off his epaulets, he drew his sword, broke it across his 

knee, threw the two fragments on the pavement, and, 

trembling with rage, exclaimed with a solemn voice, "Colonel, 

you disgrace the number of your regiment." "All right, all right," 

said Espinasse. The Presidency door was left open, but all the 

other entrances remained closed. All the guards were relieved, 

all the sentinels changed, and the battalion of the night guard 

was sent back to the camp of the Invalides, the soldiers piled 

their arms in the avenue, and in the Cour d'Honneur. The 42d, 

in profound silence, occupied the doors outside and inside, the 

courtyard, the reception rooms, the galleries, the corridors, and the 

passages, while everyone slept in the Palace. Shortly 

afterward arrived two of those little chariots which are called 

"forty sons," and two fiacres, escorted by two detachments of 

the Republican Guard and of the Chasseurs de Vincennes, and 

by several squads of police. The Commissaries Bertoglio and 

Primorin alighted from the two chariots. As these carriages 

drove up a personage, bald, but still young, was seen to appear 

at the grated door of the Place de Bourgogne. This personage 

had all the air of a man about town, who had just come from 

the opera, and, in fact, he had come from thence, after having 

passed through a den. He came from the Elysée. It was De 

Morny. For an instant, he watched the soldiers piling their arms 

and then went on to the Presidency door. There he exchanged 

a few words with M. de Persigny. A quarter of an hour 

afterward, accompanied by 250 Chasseurs de Vincennes, he 

took possession of the Ministry of the Interior, startled M. de 

Thorigny in his bed, and handed him brusquely a letter of 

thanks from Monsieur Bonaparte. Some days previously honest 

M. De Thorigny, whose ingenuous remarks we have already 

cited, said to a group of men near whom M. de Morny was 

passing, "How these men of the Mountain calumniate the 

President! The man who would break his oath, who would 

achieve a coup d'état must necessarily be a worthless wretch." 

Awakened rudely in the middle of the night, and relieved of his 

post as Minister like the sentinels of the Assembly, the worthy 

man, astounded, and rubbing his eyes, muttered, "Eh! Then the 

President is a ——." "Yes," said Morny, with a burst of laughter. 

He who writes these lines knew Morny. Morny and Walewsky 

held in the quasi-reigning family the positions, one of the Royal 

bastard, the other of Imperial bastard. Who was Morny? We 

will say, "A noted wit, an intriguer, but in no way austere, a 

friend of Romieu, and a supporter of Guizot possessing the 

manners of the world, and the habits of the roulette table, 

self-satisfied, clever, combining a certain liberality of ideas with 

a readiness to accept useful crimes, finding means to wear a 

gracious smile with bad teeth, leading a life of pleasure, 

dissipated but reserved, ugly, good-tempered, fierce, 

well-dressed, intrepid, willingly leaving a brother prisoner under 

bolts and bars, and ready to risk his head for a brother 

Emperor, having the same mother as Louis Bonaparte, and like 

Louis Bonaparte, having some father or other, being able to call 

himself Beauharnais, being able to call himself Flahaut, and yet 

calling himself Morny, pursuing literature as far as light 

comedy, and politics, as far as tragedy, a deadly free liver, 

possessing all the frivolity consistent with assassination, 

capable of being sketched by Marivaux and treated by 

Tacitus, without conscience, irreproachably elegant, infamous, 

and amiable, at need a perfect duke. Such was this malefactor." 

It was not yet six o'clock in the morning. Troops began to mass 

themselves on the Place de la Concorde, where 

LeroySaint Arnaud on horseback held a review. The 

Commissaries of Police, Bertoglio and Primorin ranged two 

companies in order under the vault of the great staircase of the 

Questure, but did not ascend that way. They were accompanied 

by agents of the police, who knew the most secret recesses of the 

Palais 

Bourbon, and who conducted them through various passages. 

General Leflô was lodged in the Pavilion inhabited in the time of 

the Duc de Bourbon by Monsieur Feuchères. That night General 

Leflô had staying with him his sister and her husband, who 

were visiting Paris, and who slept in a room, the door of which 

led into one of the corridors of the Palace. Commissary 

Bertoglio knocked at the door, opened it, and together with his 

agents abruptly burst into the room, where a woman was in 

bed. The general's brother-in-out sprang out of bed, and cried 

out to the Questor, who slept in an adjoining room, "Adolphe, 

the doors are being forced, the Palace is full of soldiers. Get 

up!" The General opened his eyes, and he saw the Commissary 

Bertoglio standing beside his bed. He sprang up. "General," said 

the Commissary, "I have come to fulfill a duty." "I understand," 

said General Leflô, "You are a traitor." The Commissary 

stammering out the words, "Plot against the safety of the 

State," displayed a warrant. The General, without pronouncing 

a word, struck this infamous paper with the back of his hand. 

Then dressing, he put on his full uniform of Constantine 

and of Médéah, thinking in his imaginative, soldier-like loyalty 

that there were still generals of Africa for the soldiers whom he 

would find on his way. All the generals now remaining were 

brigands. His wife embraced him; his son, a child of seven years, 

in his nightshirt, and in tears, said to the Commissary of Police, 

"Mercy, Monsieur Bonaparte." The General, while clasping his 

wife in his arms, whispered in her ear, "There is artillery in the 

courtyard, try and fire a cannon." The Commissary and his men 

led him away. He regarded these policemen with contempt 

and did not speak to them, but when he recognized Colonel 

Espinasse, his military, and Breton's hearts swelled with 

indignation. "Colonel Espinasse," said he, "you are a villain, and 

I hope to live long enough to tear the buttons from your 

uniform." Colonel Espinasse hung his head, and stammered, "I 

do not know you." A major waved his sword, and cried, "We 

have had enough of lawyer generals." Some soldiers crossed

their bayonets before the unarmed prisoner, three sergeants de 

ville pushed him into a fiacre, and a sub-lieutenant approached 

the carriage, and looked in the face of the man who, if he were 

a citizen, was his Representative, and if he were a soldier was

his general, flung this abominable word at him, "Canaille!" 

Meanwhile, Commissary Primorin had gone by a more 

roundabout way in order more surely to surprise the other 

Questor, M. Baze. Out of M. Baze's apartment, a door led to the 

lobby communicating with the chamber of the Assembly. Sieur 

Primorin knocked at the door. "Who is there?" asked a servant, 

who was dressing. "The Commissary of Police," replied 

Primorin. The servant, thinking that he was the Commissary of 

The police of the Assembly opened the door. At this moment M. 

Baze, who had heard the noise, and had just awakened, put on 

a dressing-gown, and cried, "Do not open the door." He had 

scarcely spoken these words when a man in plain clothes and 

three sergeants de ville in uniform rushed into his chamber. The 

man, opening his coat, displayed his scarf of office, asking M. 

Baze, "Do you recognize this?" "You are a worthless wretch," 

answered the Questor. The police agents laid their hands on M. 

Baze. "You will not take me away," he said. "You, a Commissary 

of Police, you, who is a magistrate, and know what you are 

doing, you outrage the National Assembly, you violate the law, 

you are a criminal!" A hand-to-hand struggle ensued—four 

against one. Madame Baze and her two little girls give vent to 

screams, the servant being thrust back with blows by the 

sergeants de ville. "You are ruffians," cried out Monsieur Baze. 

They carried him away by main force in their arms, still 

struggling, naked, his dressing-gown being torn to shreds, his 

body being covered with blows, his wrist torn and bleeding. The 

stairs, the landing, and the courtyard were full of soldiers with fixed 

bayonets and grounded arms. The Questor spoke to them. 

"Your Representatives are being arrested, you have not 

received your arms to break the laws!" A sergeant was wearing 

a brand new cross. "Have you been given the cross for this?" 

The sergeant answered, "We only know one master." "I note 

your number," continued M. Baze. "You are a dishonored 

regiment." The soldiers listened with a stolid air and seemed 

still asleep. Commissary Primorin said to them, "Do not answer, 

this has nothing to do with you." They led the Questor across 

the courtyard to the guardhouse at the Porte Noire. This was 

the name which was given to a little door contrived under the 

vault opposite the treasury of the Assembly, and which opened 

upon the Rue de Bourgogne, facing the Rue de Lille. Several 

sentries were placed at the door of the guard-house, and at the 

top of the flight of steps which led thither, M. Baze being left 

there in charge of three sergeants de ville. Several soldiers, 

without their weapons, and in their shirt-sleeves, came in and 

out. The Questor appealed to them in the name of military 

honor. "Do not answer," said the sergeant de ville to the 

soldiers. M. Baze's two little girls had followed him with 

terrified eyes, and when they lost sight of him the youngest 

burst into tears. "Sister," said the elder, who was seven years 

old, "let us say our prayers," and the two children, clasping 

their hands, knelt down. Commissary Primorin, with his swarm 

of agents, burst into the Questor's study and laid hands on 

everything. The first papers which he perceived on the middle 

of the table, and which he seized, were the famous decrees 

which had been prepared in the event of the Assembly having 

voted on the proposal of the Questors. All the drawers were 

opened and searched. This overhauling of M. Baze's papers, 

which the Commissary of Police termed a domiciliary visit, 

lasted more than an hour. M. Baze's clothes had been taken to 

him, and he had dressed. When the "domiciliary visit" was over, 

he was taken out of the guard-house. There was a fiacre in the 

courtyard, into which he entered, together with the three 

sergeants de ville. The vehicle, to reach the Presidency 

door, passed by the Cour d'Honneur and then by the Courde 

Canonis. The day was breaking. M. Baze looked into the courtyard 

to see if the cannon were still there. He saw the ammunition 

wagons ranged in order with their shafts raised, but the places 

of the six cannons and the two mortars were vacant. In the 

avenue of the Presidency, the fiacre stopped for a moment. Two 

lines of soldiers, standing at ease, lined the footpaths of the 

avenue. At the foot of a tree were grouped three men: Colonel 

Espinasse, whom M. Baze knew and recognized, a species of 

Lieutenant-Colonel, who wore a black and orange ribbon round 

his neck, and a Major of Lancers, all three swords in hand, 

consulting together. The windows of the fiacre were closed; M. 

Baze wished to lower them to appeal to these men; the 

sergeants de ville seized his arms. The Commissary Primorin then 

came up and was about to re-enter the little chariot for two 

persons who had brought him. "Monsieur Baze," said he, with 

that villainous kind of courtesy that the agents of the coup 

d'état willingly blended with their crime, "you must be 

uncomfortable with those three men in the fiacre. You are 

cramped; come in with me." "Let me alone," said the prisoner. 

"With these three men, I am cramped; with you, I should be 

contaminated." An escort of infantry was ranged on both sides 

of the fiacre. Colonel Espinasse called to the coachman, "Drive 

slowly by the Quai d'Orsay until you meet a cavalry escort. 

When the cavalry shall have assumed the charge, the infantry 

can come back." They set out. As the fiacre turned into the Quai 

d'Orsay a picket of the 7th Lancers arrived at full speed. It was 

the escort: the troopers surrounded the fiacre, and the whole 

galloped off. No incident occurred during the journey. Here and 

there, at the noise of the horses' hoofs, windows were opened 

and heads put forth; and the prisoner, who had at length 

succeeded in lowering a window heard startled voices saying, 

"What is the matter?" The fiacre stopped. "Where are we?" 

asked M. Baze. "At Mazas," said a sergent de ville. The Questor 

was taken to the office of the prison. Just as he entered he saw 

Baune and Nadaud are being brought out. There was a table in the 

center, at which Commissary Primorin, who had followed the 

fiacre in his chariot, had just seated himself. While the 

Commissary was writing, M. Baze noticed on the table a paper 

which was evidently a jail register, on which were these names, 

written in the following order: Lamoricière, Charras, Cavaignac, 

Changarnier, Leflô, Thiers, Bedeau, Roger (du Nord), 

Chambolle. This was probably the order in which the 

Representatives had arrived at the prison. When Sieur Primorin 

had finished writing, M. Baze said, "Now, you will be good 

enough to receive my protest, and add it to your official 

report." "It is not an official report," objected the Commissary, 

"it is simply an order for committal." "I intend to write my 

protest at once," replied M. Baze. "You will have plenty of time 

in your cell," remarked a man who stood by the table. M. Baze 

turned round. "Who are you?" "I am the governor of the 

prison," said the man. "In that case," replied M. Baze, "I pity 

you, for you are aware of the crime you are committing." The 

man turned pale and stammered a few unintelligible words. 

The Commissary rose from his seat; M. Baze briskly took 

possession of his chair, seated himself at the table, and said to 

Sieur Primorin, "You are a public officer; I request you to add 

my protest to your official report." "Very well," said the 

Commissary, "Let it be so." Baze wrote the protest as follows:— 

"I, the undersigned, Jean-Didier Baze, Representative of the 

People, and Questor of the National Assembly, carried off by 

violence from my residence in the Palace of the National 

Assembly, and conducted to this prison by an armed force 

which I couldn't resist, protest in the name of 

the National Assembly and in my own name against the outrage 

on national representation committed upon my colleagues and 

upon myself. "Given at Mazas on the 2nd December 1851, at 

eight o'clock in the morning. "BAZE." While this was taking 

place at Mazas, the soldiers were laughing and drinking in the 

courtyard of the Assembly. They made their coffee in the 

saucepans. They had lighted enormous fires in the courtyard; 

the flames, fanned by the wind, at times reached the walls of 

the Chamber. A superior official of the Questure, an officer of 

the National Guard, Ramond de la Croisette, ventured to say to 

them, "You will set the Palace on fire;" whereupon a soldier 

struck him a blow with his fist. Four of the pieces taken from 

the Cour de Canons were ranged in battery order against the 

Assembly; two on the Place de Bourgogne were pointed 

toward the grating, and two on the Pont de la Concorde were 

pointed toward the grand staircase. As a side-note to this 

instructive tale let us mention a curious fact. The 42d Regiment 

of the Line was the same which had arrested Louis Bonaparte at 

Boulogne. In 1840 this regiment lent its aid to the law against 

the conspirator. In 1851 it lent its aid to the conspirator against 

the law: such is the beauty of passive obedience. 

CHAPTER IV. OTHER DOINGS OF THE NIGHT During the same 

night in all parts of Paris acts of brigandage took place. 

Unknown men leading armed troops, and themselves armed 

with hatchets, mallets, pincers, crowbars, life preservers, 

swords were hidden under their coats, pistols, of which the butts 

could be distinguished under the folds of their cloaks, arrived in 

silence before a house occupied the street, encircling the 

approaches picked the lock of the door, tied up the porter, 

invaded the stairs, and burst through the doors upon a sleeping 

man, and when that man, awakening with a start, asked of 

these bandits, 

"Who are you?" their leader answered, "A Commissary of 

Police." So it happened to Lamoricière who was seized by 

Blanchet, who threatened him with the gag; to Greppo, who 

was brutally treated and thrown down by Gronfier, assisted by 

six men carrying a dark lantern and a pole-axe; to Cavaignac, 

who was secured by Colin, a smooth-tongued villain, who 

affected to be shocked on hearing him curse and swear; to M. 

Thiers, who was arrested by Hubaut (the elder); professed 

that he had seen him "tremble and weep," thus adding 

falsehood to crime; to Valentin, who was assailed in his bed by 

Dourlens, taken by the feet and shoulders and thrust into a 

padlocked police van; to Miot, destined to the tortures of 

African casemates; to Roger (du Nord), who with courageous 

and witty irony offered sherry to the bandits. Charras and 

Changarnier was taken unawares. They lived in the Rue St. 

Honoré, nearly opposite to each other, Changarnier at No. 3, 

Charras at No. 14. Ever since the 9th of September Changarnier 

had dismissed the fifteen men armed to the teeth by whom he 

had hitherto been guarded during the night, and on the 1st 

December, as we have said, Charras had unloaded his pistols. 

These empty pistols were lying on the table when they came to 

arrest him. The Commissary of Police threw himself upon them. 

"Idiot," said Charras to him, "if they had been loaded, you 

would have been a dead man." These pistols, we may note, had 

been given to Charras upon the taking of Mascara by General 

Renaud, who at the moment of Charras' arrest was on 

horseback in the street helping to carry out the coup d'état. If 

these pistols had remained loaded, and if General Renaud had 

had the task of arresting Charras, it would have been curious if 

Renaud's pistols had killed Renaud. Charras assuredly would 

not have hesitated. We have already mentioned the names of 

these police rascals. It is useless to repeat them. It was Courtille 

who arrested Charras, Lerat who arrested Changarnier, 

Desgranges who arrested Nadaud. The men thus seized in their 

own houses were Representatives of the people; they were 

inviolable so to the crime of the violation of their persons 

was added this high treason, the violation of the Constitution. 

There was no lack of impudence in the perpetration of these 

outrages. The police agents made merry. Some of these droll 

fellows jested. At Mazas the under-jailors jeered at Thiers, 

Nadaud reprimanded them severely. The Sieur Hubaut (the 

younger) awoke General Bedeau. "General, you are a 

prisoner."—"My person is inviolable."— "Unless you are caught 

red-handed, in the very act."—"Well," said Bedeau, "I am caught 

in the act, the heinous act of being asleep." They took him by the 

collar and dragged him to a fiacre. On meeting together at 

Mazas, Nadaud grasped the hand of Greppo, and Lagrange 

grasped the hand of Lamoricière. This made the police gentry 

laugh. A colonel, named Thirion, wearing a commander's cross 

around his neck, helped to put the Generals and the 

Representatives into jail. "Look me in the face," said Charras to 

him. Thirion moved away. Thus, without counting other arrests 

that took place later on, there were imprisoned during the 

night of the 2nd of December, sixteen Representatives and 

seventy-eight citizens. The two agents of the crime furnished a 

report of it to Louis Bonaparte. Morny wrote "Boxed up;" 

Maupas wrote "Quadded." The one in drawing-room slang, the 

other in the slang of the galleys. Subtle gradations of language. 

CHAPTER V. THE DARKNESS OF THE CRIME Versigny had just left 

me. While I dressed hastily there came in a man in whom I had 

every confidence. He was a poor cabinet-maker out of work, 

named Girard, to whom I had given shelter in a room of my 

house, a carver of wood, and not illiterate. He came in from the 

street; he was trembling. "Well," I asked, "what do the people 

say?" Girard answered me,— "People are dazed. The blow has 

been struck in such a manner that it is not realized. 

Workmen read the placards, say nothing, and go to their work. 

Only one in a hundred speaks. It is to say, 'Good!' This is how it 

appears to them. The law of the 31st May is abrogated—' Well 

done!' Universal suffrage is re-established—' Also well done!' 

The reactionary majority has been driven away—'Admirable!' 

Thiers is arrested—'Capital!' Changarnier is seized—'Bravo!' 

Round each placard there are claqueurs. Ratapoil explains his 

coup d'état to Jacques Bonhomme, Jacques Bonhomme takes it 

all in. Briefly, it is my impression that the people give their 

consent." "Let it be so," said I. "But," asked Girard of me, "what 

will you do, Monsieur Victor Hugo?" I took my scarf of office 

from a cupboard and showed it to him. He understood. We 

shook hands. As he went out Carini entered. Colonel Carini is an 

intrepid man. He had commanded the cavalry under 

Mieroslawsky in the Sicilian insurrection. He has, in a few 

moving and enthusiastic pages, told the story of that noble 

revolt. Carini is one of those Italians who love France as we 

Frenchmen love Italy. Every warm-hearted man in this century 

has two fatherlands— the Rome of yesterday and the Paris of 

today God," said Carini to me, "you are still free," and 

he added, "The blow has been struck in a formidable manner. 

The Assembly is invested. I have come from thence. The Place 

de la Révolution, the Quays, the Tuileries, and the boulevards, are 

crowded with troops. The soldiers have their knapsacks. The 

batteries are harnessed. If fighting takes place it will be 

desperate work." I answered him, "There will be fighting." And I 

added, laughing, "You have proved that the colonels write like 

poets; now it is the turn of the poets to fight like colonels." I 

entered my wife's room; she knew nothing and was quietly 

reading her paper in bed. I had taken about five hundred 

francs in gold. I put on my wife's bed a box containing nine 

hundred francs, all the money which remained to me, and I told 

her what had happened. She turned pale, and said to me, 

"What are you going to do?" "My duty." She embraced me, and 

only said two words:— "Do it." My breakfast was ready. I ate a 

cutlet in two mouthfuls. As I finished, my daughter came in. She 

was startled by how I kissed her and asked me, 

"What is the matter?" "Your mother will explain to you." And I 

left them. The Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne was as quiet and 

deserted as usual. Four workmen were, however, chatting near 

my door; they wished me "Good morning." I cried out to them, 

"You know what is going on?" "Yes," said they. "Well. It is 

treason! Louis Bonaparte is strangling the Republic. The people 

are attacked. The people must defend themselves." "They will 

defend themselves." "You promise me that?" "Yes," they 

answered. One of them added, "We swear it." They kept their 

word. Barricades were constructed in my street (Rue de la Tour 

d'Auvergne), in the Rue des Martyrs, in the Cité Rodier, in the 

Rue Coquenard, and at Notre-Dame de Lorette. 

CHAPTER VI. "PLACARDS" On leaving these brave men I could 

read at the corner of the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne and the 

Rue des Martyrs, the three infamous placards that had been 

posted on the walls of Paris during the night. Here they are. 

"PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 

"Appeal to the People. "FRENCHMEN! The present situation can 

last no longer. Every day that passes enhances the dangers of 

the country. The Assembly, which ought to be the firmest 

support of order has become a focus of conspiracies. The 

patriotism of three hundred of its members has been unable to 

check its fatal tendencies. Instead of making laws in the public 

interest it forges arms for civil war; it attacks the power that I 

hold directly from the People, it encourages all bad passions, it 

compromises the tranquillity of France; I have dissolved it, and I 

constitute the whole People a judge between it and me. "The 

Constitution, as you know, was constructed with the object of 

weakening beforehand the power that you were about to 

confide to me. Six million votes formed an emphatic protest 

against it, and yet I have faithfully respected it. Provocations, 

calumnies, and outrages, have found me unmoved. Now, however, 

that the fundamental compact is no longer respected by those 

very men who incessantly invoke it, and that the men who have 

ruined two monarchies wish to tie my hands to 

overthrow the Republic, I must frustrate their 

treacherous schemes, to maintain the Republic, and save the 

Country by appealing to the solemn judgment of the only 

Sovereign whom I recognize in France—the People. "I therefore 

make a loyal appeal to the whole nation, and I say to you: If you 

wish to continue this condition of uneasiness which degrades us 

and compromises our future, choose another in my place, for I 

will no longer retain a power which is impotent to do good, 

which renders me responsible for actions which I cannot 

prevent, and which binds me to the helm when I see the vessel 

driving towards the abyss. "If on the other hand, you still place 

confidence in me, give me the means of accomplishing the 

great mission which I hold from you. "This mission consists in 

closing the era of revolutions, by satisfying the legitimate needs 

of the People, and by protecting them from subversive 

passions. It consists, above all, of creating institutions which 

survive men, and which shall in fact form the foundations on 

which something durable may be established. "Persuaded that 

the instability of power, that the preponderance of a single 

Assembly, is the permanent cause of trouble and discord, I 

submit to your suffrage the following fundamental bases of a 

Constitution which will be developed by the Assemblies later

on:— "1. A responsible Chief was appointed for ten years. "2. 

Ministers are dependent upon the Executive Power alone. "3. A 

Council of State is composed of the most distinguished men, who 

shall prepare laws and shall support them in debate before the 

Legislative Body. "4. A Legislative Body which shall discuss and 

vote the laws, and which shall be elected by universal suffrage, 

without scrutin de liste, which falsifies the elections. "5. A 

The second Assembly was composed of the most illustrious men of the 

country, a power of equipoise the guardian of the fundamental 

compact, and of public liberties. "This system, created by 

the first Consul at the beginning of the century, has already 

given repose and prosperity to France; it would still insure them 

to her. "Such is my firm conviction. If you share it, declare it by 

your votes. If, on the contrary, you prefer a government 

without strength, Monarchical or Republican, borrowed I know 

not from what past, or from what chimerical future, answer in 

the negative. "Thus for the first time since 1804, you will vote 

with a full knowledge of the circumstances, knowing exactly for 

whom and for what. "If I do not obtain the majority of your 

suffrages I shall call together a New Assembly and shall place in 

its hands the commission which I have received from you. "But 

if you believe that the cause of which my name is the symbol,—

that is to say, France regenerated by the Revolution of '89, and 

organized by the Emperor, is to be still your own, proclaim it by 

sanctioning the powers which I ask from you. "Then France and 

Europe will be preserved from anarchy, obstacles will be 

removed, rivalries will have disappeared, for all will respect, in 

the decision of the People, the decree of Providence. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE." PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT 

OF THE REPUBLIC TO THE ARMY. "Soldiers! Be proud of your 

mission, you will save the country, for I count upon you not to 

violate the laws, but to enforce respect for the first law of the 

country, the national Sovereignty, of which I am the Legitimate 

Representative. "For a long time past, like myself, you have 

suffered from obstacles that have opposed themselves both 

to the good that I wished to do and to the demonstrations of 

your sympathies in my favor. These obstacles have been broken 

down. "The Assembly has tried to attack the authority which 

held from the whole Nation. It has ceased to exist. "I make a 

loyal appeal to the People and to the Army, and I say to them: 

Either give me the means of ensuring prosperity or choose 

another in my place. "In 1830, as in 1848, you were treated as 

vanquished men. After having branded your heroic 

disinterestedness, they disdained to consult your sympathies 

and your wishes, and yet you are the flower of the Nation. 

Today, at this solemn moment, I am resolved that the voice of 

the Army shall be heard. "Vote, therefore, freely as citizens; 

but, as soldiers do not forget that passive obedience to the 

orders of the Chief of the State is the rigorous duty of the Army, 

from the general to the private soldier. "It is for me, responsible 

for my actions both to the People and to posterity, to take 

those measures which may seem to me indispensable for the 

public welfare. "As for you, remain immovable within the rules 

of discipline and of honor. Your imposing attitude helps the 

country to manifest its will with calmness and reflection. "Be 

ready to repress every attack upon the free exercise of the 

sovereignty of the People. "Soldiers, I do not speak to you of 

the memories which my name recalls. They are engraved in 

your hearts. We are united by indissoluble ties. Your history is 

mine. There is between us, in the past, a community of glory 

and of misfortune. "There will be in the future community of 

sentiment and of resolutions for the repose and the greatness 

of France. "Given at the Palace of the Elysée, December 2, 

1851. "(Signed) L.N. BONAPARTE." "IN THE NAME OF THE 

FRENCH PEOPLE. "The President of the Republic decrees:—

"ARTICLE I. The National Assembly is dissolved. "ARTICLE II. 

Universal suffrage is re-established. The law of May 31 is 

abrogated. "ARTICLE III. The French People are convoked in 

their electoral districts from the 14th December to the 21st 

December following. "ARTICLE IV. The State of Siege is decreed 

in the district of the first Military Division. "ARTICLE V. The 

Council of State is dissolved. "ARTICLE VI. The Minister of the 

Interior is charged with the execution of this decree. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. "DE MORNY, Minister of the Interior." 

CHAPTER VII. NO. 70, RUE BLANCHE The Cité Gaillard is 

somewhat difficult to find. It is a deserted alley in that new 

quarter which separates the Rue des Martyrs from the Rue 

Blanche. I found it, however. As I reached No. 4, Yvan came out 

of the gateway and said, "I am here to warn you. The police 

have an eye on this house, Michel is waiting for you at No. 

70, Rue Blanche, a few steps from here." I knew No. 70, Rue 

Blanche. Manin, the celebrated President of the Venetian 

Republic lived there. It was not in his rooms, however, that the 

meeting was to take place. The porter of No. 70 told me to go 

up to the first floor. The door was opened, and a handsome, 

gray-haired woman of some forty summers, the Baroness 

Coppens, whom I recognized as having seen in society and at 

my own house, ushered me into a drawing room. Michel de 

Bourges and Alexander Rey were there, the latter an 

exConstituent, an eloquent writer, a brave man. At that time 

Alexander Rey edited the National. We shook hands. Michel 

said to me,— "Hugo, what will you do?" I answered him,—

"Everything." "That also is my opinion," said he. Numerous 

representatives arrived, and amongst others Pierre Lefranc, 

Labrousse, Théodore Bac, Noël Parfait, Arnauld (de l'Ariége), 

Demosthenes Ollivier, an ex-Constituent, and Charamaule. 

There was deep and unutterable indignation, but no useless 

words were spoken. All were imbued with that manly anger 

whence issued great resolutions. They talked. They set forth the 

situation. Each brought forward the news that he had learned. 

Théodore Bac came from Léon Faucher, who lived in the Rue 

Blanche. It was he who had awakened Léon Faucher, and had 

announced the news to him. The first words of Léon Faucher 

were, "It is an infamous deed." From the first moment 

Charamaule displayed courage which, during the four days of 

the struggle, never flagged for a single instant. Charamaule is a 

very tall man, possessed of vigorous features and convincing 

eloquence; he voted with the Left but sat with the Right. In the 

Assembly he was the neighbor of Montalembert and of 

Riancey. He sometimes had warm disputes with them, which 

we watched from afar off, and which amused us. Charamaule 

had come to the meeting at No. 70 dressed in a sort of blue 

cloth military cloak, and armed, as we found out later on. The 

situation was grave; sixteen Representatives were arrested, all the 

generals of the Assembly, and he who was more than a general, 

Charras. All the journals were suppressed, and all the printing offices 

occupied by soldiers. On the side of Bonaparte an army of 

80,000 men which could be doubled in a few hours; on our side 

nothing. The people were deceived, and moreover disarmed. The 

telegraph at their command. All the walls were covered with their 

placards, and at our disposal not a single printing case, not one 

sheet of paper. No means of raising the protest, no means of 

beginning the combat. The coup d'état was clad with mail, the 

Republic was naked; the coup d'état had a speaking trumpet, 

and the Republic wore a gag. What was to be done? The raid 

against the Republic, the Assembly, against Right, 

Law, Progress, against Civilization, was 

commanded by African generals. These heroes had just proved 

that they were cowards. They had taken their precautions well. 

Fear alone can engender so much skill. They had arrested all the 

men of war of the Assembly, and all the men of action of the 

Left, Baune, Charles Lagrange, Miot, Valentin, Nadaud, Cholat. 

Add to this that all the possible chiefs of the barricades were in 

prison. The organizers of the ambuscade had carefully left at 

liberty Jules Favre, Michel de Bourges, and myself, judging us to 

be less men of action than of the Tribune; wishing to leave the 

Left men capable of resistance, but incapable of victory, hoping 

to dishonor us if we did not fight, and to shoot us if we did 

fight. Nevertheless, no one hesitated. The deliberation began. 

Other representatives arrived every minute, Edgar Quinet, 

Doutre, Pelletier, Cassal, Bruckner, Baudin, Chauffour. The 

room was full, some were seated, and most were standing, in 

confusion, but without tumult. I was the first to speak. I said 

that the struggle ought to be begun at once. Blow for blow. 

It was my opinion that the hundred-and-fifty 

Representatives of the Left should put on their scarves of office, 

should march in procession through the streets and the 

boulevards as far as the Madeleine, and cry "Vive la 

République! Vive la Constitution!" should appear before the 

troops, and alone, calm and unarmed, should summon Might to 

obey Right. If the soldiers yielded, they should go to the 

Assembly and make an end of Louis Bonaparte. If the soldiers 

fired upon their legislators, they should disperse throughout 

Paris, crid "To Arms," and resorted to barricades. Resistance 

should be begun constitutionally, and if that failed, should be 

continued revolutionarily. There was no time to be lost. "High 

treason" said I, "should be seized red-handed, is a great 

mistake to suffer such an outrage to be accepted by the hours 

as they elapse. Each minute that passes is an accomplice and 

endorses the crime. Beware of that calamity called an 

'Accomplished fact.' To arms!" Many warmly supported this 

advice, among others Edgar Quinet, Pelletier, and Doutre. 

Michel de Bourges seriously objected. My instinct was to begin 

at once, his advice was to wait and see. According to him, there 

was danger in hastening the catastrophe. The coup d'état was 

organized, and the People were not. They had been taken 

unawares. We must not indulge in illusion. The masses could 

not stir yet. Perfect calm reigned in the faubourgs; Surprise 

existed, yes; Anger, no. The people of Paris, although so 

intelligent, did not understand. Michel added, "We are not in 

1830. Charles X., in turning out the 221, exposed himself to this 

blow, the re-election of the 221. We are not in the same 

situation. The 221 were popular. The present Assembly is not: a 

The chamber which has been insultingly dissolved is always sure to 

conquer if the People support it. Thus the People rose in 1830. 

To-daToday wait. They are dupes until they shall be victims." 

Michel de Bourges concluded, "The People must be given time 

to understand, to grow angry, to rise. As for us, representatives, 

we should be rash to precipitate the situation. If we were to 

march immediately straight upon the troops, we should only be 

shot to no purpose, and the glorious insurrection for Right 

would thus be beforehand deprived of its natural leaders—the 

Representatives of the People. We should decapitate the 

popular army. Temporary delay, on the contrary, would be 

beneficial. Too much zeal must be guarded against, selfrestraint 

is necessary, to give way would be to lose the battle before 

having begun it. Thus, for example, we must not attend the 

meeting announced by the Right for noon, all those who went 

there would be arrested. We must remain free, we must 

remain in readiness, we must remain calm, and must act 

waiting for the advent of the People. Four days of this agitation 

without fighting would weary the army." Michel, however, 

advised a beginning, but simply by placarding Article 68 of the 

Constitution. But where should a printer be found? Michel de 

Bourges spoke with an experience of revolutionary procedure 

which was wanting in me. For many years past he had acquired 

a certain practical knowledge of the masses. His council was 

wise. It must be added that all the information which came to 

us seconded him, and appeared conclusive against me. Paris 

was dejected. The army of the coup d'état invaded her 

peaceably. Even the placards were not torn down. Nearly all the 

Representatives present, even the most daring, agreed with 

Michel's counsel, to wait and see what would happen. "At 

night," said they, "the agitation will begin," and they concluded, 

like Michel de Bourges, that the people must be given time to 

understand. There would be a risk of being alone in too hasty a 

beginning. We should not carry the people with us in the first 

moment. Let us leave the indignation to increase little by little 

in their hearts. If it were begun prematurely our manifestation 

would miscarry. These were the sentiments of all. Myself, 

while listening to them, I felt shaken. Perhaps they were right. 

It would be a mistake to give the signal for the combat in vain. 

