Part 32

The central government (then directed, it must be allowed, by the Gironde party) placed Bailly under surveillance. Every eight days the venerable academician was obliged to present himself at the house of the Syndic Procurator of the Departmental Administration of the Lower-Loire, like a vile malefactor, whose every footstep it would be to the interest of society to watch. What was the true motive for such a strange measure? This secret has been buried in a tomb where I shall not allow myself to dig for it.

Though painful to me to say so, the odious assimilation of Bailly to a dangerous criminal had not exhausted the rancour of his enemies. A letter from Roland, the Minister of the Interior, announced very dryly to the unfortunate proscribed man, that the apartments in the Louvre, which his family had occupied for upwards of half a century, had been withdrawn from him. They had even proceeded so far as to furnish a tipstaff with the order to clear the rooms.

A short time before this epoch, Bailly had found himself obliged to sell his house at Chaillot. The old Mayor of Paris then had no longer a hearth or a home in the great city which had been the late scene of his devotion, his solicitude, and his sacrifices. When this reflection occurred to his mind, his eyes filled with tears.

But the grief that Bailly experienced on seeing himself the daily object of odious persecutions, left his patriotic convictions intact. Vainly did they endeavour several times to transform a legitimate hatred towards individuals into an antipathy towards principles. They still remember in Brittany the debate raised, by one of these attempts, between our colleague and a Vendean physician, Dr. Blin. Never, in the season of his greatest popularity, did the president of the National Assembly express himself with more vivacity; never had he defended our first revolution with more eloquence. Not long since, in the same place, I pointed out to public attention another of our colleagues (Condorcet), who already under the blow of a capital condemnation, devoted his last moments to restore to the light of day the principles of eternal justice, which the fashions and the follies of men had but too much obscured. At a time of weak or interested convictions, and disgraceful capitulations of conscience, those two examples of unchangeable convictions deserved to be remarked. I am happy in having found them in the bosom of the Academy of Sciences.

Tranquillity of mind is not less requisite than vigour of intellect, to those who undertake great works. Thus during his residence at Nantes, Bailly did not even try to add to his numerous scientific or literary productions. This celebrated astronomer passed his time in reading novels. He sometimes said with a bitter smile: "My day has been well occupied; since I got up, I have put myself in a position to give an analysis of the two, or of the three first volumes of the new novel that the reading-room has just received." From time to time these abstractions were of a more elevated tone; he owed them to two young persons, who having reached an advanced age may now be listening to my words. Bailly discoursed with them of Homer, of Plato, of Aristotle, of the principal works in our literature, of the rapid progress of the sciences, and chiefly of those of astronomy. What our colleague chiefly appreciated in these two young friends, was a true sensibility, and great warmth of feeling. I know that years have not effaced or weakened these rare qualities in the bosoms of those two Bretons. M. Pariset, our colleague, and M. Villenave, will therefore think it natural in me to thank them here, in the name of science and literature, in the name of humanity, for the few moments of sweet peace and happiness that they afforded to our learned colleague, at a time when the inconstancy and ingratitude of men were lacerating his heart.

Louis XVI. had perished; dark clouds hung over the horizon; some acts of odious brutality showed our proscribed philosopher how little he must thenceforward depend on public sympathy; how much times had changed since the memorable meeting (of the 7th of October, 1791), at which the National Assembly decided that the bust of Bailly should be placed in the hall of their meetings! The storm appeared near and very menacing; even persons usually of little foresight were meditating where to find shelter.

During these transactions, Charles Marquis de Casaux, known by various productions on literature and on economical politics, went and requested our colleague, together with his wife, to take a passage on board a ship that he had freighted for himself and his family. "We will first go to England," said M. Casaux; "we will then, if you prefer it, pass our exile in America. Have no anxiety, I have property; I can, without inconvenience to myself, undertake all the expenses. Pythagoras said: 'In solitude the wise man worships echo;' but this no longer suffices in France; the wise man must fly from a land that threatens to devour its children."

These warm solicitations, and the prayers of his weeping companion, could not shake the firm resolution of Bailly. "From the day that I became a public character," he said, "my fate has become irrevocably united with that of France; never will I quit my post in the moment of danger. Under any circumstances my country may depend on my devotion. Whatever may happen, I shall remain."

By regulating his conduct on such fine generous maxims, a citizen does himself honour, but he exposes himself to fall under the blows of faction.

