My Memoirs, Vol. V, 1831 to 1832

by Alexandre Dumas

Whilst we were upon the subject of great priests, of apostles and gods, of the Abbé Châtel, and of him who was Caillaux and the Mapah, we meant to approach cursorily the history of Saint-Simon and of his two disciples Enfantin and Bayard; but we begin to fear that our readers have had enough of this modern Olympus; we therefore hasten to return to politics, which were going from bad to worse, and to literature, which was growing better and better. Let us, however, assure our readers they have lost nothing by the delay: a little further on they will meet with the god again at his office of the Mont-de-Piété, and the apostles in their retreat of Mérilmontant.

But first let us return to our artillerymen; then, by way of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois and the archbishop's palace, we will reach Antony. As will be realised, our misdeeds of the months of November and December had roused the attention of those in authority; warrants had been issued, and nineteen citizens, mostly belonging to the artillery, had been arrested. These were Trélat, Godefroy Cavaignac, Guinard, Sambuc, Francfort, Audry, Penard, Rouhier, Chaparre, Guilley, Chauvin, Peschieux d'Herbinville, Lebastard, Alexandre Garnier, Charles Garnier, Danton, Lenoble, Pointis and Gourdin. They had been in all the riots of the reign of Louis-Philippe, as also in those of the end of the Consulate and the beginning of the Empire: no matter what party had stirred up the rising, it was always the Republicans who were dropped upon. And this because every reactionary government, in succession for the past seventy years, thoroughly understood that Republicans were its only serious, actual and unceasing enemies. The preference King Louis-Philippe showed us, at the risk of being accused of partiality, strongly encouraged the other parties and, notably, the Carlist party. Royalists from within and Royalist from without seemed to send one another this famous programme of 1792: "Make a stir and we will come in! Come in, and we will make a stir!" It was the Royalists inside who were the first to make a stir and upon the following occasion: The idea had stayed in the minds of various persons that King Louis-Philippe had only accepted his power to give it at some time to Henri V. Now, that which, in particular, lent colour to the idea that Louis-Philippe was inclined to play the part of monk, was the report that the only ambassador the Emperor Nicholas would accept was this very M. de Mortemart, to whom the Duc d'Orléans had handed, on 31 July, this famous letter of which I have given a copy; and, as M. de Mortemart had just started for St. Petersburg with the rank of ambassador, there was no further doubt, at least, in the eyes of the Royalists that the king of the barricades was ready to hand over the crown to Henri V. This rumour was less absurd, it must be granted, than that which was spread abroad from 1799 to 1803, namely, that Bonaparte had caused 18 Brumaire for the benefit of Louis XVIII. Each of the two sovereigns replied with arguments characteristic of themselves. Bonaparte had the Duc d'Enghien arrested, tried and shot. Louis-Philippe allowed the pillage of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois and of the archbishop's palace. An opportunity was to be given to the Carlists and priests, their natural allies, to test the situation which eight months of Philippist reign and three of Republican prosecutions had wrought among them. They were nearing 14 February, the anniversary of the assassination of the Duc de Berry. Already in the provinces there had been small Legitimist attempts. At Rodez, the tree of liberty was torn down during the night; at Collioure, they had hoisted the white flag; at Nîmes, les Verdets seemed to have come to life again, and, like the phantoms that return from the other world to smite their enemies, they had, it was reported, beaten the National Guard, who had been discovered, almost overwhelmed and unable to give any but a very vague description of their destroyers. That was the situation on 12 February. The triple emanation of the Republican, Carlist and Napoléonic phases went through the atmosphere like a sudden gust of storm, bearing on its wings the harsh cries of some unbridled, frenzied carnival, when, all at once, people learnt that, in a couple of days' time, an anniversary service was to be celebrated at Saint-Roch, in expiation of the assassination at the Place Louvois. A political assassination is such a detestable thing in the opinion of all factions, that it ought always to be allowable to offer expiatory masses for the assassinated; but there are times of feverish excitement when the most simple actions assume the huge proportions of a threat or contempt, and this particular mass, on account of the peculiar circumstances at the time, was both a threat and an act of defiance. But they were deceived as to the place where it was to be held. Saint-Roch, as far as I can recollect, was, at that period, served by the Abbé Olivier, a fine, spiritual-minded priest, adored by his flock, who are scarcely consoled at the present day by seeing him made Bishop of Évreux. I knew the Abbé Olivier; he was fond of me and I hope he still likes me; I reverenced him and shall always reverence him. I mention this, in passing, to give him news of one of his penitents, in the extremely improbable case of these Memoirs ever falling into his hands. Moreover, I shall have to refer to him later, more than once. He was deeply devoted to the queen; more than anyone else he could appreciate the benevolence, piety and even humility of that worthy princess: for he was her confessor. I do not know whether it was on account of the royal intimacy with which the Abbé Olivier was honoured, or because he understood the significance of the act that was expected of him, that the Church of Saint-Roch declined the honour. It was different with the curé of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. He accepted. This appealed to him as a twofold duty: the curé of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois was nearly eighty years of age, and he was the priest who had accompanied Marie-Antoinette to the scaffold. His curate, M. Paravey, by a strange coincidence, was the priest who had blessed the tombs of the Louvre.