What good is the lightning which is not followed by the 

thunderbolt? To raise a voice, to give vent to a cry, to find a 

printer, there was the first question. But was there still a free 

Press? The brave old ex-chief of the 6th Legion, Colonel 

Forestier came in. He took Michel de Bourges and myself aside. 

"Listen," said he to us. "I come to you. I have been dismissed. I 

no longer command my legion but appoint me in the name of 

the Left, Colonel of the 6th. Sign me an order and I will go at 

once and call them to arms. In an hour the regiment will be on 

foot." "Colonel," answered I, "I will do more than sign an order, 

I will accompany you." And I turned towards Charamaule, who 

had a carriage in waiting. "Come with us," said I. Forestier was 

sure of two majors of the 6th. We decided to drive to them at 

once, while Michel and the other Representatives should await 

us at Bonvalet's, in the Boulevard du Temple, near the Café 

Turc. There they could consult together. We started. We 

traversed Paris, where people were already beginning to swarm 

in a threatening manner. The boulevards were thronged with 

an uneasy crowd. People walked to and fro, passers-by 

accosted each other without any previous acquaintance, a 

noteworthy sign of public anxiety; and groups talked in loud 

voices at the corners of the streets. The shops were being shut. 

"Come, this looks better," cried Charamaule. He had been 

wandering about the town since the morning, and he had 

noticed with sadness the apathy of the masses. We found the 

two majors at home upon whom Colonel Forestier counted. 

They were two rich linendrapers, who received us with some 

embarrassment. The shopmen had gathered together at the 

windows and watched us pass by. It was mere curiosity. In the 

meanwhile one of the two majors countermanded a journey 

which he was going to undertake on that day, and promised us 

his co-operation. "But," added he, "do not deceive yourselves, 

one can foresee that we shall be cut to pieces. Few men will 

march out." Colonel Forestier said to us, "Watrin, the present 

colonel of the 6th, does not care for fighting; perhaps he will 

resign me the command amicably. I will go and find him alone, 

to startle him the less, and will join you at Bonvalet's." 

Near the Porte St. Martin, we left our carriage, and Charamaule 

and I proceeded along the boulevard on foot, to 

observe the groups more closely, and more easily to judge the 

aspect of the crowd. The recent leveling of the road had 

converted the boulevard of the Porte St. Martin into a deep 

cutting, commanded by two embankments. On the summits of 

these embankments were the footways, furnished with railings. 

The carriages drove along the cutting, and the foot passengers 

walked along the footways. Just as we reached the boulevard, a 

long column of infantry filed into this ravine with drummers at 

their heads. The thick waves of bayonets filled the square of St. 

Martin, and lost themselves in the depths of the Boulevard 

Bonne Nouvelle. An enormous and compact crowd covered the 

two pavements of the Boulevard St. Martin. Large numbers of 

workmen, in their blouses, were there, leaning upon the 

railings. At the moment when the head of the column entered 

the defile before the Theatre of the Porte St. Martin a 

tremendous shout of "Vive la République!" came forth from 

every mouth as though shouted by one man. The soldiers 

continued to advance in silence, but it might have been said 

that their pace slackened, and many of them regarded the 

crowd with an air of indecision. What did this cry of "Vive la 

République!" mean? Was it a token of applause? Was it a shout 

of defiance? It seemed to me at that moment that the Republic 

raised its brow, and that the coup d'état hung its head. 

Meanwhile, Charamaule said to me, "You are recognized." In 

fact, near the Château d'Eau, the crowd surrounded me. Some 

young men cried out, "Vive Victor Hugo!" One of them asked 

me, "Citizen Victor Hugo, what ought we to do?" I answered, 

"Tear down the seditious placards of the coup d'état, and cry 

'Vive la Constitution!'" "And suppose they fire on us?" said a 

young workman. "You will hasten to arms." "Bravo!" shouted 

the crowd. I added, "Louis Bonaparte is a rebel, he has steeped 

himself to-datodayvery crime. We, Representatives of the 

People, declare him an outlaw, but there is no need for our 

declaration since he is an outlaw by the mere fact of his 

treason. Citizens, you have two hands; take in one your Right, 

and in the other, your gun and fall upon Bonaparte." "Bravo! 

Bravo!" again shouted the people. A tradesman who was 

shutting up his shop said to me, "Don't speak so loud, if they 

heard you talking like that, they would shoot you." "Well, then," 

I replied, "You would parade my body, and my death would be 

a boon if the justice of God could result from it." All shouted 

"Long live Victor Hugo!" "Shout 'Long live the Constitution,'" 

said I. A great cry of "Vive la Constitution! Vive la République;" 

came forth from every breast. Enthusiasm, indignation, and anger 

flashed in the faces of all. I thought then, and I still think, that 

this, perhaps, was the supreme moment. I was tempted to 

carry off all that crowd and to begin the battle. Charamaule 

restrained me. He whispered to me,— "You will bring about a 

useless fusillade. EveryEveryonenarmed. The infantry is only two 

paces from us, and see, here comes the artillery." I looked 

round; in truth, several pieces of cannon emerged at a quick trot 

from the Rue de Bondy, behind the Château d'Eau. The advice 

to abstain, given by Charamaule, made a deep impression on 

me. Coming from such a man, and one so dauntless, it was 

certainly not to be distrusted. Besides, I felt bound by 

the deliberation that had just taken place at the meeting in 

the Rue Blanche. I shrank before the responsibility that I 

should have incurred. To have taken advantage of such a 

moment might have been a victory, it might also have been a 

massacre. Was I right? Was I wrong? The crowd thickened 

around us, and it became difficult to go forward. We were 

anxious, however, to reach the rendezvous 

at Bonvalet's. Suddenly someone had me on the arm. It 

was Léopold Duras, of the National. "Go no further," he 

whispered, "the Restaurant Bonvalet is surrounded. Michel de 

Bourges attempted to harangue the People, but the 

soldiers came up. He barely succeeded in making his escape. 

Numerous Representatives who came to the meeting have 

been arrested. Retrace your steps. We are returning to the old 

rendezvous in the Rue Blanche. I have been looking for you to 

tell you this." A cab was passing; Charamaule hailed the driver. 

We jumped in, followed by the crowd, shouting, "Vive la 

République! Vive Victor Hugo!" It appears that just at that 

moment a squadron of sergeants de ville arrived on the 

Boulevard to arrest me. The coachman drove off at full speed. A 

quarter of an hour afterward we reached the Rue Blanche. 

CHAPTER VIII. "VIOLATION OF THE CHAMBER" At seven o'clock 

in the morning the Pont de la Concorde was still free. The large 

grated gate of the Palace of the Assembly was closed; through 

the bars might be seen the flight of steps, that flight of steps 

whence the Republic had been proclaimed on the 4th May, 

1848, covered with soldiers; and their piled arms might be 

distinguished upon the platform behind those high columns, 

which, during the time of the Constituent Assembly, after the 

15th of May and the 23rd of June masked small mountain mortars, 

loaded and pointed. A porter with a red collar, wearing the 

livery of the Assembly, stood by the little door of the grated 

gate. From time to time Representatives arrived. The porter 

said, "Gentlemen, are you Representatives?" and opened the 

door. Sometimes he asked their names. M. Dupin's quarters 

could be entered without hindrance. In the great gallery, in the 

dining room salon d'honneur of the Presidency, liveried 

attendants silently opened the doors as usual. Before daylight, 

immediately after the arrest of the Questors MM. Baze and 

Leflô, M. de Panat, the only Questor who remained free, having 

been spared or disdained as a Legitimist, awoke M. Dupin and 

begged him to summon immediately the Representatives from 

their own homes. M. Dupin returned this unprecedented 

answer, "I do not see any urgency." Almost at the same time as 

M. Panat, the Representative Jerôme Bonaparte had hastened 

thither. He had summoned M. Dupin to place himself at the 

head of the Assembly. M. Dupin had answered, "I cannot, I am 

guarded." Jerôme Bonaparte burst out laughing. In fact, no one 

had designed lace a sentinel at M. Dupin's door; they knew 

that it was guarded by his meanness. It was only later on, 

towards noon, that they took pity on him. They felt that the 

contempt was too great, and allotted him two sentinels. At halfpast seven, fifteen or twenty Representatives, among whom 

were MM. Eugène Sue, Joret, de Rességuier, and de Talhouet, 

met together in M. Dupin's room. They also had vainly argued 

with M. Dupin. In the recess of a window a clever member of 

the Majority, M. Desmousseaux de Givré, who was a little deaf 

and exceedingly exasperated, almost quarreled with a 

Representative of the Right like himself whom he wrongly 

supposed to be favorable to the coup d'état. M. Dupin, apart 

from the group of Representatives, alone dressed in black, his 

hands behind his back, his head sunk on his breast, walked up 

and down before the fire fireplace a large fire was burning. 

In his own room, and in his very presence, they were talking 

loudly about himself, yet he seemed not to hear. 

Two members of the Left came in, Benoît (du Rhône), and 

Crestin. Crestin entered the room and went straight up to M. 

Dupin, and said to him, "President, you know what is going on? 

How is it that the Assembly has not yet been convened?" M. 

Dupin halted, and answered, with a shrug which was habitual 

with him,— "There is nothing to be done." And he resumed his 

walk. "It is enough," said M. de Rességuier. "It is too much," 

said Eugène Sue. All the Representatives left the room. In the 

meantime, the Pont de la Concorde became covered with 

troops. Among them General Vast-Vimeux, lean, old, and little; 

his lank white hair plastered over his temples, in full uniform, 

with his laced hat on his head. He was laden with two huge 

epaulets and displayed his scarf, not that of a Representative, 

but of a general, which scarf, being too long, trailed on the 

ground. He crossed the bridge on foot, shouting to the soldiers 

inarticulate cries of enthusiasm for the Empire and the coup 

d'état. Such figures as these were seen in 1814. Only instead of 

wearing a large tri-colored, cockade, they wore a large white 

cockade. In the main the same phenomenon; old men crying, 

"Long live the Past!" Almost at the same moment M. de 

Larochejaquelein crossed the Place de la Concorde, surrounded 

by a hundred men in blouses, who followed him in silence, and 

with an air of curiosity. Numerous regiments of cavalry were 

drawn up in the grand avenue of the Champs Elysées. At eight 

o'clock a formidable force invested the Legislative Palace. All 

the approaches were guarded, and all the doors were shut. Some 

Representatives nevertheless succeeded in penetrating into the 

interior of the Palace, not, as has been wrongly stated, by the 

passage of the President's house on the side of the Esplanade 

of the Invalides, but by the little door of the Rue de Bourgogne, 

called the Black Door. This door, by what omission or what 

connivance I do not know, remained open till noon on the 2d 

December. The Rue de Bourgogne was nevertheless full of

troops. Squads of soldiers scattered here and there in the Rue 

de l'Université allowed passers-by, who were few and far 

between, to use it as a thoroughfare. The Representatives who 

entered by the door in Rue de Bourgogne penetrated as far as 

the Salle des Conférences, where they met their colleagues 

coming out from M. Dupin. A numerous group of men, 

representing every shade of opinion in the Assembly, was 

speedily assembled in this hall, amongst whom were MM. 

Eugène Sue, Richardet, Fayolle, Joret, Marc Dufraisse, Benoît 

(du Rhône), Canet, Gambon, d'Adelsward, Créqu, Répellin, 

Teillard-Latérisse, Rantion, General Leydet, Paulin Durrieu, 

Chanay, Brilliez, Collas (de la Gironde), Monet, Gaston, Favreau, 

and Albert de Rességuier. Each new-comer accosted M. de 

Panat. "Where are the vice-Presidents?" "In prison." "And the 

two other Questors?" "Also in prison. And I beg you to believe, 

gentlemen," added M. de Panat, "that I have had nothing to do 

with the insult which has been offered me, in not arresting me." 

Indignation was at its height; every political shade was blended 

in the same sentiment of contempt and anger, and M. de 

Rességuier was no less energetic than Eugène Sue. For the first 

time, the Assembly seemed only to have one heart and one 

voice. Each at length said what he thought of the man of the 

Elysée and it was then seen that for a long time past Louis 

Bonaparte had imperceptibly created a profound unanimity in 

the Assembly—the unanimity of contempt. M. Collas (of the 

Gironde) gesticulated and told his story. He came from the 

Ministry of the Interior. He had seen M. de Morny, he had 

spoken to him; and he, M. Collas, was incensed beyond 

measure at M. Bonaparte's crime. Since then, that Crime has 

made him a Councillor of State. M. de Panat went hither and 

thither among the groups, announcing to the Representatives 

that he had convened the Assembly for one o'clock. But it was 

impossible to wait until that hour. Time pressed. At the Palais 

Bourbon, as in the Rue Blanche, it was the universal feeling that 

each hour that passed by helped to accomplish the coup 

d'état. Everyone felt as a reproach the weight of his silence or 

of his inaction; the circle of iron was closing in, the tide of 

soldiers rose unceasingly, and silently invaded the Palace; at 

each instant, a sentinel the more was found at a door, which a 

moment before had been free. Still, the group of 

Representatives assembled together in the Salle des 

Conférences were as yet respected. It was necessary to act, to 

speak, to deliberate, to struggle, and not to lose a minute. 

Gambon said, "Let us try Dupin once more; he is our official 

man, we need him." They went to look for him. They 

could not find him. He was no longer there, he had 

disappeared, he was away, hidden, crouching, cowering, 

concealed, he had vanished, and he was buried. Where? No one 

knew. The cowardice has unknown holes. Suddenly a man entered 

the hall. A man who was a stranger to the Assembly, in uniform, 

wearing the epaulet of a superior officer and a sword by his 

side. He was a major of the 42d, who came to summon the 

Representatives to quit their own House. All, Royalists and 

Republicans alike, rushed upon him. Such was the expression of 

an indignant eye-witness. General Leydet addressed him in 

language such as leaving an impression on the cheek rather than 

on the ear. "I do my duty, I fulfill my instructions," stammered 

the officer. "You are an idiot, if you think you are doing your 

duty," cried Leydet to him, "and you are a scoundrel if you 

know that you are committing a crime. Your name? What do 

you call yourself? Give me your name." The officer refused to 

give his name, and replied, "So, gentlemen, you will not 

withdraw?" "No." "I shall go and obtain force." "Do so." He left 

the room, and in actual fact went to obtain orders from the 

Ministry of the Interior. The Representatives waited in that kind 

of indescribable agitation which might be called the Strangling 

of Rights by Violence. In a short time, one of them who had gone 

out came back hastily and warned them that two companies of 

the Gendarmerie Mobile were coming with their guns in their 

hands. Marc Dufraisse cried out, "Let the outrage be thorough. 

Let the coup d'état find us on our seats. Let us go to the Salle 

des Séances," he added. "Since things have come to such a 

pass, let us afford the genuine and living spectacle of an 18th 

Brumaire." They all repaired to the Hall of Assembly. The 

passage was free. The Salle Casimir-Périer was not yet occupied 

by the soldiers. They numbered about sixty. Several were 

girded with their scarves of office. They entered the Hall 

meditatively. There, M. de Rességuier, undoubtedly with a good 

purpose, and to form a more compact group, urged 

that they should all install themselves on the Right side. "No," 

said Marc Dufraisse, "everyone to his bench." They scattered 

themselves about the Hall, each in his usual place. M. 

Monet, who sat on one of the lower benches of the Left Centre, 

held in his hand a copy of the Constitution. Several minutes 

elapsed. No one spoke. It was the silence of expectation that 

precedes decisive deeds and final crises, and during which everyone seems respectful to listen to the last instructions of his 

conscience. Suddenly the soldiers of the Gendarmerie Mobile, 

headed by a captain with his sword drawn, appeared on the 

threshold. The Hall of Assembly was violated. The 

Representatives rose from their seats simultaneously, shouting 

"Vive la République!" The Representative Monet alone 

remained standing, and in a loud and indignant voice, which 

resounded through the empty hall like a trumpet, ordered the 

soldiers to halt. The soldiers halted, looking at the 

Representatives with a bewildered air. The soldiers as yet only 

blocked up the lobby of the Left and had not passed beyond 

the Tribune. Then Representative Monet read the Articles 

36, 37, and 68 of the Constitution. Articles 36 and 37 

established the inviolability of the Representatives. Article 68 

deposed the President in the event of treason. That moment 

was a solemn one. The soldiers listened in silence. The Articles 

having been read, Representative d'Adelsward, who sat on the 

first lower bench of the Left, and who was nearest to the 

soldiers, turned towards them and said,— "Soldiers, you see 

that the President of the Republic is a traitor, and would make 

traitors of you. You violate the sacred precinct of rational 

Representation. In the name of the Constitution, in the name of 

the Law, we order you to withdraw." While Adelsward was 

speaking, the major commanding the Gendarmerie Mobile had 

entered. "Gentlemen," said he, "I have orders to request you to 

retire, and, if you do not withdraw of your own accord, to expel 

you." "Orders to expel us!" exclaimed Adelsward; and all the 

Representatives added, "Whose orders; Let us see the orders. 

Who signed the orders?" The major drew forth a paper and 

unfolded it. Scarcely had he unfolded it than he attempted to 

replace it in his pocket, but General Leydet threw himself upon 

him and seized his arm. Several Representatives leaned forward, 

and read the order for the expulsion of the Assembly, signed 

"Fortoul, Minister of the Marine." Marc Dufraisse turned 

towards the Gendarmes Mobiles and cried out to them,—

"Soldiers, your very presence here is an act of treason. Leave 

the Hall!" The soldiers seemed undecided. Suddenly a second 

column emerged from the door on the right, and at a signal 

from the commander, the captain shouted,— "Forward! Turn 

them all out!" Then began an indescribable hand-to-hand fight 

between the gendarmes and the legislators. The soldiers, with 

their guns in their hands, invaded the benches of the Senate. 

Repellin, Chaney, and Rantion were forcibly torn from their seats. 

Two gendarmes rushed upon Marc Dufraisse, two upon 

Gambon. A long struggle took place on the first bench of the 

Right, the same place where MM. Odilon Barrot and Abbatucci 

were in the habit of sitting. Paulin Durrieu resisted violence by 

force, it needed three men to drag him from his bench. Monet 

was thrown down upon the benches of the Commissaries. They 

seized Adelsward by the throat and thrust him outside the Hall. 

Richardet, a feeble man, was thrown down and brutally 

treated. Some were pricked with the points of the bayonets; 

nearly all had their clothes torn. The commander shouted to 

the soldiers, "Rake them out." It was thus that sixty 

Representatives of the People were taken by the collar by the 

coup d'état, and driven from their seats. How 

the deed was executed completed the treason. The physical 

performance was worthy of the moral performance. The three 

last to come out were Fayolle, Teillard-Latérisse, and Paulin 

Durrieu. They were allowed to pass by the great door of the 

Palace, and they found themselves in the Place Bourgogne. The 

Place Bourgogne was occupied by the 42d Regiment of the Line, 

under the orders of Colonel Garderens. Between the Palace and 

the statue of the Republic, which occupied the center of the 

square, a piece of artillery was pointed at the Assembly 

opposite the great door. By the side of the cannon some 

Chasseurs de Vincennes were loading their guns and biting their 

cartridges. Colonel Garderens was on horseback near a group of 

soldiers, which attracted the attention of the 

Representatives Teillard-Latérisse, Fayolle, and Paulin Durrieu. 

In the middle of this group three men, who had been arrested, 

were struggling crying, "Long live the Constitution! Vive la 

République!" Fayolle, Paulin Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse 

approached, and recognized in the three prisoners three 

members of the majority, Representatives Toupet-des-Vignes 

Radoubt, Lafosse, and Arbey. Representative Arbey was warmly 

protesting. As he raised his voice, Colonel Garderens cut him 

short with these words, which are worthy of preservation,—

"Hold your tongue! One word more, and I will have you 

thrashed with the butt-end of a musket." The three 

Representatives of the Left indignantly called on the Colonel to 

release their colleagues. "Colonel," said Fayolle, "You break the 

law threefold." "I will break it sixfold," answered the Colonel, 

and he arrested Fayolle, Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse. The 

soldiers were ordered to conduct them to the guard house of 

the Palace then being built for the Minister of Foreign Affairs. 

On the way the six prisoners, marching between a double file of 

bayonets, met three of their colleagues Representative Eugène 

Sue, Chanay, and Benoist (du Rhône). Eugène Sue placed 

himself before the officer who commanded the detachment, 

and said to him,— "We summon you to set our colleagues at 

liberty." "I cannot do so," answered the officer. "In that case 

complete your crimes," said Eugène Sue, "We summon you to 

arrest us also." The officer arrested them. They were taken to 

the guard-house of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, and, later 

on, to the barracks of the Quai d'Orsay. It was not till night that 

two companies of the line came to transfer them to this 

ultimate redirecting place placing them between his soldiers 

the commanding officer bowed down to the ground, politely 

remarking, "Gentlemen, my men's guns are loaded." The 

clearance of the hall was carried out, as we have said, in a 

disorderly fashion, the soldiers pushing the Representatives 

before them through all the outlets. Some, and amongst the 

number those of whom we have just spoken, went by the 

Rue de Bourgogne, others were dragged through the Salle des 

Pas Perdus towards the grated door opposite the Pont de la 

Concorde. The Salle des Pas Perdus has an ante-chamber, a sort 

of crossway room, upon which opened the staircase of the High 

Tribune, and several doors, amongst others the great glass door 

of the gallery which leads to the apartments of the President of 

the Assembly. As soon as they had reached this crossway room 

which adjoins the little rotunda, where the side door of exit to 

the Palace is situated, the soldiers set the Representatives free. 

There, in a few moments, a group was formed, in which the 

Representatives Canet and Favreau began to speak. One 

universal cry was raised, "Let us search for Dupin, let us drag 

him here if it is necessary." They opened the glass door and 

rushed into the gallery. This time M. Dupin was at home. M. 

Dupin, having learned that the gendarmes had cleared out the 

Hall had come out of his hiding place Assembly being 

thrown prostrate, Dupin stood erect. The law being made 

prisoner, this man felt himself set free. The group of 

Representatives, led by MM. Canet and Favreau found him in 

his study. There a dialogue ensued. The Representatives 

summoned the President to put himself at their head, and to 

re-enter the Hall, he, the man of the Assembly, with them, the 

men of the Nation. M. Dupin refused point-blank, maintained 

his ground, was very firm, and clung bravely to his nonentity. 

"What do you want me to do?" said he, mingling with his 

alarmed protests many law maxims and Latin quotations, an 

instinct of chattering jays, who pour forth all their vocabulary 

when they are frightened. "What do you want me to do? Who 

am I? What can I do? I am nothing. No one is any longer 

anything. Ubi nihil, nihil. Might be there. Where there is Might 

the people lose their Rights. Novus nascitur ordo. Shape your 

course accordingly. I am obliged to submit. Dura lex, sed lex. A 

law of necessity we admit, but not a law of right. But what is to 

be done? I ask to be let alone. I can do nothing. I do what I can. 

I do not want in good goodwill to have a corporal and four men, I 

would have them killed." "This man only recognizes force," said 

the Representatives. "Very well, let us employ force." They 

used violence towards him, they girded him with a scarf like a 

cord round his neck, and, as they had said, they dragged him 

towards the Hall, begging for his "liberty," moaning, kicking—I 

would say wrestling, if the word were not too exalted. Some 

minutes after the clearance, this Salle des Pas Perdus, which 

had just witnessed Representatives pass by in the clutch of 

gendarmes saw M. Dupin in the clutch of the Representatives. 

They did not get far. Soldiers barred the great green 

folding doors. Colonel Espinasse hurried thither, the 

commander of the gendarmerie came up. The butt-ends of a 

pair of pistols were seen peeping out of the commander's 

pocket. The colonel was pale, the commander was pale, M. 

Dupin was livid. Both sides were afraid. M. Dupin was afraid of 

the colonel; the colonel assuredly was not afraid of M. Dupin, 

but behind this laughable and miserable figure he saw a terrible 

phantom rise up—his crime, and he trembled. In Homer, there 

is a scene where Nemesis appears behind Thersites. M. Dupin 

remained for some moments stupefied, bewildered, and 

speechless. The 

Representative Gambon exclaimed to him,— "Now then, speak, 

M. Dupin, the Left does not interrupt you." Then, with the 

words of the Representatives at his back, and the bayonets of 

the soldiers at his breast, the unhappy man spoke. What his 

mouth uttered at this moment, what the President of the 

Sovereign Assembly of France stammered to the gendarmes at 

this intensely critical moment, no one could gather. Those who 

heard the last gasps of this moribund cowardice hastened to 

purify their ears. It appears, however, that he stuttered forth 

something like this:— "You are Might, you have bayonets; I 

invoke Right, and I leave you. I have the honor to wish you a good 

day." He went away. They let him go. At the moment of leaving, 

he turned around and heard a few more words. We will not 

gather them up. History has no rag-pickers basket. 

CHAPTER IX. AN END WORSE THAN DEATH We should have 

been glad to have put aside, never to have spoken of him again, 

this man who had borne for three years this most honorable 

title, President of the National Assembly of France, and who 

had only known how to be lacquey to the majority. He 

contrived in his last hour to sink even lower than could have 

been believed possible even for him. His career in the Assembly 

had been that of a valet, his end was that of a scullion. The 

unprecedented attitude that M. Dupin assumed before the 

gendarmes when uttering with a grimace his mockery of a 

protest, even engendered suspicion. Gambion exclaimed, "He 

resists like an accomplice. He knew all." We believe these 

suspicions to be unjust. M. Dupin knew nothing. Who indeed 

amongst the organizers of the coup d'état would have taken 

the trouble to make sure of his joining them? Corrupt M. 

Dupin? Was it possible? and, further, to what purpose? To pay 

him? Why? It would be money wasted when fear alone was 

enough. Some connivances are secured before they are sought 

for. Cowardice is the old fawner upon felony. The blood of the 

law is quickly wiped up. Behind the assassin who holds the 

poniard comes the trembling wretch who holds the sponge. 

Dupin took refuge in his study. They followed him. "My God!" 

he cried, "Can't understand that I want to be left in peace." 

In truth, they had tortured him ever since the morning, to extract from him an impossible scrap of courage. "You treat 

me worse than the gendarmes," said he. The Representatives 

installed themselves in his study, seated themselves at his 

table, and, while he groaned and scolded in an arm-chair, they 

drew up a formal report of what had just taken place, as they 

wished to leave an official record of the outrage in the archives. 

When the official report was ended Representative Canet read 

it to the President and offered him a pen. "What do you want 

me to do with this?" he asked. "You are the President," 

answered Canet. "This is our last sitting. You must sign 

the official report." This man refused. 

 

CHAPTER X. THE BLACK DOOR M. Dupin is a matchless disgrace. 

Later on, he had his reward. It appears that he became some 

sort of an Attorney-General at the Court of Appeal. M. Dupin 

renders to Louis Bonaparte the service of being in his place the 

meanest of men. To continue this dismal history. The 

Representatives of the Right, in their first bewilderment caused 

by the coup d'état, hastened in large numbers to M. Daru, who 

was Vice-President of the Assembly, and at the same time one 

of the Presidents of the Pyramid Club. This Association had 

always supported the policy of the Elysée, but without believing 

that a coup d'état was premeditated. M. Daru lived at No. 75, 

Rue de Lille. Towards ten o'clock in the morning, about a 

hundred of these Representatives had assembled at M. Daru's 

home. They resolved to attempt to penetrate into the Hall 

where the Assembly held its sittings. The Rue de Lille opens out 

into the Rue de Bourgogne, almost opposite the little door by 

which the Palace is entered, and which is called the Black Door. 

They turned their steps towards this door, with M. Daru at their 

head. They marched arm in arm and three abreast. Some of 

them had put on their scarves of office. They took them off 

later on. The Black Door, half-open as usual, was only guarded 

by two sentries. Some of the most indignant, and amongst 

them M. de Kerdrel, rushed towards this door and tried to pass. 

The door, however, was violently shut, and there ensued 

between the Representatives and the sergeants de ville who 

hastened up, a species of struggle, in which a Representative 

had his wrist sprained? At the same time a battalion that was 

drawn up on the Place de Bourgogne moved on, and came at 

the double towards the group of Representatives. M. Daru, 

stately and firm, signed to the commander to stop; the 

battalion halted, and M. Daru, in the name of the Constitution, 

and in his capacity as Vice-President of the Assembly, 

summoned the soldiers to lay down their arms, and give free 

passage to the Representatives of the Sovereign People. The 

commaCommanderhe battalion replied with an order to clear the 

the street immediately, declaring that there was no longer an 

Assembly; that as for himself, he did not know what the 

Representatives of the People were, and that if those persons 

before him did not retire of their own accord, he would drive 

them back by force. "We will only yield to violence," said M. 

Daru. "You commit high treason," added M. de Kerdrel. The 

officer gave the order to charge. The soldiers advanced in close 

order. There was a moment of confusion; almost a collision. The 

Representatives, forcibly driven back, ebbed into the Rue de Lille. 

Some of them fell down. Several members of the Right were 

rolled in the mud by the soldiers. One of them, M. Etienne, 

received a blow on the shoulder from the butt-end of a musket. 

We may here add that a week afterwards M. Etienne was a 

member of that concern which they styled the Consultative 

Committee. He found the coup d'état to his taste, the blow with 

the butt end of a musket included. They went back to M. Daru's 

house, and on the way, the scattered group reunited and was 

even strengthened by some newcomers. "Gentlemen," said M. 

Daru, "The president has failed us, the Hall is closed against us. I 

am the Vice-President; my house is the Palace of the Assembly." 

He opened a large room, and there the Representatives of the 

Right installed themselves. At first, the discussions were 

somewhat noisy. M. Daru, however, observed that the moments 

were precious, and silence was restored. The first measure to be 

taken was evidently the deposition of the President of the 

Republic by Article 68 of the Constitution. Some 

Representatives of the party which was called Burgraves sat 

round a table and prepared the deed of deposition. As they were 

about to read it aloud a Representative who came in from out of 

doors appeared at the door of the room, and announced to the 

Assembly that the Rue de Lille was becoming filled with troops 

and that the house was being surrounded. There was not a 

moment to lose. M. Benoist-d'Azy said, "Gentlemen, let us go to 

the Mairie of the tenth arrondissement; there we shall be able 

to deliberate under the protection of the tenth legion, of which 

our colleague, General Lauriston, is the colonel." M. Daru's house 

had a back entrance by a little door which was at the bottom of 

the garden. Most of the Representatives went out that way. M. 

Daru was about to follow them. Only himself, M. Odilon Barrot, 

and two or three others remained in the room when the door 

opened. A captain entered, and said to M. Daru,— "Sir, you are 

my prisoner." "Where am I to follow you?" asked M. Daru. "I have 

orders to watch over you in your own house." The house, in 

truth, was militarily occupied, and it was thus that M. Daru was 

prevented from taking part in the sitting at the Mairie of the 

tenth arrondissement. The officer allowed M. Odilon Barrot to 

go out. 

 

 

CHAPTER XI. THE HIGH COURT OF JUSTICE While all this was 

taking place on the left bank of the river, towards noon a man 

was noticed walking up and down the great Salles des Pas 

Perdus of the Palace of Justice. This man carefully buttoned up 

in an overcoat, appeared to be attended at a distance by 

several possible supporters—for certain police enterprises 

employ assistants whose dubious appearance renders the 

passers-by uneasy, so much so that they wonder whether they 

are magistrates or thieves. The man in the buttoned-up 

overcoat loitered from door to door, from lobby to lobby, 

exchanging signs of intelligence with the myrmidons who 

followed him; then came back to the great, stopping on the 

way the barristers, solicitors, ushers, clerks, and attendants, 

and repeating to all in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the 

passers-by, the same question. To this question, some answered 

"Yes," others replied "No." And the man set to work again, 

prowling about the Palace of Justice with the appearance of a 

bloodhound seeking the trail. He was a Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police. What was he looking for? The High Court of 

Justice. What was the High Court of Justice doing? It was hiding. 

Why? To sit in Judgment? Yes and no. The Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police had that morning received from the Prefect 

Maupas the order to search everywhere for the place where 

the High Court of Justice might be sitting if perchance it 

thought it its duty to meet. Confusing the High Court with the 

Council of State, the Commissary of Police had first gone to the 

Quai d'Orsay. Having found nothing, not even the Council of 

State, he had come away empty-handed, at all events had 

turned his steps towards the Palace of Justice, thinking that as 

he had to search for justice he would perhaps find it there. Not 

finding it, he went away. The High Court, however, had 

nevertheless met together. Where, and how? We shall see. At 

the period whose annals we are now chronicling, before the 

present reconstruction of the old buildings of Paris, when the 

Palace of Justice was reached by the Cour de Harlay, a staircase 

the reverse of majestic led thither by turning out into a long 

corridor called the Gallerie Mercière. Towards the middle of 

this corridor, there were two doors; one on the right, which led 

to the Court of Appeal, and the other on the left, which led to the 

Court of Cassation. The fold folding door she left opened upon 

an old gallery called St. Louis, recently restored, and which 

serves at the present time for a Salle des Pas Perdus to the 

barristers of the Court of Cassation. A wooden statue of St. 

Louis stood opposite the entrance door. An entrance contrived 

in a niche to the right of this statue led into a winding lobby 

ending in a sort of blind passage, which apparently was closed 

by two double doors. On the door to the right might be read 

"First President's Room;" on the door to the left, "Council 

Chamber." Between these two doors, for the convenience of 

the barristers going from the Hall to the Civil Chamber, which 

formerly the Great Chamber of Parliament had been 

formed a narrow and dark passage, in which, as one of them 

remarked, "Everywhere could be committed with impunity." 

