Edmond Dantès — A Notable Fête, part 1

A NOTABLE FETE.

On the night of Monday, February 21st, 1848, all Paris was at the house of M. Gaultier de Rumilly, in the Avenue des Champs Elysees.

M.

Gaultier de Rumilly was well known as one of the leaders of the extreme left, though the confidential friend of M. Odillon Barrot, and the fete was perfectly understood to be a political reunion, rather than a social one.

All the accompaniments of the most splendid society events of the season were in requisition.

Even the brilliant balls given by the opulent citizens of New York were eclipsed in luxury and splendor.

There was the streaming of lamps and chandeliers, the swell of enchanting music, the whirl of the fascinating polka, redowa or mazurka, while throngs of richly attired and lovely women were constantly enhancing the magnificence of the scene by their arrival.

The brilliancy of the occasion was also richly diversified by the presence of an unusually large number of officers of the Municipal and National Guards in full uniform, as well as of several belonging to the Line or the regiments of Algeria.

It was about ten o'clock.

Within, all was light, life and loveliness;

without, the winter wind moaned drearily through the leafless trees of the Boulevard, and the drifting sleet swept along the deserted streets.

It was a wild night.

Throughout all Paris seemed going forth a portentous murmur, like that mysterious moaning of the ocean, which, with mariners, is the prelude of a storm.

An ominous whispering, as of many voices, seemed to sink and swell on the sweeping night blast; then all was still.

Again, in the distance, would rise a sharp shout, or the stern, brief word of military command.

At intervals, also, one might imagine he heard a deep rumbling, as of heavy ordnance and its tumbrels over the pavements, accompanied by the measured tread of armed men and the clattering hoofs of cavalry horses.

Then these sounds died away, and along the narrow streets of Paris again the night wind only swept, the bitter blast howled and the ominous whispering, as of spirits, rose and fell.

It was a strange and stormy night--murky and chilly--while at intervals the cold rain dashed down in cutting blasts.

But within the magnificent mansion of Gaultier de Rumilly all was light and loveliness, as has been said.

The splendid salons were already thronged, yet crowds of richly-attired guests were constantly arriving.

"Ha!

Beauchamp, just come?"

cried Chateau-Renaud to his friend, as he entered.

"By the grace of God, yes!"

said the journalist.

"What a night!"

"What a throng of men and women say rather!"

was the reply.

"Very true.

Who's here?"

"Ask who's not here, and your question may be easily answered.

All Paris is here!

Women of every age and station, and men of all political creeds--Conservatives, Dynastics, Legitimists, Republicans and Communists.

Indeed, this soiree seems to me, and I shouldn't wonder if it were designed so to be, a general reunion of the leaders of all the great parties in France, to compare notes and learn the news."

"And there is news enough to learn, it would seem.

Is M. Dantes here?"

"He is, or was, and his beautiful wife, too, the most magnificent woman in Paris.

Morrel also is here with his fair bride."

"And who is that dark, dignified man in the Turkish costume, around whom the ladies have clustered so inquisitively?"

asked the Deputy.

"Why, that's the Emir of Algeria, the famous captive of the Duke d'Aumale," was the reply.

"What!

Abd-el-Kader!

How comes he here?"

"Oh!

as a special favor, I suppose; he has a respite from his sad prison."

"What a splendid beard, and what keen black eyes!"

"No, his eyes are decidedly gray, but so shaded by his extraordinary lashes that they seem black.

They say that he was more distinguished as a scholar, in Algeria, than as a soldier, statesman or priest.

In fact, he is as erudite as an Arab can be, and his library, which is contained in two leathern trunks, accompanied him in all his wanderings prior to his submission."

"And what think you really induced him to surrender himself?"

"Policy of the deepest character, and worthy of Talleyrand, Metternich or Nesselrode, if we are to rely on the eloquent speech of Lamoriciere in the Chamber, the other day."

"I remember.

Bugeaud spoke first, and Lamoriciere followed.

He thought that the Arab Curtius leaped into the gulf because, by so doing, he was convinced he could injure French interests more than by his freedom.

Well, perhaps he was right.

He bids fair to be a hard bone of contention between the opposition and the Ministry."

"If I mistake not, Lamoriciere disclaimed all responsibility for accepting the surrender, and placed it on the Governor-General, the young Duke, for whom the Ministry is liable?"

"Yes; and Guizot announced that he would send the Emir back to Alexandria, could security be given against his return to Algeria."

