THE HISTORY OF A CRIME

THE TESTIMONY OF AN EYE-WITNESS

BY VICTOR HUGO THE FIRST DAY

 THE FIRST DAY-THE AMBUSH

CHAPTER 1. - "Security"

On December 1, 1851, Charras dismissed the idea of a

coup d'état as absurd and even humiliating to consider.
The focus of the government at the time was clearly on
the Devincq election, not on plotting against the Republic
or the people.

The idea of such a conspiracy seemed unthinkable. Who

could even attempt such an audacious plan?
Overthrowing the Republic, dismantling the Constitution,
dishonoring the Army, corrupting the clergy and judiciary,
and committing countless atrocities to seize power, all of
this required a figure of immense strength and influence.
But there was no such figure.

The thought of someone so insignificant pulling off such

horrors seemed laughable. The idea of this "dwarf"
attempting such a grand tragedy was dismissed as a joke.
People stopped saying, "What a crime!" and started
saying, "What a farce!" They realized that real criminals
need to have a certain stature. Major crimes require
someone with the experience of past victories and the
potential for future triumphs.

They asked, “Who is this son of Hortense?" The man they

were speaking of had no major accomplishments to back
him up. He had Strasbourg, not Arcola, and Boulogne, not
Austerlitz. His background was a mix of French, Dutch, and
Swiss heritage, and his rise to fame was mostly due to the
ridiculousness of his imperial persona.

This Bonaparte was seen as a poor imitation, a counterfeit

Napoleon. People believed French soldiers would never
follow him, seeing him as unfit for rebellion and atrocities.
Why would he even attempt such things? While some
were suspicious of him, they didn’t believe he was capable
of such grand crimes.

He had pledged his honor, after all, and claimed that no

one doubted his word. But some people warned that
crimes could be committed in different ways. There were
grand crimes like Caesar’s crossing of the Rubicon, and
small ones like Mandrin’s petty thefts.

Despite some doubts, they decided not to jump to

conclusions. He had been exiled and suffered misfortune,
and many believed that such experiences might have
made him wiser.

Louis Bonaparte, for his part, defended himself. He had

made promises and had facts to back him up. As a
presidential candidate in 1848, he had even gone to a
meeting where he declared, "Do I seem like a madman?

They think I want to bring back Napoleon."

There are two great men who could serve as role models:
Napoleon and Washington. Napoleon was a man of
genius, while Washington was a man of virtue. It’s
impossible to decide, “I will be a genius,” but it is possible
to say, “I will be a virtuous person.” Being a genius
depends on factors beyond our control, but being virtuous
is something we can choose.

What can I learn from Napoleon? Only one thing: a crime.

Is that a worthy goal? No. I don’t want to follow Napoleon.
I want to be an honest man, like Washington. Napoleon's
name will be remembered for both his crimes and his
glory, while Washington will be remembered for his honor
and integrity.

Perhaps Washington’s example is even more valuable.

Between a hero with a guilty past and a good citizen, I
choose to be the good citizen.

Between 1848 and 1851, many people had doubts about

Louis Bonaparte. However, suspicion often loses its
sharpness over time. Louis Bonaparte had both deceitful
ministers, like Magne and Rouher, and honest ones, like
Léon Faucher and Odilon Barrot, who said he was
trustworthy.
People saw him act sincerely, like when he showed
remorse at Ham, and his foster sister, Madame Hortense
Cornu, vouched for him.

His friend Peauger also believed he was loyal. Louis

Bonaparte had even written a book called Pauperism. He
claimed to support democracy and liberty, speaking
openly to those around him about his values. While some,
like the Marquis du Hallays, opposed the coup d'état,
others supported it.

Louis Bonaparte reassured both sides in private

conversations, and the Assembly, after some initial
concern, grew calm.

General Neumayer, who could be relied upon, was

positioned in Lyons and could march on Paris if needed.
Changarnier urged, "Representatives of the people,
deliberate in peace." Even Louis Bonaparte himself had
said, “Anyone who tries to change things by force is an
enemy of my country,” and the Army was seen as "force,"
with respected leaders like Lamoricière, Changarnier, and
Cavaignac.

How could anyone believe the Army would turn against its
own generals? On November 28, 1851, Louis Bonaparte
told Michel de Bourges, "If I wanted to do something
wrong, I couldn’t.

Yesterday, I asked five Colonels from the Paris garrison

about their stance on a coup. All of them said the Army
would never support such a thing or attack the Assembly."
Michel felt reassured and said, "I smiled too."

That same month, a satirical magazine was fined and jailed

for a caricature of Louis Bonaparte using the Constitution
as target practice.

