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always the smaller details that we read with the least pleasure, or with the least advantage. Our readers will see that many of the slightest occurrences are indicative of the higher and more remote springs of action.
On Sunday, the 25th of July, M. Mazas dined at St. Cloud. After dinner, M. de Damas, the governor of the Duke of Bordeaux, said, 'You need not return till Thursday.' This was an unusual interval. Did M. de Damas foresee that circumstances calculated to interrupt the studies of his pupil might occur? Before M. Mazas retired, he followed the young Prince into his private apartments, where he observed, placed on a chair, a very rich frame containing a very indifferent drawing : while he was examining with some surprise the contrast between the frame and the work, the little Duke approached him and said, with a gravity very unusual with him, ''Tis all I have left me of him.' Of whom?' • Of my father,' he replied, in a very low whisper, and ran immediately away. It turned out that this was a drawing made by the Duke de Berri when he was only twelve years old, which had been lately found in an old trunk and presented to his son. When we recollect how soon the poor child was to be bereft of all that he should have inherited from his father, this little anecdote is interesting.
Next day, Monday the 26th, appeared the Ordonnances, but they seemed to produce little or no effect on the capital; indeed, says M. de Mazas, it was the fair of La Villette, one of the villages in the neighbourhood of Paris, which the lower orders of the great city are most fond of frequenting; and with the Parisian populace pleasure supersedes even politics. M. Mazas expected no riot, and if there had been any such disposition, he had no doubt that the ministers had 50,000 men in the neighbourhood to repress it :' we now know that they had not 5000, the garrison being rather smaller than usual.
On Tuesday morning, the 27th, M. Mazas visited the Palais Royal, and was reading the papers, when, about ten o'clock, some noise was heard, and a group was formed, in the midst of which a young man got up on a chair and read, with a loud voice and the gesticulations of a madman, the protest of the journalists against the Ordonnances. The gendarmes soon appeared, and with some difficulty dispersed the crowd. While this was going on, Mazas observed a little old man, all in black, who, looking at the orator, said, “ Just so it began in 1789!' Mazas says, that since the events have so wofully justified that prediction, the visage of the little black old man often presents itself to his memory. At the time, however, he felt no uneasiness-he went about his usual business, (he was librarian at the Arsenal,) and in the evening was about to
pay some visits, when at six o'clock he fell in with a party of gendarmes who were retreating before a mob--the shops were suddenly shut—the lamps were extensively broken. There was firing on the right or north bank of the Seine—which, indeed, was the chief scene of this revolt, as it had been of the worse scenes of the old revolution. The left bank is more thinly peopled, and seems to have been generally more peaceably disposed.
On Wednesday the 28th, Mazas, through skirmishes, and during a heavy cannonade, made his way to the residence of M. Hennequin, the celebrated advocate. He found him surrounded by his terrified family, and in a state of great excitement. What can be done?' asked M. Hennequin. Since yesterday I have been inquiring where the friends of the government should rendezvous-in vain: we are ready to die for the king, but there is no one to direct us: there seems to have been no preparation—no one knows what to do, and we are left to exhaust ourselves in idle and impotent regret.' This, says M. Mazas, is the best reply to the epigrammatic question which was so much in vogue after the Three Days, ~Pray, can you tell me where were the royalists on the 27th, 28th, and 29th July ? Here we must differ from M. Mazas. M. Hennequin's complaint would be, we think, a very imperfect reply to this famous and very silly question. If there had been no king—no army—no ministers—no constituted authorities, the individual friends of the monarchy and of good order might, and would probably, have felt it a duty to array themselves to repress an insurrection; but where there is a government, or the semblance of a government, the well-disposed trust to it for defending itself and them-individuals, undisciplined, unarmed, unauthorized, have neither the right nor the duty of intervening between the public force and the rioters. Who doubts that, in the great London riots, or more recently in the Bristol case, the innumerable majority of the citizens looked at the mob with abhorrence ? and would the triumph of the bandful of ruffians on these occasions have justified any one's supposing that the great body of the inhabitants of London or Bristol partook of their insanity and countenanced their outrages ? This is a very serious, and may again become a very important consideration; and we fear that as it hitherto has been, so it will hereafter always be, found that public order in times of sedition can only be maintained or restored by the public force—by the vigour of the magistrates and the decision of the government. If there be not a sufficient public force at hand, the loyal and well-disposed may, if they have been previously organized, be called out to check the insurgents; but without some previous concert and discipline, the collection of such a body, however well disposed they might be, would probably only com
plicate plicate the confusion and increase the disaster. But neither in the case of Paris in 1830, nor of London in 1780, nor Bristol in 1831, was there any need of the officious interference of the loyal citizens—there was, in all these cases, a sufficient public force, if it had been directed by men of common sense and firmness, to have restored order in the first instance. It was only the supine. ness, the cowardice, or the treachery, of those who had the direction of the police and the troops that in all these instances were the true causes of the disasters.
