The Idler in France

by Countess of Marguerite Blessington

I had ascended nearly to the top of the barricade at the entrance to the Rue Verte when a head and shoulders rose from the opposite side so suddenly as to alarm me not a little. My trepidation was infinitely increased when I discovered that the individual to whom the said head and shoulders appertained, was in a state of extreme intoxication, and when with rolling eyes, flushed checks, and thick articulation he addressed me with a familiarity, yet good nature, that I would most willingly have dispensed with.

"Give me your hand, ma belle, fear nothing, I am one of the bons enfans of the revolution, take my arm and no one will molest you. We, les braves des braves, wage no war against women; au contraire, we love the pretty creatures. Here take my hand, and I will assist you over the barricades."

Suiting his action to the word, he extended his hand towards me, and reaching forward lost his equilibrium and rolled over; at which moment, the proprietor of a wine shop at the corner of the Rue Verte came to my assistance, and leading me through his house, opened a door on the other side of the barricade, through which I hastily passed, he civilly offering to open the same door when I returned if I would knock at it. And here, en passant, let me render justice to the politeness I have invariably experienced from all classes of men, and on all occasions, in France—a politeness so general that I should be ungrateful if I did not record it.

When I passed the barrack in the Rue Verte, it was in the possession of the people, who had seized it by the right of conquest an hour or two previously. Proud of the achievement, they were looking out of the windows, shouting, singing the Marseillaise, embracing each other, and proclaiming that they were les bons enfans, etc. They paid me many homely compliments as I passed, but not a single indelicate allusion escaped their lips; and I hurried on, not meeting a human being until I entered the courtyard of Madame C——'s hotel, into which I found considerable difficulty to penetrate, owing to the extreme caution of her Swiss porter who seemed to think it very dangerous to open even the little door to admit me.

I found dear, good Madame C—— depressed and agitated. I rejoiced to find that she was ignorant of the scene that took place between her grand-daughter and the populace, for a knowledge of it would have served to increase her alarm. She was surrounded by the usual circle of habitués who endeavoured in vain to calm her fears, but my presence re-assured her a little, and Count Valeski, who came in soon after, succeeded in mitigating her terror. Having witnessed the horrors of the former revolution, it is no wonder she should tremble at the thoughts of another, and she looks on my calmness and courage as little short of heroism.

I remained a couple of hours with her, and having resisted all her persuasions to induce me to stay all night, I left the Rue d'Anjou, and had reached the Rue Verte, when I heard the report of guns, and saw a party of soldiers attacking the barracks, out of the windows of which the people, who had taken forcible possession of it some hours before, were firing on their assailants. I retraced my steps as hastily as possible, fear lending swiftness to my feet, and returned to the Rue de Matignon by the Faubourg du Roule and the Rue St.-Honoré. Our trusty porter, having heard the shots, and knowing they proceeded from the quartier through which my route lay, was much alarmed for my safety, and evinced great pleasure when he saw me safe again within the portal under his charge, while I congratulated myself on having once more proved my friendship to my dear old friend, by a personal exertion entailing no more disagreeable consequences than a temporary alarm.

—— and —— have just been here: they say that it is reported that a negotiation has been opened between the king and the provisional government, and that even still a reconciliation may be effected. I do not believe it, though I wish it were true. The blood that has flowed during the last days has, I fear, created an impassable gulf between the sovereign and the people. Each party has made discoveries fatal to the good understanding necessary to subsist between both: one having proved his want of power to carry his wishes into effect, and the other having but too well evinced its power of resistance.

While the negotiations are pending, the royal cause becomes every hour more hopeless. Success has rendered the people less tractable; and the concession implied by the king's holding out terms to them, has less chance of producing a favourable result.

The populace attempted to force an entrance into the Hôtel des Pages, and, having fired through the iron gate, killed a fine youth, the son of General Jacquinot, one of the royal pages, and a protégé of the Duc de Guiche. It was of this general that the Emperor Napoleon said—"Celui-là est brave tous les jours, en mon absence comme sous mes yeux." It is not more than ten days ago, since I met the mother and sister of this promising youth with him at the Duchesse de Guiche's. They came to return thanks to her and the duc for the generous protection they had afforded to him; they were elate with joy at his promotion, looked forward to his further advancement, and now—. My heart bleeds for the poor mother who doted on her son!

Count Alfred d'Orsay, having heard that he had no relations in Paris at this moment, has gone to arrange for the interment of this poor youth, who yet scarcely more than a child, has lost his life at but a short distance from the threshold of that door where he had been so often received with kindness. How glad I am that the duchesse was spared the horror of being so near the scene of this murder, and that she and her children are safe from the reach of personal violence!