Morigny, the Minister of the Interior, reminded the

President that public officials should never break the law.
The President replied, "Or they would be dishonest."
 These conversations made it clear to everyone that a
coup d'état was impossible. The idea of attacking the
National Assembly and arresting its members seemed
crazy. As we saw, even Charras, who had been cautious,
was now confident. The sense of security was widespread.
Yet, some in the Assembly still had doubts, and were
mocked for it.
 CHAPTER 2. - "Paris Sleeps -Bell Rings"

On December 2, 1851, Representative Versigny, a 32-year-

old scholar interested in social and economic issues, was
sound asleep in his Paris apartment. He had stayed up late
reading and making notes on a book by Bastiat.

Suddenly, around 7 a.m., a loud doorbell startled him

awake. Assuming it was a mistake, he ignored it, but a
second, louder ring forced him to get up. When he opened
the door, he found two pale and anxious men Michel de
Bourges, his neighbor, and Théodore Bac. They brought
alarming news: Baune, a fellow representative, had been
arrested that morning.

Michel explained that Baune's wife and daughter had

rushed to him after the arrest. Versigny, confused and
concerned, asked for clarification, but before they could
elaborate, the doorbell rang again, possibly bringing more
news.
When Versigny opened the door again, it was
Representative Pierre Lefranc, who revealed the shocking
news. "Do you know what's happening?" Lefranc asked.
"Yes, Baune is in prison," replied Michel.

"No," said Lefranc, "it’s the Republic that is imprisoned.

Have you seen the placards?"

Lefranc explained that posters had been put up all over

the city, and curious crowds were gathering to read them.
The posters contained a decree and two proclamations, all
printed on white paper.

This was the "blow",a coup against the Republic, which

Michel called a "crime." Shortly after, Laissac, another
local representative, arrived. He confirmed the arrests
made during the night and stressed the urgency of the
situation. The group decided they needed to act quickly
and inform Yvan, the Secretary of the Assembly, about the
events. They planned to organize an immediate meeting.
The remaining free Republican Representatives needed to
be warned and gathered immediately. Versigny
volunteered to inform Victor Hugo. At 8 a.m., while Hugo
was awake and working in bed, his servant announced
Versigny's arrival. Versigny entered and urgently
explained the dire situation. Hugo quickly got out of bed
and, after hearing about a planned meeting at Laissac's
residence, urged Versigny to notify other Representatives
without delay. Versigny left to spread the word.
 CHAPTER 3. - "What Happened During The Night"

Before June 1848, the area in front of the Invalides was

divided into eight large grassy areas, each surrounded by
wooden fences and bordered by two groves of trees. A
street ran through the area, and parallel to the Seine were
three more streets. Children often played on the lawns.

In the center of the plots was a pedestal that had

displayed various monuments over time: a bronze lion
from Venice, a marble statue of Louis XVIII, and a bust of
Lafayette.

After an attempt to take over the Palace of the

Constituent Assembly on June 22, 1848, General
Cavaignac ordered the construction of several long huts
on the Invalides esplanade, about 300 paces from the
Legislative Palace. These huts, which could hold 3,000 to
4,000 men, were used to house soldiers assigned to guard
the National Assembly.
 By December 1, 1851, the soldiers stationed there were
from the 6th and 42nd Regiments, led by Colonel
Garderens de Boisse and Colonel Espinasse. At night, a
battalion of infantry and thirty artillerymen guarded the
Assembly, along with a few troopers for additional service.

Two mortars and six cannons, along with ammunition,

were kept in a small courtyard. The military commandant
of the Palace reported to the Questors. Each night, the
Palace was locked like a fortress with sentries posted, and
only the assigned regiment could enter, as per special
instructions.

The Legislative Palace was guarded by a battalion from the

42nd Regiment. The session of December 1st, which was
peaceful and focused on discussing municipal law, ended
late with a vote. As M. Baze, one of the Questors, went to
cast his vote, a representative from the "Les Bancs
Elyséens" whispered to him, "Tonight, you will be carried
off."
 Warnings like this were common, and people had become
used to ignoring them. After the session, the Questors
called for the Special Commissary of Police to check on the
situation. President Dupin was present during the
meeting.

When questioned, the Commissary reported that his

agents had observed "dead calm" and assured there was
no danger. Despite this, when the Questors pressed him
for more details, President Dupin dismissively said, "Bah!"
and left the room.

On December 1st, around 3 PM, as General Leflô’s father-

in-law was walking across the boulevard in front of
Tortoni's, someone quickly passed him and whispered,
"Eleven o'clock - midnight."

This incident didn’t attract much attention at the

Questure, and some even laughed it off, as it had become
a usual occurrence. However, General Leflô stayed awake
at the Questure until after 1 AM, waiting for the
mentioned time to pass. Meanwhile, four messengers
worked outside the Assembly’s shorthand department,
delivering shorthand copies to the printing office and
bringing back proof-sheets to the Palace of the Assembly.

M. Hippolyte Prévost, the chief of the stenographic staff

and editor of the Moniteur’s musical section, was out
attending a performance at the Opéra Comique and didn’t
return until after midnight. The fourth messenger from
the Moniteur was waiting with the proof of the last
Assembly sitting.