On quitting M. Hennequin, M. Mazas fell in with an English, man, who, with our characteristic disposition of meddling in other people's business, was in a state of the most joyous excitement, and astonished the French by his enthusiastic encouragement of the revolt. The first shot in this fatal contest was fired by an Englishman who lodged in the Rue St. Honoré, and here, in a different part of the town, we find another of our countrymen foremost in the sedition. We notice this with regret and shame, as being, we fear, a national characteristic. M. Mazas mentions it on account of a more curious circumstance: this Englishman announced that the republic had been already proclaimed, with La Fayette as president,'-he announced this as early as mid-day of Wednesday the 28th, when there had appeared no other indication of such extreme proceedings,
M. Mazas, with a supererogation of loyalty, determined to proceed to St. Cloud; but he figured to himself the difficulty he should have in getting there, concluding that no doubt all the avenues of the royal residence would have been guarded, and that the bridges and other important posts between it and Paris would be occupied by the king's troops. No such thing: he sees two gendarmes on the bridge of Grenelle—an aide-de-camp of Marmont's, with a small escort, near Auteuil ; and on the bridge of St. Cloud itself—which he had fancied he was to find strongly fortified-an officer and a few men, who seemed to be rather on the look-out for news than occupying a post of importance. He reaches St. Cloud-he finds the centinels as usual, neither more nor less, and all the etiquettes of the palace in their usual sleepy train; except, indeed, that the court-yard always so full of equipages, and the corridors always so full of courtiers, were now quite deserted, He proceeds to look for his pupil and his governor, the Baron de Danas. They were in a part of the park called the Trocadero, where a kind of military playground had been formed for the young prince. He and his sister were playing with the children of M. and Madame de Damas, in their presence and that of a few other persons: the ladies and gentlemen were in great anxiety, but in utter ignorance of what was passing. At this moment
General Crossard arrived: he came, as M. Duhamel, a deputy, and his son had previously done, to offer his services-he gave a most alarming account of the state of Paris. • Marmont, he said, had committed an unpardonable blunder in concentrating his troops in the streets of Paris—the moment one finds resistance in a city, the only course is to get out of the streets, and not risk one's men in a war of crockery-ware and brickbats.' He offered, if they would lend him a uniform, to return to Paris, with orders to the marshal to evacuate the interior streets, and concentrate his army round the Tuileries—there to wait the reinforcements which would soon arrive from all quarters. At this moment the sentinel on the higher part of the ground cried out To arms !' as if the enemy were there. "M. de Damas snatched up the young duke in his arms, like a feather, and conveyed him to the Château, leaving his wife and his own children to the care of Mazas.
It was, however, a false alarm-the Parisians no more thought of attacking St. Cloud than the king or his officers thought of defending it. Night came on : Mazas offered to stay with M. de Damas, who gratefully accepted the offer, and immediately employed him in bringing up the arrears of his correspondence, which had not been looked at for the last twenty-four hours. Indeed Mazas seems to have been-like the Duke of Bordeaux himself-a god-send, and he became a kind of factotum in this deserted court.
But we are surprised to find that they could give this faithful and useful servant no better accommodation, after his anxieties and fatigues, than a common chair (un pliant), in which he slept a few hours, in a shooting-jacket, which he had worn as a kind of disguise to enable him to reach the Château.
In the morning of Thursday they saw by a telescope the tricoloured flag on Notre Dame. It afterwards disappeared, but was hoisted again about noon. All they knew in the king's palace of the state of Paris was what they could see with a telescope! M. de Damas now took the young prince to pay his daily visit to his grandfather, but he previously directed Mazas-whom he had employed in the early part of the morning in arranging and burning papers, and, in short, preparing for a retreat—to proceed as far as he could towards Paris, for information of the state of affairs. Mazas undertook his new office with alacrity, and did not meet one soldier ; but as he approached the barrier of Paris he found the insurgents were more alert than the troops, and had occupied all the passes : he had nothing to do but come back with the melancholy account that no troops were to be seen, and that the people of the villages were beginning to feel the infection of the city. He reached St.
Cloud, Cloud, where he found the immediate guard of the palace not larger than usual ; the soldiers were playing at ninepins, and within five hundred yards of them the tricoloured flag was flying in Sèvres. There was not even a gun to defend any approach of the château : there was a large depot of artillery at Vincennes, within a mile of Paris, but it never, it seems, had been thought of, till now—and now, as Vincennes was on the other side of Paris, it might as well have been at Moscow. But the youth of the military academy at St. Cyr, near Versailles, had a few small pieces for school practice: these boys—and this seems the only symptom of activity given in the whole affair-marched with their tiny guns to the defence of St. Cloud; and these little better than toy cannon, dragged by boys, were the only artillery that the King of France had to protect his house and person from insult in this crisis of his fate. The spirit of these glorious boys was wound up to a pitch of honour and devotion quite out of character with the pusillanimity and confusion which they found at St. Cloud; and they were actually locked up in one of the courts of the palace, to prevent their sallying out on the insurgents. "I saw them,' says Mazas, ‘hanging to the iron rails that confined them, and crying with the utmost enthusiasm Vive le Roi !
Soon after appeared the Marquis de Dreux Brézé, who has since distinguished himself in the house of peers, and General Vincent. They remonstrated with M. de Damas that there were no measures of defence taken, that there was no one invested with any command or authority. General Vincent offered to go alone, to endeavour to quiet Versailles, which had now joined the revolt: he went, and failed. Exposed to great personal danger, his courage and energy awed and at last propitiated the mob; they permitted him to return.
The news now became worse and worse. The Duke of OrJeans was mentioned—with surprise that he had not come to place himself by the side of the king! It was openly said that his person should be secured; and an officer, whose name Mazas discreetly omits, was designated as the fit person for such an errand. But this was only a bravado of the ante-chamber—the king had neither the power nor the will, nor indeed any motive, to arrest the Duke of Orleans. His royal highness certainly had fears (as we shall show by and by from his own statement) for his personal liberty at this crisis, and hid hmself in a kind of gardenhouse in his park, but we really believe he was much more afraid of his friends, the mob, than of Charles X. Like Claudius, he was dragged from a hiding-place to the throne. Nor can we much blame him for having thus retreated from both parties : to have joined the king would have been to adopt bis ministers