the revolution of the 4th of September, 1870, being then a member of the Corps Législatif of Paris, he became a member of the government of the National Defence; and, on the 31st of October, when the Hôtel de Ville was invaded and all the members of the government made prisoners, M. Gamier-Pagès was very badly treated, and even beaten. He was not elected to the National Assembly on the 8th of February, 1871, and from that time he was in private life. He had a country place at Cannes, where he lived the life of a retired gentleman.
These members of the Left shook their fists directly in the face of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Duke de Gramont, who sat fixed and without moving a muscle. Here the tumult reached its height. A hundred men were screaming at the top of their voices, and the President rang his bell furiously, but all to no effect. And then, as a signal that he had lost all control of the assembly, and as a flag of distress, he covered himself by putting on his hat. The huissiers then rushed in and separated the contending parties, and, some minutes after, comparative quiet was restored. The debate continued, and amid the greatest excitement. Finally, after a session of two hours, when all sides seemed wearied out by the contest, the Chamber took a recess until five o'clock. Its first action, after it reassembled, was a proposition substantially expressing a want of confidence in the ministry, and the question was put and fully disposed of in less time than it takes to write about it, and almost in the "twinkling of an eye" the ministers found themselves practically out of office, not more than a dozen members rising in their favor. They asked leave to retire for consultation, and in a few minutes brought in their resignations, with a statement that the Empress-Regent had directed the Count Palikao to form a new ministry. The Chamber then adjourned amid intense excitement. During all the session the Palais Bourbon, in which it was held, was surrounded by troops of the line to keep back the crowd that had assembled on the Pont de la Concorde, at the Place de la Concorde, and along the quays. Leaving the Chamber, I had occasion to go to the Foreign Office. I found the gates there all closed and a regiment of infantry quartered in the court.
It was evident, during the very first days of September, that matters in Paris were drifting to a crisis. It was a strange and indefinable feeling that existed among the population on Saturday, September 3d. Everybody was groping in the dark for news of military operations. The people, alarmed, discouraged, maddened, at all the disasters which had fallen upon their arms, were preparing for great events. I went down to the Chamber of Deputies, at the Palais Bourbon, at five o'clock in the afternoon. On leaving the Chamber a diplomatic colleague whispered trembling in my ear that all was lost to the French, that the whole army had been captured at Sedan, and that the Emperor had been taken prisoner. A session of the Chamber of Deputies was called to meet at midnight.
The startling news had fallen like a thunder-bolt over all Paris. The boulevards were thronged by masses of excited men filled with rage and indignation. The police authorities strove in vain to disperse them.
The Ministry had issued a proclamation which recognized the gravity of the situation, which was brought by my secretary to my residence at midnight. I at once foresaw that stupendous events were on the verge of accomplishment. The news of the full extent of the catastrophe which befell the army of MacMahon was not made public in Paris until about midnight on Saturday, September 3, 1870, though Palikao had, in the previous evening session of the Chamber, given out enough news to prepare the people for almost anything.
That Saturday night session of the Corps Législatif was represented as having been solemn and agitated. The hour designated for its meeting was at midnight, but the President did not take his chair until one o'clock on Sunday morning. M. Schneider, the President, came into the Chamber without the beating of the drum which ordinarily announced his entry. The silence was death-like; but few of the