M. Prévost corrected it, and the messenger was sent off.

It was just after 1 AM, and everything was quiet, with
everyone in the Palace asleep except for the guards.

At that time, a strange event took place. The Captain

Adjutant Major of the Guard approached the
Commandant and said, "The Colonel has sent for me. May
I go?" The Commandant, surprised, replied sharply, "Go,
but the Colonel shouldn’t disturb an officer on duty."
One of the guards, who didn’t understand, overheard the
Commandant pacing and muttering, "What on earth could
he want?"

Half an hour later, the Adjutant-Major returned. The

Commandant asked, "What did the Colonel want?"

The Adjutant replied, "Nothing, he just wanted to give me

tomorrow’s orders." The night wore on, and around 4 AM,
the Adjutant-Major came again."

Major," he said, "The Colonel has asked for me again."

"Again?"

the Commandant exclaimed. "This is getting strange, but

go."

The Adjutant-Major was responsible for giving

instructions to the sentries and could cancel them if
needed. After the Adjutant-Major left, the Major became
worried and decided to contact the Military Commandant
of the Palace.

He went upstairs to Colonel Niols' apartment, but Colonel

Niols had already gone to bed, and the attendants were in
their rooms. The Major, unfamiliar with the Palace,
wandered through the corridors and rang a door he
thought led to the Military Commandant’s room.

When no one answered, he returned downstairs without

speaking to anyone. Meanwhile, the Adjutant-Major
came back into the Palace, but the Major didn’t see him
again. The Adjutant stayed near the barred door at Place
Bourgogne, wrapped in his cloak, pacing the courtyard as
if waiting for someone.

At 5 AM, when the large clock in the dome struck, the

soldiers sleeping in the hut-camp before the Invalides
were suddenly awoken. Orders were quietly given in the
huts to arm the soldiers. Soon after, two regiments, the
6th and the 42nd, marched toward the Palace of the
Assembly with their knapsacks on. At the same time,
soldiers from all the barracks in Paris, led by their colonels,
quietly left their posts. Aides-de-camp and officers from
Louis Bonaparte, who had been placed in all the barracks,
oversaw this operation. The cavalry didn’t move until
nearly an hour after the infantry to avoid waking Paris
with the sound of horses’ hooves. M. de Persigny, who
had brought the order from the Elysée to arm the soldiers,
marched with the 42nd alongside Colonel Espinasse.
There’s a story in the army, still told today with a kind of
detached seriousness, that one colonel hesitated before
setting out with his regiment.

The emissary from the Elysée, seeing this, took a sealed

envelope from his pocket and said, "Colonel, I know this is
risky. Inside this envelope, there are a hundred thousand
francs in banknotes for any unforeseen expenses." The
envelope was accepted, and the regiment moved out.

On the evening of December 2nd, the colonel told a lady,

"This morning, I earned a hundred thousand francs and
my General's epaulets." The lady quickly showed him the
door. Xavier Durrieu, who later heard the story, sought
out this lady, and she confirmed it. She said, "Yes, I closed
the door on that scoundrel. He was a soldier, a traitor to
his flag, and dared to visit me! How could I let such a man
in? No!" She added, "And yet, I have nothing to lose."
Meanwhile, there was another mystery unfolding at the
Prefecture of Police. Late at night, anyone returning home
in the Cité might have noticed many street cabs parked in
various places around the Rue de Jerusalem. Starting at 11
PM, the Brigade of Surety and the eight hundred sergents
de ville had been kept at the Prefecture under the
pretense of helping refugees arriving in Paris from Genoa
and London. At 3 AM, a summons was sent to the 48
Commissaries of Paris and the suburbs, as well as to the
peace officers. An hour later, they all arrived and were led
into a separate room, kept apart as much as possible. At 5
AM, a bell rang in the Prefect’s office.

Prefect Maupas called the Commissaries in one by one,

revealed the plot to them, and assigned each person their
part in it. None refused, and many expressed their thanks.
The plan was to arrest 78 influential Democrats from their
homes, people feared by the Elysée for their potential
leadership in any uprisings. The more daring part of the
plan was to arrest 16 Representatives of the People from
their homes as well. For this task, they selected
Commissaries who seemed most willing to carry out such
a violent act. These Commissaries were assigned the
Representatives. Each Commissary had a specific person
to arrest. Sieur Courtille was assigned Charras, Sieur
Desgranges had Nadaud, Sieur Hubaut the elder had M.
Thiers, and Sieur Hubaut the younger was tasked with
General Bedeau. General Changarnier was assigned to
Lerat, and General Cavaignac to Colin. Sieur Dourlens took
Representative Valentin, Sieur Benoist took
Representative Miot, Sieur Allard took Representative
Cholat, and Sieur Barlet took Roger (Du Nord). General
Lamoricière was given to Commissary Blanchet,
Commissary Gronfier had Representative Greppo, and
Commissary Boudrot had Representative Lagrange. The
Questors were also assigned—Monsieur Baze to Sieur
Primorin, and General Leflô to Sieur Bertoglio. Warrants
for the Representatives’ arrests had been prepared in the
Prefect's private office, with blanks left for the names of
the Commissaries, which were filled in just before leaving.
In addition to the armed forces assisting them, each
Commissary was to be accompanied by two escorts—one
of sergents de ville and the other of plainclothes police
agents. As Prefect Maupas had told M. Bonaparte,
Baudinet, the Captain of the Republican Guard, was
assigned to work with Commissary Lerat to arrest General
Changarnier.