"As to the Emir's surrender, at which you wonder, the real cause is said to have been not policy, but the universal passion--love."

"He is an Antony, then, instead of a Curtius."

"So it seems.

At the moment when, with incredible efforts, he had effected the passage of the Moorish camp, and was off like an ostrich for the desert, the firing of the French, who had reached his deira, struck his ear.

Back he flew like the lamiel.

Twice his horse fell under him dead--twice he was surrounded and seized, and twice, by his wonderful agility, he regained his freedom.

At last, perceiving that all was lost, he turned his face again toward the desert, and, for two days and nights, continued his flight.

But his heart was behind him.

Certain of escape himself, he preferred hopeless captivity with her he loved, and he returned."

"Quite poetical, on my word!

Worthy of Sadi, the Arab Petrarch, himself!"

said Chateau-Renaud.

"He is decidedly a great man, that Abd-el-Kader.

They say he bears his misfortunes like a philosopher--or, better, a Turk--unalterably mild and dignified, while his wives and his mother wail at his feet.

Every morning he reads the Koran to them, and during the orisons all the windows are open, and a large fire blazes in the centre of the room."

"He is a decided godsend to the quidnuncs of Paris."

"So would be a Hottentot, or a North American savage," replied Beauchamp.

"Rather a different affair this from the Ministerial soiree a week ago, I fancy," remarked the editor.

"Rather.

I will confess to you, Beauchamp, I attended that soiree from curiosity to see whether M. Guizot retained his habitual placidity of manner amid the clouds every day thickening around him."

"And what was the result?"

"Why, this.

He was as polite and courteous as ever, and the same cold, imperturbable smile was on his thin lip; but he looked careworn, and upon his countenance was an expression of solicitude, when it was closely watched, which I never saw there before.

Ah, Beauchamp, I envy not the Premier!"

"And the guests?"

asked the journalist.

"Of guests there were but few; and the spacious salons of the Hotel des Affaires Etrangeres looked dismal and deserted."

"The lovely Countess Leven--" "Even she was absent."

"And the Countess of Dino?"

"Absent, too."

"The soiree must have been, indeed, dull without those 'charming queens of intrigue,' as Louis Blanc courteously calls them.

But tell me, Count, is the Minister really the husband of the beautiful Leven, or is she only his par amours?"

"No one knows.

It is certain, however, that the great man devotes to the enchantress every moment he can steal from the State, though to look at him one would hardly suppose him a lover, in any meaning of the term.

But who knows?

To read his writings can one imagine a purer man?

But, then, the affairs of Gisquet, Cubieres, Teste, and, last and worst, Petit, whose case was before the Chamber, do they not betray deplorable lack of firmness or morality?

But no more of this.

Who is that dark, splendid woman to whom young Joliette seems so devoted?

I have seen them together before!"

"Why, you surely have not forgotten Louise d'Armilly, the charming cantatrice!

She has recently left the boards, to the irreparable loss of the opera, having come into possession of an immense inheritance--some millions, it is said, left by her father, who was once a banker of Paris.

She is asserted to be very accomplished and very ambitious, and, as the young African paladin is thoroughly bewitched by her, and she by him, they will, doubtless, be matched as well as paired."

"Has Lucien been here?"

asked the Deputy, after a pause, during which the young men surveyed the brilliant throngs that passed before them and returned the salutations of their acquaintances.

"I think not.

We have not met, at least," replied the journalist.

"He can hardly be spared to-night, I fancy.

The Ministry have had a stormy day, and are, doubtless, preparing for one still more stormy to-morrow."

"There was a perfect tempest in the Chamber this evening, I understand."

"Call it rather a hurricane, a tornado!"

"Ah!

give me the particulars; here, come with me into this corner.

Unfortunately, I was not present.

I was busy on the General Committee for the Banquet of the Twelfth Arrondissement, to-morrow, at Chaillot.

To avoid all possibility of collision with the police, we resolved, you know, not to have the banquet within the walls of Paris, and so there is to be a procession to the Barriere de l'Etoile.

I have been there since morning, and reached the city only in time to come here.

So, you see, I am edifyingly ignorant of the latest news."

"Then I have to inform you that there is to be no banquet after all."

"No banquet!

Why, I thought it was compromised between Guizot and Barrot that the banquet should be allowed to proceed under protest, in order that the question might be brought before the Supreme Court."

"Such was the purpose, but a manifesto of the Banquet Committee, drawn up by Marrast, it is said, and, at all events, issued in 'Le National' this morning, declaring the design not only of a banquet, but of a procession, changed everything.

