The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER VII.

  NEWS FROM THE BARRICADES.

  Pursuant to the Count's order, the steward, bowing again, proceeded withhis account of what he had learned.

  "The news, alas, is very bad, my lord," he began. "One of our men hasjust arrived from the suburb of St. Antoine. The streets are blockedwith barricades; they are forging pikes in the iron-mongers' andblacksmiths' shops; the houses are all illuminated. People are carryingup to the roofs of their dwellings beams and paving stones, to hurl downupon the troops of his Majesty Louis XVI, whom may God protect! Womenand children are pouring musket balls and making cartridges. They havepillaged the armorers' shops in the district. In short, the whole ofthat impious plebs is swarming in the streets, screeching like thedamned, especially against her Majesty our good Queen, his RoyalHighness the Count of Artois, and their Holinesses our lords the Princesof Conti and Conde."

  "And what are the pretexts for these insolent cries and rebelliouspreparations?" asked the Count.

  "My lord, it is the word among this blasphemous people that the court isplotting evil against the deputies of the Third Estate, and that hisMajesty our Sire--may God protect him--is preparing to march on Paris atthe head of fifty thousand troops, to deliver the suburbs to theflames, blood, sack and pillage, and the girls and women to infamy!"

  "The rabblement is at least aware of the punishment it deserves--andwill receive!" cried the younger Mirabeau.

  "What is the feeling in the other quarters," queried the Count ofPlouernel. "Are they also, perchance, boiling over?"

  "In the neighborhood of the St. Honore Gate the mob has invaded theGarde-Meuble, or King's Storage-House, and seized the old arms theyfound collected there. It is a pity, my lord; you can see tatteredbrigands, in their bare feet, yet casqued and cuirassed, and with lancesin their fists. Such magnificent arms in such hands! What adesecration!"

  "Oh, the gallant cavaliers--armed cap-a-pie for the tourney!" cried theMarquis, affecting laughter.

  "Those among this awful horde who have bonnets on," continued thesteward, "have fastened in them cockades of green cloth or paper, as asign of hope. My lord, it is like a frenzy. Out in the open street thescoundrels hug without knowing each other, and with tears in their eyes,cry, like henhawks 'To arms, citizens! Down with tyranny! Long liveliberty! Long live the nation!'"

  "But the other suburbs," pursued the Count. "Are they also wrought uplike this cursed suburb of St. Antoine?"

  "Aye, my lord--unless it be the suburb of St. Marcel, which is almostdeserted. The evil creatures of that district, to the number of twentythousand, flocked to the City Hall during the day to demand arms. TheProvost of the merchants, Monsieur Flesselles, sent them to theLazarist monks. When the great band of beggars arrived at the holyconvent, the good and religious men made answer to them that MonsieurFlesselles was making game of them, for never had a grain of powder or afirearm found its way into the Convent of St. Lazare. Then these banditsfrom St. Marcel broke out into threats of death against MonsieurFlesselles, and being presently joined by another mob of rascals fromthe suburb of St. Victor, they went off all together to the Hospital ofthe Invalids in search of weapons."

  "And were received, no doubt, with the gun-fire of the brave veteranssheltered there?" said the Count.

  "Alas, no! my lord. The pensioners made not the slightest resistance,and the scoundrelly people fell into possession of more than thirtythousand guns and several cannon."

  "The veterans!" gasped the Viscount of Mirabeau. "They, old soldiers, togive up their arms! Do we then face defection and treason on every side!Very well! we shall hang and shoot the invalids, men and officers, tothe last one."

  "Oh, the idea!" shouted the Marquis, with another burst of forcedlaughter, "So now our bare-feet have thirty thousand guns--and somecannon--which they don't know how to use!"

  "You have nothing else to tell us?" said Plouernel to the steward.

  "No, my lord."

  "Then send our men out again for information. The instant they return,come to me with what they have learned."

  The steward bowed for the third time and withdrew. Upon the faces of theconvivial friends blank consternation reigned at the news he hadbrought. They gazed at one another speechless.

  "Do you know, gentlemen," at last spoke up the Cardinal, "that all thisis getting frightful? The very marrow in my bones is chilled."

  "It is my opinion," the Duke answered, "that France will soon be nolonger habitable. We shall have to flee abroad."

  "Come, come, my dear Duke," said the Count of Plouernel, "a fewregiments of infantry, supported by a piece of artillery or two, willsuffice to exterminate these upstarts. The French nobility will whipthem down. We shall unsheath our swords."

  "I think the rabble will whip better troops than those, once they havegot the smell of gunpowder," said Abbot Morlet.

  "You are talking nonsense, Abbot," replied Mirabeau. "It is impossiblethat bare-footed ragamuffins, poorly armed, and without discipline,should be victorious over seasoned troops. If it ever came to that pass,I should snap my sword."

  For the first time since the arrival of the momentous news, Victoriaspoke: "A traitorous King would prevent you from breaking it; he wouldorder you to return it to its scabbard."

  "It is for us to have the courage to sacrifice the King to the safety ofthe monarchy. We shall have all the brave ones--" Mirabeau began.