Around 5:30 AM, the waiting cabs were called, and each
Commissary set off with their specific instructions.
Meanwhile, in another part of Paris, at the old Rue du
Temple in the Soubise Mansion, which had been turned
into a Royal Printing Office (now the National Printing
Office), another part of the plan was being set in motion.

Around 1 AM, a passerby who had reached Rue du Temple

from Rue de Vieilles-Haudriettes noticed several brightly
lit windows. These were the workrooms of the National
Printing Office. He turned right into the old Rue du Temple
and stopped at the crescent-shaped entrance of the
printing office. The main door was closed, and two
sentinels stood guard at the side door. The passerby,
curious, peeked through the slightly open door into the
courtyard and saw it filled with soldiers. The soldiers were
silent, and although no sound could be heard, the
gleaming bayonets were visible. Surprised, the passerby
approached, but one of the sentinels roughly pushed him
back, shouting, "Get lost."
 Just like the sergents de ville at the Prefecture of Police,
the workers at the National Printing Office had been kept
there on the pretext of night work. At the same time that
M. Hippolyte Prévost returned to the Legislative Palace,
the manager of the National Printing Office also came
back from the Opéra Comique, where he had been
watching a new play by his brother, M. de St. Georges.
Upon his return, the manager, who had received an order
from the Elysée earlier in the day, grabbed a pair of pocket
pistols and went down into the vestibule, which led to the
courtyard. Not long after, the door to the street opened,
and a fiacre drove in. A man carrying a large portfolio got
out. The manager approached him and asked, "Is that you,
Monsieur de Béville?" "Yes," the man replied.

The fiacre was put away, the horses were stabled, and the
coachman was taken to a parlor, given a drink, and handed
a purse. The coachman drank and then fell asleep. The
door to the parlor was bolted shut. As soon as the large
door to the courtyard of the printing office closed, it
opened again to allow armed men to enter silently. The
new arrivals were a company of Gendarmerie Mobile, the
fourth company of the first battalion, led by Captain La
Roche d'Oisy. As shown by the outcome, for secret
operations, the people behind the coup made sure to use
the Gendarmerie Mobile and the Republican Guard—two
groups mostly made up of former Municipal Guards who
still held a grudge over the events of February Captain La
Roche d'Oisy brought a letter from the Minister of War,
which put him and his soldiers at the service of the
manager of the National Printing Office.

The soldiers loaded their muskets in silence. Sentinels

were positioned in the workrooms, corridors, doors, and
windows—essentially everywhere, with two guards at the
door leading to the street. The captain asked what
instructions he should give the sentries. The man who had
arrived in the fiacre, De Béville, M. Bonaparte's orderly
officer, replied, "Nothing simpler.

If anyone tries to leave or open a window, shoot them."

De Béville then left with the manager to a large, isolated
room on the first floor that overlooked the garden. In that
room, De Béville gave the manager several important
documents: the decree dissolving the Assembly, the
appeal to the Army, the appeal to the People, the decree
calling for elections, and also the proclamation from
Prefect Maupas and his letter to the Commissaries of
Police. The first four documents were handwritten by the
President, and a few changes or corrections could be seen.
The compositors were ready to work. Each man was
placed between two gendarmes and was ordered not to
speak. The documents were cut into small pieces, so no
one worker could read an entire sentence.

The manager said they would have one hour to assemble

everything. Once the pieces were collected, they were
handed to Colonel Béville, who put them together and
corrected the proofs. The printing was done with the same
caution, with each press guarded by two soldiers.

Despite all efforts to be quick, the work took two hours.

The gendarmes watched the workers, and Béville kept an
eye on St. Georges. After the work was finished, a
suspicious event occurred, one that seemed like an act of
betrayal within betrayal. This type of crime is often filled
with such dangers.
Béville and St. Georges, the two trusted men who knew
the secret of the coup d'état—specifically, the President's
plan—decided to share it with two hundred men. Their
reasoning, as Béville later admitted, was to "test the
effect." They read the secret document to the Gendarmes
Mobiles, who were lined up in the courtyard. The former
municipal guards applauded.

If they had booed, it’s unclear what Béville and St. Georges
would have done. Perhaps M. Bonaparte would have been
jolted out of his plans at Vincennes. The coachman was
then freed, the fiacre was prepared, and at 4 AM, Béville
and the manager of the National Printing Office—now
both criminals—arrived at the Prefecture of Police with
the parcels containing the decrees.

