the hotel of the rights of man

as coster de saint-victor had announced, barras had been appointed about one o'clock in the morning commander of the forces within and without paris, and all civil and military authorities were placed under his orders.

this choice did not deserve coster de saint-victor's derision. barras was brave, cool, and devoted to the cause of liberty, and at toulon he had given irrefutable proofs of his bravery and patriotism. he did not deceive himself in regard to the danger of the situation, and the terrible responsibility which rested upon his shoulders. nevertheless, he remained perfectly calm. even while pushing his appointment with all his might, he had known of an auxiliary, unknown to all others, upon whom he could rely.

he therefore left the tuileries immediately after his nomination, attired in a long dark overcoat, and hesitated a moment whether to take a carriage or not; but thinking that a carriage would attract notice and might be stopped, he drew a large pair of pistols from his pocket, and contented himself with securing them in his deputy's sash beneath his overcoat. then he set off on foot through the echelle wicket. he went along the rue traversière, passed the palais royal, followed the rue neuve-des-petits-champs[pg 307] for a few steps, and found himself opposite the rue des fosses-montmartre. it had been pouring in torrents during all this time.

everything was in frightful confusion, a fact of which barras was well aware. he knew that the artillery was still in the camp at sablons, and that it was guarded by one hundred and fifty men only. he also knew that there were only eighty thousand cartridges in the magazine, and that there were no provisions and no brandy. he knew that all communication with the staff, who had their headquarters on the boulevard des capucines, was cut off by the sectionists of the club le peletier, who had extended their line of sentinels from the rue des filles de saint-thomas as far as the rue saint-pierre-montmartre and the place vend?me. he was aware of the exasperated pride of the sectionists, who, as we have seen, had raised the standard of revolt; he knew of the expedition of the preceding day, so shamefully conducted by menou, and so vigorously received by morgan, which had doubled their actual strength and quadrupled their moral strength.

on all sides the report was rife that this section, hemmed in by thirty thousand conventionals, had overawed them by their courage, and had repulsed them, and forced them to shameful retreat by the skilful disposition of their troops.

every one spoke of the audacity which morgan had displayed in placing himself between the two troops, of his lofty air, and that hauteur with which he had addressed general menou and representative laporte. it was whispered, but whispered with the greatest precautions, that he was a great personage, a very great personage, who had only returned to paris some three or four days before, bearing letters of the highest recommendation to the royalist committees in paris from the royalist committees in london.

the convention was already no longer hated; it was despised. and, in truth, what had the sections to fear from it, spared because of its weakness? they had united during the night of the 11th, and on the 12th had sent de[pg 308]tachments to support the mother section. they therefore felt that the national convention would be annihilated, and were prepared to sing the de profundis over its corpse.

thus, on his way across paris, barras was constantly confronted by one or another of those sections which had come to the assistance of the mother section, and who accosted him thus: "who goes there?"

to which he replied: "a sectionist."

at every few steps he met a drummer beating a mournful recall or general on his relaxed drum, the lugubrious and sinister sound of his mournful performance being better suited to a funeral procession than to their actual purpose. furthermore, men were seen gliding through the streets like shadows, knocking at doors, and calling upon other men to arm and repair to the sections to defend their wives and children, whose throats the terrorists had sworn to cut. perhaps these attempts would have been less successful in broad daylight; but the mystery which clings to deeds of the night, entreaties in low tones, as if in fear lest assassins should overhear the whispered communication, the mournful and incessant beating of the drums and the ringing of the bells—all this caused anxiety and trepidation throughout the city, and foretold something indefinite but terrible that was impending.

barras saw and heard all that. he was no longer judging of the city from mere reports; he was feeling its pulse with his own finger. thus when he left the rue neuve-des-petits-champs, he hastened his steps almost to a run as he fled across the place des victoires; then gliding along the rue fosses-montmartre, keeping in the shadow of the houses, he finally reached the door of the little hotel of "the rights of man." having gone thus far, he stopped and took a few steps backward, in order to read the sign which he sought by the fitful light of the lamp; after which, approaching the door, he rapped vigorously with the knocker.

a man-servant was in attendance, and he, probably[pg 309] judging from the vigorous knocking that some one of importance was without, did not keep him waiting long. the door opened cautiously.

barras slipped through the opening and shut the door behind him. then, without waiting to enlighten the servant as to the cause of all these precautions, he asked: "citizen bonaparte lodges here, does he not?"

"yes, citizen."

"is he at home?"

"he returned about an hour ago."

"where is his room?"

"no. 47, on the fourth floor at the end of the corridor."

"right or left?"

"left."

"thanks."

barras hastened up the stairs, soon reaching the top of the four flights, took the corridor to the left, and stopped before the door of no. 47. once there, he knocked three times.

"come in," said a curt voice, which seemed made to command.

barras turned the handle and entered. he found himself in a room furnished with a curtainless bed, two tables, one large and the other small, four chairs and a globe. a sword and a pair of pistols hung on the wall. a young man, completely dressed, except for his uniform, was seated at the smaller of the two tables, studying a plan of paris by the light of the lamp.

at the sound of the opening door, the occupant of the room turned half-way around in his chair to see who the unexpected visitor, who came at such an hour, could be. as he sat thus the lamp lighted three-quarters of his face, leaving the rest in shade.

he was about twenty-three or four, with an olive complexion, somewhat lighter at the temples and forehead. his straight black hair was parted in the middle and fell down below his ears. his eagle eye, straight nose and[pg 310] strong chin and lower jaw, increasing in size as it approached his ears, left no doubt as to the trend of his abilities. he was a man of war, belonging to the race of conquerors. seen thus, and lighted in this way, his face looked like a bronze medallion. he was so thin that all the bones in his face were plainly discernible.