The address sets forth that all invited to the banquet would assemble at the Place de la Madeleine to-morrow at about noon, and thence, escorted by the National Guard, and accompanied by the students of the universities, should proceed by the Place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, at the extremity of the Avenue des Champs Elysees, and thence to the immense pavilion on the grounds of General Shian.

Only one toast, 'Reform, and the right to assemble,' was announced to be drunk, and then a commissary of police could enter a formal protest against the whole proceeding on the spot, on which to base a legal prosecution, and the multitude would disperse."

"A very sensible mode of procedure," quietly remarked the journalist, "and one eminently calculated to relieve your friend Guizot and my friend Barrot from the awkward dilemma of a direct issue."

"But so thought not my friend Guizot.

Like his oracle, the sage Montesquieu, he thought, 'Who assembles the people causes them to revolt.'

He took fright at the manifesto, as he was pleased to dignify the simple programme in this morning's 'National,' and so, early in the sitting, it was announced that the reform banquet was utterly prohibited by M. Delessert, Prefect of Police, on the express injunction and responsibility of M. Duchatel, Minister of the Interior, by and with the advice of M. Hebert, Minister of Justice."

"Ha!

and what said Odillon Barrot?"

cried the journalist.

"He--why he said nothing at all, but immediately retired at the head of the opposition from the Chamber."

"To consult?"

"Of course.

An hour after, they returned in a body two hundred and fifty strong, with Barrot at their head, who at once mounted the tribune and denounced the despotism of the Ministry in forbidding the peaceful assembling of the citizens, without tumult or arms, to discuss their political rights.

Duchatel replied, under great excitement.

"'Shall reform committees dare to call out the National Guard at their pleasure?'

he asked.

"'Will you dare to call out the National Guard?'

retorted De Courtais, fiercely.

'Only try it!'

"'The Government of France will never yield!'

rejoined the Minister, pale with fury.

"'Speak in your own name, Monsieur!'

shouted Flocon.

"'I shall never speak in yours!'

was the answer.

"'You play the game of menace!'

cried Lesseps.

"'The Government will never yield!'

again vociferated Duchatel.

"'Those were the very words of Charles X.!'

observed M. Dantes, sternly.

The entire left responded in a terrific roar.

"'There is blood in those words!'

shouted Ledru Rollin.

"'The Government will never yield!'

the Minister of the Interior for the third time vehemently exclaimed, and the right gathered around him.

'This is worse than Polignac or Peyronet!'

vociferated Odillon Barrot, his trumpet tones rising above all others like a clarion in a tempest.

Those hated names were greeted by a yell of abhorrence perfectly savage from the left; then all was uproar--a dozen voices simultaneously shouting at their loudest--denunciation--menace--defiance--retort--clenched hands--extended arms--furious gesticulations--every one on tip-toe--fiery eyes--stamping feet--shouts of 'Order!

order!

order!'

--and, amid all, the incessant tinkling of old Sauzet's little silver bell, which was just about as effective in restoring peace as it would be to quiet the tempest now howling through the streets of Paris.

At length, in utter consternation and dismay the old President put on his hat, and, pronouncing the seance ended, rushed from his chair amid a hurricane of uproarious shouts."

"And Odillon Barrot?"

"Odillon Barrot led the opposition members immediately from the Chamber to his own house, where they have been ever since in deliberation.

It was six o'clock when the sitting closed, and they must be in consultation now, or Barrot would surely be here, if but for a moment, out of respect to his bosom friend, our host.

Ah!

there he is, just entering, surrounded by a perfect army of Republicans--De Courtais, Marrast, Lesseps, Duvergier, Flocon, Lamartine, Dupont and a whole host besides."

"How excited they look!"

exclaimed the journalist.

"Ah!

Thiers approaches them from the other end of the salon!"

"M. Thiers, like the worldly-wise and selfish man he is, has held himself aloof from the banquet, and even declined the invitation accepted by a hundred of his party; to-day he was absent from the Chamber and to-night from the conclave, all with the aspiring, yet vain hope, that the King will send for him to form a Ministry."

"And yet, in the Chamber, a few days ago, he said that he was of the party of the revolution in Europe."

"True, but he added that he wished the revolution carried on by its moderate supporters, and that he should do all he could to keep it in the hands of the moderate party."

"'But if it should pass into the hands of a party not moderate,' continued the crafty ex-Minister, 'I shall not abandon the cause of the revolution.