This marked the beginning of their disgrace. Prefect

Maupas took the two men by the hand. Groups of bill-
stickers, bribed for the occasion, spread out in every
direction, carrying the decrees and proclamations. This
was exactly when the Palace of the National Assembly was
being surrounded. In the Rue de l'Université, there was a
door to the Palace, the old entrance to the Palais Bourbon,
which opened onto the avenue leading to the President of
the Assembly’s house. This door, called the Presidency
door, was usually guarded by a sentry.

For some time, the Adjutant-Major, who had been called

by Colonel Espinasse twice during the night, had stayed
silent and still next to the sentry.

Five minutes later, the 42nd Regiment of the line,

followed at a distance by the 6th Regiment, marched from
the Rue de l'Université. "The regiment," an eyewitness
said, "walked as if it were in a sickroom."

It arrived quietly in front of the Presidency door. The

sentry saw the soldiers coming and was about to stop
them, but the Adjutant-Major grabbed his arm. As the
officer in charge of changing orders, he told the sentry to
let the 42nd pass and ordered the confused porter to open
the door. The door opened, and the soldiers entered the
avenue. Persigny entered and said, "It’s done."
 The National Assembly was now invaded. Hearing the
noise, Commandant Mennier rushed over.
"Commandant," Colonel Espinasse shouted, "I’m here to
relieve your battalion."

The Commandant turned pale, his eyes fixed on the

ground. Then, suddenly, he ripped off his epaulets, broke
his sword in half, threw the pieces on the ground, and
angrily said, "Colonel, you disgrace your regiment." "All
right, all right," Espinasse replied.

The Presidency door stayed open, but all the other

entrances were locked. All the guards were replaced, and
the night guard battalion was sent back to the Invalides
camp. The soldiers stacked their weapons in the avenue
and the Cour d'Honneur. The 42nd Regiment, in complete
silence, took positions outside and inside the doors, in the
courtyard, reception rooms, galleries, corridors, and
hallways. They were everywhere. "How these men of the
Mountain slander the President!"
someone muttered. "A man who would break his oath
and carry out a coup d'état must be a worthless person."

Awakened suddenly in the middle of the night and

removed from his post as Minister, the stunned man
rubbed his eyes and muttered, "Eh! Then the President is
a --." "Yes," Morny laughed.

I know Morny well. He and Walewsky were part of the

family that was almost in power: one being a royal bastard
and the other an imperial one. So, who was Morny?

He was a witty man, an intriguer, not at all serious, a

friend of Romieu, and a supporter of Guizot. He had the
manners of the upper class and the habits of the roulette
table, self-assured, clever, and a mix of liberal ideas with
a willingness to commit useful crimes. He had a smile that
hid bad teeth and led a life of pleasure—dissipated but
reserved, ugly but good-natured, fierce yet well-dressed,
brave, willing to leave a brother in prison, but ready to risk
his life for another brother who was an Emperor. He was
the same mother as Louis Bonaparte and, like him, had a
father of some sort. He could call himself Beauharnais or
Flahaut, but he chose to call himself Morny. He pursued
light comedy in literature and tragedy in politics, a heavy
drinker, frivolous but capable of assassination. He was
elegant, infamous, and charming, a perfect duke when
needed. That was Morny.

It was not yet six o'clock in the morning. Troops began

gathering in the Place de la Concorde, where Leroy-Saint-
Arnaud, on horseback, held a review. The Police
Commissaries, Bertoglio and Primorin, arranged two
companies under the large staircase of the Questure but
didn’t go up. They were accompanied by police agents
who knew the secret areas of the Palais Bourbon, guiding
them through various passages.

General Leflô was stationed in the Pavilion that, in the

time of the Duc de Bourbon, had been used by Monsieur
Feuchères. That night, General Leflô had his sister and her
husband staying with him in Paris. They slept in a room
whose door led to one of the corridors of the Palace.
Commissary Bertoglio knocked, opened the door, and
with his agents, rushed into the room, where a woman
was in bed. The general's brother-in-law jumped out of
bed and shouted to the Questor, who was in an adjoining
room, "Adolphe, the doors are being forced, the Palace is
full of soldiers. Get up!"

The General awoke, saw Commissary Bertoglio by his bed,

and jumped up. "General," said Bertoglio, "I have come to
fulfill a duty."

"I understand," the General replied. "You are a traitor."

Bertoglio, stumbling over his words, mentioned
something about a "plot against the safety of the State"
and showed a warrant. Without saying a word, the
General struck the paper with the back of his hand.

After dressing, he put on his full uniform, thinking of the

soldiers from Africa who might still be loyal to him. In his
mind, all the generals remaining were now nothing more
than brigands. His wife embraced him, while his young
son, only seven years old, in his nightshirt and in tears,
pleaded with the Commissary of Police, "Mercy, Monsieur
Bonaparte." The General, holding his wife tightly,
whispered in her ear, "There’s artillery in the courtyard;
try to fire a cannon."

