The History of a Crime

Chapter 2

THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE COMMITTEE

As soon as it was daylight we had assembled in the house of our

imprisoned colleague, M. Grvy. We had been installed in his private

room. Michel de Bourges and myself were seated near the fireplace; Jules

Favre and Carnot were writing, the one at a table near the window, the

other at a high desk. The Left had invested us with discretionary

powers. It became more and more impossible at every moment to meet

together again in session. We drew up in its name and remitted to

Hingray, so that he might print it immediately, the following decree,

compiled on the spur of the moment by Jules Favre:--

Landrin came in. His duties in Paris in 1848 had enabled him to know the

whole body of the political and municipal police. He warned us that he

had seen suspicious figures roving about the neighborhood. We were in the

Rue Richelieu, almost opposite the Thtre Franais, one of the points

where passers-by are most numerous, and in consequence one of the points

most carefully watched. The goings and comings of the Representatives

who were communicating with the Committee, and who came in and out

unceasingly, would be inevitably noticed, and would bring about a visit

from the Police. The porters and the neighbors already manifested an

evil-boding surprise. We ran, so Landrin declared and assured us, the

greatest danger. "You will be taken and shot," said he to us.

He entreated us to go elsewhere. M. Grvy's brother, consulted by us,

stated that he could not answer for the people of his house.

But what was to be done? Hunted now for two days, we had exhausted the

goodwill of nearly everybody, one refuge had been refused on the

preceding evening, and at this moment no house was offered to us. Since

the night of the 2d we had changed our refuge seventeen times, at times

going from one extremity of Paris to the other. We began to experience

some weariness. Besides, as I have already said, the house where we were

had this signal advantage--a back outlet upon the Rue Fontaine-Molire.

We decided to remain. Only we thought we ought to take precautionary

measures.

Every species of devotion burst forth from the ranks of the Left around

us. A noteworthy member of the Assembly--a man of rare mind and of rare

courage--Durand-Savoyat--who from the preceding evening until the last

day constituted himself our doorkeeper, and even more than this, our

usher and our attendant, himself had placed a bell on our table, and had

said to us, "When you want me, ring, and I will come in." Wherever we

went, there was he. He remained in the ante-chamber, calm, impassive,

silent, with his grave and noble countenance, his buttoned frock coat,

and his broad-brimmed hat, which gave him the appearance of an Anglican

clergyman. He himself opened the entrance door, scanned the faces of

those who came, and kept away the importunate and the useless. Besides,

he was always cheerful, and ready to say unceasingly, "Things are

looking well." We were lost, yet he smiled. Optimism in Despair.

We called him in. Landrin set forth to him his misgivings. We begged

Durand-Savoyat in future to allow no one to remain in the apartments,

not even the Representatives of the People, to take note of all news and

information, and to allow no one to penetrate to us but men who were

indispensable, in short, as far as possible, to send away every one in

order that the goings and comings might cease. Durand-Savoyat nodded his

head, and went back into the ante-chamber, saying, "It shall be done."

He confined himself of his own accord to these two formulas; for us,

"Things are looking well," for himself, "It shall be done." "It shall be

done," a noble manner in which to speak of duty.

Landrin and Durand-Savoyat having left, Michel de Bourges began to

speak.

"The artifice of Louis Bonaparte, imitator of his uncle in this as in

everything," said Michel de Bourges, "had been to throw out in advance

an appeal to the People, a vote to be taken, a plebiscitum, in short, to

create a Government in appearance at the very moment when he overturned

one. In great crises, where everything totters and seems ready to fall,

a People has need to lay hold of something. Failing any other support,

it will take the sovereignty of Louis Bonaparte. Well, it was necessary

that a support should be offered to the people, by us, in the form of

its own sovereignty. The Assembly," continued Michel de Bourges, "was,

as a fact, dead. The Left, the popular stump of this hated Assembly,

might suffice for the situation for a few days. No more. It was

necessary that it should be reinvigorated by the national sovereignty.

It was therefore important that we also should appeal to universal

suffrage, should oppose vote to vote, should raise erect the Sovereign

People before the usurping Prince, and should immediately convoke a new

Assembly." Michel de Bourges proposed a decree.

Michel de Bourges was right. Behind the victory of Louis Bonaparte could

be seen something hateful, but something which was familiar--the Empire;

behind the victory of the Left there was obscurity. We must bring in

daylight behind us. That which causes the greatest uneasiness to

people's imagination is the dictatorship of the Unknown. To convoke a

new Assembly as soon as possible, to restore France at once into the

hands of France, this was to reassure people's minds during the combat,

and to rally them afterwards; this was the true policy.

For some time, while listening to Michel de Bourges and Jules Favre, who

supported him, we fancied we heard, in the next room, a murmur which

resembled the sound of voices. Jules Favre had several times exclaimed,

"Is any one there?"

"It is not possible," was the answer. "We have instructed Durand-Savoyat

to allow no one to remain there." And the discussion continued.

