Tuesday, the 22nd of February, the birthday of the immortal Washington and the first of the Three Days of the French Revolution of 1848, broke darkly and gloomily on Paris. The night had been tempestuous, and the wind still drove the sleet through the leafless trees of the Champs-Elysées and howled drearily along the cheerless boulevards.
The streets were dismal, desolate and deserted. Here and there, however, through the gray light of the winter dawn, could be caught the semblance of a figure closely muffled, whether for concealment, disguise, or protection from the biting blast was doubtful, stealing along; these figures often met and exchanged ominous signs of recognition.
"Is the procession still to take place?" asked one of another of these persons, pausing for an instant as they hurried along.
"Yes!" was the emphatic answer. "Dupont, Lamartine and the sixteen others who are faithful are resolute."
"And the rendezvous?"
"Is the Place de La Concorde."
"And the hour?"
"Twelve."
Whereupon the conspirators parted.
Gradually the number of persons in the streets increased as the morning advanced. Chiefly, these were artisans, lads, blouses and workmen.
"Whither so early this disagreeable morning?" cried a peaceable-looking shopman of the Rue de Rivoli, who was taking down his shutters for the day, to a friend who was hurrying by.
"I don't exactly know where I am going," was the reply. "We were all roused at daybreak in the Quartier St. Honoré by the rappel, and so I happen to be awake."
"And are the National Guard turning out in good numbers?"
"No. They don't turn out at all. The drummers are followed by a crowd of gamins in blouses, who shout Vive la Réforme and sing the Marseillaise."
"The National Guard don't turn out!" cried the alarmed shopman; "then I'll not take down my shutters!"
And as his friend moved on to the Madeleine, he took the precautionary measure he had spoken of.
At nine o'clock troops were in motion all over Paris, and the roll of the drum was heard in every street.
At ten o'clock ten thousand men were assembled at the Madeleine.
"Is there to be a banquet?" asked one of another, as they met on the Rue Royale.
"No. It is a procession. The people are to march to the Chamber of Deputies and sing the Marseillaise."
All the avenues to the Palais Bourbon and part of the Place around the Madeleine were now occupied by the 21st Regiment of the Line and mounted Municipal Guards. Before the Chamber of Deputies was marshaled a squadron of dragoons, and a battalion of the 69th Regiment of Cuirassiers stood ready to charge on the throng.