THE EVENTFUL DAYS OF FEBRUARY 1848 IN PARIS.

BY AN AMERICAN LADY.

THE narrative I am about to present to the reader has at least one advantage-its veracity may be depended upon. Ten thousand stories have gone the round of the newspapers, which I believe to be true, because they tally in spirit with those I know to be fact; but such may be read elsewhere. I am the reporting medium of only such as came to me on unimpeachable evidence.

I had not been very long in Paris before there occurred that attack on M. Guizot and his cabinet about the "Presse," and leases of theatres, and sundry other matters of bribery and corruption. The minister came out triumphant, not by defending his own camp, but by carrying the attack into that of the enemy. M. Emile de Girardin made a fool of himself,-worse one can hardly say of him, for he was already one of those men to whom belongs "no character at all." On the heels of this came the "Teste" affair. Our next excitement was the Beauvallon and D'Equevilley business, which would have attracted a great deal more notice had the Duke de Praslin spared his wife a little while.

Next the reform banquets were meant to be the expression of public opinion. How else was public opinion to reach the King and his colleagues entrenched in their own coterie? And vast as the ministerial majority was in the Chamber, the wonder to me is that it was not greater; for of the 35,000,000 of France there were but 240,000 electors; and every Englishman who has landed at any French seaport, and enquired the reason why every third man wore a cockedhat, gold lace, and a sword by his side, knows that nearly every kind of place in France is in the gift of the ministry. In England, companies and individuals have a vast amount of petty patronage; in France, every place, from that of a guard upon a railway to the dignity of a judge, is disposed of by government favour.

Seventy of these banquets had passed off in the provinces, presided ever generally by deputies, and attended by National Guards and the middling classes of the people. At the famous one at Maçon, where M. de Lamartine spoke for two hours, the company sat eager and delighted in their tent, under umbrellas, whilst crowds were collected in the pouring rain outside, content to wait in hopes to catch but the faintest echo of his words.

Then came stormy discussions and ministerial difficulties in the Chamber, and the announcement of the reform banquet of the twelfth arrondissement. For some days the spot on which it was to be held was undecided, but at length it was fixed for our near neighbourhood. Till the Monday afternoon I suppose everybody was of opinion that it would go off quietly, that the subscribers would assemble, eat nothing, have a speech from the president, receive a summons from the Préfet of Police to the effect that their meeting was illegal, and that the affair would be tried in the lawcourts, where resistance would be made to the suppression of the banquets in every possible way. Nevertheless, Paris was crammed

* A late computation makes the places in the direct gift of the ministry 68,000.

with troops; the passing of artillery waggons and the entry of regiments, startled us often from sleep for several nights previously; and the little barrack opposite our window was as full of soldiers as it could hold.

It was a beautiful day, that Monday; the air was soft and genial, the sky bright, and the Champs Elysées were very gay. We remarked, as we walked through them, that the Paris population seemed to make the day a sort of fête-that, except upon the festival days of May and of July, we had never seen so many workmen there; and that whereas, in a walk of half a mile, we had often counted a hundred soldiers, there was not on that day one uniform abroad.

Scarcely any one was aware at that time that government had prohibited the banquet, and we went to bed in ignorance; disturbed, however, all night by the unwonted passing of carts and carriages. In the latter, as we learnt afterwards, were the opposition members, going up to the spot where the banquet was to have been held, with counter orders, whilst carts were engaged in removing all the preparations that had been made previously, and in carrying every loose paving stone in Paris out of the way.

"Is it a fine morning for the banquet?" was the first question asked when we awoke. "There is to be no banquet," was the answer. "See yonder, the proclamation posted up on the door of the barrack over the way."

We looked, and found a strange change had taken place in that establishment. Its doors were closed, its lower windows filled up with what looked to us a little like a defence of cotton bags, the sentry was off duty-not a soldier's head was to be seen, though we knew that the place was swarming with them. It looked sly and mischievous enough, as it stood there so unnaturally still. Our day passed quietly till about eleven o'clock, when some tradespeople came up to us. One reported that the Place de la Madeleine was full of people, most of them well dressed, supporters of the opposition, who had assembled before Odillon Barrot's house to ask what they should do. Few national guards in uniform were amongst them. Everything was perfectly quiet and orderly, people seemed to have gathered there to see, and were waiting to know what was expected of them. In the Place de la Concorde, however, which was equally crowded, more was being done. A party of municipal guards, stationed on the bridge before the Deputies, were disposed to deny a passage to any one who could not shew the medal of a Deputy. A considerable party of working-men and boys, without apparently any particular object, or any recognized leaders, broke through this line of guards, crossed the bridge, and ascended the steps of the Chamber of Deputies. An American gentleman who was upon the spot followed the party. They demanded an entrance into the Chamber, which was denied them, and as they hesitated whether to take "No" for an answer, two or three men (who our friend declares were mouchards, that is government spies set to gauge the disposition of the people), began breaking some of the windows. Our friend remained amongst the officers till this part of the business was over, when he went upon the bridge, which was very much crowded. A party of dragoons came up and began to clear it, but good-humouredly and gently, and the people were retiring as fast as their numbers