In consequence of the change which had been made in the programme, men, placed on the steps of the Church of Saint-Roch, distributed, on the morning of the 14th, notices announcing that the funeral ceremony had been arranged to take place at Saint-Roch and not at Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.

I was at the Vaudeville, where I believe we were rehearsing La Famille improvisée by Henry Monnier—I have already spoken of, and shall often again refer to, this old friend of mine, an eminent artiste, witty comrade and good fellow! as the English say—when Pachel the head hired-applauder ran in terrified, crying out that emblazoned equipages were forming in line at Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois; and people were saying in the crowd that the personages who were getting out from them had come to be present at a requiem service for the repose of the soul of the Duc de Berry. This news produced an absolutely contrary effect upon Arago and myself: it exasperated Arago, but put me very much at ease.

I have related how I was educated by a priest, and by an excellent one too; now that early education, the influence of those juvenile memories, gave—I will not say to all my actions—God forbid I should represent myself to my readers as a habitually religious-minded man!—but to all my beliefs and opinions—such a deep religious tinge that I cannot even now enter a church without taking holy water, or pass in front of a crucifix without making the sign of the cross. Therefore, in spite of the violence of my political opinions at that time, I thought that the poor assassinated Duc de Berry had a right to a requiem mass, that the Royalists had a right to be present at it and the curé the right to celebrate it. But this was not Étienne's way of looking at it. Perhaps he was right. Consequently, he wrote a few lines to the National and to the Temps and ran to the spot. I followed him in a much more tranquil manner. I could see that something serious would come of it; that the Royalist journals would exclaim against the sacrilege, and that the accusation would fall upon the Republican party. Arago, with his convinced opinions, his southern fieriness of temperament, entered the church just as a young man was hanging a portrait of the Duc de Bordeaux on the catafalque. Here was where Arago began to be in the right and I to be in the wrong. Behind the young man there came a lady, who placed a crown of immortelles upon it; behind the woman came soldiers, who hung their crosses to the effigy of Henri VI. by the aid of pins. Now, Arago was wholly in the right and I totally wrong. For the ceremony here ceased to be a religious demonstration and became a political act of provocation. The people and citizens rushed into the church. The citizens became incensed, and the people grumbled. But let us keep exactly to the events which followed. The riot at the archbishop's palace was middle class, not lower class. The men who raised it were the same as those who had caused the Raucourt and Philippe riots under the Restoration; the subscriptors of Voltaire-Touquet, the buyers of snuff-boxes à la Charte. Arago perceived the moment was the right one and that the irritation and grumbling could be turned to account. There was no organisation in the nature of conspiracy at that time; but the Republican party was on the watch and ready to turn any contingencies to account. We shall see the truth of this illustrated in connection with the burial of Lamarque. Arago sprang out of the church, climbed up on a horizontal bar of the railings and, stretching out his hands in the direction of the graves of July, which lay in front of the portal of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, shouted—"Citizens! They dare to celebrate a requiem service in honour of one of the members of the family whom we have just driven from power, only fifty yards from the victims of July! Shall we allow them to finish the service?"

Maddened cries went up. "No! no! no!" from every voice; and they rushed into the church. The assailants encountered General Jacqueminot in the doorway, who was then chief of the staff or second in command of the National Guard (I do not know further particulars, and the matter is not important enough for me to inquire into). He tried to stem the torrent, but it was too strong to be stopped by a single man. The general realised this, and tried to stay it by a word. Now, a word, if it is the right one, and courageous or sympathetic, is the safest wall that can be put across the path of that fifth element which we call "The People."

"My friends," cried the general, "listen to me and take in who I am—I was at Rambouillet: therefore, I belong to your party."

"You were at Rambouillet?" a voice questioned.

"Yes."

"Well, you would have done better to stay in Paris, and to leave the combatants of July where they were: their absence would not then have been taken advantage of to set up a king!"