The Commissary and his men took him away. He showed

contempt for the policemen, not speaking to them, but
when he recognized Colonel Espinasse, his military and
Breton heart swelled with anger. "Colonel Espinasse," he
said, "you are a villain, and I hope to live long enough to
tear the buttons from your uniform."

Espinasse, hanging his head, stammered, "I do not know

you." A major waved his sword and cried, "We’ve had
enough of lawyer generals."

Soldiers crossed their bayonets in front of the unarmed

prisoner, and three sergents de ville pushed him into a
fiacre. A sub-lieutenant approached the carriage, looked
at the man who, as a citizen, was his Representative, and
as a soldier, his General, and spat, "Canaille!" Meanwhile,
Commissary Primorin took a more indirect route to
surprise the other Questor, M. Baze. A door in Baze’s
apartment led to the lobby of the Assembly chamber.
Primorin knocked. "Who is there?" asked the servant, who
was dressing. "The Commissary of Police," replied
Primorin.

The servant, thinking he was the Assembly's Commissary,

opened the door. At that moment, M. Baze, just
awakened and wearing a dressing gown, shouted, "Do not
open the door!" But it was too late.

A man in plain clothes, along with three sergents de ville,

rushed in. The man opened his coat to reveal his official
scarf and asked, "Do you recognize this?"

"You are a worthless wretch," answered Baze. The police

agents seized Baze. "You will not take me away," he
declared. "You, a Commissary of Police, a magistrate,
know what you are doing. You violate the National
Assembly, break the law, and are a criminal!" A violent
struggle broke out four against one with Madame Baze
and their two daughters screaming as the servant was
shoved back by blows from the sergents de ville. "You are
ruffians!" cried out Monsieur Baze as they forcibly carried
him away, still struggling.

His body was battered, his dressing gown torn to shreds,

and his wrist was bleeding. The stairs, the landing, and the
courtyard were filled with soldiers, all holding fixed
bayonets and grounded arms. M. Baze spoke to them, his
voice defiant. "Your Representatives are being arrested,
but you have not been given arms to break the laws!"

He spotted a sergeant with a newly awarded cross and

pointed at him. "Have you received that cross for this?"

The sergeant responded, "We only know one master."

"I note your number," Baze retorted, "You are a

dishonored regiment." The soldiers listened with an
impassive air, appearing as though they were still in a
deep slumber. Commissary Primorin quickly intervened,
"Do not answer him, this has nothing to do with you."
They continued to drag Baze across the courtyard, leading
him to the guard-house at the Porte Noire, a small door
beneath the archway opposite the Assembly's treasury.
This door opened onto the Rue de Bourgogne, facing the
Rue de Lille. Several sentries stood at the door of the
guard-house, and at the top of the stairs leading up to it,
M. Baze was left in the custody of three sergents de ville.
Several soldiers, dressed in shirt-sleeves and without their
weapons, came in and out of the area, while M. Baze, still
shaken, appealed to them in the name of military honor.

"Do not answer," commanded the sergeant de ville to the

soldiers. M. Baze’s two young daughters, full of fear, had
followed him, and as they lost sight of him, the younger
one broke into tears. "Sister," the elder, just seven years
old, said, "let us say our prayers." They knelt down
together, hands clasped.

Meanwhile, Commissary Primorin and his agents stormed

M. Baze's study, rifling through everything. The first
papers they seized were the infamous decrees that had
been prepared in case the Assembly voted on the proposal
by the Questors. All drawers were flung open and
searched. This "domiciliary visit" went on for over an hour.
Once the search was over, M. Baze, now dressed, was
taken out of the guard-house. A fiacre awaited him in the
courtyard. He entered, accompanied by the three
sergents de ville, and the vehicle moved toward the
Presidency door.

As day broke, M. Baze glanced out at the courtyard. He

saw ammunition wagons arranged in order, with their
shafts raised, but the six cannons and two mortars were
gone. The fiacre briefly stopped in the Avenue of the
Presidency. Soldiers, standing at ease, lined the footpaths,
while three men Colonel Espinasse, whom M. Baze
recognized, a Lieutenant-Colonel with a black and orange
ribbon, and a Major of Lancers consulted together, their
swords drawn.

The fiacre windows were closed, but M. Baze attempted

to lower them, hoping to appeal to these men. Before he
could, the sergents de ville seized his arms. Commissary
Primorin approached, ready to re-enter the smaller
carriage that had brought him.
"Monsieur Baze," he said, his tone laced with false
courtesy, "You must be uncomfortable in that fiacre.
Come with me instead."
 "Let me alone," M. Baze replied firmly, unwilling to
comply. As the fiacre (horse-drawn carriage) moved
through the streets, Colonel Espinasse instructed the
coachman to drive slowly along the Quai d'Orsay until they
met a cavalry escort. Once the cavalry took over, the
infantry could leave.