Leaving on one side the First President's Room and opening the 

door which bore the inscription "Council Chamber," a large 

room was crossed, furnished with a huge horsehorseshoee, 

surrounded by green chairs. At the end of this room, which in 

1793 had served as a deliberating hall for the juries of the 

Revolutionary Tribunal, there was a door placed in the 

wainscoting, which led into a little lobby where there were two doors, 

on the right, the door of the room appertaining to the President 

of the Criminal Chamber, on the left the door of the 

Refreshment Room. "Sentenced to death!—Now let us go and 

dine!" These two ideas, Death and Dinner, have jostled against 

each other for centuries. A third door closed the extremity of 

this lobby. This door was, so to speak, the last of the Palace of 

Justice, the farthest off, the least known, the most hidden; it 

opened into what was called the Library of the Court of 

Cassation, a large square room lighted by two windows 

overlooking the great inner yard of the Concièrgerie, furnished 

with a few leather chairs, a large table covered with green 

cloth, and with law books lining the walls from the floor to the 

ceiling. This room, as may be seen, is the most secluded, and the 

best hidden of any in the Palace. It was here,—in this room, 

that there arrived successively on the 2d December, towards 

eleven o'clock in the morning, numerous men dressed in black, 

without robes, without badges of office, affrighted, bewildered, 

shaking their heads, and whispering together. These trembling 

men were the High Court of Justice. The High Court of Justice, 

according to the terms of the Constitution, was composed of 

seven magistrates; a President, four Judges, and two Assistants, 

chosen by the Court of Cassation from among its own members 

and renewed every year. In December 1851, these seven 

judges were named Hardouin, Pataille, Moreau, Delapalme, 

Cauchy, Grandet, and Quesnault, the two last-named being 

Assistants. These men, almost unknown, had nevertheless 

some antecedents. M. Cauchy, a few years previously President 

of the Chamber of the Royal Court of Paris, an amiable man and 

easily frightened, was the brother of the mathematician, 

member of the Institute, to whom we owe the computation of 

waves of sound, and of the ex-Registrar Archivist of the 

Chamber of Peers. M. Delapalme had been Advocate-General, 

and had taken a prominent part in the Press trials under the 

Restoration; M. Bataille had been Deputy of the Centre under 

the Monarchy of July; M. Moreau (de la Seine) was noteworthy, 

inasmuch he had been nicknamed "de la Seine" to distinguish 

him from M. Moreau (de la Meurthe), who on his side was 

noteworthy, since he had been nicknamed "de la 

Meurthe" to distinguish him from M. Moreau (de la Seine). The 

first Assistant, M. Grandet, had been President of the Chamber 

at Paris. I have read this panegyric of him: "He is known to 

possess no individuality or opinion of his own whatsoever." The 

second Assistant, M. Quesnault, a Liberal, a Deputy, a Public 

Functionary, Advocate General, a Conservative, learned, 

obedient, had attained by making a stepping-stone of each of 

these attributes, to the Criminal Chamber of the Court of 

Cassation, where he was known as one of the most severe 

members. 1848 had used his notion of Rights,   

and resigned after the 24th of February; he did not resign after the 

2d December. M. Hardouin, who presided over the High Court, 

was an ex-Prex-presidentssizes, a religious man, a rigid 

Jansenist, noted amongst his colleagues as a "scrupulous 

magistrate," living in Port Royal, a diligent reader of Nicolle, 

belonging to the race of the old Parliamentarians of the Marais, 

who used to go to the Palais de Justice mounted on a mule; the 

mule had now gone out of fashion, and whoever visited 

President Hardouin would have found no more obstinacy in his 

stable than in his conscience. On the morning of the 2d 

December, at nine o'clock, two men mounted the stairs of M. 

Hardouin's house, No. 10, Rue de Condé, and met together at 

his door. One was M. Pataille; the other, one of the most 

prominent members of the bar of the Court of Cassation, was 

the ex-Constituent Martin (of Strasbourg). M. Bataille had just 

placed himself at M. Hardouin's disposal. Martin's first thought, 

while reading the placards of the coup d'état, had been for the 

High Court. M. Hardouin ushered M. Pataille into a room 

adjoining his study and received Martin (of Strasbourg) as a 

man to whom he did not wish to speak before witnesses. Being 

formally requested by Martin (of Strasbourg) to convene the 

High Court, he begged that he would leave him alone, declared 

that the High Court would "do its duty," but that first he must 

"confer with his colleagues," concluding with this expression, 

"It shall be done to-datodayo-morrow." "To-daTodayo-morrow!" 

exclaimed Martin (of Strasbourg); "Mr. President, the safety of 

the Republic, the safety of the country, perhaps, depends on 

what the High Court will or will not do. Your responsibility is 

great; bear that in mind. The High Court of Justice does not do 

its duty today; it does it at once, at the moment, 

without losing a minute, without an instant's hesitation." 

Martin (of Strasbourg) was right, Justice always belongs to 

Today. Martin (of Strasbourg) added, "If you want a man for 

active work, I am at your service." M. Hardouin declined the 

offer; declared that he would not lose a moment, and begged 

Martin (of Strasbourg) to leave him to "confer" with his 

colleague, M. Pataille. In fact, he called together the High Court 

for eleven o'clock, and it was settled that the meeting should 

take place in the Hall of the Library. The Judges were punctual. 

At a quarter past eleven, they were all assembled. M. Pataille 

arrived the last. 

They sat at the end of the great green table. THE HISTORY OF A CRIME THE TESTIMONY OF

AN EYE-WITNESS BY VICTOR HUGO THE FIRST

DAY—

 

THE AMBUSH. CHAPTER I. "SECURITY" On December 1, 1851, 

Charras shrugged his shoulder and unloaded his pistols. In 

truth, the belief in the possibility of a coup d'état had become 

humiliating. The supposition of such illegal violence on the part 

of M. Louis Bonaparte vanished upon serious consideration. 

The great question of the day was manifestly the Devincq 

election; it was clear that the Government was only thinking of 

that matter. As to a conspiracy against the Republic and against 

the People, how could anyone premeditate such a plot? Where 

was the man capable of entertaining such a dream? There must be an actor for a tragedy, and here assuredly the actor 

was wanting. To outrage Right, to suppress the Assembly, to 

abolish the Constitution, to strangle the Republic, to overthrow 

the Nation, to sully the Flag, to dishonor the Army, to suborn 

the Clergy and the Magistracy, to succeed, to triumph, to 

govern, to administer, to exile, to banish, to transport, to ruin, 

to assassinate, to reign, with such complicities that the law at 

last resembles a foul bed of corruption. What! All these 

enormities were to be committed! And by whom? By a 

Colossus? No, by a dwarf. People laughed at the notion. They 

no longer said "What a crime!" but "What a farce!" For after all 

they reflected; heinous crimes require stature. Certain crimes 

are too lofty for certain hands. A man who would achieve an 

18th Brumaire must have Arcola in his past and Austerlitz in his 

future. The art of becoming a great scoundrel is not accorded to 

the firstcomer. People said to themselves, Who is this son of 

Hortense? He has Strasbourg behind him instead of Arcola, and 

Boulogne in place of Austerlitz. He is a Frenchman, born a 

Dutchman, and naturalized a Swiss; he is a Bonaparte crossed 

with a Verhuell; he is only celebrated for the ludicrousness of 

his imperial attitude, and he who would pluck a feather from 

his eagle would risk finding a goose's quill in his hand. This 

Bonaparte does not pass currency in the array, he is a 

counterfeit image less of gold than of lead, and assuredly 

French soldiers will not give us the change for this false 

Napoleon in rebellion, in atrocities, in massacres, in outrages, in 

treason. If he should attempt roguery it would miscarry. Not a 

regiment would stir. Besides, why should he make such an 

attempt? Doubtless, he has his suspicious side, but why suppose 

he is an absolute villain? Such extreme outrages are beyond 

him; he is incapable of them physically, so why judge him as capable 

of them morally? Has he not pledged honor? Has he not said, 

"No one in Europe doubts my word?" Let us fear nothing. To 

this could be answered, Crimes are committed either on a 

grand or on a mean scale. In the first category there is Caesar; 

in the second there is Mandarin. Caesar passes the Rubicon, 

Mandrin bestrides the gutter. But wise men interposed, "Are 

Are we not prejudiced by offensive conjectures? This man has been 

exiled and unfortunate. Exile enlightens, misfortune corrects." 

For his part, Louis Bonaparte protested energetically. Facts 

abounded in his favor. Why should he not act in good faith? He 

had made remarkable promises. Towards the end of October, 

1848, then a candidate for the Presidency, he was calling at No. 

37, Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne, on a certain personage, to 

whom he remarked, "I wish to have an explanation with you. 

They slander me. Do I give you the impression of a madman? 

They think that I wish to revivify Napoleon. There are two men 

whom a great ambition can take for its models, Napoleon and 

Washington. The one is a man of Genius, the other is a man of 

Virtue. It is ridiculous to say, 'I will be a man of Genius;' it is 

honest to say, 'I will be a man of Virtue.' Which of these 

depends upon ourselves? Which can we accomplish by our will? 

To be a Genius? No. To be Probity? Yes. The attainment of Genius 

is not possible; the attainment of Probity is a possibility. And 

what could I revive of Napoleon? One sole thing—a crime. Truly 

a worthy ambition! Why should I be considered a man? The 

Republic being established, I am not a great man, I shall not 

copy Napoleon, but I am an honest man. I shall imitate 

Washington. My name, the name of Bonaparte, will be 

inscribed on two pages of the history of France: on the first, 

there will be crime and glory, on the second probity and honor. 

And the second will perhaps be worth the first. Why? Because if 

Napoleon is the greater, and Washington is the better man. 

Between the guilty hero and the good citizen, I choose the good 

citizen. Such is my ambition." From 1848 to 1851 three years 

elapsed. People had long suspected Louis Bonaparte, but 

long-continued suspicion blunts the intellect and wears itself out 

by fruitless alarms. Louis Bonaparte had dissimulating 

ministers such as Magne and Rouher, but he also had 

straightforward ministers such as Léon Faucher and Odilon 

Barrot, and these last affirmed that he was upright and 

sincere. He had been seen to beat his breast before the doors 

of Ham; his foster sister, Madame Hortense Cornu, wrote to 

Mieroslawsky, "I am a good Republican, and I can answer for 

him." His friend of Ham, Peauger, a loyal man, declared, "Louis 

Bonaparte is incapable of treason." Had not Louis Bonaparte 

written the work entitled "Pauperism"? In the intimate circles 

of the Elysée Count Potocki was a Republican and Count 

d'Orsay was a Liberal; Louis Bonaparte said to Potocki, "I am a 

man of the Democracy," and to D'Orsay, "I am a man of 

Liberty." The Marquis du Hallays opposed the coup d'état, while 

the Marquise du Hallays was in its favor. Louis Bonaparte said 

to the Marquis, "Fear nothing" (he indeed whispered to 

the Marquise, "Make your mind easy"). The Assembly, after 

having shown here and there some symptoms of uneasiness, 

had grown calm. There was General Neumayer, "who was to be 

depended upon," and who from his position at Lyons would at 

need march upon Paris. Changarnier exclaimed, 

"Representatives of the people, deliberate in peace." Even 

Louis Bonaparte himself had pronounced these famous words, 

"I should see an enemy of my country in anyone who would 

change by force that which has been established by law,", 

moreover, the Army was a "force," and the Army possessed 

leaders, leaders who were beloved and victorious. Lamoricière, 

Changarnier, Cavaignac, Leflô, Bedeau, Charras; how could anyone imagine the Army of Africa arresting the Generals of Africa? 

On Friday, November 28, 1851, Louis Bonaparte said to Michel 

de Bourges, "If I wanted to do wrong, I could not. Yesterday, 

Thursday, I invited to my table five Colonels of the garrison of 

Paris and the whim seized me to question each one by himself. 

All five declared to me that the Army would never lend itself to 

a coup de force, nor attack the inviolability of the Assembly. 

You can tell your friends this."—"He smiled," said 

Michel de Bourges reassured, "and I also smiled." After this, 

Michel de Bourges declared in the Tribune, "This is the man for 

me." In that same month of November a satirical journal, 

charged with calumniating the President of the Republic, was 

sentenced to fine and imprisonment for a caricature depicting a 

shooting gallery and Louis Bonaparte using the Constitution as 

a target. Morigny, Minister of the Interior, declared in the 

Council before the President "that a Guardian of Public Power 

ought never to violate the law as otherwise he would be—" "a 

dishonest man," interposed the President. All these words and 

all these facts were notorious. The material and moral 

impossibility of the coup d'état was manifest to all. To outrage 

the National Assembly! To arrest the Representatives! What 

madness! As we have seen, Charras, who had long remained on 

his guard, unloaded his pistols. The feeling of security was 

complete and unanimous. Nevertheless, there were some of us 

in the Assembly who still retained a few doubts, and who 

occasionally shook our heads, but we were looked upon as 

fools. 

CHAPTER II. PARIS SLEEPS—THE BELL RINGS On the 2d 

December 1851, Representative Versigny, of the Haute-Saône, 

who resided at Paris, at No. 4, Rue Léonie, was asleep. He slept 

soundly; he had been working till late at night. Verisign was a 

young man of thirty-two, soft-featured and fair-complexioned, of 

a courageous spirit, and a mind tending towards social and 

economic studies. He had passed the first hours of the night in 

the perusal of a book by Bastiat, in which he was making marginal 

notes, and, leaving the book open on the table, he had fallen 

asleep. Suddenly he awoke with a start at the sound of a sharp 

ring at the bell. He sprang up in surprise. It was dawn. It was 

about seven o'clock in the morning. Never dreaming what could 

be the motive for so early a visit, and thinking that someone had 

mistaken the door, he again lay down, and was about to resume 

his slumber, when a second ring at the bell, still louder than the 

first, completely aroused him. He got up in his night-shirt and 

opened the door. Michel de Bourges and 

Théodore Bac entered. Michel de Bourges was the neighbor of 

Versigny; he lived at No. 16, Rue de Milan. Théodore Bac and 

Michel were pale and appeared greatly agitated. "Versigny," 

said Michel, "Dress yourself at once—Baune has just been 

arrested." "Bah!" exclaimed Versigny. "Is the Mauguin business 

beginning again?" "It is more than that," replied Michel. 

"Baune's wife and daughter came to me half an hour ago. They 

awoke me. Baune was arrested in bed at six o'clock this 

morning." "What does that mean?" asked Versigny. The bell 

rang again. "This will probably tell us," answered Michel de 

Bourges. Verisign opened the door. It was the Representative 

Pierre Lefranc. He brought, in truth, the solution of the enigma. 

"Do you know what is happening?" said he. "Yes," answered 

Michel. "Baune is in prison." "It is the Republic who is a 

prisoner," said Pierre Lefranc. "Have you read the placards?" 

"No." Pierre Lefranc explained to them that the walls at that 

moment were covered with placards which the curious crowd 

was thronging to read, that he had glanced over one of them 

at the corner of his street, and that the blow had fallen. "The 

blow!" exclaimed Michel. "Say rather the crime." Pierre Lefranc 

added that there were three placards—one decree and two 

proclamations—all three on white paper, and pasted close 

together. The decree was printed in large letters. The 

exConstituent Laissac, who lodged, like Michel de Bourges, in 

the neighborhood (No. 4, Cité Gaillard), then came in. He 

brought the same news and announced further arrests which 

had been made during the night. There was not a minute to 

lose. They went to impart the news to Yvan, the Secretary of 

the Assembly, who had been appointed by the Left, and who 

lived in the Rue de Boursault. An immediate meeting was 

necessary. Those Republican Representatives who were still at 

liberty must be warned and brought together without delay. 

Versigny said, "I will go and find Victor Hugo." It was eight 

o'clock in the morning. I was awake and was working in bed. My 

servant entered and said, with an air of alarm,— "A 

Representative of the people is outside who wishes to speak to 

you, sir." "Who is it?" "Monsieur Versigny:" "Show him in." 

Verisign entered and told me the state of affairs. I sprang out 

of bed. He told me of the "rendezvous" at the rooms of the 

exConstituent Laissac. "Go at once and inform the other 

Representatives," said I. He left me. 

 

 

CHAPTER III. WHAT HAD HAPPENED DURING THE NIGHT 

Previous to the fatal days of June 1848, the esplanade of the 

Invalides was divided into eight huge grass plots, surrounded by 

wooden railings and enclosed between two groves of trees, 

separated by a street running perpendicularly to the front of 

the Invalides. This street was traversed by three streets running 

parallel to the Seine. There were large lawns upon which 

children were wont to play. The center of the eight grass plots 

was marred by a pedestal that under the Empire had borne 

the bronze lion of St. Mark, which had been brought from 

Venice; under the Restoration a white marble statue of Louis 

XVIII.; and under Louis Philippe a plaster bust of Lafayette. 

Owing to the Palace of the Constituent Assembly having been 

nearly seized by a crowd of insurgents on the 22d of June, 1848, 

and there being no barracks in the neighborhood, General 

Cavaignac had constructed at three hundred paces from the 

Legislative Palace, on the grass plots of the Invalides, several 

rows of long huts, under which the grass was hidden. These 

huts, where three or four thousand men could be 

accommodated, lodged the troops specially appointed to keep 

watch over the National Assembly. On the 1st December 1851, 

the two regiments hutted on the Esplanade were the 6th and 

the 42d Regiments of the Line, the 6th commanded by Colonel 

Gardeners de Boisse, who was famous before the Second of 

December, the 42d by Colonel Espinasse, who became famous 

since that date. The ordinary night guard of the Palace of the 

Assembly was composed of a battalion of Infantry and of thirty 

artillerymen, with a captain. The Minister of War, in addition, 

sent several troopers for orderly service. Two mortars and six 

pieces of cannon, with their ammunition wagons, were ranged 

in a little square courtyard situated on the right of the Cour 

d'Honneur, which was called the Cour des Canons. The 

Major, the military commandant of the Palace, was placed 

under the immediate control of the Questors. At nightfall the 

gratings and the doors were secured, sentinels were posted, 

instructions were issued to the sentries, and the Palace was 

closed like a fortress. The password was the same as in the 

Place de Paris. The special instructions were drawn up by the 

Questors prohibited the entrance of any armed force other 

than the regiment on duty. On the night of the 1st and 2d of 

December the Legislative Palace was guarded by a battalion of 

the 42d. The setting of the 1st of December, which was 

exceedingly peaceable, and had been devoted to a discussion 

on the municipal law, had finished late and was terminated by 

a Tribunal vote. At the moment when M. Baze, one of the 

Questors, ascended the Tribune to deposit his vote, a 

Representatives, belonging to what was called "Les Bancs 

Elyséens" approached him, and said in a low tone, "To-night 

you will be carried off." Such warnings as these were received 

every day, and, as we have already explained, people had 

ended by paying no heed to them. Nevertheless, immediately 

after the sitting the Questors sent for the Special Commissary 

of Police of the Assembly, President Dupin being present. When 

interrogated, the Commissary declared that the reports of his 

agents indicated "dead calm"—such was his expression—and 

that assuredly there was no danger to be apprehended for that 

night. When the Questors pressed him further, President 

Dupin, exclaiming "Bah!" left the room. On that same day, the 

1st December, about three o'clock in the afternoon, as General 

Leflô's father-in-law crossed the boulevard in front of Tortoni's, 

someone rapidly passed by him and whispered in his ear these 

significant words, "Eleven o'clock— midnight." This incident 

excited but little attention at the Questure, and several even 

laughed at it. It had become customary with them. 

Nevertheless, General Leflô would not go to bed until the hour 

mentioned had passed by, and remained in the Offices of the 

Questure until nearly one o'clock in the morning. The 

shorthand department of the Assembly was done of doors 

by four messengers attached to the Moniteur, who were 

employed to carry the copy of the shorthand writers to the 

printing office, and to bring back the proof sheets to the Palace 

of the Assembly, where M. Hippolyte Prévost corrected them. 

M. Hippolyte Prévost was chief of the stenographic staff, and in 

that capacity had apartments in the Legislative Palace. He was 

at the same time editor of the musical feuilleton of the 

Moniteur. On the 1st of December, he had gone to the Opéra 

Comique for the first representation of a new piece, and did not 

return till after midnight. The fourth messenger from the 

Moniteur was waiting for him with proof of the last slip of the 

sitting; M. Prévost corrected the proof, and the messenger was 

sent off. It was then a little after one o'clock, profound quiet 

reigned around, and, except for the guard, all in the 

Palace slept. Towards this hour of the night, a singular incident 

occurred. The Captain-Adjutant Major of the Guard of the 

Assembly came to the Major and said, "The Colonel has sent for 

me," and he added according to military etiquette, "Will you 

permit me to go?" The Commandant was astonished. "Go," he 

said with some sharpness, "but the Colonel is wrong to disturb 

an officer on duty." One of the soldiers on guard, without 

understanding the meaning of the words, heard the 

Commandant pacing up and down, and muttering several 

times, "What the deuce can he want?" Half an hour afterwards 

the Adjutant-Major returned. "Well," asked the Commandant, 

"what did the Colonel want with you?" "Nothing," answered 

the Adjutant, "he wished to give me the orders for tomorrow's 

duties." The night became further advanced. Towards four 

o'clock the Adjutant-Major came again to the Major. "Major," 

he said, "The Colonel has asked for me." "Again!" exclaimed the 

Commandant. "This is becoming strange; nevertheless, go." The 

Adjutant-Major had amongst other duties that of giving out the 

instructions to the sentries, and consequently had the power of 

rescinding them. As soon as the Adjutant Major had gone out, 

the Major, becoming uneasy, thought that it was his duty to 

communicate with the Military Commandant of the Palace. He 

went upstairs to the apartment of the Commandant—

Lieutenant Colonel Niols. Colonel Niols had gone to bed and the 

attendants had retired to their rooms in the attics. The Major, 

new to the Palace, groped about the corridors, and, knowing 

little about the various rooms, rang at a door which seemed to 

him that of the Military Commandant. Nobody answered, the 

door was not opened, and the Major returned downstairs, 

without having been able to speak to anybody. On his part the 

Adjutant-Major re-entered the Palace, but the Major did not see 

him again. The Adjutant remained near the grated door of the 

Place Bourgogne, shrouded in his cloak and walking up and 

down the courtyard as though expecting someone. At the 

instant that five o'clock sounded from the great clock of the 

dome, the soldiers who slept in the hut camp before the 

Invalides were suddenly awakened. Orders were given in a low 

voice in the huts to take up arms, in silence. Shortly afterward 

two regiments, knapsack on the back were marching upon the Palace 

of the Assembly; they were the 6th and the 42d. At this same 

stroke of five, simultaneously in all the quarters of Paris, infantry 

soldiers filed out noiselessly from every barrack, with their 

colonels at their heads. The aides-de-camp and orderly officers of 

Louis Bonaparte, who had been distributed in all the barracks, 

superintended this taking up of arms. The cavalry were not set in

motion until three-quarters of an hour after the infantry, for fear 

that the ring of the horses' hoofs on the stones should wake 

slumbering Paris too soon. M. de Persigny, who had brought 

from the Elysée to the camp of the Invalides the order to take up 

arms, marched at the head of the 42d, by the side of Colonel 

Espinasse. A story is current in the army, for at the present day, 

wearied as people are with dishonorable incidents, these 

occurrences are yet told with a species of gloomy indifference—

the story is current in that at the moment of setting out with his 

regiment one of the colonels who could be named hesitated, and 

the emissary from the Elysée, taking a sealed packet from 

his pocket, said to him, "Colonel, I admit that we are running a 

great risk. Here in this envelope, which I have been charged to 

hand to you, are a hundred thousand francs in banknotes for 

contingencies." The envelope was accepted, and the regiment 

set out. On the evening of the 2nd of December, the colonel said 

to a lady, "This morning I earned a hundred thousand francs and 

my General's epaulets." The lady showed him the door. Xavier 

Durrieu, who tells us this story, had the curiosity later on to see 

this lady. She confirmed the story. Yes, certainly! She had shut 

the door in the face of this wretch; a soldier, a traitor to his flag 

who dared visit her! She receives such a man? No! She could not 

do that, "and," states Xavier Durrieu, she added, "And yet I have 

no character to lose." Another mystery was in progress at the 

Prefecture of Police. Those belated inhabitants of the Cité who 

may have returned home at a late hour of the night might have 

noticed a large number of street cabs loitering in scattered 

groups at different points round about the Rue de Jerusalem. 

From eleven o'clock in the evening, under the pretext of the arrivals 

of refugees in Paris from Genoa and London, the Brigade of 

Surety and the eight hundred sergeants de ville had been retained 

in the Prefecture. At three o'clock in the morning a summons had 

been sent to the forty-eight Commissaries of Paris and of the 

suburbs, and also to the peace officers. An hour afterwards all of 

them arrived. They were ushered into a separate chamber, and 

isolated from each other as much as possible. At five o'clock a 

bell was sounded in the Prefect's cabinet. The Prefect Maupas 

called the Commissaries of Police one after another into his 

cabinet, revealed the plot to them, and allotted to each his 

portion of the crime. None refused; many thanked him. It was a 

question of arresting at their own homes seventy-eight 

Democrats who were influential in their districts, and dreaded by 

the Elysée as possible chieftains of barricades. It was necessary, 

a still more daring outrage, to arrest at their houses sixteen 

Representatives of the People. For this last task were chosen 

among the Commissaries of Police such as those magistrates who 

seemed the most likely to become ruffians. Amongst these were 

divided the Representatives. Each had his man. Sieur Courtille 

had Charras, Sieur Desgranges had Nadaud, Sieur Hubaut the 

elder had M. Thiers, and Sieur Hubaut the younger General 

Bedeau, General Changarnier was allotted to Lerat, and General 

Cavaignac to Colin. Sieur Dourlens took Representative Valentin, 

Sieur Benoist Representative Miot, 

Sieur Allard Representative Cholat, Sieur Barlet took Roger (Du 

Nord), General Lamoricière fell to Commissary Blanchet, 

Commissary Gronfier had Representative Greppo, and 

Commissary Boudrot Representative Lagrange. The Questors 

were similarly allotted, Monsieur Baze to the Sieur Primorin, 

and General Leflô to Sieur Bertoglio. Warrants with the name of 

the Representatives had been drawn up in the Prefect's private 

Cabinet. Blanks had been only left for the names of the 

Commissaries. These were filled in at the moment of leaving. In 

addition to the armed force which was appointed to assist them, 

it had been decided that each Commissary should be 

accompanied by two escorts, one composed of sergeants de ville, 

the other of police agents in plain clothes. As Prefect 

Maupas had told M. Bonaparte, the Captain of the Republican 

Guard, Baudinet, was associated with Commissary Lerat in the 

arrest of General Changarnier. Towards half-past five the fiacres 

who were in waiting were called up, and all started, each with 

his instructions. During this time, in another corner of 

Paris—the old Rue du Temple—in that ancient Soubise 

Mansion which had been transformed into a Royal Printing 

Office, and is today a National Printing Office, another section 

of the Crime was being organized. Towards one in the morning 

a passer-by who had reached the old Rue du Temple by the Rue 

de Vieilles-Haudriettes, noticed at the junction of these two 

streets several long and high windows brilliantly lighted up, 

These were the windows of the workrooms of the National 

Printing Office. He turned to the right and entered the old Rue 

du Temple and a moment afterward before the 

crescent-shaped entrance of the front of the printing office. 

The principal door was shut, and the sentinels guarded the side 

door. Through this little door, which was ajar, he glanced into 

the courtyard of the printing office and saw it filled with 

soldiers. The soldiers were silent, no sound could be heard, but 

the glistening of their bayonets could be seen. The passer-by 

surprised, drew nearer. One of the sentinels thrust him rudely 

back, crying out, "Be off." Like the sergeants de ville at the 

Prefecture of Police, the workmen had been retained at the 

National Printing Office under the plea of night work. At the same 

time that M. Hippolyte Prévost returned to the Legislative 

Palace, the manager of the National Printing Office re-entered 

his office, also returning from the Opéra Comique, where he 

had been to see the new piece, which was by his brother, M. de 

St. Georges. Immediately on his return the manager, to whom 

had come an order from the Elysée during the day, took up a 

pair of pocket pistols, and went down into the vestibule, which 

communicates using a few steps with the courtyard. 

Shortly afterward the door leading to the street opened, and a 

fiacre entered, a man who carried a large portfolio alighted. 

The manager went up to the man, and said to him, "Is that you, 

Monsieur de Béville?" "Yes," answered the man. The fiacre was 

put up, the horses placed in a stable, and the coachman shut up 

in a parlor, where they gave him drink, and placed a purse in his 

hand. Bottles of wine and Louis d'or form the groundwork of 

this kind of politics. The coachman drank and then went to 

sleep. The door of the parlor was bolted. The large door of the 

courtyard of the printing office was hardly shut then it 

reopened, gave passage to armed men, who entered in silence, 

and then reclosed. The arrivals were a company of the 

Gendarmerie Mobile, the fourth of the first battalion, 

commanded by a captain named La Roche d'Oisy. As may be 

remarked by the result, for all delicate expeditions the men of 

the coup d'état took care to employ the Gendarmerie Mobile 

and the Republican Guard, that it is to say the two corps almost 

entirely composed of former Municipal Guards, bearing at 

heart a revengeful remembrance of the events of February. 

Captain La Roche d'Oisy brought a letter from the Minister of 

War, which placed himself and his soldiers at the disposition of 

the manager of the National Printing Office. The muskets were 

loaded without a word being spoken. Sentinels were placed in 

the workrooms, in the corridors, at the doors, at the windows, 

in fact, everywhere, two being stationed at the door leading 

into the street. The captain asked what instructions he should 

give to the sentries. "Nothing more simple," said the man who 

had come in the fiacre. "Whoever attempts to leave or to open 

a window, shoot him." This man, who, in fact, was De Béville, 

orderly officer to M. Bonaparte, withdrew with the manager 

into the large cabinet on the first story, a solitary room which 

looked out on the garden. There he communicated to the 

manager what he had brought with him, the decree of the 

dissolution of the Assembly, the appeal to the Army, the appeal 

to the People, the decree convoking the electors, and in 

addition, the proclamation of the Prefect Maupas and his letter 

to the Commissaries of Police. The four first documents were 

entirely in the handwriting of the President, and here and there 

some erasures might be noticed. The compositors were in 

waiting. Each man was placed between two gendarmes and 

was forbidden to utter a single word, and then the documents 

which had to be printed were distributed throughout the room, 

being cut up into very small pieces, so that an entire sentence 

could not be read by one workman. The manager announced 

that he would give them an hour to compose the whole. The 

different fragments were finally brought to Colonel Béville, who 

put them together and corrected the proof sheets. The 

machining was conducted with the same precautions, each 

press being between two soldiers. Notwithstanding all possible 

diligence, the work lasted two hours. The gendarmes watched 

over the workmen. Béville watched over St. Georges. When the 

work was finished a suspicious incident occurred, which greatly 

resembled a treason within a treason. To a traitor a greater 

traitor. This species of crime is subject to such accidents. Béville 

and St. Georges, the two trusty confidants in whose hands lay 

the secret of the coup d'état, that is to say, the head of the 

President;—that secret, which ought at no price to be allowed 

to transpire before the appointed hour, under risk of causing 

everything to miscarry, took it into their heads to confide it at 

once to two hundred men, in order "to test the effect," as the 

ex-Colonel Béville said later on, rather naïvely. They read the 

mysterious document that had just been printed to the 

Gendarmes Mobiles, who were drawn up in the courtyard. 

These ex-municipal guards applauded. If they had hooted, it 

might be asked what the two experimentalists in the coup 

d'état would have done. Perhaps M. Bonaparte would have 

woken up from his dream at Vincennes. The coachman was 

then liberated, the fiacre was horsed, and at four o'clock in the 

morning the orderly officer and the manager of the National 

Printing Office, henceforward two criminals, arrived at the 

Prefecture of Police with the parcels of the decrees. Then began 

for them the brand of shame. Prefect Maupas took them by the 

hand. Bands of bill-stickers, bribed for the occasion, started in 

every direction, carrying with them the decrees and 

proclamations. This was precisely the hour at which the Palace 

of the National Assembly was invested. In the Rue de 

l'Université, there is a door of the Palace which is the old 

entrance to the Palais Bourbon, and which opens into the 

avenue that leads to the house of the President of the 

Assembly. This door, termed the Presidency door, was 

according to custom guarded by a sentry. For some time past 

the Adjutant-Major, who had been twice sent for during the 

night by Colonel Espinasse, had remained motionless and silent, 

close by the sentinel. Five minutes after, having left the huts of 

the Invalides, the 42d Regiment of the line, followed at some 

distance by the 6th Regiment, which had marched by the Rue 

de Bourgogne, emerged from the Rue de l'Université. "The 

regiment," says an eye-witness, "marched as one steps in a 

sick room." It arrived with a stealthy step before the Presidency 

door. This ambuscade came to surprise the law. The sentry, 

seeing these soldiers arrive, halted, but at the moment when he 

was going to challenge them with a qui-vive, the 

AdjutantMajor seized his arm, and, in his capacity as the officer 

empowered to countermand all instructions, ordered him to 

give free passage to the 42d, and at the same time commanded 

the amazed porter to open the door. The door turned upon its 

hinges, and the soldiers spread themselves through the avenue. 

Persigny entered and said, "It is done." The National Assembly 

was invaded. At the noise of the footsteps the Commandant 

Mennier ran up. "Commandant," Colonel Espinasse cried out to 

him, "I come to relieve your battalion." The Commandant 

turned pale for a moment, and his eyes remained fixed on the 

ground. Then suddenly he put his hands to his shoulders and 

tore off his epaulets, he drew his sword, broke it across his 

knee, threw the two fragments on the pavement, and, 

trembling with rage, exclaimed with a solemn voice, "Colonel, 

you disgrace the number of your regiment." "All right, all right," 

said Espinasse. The Presidency door was left open, but all the 

other entrances remained closed. All the guards were relieved, 

all the sentinels changed, and the battalion of the night guard 

was sent back to the camp of the Invalides, the soldiers piled 

their arms in the avenue, and in the Cour d'Honneur. The 42d, 

in profound silence, occupied the doors outside and inside, the 

courtyard, the reception rooms, the galleries, the corridors, and the 

passages, while everyone slept in the Palace. Shortly 

afterward arrived two of those little chariots which are called 

"forty sons," and two fiacres, escorted by two detachments of 

the Republican Guard and of the Chasseurs de Vincennes, and 

by several squads of police. The Commissaries Bertoglio and 

Primorin alighted from the two chariots. As these carriages 

drove up a personage, bald, but still young, was seen to appear 

at the grated door of the Place de Bourgogne. This personage 

had all the air of a man about town, who had just come from 

the opera, and, in fact, he had come from thence, after having 

passed through a den. He came from the Elysée. It was De 

Morny. For an instant, he watched the soldiers piling their arms 

and then went on to the Presidency door. There he exchanged 

a few words with M. de Persigny. A quarter of an hour 

afterward, accompanied by 250 Chasseurs de Vincennes, he 

took possession of the Ministry of the Interior, startled M. de 

Thorigny in his bed, and handed him brusquely a letter of 

thanks from Monsieur Bonaparte. Some days previously honest 

M. De Thorigny, whose ingenuous remarks we have already 

cited, said to a group of men near whom M. de Morny was 

passing, "How these men of the Mountain calumniate the 

President! The man who would break his oath, who would 

achieve a coup d'état must necessarily be a worthless wretch." 

Awakened rudely in the middle of the night, and relieved of his 

post as Minister like the sentinels of the Assembly, the worthy 

man, astounded, and rubbing his eyes, muttered, "Eh! Then the 

President is a ——." "Yes," said Morny, with a burst of laughter. 