made it possible, when a party of the Municipal Guard rode up behind, passed through the ranks of the dragoons, and began prancing their horses and cutting about them very violently. A good many persons were injured, and one old woman was trodden down. On this the people were greatly exasperated, and stones were thrown, but none of any great size, at the guards. The soldiers then drew out their sabres, and began charging and slashing about them brutally. This was the beginning-the first moment of violence—the first scene of the first act of the New Revolution. In our quarter, too, things were getting very exciting, especially to a party of ladies left by themselves to conjecture the cause and meaning of all they saw around.

A crowd had collected at the corner of our quiet street;—mostly of mere curious spectators. A good many English ladies too-whose windows commanded no view of the Champs Elysées were to be seen; concierges in white aprons; grisettes in their neat caps; and amongst them apple-dealers, and vegetable-vendors, offering their things for sale. All were talking,-gesticulating,-pointing downwards. Soon we were able to observe the erection of a barricade. Cabs, at full speed, were driving away out of the reach of danger. Omnibus horses came up the street, unencumbered by omnibuses. And a wretched driver of a remise made his appearance seated astride upon his horse, his big Benjamin reposing demurely on its tail, his long carriage whip held upright in his hand. A tree was hewn down by hatchets borrowed from the house over the way. An omnibus, a few barrels, a dozen yards of paving-stones torn up, a tree or two, or an old table formed the barricade. Lamps were being broken all up the Champs Elysées. A party of gamins came by, and the respectables of the crowd stood aside looking at them. They tore up our benches, tugged at the sentry-box. Two hundred people scampering at the top of their speed at this moment, turned down our street, as fifty dragoons charged up the Champs Elysées. I never saw a sight like it ;-such unanimity of quickness! But now they stopped, turned round, and came back again, whilst the dragoons rode slowly back, breathing their horses. The fugitives were not angry, for nobody had been hurt; but frightened enough. Six National Guards could now be seen amongst a party of blouses; unarmed it is true, but shouting, singing, and carrying the tri-coloured flag. They advanced up Chaillot to the locality of the banquet.

Towards evening the rappel was beaten in our quarter. At night the barricades near us were all removed by the military; the streets were very quiet, and we slept in peace; though the octroi houses and omnibus stations at the Barrier de l'Etoile, and a guard-house on the Rue Matignon, were burnt in the evening.

Up to that moment it had been a mere riot of gamins, but in the night the secret societies met, and their decision turned the scale. We were awakened. in the morning by the marching in of troops; a regiment of infantry and one of cavalry. The Wednesday passed quietly with us. The streets, however, were choked with soldiers, chiefly cavalry. In the Place de la Concorde there must have been 5000 of them. I have seen a great many people who were that day on the scene of action, but all agree that the fighting was not very general, and comparatively languished. The day too was

very unfavourable, being a real April day of gusty storms. But the National Guards evinced their sympathy with the people by shouting by whole battalions "A bas Guizot," and "Vive la Reforme." At half-past ten, the King expressed to M. Guizot his satisfaction at the arrangements made, and his entire confidence. An hour or two later, on entering the Chamber, a communication was put into the minister's hand, informing him that he was dismissed from the Royal counsels, and that Count Molé was closeted with the King. Those who have been admitted into M. Guizot's confidence, say that his resentment at this treatment was dignified, but extreme.