As they traveled, the fiacre was surrounded by a group of

cavalrymen, and the journey continued without incident.
Passersby, hearing the horses, looked out their windows,
curious about what was happening. When the fiacre
finally stopped, M. Baze asked where they were, and the
response was "At Mazas," a well-known prison.

Upon arriving, M. Baze saw Baune and Nadaud being

taken away. Inside, Commissary Primorin was writing at a
table, and M. Baze noticed a register with the names of
notable figures, probably in the order they arrived at the
prison.
After the Commissary finished writing, M. Baze insisted on
submitting a protest, but the Commissary told him it was
not an official report.

M. Baze was determined to write his protest then and

there, to which a man by the table (who identified himself
as the prison governor) replied that M. Baze would have
plenty of time in his cell.

M. Baze responded, pitying the governor, for he knew the

wrong he was committing by following these orders. The
man turned pale and stammered, unable to speak clearly.

The Commissary stood up, but M. Baze quickly sat in his

chair and demanded that Sieur Primorin add his protest to
the official report. The Commissary agreed, and M. Baze
wrote the following protest: "I, Jean-Didier Baze,
Representative of the People and Questor of the National
Assembly, was violently taken from my home in the
National Assembly Palace and brought here to this prison
by armed forces I could not resist.
I protest, in the name of the National Assembly and
myself, against this attack on national representation and
the unjust treatment of my colleagues and me." The
protest was dated December 2, 1851, at 8 a.m.

Meanwhile, outside at the Assembly, soldiers were

laughing and drinking in the courtyard. They were making
coffee in saucepans and had started large fires, with
flames reaching the walls of the Chamber.

A National Guard officer, Ramond de la Croisette, warned

them they might set the Palace on fire, but a soldier struck
him in response. Some artillery pieces were positioned to
protect the Assembly, aimed at key points around the
area.

The 42nd Regiment of the line had previously arrested

Louis Bonaparte in Boulogne in 1840 for his conspiracy. In
1851, however, the same regiment helped Louis
Bonaparte in his actions against the law. This shows the
power of blind obedience.
 CHAPTER 4. - "Other Doings Of The Night"

That night, across Paris, acts of violence took place. Armed

men, carrying weapons like hatchets, mallets, crowbars,
pistols, and swords hidden under their coats, quietly
arrived at various houses. They blocked the streets, broke
in, tied up the porter, and forced their way inside. When
one of the men, startled, asked, "Who are you?"

their leader would respond, "A Commissary of Police."

This happened to several individuals, including
Lamoricière, who was threatened by Blanchet, and
Greppo, who was beaten by Gronfier and six other men.

Cavaignac was arrested by Colin, who pretended to be

shocked by his curses. M. Thiers was taken by Hubaut (the
elder), who lied, claiming to have seen him "tremble and
weep." Valentin was dragged from his bed by Dourlens
and thrown into a police van. Miot faced torture in African
casemates, while Roger (du Nord) humorously offered
sherry to the bandits. Charras and Changarnier were also
caught by surprise.
They lived near each other in Rue St. Honoré. Since
September 9th, Changarnier had dismissed the armed
guards that had protected him, and Charras had unloaded
his pistols on December 1st. The unloaded pistols were on
the table when the police arrived, and the Commissary of
Police grabbed them. Charras called him an "idiot,"
warning that if the pistols had been loaded, he would have
been dead.

These pistols had been given to Charras after the battle of

Mascara by General Renaud, who was involved in the
coup d’état at the time. If the pistols had been loaded, it
would have been ironic if General Renaud himself had
been killed by his own guns. Charras would certainly not
have hesitated if the situation had been different.

We've already mentioned the names of the police officers

involved, so there's no need to repeat them. It was
Courtille who arrested Charras, Lerat who arrested
Changarnier, and Desgranges who arrested Nadaud.
These men, taken from their own homes, were
Representatives of the People and should have been
protected by law.

So, in addition to the personal violation, there was also

the crime of breaching the Constitution. The police agents
showed no shame in their actions. Some of them even
joked about the situation. At Mazas, the under-jailors
mocked Thiers, and Nadaud scolded them. Sieur Hubaut
(the younger) woke General Bedeau, telling him, "General,
you are a prisoner."

Bedeau replied, "My person is inviolable."

Hubaut responded, "Unless you're caught in the act."

Bedeau, who had been sleeping, said, "Well, I'm caught in

the act of sleeping."

They grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a

fiacre (carriage). When they met at Mazas, Nadaud shook
hands with Greppo, and Lagrange shook hands with
Lamoricière. This amused the police officers.

A colonel named Thirion, who wore a commander's cross,

helped arrest the Generals and Representatives. Charras
challenged him, saying, "Look me in the face." Thirion
avoided him. By the end of the night on December 2nd,
sixteen Representatives and seventy-eight citizens had
been imprisoned.