Nevertheless the sound of voices insensibly increased, and ultimately

grew so distinct that it became necessary to see what it meant. Carnot

half opened the door. The room and the ante-chamber adjoining the room

where we were deliberating were filled with Representatives, who were

peaceably conversing.

Surprised, we called in Durand-Savoyat.

"Did you not understand us?" asked Michel de Bourges.

"Yes, certainly," answered Durand-Savoyat.

"This house is perhaps marked," resumed Carnot; "we are in danger of

being taken."

"And killed upon the spot," added Jules Favre, smiling with his calm

smile.

"Exactly so," answered Durand-Savoyat, with a look still quieter than

Jules Favre's smile. "The door of this inner room is shrouded in the

darkness, and is little noticeable. I have detained all the

Representatives who have come in, and have placed them in the larger

room and in the ante-chamber, whichever they have wished. A species of

crowd has thus been formed. If the police and the troops arrive, I shall

say to them, 'Here we are.' They will take us. They will not perceive

the door of the inner room, and they will not reach you. We shall pay

for you. If there is any one to be killed, they will content themselves

with us."

And without imagining that he had just uttered the words of a hero,

Durand-Savoyat went back to the antechamber.

We resumed our deliberation on the subject of a decree. We were

unanimously agreed upon the advantage of an immediate convocation of a

New Assembly. But for what date? Louis Bonaparte had appointed the 20th

of December for his Plebiscitum; we chose the 21st. Then, what should we

call this Assembly? Michel de Bourges strongly advocated the title of

"National Convention," Jules Favre that its name should be "Constituent

Assembly," Carnot proposed the title of "Sovereign Assembly," which,

awakening no remembrances, would leave the field free to all hopes. The

name of "Sovereign Assembly" was adopted.

The decree, the preamble of which Carnot insisted upon writing from my

dictation, was drawn up in these terms. It is one of those which has

been printed and placarded.

I have since seen Charassin in exile.

Madame Charassin had just left me when Thodore Bac arrived. He brought

us the protest of the Council of State.

Here it is:--

Louis Bonaparte had driven away the Assembly by the Army, and the High

Court of Justice by the Police; he expelled the Council of State by the

porter.

On the morning of the 2d of December, at the very hour at which the

Representatives of the Right had gone from M. Daru's to the Mairie of

the Tenth Arrondissement, the Councillors of State betook themselves to

the Hotel on the Quai d'Orsay. They went in one by one.

The quay was thronged with soldiers. A regiment was bivouacking there

with their arms piled.

The Councillors of State soon numbered about thirty. They set to work to

deliberate. A draft protest was drawn up. At the moment when it was about

to be signed the porter came in, pale and stammering. He declared that he

was executing his orders, and he enjoined them to withdraw.

Upon this several Councillors of State declared that, indignant as they

were, they could not place their signatures beside the Republican

signatures.

A means of obeying the porter.

M. Bethmont, one of the Presidents of the Council of State, offered the

use of his house. He lived in the Rue Saint-Romain. The Republican

members repaired there, and without discussion signed the protocol which

has been given above.

Some members who lived in the more distant quarters had not been able to

come to the meeting. The youngest Councillor of State, a man of firm

heart and of noble mind, M. Edouard Charton, undertook to take the

protest to his absent colleagues.

He did this, not without serious risk, on foot, not having been able to

obtain a carriage, and he was arrested by the soldiery and threatened

with being searched, which would have been highly dangerous. Nevertheless

he succeeded in reaching some of the Councillors of State. Many signed,

Pons de l'Hrault resolutely, Cormenin with a sort of fever, Boudet after

some hesitation. M. Boudet trembled, his family were alarmed, they heard

through the open window the discharge of artillery. Charton, brave and

calm, said to him, "Your friends, Vivien, Rivet, and Stourm have signed."

Boullet signed.

Many refused, one alleging his great age, another the _res angusta domi_,

a third "the fear of doing the work of the Reds." "Say 'fear,' in short,"

replied Charton.

On the following day, December 3d, MM. Vivien and Bethmont took the

protest to Boulay de la Meurthe, Vice-President of the Republic, and

President of the Council of State, who received them in his dressing-gown,

and exclaimed to them, "Be off! Ruin yourselves, if you like, but without

me."

On the morning of the 4th, M. de Cormenin erased his signature, giving

this unprecedented but authentic excuse: "The word _ex_-Councillor of

State does not look well in a book; I am afraid of injuring my

publisher."

Yet another characteristic detail. M. Bhic, on the morning of the 2d,

had arrived while they were drawing up the protest. He had half opened

the door. Near the door was standing M. Gautier de Rumilly, one of the

most justly respected members of the Council of State. M. Bhic had

asked M. Gautier de Rumilly, "What are they doing? It is a crime. What

are we doing?" M. Gautier de Rumilly had answered, "A protest." Upon,

this word M. Bhic had reclosed the door, and had disappeared. He

reappeared later on under the Empire--a Minister.