At five o'clock, we were glad to get out for a walk. The Champs Elysées were full of promenaders, many of them our English and American friends, come out to see the débris of the preceding day's proceedings. The Place de la Concorde was still full of troops, most of them dragoons with their tired, mudstained little horses drawn up on the beautiful asphalt pavement. Before the great gates of the Tuileries several pieces of artillery were posted, and National Guards lined the square towards the Admiralty. The greater part of the streets leading to the Boulevards were illuminated, and processions everywhere were formed. Amongst other cries was Vive la ligne, showing that the regulars being considered friendly were popular; some bands it is said presented themselves in the neighbourhood of the Tuileries, with shouts of Vive le roi! At nine o'clock many of our friends who had come out for news or were returning to their homes, were on the Boulevard at the moment when a large procession of this kind passed by the Ministry of the Affaires Etrangères, singing patriotic songs and preceded by boys. carrying torches and lanterns. Suddenly two separate discharges of musketry took place. One from the infantry of the 14th regiment stationed before Guizot's house, the other from the cavalry. There was a moment of death-like silence, and then the fury of the crowd, the shouts, the yells, the screams that followed no tongue can describe. The cause of this fatal fusillade is still unexplained. The most probable account, however, is that the horse of the captain of infantry having been wounded by the accidental discharge of a gun belonging to a soldier, his owner, struck by a panic, fancied it an attack, and gave the unhappy order. From that moment all was lost. Gathering up their dead, part of the crowd marched along the Boulevard to the office of the National; waving their torches, and calling down vengeance on the assassins of their brethren. Others dispersed themselves through the neighbouring streets, shouting, "To arms! to arms! we are betrayed! on nous assassine." During the night and the following day. 33,000 barricades were thrown up. Some of them in the neighbourhood of the Bastile, were as high as the second story. Vincennes was completely cut off from the capital. Everywhere, from an early hour on Thursday morning, arms were demanded, but I have not heard of a single instance in which families were put to unnecessary terror. I have heard several beautiful and authentic anecdotes of consideration for the sick on these occasions; one especially which occurred to a lady whose name I could furnish. Her little child was dying, and the mother was kneeling absorbed in prayer beside its bed. Her servants had dispersed, and she was too much occupied with her maternal grief to heed what was going on without, when suddenly her door

opened, and a party of armed men en blouse entered the chamber. The mother raised her head, and hushed them with her hand, for the presence of the king of terrors had absorbed her fears; but what was her surprise when all these rude, rough men knelt down beside her, joined their prayers with hers for the soul that was departing, and then quitted the room in silence, placing a guard, and writing up over the door, "Respect this house, for death is here." At half-past nine, the Place de la Concorde was as still as death.

At this juncture, in front of Guizot's house, five thousand troops suddenly reversed their arms, the cavalry rode off, whilst the line fraternized with the people. Truly this was the coup de grace for the Orleans dynasty.

At half-past ten, Odillon Barrot rode along the Boulevard to assure the people he was now their Minister, and their cause was gained. He was met with shouts of " Never mind him!" "We have no time to listen." "Too late!" "We know all he has to say to us." "A l'œuvre ! à l'œuvre !" and the man who had thought himself popular and great -the leader of a revolution-was forced to return whence he came, without having produced any impression. About the same time in the day, the Ecole Militaire was taken; and the military prisoners were released. A little blouse guarded the staircase leading to the apartments of the ladies of the governor, and no one was allowed to intrude on them or frighten them. The fight of the Place du Palais Royal was, about half-past twelve, very severe. The Municipal Guard defended the Château d'Eau against the National Guards and people, and the effect is said to have been awful, when the building being set light to they continued their firing out of the midst of the flames. The post was carried; the Carousel filled with people; and the royal family were just sitting down to a déjeuner à la fourchette, when a party of people, amongst them, Emile Girardin, made their way to the king, imploring him to abdicate at once, and spare the people; for although artillery might defend the palace a few hours, nothing now could save his crown. Without a word Louis Philippe drew pen and paper towards him, and wrote his abdication. Embracing the little Comte de Paris, he went out, saying to the gentlemen around him, "This child is your king." First beneath the Pavillon de l'Horloge came a party of dragoons, leading their horses down the steps and flying from the Carousel. Then followed the royal family, slenderly accompanied. The people entered the Tuileries as they left it. At the Champs Elysées, by side of the obelisk, the royal party found two broughams in waiting, one the property of an English gentleman. The king and queen got into the foremost, in which were several children. Into the second got the Duchesse de Nemours, the Princess Clementine, and an attendant. Some of the crowd cried as they passed, "Respect old age! Respect misfortune!" And the story told in the newspapers is quite true, that when an officer cried out to the people, "Do not hurt the king," a man en blouse stepped forward and replied, "Do you take us for assassins? Let him get away." It was the feeling of the crowd; and scarcely an insult, even in word, was offered them. The coachmen whipped their horses furiously, and the royal party drove away, but in such haste and confusion that the poor little Duchesse de Montpensier was left upon the side walk, alone, and weeping bitterly. A Portuguese gentleman who was pass