He who writes these lines knew Morny. Morny and Walewsky 

held in the quasi-reigning family the positions, one of the Royal 

bastard, the other of Imperial bastard. Who was Morny? We 

will say, "A noted wit, an intriguer, but in no way austere, a 

friend of Romieu, and a supporter of Guizot possessing the 

manners of the world, and the habits of the roulette table, 

self-satisfied, clever, combining a certain liberality of ideas with 

a readiness to accept useful crimes, finding means to wear a 

gracious smile with bad teeth, leading a life of pleasure, 

dissipated but reserved, ugly, good-tempered, fierce, 

well-dressed, intrepid, willingly leaving a brother prisoner under 

bolts and bars, and ready to risk his head for a brother 

Emperor, having the same mother as Louis Bonaparte, and like 

Louis Bonaparte, having some father or other, being able to call 

himself Beauharnais, being able to call himself Flahaut, and yet 

calling himself Morny, pursuing literature as far as light 

comedy, and politics, as far as tragedy, a deadly free liver, 

possessing all the frivolity consistent with assassination, 

capable of being sketched by Marivaux and treated by 

Tacitus, without conscience, irreproachably elegant, infamous, 

and amiable, at need a perfect duke. Such was this malefactor." 

It was not yet six o'clock in the morning. Troops began to mass 

themselves on the Place de la Concorde, where 

LeroySaint Arnaud on horseback held a review. The 

Commissaries of Police, Bertoglio and Primorin ranged two 

companies in order under the vault of the great staircase of the 

Questure, but did not ascend that way. They were accompanied 

by agents of the police, who knew the most secret recesses of the 

Palais 

Bourbon, and who conducted them through various passages. 

General Leflô was lodged in the Pavilion inhabited in the time of 

the Duc de Bourbon by Monsieur Feuchères. That night General 

Leflô had staying with him his sister and her husband, who 

were visiting Paris, and who slept in a room, the door of which 

led into one of the corridors of the Palace. Commissary 

Bertoglio knocked at the door, opened it, and together with his 

agents abruptly burst into the room, where a woman was in 

bed. The general's brother-in-out sprang out of bed, and cried 

out to the Questor, who slept in an adjoining room, "Adolphe, 

the doors are being forced, the Palace is full of soldiers. Get 

up!" The General opened his eyes, and he saw the Commissary 

Bertoglio standing beside his bed. He sprang up. "General," said 

the Commissary, "I have come to fulfill a duty." "I understand," 

said General Leflô, "You are a traitor." The Commissary 

stammering out the words, "Plot against the safety of the 

State," displayed a warrant. The General, without pronouncing 

a word, struck this infamous paper with the back of his hand. 

Then dressing himself, he put on his full uniform of Constantine 

and of Médéah, thinking in his imaginative, soldier-like loyalty 

that there were still generals of Africa for the soldiers whom he 

would find on his way. All the generals now remaining were 

brigands. His wife embraced him; his son, a child of seven years, 

in his nightshirt, and in tears, said to the Commissary of Police, 

"Mercy, Monsieur Bonaparte." The General, while clasping his 

wife in his arms, whispered in her ear, "There is artillery in the 

courtyard, try and fire a cannon." The Commissary and his men 

led him away. He regarded these policemen with contempt 

and did not speak to them, but when he recognized Colonel 

Espinasse, his military, and Breton's hearts swelled with 

indignation. "Colonel Espinasse," said he, "you are a villain, and 

I hope to live long enough to tear the buttons from your 

uniform." Colonel Espinasse hung his head, and stammered, "I 

do not know you." A major waved his sword, and cried, "We 

have had enough of lawyer generals." Some soldiers crossed

their bayonets before the unarmed prisoner, three sergeants de 

ville pushed him into a fiacre, and a sub-lieutenant approached 

the carriage, and looked in the face of the man who, if he were 

a citizen, was his Representative, and if he were a soldier was

his general, flung this abominable word at him, "Canaille!" 

Meanwhile, Commissary Primorin had gone by a more 

roundabout way in order more surely to surprise the other 

Questor, M. Baze. Out of M. Baze's apartment, a door led to the 

lobby communicating with the chamber of the Assembly. Sieur 

Primorin knocked at the door. "Who is there?" asked a servant, 

who was dressing. "The Commissary of Police," replied 

Primorin. The servant, thinking that he was the Commissary of 

The police of the Assembly opened the door. At this moment M. 

Baze, who had heard the noise, and had just awakened, put on 

a dressing-gown, and cried, "Do not open the door." He had 

scarcely spoken these words when a man in plain clothes and 

three sergeants de ville in uniform rushed into his chamber. The 

man, opening his coat, displayed his scarf of office, asking M. 

Baze, "Do you recognize this?" "You are a worthless wretch," 

answered the Questor. The police agents laid their hands on M. 

Baze. "You will not take me away," he said. "You, a Commissary 

of Police, you, who is a magistrate, and know what you are 

doing, you outrage the National Assembly, you violate the law, 

you are a criminal!" A hand-to-hand struggle ensued—four 

against one. Madame Baze and her two little girls give vent to 

screams, the servant being thrust back with blows by the 

sergeants de ville. "You are ruffians," cried out Monsieur Baze. 

They carried him away by main force in their arms, still 

struggling, naked, his dressing-gown being torn to shreds, his 

body being covered with blows, his wrist torn and bleeding. The 

stairs, the landing, and the courtyard were full of soldiers with fixed 

bayonets and grounded arms. The Questor spoke to them. 

"Your Representatives are being arrested, you have not 

received your arms to break the laws!" A sergeant was wearing 

a brand new cross. "Have you been given the cross for this?" 

The sergeant answered, "We only know one master." "I note 

your number," continued M. Baze. "You are a dishonored 

regiment." The soldiers listened with a stolid air and seemed 

still asleep. Commissary Primorin said to them, "Do not answer, 

this has nothing to do with you." They led the Questor across 

the courtyard to the guardhouse at the Porte Noire. This was 

the name which was given to a little door contrived under the 

vault opposite the treasury of the Assembly, and which opened 

upon the Rue de Bourgogne, facing the Rue de Lille. Several 

sentries were placed at the door of the guard-house, and at the 

top of the flight of steps which led thither, M. Baze being left 

there in charge of three sergeants de ville. Several soldiers, 

without their weapons, and in their shirt-sleeves, came in and 

out. The Questor appealed to them in the name of military 

honor. "Do not answer," said the sergeant de ville to the 

soldiers. M. Baze's two little girls had followed him with 

terrified eyes, and when they lost sight of him the youngest 

burst into tears. "Sister," said the elder, who was seven years 

old, "let us say our prayers," and the two children, clasping 

their hands, knelt down. Commissary Primorin, with his swarm 

of agents, burst into the Questor's study and laid hands on 

everything. The first papers which he perceived on the middle 

of the table, and which he seized, were the famous decrees 

which had been prepared in the event of the Assembly having 

voted on the proposal of the Questors. All the drawers were 

opened and searched. This overhauling of M. Baze's papers, 

which the Commissary of Police termed a domiciliary visit, 

lasted more than an hour. M. Baze's clothes had been taken to 

him, and he had dressed. When the "domiciliary visit" was over, 

he was taken out of the guard-house. There was a fiacre in the 

courtyard, into which he entered, together with the three 

sergeants de ville. The vehicle, to reach the Presidency 

door, passed by the Cour d'Honneur and then by the Courde 

Canonis. The day was breaking. M. Baze looked into the courtyard 

to see if the cannon were still there. He saw the ammunition 

wagons ranged in order with their shafts raised, but the places 

of the six cannons and the two mortars were vacant. In the 

avenue of the Presidency, the fiacre stopped for a moment. Two 

lines of soldiers, standing at ease, lined the footpaths of the 

avenue. At the foot of a tree were grouped three men: Colonel 

Espinasse, whom M. Baze knew and recognized, a species of 

Lieutenant-Colonel, who wore a black and orange ribbon round 

his neck, and a Major of Lancers, all three swords in hand, 

consulting together. The windows of the fiacre were closed; M. 

Baze wished to lower them to appeal to these men; the 

sergeants de ville seized his arms. The Commissary Primorin then 

came up and was about to re-enter the little chariot for two 

persons who had brought him. "Monsieur Baze," said he, with 

that villainous kind of courtesy that the agents of the coup 

d'état willingly blended with their crime, "you must be 

uncomfortable with those three men in the fiacre. You are 

cramped; come in with me." "Let me alone," said the prisoner. 

"With these three men, I am cramped; with you, I should be 

contaminated." An escort of infantry was ranged on both sides 

of the fiacre. Colonel Espinasse called to the coachman, "Drive 

slowly by the Quai d'Orsay until you meet a cavalry escort. 

When the cavalry shall have assumed the charge, the infantry 

can come back." They set out. As the fiacre turned into the Quai 

d'Orsay a picket of the 7th Lancers arrived at full speed. It was 

the escort: the troopers surrounded the fiacre, and the whole 

galloped off. No incident occurred during the journey. Here and 

there, at the noise of the horses' hoofs, windows were opened 

and heads put forth; and the prisoner, who had at length 

succeeded in lowering a window heard startled voices saying, 

"What is the matter?" The fiacre stopped. "Where are we?" 

asked M. Baze. "At Mazas," said a sergent de ville. The Questor 

was taken to the office of the prison. Just as he entered he saw 

Baune and Nadaud are being brought out. There was a table in the 

center, at which Commissary Primorin, who had followed the 

fiacre in his chariot, had just seated himself. While the 

Commissary was writing, M. Baze noticed on the table a paper 

which was evidently a jail register, on which were these names, 

written in the following order: Lamoricière, Charras, Cavaignac, 

Changarnier, Leflô, Thiers, Bedeau, Roger (du Nord), 

Chambolle. This was probably the order in which the 

Representatives had arrived at the prison. When Sieur Primorin 

had finished writing, M. Baze said, "Now, you will be good 

enough to receive my protest, and add it to your official 

report." "It is not an official report," objected the Commissary, 

"it is simply an order for committal." "I intend to write my 

protest at once," replied M. Baze. "You will have plenty of time 

in your cell," remarked a man who stood by the table. M. Baze 

turned round. "Who are you?" "I am the governor of the 

prison," said the man. "In that case," replied M. Baze, "I pity 

you, for you are aware of the crime you are committing." The 

man turned pale and stammered a few unintelligible words. 

The Commissary rose from his seat; M. Baze briskly took 

possession of his chair, seated himself at the table, and said to 

Sieur Primorin, "You are a public officer; I request you to add 

my protest to your official report." "Very well," said the 

Commissary, "Let it be so." Baze wrote the protest as follows:— 

"I, the undersigned, Jean-Didier Baze, Representative of the 

People, and Questor of the National Assembly, carried off by 

violence from my residence in the Palace of the National 

Assembly, and conducted to this prison by an armed force 

which I couldn't resist, protest in the name of 

the National Assembly and in my own name against the outrage 

on national representation committed upon my colleagues and 

upon myself. "Given at Mazas on the 2nd December 1851, at 

eight o'clock in the morning. "BAZE." While this was taking 

place at Mazas, the soldiers were laughing and drinking in the 

courtyard of the Assembly. They made their coffee in the 

saucepans. They had lighted enormous fires in the courtyard; 

the flames, fanned by the wind, at times reached the walls of 

the Chamber. A superior official of the Questure, an officer of 

the National Guard, Ramond de la Croisette, ventured to say to 

them, "You will set the Palace on fire;" whereupon a soldier 

struck him a blow with his fist. Four of the pieces taken from 

the Cour de Canons were ranged in battery order against the 

Assembly; two on the Place de Bourgogne were pointed 

toward the grating, and two on the Pont de la Concorde were 

pointed toward the grand staircase. As a side-note to this 

instructive tale let us mention a curious fact. The 42d Regiment 

of the Line was the same which had arrested Louis Bonaparte at 

Boulogne. In 1840 this regiment lent its aid to the law against 

the conspirator. In 1851 it lent its aid to the conspirator against 

the law: such is the beauty of passive obedience. 

CHAPTER IV. OTHER DOINGS OF THE NIGHT During the same 

night in all parts of Paris acts of brigandage took place. 

Unknown men leading armed troops, and themselves armed 

with hatchets, mallets, pincers, crowbars, life preservers, 

swords were hidden under their coats, pistols, of which the butts 

could be distinguished under the folds of their cloaks, arrived in 

silence before a house occupied the street, encircling the 

approaches picked the lock of the door, tied up the porter, 

invaded the stairs, and burst through the doors upon a sleeping 

man, and when that man, awakening with a start, asked of 

these bandits, 

"Who are you?" their leader answered, "A Commissary of 

Police." So it happened to Lamoricière who was seized by 

Blanchet, who threatened him with the gag; to Greppo, who 

was brutally treated and thrown down by Gronfier, assisted by 

six men carrying a dark lantern and a pole-axe; to Cavaignac, 

who was secured by Colin, a smooth-tongued villain, who 

affected to be shocked on hearing him curse and swear; to M. 

Thiers, who was arrested by Hubaut (the elder); professed 

that he had seen him "tremble and weep," thus adding 

falsehood to crime; to Valentin, who was assailed in his bed by 

Dourlens, taken by the feet and shoulders and thrust into a 

padlocked police van; to Miot, destined to the tortures of 

African casemates; to Roger (du Nord), who with courageous 

and witty irony offered sherry to the bandits. Charras and 

Changarnier was taken unawares. They lived in the Rue St. 

Honoré, nearly opposite to each other, Changarnier at No. 3, 

Charras at No. 14. Ever since the 9th of September Changarnier 

had dismissed the fifteen men armed to the teeth by whom he 

had hitherto been guarded during the night, and on the 1st 

December, as we have said, Charras had unloaded his pistols. 

These empty pistols were lying on the table when they came to 

arrest him. The Commissary of Police threw himself upon them. 

"Idiot," said Charras to him, "if they had been loaded, you 

would have been a dead man." These pistols, we may note, had 

been given to Charras upon the taking of Mascara by General 

Renaud, who at the moment of Charras' arrest was on 

horseback in the street helping to carry out the coup d'état. If 

these pistols had remained loaded, and if General Renaud had 

had the task of arresting Charras, it would have been curious if 

Renaud's pistols had killed Renaud. Charras assuredly would 

not have hesitated. We have already mentioned the names of 

these police rascals. It is useless to repeat them. It was Courtille 

who arrested Charras, Lerat who arrested Changarnier, 

Desgranges who arrested Nadaud. The men thus seized in their 

own houses were Representatives of the people; they were 

inviolable so to the crime of the violation of their persons 

was added this high treason, the violation of the Constitution. 

There was no lack of impudence in the perpetration of these 

outrages. The police agents made merry. Some of these droll 

fellows jested. At Mazas the under-jailors jeered at Thiers, 

Nadaud reprimanded them severely. The Sieur Hubaut (the 

younger) awoke General Bedeau. "General, you are a 

prisoner."—"My person is inviolable."— "Unless you are caught 

red-handed, in the very act."—"Well," said Bedeau, "I am caught 

in the act, the heinous act of being asleep." They took him by the 

collar and dragged him to a fiacre. On meeting together at 

Mazas, Nadaud grasped the hand of Greppo, and Lagrange 

grasped the hand of Lamoricière. This made the police gentry 

laugh. A colonel, named Thirion, wearing a commander's cross 

around his neck, helped to put the Generals and the 

Representatives into jail. "Look me in the face," said Charras to 

him. Thirion moved away. Thus, without counting other arrests 

that took place later on, there were imprisoned during the 

night of the 2nd of December, sixteen Representatives and 

seventy-eight citizens. The two agents of the crime furnished a 

report of it to Louis Bonaparte. Morny wrote "Boxed up;" 

Maupas wrote "Quadded." The one in drawing-room slang, the 

other in the slang of the galleys. Subtle gradations of language. 

CHAPTER V. THE DARKNESS OF THE CRIME Versigny had just left 

me. While I dressed hastily there came in a man in whom I had 

every confidence. He was a poor cabinet-maker out of work, 

named Girard, to whom I had given shelter in a room of my 

house, a carver of wood, and not illiterate. He came in from the 

street; he was trembling. "Well," I asked, "what do the people 

say?" Girard answered me,— "People are dazed. The blow has 

been struck in such a manner that it is not realized. 

Workmen read the placards, say nothing, and go to their work. 

Only one in a hundred speaks. It is to say, 'Good!' This is how it 

appears to them. The law of the 31st May is abrogated—' Well 

done!' Universal suffrage is re-established—' Also well done!' 

The reactionary majority has been driven away—'Admirable!' 

Thiers is arrested—'Capital!' Changarnier is seized—'Bravo!' 

Round each placard there are claqueurs. Ratapoil explains his 

coup d'état to Jacques Bonhomme, Jacques Bonhomme takes it 

all in. Briefly, it is my impression that the people give their 

consent." "Let it be so," said I. "But," asked Girard of me, "what 

will you do, Monsieur Victor Hugo?" I took my scarf of office 

from a cupboard and showed it to him. He understood. We 

shook hands. As he went out Carini entered. Colonel Carini is an 

intrepid man. He had commanded the cavalry under 

Mieroslawsky in the Sicilian insurrection. He has, in a few 

moving and enthusiastic pages, told the story of that noble 

revolt. Carini is one of those Italians who love France as we 

Frenchmen love Italy. Every warm-hearted man in this century 

has two fatherlands— the Rome of yesterday and the Paris of 

today God," said Carini to me, "you are still free," and 

he added, "The blow has been struck in a formidable manner. 

The Assembly is invested. I have come from thence. The Place 

de la Révolution, the Quays, the Tuileries, and the boulevards, are 

crowded with troops. The soldiers have their knapsacks. The 

batteries are harnessed. If fighting takes place it will be 

desperate work." I answered him, "There will be fighting." And I 

added, laughing, "You have proved that the colonels write like 

poets; now it is the turn of the poets to fight like colonels." I 

entered my wife's room; she knew nothing and was quietly 

reading her paper in bed. I had taken about five hundred 

francs in gold. I put on my wife's bed a box containing nine 

hundred francs, all the money which remained to me, and I told 

her what had happened. She turned pale, and said to me, 

"What are you going to do?" "My duty." She embraced me, and 

only said two words:— "Do it." My breakfast was ready. I ate a 

cutlet in two mouthfuls. As I finished, my daughter came in. She 

was startled by how I kissed her and asked me, 

"What is the matter?" "Your mother will explain to you." And I 

left them. The Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne was as quiet and 

deserted as usual. Four workmen were, however, chatting near 

my door; they wished me "Good morning." I cried out to them, 

"You know what is going on?" "Yes," said they. "Well. It is 

treason! Louis Bonaparte is strangling the Republic. The people 

are attacked. The people must defend themselves." "They will 

defend themselves." "You promise me that?" "Yes," they 

answered. One of them added, "We swear it." They kept their 

word. Barricades were constructed in my street (Rue de la Tour 

d'Auvergne), in the Rue des Martyrs, in the Cité Rodier, in the 

Rue Coquenard, and at Notre-Dame de Lorette. 

CHAPTER VI. "PLACARDS" On leaving these brave men I could 

read at the corner of the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne and the 

Rue des Martyrs, the three infamous placards that had been 

posted on the walls of Paris during the night. Here they are. 

"PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 

"Appeal to the People. "FRENCHMEN! The present situation can 

last no longer. Every day that passes enhances the dangers of 

the country. The Assembly, which ought to be the firmest 

support of order has become a focus of conspiracies. The 

patriotism of three hundred of its members has been unable to 

check its fatal tendencies. Instead of making laws in the public 

interest it forges arms for civil war; it attacks the power that I 

hold directly from the People, it encourages all bad passions, it 

compromises the tranquillity of France; I have dissolved it, and I 

constitute the whole People a judge between it and me. "The 

Constitution, as you know, was constructed with the object of 

weakening beforehand the power that you were about to 

confide to me. Six million votes formed an emphatic protest 

against it, and yet I have faithfully respected it. Provocations, 

calumnies, and outrages, have found me unmoved. Now, however, 

that the fundamental compact is no longer respected by those 

very men who incessantly invoke it, and that the men who have 

ruined two monarchies wish to tie my hands to 

overthrow the Republic, I must frustrate their 

treacherous schemes, to maintain the Republic, and save the 

Country by appealing to the solemn judgment of the only 

Sovereign whom I recognize in France—the People. "I therefore 

make a loyal appeal to the whole nation, and I say to you: If you 

wish to continue this condition of uneasiness which degrades us 

and compromises our future, choose another in my place, for I 

will no longer retain a power which is impotent to do good, 

which renders me responsible for actions which I cannot 

prevent, and which binds me to the helm when I see the vessel 

driving towards the abyss. "If on the other hand, you still place 

confidence in me, give me the means of accomplishing the 

great mission which I hold from you. "This mission consists in 

closing the era of revolutions, by satisfying the legitimate needs 

of the People, and by protecting them from subversive 

passions. It consists, above all, of creating institutions which 

survive men, and which shall in fact form the foundations on 

which something durable may be established. "Persuaded that 

the instability of power, that the preponderance of a single 

Assembly, is the permanent cause of trouble and discord, I 

submit to your suffrage the following fundamental bases of a 

Constitution which will be developed by the Assemblies later

on:— "1. A responsible Chief was appointed for ten years. "2. 

Ministers are dependent upon the Executive Power alone. "3. A 

Council of State is composed of the most distinguished men, who 

shall prepare laws and shall support them in debate before the 

Legislative Body. "4. A Legislative Body which shall discuss and 

vote the laws, and which shall be elected by universal suffrage, 

without scrutin de liste, which falsifies the elections. "5. A 

The second Assembly was composed of the most illustrious men of the 

country, a power of equipoise the guardian of the fundamental 

compact, and of public liberties. "This system, created by 

the first Consul at the beginning of the century, has already 

given repose and prosperity to France; it would still insure them 

to her. "Such is my firm conviction. If you share it, declare it by 

your votes. If, on the contrary, you prefer a government 

without strength, Monarchical or Republican, borrowed I know 

not from what past, or from what chimerical future, answer in 

the negative. "Thus for the first time since 1804, you will vote 

with a full knowledge of the circumstances, knowing exactly for 

whom and for what. "If I do not obtain the majority of your 

suffrages I shall call together a New Assembly and shall place in 

its hands the commission which I have received from you. "But 

if you believe that the cause of which my name is the symbol,—

that is to say, France regenerated by the Revolution of '89, and 

organized by the Emperor, is to be still your own, proclaim it by 

sanctioning the powers which I ask from you. "Then France and 

Europe will be preserved from anarchy, obstacles will be 

removed, rivalries will have disappeared, for all will respect, in 

the decision of the People, the decree of Providence. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE." PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT 

OF THE REPUBLIC TO THE ARMY. "Soldiers! Be proud of your 

mission, you will save the country, for I count upon you not to 

violate the laws, but to enforce respect for the first law of the 

country, the national Sovereignty, of which I am the Legitimate 

Representative. "For a long time past, like myself, you have 

suffered from obstacles that have opposed themselves both 

to the good that I wished to do and to the demonstrations of 

your sympathies in my favor. These obstacles have been broken 

down. "The Assembly has tried to attack the authority which 

held from the whole Nation. It has ceased to exist. "I make a 

loyal appeal to the People and to the Army, and I say to them: 

Either give me the means of ensuring prosperity or choose 

another in my place. "In 1830, as in 1848, you were treated as 

vanquished men. After having branded your heroic 

disinterestedness, they disdained to consult your sympathies 

and your wishes, and yet you are the flower of the Nation. 

Today, at this solemn moment, I am resolved that the voice of 

the Army shall be heard. "Vote, therefore, freely as citizens; 

but, as soldiers do not forget that passive obedience to the 

orders of the Chief of the State is the rigorous duty of the Army, 

from the general to the private soldier. "It is for me, responsible 

for my actions both to the People and to posterity, to take 

those measures which may seem to me indispensable for the 

public welfare. "As for you, remain immovable within the rules 

of discipline and of honor. Your imposing attitude helps the 

country to manifest its will with calmness and reflection. "Be 

ready to repress every attack upon the free exercise of the 

sovereignty of the People. "Soldiers, I do not speak to you of 

the memories which my name recalls. They are engraved in 

your hearts. We are united by indissoluble ties. Your history is 

mine. There is between us, in the past, a community of glory 

and of misfortune. "There will be in the future community of 

sentiment and of resolutions for the repose and the greatness 

of France. "Given at the Palace of the Elysée, December 2, 

1851. "(Signed) L.N. BONAPARTE." "IN THE NAME OF THE 

FRENCH PEOPLE. "The President of the Republic decrees:—

"ARTICLE I. The National Assembly is dissolved. "ARTICLE II. 

Universal suffrage is re-established. The law of May 31 is 

abrogated. "ARTICLE III. The French People are convoked in 

their electoral districts from the 14th December to the 21st 

December following. "ARTICLE IV. The State of Siege is decreed 

in the district of the first Military Division. "ARTICLE V. The 

Council of State is dissolved. "ARTICLE VI. The Minister of the 

Interior is charged with the execution of this decree. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. "DE MORNY, Minister of the Interior." 

CHAPTER VII. NO. 70, RUE BLANCHE The Cité Gaillard is 

somewhat difficult to find. It is a deserted alley in that new 

quarter which separates the Rue des Martyrs from the Rue 

Blanche. I found it, however. As I reached No. 4, Yvan came out 

of the gateway and said, "I am here to warn you. The police 

have an eye on this house, Michel is waiting for you at No. 

70, Rue Blanche, a few steps from here." I knew No. 70, Rue 

Blanche. Manin, the celebrated President of the Venetian 

Republic lived there. It was not in his rooms, however, that the 

meeting was to take place. The porter of No. 70 told me to go 

up to the first floor. The door was opened, and a handsome, 

gray-haired woman of some forty summers, the Baroness 

Coppens, whom I recognized as having seen in society and at 

my own house, ushered me into a drawing room. Michel de 

Bourges and Alexander Rey were there, the latter an 

exConstituent, an eloquent writer, a brave man. At that time 

Alexander Rey edited the National. We shook hands. Michel 

said to me,— "Hugo, what will you do?" I answered him,—

"Everything." "That also is my opinion," said he. Numerous 

representatives arrived, and amongst others Pierre Lefranc, 

Labrousse, Théodore Bac, Noël Parfait, Arnauld (de l'Ariége), 

Demosthenes Ollivier, an ex-Constituent, and Charamaule. 

There was deep and unutterable indignation, but no useless 

words were spoken. All were imbued with that manly anger 

whence issued great resolutions. They talked. They set forth the 

situation. Each brought forward the news that he had learned. 

Théodore Bac came from Léon Faucher, who lived in the Rue 

Blanche. It was he who had awakened Léon Faucher, and had 

announced the news to him. The first words of Léon Faucher 

were, "It is an infamous deed." From the first moment 

Charamaule displayed courage which, during the four days of 

the struggle, never flagged for a single instant. Charamaule is a 

very tall man, possessed of vigorous features and convincing 

eloquence; he voted with the Left but sat with the Right. In the 

Assembly he was the neighbor of Montalembert and of 

Riancey. He sometimes had warm disputes with them, which 

we watched from afar off, and which amused us. Charamaule 

had come to the meeting at No. 70 dressed in a sort of blue 

cloth military cloak, and armed, as we found out later on. The 

situation was grave; sixteen Representatives were arrested, all the 

generals of the Assembly, and he who was more than a general, 

Charras. All the journals were suppressed, and all the printing offices 

occupied by soldiers. On the side of Bonaparte an army of 

80,000 men which could be doubled in a few hours; on our side 

nothing. The people were deceived, and moreover disarmed. The 

telegraph at their command. All the walls were covered with their 

placards, and at our disposal not a single printing case, not one 

sheet of paper. No means of raising the protest, no means of 

beginning the combat. The coup d'état was clad with mail, the 

Republic was naked; the coup d'état had a speaking trumpet, 

and the Republic wore a gag. What was to be done? The raid 

against the Republic, the Assembly, against Right, 

Law, Progress, against Civilization, was 

commanded by African generals. These heroes had just proved 

that they were cowards. They had taken their precautions well. 

Fear alone can engender so much skill. They had arrested all the 

men of war of the Assembly, and all the men of action of the 

Left, Baune, Charles Lagrange, Miot, Valentin, Nadaud, Cholat. 

Add to this that all the possible chiefs of the barricades were in 

prison. The organizers of the ambuscade had carefully left at 

liberty Jules Favre, Michel de Bourges, and myself, judging us to 

be less men of action than of the Tribune; wishing to leave the 

Left men capable of resistance, but incapable of victory, hoping 

to dishonor us if we did not fight, and to shoot us if we did 

fight. Nevertheless, no one hesitated. The deliberation began. 

Other representatives arrived every minute, Edgar Quinet, 

Doutre, Pelletier, Cassal, Bruckner, Baudin, Chauffour. The 

room was full, some were seated, and most were standing, in 

confusion, but without tumult. I was the first to speak. I said 

that the struggle ought to be begun at once. Blow for blow. 

It was my opinion that the hundred-and-fifty 

Representatives of the Left should put on their scarves of office, 

should march in procession through the streets and the 

boulevards as far as the Madeleine, and cry "Vive la 

République! Vive la Constitution!" should appear before the 

troops, and alone, calm and unarmed, should summon Might to 

obey Right. If the soldiers yielded, they should go to the 

Assembly and make an end of Louis Bonaparte. If the soldiers 

fired upon their legislators, they should disperse throughout 

Paris, crid "To Arms," and resorted to barricades. Resistance 

should be begun constitutionally, and if that failed, should be 

continued revolutionarily. There was no time to be lost. "High 

treason" said I, "should be seized red-handed, is a great 

mistake to suffer such an outrage to be accepted by the hours 

as they elapse. Each minute that passes is an accomplice and 

endorses the crime. Beware of that calamity called an 

'Accomplished fact.' To arms!" Many warmly supported this 

advice, among others Edgar Quinet, Pelletier, and Doutre. 

Michel de Bourges seriously objected. My instinct was to begin 

at once, his advice was to wait and see. According to him, there 

was danger in hastening the catastrophe. The coup d'état was 

organized, and the People were not. They had been taken 

unawares. We must not indulge in illusion. The masses could 

not stir yet. Perfect calm reigned in the faubourgs; Surprise 

existed, yes; Anger, no. The people of Paris, although so 

intelligent, did not understand. Michel added, "We are not in 

1830. Charles X., in turning out the 221, exposed himself to this 

blow, the re-election of the 221. We are not in the same 

situation. The 221 were popular. The present Assembly is not: a 

The chamber which has been insultingly dissolved is always sure to 

conquer if the People support it. Thus the People rose in 1830. 

To-daToday wait. They are dupes until they shall be victims." 

Michel de Bourges concluded, "The People must be given time 

to understand, to grow angry, to rise. As for us, representatives, 

we should be rash to precipitate the situation. If we were to 

march immediately straight upon the troops, we should only be 

shot to no purpose, and the glorious insurrection for Right 

would thus be beforehand deprived of its natural leaders—the 

Representatives of the People. We should decapitate the 

popular army. Temporary delay, on the contrary, would be 

beneficial. Too much zeal must be guarded against, selfrestraint 

is necessary, to give way would be to lose the battle before 

having begun it. Thus, for example, we must not attend the 

meeting announced by the Right for noon, all those who went 

there would be arrested. We must remain free, we must 

remain in readiness, we must remain calm, and must act 

waiting for the advent of the People. Four days of this agitation 

without fighting would weary the army." Michel, however, 

advised a beginning, but simply by placarding Article 68 of the 

Constitution. But where should a printer be found? Michel de 

Bourges spoke with an experience of revolutionary procedure 

which was wanting in me. For many years past he had acquired 

a certain practical knowledge of the masses. His council was 

wise. It must be added that all the information which came to 

us seconded him, and appeared conclusive against me. Paris 

was dejected. The army of the coup d'état invaded her 

peaceably. Even the placards were not torn down. Nearly all the 

Representatives present, even the most daring, agreed with 

Michel's counsel, to wait and see what would happen. "At 

night," said they, "the agitation will begin," and they concluded, 

like Michel de Bourges, that the people must be given time to 

understand. There would be a risk of being alone in too hasty a 

beginning. We should not carry the people with us in the first 

moment. Let us leave the indignation to increase little by little 

in their hearts. If it were begun prematurely our manifestation 

would miscarry. These were the sentiments of all. Myself, 

while listening to them, I felt shaken. Perhaps they were right. 

It would be a mistake to give the signal for the combat in vain. 

What good is the lightning which is not followed by the 

thunderbolt? To raise a voice, to give vent to a cry, to find a 

printer, there was the first question. But was there still a free 

Press? The brave old ex-chief of the 6th Legion, Colonel 

Forestier came in. He took Michel de Bourges and myself aside. 

"Listen," said he to us. "I come to you. I have been dismissed. I 

no longer command my legion but appoint me in the name of 

the Left, Colonel of the 6th. Sign me an order and I will go at 

once and call them to arms. In an hour the regiment will be on 

foot." "Colonel," answered I, "I will do more than sign an order, 

I will accompany you." And I turned towards Charamaule, who 

had a carriage in waiting. "Come with us," said I. Forestier was 

sure of two majors of the 6th. We decided to drive to them at 

once, while Michel and the other Representatives should await 

us at Bonvalet's, in the Boulevard du Temple, near the Café 

Turc. There they could consult together. We started. We 

traversed Paris, where people were already beginning to swarm 

in a threatening manner. The boulevards were thronged with 

an uneasy crowd. People walked to and fro, passers-by 

accosted each other without any previous acquaintance, a 

noteworthy sign of public anxiety; and groups talked in loud 

voices at the corners of the streets. The shops were being shut. 

"Come, this looks better," cried Charamaule. He had been 

wandering about the town since the morning, and he had 

noticed with sadness the apathy of the masses. We found the 

two majors at home upon whom Colonel Forestier counted. 

They were two rich linendrapers, who received us with some 

embarrassment. The shopmen had gathered together at the 

windows and watched us pass by. It was mere curiosity. In the 

meanwhile one of the two majors countermanded a journey 

which he was going to undertake on that day, and promised us 

his co-operation. "But," added he, "do not deceive yourselves, 

one can foresee that we shall be cut to pieces. Few men will 

march out." Colonel Forestier said to us, "Watrin, the present 

colonel of the 6th, does not care for fighting; perhaps he will 

resign me the command amicably. I will go and find him alone, 

to startle him the less, and will join you at Bonvalet's." 

Near the Porte St. Martin, we left our carriage, and Charamaule 

and I proceeded along the boulevard on foot, to 

observe the groups more closely, and more easily to judge the 

aspect of the crowd. The recent leveling of the road had 

converted the boulevard of the Porte St. Martin into a deep 

cutting, commanded by two embankments. On the summits of 

these embankments were the footways, furnished with railings. 