Bailly was still at Nantes on the 30th of June, 1793, when eighty thousand Vendeans, commanded by Cathelineau and Charette, went to besiege that city.

Let us imagine to ourselves the position of the President of the sitting of the "Jeu de Paume," of the first Mayor of Paris, in a city besieged by the Vendeans! We cannot presume that the unfavourable opinion of the Convention under which he was labouring, and the rigorous surveillance to which he was subjected, would have saved him from harsh treatment if the town had been taken. No one can therefore be surprised that after the victory of Nanteans, our colleague hastened to follow out his project, formed a short time before, of withdrawing from the insurgent provinces.

Up to the beginning of July 1793, Melun had enjoyed perfect tranquillity. Bailly knew it through M. de Laplace, who, living retired in that chief town of the department, was there composing the immortal work in which the wonders of the heavens are studied with so much depth and genius. He also knew that the great geometer, hoping to be still more retired in a cottage on the banks of the Seine, and out of the town, was going to dispose of his house in Melun. It is easy to guess that Bailly would be charmed with the prospect of residing far away from political agitation, and near to his illustrious friend!

The arrangements were promptly made, and on the 6th of July, M. and Madame Bailly quitted Nantes in company with M. and Madame Villenave, who were going to Rennes.

At this same time, a division of the revolutionary army was marching to Melun. As soon as the terrible news was known, Madame Laplace wrote to Bailly, persuading him, under covert expressions, to give up the intended project. The house, she said, is at the water's edge: there is extreme dampness in the rooms: Madame Bailly would die there. A letter so different from those that had preceded it, could not fail of its effect; such at least was the hope with which M. and Madame Laplace flattered themselves, when about the end of July they perceived, with inexpressible alarm, Bailly crossing the garden path. "Great God, you did not then understand our last letter!" exclaimed at the same instant our colleague's two friends. "I understood perfectly," Bailly replied with the greatest calm; "but on the one hand, the two servants who followed me to Nantes, having heard that I was going to be imprisoned, quitted me; on the other hand, if I am to be arrested, I wish it to be in a house that I have occupied some time. I will not be described in any act as an individual without a domicile!" Can it be said, after this, that great men are not subject to strange weaknesses?

These minute details will be my only answer to some culpable expressions that I have met with in a work very widely spread: "M. Laplace," says the anonymous writer "knew all the secrets of geometry; but he had not the least notion of the state France was in, he therefore imprudently advised Bailly to go and join him."

What is to be here deplored as regards imprudence, is, that a writer, without exactly knowing the facts, should authoritatively pronounce such severe sentences against one of the most illustrious ornaments of our country.

Bailly did not even enjoy the puerile satisfaction of taking rank among the domiciled citizens of Melun. For two days after his arrival in that town, a soldier of the revolutionary army having recognized him, brutally ordered him to accompany him to the municipality: "I am going there," coolly replied Bailly; "you may follow me there."

The municipal body of Melun had at that time an honest and very courageous man at its head, M. Tarbe des Sablons. This virtuous magistrate endeavoured to prove to the multitude, (with which the Hotel de Ville was immediately filled by the news, rapidly propagated, of the arrest of the old Mayor of Paris,) that the passports granted at Nantes, countersigned at Rennes, showed nothing irregular; that according to the terms of the law, he could not but set Bailly at liberty, under pain of forfeiture. Vain efforts! To avoid a bloody catastrophe, it was necessary to promise that reference would be made to Paris, and that in the mean time he should be guarded--a vue--in his own house.

The surveillance, perhaps purposely, was not at all strict; to escape would have been very easy. Bailly utterly discarded the notion. He would not at any price have compromised M. Tarbe, nor even his guard.

An order from the Committee of Public Safety enjoined the authorities of Melun to transfer Bailly to one of the prisons of the capital. On the day of departure, Madame Laplace paid a visit to our unfortunate colleague. She represented to him again the possibility of escape. The first scruples no longer existed; the escort was already waiting in the street. But Bailly was inflexible. He felt perfectly safe. Madame Laplace held her son in her arms; Bailly took the opportunity of turning the conversation to the education of children. He treated the subject, to which he might well have been thought a stranger, with a remarkable superiority, and ended even with several amusing anecdotes that would deserve a place in the witty and comic gallery of "les Enfants terribles."