I shall be always of the party of the revolution.'

But see, he singles out Marrast, of all others!"

"And his old colleague of 'Le National' seems to give him no very cordial reception," added the Deputy.

"But let us move up and hear the determination of the opposition relative to the banquet."

"That's the very question the little historian has just propounded to the great journalist.

Now for the answer."

"The opposition decide, Monsieur, to abandon the banquet," was the angry reply of the editor to the ex-Minister.

"Indeed!"

was the bland rejoinder; "and has a manifesto of this decision been issued to the people?"

"It has; and it instantly called forth a counter manifesto from the electoral committee of the Twelfth Arrondissement, expressing very natural astonishment that, at the same time the opposition abandoned the banquet, they had not abandoned their seats in the Chamber, and inviting them so to do at once."

"And the Ministry?"

anxiously asked M. Thiers.

"Will to-morrow be impeached, Monsieur!"

"Ah!

indeed!

indeed!"

cried the smart little aspirant, gleefully rubbing his hands.

At that moment General Lamoriciere, the brother-in-law of Thiers, who owed so much to the house of Orleans, hastily approached.

"I come straight from the Tuileries," he said, with considerable excitement.

"General Jacqueminot has just issued an order of the day, as commander-in-chief of the National Guard, appealing to them as the constitutional protectors of the Throne to take no part in the banquet.

Orders have, also, been issued for the rappel to be beaten at dawn, in the Quartier St. Honore, the scene of the contemplated procession.

But it's all folly to rely on the National Guard.

They are of the people.

Only the Municipal Guard and the troops of the Line can be relied on in the civil conflict, which is sure to come to-morrow."

"And the Ministers, what do they?"

asked Thiers.

"Oh!

they are not idle," replied the soldier.

"The bastilles are armed, and those of Montrouge and Aubervilliers are provisioned.

The horse-artillery at Vincennes are ready, on the instant, to gallop into the capital.

Seventy additional pieces of ordnance are now entering the barrieres.

The Municipal Guard are supplied with ball-cartridges.

The troops concentrated at sunrise to-morrow will not be less than one hundred thousand strong.

With these men in the forts and faithful, the city can be starved in three days, National Guard and all, if rebellious.

Now is the crisis in which to test the remarkable admission of M. Duchatel, in May, '45, that the bastilles of Paris were designed to 'fortify order.'

We shall see, we shall see!"

"And the Marshal Duke of Islay--where is he?"

quietly asked Marrast, with a significant shrug and smile.

At this mention of his bitter foe, a frown lowered on the fine face of Lamoriciere, as he briefly and sternly replied: "With the King, Monsieur--General Bugeaud is with the King.

But they mistake, Monsieur.

Eugene Cavaignac is the man for this emergency.

Bugeaud is a soldier--a mere soldier--Cavaignac is a statesman--a Napoleon!

Paris will discriminate between the two one day, and that shortly."

And with an abrupt military salute the conqueror of Algeria walked away, followed by his little brother-in-law, who seemed yet shorter and more insignificant at the side of his towering and graceful form.

At the same moment, Ledru Rollin entered in great agitation, and, having glanced hastily around, as if in search of some one in the assemblage, advanced straight to the journalist and grasped his hand.

"By heavens, Armand, I think the hour has arrived!"

"Whence do you come?"

was the quick question.

"From the Boulevards, where I left Flocon, Louis Blanc and M. Dantes, with the people.

I tell you, Armand, the people are ripe--ripe!

The Ministerial ordinances prohibiting the banquet have kindled a flame wherever they have gone.

The pitiful manifesto of the opposition and the counter manifesto of the Twelfth Arrondissement have only served to fan this flame into fury.

It has been our care to restrain and direct, not to excite.

It is dark and cold without, Armand; the winter wind howls dismally along the streets, the sleet freezes as it falls and the furious blast almost extinguishes the torches by which, at the corners and at the cafes, the different manifestoes of the day are being read to the eager throngs, on whose faces, in the flare of the blood-red light, can be perceived the fury of their hearts.

The people, at length, are ripe!

To-morrow all Paris will be in arms!"

While Ledru Rollin was thus speaking, Louis Blanc entered and quietly approached, courteously saluting his acquaintances on his way, and stopping to exchange a few words with Madame Dantes, who inquired with considerable anxiety for her husband.

"I have this moment left him, Madame," said Louis Blanc.

"Be assured, he is safe and well.

Ah!

how glorious to be an object of solicitude to one like you!"

he added, with a smile.