The carriages drove along the cutting, and the foot passengers 

walked along the footways. Just as we reached the boulevard, a 

long column of infantry filed into this ravine with drummers at 

their heads. The thick waves of bayonets filled the square of St. 

Martin, and lost themselves in the depths of the Boulevard 

Bonne Nouvelle. An enormous and compact crowd covered the 

two pavements of the Boulevard St. Martin. Large numbers of 

workmen, in their blouses, were there, leaning upon the 

railings. At the moment when the head of the column entered 

the defile before the Theatre of the Porte St. Martin a 

tremendous shout of "Vive la République!" came forth from 

every mouth as though shouted by one man. The soldiers 

continued to advance in silence, but it might have been said 

that their pace slackened, and many of them regarded the 

crowd with an air of indecision. What did this cry of "Vive la 

République!" mean? Was it a token of applause? Was it a shout 

of defiance? It seemed to me at that moment that the Republic 

raised its brow, and that the coup d'état hung its head. 

Meanwhile, Charamaule said to me, "You are recognized." In 

fact, near the Château d'Eau, the crowd surrounded me. Some 

young men cried out, "Vive Victor Hugo!" One of them asked 

me, "Citizen Victor Hugo, what ought we to do?" I answered, 

"Tear down the seditious placards of the coup d'état, and cry 

'Vive la Constitution!'" "And suppose they fire on us?" said a 

young workman. "You will hasten to arms." "Bravo!" shouted 

the crowd. I added, "Louis Bonaparte is a rebel, he has steeped 

himself to-datodayvery crime. We, Representatives of the 

People, declare him an outlaw, but there is no need for our 

declaration since he is an outlaw by the mere fact of his 

treason. Citizens, you have two hands; take in one your Right, 

and in the other, your gun and fall upon Bonaparte." "Bravo! 

Bravo!" again shouted the people. A tradesman who was 

shutting up his shop said to me, "Don't speak so loud, if they 

heard you talking like that, they would shoot you." "Well, then," 

I replied, "You would parade my body, and my death would be 

a boon if the justice of God could result from it." All shouted 

"Long live Victor Hugo!" "Shout 'Long live the Constitution,'" 

said I. A great cry of "Vive la Constitution! Vive la République;" 

came forth from every breast. Enthusiasm, indignation, and anger 

flashed in the faces of all. I thought then, and I still think, that 

this, perhaps, was the supreme moment. I was tempted to 

carry off all that crowd and to begin the battle. Charamaule 

restrained me. He whispered to me,— "You will bring about a 

useless fusillade. EveryEveryonenarmed. The infantry is only two 

paces from us, and see, here comes the artillery." I looked 

round; in truth, several pieces of cannon emerged at a quick trot 

from the Rue de Bondy, behind the Château d'Eau. The advice 

to abstain, given by Charamaule, made a deep impression on 

me. Coming from such a man, and one so dauntless, it was 

certainly not to be distrusted. Besides, I felt bound by 

the deliberation that had just taken place at the meeting in 

the Rue Blanche. I shrank before the responsibility that I 

should have incurred. To have taken advantage of such a 

moment might have been a victory, it might also have been a 

massacre. Was I right? Was I wrong? The crowd thickened 

around us, and it became difficult to go forward. We were 

anxious, however, to reach the rendezvous 

at Bonvalet's. Suddenly someone had me on the arm. It 

was Léopold Duras, of the National. "Go no further," he 

whispered, "the Restaurant Bonvalet is surrounded. Michel de 

Bourges attempted to harangue the People, but the 

soldiers came up. He barely succeeded in making his escape. 

Numerous Representatives who came to the meeting have 

been arrested. Retrace your steps. We are returning to the old 

rendezvous in the Rue Blanche. I have been looking for you to 

tell you this." A cab was passing; Charamaule hailed the driver. 

We jumped in, followed by the crowd, shouting, "Vive la 

République! Vive Victor Hugo!" It appears that just at that 

moment a squadron of sergeants de ville arrived on the 

Boulevard to arrest me. The coachman drove off at full speed. A 

quarter of an hour afterward we reached the Rue Blanche. 

CHAPTER VIII. "VIOLATION OF THE CHAMBER" At seven o'clock 

in the morning the Pont de la Concorde was still free. The large 

grated gate of the Palace of the Assembly was closed; through 

the bars might be seen the flight of steps, that flight of steps 

whence the Republic had been proclaimed on the 4th May, 

1848, covered with soldiers; and their piled arms might be 

distinguished upon the platform behind those high columns, 

which, during the time of the Constituent Assembly, after the 

15th of May and the 23rd of June masked small mountain mortars, 

loaded and pointed. A porter with a red collar, wearing the 

livery of the Assembly, stood by the little door of the grated 

gate. From time to time Representatives arrived. The porter 

said, "Gentlemen, are you Representatives?" and opened the 

door. Sometimes he asked their names. M. Dupin's quarters 

could be entered without hindrance. In the great gallery, in the 

dining room salon d'honneur of the Presidency, liveried 

attendants silently opened the doors as usual. Before daylight, 

immediately after the arrest of the Questors MM. Baze and 

Leflô, M. de Panat, the only Questor who remained free, having 

been spared or disdained as a Legitimist, awoke M. Dupin and 

begged him to summon immediately the Representatives from 

their own homes. M. Dupin returned this unprecedented 

answer, "I do not see any urgency." Almost at the same time as 

M. Panat, the Representative Jerôme Bonaparte had hastened 

thither. He had summoned M. Dupin to place himself at the 

head of the Assembly. M. Dupin had answered, "I cannot, I am 

guarded." Jerôme Bonaparte burst out laughing. In fact, no one 

had designed lace a sentinel at M. Dupin's door; they knew 

that it was guarded by his meanness. It was only later on, 

towards noon, that they took pity on him. They felt that the 

contempt was too great, and allotted him two sentinels. At halfpast seven, fifteen or twenty Representatives, among whom 

were MM. Eugène Sue, Joret, de Rességuier, and de Talhouet, 

met together in M. Dupin's room. They also had vainly argued 

with M. Dupin. In the recess of a window a clever member of 

the Majority, M. Desmousseaux de Givré, who was a little deaf 

and exceedingly exasperated, almost quarreled with a 

Representative of the Right like himself whom he wrongly 

supposed to be favorable to the coup d'état. M. Dupin, apart 

from the group of Representatives, alone dressed in black, his 

hands behind his back, his head sunk on his breast, walked up 

and down before the fire fireplace a large fire was burning. 

In his own room, and in his very presence, they were talking 

loudly about himself, yet he seemed not to hear. 

Two members of the Left came in, Benoît (du Rhône), and 

Crestin. Crestin entered the room and went straight up to M. 

Dupin, and said to him, "President, you know what is going on? 

How is it that the Assembly has not yet been convened?" M. 

Dupin halted, and answered, with a shrug that was habitual 

with him,— "There is nothing to be done." And he resumed his 

walk. "It is enough," said M. de Rességuier. "It is too much," 

said Eugène Sue. All the Representatives left the room. In the 

meantime, the Pont de la Concorde became covered with 

troops. Among them General Vast-Vimeux, lean, old, and little; 

his lank white hair plastered over his temples, in full uniform, 

with his laced hat on his head. He was laden with two huge 

epaulets and displayed his scarf, not that of a Representative, 

but of a general, which scarf, being too long, trailed on the 

ground. He crossed the bridge on foot, shouting to the soldiers 

inarticulate cries of enthusiasm for the Empire and the coup 

d'état. Such figures as these were seen in 1814. Only instead of 

wearing a large tri-colored, cockade, they wore a large white 

cockade. In the main the same phenomenon; old men crying, 

"Long live the Past!" Almost at the same moment M. de 

Larochejaquelein crossed the Place de la Concorde, surrounded 

by a hundred men in blouses, who followed him in silence, and 

with an air of curiosity. Numerous regiments of cavalry were 

drawn up in the grand avenue of the Champs Elysées. At eight 

o'clock a formidable force invested the Legislative Palace. All 

the approaches were guarded, and all the doors were shut. Some 

Representatives nevertheless succeeded in penetrating into the 

interior of the Palace, not, as has been wrongly stated, by the 

passage of the President's house on the side of the Esplanade 

of the Invalides, but by the little door of the Rue de Bourgogne, 

called the Black Door. This door, by what omission or what 

connivance I do not know, remained open till noon on the 2d 

December. The Rue de Bourgogne was nevertheless full of

troops. Squads of soldiers scattered here and there in the Rue 

de l'Université allowed passers-by, who were few and far 

between, to use it as a thoroughfare. The Representatives who 

entered by the door in Rue de Bourgogne penetrated as far as 

the Salle des Conférences, where they met their colleagues 

coming out from M. Dupin. A numerous group of men, 

representing every shade of opinion in the Assembly, was 

speedily assembled in this hall, amongst whom were MM. 

Eugène Sue, Richardet, Fayolle, Joret, Marc Dufraisse, Benoît 

(du Rhône), Canet, Gambon, d'Adelsward, Créqu, Répellin, 

Teillard-Latérisse, Rantion, General Leydet, Paulin Durrieu, 

Chanay, Brilliez, Collas (de la Gironde), Monet, Gaston, Favreau, 

and Albert de Rességuier. Each new-comer accosted M. de 

Panat. "Where are the vice-Presidents?" "In prison." "And the 

two other Questors?" "Also in prison. And I beg you to believe, 

gentlemen," added M. de Panat, "that I have had nothing to do 

with the insult which has been offered me, in not arresting me." 

Indignation was at its height; every political shade was blended 

in the same sentiment of contempt and anger, and M. de 

Rességuier was no less energetic than Eugène Sue. For the first 

time, the Assembly seemed only to have one heart and one 

voice. Each at length said what he thought of the man of the 

Elysée and it was then seen that for a long time past Louis 

Bonaparte had imperceptibly created a profound unanimity in 

the Assembly—the unanimity of contempt. M. Collas (of the 

Gironde) gesticulated and told his story. He came from the 

Ministry of the Interior. He had seen M. de Morny, he had 

spoken to him; and he, M. Collas, was incensed beyond 

measure at M. Bonaparte's crime. Since then, that Crime has 

made him a Councillor of State. M. de Panat went hither and 

thither among the groups, announcing to the Representatives 

that he had convened the Assembly for one o'clock. But it was 

impossible to wait until that hour. Time pressed. At the Palais 

Bourbon, as in the Rue Blanche, it was the universal feeling that 

each hour that passed by helped to accomplish the coup 

d'état. Everyone felt as a reproach the weight of his silence or 

of his inaction; the circle of iron was closing in, the tide of 

soldiers rose unceasingly, and silently invaded the Palace; at 

each instant, a sentinel the more was found at a door, which a 

moment before had been free. Still, the group of 

Representatives assembled together in the Salle des 

Conférences were as yet respected. It was necessary to act, to 

speak, to deliberate, to struggle, and not to lose a minute. 

Gambon said, "Let us try Dupin once more; he is our official 

man, we need him." They went to look for him. They 

could not find him. He was no longer there, he had 

disappeared, he was away, hidden, crouching, cowering, 

concealed, he had vanished, and he was buried. Where? No one 

knew. The cowardice has unknown holes. Suddenly a man entered 

the hall. A man who was a stranger to the Assembly, in uniform, 

wearing the epaulet of a superior officer and a sword by his 

side. He was a major of the 42d, who came to summon the 

Representatives to quit their own House. All, Royalists and 

Republicans alike, rushed upon him. Such was the expression of 

an indignant eye-witness. General Leydet addressed him in 

language such as leaving an impression on the cheek rather than 

on the ear. "I do my duty, I fulfill my instructions," stammered 

the officer. "You are an idiot, if you think you are doing your 

duty," cried Leydet to him, "and you are a scoundrel if you 

know that you are committing a crime. Your name? What do 

you call yourself? Give me your name." The officer refused to 

give his name, and replied, "So, gentlemen, you will not 

withdraw?" "No." "I shall go and obtain force." "Do so." He left 

the room, and in actual fact went to obtain orders from the 

Ministry of the Interior. The Representatives waited in that kind 

of indescribable agitation which might be called the Strangling 

of Rights by Violence. In a short time, one of them who had gone 

out came back hastily and warned them that two companies of 

the Gendarmerie Mobile were coming with their guns in their 

hands. Marc Dufraisse cried out, "Let the outrage be thorough. 

Let the coup d'état find us on our seats. Let us go to the Salle 

des Séances," he added. "Since things have come to such a 

pass, let us afford the genuine and living spectacle of an 18th 

Brumaire." They all repaired to the Hall of Assembly. The 

passage was free. The Salle Casimir-Périer was not yet occupied 

by the soldiers. They numbered about sixty. Several were 

girded with their scarves of office. They entered the Hall 

meditatively. There, M. de Rességuier, undoubtedly with a good 

purpose, and to form a more compact group, urged 

that they should all install themselves on the Right side. "No," 

said Marc Dufraisse, "everyone to his bench." They scattered 

themselves about the Hall, each in his usual place. M. 

Monet, who sat on one of the lower benches of the Left Centre, 

held in his hand a copy of the Constitution. Several minutes 

elapsed. No one spoke. It was the silence of expectation that 

precedes decisive deeds and final crises, and during which everyone seems respectful to listen to the last instructions of his 

conscience. Suddenly the soldiers of the Gendarmerie Mobile, 

headed by a captain with his sword drawn, appeared on the 

threshold. The Hall of Assembly was violated. The 

Representatives rose from their seats simultaneously, shouting 

"Vive la République!" The Representative Monet alone 

remained standing, and in a loud and indignant voice, which 

resounded through the empty hall like a trumpet, ordered the 

soldiers to halt. The soldiers halted, looking at the 

Representatives with a bewildered air. The soldiers as yet only 

blocked up the lobby of the Left and had not passed beyond 

the Tribune. Then Representative Monet read the Articles 

36, 37, and 68 of the Constitution. Articles 36 and 37 

established the inviolability of the Representatives. Article 68 

deposed the President in the event of treason. That moment 

was a solemn one. The soldiers listened in silence. The Articles 

having been read, Representative d'Adelsward, who sat on the 

first lower bench of the Left, and who was nearest to the 

soldiers, turned towards them and said,— "Soldiers, you see 

that the President of the Republic is a traitor, and would make 

traitors of you. You violate the sacred precinct of rational 

Representation. In the name of the Constitution, in the name of 

the Law, we order you to withdraw." While Adelsward was 

speaking, the major commanding the Gendarmerie Mobile had 

entered. "Gentlemen," said he, "I have orders to request you to 

retire, and, if you do not withdraw of your own accord, to expel 

you." "Orders to expel us!" exclaimed Adelsward; and all the 

Representatives added, "Whose orders; Let us see the orders. 

Who signed the orders?" The major drew forth a paper and 

unfolded it. Scarcely had he unfolded it than he attempted to 

replace it in his pocket, but General Leydet threw himself upon 

him and seized his arm. Several Representatives leaned forward, 

and read the order for the expulsion of the Assembly, signed 

"Fortoul, Minister of the Marine." Marc Dufraisse turned 

towards the Gendarmes Mobiles and cried out to them,—

"Soldiers, your very presence here is an act of treason. Leave 

the Hall!" The soldiers seemed undecided. Suddenly a second 

column emerged from the door on the right, and at a signal 

from the commander, the captain shouted,— "Forward! Turn 

them all out!" Then began an indescribable hand-to-hand fight 

between the gendarmes and the legislators. The soldiers, with 

their guns in their hands, invaded the benches of the Senate. 

Repellin, Chaney, and Rantion were forcibly torn from their seats. 

Two gendarmes rushed upon Marc Dufraisse, two upon 

Gambon. A long struggle took place on the first bench of the 

Right, the same place where MM. Odilon Barrot and Abbatucci 

were in the habit of sitting. Paulin Durrieu resisted violence by 

force, it needed three men to drag him from his bench. Monet 

was thrown down upon the benches of the Commissaries. They 

seized Adelsward by the throat and thrust him outside the Hall. 

Richardet, a feeble man, was thrown down and brutally 

treated. Some were pricked with the points of the bayonets; 

nearly all had their clothes torn. The commander shouted to 

the soldiers, "Rake them out." It was thus that sixty 

Representatives of the People were taken by the collar by the 

coup d'état, and driven from their seats. How 

the deed was executed completed the treason. The physical 

performance was worthy of the moral performance. The three 

last to come out were Fayolle, Teillard-Latérisse, and Paulin 

Durrieu. They were allowed to pass by the great door of the 

Palace, and they found themselves in the Place Bourgogne. The 

Place Bourgogne was occupied by the 42d Regiment of the Line, 

under the orders of Colonel Garderens. Between the Palace and 

the statue of the Republic, which occupied the center of the 

square, a piece of artillery was pointed at the Assembly 

opposite the great door. By the side of the cannon some 

Chasseurs de Vincennes were loading their guns and biting their 

cartridges. Colonel Garderens was on horseback near a group of 

soldiers, which attracted the attention of the 

Representatives Teillard-Latérisse, Fayolle, and Paulin Durrieu. 

In the middle of this group three men, who had been arrested, 

were struggling crying, "Long live the Constitution! Vive la 

République!" Fayolle, Paulin Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse 

approached, and recognized in the three prisoners three 

members of the majority, Representatives Toupet-des-Vignes 

Radoubt, Lafosse, and Arbey. Representative Arbey was warmly 

protesting. As he raised his voice, Colonel Garderens cut him 

short with these words, which are worthy of preservation,—

"Hold your tongue! One word more, and I will have you 

thrashed with the butt-end of a musket." The three 

Representatives of the Left indignantly called on the Colonel to 

release their colleagues. "Colonel," said Fayolle, "You break the 

law threefold." "I will break it sixfold," answered the Colonel, 

and he arrested Fayolle, Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse. The 

soldiers were ordered to conduct them to the guard house of 

the Palace then being built for the Minister of Foreign Affairs. 

On the way the six prisoners, marching between a double file of 

bayonets, met three of their colleagues Representative Eugène 

Sue, Chanay, and Benoist (du Rhône). Eugène Sue placed 

himself before the officer who commanded the detachment, 

and said to him,— "We summon you to set our colleagues at 

liberty." "I cannot do so," answered the officer. "In that case 

complete your crimes," said Eugène Sue, "We summon you to 

arrest us also." The officer arrested them. They were taken to 

the guard-house of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, and, later 

on, to the barracks of the Quai d'Orsay. It was not till night that 

two companies of the line came to transfer them to this 

ultimate redirecting place placing them between his soldiers 

the commanding officer bowed down to the ground, politely 

remarking, "Gentlemen, my men's guns are loaded." The 

clearance of the hall was carried out, as we have said, in a 

disorderly fashion, the soldiers pushing the Representatives 

before them through all the outlets. Some, and amongst the 

number those of whom we have just spoken, went by the 

Rue de Bourgogne, others were dragged through the Salle des 

Pas Perdus towards the grated door opposite the Pont de la 

Concorde. The Salle des Pas Perdus has an ante-chamber, a sort 

of crossway room, upon which opened the staircase of the High 

Tribune, and several doors, amongst others the great glass door 

of the gallery which leads to the apartments of the President of 

the Assembly. As soon as they had reached this crossway room 

which adjoins the little rotunda, where the side door of exit to 

the Palace is situated, the soldiers set the Representatives free. 

There, in a few moments, a group was formed, in which the 

Representatives Canet and Favreau began to speak. One 

universal cry was raised, "Let us search for Dupin, let us drag 

him here if it is necessary." They opened the glass door and 

rushed into the gallery. This time M. Dupin was at home. M. 

Dupin, having learned that the gendarmes had cleared out the 

Hall had come out of his hiding place Assembly being 

thrown prostrate, Dupin stood erect. The law being made 

prisoner, this man felt himself set free. The group of 

Representatives, led by MM. Canet and Favreau found him in 

his study. There a dialogue ensued. The Representatives 

summoned the President to put himself at their head, and to 

re-enter the Hall, he, the man of the Assembly, with them, the 

men of the Nation. M. Dupin refused point-blank, maintained 

his ground, was very firm, and clung bravely to his nonentity. 

"What do you want me to do?" said he, mingling with his 

alarmed protests many law maxims and Latin quotations, an 

instinct of chattering jays, who pour forth all their vocabulary 

when they are frightened. "What do you want me to do? Who 

am I? What can I do? I am nothing. No one is any longer 

anything. Ubi nihil, nihil. Might be there. Where there is Might 

the people lose their Rights. Novus nascitur ordo. Shape your 

course accordingly. I am obliged to submit. Dura lex, sed lex. A 

law of necessity we admit, but not a law of right. But what is to 

be done? I ask to be let alone. I can do nothing. I do what I can. 

I do not want in good goodwill to have a corporal and four men, I 

would have them killed." "This man only recognizes force," said 

the Representatives. "Very well, let us employ force." They 

used violence towards him, they girded him with a scarf like a 

cord round his neck, and, as they had said, they dragged him 

towards the Hall, begging for his "liberty," moaning, kicking—I 

would say wrestling, if the word were not too exalted. Some 

minutes after the clearance, this Salle des Pas Perdus, which 

had just witnessed Representatives pass by in the clutch of 

gendarmes saw M. Dupin in the clutch of the Representatives. 

They did not get far. Soldiers barred the great green 

folding doors. Colonel Espinasse hurried thither, the 

commander of the gendarmerie came up. The butt-ends of a 

pair of pistols were seen peeping out of the commander's 

pocket. The colonel was pale, the commander was pale, M. 

Dupin was livid. Both sides were afraid. M. Dupin was afraid of 

the colonel; the colonel assuredly was not afraid of M. Dupin, 

but behind this laughable and miserable figure he saw a terrible 

phantom rise up—his crime, and he trembled. In Homer, there 

is a scene where Nemesis appears behind Thersites. M. Dupin 

remained for some moments stupefied, bewildered, and 

speechless. The 

Representative Gambon exclaimed to him,— "Now then, speak, 

M. Dupin, the Left does not interrupt you." Then, with the 

words of the Representatives at his back, and the bayonets of 

the soldiers at his breast, the unhappy man spoke. What his 

mouth uttered at this moment, what the President of the 

Sovereign Assembly of France stammered to the gendarmes at 

this intensely critical moment, no one could gather. Those who 

heard the last gasps of this moribund cowardice hastened to 

purify their ears. It appears, however, that he stuttered forth 

something like this:— "You are Might, you have bayonets; I 

invoke Right, and I leave you. I have the honor to wish you a good 

day." He went away. They let him go. At the moment of leaving, 

he turned around and heard a few more words. We will not 

gather them up. History has no rag-pickers basket. 

CHAPTER IX. AN END WORSE THAN DEATH We should have 

been glad to have put aside, never to have spoken of him again, 

this man who had borne for three years this most honorable 

title, President of the National Assembly of France, and who 

had only known how to be lacquey to the majority. He 

contrived in his last hour to sink even lower than could have 

been believed possible even for him. His career in the Assembly 

had been that of a valet, his end was that of a scullion. The 

unprecedented attitude that M. Dupin assumed before the 

gendarmes when uttering with a grimace his mockery of a 

protest, even engendered suspicion. Gambion exclaimed, "He 

resists like an accomplice. He knew all." We believe these 

suspicions to be unjust. M. Dupin knew nothing. Who indeed 

amongst the organizers of the coup d'état would have taken 

the trouble to make sure of his joining them? Corrupt M. 

Dupin? Was it possible? and, further, to what purpose? To pay 

him? Why? It would be money wasted when fear alone was 

enough. Some connivances are secured before they are sought 

for. Cowardice is the old fawner upon felony. The blood of the 

law is quickly wiped up. Behind the assassin who holds the 

poniard comes the trembling wretch who holds the sponge. 

Dupin took refuge in his study. They followed him. "My God!" 

he cried, "Can't understand that I want to be left in peace." 

In truth, they had tortured him ever since the morning, to extract from him an impossible scrap of courage. "You treat 

me worse than the gendarmes," said he. The Representatives 

installed themselves in his study, seated themselves at his 

table, and, while he groaned and scolded in an arm-chair, they 

drew up a formal report of what had just taken place, as they 

wished to leave an official record of the outrage in the archives. 

When the official report was ended Representative Canet read 

it to the President and offered him a pen. "What do you want 

me to do with this?" he asked. "You are the President," 

answered Canet. "This is our last sitting. You must sign 

the official report." This man refused. 

 

CHAPTER X. THE BLACK DOOR M. Dupin is a matchless disgrace. 

Later on, he had his reward. It appears that he became some 

sort of an Attorney-General at the Court of Appeal. M. Dupin 

renders to Louis Bonaparte the service of being in his place the 

meanest of men. To continue this dismal history. The 

Representatives of the Right, in their first bewilderment caused 

by the coup d'état, hastened in large numbers to M. Daru, who 

was Vice-President of the Assembly, and at the same time one 

of the Presidents of the Pyramid Club. This Association had 

always supported the policy of the Elysée, but without believing 

that a coup d'état was premeditated. M. Daru lived at No. 75, 

Rue de Lille. Towards ten o'clock in the morning, about a 

hundred of these Representatives had assembled at M. Daru's 

home. They resolved to attempt to penetrate into the Hall 

where the Assembly held its sittings. The Rue de Lille opens out 

into the Rue de Bourgogne, almost opposite the little door by 

which the Palace is entered, and which is called the Black Door. 

They turned their steps towards this door, with M. Daru at their 

head. They marched arm in arm and three abreast. Some of 

them had put on their scarves of office. They took them off 

later on. The Black Door, half-open as usual, was only guarded 

by two sentries. Some of the most indignant, and amongst 

them M. de Kerdrel, rushed towards this door and tried to pass. 

The door, however, was violently shut, and there ensued 

between the Representatives and the sergeants de ville who 

hastened up, a species of struggle, in which a Representative 

had his wrist sprained. At the same time a battalion that was 

drawn up on the Place de Bourgogne moved on, and came at 

the double towards the group of Representatives. M. Daru, 

stately and firm, signed to the commander to stop; the 

battalion halted, and M. Daru, in the name of the Constitution, 

and in his capacity as Vice-President of the Assembly, 

summoned the soldiers to lay down their arms, and give free 

passage to the Representatives of the Sovereign People. The 

commaCommanderhe battalion replied with an order to clear the 

the street immediately, declaring that there was no longer an 

Assembly; that as for himself, he did not know what the 

Representatives of the People were, and that if those persons 

before him did not retire of their own accord, he would drive 

them back by force. "We will only yield to violence," said M. 

Daru. "You commit high treason," added M. de Kerdrel. The 

officer gave the order to charge. The soldiers advanced in close 

order. There was a moment of confusion; almost a collision. The 

Representatives, forcibly driven back, ebbed into the Rue de Lille. 

Some of them fell down. Several members of the Right were 

rolled in the mud by the soldiers. One of them, M. Etienne, 

received a blow on the shoulder from the butt-end of a musket. 

We may here add that a week afterwards M. Etienne was a 

member of that concern which they styled the Consultative 

Committee. He found the coup d'état to his taste, the blow with 

the butt end of a musket included. They went back to M. Daru's 

house, and on the way, the scattered group reunited and was 

even strengthened by some newcomers. "Gentlemen," said M. 

Daru, "The president has failed us, the Hall is closed against us. I 

am the Vice-President; my house is the Palace of the Assembly." 

He opened a large room, and there the Representatives of the 

Right installed themselves. At first, the discussions were 

somewhat noisy. M. Daru, however, observed that the moments 

were precious, and silence was restored. The first measure to be 

taken was evidently the deposition of the President of the 

Republic by Article 68 of the Constitution. Some 

Representatives of the party which was called Burgraves sat 

round a table and prepared the deed of deposition. As they were 

about to read it aloud a Representative who came in from out of 

doors appeared at the door of the room, and announced to the 

Assembly that the Rue de Lille was becoming filled with troops 

and that the house was being surrounded. There was not a 

moment to lose. M. Benoist-d'Azy said, "Gentlemen, let us go to 

the Mairie of the tenth arrondissement; there we shall be able 

to deliberate under the protection of the tenth legion, of which 

our colleague, General Lauriston, is the colonel." M. Daru's house 

had a back entrance by a little door which was at the bottom of 

the garden. Most of the Representatives went out that way. M. 

Daru was about to follow them. Only himself, M. Odilon Barrot, 

and two or three others remained in the room when the door 

opened. A captain entered, and said to M. Daru,— "Sir, you are 

my prisoner." "Where am I to follow you?" asked M. Daru. "I have 

orders to watch over you in your own house." The house, in 

truth, was militarily occupied, and it was thus that M. Daru was 

prevented from taking part in the sitting at the Mairie of the 

tenth arrondissement. The officer allowed M. Odilon Barrot to 

go out. 

 

 

CHAPTER XI. THE HIGH COURT OF JUSTICE While all this was 

taking place on the left bank of the river, towards noon a man 

was noticed walking up and down the great Salles des Pas 

Perdus of the Palace of Justice. This man carefully buttoned up 

in an overcoat, appeared to be attended at a distance by 

several possible supporters—for certain police enterprises 

employ assistants whose dubious appearance renders the 

passers-by uneasy, so much so that they wonder whether they 

are magistrates or thieves. The man in the buttoned-up 

overcoat loitered from door to door, from lobby to lobby, 

exchanging signs of intelligence with the myrmidons who 

followed him; then came back to the great, stopping on the 

way the barristers, solicitors, ushers, clerks, and attendants, 

and repeating to all in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the 

passers-by, the same question. To this question, some answered 

"Yes," others replied "No." And the man set to work again, 

prowling about the Palace of Justice with the appearance of a 

bloodhound seeking the trail. He was a Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police. What was he looking for? The High Court of 

Justice. What was the High Court of Justice doing? It was hiding. 

Why? To sit in Judgment? Yes and no. The Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police had that morning received from the Prefect 

Maupas the order to search everywhere for the place where 

the High Court of Justice might be sitting if perchance it 

thought it its duty to meet. Confusing the High Court with the 

Council of State, the Commissary of Police had first gone to the 

Quai d'Orsay. Having found nothing, not even the Council of 

State, he had come away empty-handed, at all events had 

turned his steps towards the Palace of Justice, thinking that as 

he had to search for justice he would perhaps find it there. Not 

finding it, he went away. The High Court, however, had 

nevertheless met together. Where, and how? We shall see. At 

the period whose annals we are now chronicling, before the 

present reconstruction of the old buildings of Paris, when the 

Palace of Justice was reached by the Cour de Harlay, a staircase 

the reverse of majestic led thither by turning out into a long 

corridor called the Gallerie Mercière. Towards the middle of 

this corridor, there were two doors; one on the right, which led 

to the Court of Appeal, and the other on the left, which led to the 

Court of Cassation. The fold folding door she left opened upon 

an old gallery called St. Louis, recently restored, and which 

serves at the present time for a Salle des Pas Perdus to the 

barristers of the Court of Cassation. A wooden statue of St. 

Louis stood opposite the entrance door. An entrance contrived 

in a niche to the right of this statue led into a winding lobby 

ending in a sort of blind passage, which apparently was closed 

by two double doors. On the door to the right might be read 

"First President's Room;" on the door to the left, "Council 

Chamber." Between these two doors, for the convenience of 

the barristers going from the Hall to the Civil Chamber, which 

formerly the Great Chamber of Parliament had been 

formed a narrow and dark passage, in which, as one of them 

remarked, "Everywhere could be committed with impunity." 

Leaving on one side the First President's Room and opening the 

door which bore the inscription "Council Chamber," a large 

room was crossed, furnished with a huge horsehorseshoee, 

surrounded by green chairs. At the end of this room, which in 

1793 had served as a deliberating hall for the juries of the 

Revolutionary Tribunal, there was a door placed in the 

wainscoting, which led into a little lobby where there were two doors, 

on the right, the door of the room appertaining to the President 

of the Criminal Chamber, on the left the door of the 

Refreshment Room. "Sentenced to death!—Now let us go and 

dine!" These two ideas, Death and Dinner, have jostled against 

each other for centuries. A third door closed the extremity of 

this lobby. This door was, so to speak, the last of the Palace of 

Justice, the farthest off, the least known, the most hidden; it 

opened into what was called the Library of the Court of 

Cassation, a large square room lighted by two windows 

overlooking the great inner yard of the Concièrgerie, furnished 

with a few leather chairs, a large table covered with green 

cloth, and with law books lining the walls from the floor to the 

ceiling. This room, as may be seen, is the most secluded, and the 

best hidden of any in the Palace. It was here,—in this room, 

that there arrived successively on the 2d December, towards 

eleven o'clock in the morning, numerous men dressed in black, 

without robes, without badges of office, affrighted, bewildered, 

shaking their heads, and whispering together. These trembling 

men were the High Court of Justice. The High Court of Justice, 

according to the terms of the Constitution, was composed of 

seven magistrates; a President, four Judges, and two Assistants, 

chosen by the Court of Cassation from among its own members 

and renewed every year. In December 1851, these seven 

judges were named Hardouin, Pataille, Moreau, Delapalme, 

Cauchy, Grandet, and Quesnault, the two last-named being 

Assistants. These men, almost unknown, had nevertheless 

some antecedents. M. Cauchy, a few years previously President 

of the Chamber of the Royal Court of Paris, an amiable man and 

easily frightened, was the brother of the mathematician, 

member of the Institute, to whom we owe the computation of 

waves of sound, and of the ex-Registrar Archivist of the 

Chamber of Peers. M. Delapalme had been Advocate-General, 

and had taken a prominent part in the Press trials under the 

Restoration; M. Bataille had been Deputy of the Centre under 

the Monarchy of July; M. Moreau (de la Seine) was noteworthy, 

inasmuch he had been nicknamed "de la Seine" to distinguish 

him from M. Moreau (de la Meurthe), who on his side was 

noteworthy, since he had been nicknamed "de la 

Meurthe" to distinguish him from M. Moreau (de la Seine). The 

first Assistant, M. Grandet, had been President of the Chamber 

at Paris. I have read this panegyric of him: "He is known to 

possess no individuality or opinion of his own whatsoever." The 

second Assistant, M. Quesnault, a Liberal, a Deputy, a Public 

Functionary, Advocate General, a Conservative, learned, 

obedient, had attained by making a stepping-stone of each of 

these attributes, to the Criminal Chamber of the Court of 

Cassation, where he was known as one of the most severe 

members. 1848 used his notion of Rights, he  

and resigned after the 24th of February; he did not resign after the 

2d December. M. Hardouin, who presided over the High Court, 

was an ex-Prex-presidentssizes, a religious man, a rigid 

Jansenist, noted amongst his colleagues as a "scrupulous 

magistrate," living in Port Royal, a diligent reader of Nicolle, 

belonging to the race of the old Parliamentarians of the Marais, 

who used to go to the Palais de Justice mounted on a mule; the 

the mule had now gone out of fashion, and whoever visited 

President Hardouin would have found no more obstinacy in his 

stable than in his conscience. On the morning of the 2d 

December, at nine o'clock, two men mounted the stairs of M. 