On arriving at Paris, Bailly was imprisoned at the Madelonnettes, and some days after at La Force. They there granted him a room, where his wife and his nephews were permitted to visit him.

Bailly had undergone only one examination of little importance, when he was summoned as a witness in the trial of the queen.

BAILLY IS CALLED AS A WITNESS IN THE TRIAL OF THE QUEEN.--HIS OWN TRIAL BEFORE THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL.--HIS CONDEMNATION TO DEATH.--HIS EXECUTION.--IMAGINARY DETAILS ADDED BY ILL-INFORMED HISTORIANS TO WHAT THAT ODIOUS AND FRIGHTFUL EVENT ALREADY PRESENTED.

Bailly, under the weight of a capital accusation, and precisely on account of a portion of the acts imputed to Marie Antoinette, was heard as a witness in the trial of that princess. The annals of tribunals, either ancient or modern, never offered any thing like this. What did they hope for? To lead our colleague to make inexact declarations, or to concealments from a feeling of imminent personal danger? To suggest the thought to him to save his own head at the expense of that of an unhappy woman? To make virtue finally stagger? At all events, this infernal combination failed; with a man like Bailly it could not succeed.

"Do you know the accused?" said the President to Bailly. "Oh! yes, I do know her!" answered the witness, in a tone of emotion, and bowing respectfully to Marie Antoinette. Bailly then protested with horror against the odious imputations that the act of accusation had put into the mouth of the young dauphin. From that moment Bailly was treated with great harshness. He seemed to have lost in the eyes of the tribunal the character of a witness, and to have become the accused. The turn that the debates took would really authorize us to call the sitting in which the queen was condemned, (in which she figured ostensibly as the only one accused,) the trial of Marie Antoinette and of Bailly. What signified, after all, this or that qualification of this monstrous trial? in the judgment of any man of feeling, never did Bailly prove himself more noble, more courageous, more worthy, than in this difficult situation.

Bailly appeared again before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and this time as the accused, the 10th of November 1793. The accusation bore chiefly on the pretended participation of the Mayor of Paris in the escape of Louis XVI. and his family, and in the catastrophe that occurred in the Champ de Mars.

If any thing in the world appeared evident, even in 1793, even before the detailed revelations of the persons who took a more or less direct part in the event, it is, that Bailly did not facilitate the departure of the royal family; it is that, in proportion to the suspicions that reached him, he did all that was in his power to prevent their departure; it is, that the President of the sitting of the Jeu de Paume had not, and could never have had in any case, an intention of going to join the fugitive family in a strange country; it is that, finally, any act emanating from a public authority in which such expressions as the following could be found: "The deep wickedness of Bailly.... Bailly thirsted for the people's blood!" must have excited the disgust and indignation of good men, whatever might be their political opinions.

The accusation, as far as it regarded the murderous fusillade on the Champ de Mars, had more weight; this event had as counterpoises, the 10th of August and the 31st of May; La Fayette says in his memoirs, that those two days were a retaliation. It is at least certain that the terrible scenes of the 17th of July cost Bailly his life; they left deep impressions in people's minds, which were still perceptible after the revolution of 1830, and which, on more than one occasion, rendered the position of La Fayette one of great delicacy. I have therefore studied them most attentively, with a very sincere and lively desire to dissipate, once for all, the clouds that seemed to have obscured this point, this sole point, in the life of Bailly. I have succeeded, Gentlemen, without ever having had a wish or occasion to veil the truth. I do no Frenchman the injustice to suppose that I need define to him an event of the national history that has been so influential on the progress of our revolution, but perhaps, there may be some foreigners present at this sitting. It will be therefore for them only that I shall here relate some details. We must bring to mind some deplorable circumstances of the evening of the 17th July, when the multitude had assembled on the Champ de Mars or Champ de la Federation, around the altar of their country, the remains of the wooden edifice that had been raised to celebrate the anniversary of the 14th of July. Part of this crowd signed a petition tending to ask the forfeiture of the throne by Louis XVI., then lately reconducted from Varennes, and on whose fate the Constituent Assembly had been enacting regulations. On that occasion martial law was proclaimed. The National Guard, with Bailly and La Fayette at their head, went to the Champ de Mars; they were assailed by clamours, by stones, and by the firing of a pistol; the Guard fired; many victims fell, without its being possible to say exactly how many, for the estimates, according to the effect that the reporters wished to produce, varied from eighty to two thousand!