The two men responsible for the crime reported the

arrests to Louis Bonaparte. Morny wrote "Boxed up," and
Maupas wrote "Quadded." One used fancy language, the
other the harsh language of the prisons. These were small
but telling differences in how they described the same
event.
 CHAPTER 5. - "The Darkness Of The Crime"

Versigny had just left, and while I hurriedly dressed, a man

I trusted came in. His name was Girard, a poor, out-of-
work cabinet-maker whom I had given shelter. He was
shaking.

"What do the people say?" I asked him.

Girard replied, "People are confused. The blow was struck

so suddenly that they don't fully understand it.

Workers read the posters, say nothing, and keep working.

Only one in a hundred speaks, and they say, 'Good!' To
them, the law of May 31st is gone 'Well done!' Universal
suffrage is back 'Also well done!' The reactionaries are
gone 'Admirable!' Thiers is arrested 'Capital!' Changarnier
is seized 'Bravo!'
People gather around the posters, and Ratapoil explains
the coup to them. They take it all in. In short, the people
seem to approve."

"Let it be so," I said.

"But what will you do, Monsieur Victor Hugo?" Girard

asked.

I showed him my office scarf, and he understood. We

shook hands.

As Girard left, Colonel Carini entered. Carini was a brave

man, having led cavalry under Mieroslawsky during the
Sicilian insurrection. He had written passionately about
that noble revolt. Carini loved France deeply, just as we
love Italy.

"Thank God," he said, "you're still free. The blow has been
struck powerfully. The Assembly is surrounded. I’ve just
come from there. The Place de la Révolution, the Quays,
the Tuileries, the boulevards are full of soldiers. The
soldiers have their knapsacks, and the batteries are ready.
If there’s fighting, it will be fierce."

I replied, "There will be fighting," and jokingly added,

"You’ve shown that colonels write like poets, now it's the
poets' turn to fight like colonels."

I then went to my wife's room. She didn’t know what was

happening and was calmly reading her paper in bed. I had
taken about five hundred francs in gold with me. I left a
box containing nine hundred francs, the rest of my money,
on my wife’s bed and explained what had happened.

She turned pale and asked, "What will you do?"

"My duty," I replied.

She hugged me and simply said, "Do it." I quickly ate my

breakfast just a cutlet in two bites. Afterward, my
daughter came in. She was surprised by the way I kissed
her and asked, "What’s wrong?"

I told her, "Your mother will explain to you," and then I

left.

The Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne was as quiet as always. I

saw four workmen near my door who greeted me. I asked,
"Do you know what’s happening?"

They said yes.

I replied, "It’s treason! Louis Bonaparte is destroying the

Republic. The people are under attack. They must defend
themselves." "They will defend themselves,"they assured
me. "You promise me?" I asked. "Yes," they said. One of
them added, "We swear it."

True to their word, barricades were built in my street (Rue

de la Tour d'Auvergne), in Rue des Martyrs, Cité Rodier,
Rue Coquenard, and at Notre-Dame de Lorette.
 CHAPTER 6. - "Placards"

After leaving those brave men, I saw the three terrible

placards posted at the corner of the Rue de la Tour
d'Auvergne and Rue des Martyrs. They had been put up
overnight across Paris. Here’s what they said:

"PROCLAMATION OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC.

Appeal to the People.

FRENCHMEN!

The current situation cannot continue. Every passing day

makes the dangers to the country greater. The Assembly,
which should be the strongest support of order, has
become a source of conspiracies. The patriotism of three
hundred of its members hasn’t stopped its harmful
actions.
Instead of working for the public’s good, it’s preparing for
civil war, attacking my power, which comes directly from
the People. It encourages bad passions and threatens
France's peace. I have dissolved the Assembly and now the
whole People must decide between it and me.

The Constitution, as you know, was created to weaken the

power that was given to me. Six million votes opposed it,
yet I have respected it. I’ve remained unaffected by
provocations and insults. But now, when the very men
who constantly invoke the Constitution are no longer
respecting it, and those who are supposed to be its
defenders are attacking it, I can no longer stay silent."

While reading these placards, M. Pataille and M. Martin (a

former member of the Constituent Assembly from
Strasbourg) arrived at M. Hardouin's office. M. Pataille
had just made himself available to M. Hardouin.

Martin immediately thought of the High Court. M.

Hardouin led M. Pataille to another room and privately
spoke with Martin, who urged him to convene the High
Court.

M. Hardouin hesitated, saying the Court would "do its

duty" but needed to "consult with colleagues" first, adding
that it would be done either today or tomorrow.

Martin, deeply concerned, replied, "Mr. President, the

safety of the Republic, maybe even the safety of the
country, depends on the High Court's actions. Your
responsibility is immense. The Court must act
immediately, without delay or hesitation."

Martin was right: justice demands prompt action.