Hardouin's house, No. 10, Rue de Condé, and met together at 

his door. One was M. Pataille; the other, one of the most 

prominent members of the bar of the Court of Cassation was 

the ex-Constituent Martin (of Strasbourg). M. Bataille had just 

placed himself at M. Hardouin's disposal. Martin's first thought, 

while reading the placards of the coup d'état, had been for the 

High Court. M. Hardouin ushered M. Pataille into a room 

adjoining his study and received Martin (of Strasbourg) as a 

man to whom he did not wish to speak before witnesses. Being 

formally requested by Martin (of Strasbourg) to convene the 

High Court, he begged that he would leave him alone, declared 

that the High Court would "do its duty," but that first, he must 

"confer with his college HISTORY OF A CRIME THE TESTIMONY OF

AN EYE-WITNESS BY VICTOR HUGO THE FIRST

DAY—

 

THE AMBUSH. CHAPTER I. "SECURITY" On December 1, 1851, 

Charras shrugged his shoulder and unloaded his pistols. In 

truth, the belief in the possibility of a coup d'état had become 

humiliating. The supposition of such illegal violence on the part 

of M. Louis Bonaparte vanished upon serious consideration. 

The great question of the day was manifestly the Devincq 

election; it was clear that the Government was only thinking of 

that matter. As to a conspiracy against the Republic and against 

the People, how could anyone premeditate such a plot? Where 

was the man capable of entertaining such a dream? There must be an actor for a tragedy, and here assuredly the actor 

was wanting. To outrage Right, to suppress the Assembly, to 

abolish the Constitution, to strangle the Republic, to overthrow 

the Nation, to sully the Flag, to dishonor the Army, to suborn 

the Clergy and the Magistracy, to succeed, to triumph, to 

govern, to administer, to exile, to banish, to transport, to ruin, 

to assassinate, to reign, with such complicities that the law at 

last resembles a foul bed of corruption. What! All these 

enormities were to be committed! And by whom? By a 

Colossus? No, by a dwarf. People laughed at the notion. They 

no longer said "What a crime!" but "What a farce!" For after all 

they reflected; heinous crimes require stature. Certain crimes 

are too lofty for certain hands. A man who would achieve an 

18th Brumaire must have Arcola in his past and Austerlitz in his 

future. The art of becoming a great scoundrel is not accorded to 

the firstcomer. People said to themselves, Who is this son of 

Hortense? He has Strasbourg behind him instead of Arcola, and 

Boulogne in place of Austerlitz. He is a Frenchman, born a 

Dutchman, and naturalized a Swiss; he is a Bonaparte crossed 

with a Verhuell; he is only celebrated for the ludicrousness of 

his imperial attitude, and he who would pluck a feather from 

his eagle would risk finding a goose's quill in his hand. This 

Bonaparte does not pass currency in the array, he is a 

counterfeit image less of gold than of lead, and assuredly 

French soldiers will not give us the change for this false 

Napoleon in rebellion, in atrocities, in massacres, in outrages, in 

treason. If he should attempt roguery it would miscarry. Not a 

regiment would stir. Besides, why should he make such an 

attempt? Doubtless, he has his suspicious side, but why suppose 

he is an absolute villain? Such extreme outrages are beyond 

him; he is incapable of them physically, so why judge him as capable 

of them morally? Has he not pledged honor? Has he not said, 

"No one in Europe doubts my word?" Let us fear nothing. To 

this could be answered, Crimes are committed either on a 

grand or on a mean scale. In the first category there is Caesar; 

in the second there is Mandarin. Caesar passes the Rubicon, 

Mandrin bestrides the gutter. But wise men interposed, "Are 

Are we not prejudiced by offensive conjectures? This man has been 

exiled and unfortunate. Exile enlightens, misfortune corrects." 

For his part, Louis Bonaparte protested energetically. Facts 

abounded in his favor. Why should he not act in good faith? He 

had made remarkable promises. Towards the end of October, 

1848, then a candidate for the Presidency, he was calling at No. 

37, Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne, on a certain personage, to 

whom he remarked, "I wish to have an explanation with you. 

They slander me. Do I give you the impression of a madman? 

They think that I wish to revivify Napoleon. There are two men 

whom a great ambition can take for its models, Napoleon and 

Washington. The one is a man of Genius, the other is a man of 

Virtue. It is ridiculous to say, 'I will be a man of Genius;' it is 

honest to say, 'I will be a man of Virtue.' Which of these 

depends upon ourselves? Which can we accomplish by our will? 

To be a Genius? No. To be Probity? Yes. The attainment of Genius 

is not possible; the attainment of Probity is a possibility. And 

what could I revive of Napoleon? One sole thing—a crime. Truly 

a worthy ambition! Why should I be considered a man? The 

Republic being established, I am not a great man, I shall not 

copy Napoleon, but I am an honest man. I shall imitate 

Washington. My name, the name of Bonaparte, will be 

inscribed on two pages of the history of France: on the first, 

there will be crime and glory, on the second probity and honor. 

And the second will perhaps be worth the first. Why? Because if 

Napoleon is the greater, and Washington is the better man. 

Between the guilty hero and the good citizen, I choose the good 

citizen. Such is my ambition." From 1848 to 1851 three years 

elapsed. People had long suspected Louis Bonaparte, but 

long-continued suspicion blunts the intellect and wears itself out 

by fruitless alarms. Louis Bonaparte had dissimulating 

ministers such as Magne and Rouher, but he also had 

straightforward ministers such as Léon Faucher and Odilon 

Barrot, and these last affirmed that he was upright and 

sincere. He had been seen to beat his breast before the doors 

of Ham; his foster sister, Madame Hortense Cornu, wrote to 

Mieroslawsky, "I am a good Republican, and I can answer for 

him." His friend of Ham, Peauger, a loyal man, declared, "Louis 

Bonaparte is incapable of treason." Had not Louis Bonaparte 

written the work entitled "Pauperism"? In the intimate circles 

of the Elysée Count Potocki was a Republican and Count 

d'Orsay was a Liberal; Louis Bonaparte said to Potocki, "I am a 

man of the Democracy," and to D'Orsay, "I am a man of 

Liberty." The Marquis du Hallays opposed the coup d'état, while 

the Marquise du Hallays was in its favor. Louis Bonaparte said 

to the Marquis, "Fear nothing" (he indeed whispered to 

the Marquise, "Make your mind easy"). The Assembly, after 

having shown here and there some symptoms of uneasiness, 

had grown calm. There was General Neumayer, "who was to be 

depended upon," and who from his position at Lyons would at 

need march upon Paris. Changarnier exclaimed, 

"Representatives of the people, deliberate in peace." Even 

Louis Bonaparte himself had pronounced these famous words, 

"I should see an enemy of my country in anyone who would 

change by force that which has been established by law,", 

moreover, the Army was a "force," and the Army possessed 

leaders, leaders who were beloved and victorious. Lamoricière, 

Changarnier, Cavaignac, Leflô, Bedeau, Charras; how could anyone imagine the Army of Africa arresting the Generals of Africa? 

On Friday, November 28, 1851, Louis Bonaparte said to Michel 

de Bourges, "If I wanted to do wrong, I could not. Yesterday, 

Thursday, I invited to my table five Colonels of the garrison of 

Paris and the whim seized me to question each one by himself. 

All five declared to me that the Army would never lend itself to 

a coup de force, nor attack the inviolability of the Assembly. 

You can tell your friends this."—"He smiled," said 

Michel de Bourges reassured, "and I also smiled." After this, 

Michel de Bourges declared in the Tribune, "This is the man for 

me." In that same month of November a satirical journal, 

charged with calumniating the President of the Republic, was 

sentenced to fine and imprisonment for a caricature depicting a 

shooting gallery and Louis Bonaparte using the Constitution as 

a target. Morigny, Minister of the Interior, declared in the 

Council before the President "that a Guardian of Public Power 

ought never to violate the law as otherwise he would be—" "a 

dishonest man," interposed the President. All these words and 

all these facts were notorious. The material and moral 

impossibility of the coup d'état was manifest to all. To outrage 

the National Assembly! To arrest the Representatives! What 

madness! As we have seen, Charras, who had long remained on 

his guard, unloaded his pistols. The feeling of security was 

complete and unanimous. Nevertheless, there were some of us 

in the Assembly who still retained a few doubts, and who 

occasionally shook our heads, but we were looked upon as 

fools. 

CHAPTER II. PARIS SLEEPS—THE BELL RINGS On the 2d 

December 1851, Representative Versigny, of the Haute-Saône, 

who resided at Paris, at No. 4, Rue Léonie, was asleep. He slept 

soundly; he had been working till late at night. Verisign was a 

young man of thirty-two, soft-featured and fair-complexioned, of 

a courageous spirit, and a mind tending towards social and 

economic studies. He had passed the first hours of the night in 

the perusal of a book by Bastiat, in which he was making marginal 

notes, and, leaving the book open on the table, he had fallen 

asleep. Suddenly he awoke with a start at the sound of a sharp 

ring at the bell. He sprang up in surprise. It was dawn. It was 

about seven o'clock in the morning. Never dreaming what could 

be the motive for so early a visit, and thinking that someone had 

mistaken the door, he again lay down, and was about to resume 

his slumber, when a second ring at the bell, still louder than the 

first, completely aroused him. He got up in his night-shirt and 

opened the door. Michel de Bourges and 

Théodore Bac entered. Michel de Bourges was the neighbor of 

Versigny; he lived at No. 16, Rue de Milan. Théodore Bac and 

Michel were pale and appeared greatly agitated. "Versigny," 

said Michel, "Dress yourself at once—Baune has just been 

arrested." "Bah!" exclaimed Versigny. "Is the Mauguin business 

beginning again?" "It is more than that," replied Michel. 

"Baune's wife and daughter came to me half an hour ago. They 

awoke me. Baune was arrested in bed at six o'clock this 

morning." "What does that mean?" asked Versigny. The bell 

rang again. "This will probably tell us," answered Michel de 

Bourges. Verisign opened the door. It was the Representative 

Pierre Lefranc. He brought, in truth, the solution of the enigma. 

"Do you know what is happening?" said he. "Yes," answered 

Michel. "Baune is in prison." "It is the Republic who is a 

prisoner," said Pierre Lefranc. "Have you read the placards?" 

"No." Pierre Lefranc explained to them that the walls at that 

moment were covered with placards which the curious crowd 

was thronging to read, that he had glanced over one of them 

at the corner of his street, and that the blow had fallen. "The 

blow!" exclaimed Michel. "Say rather the crime." Pierre Lefranc 

added that there were three placards—one decree and two 

proclamations—all three on white paper, and pasted close 

together. The decree was printed in large letters. The 

exConstituent Laissac, who lodged, like Michel de Bourges, in 

the neighborhood (No. 4, Cité Gaillard), then came in. He 

brought the same news and announced further arrests which 

had been made during the night. There was not a minute to 

lose. They went to impart the news to Yvan, the Secretary of 

the Assembly, who had been appointed by the Left, and who 

lived in the Rue de Boursault. An immediate meeting was 

necessary. Those Republican Representatives who were still at 

liberty must be warned and brought together without delay. 

Versigny said, "I will go and find Victor Hugo." It was eight 

o'clock in the morning. I was awake and was working in bed. My 

servant entered and said, with an air of alarm,— "A 

Representative of the people is outside who wishes to speak to 

you, sir." "Who is it?" "Monsieur Versigny:" "Show him in." 

Verisign entered and told me the state of affairs. I sprang out 

of bed. He told me of the "rendezvous" at the rooms of the 

exConstituent Laissac. "Go at once and inform the other 

Representatives," said I. He left me. 

 

 

CHAPTER III. WHAT HAD HAPPENED DURING THE NIGHT 

Previous to the fatal days of June 1848, the esplanade of the 

Invalides was divided into eight huge grass plots, surrounded by 

wooden railings and enclosed between two groves of trees, 

separated by a street running perpendicularly to the front of 

the Invalides. This street was traversed by three streets running 

parallel to the Seine. There were large lawns upon which 

children were wont to play. The center of the eight grass plots 

was marred by a pedestal that under the Empire had borne 

the bronze lion of St. Mark, which had been brought from 

Venice; under the Restoration a white marble statue of Louis 

XVIII.; and under Louis Philippe a plaster bust of Lafayette. 

Owing to the Palace of the Constituent Assembly having been 

nearly seized by a crowd of insurgents on the 22d of June, 1848, 

and there being no barracks in the neighborhood, General 

Cavaignac had constructed at three hundred paces from the 

Legislative Palace, on the grass plots of the Invalides, several 

rows of long huts, under which the grass was hidden. These 

huts, where three or four thousand men could be 

accommodated, lodged the troops specially appointed to keep 

watch over the National Assembly. On the 1st December 1851, 

the two regiments hutted on the Esplanade were the 6th and 

the 42d Regiments of the Line, the 6th commanded by Colonel 

Gardeners de Boisse, who was famous before the Second of 

December, the 42d by Colonel Espinasse, who became famous 

since that date. The ordinary night guard of the Palace of the 

Assembly was composed of a battalion of Infantry and of thirty 

artillerymen, with a captain. The Minister of War, in addition, 

sent several troopers for orderly service. Two mortars and six 

pieces of cannon, with their ammunition wagons, were ranged 

in a little square courtyard situated on the right of the Cour 

d'Honneur, which was called the Cour des Canons. The 

Major, the military commandant of the Palace, was placed 

under the immediate control of the Questors. At nightfall the 

gratings and the doors were secured, sentinels were posted, 

instructions were issued to the sentries, and the Palace was 

closed like a fortress. The password was the same as in the 

Place de Paris. The special instructions were drawn up by the 

Questors prohibited the entrance of any armed force other 

than the regiment on duty. On the night of the 1st and 2d of 

December the Legislative Palace was guarded by a battalion of 

the 42d. The setting of the 1st of December, which was 

exceedingly peaceable, and had been devoted to a discussion 

on the municipal law, had finished late and was terminated by 

a Tribunal vote. At the moment when M. Baze, one of the 

Questors, ascended the Tribune to deposit his vote, a 

Representatives, belonging to what was called "Les Bancs 

Elyséens" approached him, and said in a low tone, "To-night 

you will be carried off." Such warnings as these were received 

every day, and, as we have already explained, people had 

ended by paying no heed to them. Nevertheless, immediately 

after the sitting the Questors sent for the Special Commissary 

of Police of the Assembly, President Dupin being present. When 

interrogated, the Commissary declared that the reports of his 

agents indicated "dead calm"—such was his expression—and 

that assuredly there was no danger to be apprehended for that 

night. When the Questors pressed him further, President 

Dupin, exclaiming "Bah!" left the room. On that same day, the 

1st December, about three o'clock in the afternoon, as General 

Leflô's father-in-law crossed the boulevard in front of Tortoni's, 

someone rapidly passed by him and whispered in his ear these 

significant words, "Eleven o'clock— midnight." This incident 

excited but little attention at the Questure, and several even 

laughed at it. It had become customary with them. 

Nevertheless, General Leflô would not go to bed until the hour 

mentioned had passed by, and remained in the Offices of the 

Questure until nearly one o'clock in the morning. The 

shorthand department of the Assembly was done of doors 

by four messengers attached to the Moniteur, who were 

employed to carry the copy of the shorthand writers to the 

printing office, and to bring back the proof sheets to the Palace 

of the Assembly, where M. Hippolyte Prévost corrected them. 

M. Hippolyte Prévost was chief of the stenographic staff, and in 

that capacity had apartments in the Legislative Palace. He was 

at the same time editor of the musical feuilleton of the 

Moniteur. On the 1st of December, he had gone to the Opéra 

Comique for the first representation of a new piece, and did not 

return till after midnight. The fourth messenger from the 

Moniteur was waiting for him with proof of the last slip of the 

sitting; M. Prévost corrected the proof, and the messenger was 

sent off. It was then a little after one o'clock, profound quiet 

reigned around, and, except for the guard, all in the 

Palace slept. Towards this hour of the night, a singular incident 

occurred. The Captain-Adjutant Major of the Guard of the 

Assembly came to the Major and said, "The Colonel has sent for 

me," and he added according to military etiquette, "Will you 

permit me to go?" The Commandant was astonished. "Go," he 

said with some sharpness, "but the Colonel is wrong to disturb 

an officer on duty." One of the soldiers on guard, without 

understanding the meaning of the words, heard the 

Commandant pacing up and down, and muttering several 

times, "What the deuce can he want?" Half an hour afterwards 

the Adjutant-Major returned. "Well," asked the Commandant, 

"what did the Colonel want with you?" "Nothing," answered 

the Adjutant, "he wished to give me the orders for tomorrow's 

duties." The night became further advanced. Towards four 

o'clock the Adjutant-Major came again to the Major. "Major," 

he said, "The Colonel has asked for me." "Again!" exclaimed the 

Commandant. "This is becoming strange; nevertheless, go." The 

Adjutant-Major had amongst other duties that of giving out the 

instructions to the sentries, and consequently had the power of 

rescinding them. As soon as the Adjutant Major had gone out, 

the Major, becoming uneasy, thought that it was his duty to 

communicate with the Military Commandant of the Palace. He 

went upstairs to the apartment of the Commandant—

Lieutenant Colonel Niols. Colonel Niols had gone to bed and the 

attendants had retired to their rooms in the attics. The Major, 

new to the Palace, groped about the corridors, and, knowing 

little about the various rooms, rang at a door which seemed to 

him that of the Military Commandant. Nobody answered, the 

door was not opened, and the Major returned downstairs, 

without having been able to speak to anybody. On his part the 

Adjutant-Major re-entered the Palace, but the Major did not see 

him again. The Adjutant remained near the grated door of the 

Place Bourgogne, shrouded in his cloak and walking up and 

down the courtyard as though expecting someone. At the 

instant that five o'clock sounded from the great clock of the 

dome, the soldiers who slept in the hut camp before the 

Invalides were suddenly awakened. Orders were given in a low 

voice in the huts to take up arms, in silence. Shortly afterward 

two regiments, knapsack on the back were marching upon the Palace 

of the Assembly; they were the 6th and the 42d. At this same 

stroke of five, simultaneously in all the quarters of Paris, infantry 

soldiers filed out noiselessly from every barrack, with their 

colonels at their heads. The aides-de-camp and orderly officers of 

Louis Bonaparte, who had been distributed in all the barracks, 

superintended this taking up of arms. The cavalry were not set in

motion until three-quarters of an hour after the infantry, for fear 

that the ring of the horses' hoofs on the stones should wake 

slumbering Paris too soon. M. de Persigny, who had brought 

from the Elysée to the camp of the Invalides the order to take up 

arms, marched at the head of the 42d, by the side of Colonel 

Espinasse. A story is current in the army, for at the present day, 

wearied as people are with dishonorable incidents, these 

occurrences are yet told with a species of gloomy indifference—

the story is current in that at the moment of setting out with his 

regiment one of the colonels who could be named hesitated, and 

the emissary from the Elysée, taking a sealed packet from 

his pocket, said to him, "Colonel, I admit that we are running a 

great risk. Here in this envelope, which I have been charged to 

hand to you, are a hundred thousand francs in banknotes for 

contingencies." The envelope was accepted, and the regiment 

set out. On the evening of the 2nd of December, the colonel said 

to a lady, "This morning I earned a hundred thousand francs and 

my General's epaulets." The lady showed him the door. Xavier 

Durrieu, who tells us this story, had the curiosity later on to see 

this lady. She confirmed the story. Yes, certainly! She had shut 

the door in the face of this wretch; a soldier, a traitor to his flag 

who dared visit her! She receives such a man? No! She could not 

do that, "and," states Xavier Durrieu, she added, "And yet I have 

no character to lose." Another mystery was in progress at the 

Prefecture of Police. Those belated inhabitants of the Cité who 

may have returned home at a late hour of the night might have 

noticed a large number of street cabs loitering in scattered 

groups at different points round about the Rue de Jerusalem. 

From eleven o'clock in the evening, under the pretext of the arrivals 

of refugees in Paris from Genoa and London, the Brigade of 

Surety and the eight hundred sergeants de ville had been retained 

in the Prefecture. At three o'clock in the morning a summons had 

been sent to the forty-eight Commissaries of Paris and of the 

suburbs, and also to the peace officers. An hour afterwards all of 

them arrived. They were ushered into a separate chamber, and 

isolated from each other as much as possible. At five o'clock a 

bell was sounded in the Prefect's cabinet. The Prefect Maupas 

called the Commissaries of Police one after another into his 

cabinet, revealed the plot to them, and allotted to each his 

portion of the crime. None refused; many thanked him. It was a 

question of arresting at their own homes seventy-eight 

Democrats who were influential in their districts, and dreaded by 

the Elysée as possible chieftains of barricades. It was necessary, 

a still more daring outrage, to arrest at their houses sixteen 

Representatives of the People. For this last task were chosen 

among the Commissaries of Police such as those magistrates who 

seemed the most likely to become ruffians. Amongst these were 

divided the Representatives. Each had his man. Sieur Courtille 

had Charras, Sieur Desgranges had Nadaud, Sieur Hubaut the 

elder had M. Thiers, and Sieur Hubaut the younger General 

Bedeau, General Changarnier was allotted to Lerat, and General 

Cavaignac to Colin. Sieur Dourlens took Representative Valentin, 

Sieur Benoist Representative Miot, 

Sieur Allard Representative Cholat, Sieur Barlet took Roger (Du 

Nord), General Lamoricière fell to Commissary Blanchet, 

Commissary Gronfier had Representative Greppo, and 

Commissary Boudrot Representative Lagrange. The Questors 

were similarly allotted, Monsieur Baze to the Sieur Primorin, 

and General Leflô to Sieur Bertoglio. Warrants with the name of 

the Representatives had been drawn up in the Prefect's private 

Cabinet. Blanks had been only left for the names of the 

Commissaries. These were filled in at the moment of leaving. In 

addition to the armed force which was appointed to assist them, 

it had been decided that each Commissary should be 

accompanied by two escorts, one composed of sergeants de ville, 

the other of police agents in plain clothes. As Prefect 

Maupas had told M. Bonaparte, the Captain of the Republican 

Guard, Baudinet, was associated with Commissary Lerat in the 

arrest of General Changarnier. Towards half-past five the fiacres 

who were in waiting were called up, and all started, each with 

his instructions. During this time, in another corner of 

Paris—the old Rue du Temple—in that ancient Soubise 

Mansion which had been transformed into a Royal Printing 

Office, and is today a National Printing Office, another section 

of the Crime was being organized. Towards one in the morning 

a passer-by who had reached the old Rue du Temple by the Rue 

de Vieilles-Haudriettes, noticed at the junction of these two 

streets several long and high windows brilliantly lighted up, 

These were the windows of the workrooms of the National 

Printing Office. He turned to the right and entered the old Rue 

du Temple and a moment afterward before the 

crescent-shaped entrance of the front of the printing office. 

The principal door was shut, and the sentinels guarded the side 

door. Through this little door, which was ajar, he glanced into 

the courtyard of the printing office and saw it filled with 

soldiers. The soldiers were silent, no sound could be heard, but 

the glistening of their bayonets could be seen. The passer-by 

surprised, drew nearer. One of the sentinels thrust him rudely 

back, crying out, "Be off." Like the sergeants de ville at the 

Prefecture of Police, the workmen had been retained at the 

National Printing Office under the plea of night work. At the same 

time that M. Hippolyte Prévost returned to the Legislative 

Palace, the manager of the National Printing Office re-entered 

his office, also returning from the Opéra Comique, where he 

had been to see the new piece, which was by his brother, M. de 

St. Georges. Immediately on his return the manager, to whom 

had come an order from the Elysée during the day, took up a 

pair of pocket pistols, and went down into the vestibule, which 

communicates using a few steps with the courtyard. 

Shortly afterward the door leading to the street opened, and a 

fiacre entered, a man who carried a large portfolio alighted. 

The manager went up to the man, and said to him, "Is that you, 

Monsieur de Béville?" "Yes," answered the man. The fiacre was 

put up, the horses placed in a stable, and the coachman shut up 

in a parlor, where they gave him drink, and placed a purse in his 

hand. Bottles of wine and Louis d'or form the groundwork of 

this kind of politics. The coachman drank and then went to 

sleep. The door of the parlor was bolted. The large door of the 

courtyard of the printing office was hardly shut then it 

reopened, gave passage to armed men, who entered in silence, 

and then reclosed. The arrivals were a company of the 

Gendarmerie Mobile, the fourth of the first battalion, 

commanded by a captain named La Roche d'Oisy. As may be 

remarked by the result, for all delicate expeditions the men of 

the coup d'état took care to employ the Gendarmerie Mobile 

and the Republican Guard, that it is to say the two corps almost 

entirely composed of former Municipal Guards, bearing at 

heart a revengeful remembrance of the events of February. 

Captain La Roche d'Oisy brought a letter from the Minister of 

War, which placed himself and his soldiers at the disposition of 

the manager of the National Printing Office. The muskets were 

loaded without a word being spoken. Sentinels were placed in 

the workrooms, in the corridors, at the doors, at the windows, 

in fact, everywhere, two being stationed at the door leading 

into the street. The captain asked what instructions he should 

give to the sentries. "Nothing more simple," said the man who 

had come in the fiacre. "Whoever attempts to leave or to open 

a window, shoot him." This man, who, in fact, was De Béville, 

orderly officer to M. Bonaparte, withdrew with the manager 

into the large cabinet on the first story, a solitary room which 

looked out on the garden. There he communicated to the 

manager what he had brought with him, the decree of the 

dissolution of the Assembly, the appeal to the Army, the appeal 

to the People, the decree convoking the electors, and in 

addition, the proclamation of the Prefect Maupas and his letter 

to the Commissaries of Police. The four first documents were 

entirely in the handwriting of the President, and here and there 

some erasures might be noticed. The compositors were in 

waiting. Each man was placed between two gendarmes and 

was forbidden to utter a single word, and then the documents 

which had to be printed were distributed throughout the room, 

being cut up into very small pieces, so that an entire sentence 

could not be read by one workman. The manager announced 

that he would give them an hour to compose the whole. The 

different fragments were finally brought to Colonel Béville, who 

put them together and corrected the proof sheets. The 

machining was conducted with the same precautions, each 

press being between two soldiers. Notwithstanding all possible 

diligence, the work lasted two hours. The gendarmes watched 

over the workmen. Béville watched over St. Georges. When the 

work was finished a suspicious incident occurred, which greatly 

resembled a treason within a treason. To a traitor a greater 

traitor. This species of crime is subject to such accidents. Béville 

and St. Georges, the two trusty confidants in whose hands lay 

the secret of the coup d'état, that is to say, the head of the 

President;—that secret, which ought at no price to be allowed 

to transpire before the appointed hour, under risk of causing 

everything to miscarry, took it into their heads to confide it at 

once to two hundred men, in order "to test the effect," as the 

ex-Colonel Béville said later on, rather naïvely. They read the 

mysterious document that had just been printed to the 

Gendarmes Mobiles, who were drawn up in the courtyard. 

These ex-municipal guards applauded. If they had hooted, it 

might be asked what the two experimentalists in the coup 

d'état would have done. Perhaps M. Bonaparte would have 

woken up from his dream at Vincennes. The coachman was 

then liberated, the fiacre was horsed, and at four o'clock in the 

morning the orderly officer and the manager of the National 

Printing Office, henceforward two criminals, arrived at the 

Prefecture of Police with the parcels of the decrees. Then began 

for them the brand of shame. Prefect Maupas took them by the 

hand. Bands of bill-stickers, bribed for the occasion, started in 

every direction, carrying with them the decrees and 

proclamations. This was precisely the hour at which the Palace 

of the National Assembly was invested. In the Rue de 

l'Université, there is a door of the Palace which is the old 

entrance to the Palais Bourbon, and which opens into the 

avenue that leads to the house of the President of the 

Assembly. This door, termed the Presidency door, was 

according to custom guarded by a sentry. For some time past 

the Adjutant-Major, who had been twice sent for during the 

night by Colonel Espinasse, had remained motionless and silent, 

close by the sentinel. Five minutes after, having left the huts of 

the Invalides, the 42d Regiment of the line, followed at some 

distance by the 6th Regiment, which had marched by the Rue 

de Bourgogne, emerged from the Rue de l'Université. "The 

regiment," says an eye-witness, "marched as one steps in a 

sick room." It arrived with a stealthy step before the Presidency 

door. This ambuscade came to surprise the law. The sentry, 

seeing these soldiers arrive, halted, but at the moment when he 

was going to challenge them with a qui-vive, the 

AdjutantMajor seized his arm, and, in his capacity as the officer 

empowered to countermand all instructions, ordered him to 

give free passage to the 42d, and at the same time commanded 

the amazed porter to open the door. The door turned upon its 

hinges, and the soldiers spread themselves through the avenue. 

Persigny entered and said, "It is done." The National Assembly 

was invaded. At the noise of the footsteps the Commandant 

Mennier ran up. "Commandant," Colonel Espinasse cried out to 

him, "I come to relieve your battalion." The Commandant 

turned pale for a moment, and his eyes remained fixed on the 

ground. Then suddenly he put his hands to his shoulders and 

tore off his epaulets, he drew his sword, broke it across his 

knee, threw the two fragments on the pavement, and, 

trembling with rage, exclaimed with a solemn voice, "Colonel, 

you disgrace the number of your regiment." "All right, all right," 

said Espinasse. The Presidency door was left open, but all the 

other entrances remained closed. All the guards were relieved, 

all the sentinels changed, and the battalion of the night guard 

was sent back to the camp of the Invalides, the soldiers piled 

their arms in the avenue, and in the Cour d'Honneur. The 42d, 

in profound silence, occupied the doors outside and inside, the 

courtyard, the reception rooms, the galleries, the corridors, and the 

passages, while everyone slept in the Palace. Shortly 

afterward arrived two of those little chariots which are called 

"forty sons," and two fiacres, escorted by two detachments of 

the Republican Guard and of the Chasseurs de Vincennes, and 

by several squads of police. The Commissaries Bertoglio and 

Primorin alighted from the two chariots. As these carriages 

drove up a personage, bald, but still young, was seen to appear 

at the grated door of the Place de Bourgogne. This personage 

had all the air of a man about town, who had just come from 

the opera, and, in fact, he had come from thence, after having 

passed through a den. He came from the Elysée. It was De 

Morny. For an instant, he watched the soldiers piling their arms 

and then went on to the Presidency door. There he exchanged 

a few words with M. de Persigny. A quarter of an hour 

afterward, accompanied by 250 Chasseurs de Vincennes, he 

took possession of the Ministry of the Interior, startled M. de 

Thorigny in his bed, and handed him brusquely a letter of 

thanks from Monsieur Bonaparte. Some days previously honest 

M. De Thorigny, whose ingenuous remarks we have already 

cited, said to a group of men near whom M. de Morny was 

passing, "How these men of the Mountain calumniate the 

President! The man who would break his oath, who would 

achieve a coup d'état must necessarily be a worthless wretch." 

Awakened rudely in the middle of the night, and relieved of his 

post as Minister like the sentinels of the Assembly, the worthy 

man, astounded, and rubbing his eyes, muttered, "Eh! Then the 

President is a ——." "Yes," said Morny, with a burst of laughter. 

He who writes these lines knew Morny. Morny and Walewsky 

held in the quasi-reigning family the positions, one of the Royal 

bastard, the other of Imperial bastard. Who was Morny? We 

will say, "A noted wit, an intriguer, but in no way austere, a 

friend of Romieu, and a supporter of Guizot possessing the 

manners of the world, and the habits of the roulette table, 

self-satisfied, clever, combining a certain liberality of ideas with 

a readiness to accept useful crimes, finding means to wear a 

gracious smile with bad teeth, leading a life of pleasure, 

dissipated but reserved, ugly, good-tempered, fierce, 

well-dressed, intrepid, willingly leaving a brother prisoner under 

bolts and bars, and ready to risk his head for a brother 

Emperor, having the same mother as Louis Bonaparte, and like 

Louis Bonaparte, having some father or other, being able to call 

himself Beauharnais, being able to call himself Flahaut, and yet 

calling himself Morny, pursuing literature as far as light 

comedy, and politics, as far as tragedy, a deadly free liver, 

possessing all the frivolity consistent with assassination, 

capable of being sketched by Marivaux and treated by 

Tacitus, without conscience, irreproachably elegant, infamous, 

and amiable, at need a perfect duke. Such was this malefactor." 

It was not yet six o'clock in the morning. Troops began to mass 

themselves on the Place de la Concorde, where 

LeroySaint Arnaud on horseback held a review. The 

Commissaries of Police, Bertoglio and Primorin ranged two 

companies in order under the vault of the great staircase of the 

Questure, but did not ascend that way. They were accompanied 

by agents of the police, who knew the most secret recesses of the 

Palais 

Bourbon, and who conducted them through various passages. 

General Leflô was lodged in the Pavilion inhabited in the time of 

the Duc de Bourbon by Monsieur Feuchères. That night General 

Leflô had staying with him his sister and her husband, who 

were visiting Paris, and who slept in a room, the door of which 

led into one of the corridors of the Palace. Commissary 

Bertoglio knocked at the door, opened it, and together with his 

agents abruptly burst into the room, where a woman was in 

bed. The general's brother-in-out sprang out of bed, and cried 

out to the Questor, who slept in an adjoining room, "Adolphe, 

the doors are being forced, the Palace is full of soldiers. Get 

up!" The General opened his eyes, and he saw the Commissary 

Bertoglio standing beside his bed. He sprang up. "General," said 

the Commissary, "I have come to fulfill a duty." "I understand," 

said General Leflô, "You are a traitor." The Commissary 

stammering out the words, "Plot against the safety of the 

State," displayed a warrant. The General, without pronouncing 

a word, struck this infamous paper with the back of his hand. 

Then dressing, he put on his full uniform of Constantine 

and of Médéah, thinking in his imaginative, soldier-like loyalty 

that there were still generals of Africa for the soldiers whom he 

would find on his way. All the generals now remaining were 

brigands. His wife embraced him; his son, a child of seven years, 

in his nightshirt, and in tears, said to the Commissary of Police, 

"Mercy, Monsieur Bonaparte." The General, while clasping his 

wife in his arms, whispered in her ear, "There is artillery in the 

courtyard, try and fire a cannon." The Commissary and his men 

led him away. He regarded these policemen with contempt 

and did not speak to them, but when he recognized Colonel 

Espinasse, his military, and Breton's hearts swelled with 

indignation. "Colonel Espinasse," said he, "you are a villain, and 

I hope to live long enough to tear the buttons from your 

uniform." Colonel Espinasse hung his head, and stammered, "I 

do not know you." A major waved his sword, and cried, "We 

have had enough of lawyer generals." Some soldiers crossed

their bayonets before the unarmed prisoner, three sergeants de 

ville pushed him into a fiacre, and a sub-lieutenant approached 

the carriage, and looked in the face of the man who, if he were 

a citizen, was his Representative, and if he were a soldier was

his general, flung this abominable word at him, "Canaille!" 

Meanwhile, Commissary Primorin had gone by a more 

roundabout way in order more surely to surprise the other 

Questor, M. Baze. Out of M. Baze's apartment, a door led to the 

lobby communicating with the chamber of the Assembly. Sieur 

Primorin knocked at the door. "Who is there?" asked a servant, 

who was dressing. "The Commissary of Police," replied 

Primorin. The servant, thinking that he was the Commissary of 

The police of the Assembly opened the door. At this moment M. 

Baze, who had heard the noise, and had just awakened, put on 

a dressing-gown, and cried, "Do not open the door." He had 

scarcely spoken these words when a man in plain clothes and 

three sergeants de ville in uniform rushed into his chamber. The 

man, opening his coat, displayed his scarf of office, asking M. 

Baze, "Do you recognize this?" "You are a worthless wretch," 

answered the Questor. The police agents laid their hands on M. 

Baze. "You will not take me away," he said. "You, a Commissary 

of Police, you, who is a magistrate, and know what you are 

doing, you outrage the National Assembly, you violate the law, 

you are a criminal!" A hand-to-hand struggle ensued—four 

against one. Madame Baze and her two little girls give vent to 

screams, the servant being thrust back with blows by the 

sergeants de ville. "You are ruffians," cried out Monsieur Baze. 

They carried him away by main force in their arms, still 

struggling, naked, his dressing-gown being torn to shreds, his 

body being covered with blows, his wrist torn and bleeding. The 

stairs, the landing, and the courtyard were full of soldiers with fixed 

bayonets and grounded arms. The Questor spoke to them. 

"Your Representatives are being arrested, you have not 

received your arms to break the laws!" A sergeant was wearing 

a brand new cross. "Have you been given the cross for this?" 

The sergeant answered, "We only know one master." "I note 

your number," continued M. Baze. "You are a dishonored 

regiment." The soldiers listened with a stolid air and seemed 

still asleep. Commissary Primorin said to them, "Do not answer, 

this has nothing to do with you." They led the Questor across 

the courtyard to the guardhouse at the Porte Noire. This was 

the name which was given to a little door contrived under the 

vault opposite the treasury of the Assembly, and which opened 

upon the Rue de Bourgogne, facing the Rue de Lille. Several 

sentries were placed at the door of the guard-house, and at the 

top of the flight of steps which led thither, M. Baze being left 

there in charge of three sergeants de ville. Several soldiers, 

without their weapons, and in their shirt-sleeves, came in and 

out. The Questor appealed to them in the name of military 

honor. "Do not answer," said the sergeant de ville to the 

soldiers. M. Baze's two little girls had followed him with 

terrified eyes, and when they lost sight of him the youngest 

burst into tears. "Sister," said the elder, who was seven years 

old, "let us say our prayers," and the two children, clasping 

their hands, knelt down. Commissary Primorin, with his swarm 

of agents, burst into the Questor's study and laid hands on 

everything. The first papers which he perceived on the middle 

of the table, and which he seized, were the famous decrees 

which had been prepared in the event of the Assembly having 

voted on the proposal of the Questors. All the drawers were 

opened and searched. This overhauling of M. Baze's papers, 

which the Commissary of Police termed a domiciliary visit, 

lasted more than an hour. M. Baze's clothes had been taken to 

him, and he had dressed. When the "domiciliary visit" was over, 

he was taken out of the guard-house. There was a fiacre in the 

courtyard, into which he entered, together with the three 

sergeants de ville. The vehicle, to reach the Presidency 

door, passed by the Cour d'Honneur and then by the Courde 

Canonis. The day was breaking. M. Baze looked into the courtyard 

to see if the cannon were still there. He saw the ammunition 

wagons ranged in order with their shafts raised, but the places 

of the six cannons and the two mortars were vacant. In the 

avenue of the Presidency, the fiacre stopped for a moment. Two 

lines of soldiers, standing at ease, lined the footpaths of the 

avenue. At the foot of a tree were grouped three men: Colonel 

Espinasse, whom M. Baze knew and recognized, a species of 

Lieutenant-Colonel, who wore a black and orange ribbon round 

his neck, and a Major of Lancers, all three swords in hand, 

consulting together. The windows of the fiacre were closed; M. 

Baze wished to lower them to appeal to these men; the 

sergeants de ville seized his arms. The Commissary Primorin then 

came up and was about to re-enter the little chariot for two 

persons who had brought him. "Monsieur Baze," said he, with 

that villainous kind of courtesy that the agents of the coup 

d'état willingly blended with their crime, "you must be 

uncomfortable with those three men in the fiacre. You are 

cramped; come in with me." "Let me alone," said the prisoner. 

"With these three men, I am cramped; with you, I should be 

contaminated." An escort of infantry was ranged on both sides 

of the fiacre. Colonel Espinasse called to the coachman, "Drive 

slowly by the Quai d'Orsay until you meet a cavalry escort. 

When the cavalry shall have assumed the charge, the infantry 

can come back." They set out. As the fiacre turned into the Quai 

d'Orsay a picket of the 7th Lancers arrived at full speed. It was 

the escort: the troopers surrounded the fiacre, and the whole 

galloped off. No incident occurred during the journey. Here and 

there, at the noise of the horses' hoofs, windows were opened 

and heads put forth; and the prisoner, who had at length 

succeeded in lowering a window heard startled voices saying, 

"What is the matter?" The fiacre stopped. "Where are we?" 

asked M. Baze. "At Mazas," said a sergent de ville. The Questor 

was taken to the office of the prison. Just as he entered he saw 

Baune and Nadaud are being brought out. There was a table in the 

center, at which Commissary Primorin, who had followed the 

fiacre in his chariot, had just seated himself. While the 

Commissary was writing, M. Baze noticed on the table a paper 

which was evidently a jail register, on which were these names, 

written in the following order: Lamoricière, Charras, Cavaignac, 

Changarnier, Leflô, Thiers, Bedeau, Roger (du Nord), 

Chambolle. This was probably the order in which the 

Representatives had arrived at the prison. When Sieur Primorin 

had finished writing, M. Baze said, "Now, you will be good 

enough to receive my protest, and add it to your official 

report." "It is not an official report," objected the Commissary, 

"it is simply an order for committal." "I intend to write my 

protest at once," replied M. Baze. "You will have plenty of time 

in your cell," remarked a man who stood by the table. M. Baze 

turned round. "Who are you?" "I am the governor of the 

prison," said the man. "In that case," replied M. Baze, "I pity 

you, for you are aware of the crime you are committing." The 

man turned pale and stammered a few unintelligible words. 

The Commissary rose from his seat; M. Baze briskly took 

possession of his chair, seated himself at the table, and said to 

Sieur Primorin, "You are a public officer; I request you to add 

my protest to your official report." "Very well," said the 

Commissary, "Let it be so." Baze wrote the protest as follows:— 

"I, the undersigned, Jean-Didier Baze, Representative of the 

People, and Questor of the National Assembly, carried off by 

violence from my residence in the Palace of the National 

Assembly, and conducted to this prison by an armed force 

which I couldn't resist, protest in the name of 

the National Assembly and in my own name against the outrage 

on national representation committed upon my colleagues and 

upon myself. "Given at Mazas on the 2nd December 1851, at 

eight o'clock in the morning. "BAZE." While this was taking 

place at Mazas, the soldiers were laughing and drinking in the 

courtyard of the Assembly. They made their coffee in the 

saucepans. They had lighted enormous fires in the courtyard; 

the flames, fanned by the wind, at times reached the walls of 

the Chamber. A superior official of the Questure, an officer of 

the National Guard, Ramond de la Croisette, ventured to say to 

them, "You will set the Palace on fire;" whereupon a soldier 

struck him a blow with his fist. Four of the pieces taken from 

the Cour de Canons were ranged in battery order against the 

Assembly; two on the Place de Bourgogne were pointed 

toward the grating, and two on the Pont de la Concorde were 

pointed toward the grand staircase. As a side-note to this 

instructive tale let us mention a curious fact. The 42d Regiment 

of the Line was the same which had arrested Louis Bonaparte at 

Boulogne. In 1840 this regiment lent its aid to the law against 

the conspirator. In 1851 it lent its aid to the conspirator against 

the law: such is the beauty of passive obedience. 

CHAPTER IV. OTHER DOINGS OF THE NIGHT During the same 

night in all parts of Paris acts of brigandage took place. 

Unknown men leading armed troops, and themselves armed 

with hatchets, mallets, pincers, crowbars, life preservers, 

swords were hidden under their coats, pistols, of which the butts 

could be distinguished under the folds of their cloaks, arrived in 

silence before a house occupied the street, encircling the 

approaches picked the lock of the door, tied up the porter, 

invaded the stairs, and burst through the doors upon a sleeping 

man, and when that man, awakening with a start, asked of 

these bandits, 

"Who are you?" their leader answered, "A Commissary of 

Police." So it happened to Lamoricière who was seized by 

Blanchet, who threatened him with the gag; to Greppo, who 

was brutally treated and thrown down by Gronfier, assisted by 

six men carrying a dark lantern and a pole-axe; to Cavaignac, 

who was secured by Colin, a smooth-tongued villain, who 

affected to be shocked on hearing him curse and swear; to M. 

Thiers, who was arrested by Hubaut (the elder); professed 

that he had seen him "tremble and weep," thus adding 

falsehood to crime; to Valentin, who was assailed in his bed by 

Dourlens, taken by the feet and shoulders and thrust into a 

padlocked police van; to Miot, destined to the tortures of 

African casemates; to Roger (du Nord), who with courageous 

and witty irony offered sherry to the bandits. Charras and 

Changarnier was taken unawares. They lived in the Rue St. 

Honoré, nearly opposite to each other, Changarnier at No. 3, 

Charras at No. 14. Ever since the 9th of September Changarnier 

had dismissed the fifteen men armed to the teeth by whom he 

had hitherto been guarded during the night, and on the 1st 

December, as we have said, Charras had unloaded his pistols. 

These empty pistols were lying on the table when they came to 

arrest him. The Commissary of Police threw himself upon them. 

"Idiot," said Charras to him, "if they had been loaded, you 

would have been a dead man." These pistols, we may note, had 

been given to Charras upon the taking of Mascara by General 

Renaud, who at the moment of Charras' arrest was on 

horseback in the street helping to carry out the coup d'état. If 

these pistols had remained loaded, and if General Renaud had 

had the task of arresting Charras, it would have been curious if 

Renaud's pistols had killed Renaud. Charras assuredly would 

not have hesitated. We have already mentioned the names of 

these police rascals. It is useless to repeat them. It was Courtille 

who arrested Charras, Lerat who arrested Changarnier, 

Desgranges who arrested Nadaud. The men thus seized in their 

own houses were Representatives of the people; they were 

inviolable so to the crime of the violation of their persons 

was added this high treason, the violation of the Constitution. 

There was no lack of impudence in the perpetration of these 

outrages. The police agents made merry. Some of these droll 

fellows jested. At Mazas the under-jailors jeered at Thiers, 

Nadaud reprimanded them severely. The Sieur Hubaut (the 

younger) awoke General Bedeau. "General, you are a 

prisoner."—"My person is inviolable."— "Unless you are caught 

red-handed, in the very act."—"Well," said Bedeau, "I am caught 

in the act, the heinous act of being asleep." They took him by the 

collar and dragged him to a fiacre. On meeting together at 

Mazas, Nadaud grasped the hand of Greppo, and Lagrange 

grasped the hand of Lamoricière. This made the police gentry 

laugh. A colonel, named Thirion, wearing a commander's cross 

around his neck, helped to put the Generals and the 

Representatives into jail. "Look me in the face," said Charras to 

him. Thirion moved away. Thus, without counting other arrests 

that took place later on, there were imprisoned during the 

night of the 2nd of December, sixteen Representatives and 

seventy-eight citizens. The two agents of the crime furnished a 

report of it to Louis Bonaparte. Morny wrote "Boxed up;" 

Maupas wrote "Quadded." The one in drawing-room slang, the 

other in the slang of the galleys. Subtle gradations of language. 

CHAPTER V. THE DARKNESS OF THE CRIME Versigny had just left 

me. While I dressed hastily there came in a man in whom I had 

every confidence. He was a poor cabinet-maker out of work, 

named Girard, to whom I had given shelter in a room of my 

house, a carver of wood, and not illiterate. He came in from the 

street; he was trembling. "Well," I asked, "what do the people 

say?" Girard answered me,— "People are dazed. The blow has 

been struck in such a manner that it is not realized. 

Workmen read the placards, say nothing, and go to their work. 

Only one in a hundred speaks. It is to say, 'Good!' This is how it 

appears to them. The law of the 31st May is abrogated—' Well 

done!' Universal suffrage is re-established—' Also well done!' 

The reactionary majority has been driven away—'Admirable!' 

Thiers is arrested—'Capital!' Changarnier is seized—'Bravo!' 

Round each placard there are claqueurs. Ratapoil explains his 

coup d'état to Jacques Bonhomme, Jacques Bonhomme takes it 

all in. Briefly, it is my impression that the people give their 

consent." "Let it be so," said I. "But," asked Girard of me, "what 

will you do, Monsieur Victor Hugo?" I took my scarf of office 

from a cupboard and showed it to him. He understood. We 

shook hands. As he went out Carini entered. Colonel Carini is an 

intrepid man. He had commanded the cavalry under 

Mieroslawsky in the Sicilian insurrection. He has, in a few 

moving and enthusiastic pages, told the story of that noble 

revolt. Carini is one of those Italians who love France as we 

Frenchmen love Italy. Every warm-hearted man in this century 

has two fatherlands— the Rome of yesterday and the Paris of 

today God," said Carini to me, "you are still free," and 

he added, "The blow has been struck in a formidable manner. 

The Assembly is invested. I have come from thence. The Place 

de la Révolution, the Quays, the Tuileries, and the boulevards, are 

crowded with troops. The soldiers have their knapsacks. The 

batteries are harnessed. If fighting takes place it will be 

desperate work." I answered him, "There will be fighting." And I 

added, laughing, "You have proved that the colonels write like 

poets; now it is the turn of the poets to fight like colonels." I 

entered my wife's room; she knew nothing and was quietly 

reading her paper in bed. I had taken about five hundred 

francs in gold. I put on my wife's bed a box containing nine 

hundred francs, all the money which remained to me, and I told 

her what had happened. She turned pale, and said to me, 

"What are you going to do?" "My duty." She embraced me, and 

only said two words:— "Do it." My breakfast was ready. I ate a 

cutlet in two mouthfuls. As I finished, my daughter came in. She 

was startled by how I kissed her and asked me, 

"What is the matter?" "Your mother will explain to you." And I 

left them. The Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne was as quiet and 

deserted as usual. Four workmen were, however, chatting near 

my door; they wished me "Good morning." I cried out to them, 

"You know what is going on?" "Yes," said they. "Well. It is 

treason! Louis Bonaparte is strangling the Republic. The people 

are attacked. The people must defend themselves." "They will 

defend themselves." "You promise me that?" "Yes," they 

answered. One of them added, "We swear it." They kept their 

word. Barricades were constructed in my street (Rue de la Tour 

d'Auvergne), in the Rue des Martyrs, in the Cité Rodier, in the 

Rue Coquenard, and at Notre-Dame de Lorette. 

CHAPTER VI. "PLACARDS" On leaving these brave men I could 

read at the corner of the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne and the 

Rue des Martyrs, the three infamous placards that had been 

posted on the walls of Paris during the night. Here they are. 

"PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 

"Appeal to the People. "FRENCHMEN! The present situation can 

last no longer. Every day that passes enhances the dangers of 

the country. The Assembly, which ought to be the firmest 

support of order has become a focus of conspiracies. The 

patriotism of three hundred of its members has been unable to 

check its fatal tendencies. Instead of making laws in the public 

interest it forges arms for civil war; it attacks the power that I 

hold directly from the People, it encourages all bad passions, it 

compromises the tranquillity of France; I have dissolved it, and I 

constitute the whole People a judge between it and me. "The 

Constitution, as you know, was constructed with the object of 

weakening beforehand the power that you were about to 

confide to me. Six million votes formed an emphatic protest 

against it, and yet I have faithfully respected it. Provocations, 

calumnies, and outrages, have found me unmoved. Now, however, 

that the fundamental compact is no longer respected by those 

very men who incessantly invoke it, and that the men who have 

ruined two monarchies wish to tie my hands to 

overthrow the Republic, I must frustrate their 

treacherous schemes, to maintain the Republic, and save the 

Country by appealing to the solemn judgment of the only 

Sovereign whom I recognize in France—the People. "I therefore 

make a loyal appeal to the whole nation, and I say to you: If you 

wish to continue this condition of uneasiness which degrades us 

and compromises our future, choose another in my place, for I 

will no longer retain a power which is impotent to do good, 

which renders me responsible for actions which I cannot 

prevent, and which binds me to the helm when I see the vessel 

driving towards the abyss. "If on the other hand, you still place 

confidence in me, give me the means of accomplishing the 

great mission which I hold from you. "This mission consists in 

closing the era of revolutions, by satisfying the legitimate needs 

of the People, and by protecting them from subversive 

passions. It consists, above all, of creating institutions which 

survive men, and which shall in fact form the foundations on 

which something durable may be established. "Persuaded that 

the instability of power, that the preponderance of a single 

Assembly, is the permanent cause of trouble and discord, I 

submit to your suffrage the following fundamental bases of a 

Constitution which will be developed by the Assemblies later

on:— "1. A responsible Chief was appointed for ten years. "2. 

Ministers are dependent upon the Executive Power alone. "3. A 

Council of State is composed of the most distinguished men, who 

shall prepare laws and shall support them in debate before the 

Legislative Body. "4. A Legislative Body which shall discuss and 

vote the laws, and which shall be elected by universal suffrage, 

without scrutin de liste, which falsifies the elections. "5. A 

The second Assembly was composed of the most illustrious men of the 

country, a power of equipoise the guardian of the fundamental 

compact, and of public liberties. "This system, created by 

the first Consul at the beginning of the century, has already 

given repose and prosperity to France; it would still insure them 

to her. "Such is my firm conviction. If you share it, declare it by 

your votes. If, on the contrary, you prefer a government 

without strength, Monarchical or Republican, borrowed I know 

not from what past, or from what chimerical future, answer in 

the negative. "Thus for the first time since 1804, you will vote 

with a full knowledge of the circumstances, knowing exactly for 

whom and for what. "If I do not obtain the majority of your 

suffrages I shall call together a New Assembly and shall place in 

its hands the commission which I have received from you. "But 

if you believe that the cause of which my name is the symbol,—

that is to say, France regenerated by the Revolution of '89, and 

organized by the Emperor, is to be still your own, proclaim it by 

sanctioning the powers which I ask from you. "Then France and 

Europe will be preserved from anarchy, obstacles will be 

removed, rivalries will have disappeared, for all will respect, in 

the decision of the People, the decree of Providence. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE." PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT 

OF THE REPUBLIC TO THE ARMY. "Soldiers! Be proud of your 

mission, you will save the country, for I count upon you not to 

violate the laws, but to enforce respect for the first law of the 

country, the national Sovereignty, of which I am the Legitimate 

Representative. "For a long time past, like myself, you have 

suffered from obstacles that have opposed themselves both 

to the good that I wished to do and to the demonstrations of 

your sympathies in my favor. These obstacles have been broken 

down. "The Assembly has tried to attack the authority which 

held from the whole Nation. It has ceased to exist. "I make a 

loyal appeal to the People and to the Army, and I say to them: 

Either give me the means of ensuring prosperity or choose 

another in my place. "In 1830, as in 1848, you were treated as 

vanquished men. After having branded your heroic 

disinterestedness, they disdained to consult your sympathies 

and your wishes, and yet you are the flower of the Nation. 

Today, at this solemn moment, I am resolved that the voice of 

the Army shall be heard. "Vote, therefore, freely as citizens; 

but, as soldiers do not forget that passive obedience to the 

orders of the Chief of the State is the rigorous duty of the Army, 

from the general to the private soldier. "It is for me, responsible 

for my actions both to the People and to posterity, to take 

those measures which may seem to me indispensable for the 

public welfare. "As for you, remain immovable within the rules 

of discipline and of honor. Your imposing attitude helps the 

country to manifest its will with calmness and reflection. "Be 

ready to repress every attack upon the free exercise of the 

sovereignty of the People. "Soldiers, I do not speak to you of 

the memories which my name recalls. They are engraved in 

your hearts. We are united by indissoluble ties. Your history is 

mine. There is between us, in the past, a community of glory 

and of misfortune. "There will be in the future community of 

sentiment and of resolutions for the repose and the greatness 

of France. "Given at the Palace of the Elysée, December 2, 

1851. "(Signed) L.N. BONAPARTE." "IN THE NAME OF THE 

FRENCH PEOPLE. "The President of the Republic decrees:—

"ARTICLE I. The National Assembly is dissolved. "ARTICLE II. 

Universal suffrage is re-established. The law of May 31 is 

abrogated. "ARTICLE III. The French People are convoked in 

their electoral districts from the 14th December to the 21st 

December following. "ARTICLE IV. The State of Siege is decreed 

in the district of the first Military Division. "ARTICLE V. The 

Council of State is dissolved. "ARTICLE VI. The Minister of the 

Interior is charged with the execution of this decree. "Given at 

the Palace of the Elysée, 2nd December, 1851. "LOUIS 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. "DE MORNY, Minister of the Interior." 

CHAPTER VII. NO. 70, RUE BLANCHE The Cité Gaillard is 

somewhat difficult to find. It is a deserted alley in that new 

quarter which separates the Rue des Martyrs from the Rue 

Blanche. I found it, however. As I reached No. 4, Yvan came out 

of the gateway and said, "I am here to warn you. The police 

have an eye on this house, Michel is waiting for you at No. 

70, Rue Blanche, a few steps from here." I knew No. 70, Rue 

Blanche. Manin, the celebrated President of the Venetian 

Republic lived there. It was not in his rooms, however, that the 

meeting was to take place. The porter of No. 70 told me to go 

up to the first floor. The door was opened, and a handsome, 

gray-haired woman of some forty summers, the Baroness 

Coppens, whom I recognized as having seen in society and at 

my own house, ushered me into a drawing room. Michel de 

Bourges and Alexander Rey were there, the latter an 

exConstituent, an eloquent writer, a brave man. At that time 

Alexander Rey edited the National. We shook hands. Michel 

said to me,— "Hugo, what will you do?" I answered him,—

"Everything." "That also is my opinion," said he. Numerous 

representatives arrived, and amongst others Pierre Lefranc, 

Labrousse, Théodore Bac, Noël Parfait, Arnauld (de l'Ariége), 

Demosthenes Ollivier, an ex-Constituent, and Charamaule. 

There was deep and unutterable indignation, but no useless 

words were spoken. All were imbued with that manly anger 

whence issued great resolutions. They talked. They set forth the 

situation. Each brought forward the news that he had learned. 

Théodore Bac came from Léon Faucher, who lived in the Rue 

Blanche. It was he who had awakened Léon Faucher, and had 

announced the news to him. The first words of Léon Faucher 

were, "It is an infamous deed." From the first moment 

Charamaule displayed courage which, during the four days of 

the struggle, never flagged for a single instant. Charamaule is a 

very tall man, possessed of vigorous features and convincing 

eloquence; he voted with the Left but sat with the Right. In the 

Assembly he was the neighbor of Montalembert and of 

Riancey. He sometimes had warm disputes with them, which 

we watched from afar off, and which amused us. Charamaule 

had come to the meeting at No. 70 dressed in a sort of blue 

cloth military cloak, and armed, as we found out later on. The 

situation was grave; sixteen Representatives were arrested, all the 

generals of the Assembly, and he who was more than a general, 

Charras. All the journals were suppressed, and all the printing offices 

occupied by soldiers. On the side of Bonaparte an army of 

80,000 men which could be doubled in a few hours; on our side 

nothing. The people were deceived, and moreover disarmed. The 

telegraph at their command. All the walls were covered with their 

placards, and at our disposal not a single printing case, not one 

sheet of paper. No means of raising the protest, no means of 

beginning the combat. The coup d'état was clad with mail, the 

Republic was naked; the coup d'état had a speaking trumpet, 

and the Republic wore a gag. What was to be done? The raid 

against the Republic, the Assembly, against Right, 

Law, Progress, against Civilization, was 

commanded by African generals. These heroes had just proved 

that they were cowards. They had taken their precautions well. 

Fear alone can engender so much skill. They had arrested all the 

men of war of the Assembly, and all the men of action of the 

Left, Baune, Charles Lagrange, Miot, Valentin, Nadaud, Cholat. 

Add to this that all the possible chiefs of the barricades were in 

prison. The organizers of the ambuscade had carefully left at 

liberty Jules Favre, Michel de Bourges, and myself, judging us to 

be less men of action than of the Tribune; wishing to leave the 

Left men capable of resistance, but incapable of victory, hoping 

to dishonor us if we did not fight, and to shoot us if we did 

fight. Nevertheless, no one hesitated. The deliberation began. 

Other representatives arrived every minute, Edgar Quinet, 

Doutre, Pelletier, Cassal, Bruckner, Baudin, Chauffour. The 

room was full, some were seated, and most were standing, in 

confusion, but without tumult. I was the first to speak. I said 

that the struggle ought to be begun at once. Blow for blow. 

It was my opinion that the hundred-and-fifty 

Representatives of the Left should put on their scarves of office, 

should march in procession through the streets and the 

boulevards as far as the Madeleine, and cry "Vive la 

République! Vive la Constitution!" should appear before the 

troops, and alone, calm and unarmed, should summon Might to 

obey Right. If the soldiers yielded, they should go to the 

Assembly and make an end of Louis Bonaparte. If the soldiers 

fired upon their legislators, they should disperse throughout 

Paris, crid "To Arms," and resorted to barricades. Resistance 

should be begun constitutionally, and if that failed, should be 

continued revolutionarily. There was no time to be lost. "High 

treason" said I, "should be seized red-handed, is a great 

mistake to suffer such an outrage to be accepted by the hours 

as they elapse. Each minute that passes is an accomplice and 

endorses the crime. Beware of that calamity called an 

'Accomplished fact.' To arms!" Many warmly supported this 

advice, among others Edgar Quinet, Pelletier, and Doutre. 

Michel de Bourges seriously objected. My instinct was to begin 

at once, his advice was to wait and see. According to him, there 

was danger in hastening the catastrophe. The coup d'état was 

organized, and the People were not. They had been taken 

unawares. We must not indulge in illusion. The masses could 

not stir yet. Perfect calm reigned in the faubourgs; Surprise 

existed, yes; Anger, no. The people of Paris, although so 

intelligent, did not understand. Michel added, "We are not in 

1830. Charles X., in turning out the 221, exposed himself to this 

blow, the re-election of the 221. We are not in the same 

situation. The 221 were popular. The present Assembly is not: a 

The chamber which has been insultingly dissolved is always sure to 

conquer if the People support it. Thus the People rose in 1830. 

To-daToday wait. They are dupes until they shall be victims." 

Michel de Bourges concluded, "The People must be given time 

to understand, to grow angry, to rise. As for us, representatives, 

we should be rash to precipitate the situation. If we were to 

march immediately straight upon the troops, we should only be 

shot to no purpose, and the glorious insurrection for Right 

would thus be beforehand deprived of its natural leaders—the 

Representatives of the People. We should decapitate the 

popular army. Temporary delay, on the contrary, would be 

beneficial. Too much zeal must be guarded against, selfrestraint 

is necessary, to give way would be to lose the battle before 

having begun it. Thus, for example, we must not attend the 

meeting announced by the Right for noon, all those who went 

there would be arrested. We must remain free, we must 

remain in readiness, we must remain calm, and must act 

waiting for the advent of the People. Four days of this agitation 

without fighting would weary the army." Michel, however, 

advised a beginning, but simply by placarding Article 68 of the 

Constitution. But where should a printer be found? Michel de 

Bourges spoke with an experience of revolutionary procedure 

which was wanting in me. For many years past he had acquired 

a certain practical knowledge of the masses. His council was 

wise. It must be added that all the information which came to 

us seconded him, and appeared conclusive against me. Paris 

was dejected. The army of the coup d'état invaded her 

peaceably. Even the placards were not torn down. Nearly all the 

Representatives present, even the most daring, agreed with 

Michel's counsel, to wait and see what would happen. "At 

night," said they, "the agitation will begin," and they concluded, 

like Michel de Bourges, that the people must be given time to 

understand. There would be a risk of being alone in too hasty a 

beginning. We should not carry the people with us in the first 

moment. Let us leave the indignation to increase little by little 

in their hearts. If it were begun prematurely our manifestation 

would miscarry. These were the sentiments of all. Myself, 

while listening to them, I felt shaken. Perhaps they were right. 

It would be a mistake to give the signal for the combat in vain. 

What good is the lightning which is not followed by the 

thunderbolt? To raise a voice, to give vent to a cry, to find a 

printer, there was the first question. But was there still a free 

Press? The brave old ex-chief of the 6th Legion, Colonel 

Forestier came in. He took Michel de Bourges and myself aside. 

"Listen," said he to us. "I come to you. I have been dismissed. I 

no longer command my legion but appoint me in the name of 

the Left, Colonel of the 6th. Sign me an order and I will go at 

once and call them to arms. In an hour the regiment will be on 

foot." "Colonel," answered I, "I will do more than sign an order, 

I will accompany you." And I turned towards Charamaule, who 

had a carriage in waiting. "Come with us," said I. Forestier was 

sure of two majors of the 6th. We decided to drive to them at 

once, while Michel and the other Representatives should await 

us at Bonvalet's, in the Boulevard du Temple, near the Café 

Turc. There they could consult together. We started. We 

traversed Paris, where people were already beginning to swarm 

in a threatening manner. The boulevards were thronged with 

an uneasy crowd. People walked to and fro, passers-by 

accosted each other without any previous acquaintance, a 

noteworthy sign of public anxiety; and groups talked in loud 

voices at the corners of the streets. The shops were being shut. 

"Come, this looks better," cried Charamaule. He had been 

wandering about the town since the morning, and he had 

noticed with sadness the apathy of the masses. We found the 

two majors at home upon whom Colonel Forestier counted. 

They were two rich linendrapers, who received us with some 

embarrassment. The shopmen had gathered together at the 

windows and watched us pass by. It was mere curiosity. In the 

meanwhile one of the two majors countermanded a journey 

which he was going to undertake on that day, and promised us 

his co-operation. "But," added he, "do not deceive yourselves, 

one can foresee that we shall be cut to pieces. Few men will 

march out." Colonel Forestier said to us, "Watrin, the present 

colonel of the 6th, does not care for fighting; perhaps he will 

resign me the command amicably. I will go and find him alone, 

to startle him the less, and will join you at Bonvalet's." 

Near the Porte St. Martin, we left our carriage, and Charamaule 

and I proceeded along the boulevard on foot, to 

observe the groups more closely, and more easily to judge the 

aspect of the crowd. The recent leveling of the road had 

converted the boulevard of the Porte St. Martin into a deep 

cutting, commanded by two embankments. On the summits of 

these embankments were the footways, furnished with railings. 

The carriages drove along the cutting, and the foot passengers 

walked along the footways. Just as we reached the boulevard, a 

long column of infantry filed into this ravine with drummers at 

their heads. The thick waves of bayonets filled the square of St. 

Martin, and lost themselves in the depths of the Boulevard 

Bonne Nouvelle. An enormous and compact crowd covered the 

two pavements of the Boulevard St. Martin. Large numbers of 

workmen, in their blouses, were there, leaning upon the 

railings. At the moment when the head of the column entered 

the defile before the Theatre of the Porte St. Martin a 

tremendous shout of "Vive la République!" came forth from 

every mouth as though shouted by one man. The soldiers 

continued to advance in silence, but it might have been said 

that their pace slackened, and many of them regarded the 

crowd with an air of indecision. What did this cry of "Vive la 

République!" mean? Was it a token of applause? Was it a shout 

of defiance? It seemed to me at that moment that the Republic 

raised its brow, and that the coup d'état hung its head. 

Meanwhile, Charamaule said to me, "You are recognized." In 

fact, near the Château d'Eau, the crowd surrounded me. Some 

young men cried out, "Vive Victor Hugo!" One of them asked 

me, "Citizen Victor Hugo, what ought we to do?" I answered, 

"Tear down the seditious placards of the coup d'état, and cry 

'Vive la Constitution!'" "And suppose they fire on us?" said a 

young workman. "You will hasten to arms." "Bravo!" shouted 

the crowd. I added, "Louis Bonaparte is a rebel, he has steeped 

himself to-datodayvery crime. We, Representatives of the 

People, declare him an outlaw, but there is no need for our 

declaration since he is an outlaw by the mere fact of his 

treason. Citizens, you have two hands; take in one your Right, 

and in the other, your gun and fall upon Bonaparte." "Bravo! 

Bravo!" again shouted the people. A tradesman who was 

shutting up his shop said to me, "Don't speak so loud, if they 

heard you talking like that, they would shoot you." "Well, then," 

I replied, "You would parade my body, and my death would be 

a boon if the justice of God could result from it." All shouted 

"Long live Victor Hugo!" "Shout 'Long live the Constitution,'" 

said I. A great cry of "Vive la Constitution! Vive la République;" 

came forth from every breast. Enthusiasm, indignation, and anger 

flashed in the faces of all. I thought then, and I still think, that 

this, perhaps, was the supreme moment. I was tempted to 

carry off all that crowd and to begin the battle. Charamaule 

restrained me. He whispered to me,— "You will bring about a 

useless fusillade. EveryEveryonenarmed. The infantry is only two 

paces from us, and see, here comes the artillery." I looked 

round; in truth, several pieces of cannon emerged at a quick trot 

from the Rue de Bondy, behind the Château d'Eau. The advice 

to abstain, given by Charamaule, made a deep impression on 

me. Coming from such a man, and one so dauntless, it was 

certainly not to be distrusted. Besides, I felt bound by 

the deliberation that had just taken place at the meeting in 

the Rue Blanche. I shrank before the responsibility that I 

should have incurred. To have taken advantage of such a 

moment might have been a victory, it might also have been a 

massacre. Was I right? Was I wrong? The crowd thickened 

around us, and it became difficult to go forward. We were 

anxious, however, to reach the rendezvous 

at Bonvalet's. Suddenly someone had me on the arm. It 

was Léopold Duras, of the National. "Go no further," he 

whispered, "the Restaurant Bonvalet is surrounded. Michel de 

Bourges attempted to harangue the People, but the 

soldiers came up. He barely succeeded in making his escape. 

Numerous Representatives who came to the meeting have 

been arrested. Retrace your steps. We are returning to the old 

rendezvous in the Rue Blanche. I have been looking for you to 

tell you this." A cab was passing; Charamaule hailed the driver. 

We jumped in, followed by the crowd, shouting, "Vive la 

République! Vive Victor Hugo!" It appears that just at that 

moment a squadron of sergeants de ville arrived on the 

Boulevard to arrest me. The coachman drove off at full speed. A 

quarter of an hour afterward we reached the Rue Blanche. 

CHAPTER VIII. "VIOLATION OF THE CHAMBER" At seven o'clock 

in the morning the Pont de la Concorde was still free. The large 

grated gate of the Palace of the Assembly was closed; through 

the bars might be seen the flight of steps, that flight of steps 

whence the Republic had been proclaimed on the 4th May, 

1848, covered with soldiers; and their piled arms might be 

distinguished upon the platform behind those high columns, 

which, during the time of the Constituent Assembly, after the 

15th of May and the 23rd of June masked small mountain mortars, 

loaded and pointed. A porter with a red collar, wearing the 

livery of the Assembly, stood by the little door of the grated 

gate. From time to time Representatives arrived. The porter 

said, "Gentlemen, are you Representatives?" and opened the 

door. Sometimes he asked their names. M. Dupin's quarters 

could be entered without hindrance. In the great gallery, in the 

dining room salon d'honneur of the Presidency, liveried 

attendants silently opened the doors as usual. Before daylight, 

immediately after the arrest of the Questors MM. Baze and 

Leflô, M. de Panat, the only Questor who remained free, having 

been spared or disdained as a Legitimist, awoke M. Dupin and 

begged him to summon immediately the Representatives from 

their own homes. M. Dupin returned this unprecedented 

answer, "I do not see any urgency." Almost at the same time as 

M. Panat, the Representative Jerôme Bonaparte had hastened 

thither. He had summoned M. Dupin to place himself at the 

head of the Assembly. M. Dupin had answered, "I cannot, I am 

guarded." Jerôme Bonaparte burst out laughing. In fact, no one 

had designed lace a sentinel at M. Dupin's door; they knew 

that it was guarded by his meanness. It was only later on, 

towards noon, that they took pity on him. They felt that the 

contempt was too great, and allotted him two sentinels. At halfpast seven, fifteen or twenty Representatives, among whom 

were MM. Eugène Sue, Joret, de Rességuier, and de Talhouet, 

met together in M. Dupin's room. They also had vainly argued 

with M. Dupin. In the recess of a window a clever member of 

the Majority, M. Desmousseaux de Givré, who was a little deaf 

and exceedingly exasperated, almost quarreled with a 

Representative of the Right like himself whom he wrongly 

supposed to be favorable to the coup d'état. M. Dupin, apart 

from the group of Representatives, alone dressed in black, his 

hands behind his back, his head sunk on his breast, walked up 

and down before the fire fireplace a large fire was burning. 

In his own room, and in his very presence, they were talking 

loudly about himself, yet he seemed not to hear. 

Two members of the Left came in, Benoît (du Rhône), and 

Crestin. Crestin entered the room and went straight up to M. 

Dupin, and said to him, "President, you know what is going on? 

How is it that the Assembly has not yet been convened?" M. 

Dupin halted, and answered, with a shrug that was habitual 

with him,— "There is nothing to be done." And he resumed his 

walk. "It is enough," said M. de Rességuier. "It is too much," 

said Eugène Sue. All the Representatives left the room. In the 

meantime, the Pont de la Concorde became covered with 

troops. Among them General Vast-Vimeux, lean, old, and little; 

his lank white hair plastered over his temples, in full uniform, 

with his laced hat on his head. He was laden with two huge 

epaulets and displayed his scarf, not that of a Representative, 

but of a general, which scarf, being too long, trailed on the 

ground. He crossed the bridge on foot, shouting to the soldiers 

inarticulate cries of enthusiasm for the Empire and the coup 

d'état. Such figures as these were seen in 1814. Only instead of 

wearing a large tri-colored, cockade, they wore a large white 

cockade. In the main the same phenomenon; old men crying, 

"Long live the Past!" Almost at the same moment M. de 

Larochejaquelein crossed the Place de la Concorde, surrounded 

by a hundred men in blouses, who followed him in silence, and 

with an air of curiosity. Numerous regiments of cavalry were 

drawn up in the grand avenue of the Champs Elysées. At eight 

o'clock a formidable force invested the Legislative Palace. All 

the approaches were guarded, and all the doors were shut. Some 

Representatives nevertheless succeeded in penetrating into the 

interior of the Palace, not, as has been wrongly stated, by the 

passage of the President's house on the side of the Esplanade 

of the Invalides, but by the little door of the Rue de Bourgogne, 

called the Black Door. This door, by what omission or what 

connivance I do not know, remained open till noon on the 2d 

December. The Rue de Bourgogne was nevertheless full of

troops. Squads of soldiers scattered here and there in the Rue 

de l'Université allowed passers-by, who were few and far 

between, to use it as a thoroughfare. The Representatives who 

entered by the door in Rue de Bourgogne penetrated as far as 

the Salle des Conférences, where they met their colleagues 

coming out from M. Dupin. A numerous group of men, 

representing every shade of opinion in the Assembly, was 

speedily assembled in this hall, amongst whom were MM. 

Eugène Sue, Richardet, Fayolle, Joret, Marc Dufraisse, Benoît 

(du Rhône), Canet, Gambon, d'Adelsward, Créqu, Répellin, 

Teillard-Latérisse, Rantion, General Leydet, Paulin Durrieu, 

Chanay, Brilliez, Collas (de la Gironde), Monet, Gaston, Favreau, 

and Albert de Rességuier. Each new-comer accosted M. de 

Panat. "Where are the vice-Presidents?" "In prison." "And the 

two other Questors?" "Also in prison. And I beg you to believe, 

gentlemen," added M. de Panat, "that I have had nothing to do 

with the insult which has been offered me, in not arresting me." 

Indignation was at its height; every political shade was blended 

in the same sentiment of contempt and anger, and M. de 

Rességuier was no less energetic than Eugène Sue. For the first 

time, the Assembly seemed only to have one heart and one 

voice. Each at length said what he thought of the man of the 

Elysée and it was then seen that for a long time past Louis 

Bonaparte had imperceptibly created a profound unanimity in 

the Assembly—the unanimity of contempt. M. Collas (of the 

Gironde) gesticulated and told his story. He came from the 

Ministry of the Interior. He had seen M. de Morny, he had 

spoken to him; and he, M. Collas, was incensed beyond 

measure at M. Bonaparte's crime. Since then, that Crime has 

made him a Councillor of State. M. de Panat went hither and 

thither among the groups, announcing to the Representatives 

that he had convened the Assembly for one o'clock. But it was 

impossible to wait until that hour. Time pressed. At the Palais 

Bourbon, as in the Rue Blanche, it was the universal feeling that 

each hour that passed by helped to accomplish the coup 

d'état. Everyone felt as a reproach the weight of his silence or 

of his inaction; the circle of iron was closing in, the tide of 

soldiers rose unceasingly, and silently invaded the Palace; at 

each instant, a sentinel the more was found at a door, which a 

moment before had been free. Still, the group of 

Representatives assembled together in the Salle des 

Conférences were as yet respected. It was necessary to act, to 

speak, to deliberate, to struggle, and not to lose a minute. 

Gambon said, "Let us try Dupin once more; he is our official 

man, we need him." They went to look for him. They 

could not find him. He was no longer there, he had 

disappeared, he was away, hidden, crouching, cowering, 

concealed, he had vanished, and he was buried. Where? No one 

knew. The cowardice has unknown holes. Suddenly a man entered 

the hall. A man who was a stranger to the Assembly, in uniform, 

wearing the epaulet of a superior officer and a sword by his 

side. He was a major of the 42d, who came to summon the 

Representatives to quit their own House. All, Royalists and 

Republicans alike, rushed upon him. Such was the expression of 

an indignant eye-witness. General Leydet addressed him in 

language such as leaving an impression on the cheek rather than 

on the ear. "I do my duty, I fulfill my instructions," stammered 

the officer. "You are an idiot, if you think you are doing your 

duty," cried Leydet to him, "and you are a scoundrel if you 

know that you are committing a crime. Your name? What do 

you call yourself? Give me your name." The officer refused to 

give his name, and replied, "So, gentlemen, you will not 

withdraw?" "No." "I shall go and obtain force." "Do so." He left 

the room, and in actual fact went to obtain orders from the 

Ministry of the Interior. The Representatives waited in that kind 

of indescribable agitation which might be called the Strangling 

of Rights by Violence. In a short time, one of them who had gone 

out came back hastily and warned them that two companies of 

the Gendarmerie Mobile were coming with their guns in their 

hands. Marc Dufraisse cried out, "Let the outrage be thorough. 

Let the coup d'état find us on our seats. Let us go to the Salle 

des Séances," he added. "Since things have come to such a 

pass, let us afford the genuine and living spectacle of an 18th 

Brumaire." They all repaired to the Hall of Assembly. The 

passage was free. The Salle Casimir-Périer was not yet occupied 

by the soldiers. They numbered about sixty. Several were 

girded with their scarves of office. They entered the Hall 

meditatively. There, M. de Rességuier, undoubtedly with a good 

purpose, and to form a more compact group, urged 

that they should all install themselves on the Right side. "No," 

said Marc Dufraisse, "everyone to his bench." They scattered 

themselves about the Hall, each in his usual place. M. 

Monet, who sat on one of the lower benches of the Left Centre, 

held in his hand a copy of the Constitution. Several minutes 

elapsed. No one spoke. It was the silence of expectation that 

precedes decisive deeds and final crises, and during which everyone seems respectful to listen to the last instructions of his 

conscience. Suddenly the soldiers of the Gendarmerie Mobile, 

headed by a captain with his sword drawn, appeared on the 

threshold. The Hall of Assembly was violated. The 

Representatives rose from their seats simultaneously, shouting 

"Vive la République!" The Representative Monet alone 

remained standing, and in a loud and indignant voice, which 

resounded through the empty hall like a trumpet, ordered the 

soldiers to halt. The soldiers halted, looking at the 

Representatives with a bewildered air. The soldiers as yet only 

blocked up the lobby of the Left and had not passed beyond 

the Tribune. Then Representative Monet read the Articles 

36, 37, and 68 of the Constitution. Articles 36 and 37 

established the inviolability of the Representatives. Article 68 

deposed the President in the event of treason. That moment 

was a solemn one. The soldiers listened in silence. The Articles 

having been read, Representative d'Adelsward, who sat on the 

first lower bench of the Left, and who was nearest to the 

soldiers, turned towards them and said,— "Soldiers, you see 

that the President of the Republic is a traitor, and would make 

traitors of you. You violate the sacred precinct of rational 

Representation. In the name of the Constitution, in the name of 

the Law, we order you to withdraw." While Adelsward was 

speaking, the major commanding the Gendarmerie Mobile had 

entered. "Gentlemen," said he, "I have orders to request you to 

retire, and, if you do not withdraw of your own accord, to expel 

you." "Orders to expel us!" exclaimed Adelsward; and all the 

Representatives added, "Whose orders; Let us see the orders. 

Who signed the orders?" The major drew forth a paper and 

unfolded it. Scarcely had he unfolded it than he attempted to 

replace it in his pocket, but General Leydet threw himself upon 

him and seized his arm. Several Representatives leaned forward, 

and read the order for the expulsion of the Assembly, signed 

"Fortoul, Minister of the Marine." Marc Dufraisse turned 

towards the Gendarmes Mobiles and cried out to them,—

"Soldiers, your very presence here is an act of treason. Leave 

the Hall!" The soldiers seemed undecided. Suddenly a second 

column emerged from the door on the right, and at a signal 

from the commander, the captain shouted,— "Forward! Turn 

them all out!" Then began an indescribable hand-to-hand fight 

between the gendarmes and the legislators. The soldiers, with 

their guns in their hands, invaded the benches of the Senate. 

Repellin, Chaney, and Rantion were forcibly torn from their seats. 

Two gendarmes rushed upon Marc Dufraisse, two upon 

Gambon. A long struggle took place on the first bench of the 

Right, the same place where MM. Odilon Barrot and Abbatucci 

were in the habit of sitting. Paulin Durrieu resisted violence by 

force, it needed three men to drag him from his bench. Monet 

was thrown down upon the benches of the Commissaries. They 

seized Adelsward by the throat and thrust him outside the Hall. 

Richardet, a feeble man, was thrown down and brutally 

treated. Some were pricked with the points of the bayonets; 

nearly all had their clothes torn. The commander shouted to 

the soldiers, "Rake them out." It was thus that sixty 

Representatives of the People were taken by the collar by the 

coup d'état, and driven from their seats. How 

the deed was executed completed the treason. The physical 

performance was worthy of the moral performance. The three 

last to come out were Fayolle, Teillard-Latérisse, and Paulin 

Durrieu. They were allowed to pass by the great door of the 

Palace, and they found themselves in the Place Bourgogne. The 

Place Bourgogne was occupied by the 42d Regiment of the Line, 

under the orders of Colonel Garderens. Between the Palace and 

the statue of the Republic, which occupied the center of the 

square, a piece of artillery was pointed at the Assembly 

opposite the great door. By the side of the cannon some 

Chasseurs de Vincennes were loading their guns and biting their 

cartridges. Colonel Garderens was on horseback near a group of 

soldiers, which attracted the attention of the 

Representatives Teillard-Latérisse, Fayolle, and Paulin Durrieu. 

In the middle of this group three men, who had been arrested, 

were struggling crying, "Long live the Constitution! Vive la 

République!" Fayolle, Paulin Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse 

approached, and recognized in the three prisoners three 

members of the majority, Representatives Toupet-des-Vignes 

Radoubt, Lafosse, and Arbey. Representative Arbey was warmly 

protesting. As he raised his voice, Colonel Garderens cut him 

short with these words, which are worthy of preservation,—

"Hold your tongue! One word more, and I will have you 

thrashed with the butt-end of a musket." The three 

Representatives of the Left indignantly called on the Colonel to 

release their colleagues. "Colonel," said Fayolle, "You break the 

law threefold." "I will break it sixfold," answered the Colonel, 

and he arrested Fayolle, Durrieu, and Teillard-Latérisse. The 

soldiers were ordered to conduct them to the guard house of 

the Palace then being built for the Minister of Foreign Affairs. 

On the way the six prisoners, marching between a double file of 

bayonets, met three of their colleagues Representative Eugène 

Sue, Chanay, and Benoist (du Rhône). Eugène Sue placed 

himself before the officer who commanded the detachment, 

and said to him,— "We summon you to set our colleagues at 

liberty." "I cannot do so," answered the officer. "In that case 

complete your crimes," said Eugène Sue, "We summon you to 

arrest us also." The officer arrested them. They were taken to 

the guard-house of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, and, later 

on, to the barracks of the Quai d'Orsay. It was not till night that 

two companies of the line came to transfer them to this 

ultimate redirecting place placing them between his soldiers 

the commanding officer bowed down to the ground, politely 

remarking, "Gentlemen, my men's guns are loaded." The 

clearance of the hall was carried out, as we have said, in a 

disorderly fashion, the soldiers pushing the Representatives 

before them through all the outlets. Some, and amongst the 

number those of whom we have just spoken, went by the 

Rue de Bourgogne, others were dragged through the Salle des 

Pas Perdus towards the grated door opposite the Pont de la 

Concorde. The Salle des Pas Perdus has an ante-chamber, a sort 

of crossway room, upon which opened the staircase of the High 

Tribune, and several doors, amongst others the great glass door 

of the gallery which leads to the apartments of the President of 

the Assembly. As soon as they had reached this crossway room 

which adjoins the little rotunda, where the side door of exit to 

the Palace is situated, the soldiers set the Representatives free. 

There, in a few moments, a group was formed, in which the 

Representatives Canet and Favreau began to speak. One 

universal cry was raised, "Let us search for Dupin, let us drag 

him here if it is necessary." They opened the glass door and 

rushed into the gallery. This time M. Dupin was at home. M. 

Dupin, having learned that the gendarmes had cleared out the 

Hall had come out of his hiding place Assembly being 

thrown prostrate, Dupin stood erect. The law being made 

prisoner, this man felt himself set free. The group of 

Representatives, led by MM. Canet and Favreau found him in 

his study. There a dialogue ensued. The Representatives 

summoned the President to put himself at their head, and to 

re-enter the Hall, he, the man of the Assembly, with them, the 

men of the Nation. M. Dupin refused point-blank, maintained 

his ground, was very firm, and clung bravely to his nonentity. 

"What do you want me to do?" said he, mingling with his 

alarmed protests many law maxims and Latin quotations, an 

instinct of chattering jays, who pour forth all their vocabulary 

when they are frightened. "What do you want me to do? Who 

am I? What can I do? I am nothing. No one is any longer 

anything. Ubi nihil, nihil. Might be there. Where there is Might 

the people lose their Rights. Novus nascitur ordo. Shape your 

course accordingly. I am obliged to submit. Dura lex, sed lex. A 

law of necessity we admit, but not a law of right. But what is to 

be done? I ask to be let alone. I can do nothing. I do what I can. 

I do not want in good goodwill to have a corporal and four men, I 

would have them killed." "This man only recognizes force," said 

the Representatives. "Very well, let us employ force." They 

used violence towards him, they girded him with a scarf like a 

cord round his neck, and, as they had said, they dragged him 

towards the Hall, begging for his "liberty," moaning, kicking—I 

would say wrestling, if the word were not too exalted. Some 

minutes after the clearance, this Salle des Pas Perdus, which 

had just witnessed Representatives pass by in the clutch of 

gendarmes saw M. Dupin in the clutch of the Representatives. 

They did not get far. Soldiers barred the great green 

folding doors. Colonel Espinasse hurried thither, the 

commander of the gendarmerie came up. The butt-ends of a 

pair of pistols were seen peeping out of the commander's 

pocket. The colonel was pale, the commander was pale, M. 

Dupin was livid. Both sides were afraid. M. Dupin was afraid of 

the colonel; the colonel assuredly was not afraid of M. Dupin, 

but behind this laughable and miserable figure he saw a terrible 

phantom rise up—his crime, and he trembled. In Homer, there 

is a scene where Nemesis appears behind Thersites. M. Dupin 

remained for some moments stupefied, bewildered, and 

speechless. The 

Representative Gambon exclaimed to him,— "Now then, speak, 

M. Dupin, the Left does not interrupt you." Then, with the 

words of the Representatives at his back, and the bayonets of 

the soldiers at his breast, the unhappy man spoke. What his 

mouth uttered at this moment, what the President of the 

Sovereign Assembly of France stammered to the gendarmes at 

this intensely critical moment, no one could gather. Those who 

heard the last gasps of this moribund cowardice hastened to 

purify their ears. It appears, however, that he stuttered forth 

something like this:— "You are Might, you have bayonets; I 

invoke Right, and I leave you. I have the honor to wish you a good 

day." He went away. They let him go. At the moment of leaving, 

he turned around and heard a few more words. We will not 

gather them up. History has no rag-pickers basket. 

CHAPTER IX. AN END WORSE THAN DEATH We should have 

been glad to have put aside, never to have spoken of him again, 

this man who had borne for three years this most honorable 

title, President of the National Assembly of France, and who 

had only known how to be lacquey to the majority. He 

contrived in his last hour to sink even lower than could have 

been believed possible even for him. His career in the Assembly 

had been that of a valet, his end was that of a scullion. The 

unprecedented attitude that M. Dupin assumed before the 

gendarmes when uttering with a grimace his mockery of a 

protest, even engendered suspicion. Gambion exclaimed, "He 

resists like an accomplice. He knew all." We believe these 

suspicions to be unjust. M. Dupin knew nothing. Who indeed 

amongst the organizers of the coup d'état would have taken 

the trouble to make sure of his joining them? Corrupt M. 

Dupin? Was it possible? and, further, to what purpose? To pay 

him? Why? It would be money wasted when fear alone was 

enough. Some connivances are secured before they are sought 

for. Cowardice is the old fawner upon felony. The blood of the 

law is quickly wiped up. Behind the assassin who holds the 

poniard comes the trembling wretch who holds the sponge. 

Dupin took refuge in his study. They followed him. "My God!" 

he cried, "Can't understand that I want to be left in peace." 

In truth, they had tortured him ever since the morning, to extract from him an impossible scrap of courage. "You treat 

me worse than the gendarmes," said he. The Representatives 

installed themselves in his study, seated themselves at his 

table, and, while he groaned and scolded in an arm-chair, they 

drew up a formal report of what had just taken place, as they 

wished to leave an official record of the outrage in the archives. 

When the official report was ended Representative Canet read 

it to the President and offered him a pen. "What do you want 

me to do with this?" he asked. "You are the President," 

answered Canet. "This is our last sitting. You must sign 

the official report." This man refused. 

 

CHAPTER X. THE BLACK DOOR M. Dupin is a matchless disgrace. 

Later on, he had his reward. It appears that he became some 

sort of an Attorney-General at the Court of Appeal. M. Dupin 

renders to Louis Bonaparte the service of being in his place the 

meanest of men. To continue this dismal history. The 

Representatives of the Right, in their first bewilderment caused 

by the coup d'état, hastened in large numbers to M. Daru, who 

was Vice-President of the Assembly, and at the same time one 

of the Presidents of the Pyramid Club. This Association had 

always supported the policy of the Elysée, but without believing 

that a coup d'état was premeditated. M. Daru lived at No. 75, 

Rue de Lille. Towards ten o'clock in the morning, about a 

hundred of these Representatives had assembled at M. Daru's 

home. They resolved to attempt to penetrate into the Hall 

where the Assembly held its sittings. The Rue de Lille opens out 

into the Rue de Bourgogne, almost opposite the little door by 

which the Palace is entered, and which is called the Black Door. 

They turned their steps towards this door, with M. Daru at their 

head. They marched arm in arm and three abreast. Some of 

them had put on their scarves of office. They took them off 

later on. The Black Door, half-open as usual, was only guarded 

by two sentries. Some of the most indignant, and amongst 

them M. de Kerdrel, rushed towards this door and tried to pass. 

The door, however, was violently shut, and there ensued 

between the Representatives and the sergeants de ville who 

hastened up, a species of struggle, in which a Representative 

had his wrist sprained. At the same time a battalion that was 

drawn up on the Place de Bourgogne moved on, and came at 

the double towards the group of Representatives. M. Daru, 

stately and firm, signed to the commander to stop; the 

battalion halted, and M. Daru, in the name of the Constitution, 

and in his capacity as Vice-President of the Assembly, 

summoned the soldiers to lay down their arms, and give free 

passage to the Representatives of the Sovereign People. The 

commaCommanderhe battalion replied with an order to clear the 

the street immediately, declaring that there was no longer an 

Assembly; that as for himself, he did not know what the 

Representatives of the People were, and that if those persons 

before him did not retire of their own accord, he would drive 

them back by force. "We will only yield to violence," said M. 

Daru. "You commit high treason," added M. de Kerdrel. The 

officer gave the order to charge. The soldiers advanced in close 

order. There was a moment of confusion; almost a collision. The 

Representatives, forcibly driven back, ebbed into the Rue de Lille. 

Some of them fell down. Several members of the Right were 

rolled in the mud by the soldiers. One of them, M. Etienne, 

received a blow on the shoulder from the butt-end of a musket. 

We may here add that a week afterwards M. Etienne was a 

member of that concern which they styled the Consultative 

Committee. He found the coup d'état to his taste, the blow with 

the butt end of a musket included. They went back to M. Daru's 

house, and on the way, the scattered group reunited and was 

even strengthened by some newcomers. "Gentlemen," said M. 

Daru, "The president has failed us, the Hall is closed against us. I 

am the Vice-President; my house is the Palace of the Assembly." 

He opened a large room, and there the Representatives of the 

Right installed themselves. At first, the discussions were 

somewhat noisy. M. Daru, however, observed that the moments 

were precious, and silence was restored. The first measure to be 

taken was evidently the deposition of the President of the 

Republic by Article 68 of the Constitution. Some 

Representatives of the party which was called Burgraves sat 

round a table and prepared the deed of deposition. As they were 

about to read it aloud a Representative who came in from out of 

doors appeared at the door of the room, and announced to the 

Assembly that the Rue de Lille was becoming filled with troops 

and that the house was being surrounded. There was not a 

moment to lose. M. Benoist-d'Azy said, "Gentlemen, let us go to 

the Mairie of the tenth arrondissement; there we shall be able 

to deliberate under the protection of the tenth legion, of which 

our colleague, General Lauriston, is the colonel." M. Daru's house 

had a back entrance by a little door which was at the bottom of 

the garden. Most of the Representatives went out that way. M. 

Daru was about to follow them. Only himself, M. Odilon Barrot, 

and two or three others remained in the room when the door 

opened. A captain entered, and said to M. Daru,— "Sir, you are 

my prisoner." "Where am I to follow you?" asked M. Daru. "I have 

orders to watch over you in your own house." The house, in 

truth, was militarily occupied, and it was thus that M. Daru was 

prevented from taking part in the sitting at the Mairie of the 

tenth arrondissement. The officer allowed M. Odilon Barrot to 

go out. 

 

 

CHAPTER XI. THE HIGH COURT OF JUSTICE While all this was 

taking place on the left bank of the river, towards noon a man 

was noticed walking up and down the great Salles des Pas 

Perdus of the Palace of Justice. This man carefully buttoned up 

in an overcoat, appeared to be attended at a distance by 

several possible supporters—for certain police enterprises 

employ assistants whose dubious appearance renders the 

passers-by uneasy, so much so that they wonder whether they 

are magistrates or thieves. The man in the buttoned-up 

overcoat loitered from door to door, from lobby to lobby, 

exchanging signs of intelligence with the myrmidons who 

followed him; then came back to the great, stopping on the 

way the barristers, solicitors, ushers, clerks, and attendants, 

and repeating to all in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the 

passers-by, the same question. To this question, some answered 

"Yes," others replied "No." And the man set to work again, 

prowling about the Palace of Justice with the appearance of a 

bloodhound seeking the trail. He was a Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police. What was he looking for? The High Court of 

Justice. What was the High Court of Justice doing? It was hiding. 

Why? To sit in Judgment? Yes and no. The Commissary of the 

Arsenal Police had that morning received from the Prefect 

Maupas the order to search everywhere for the place where 

the High Court of Justice might be sitting if perchance it 

thought it its duty to meet. Confusing the High Court with the 

Council of State, the Commissary of Police had first gone to the 

Quai d'Orsay. Having found nothing, not even the Council of 

State, he had come away empty-handed, at all events had 

turned his steps towards the Palace of Justice, thinking that as 

he had to search for justice he would perhaps find it there. Not 

finding it, he went away. The High Court, however, had 

nevertheless met together. Where, and how? We shall see. At 

the period whose annals we are now chronicling, before the 

present reconstruction of the old buildings of Paris, when the 

Palace of Justice was reached by the Cour de Harlay, a staircase 

the reverse of majestic led thither by turning out into a long 

corridor called the Gallerie Mercière. Towards the middle of 

this corridor, there were two doors; one on the right, which led 

to the Court of Appeal, and the other on the left, which led to the 

Court of Cassation. The fold folding door she left opened upon 

an old gallery called St. Louis, recently restored, and which 

serves at the present time for a Salle des Pas Perdus to the 

barristers of the Court of Cassation. A wooden statue of St. 

Louis stood opposite the entrance door. An entrance contrived 

in a niche to the right of this statue led into a winding lobby 

ending in a sort of blind passage, which apparently was closed 

by two double doors. On the door to the right might be read 

"First President's Room;" on the door to the left, "Council 

Chamber." Between these two doors, for the convenience of 

the barristers going from the Hall to the Civil Chamber, which 

formerly the Great Chamber of Parliament had been 

formed a narrow and dark passage, in which, as one of them 

remarked, "Everywhere could be committed with impunity." 

Leaving on one side the First President's Room and opening the 

door which bore the inscription "Council Chamber," a large 

room was crossed, furnished with a huge horsehorseshoee, 

surrounded by green chairs. At the end of this room, which in 

1793 had served as a deliberating hall for the juries of the 

Revolutionary Tribunal, there was a door placed in the 

wainscoting, which led into a little lobby where there were two doors, 

on the right, the door of the room appertaining to the President 

of the Criminal Chamber, on the left the door of the 

Refreshment Room. "Sentenced to death!—Now let us go and 

dine!" These two ideas, Death and Dinner, have jostled against 

each other for centuries. A third door closed the extremity of 

this lobby. This door was, so to speak, the last of the Palace of 

Justice, the farthest off, the least known, the most hidden; it 

opened into what was called the Library of the Court of 

Cassation, a large square room lighted by two windows 

overlooking the great inner yard of the Concièrgerie, furnished 

with a few leather chairs, a large table covered with green 

cloth, and with law books lining the walls from the floor to the 

ceiling. This room, as may be seen, is the most secluded, and the 

best hidden of any in the Palace. It was here,—in this room, 

that there arrived successively on the 2d December, towards 

eleven o'clock in the morning, numerous men dressed in black, 

without robes, without badges of office, affrighted, bewildered, 

shaking their heads, and whispering together. These trembling 

men were the High Court of Justice. The High Court of Justice, 

according to the terms of the Constitution, was composed of 

seven magistrates; a President, four Judges, and two Assistants, 

chosen by the Court of Cassation from among its own members 

and renewed every year. In December 1851, these seven 

judges were named Hardouin, Pataille, Moreau, Delapalme, 

Cauchy, Grandet, and Quesnault, the two last-named being 

Assistants. These men, almost unknown, had nevertheless 

some antecedents. M. Cauchy, a few years previously President 

of the Chamber of the Royal Court of Paris, an amiable man and 

easily frightened, was the brother of the mathematician, 

member of the Institute, to whom we owe the computation of 

waves of sound, and of the ex-Registrar Archivist of the 

Chamber of Peers. M. Delapalme had been Advocate-General, 

and had taken a prominent part in the Press trials under the 

Restoration; M. Bataille had been Deputy of the Centre under 

the Monarchy of July; M. Moreau (de la Seine) was noteworthy, 

inasmuch he had been nicknamed "de la Seine" to distinguish 

him from M. Moreau (de la Meurthe), who on his side was 

noteworthy, since he had been nicknamed "de la 

Meurthe" to distinguish him from M. Moreau (de la Seine). The 

first Assistant, M. Grandet, had been President of the Chamber 

at Paris. I have read this panegyric of him: "He is known to 

possess no individuality or opinion of his own whatsoever." The 

second Assistant, M. Quesnault, a Liberal, a Deputy, a Public 

Functionary, Advocate General, a Conservative, learned, 

obedient, had attained by making a stepping-stone of each of 

these attributes, to the Criminal Chamber of the Court of 

Cassation, where he was known as one of the most severe 

members. 1848 had used his notion of Rights,   

and resigned after the 24th of February; he did not resign after the 

2d December. M. Hardouin, who presided over the High Court, 

was an ex-Prex-presidentssizes, a religious man, a rigid 

Jansenist, noted amongst his colleagues as a "scrupulous 

magistrate," living in Port Royal, a diligent reader of Nicolle, 

belonging to the race of the old Parliamentarians of the Marais, 

who used to go to the Palais de Justice mounted on a mule; the 

mule had now gone out of fashion, and whoever visited 

President Hardouin would have found no more obstinacy in his 

stable than in his conscience. On the morning of the 2d 

December, at nine o'clock, two men mounted the stairs of M. 

Hardouin's house, No. 10, Rue de Condé, and met together at 

his door. One was M. Pataille; the other, one of the most 

prominent members of the bar of the Court of Cassation, was 

the ex-Constituent Martin (of Strasbourg). M. Bataille had just 

placed himself at M. Hardouin's disposal. Martin's first thought, 

while reading the placards of the coup d'état, had been for the 

High Court. M. Hardouin ushered M. Pataille into a room 

adjoining his study and received Martin (of Strasbourg) as a 

man to whom he did not wish to speak before witnesses. Being 

formally requested by Martin (of Strasbourg) to convene the 

High Court, he begged that he would leave him alone, declared 

that the High Court would "do its duty," but that first he must 

"confer with his colleagues," concluding with this expression, 

"It shall be done to-datodayo-morrow." "To-daTodayo-morrow!" 

exclaimed Martin (of Strasbourg); "Mr. President, the safety of 

the Republic, the safety of the country, perhaps, depends on 

what the High Court will or will not do. Your responsibility is 

great; bear that in mind. The High Court of Justice does not do 

its duty today; it does it at once, at the moment, 

without losing a minute, without an instant's hesitation." 

Martin (of Strasbourg) was right, Justice always belongs to 

Today. Martin (of Strasbourg) added, "If you want a man for 

active work, I am at your service." M. Hardouin declined the 

offer; declared that he would not lose a moment, and begged 

Martin (of Strasbourg) to leave him to "confer" with his 

colleague, M. Pataille. In fact, he called together the High Court 

for eleven o'clock, and it was settled that the meeting should 

take place in the Hall of the Library. The Judges were punctual. 

At a quarter past eleven, they were all assembled. M. Pataille 

arrived the last. 

They sat at the end of the great green table. agues," concluding with this expression, 

"It shall be done to-datodayo-morrow." "To-daTodayo-morrow!" 

exclaimed Martin (of Strasbourg); "Mr. President, the safety of 

the Republic, the safety of the country, perhaps, depends on 

what the High Court will or will not do. Your responsibility is 

great; bear that in mind. The High Court of Justice does not do 

its duty today; it does it at once, at the moment, 

without losing a minute, without an instant's hesitation." 

Martin (of Strasbourg) was right, Justice always belongs to 

Today. Martin (of Strasbourg) added, "If you want a man for 

active work, I am at your service." M. Hardouin declined the 

offer; declared that he would not lose a moment, and begged 

Martin (of Strasbourg) to leave him to "confer" with his 

colleague, M. Pataille. In fact, he called together the High Court 

for eleven o'clock, and it was settled that the meeting should 

take place in the Hall of the Library. The Judges were punctual. 

At a quarter past eleven, they were all assembled. M. Pataille 

arrived the last. 

They sat at the end of the great green table.