  "By heaven!" interrupted the Duke, "this is serious, and requiresthought. Sacrifice the King!"

  "What shall we do with the King?" questioned the Cardinal.

  "In other times," replied Victoria, "they shut up do-nothing Kings in,the depths of a cloister. Force Louis XVI to abdicate. The Dauphin is aninfant, you will constitute a council of regents, composed of men ofinflexibility. The shameless plebeians have too much blood; it will riseto their heads and give them a false energy. Bleed them, bleed themwhite, by repression and defeat. You have cannons and muskets; bombardthem--blow them back into the depths they sprung from!"

  "Ah, Marchioness," answered Plouernel, "you are the terrible archangelwho with her flaming sword will defend the monarchy and nobility. Youare right. Safety lies in the abdication of the King and the formationof an inflexible council of regents. The monarch must be eliminated."

  "Your most dangerous enemy, Count of Plouernel," replied she, "is theThird Estate! Has this bourgeoisie not told you, through Sieyes's organ,that up till now it has been nothing, it _which ought to be everything_!There is the enemy. The people, its intoxication once passed, will fallback into its misery and abject submissiveness. Having cried its cry inthe public place, hunger will again seize it by the throat. 'The people,always ridden by want, has never the time to carry out the revolutionswhich it essays.' It is against the bourgeoisie that war to the knifemust be carried on."

  "For one proof out of a thousand of the truth of that statement,"assented the Count, "is not Desmarais the lawyer one of the firiesttribunes in the National Assembly?"

  "My dear Count," said the cavalry officer to Plouernel, "did you notonce treat a fellow of that name to a good cudgeling?"

  "This Desmarais is himself the hero of that episode you refer to--thevery same whippersnapper," answered the Count.

  Aside Victoria said to herself: "And my brother John is the sweetheartof Mademoiselle Desmarais. A singular coincidence!"

  "How did you come to give him his cudgel sauce, Count?" inquired theCardinal.

  "My counsel were arguing before the court a case involving an estateleft to my brother, Abbot Plouernel, at present in Rome. Desmarais,forgetting the respect due to a man of my station, had the insolence tospeak of me in terms hardly reverent. Informed of the fact by myattorneys, I had Desmarais seized by three of my servants one night ashe was leaving his lodgings. They administered to him a sound drubbingwith green sticks, after which my first lackey said to him: 'Sir, thethrashing which we have just had the honor of presenting to you, is fromMonseigneur Plouernel, our master. Let the lesson be a profitable one.'"
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  "That," said the Viscount of Mirabeau, "was as good as the exquisitebastinado given to Arouet 'Voltaire' by the orders of the Prince ofRohan. That's the way to treat the bourgeoisie."

  "Voltaire perhaps owes his fame to that little chastisement," suggestedthe Duke.

  Coming back to the subject which was on everyone's mind, Abbot Morletwas the next to speak. "Madam the Marchioness has just uttered a greattruth," said he. "The Church, the nobility and royalty have no moreterrible enemy than the bourgeoisie. In a state, three elements arenecessary for a good organization--a God, a King, and a people. In orderto carry on production and nourish the representatives of God and theKing, the bourgeoisie should be suppressed."

  "You are stingy in your allotments, Abbot," put in the Duke. "Would you,then, suppress the nobility?"

  "Who says _King_ says _nobility_, and who says God says clergy," repliedthe Abbot. "In other words, if we wish to enjoy our privileges in peace,we must either extirpate or annul the bourgeoisie. Now, if we know howto use the people skilfully, they will come to our aid in this task ofextirpation, for the plebeian hates a bourgeois more than he does anoble."

  "Still, we see the populace gone mad over the deputies of the ThirdEstate. Several of them have already grown to the bulk of idols," saidthe Count.

  "The bourgeoisie is, and will for still a long time remain, as hostiletoward the people as it is toward the nobles. The people know this, andthat is what renders them hostile to the bourgeoisie," Victoriadeclared.

  "It is marvellous how the thoughts of Madam the Marchioness accord withmine," exclaimed Abbot Morlet. "This antagonism which she has justmentioned will some day, perhaps, be our salvation; for I have no faithin the party of the court, composed in part, as it is, of youngmad-caps."

  "By heaven, Abbot," the whole company cried with one voice, "but you areimpertinent!"

  The Abbot shrugged his shoulders and continued impassively. "Therevolution will plunge on in its course. First the royalty and thenobility will fall beneath the blows of the tribunes of the ThirdEstate. Then will fall the Church--but only to rerise more powerful thanbefore, to rear again the scaffolds and relight the pyres of theInquisition."

  "You are talking nonsense, Abbot," again put in Barrel Mirabeau. "Yourprophecies partake of desperation."

  "Nobility and royalty will disappear in the tempest," pursued the Abbot,"but it remains with us to make that disappearance one of the phases ofa rebirth that will establish theocracy more powerful than ever. Theinstant will be decisive, momentous. It may one day come about that thebourgeoisie will merge its cause with that of the populace; that it willestablish education free, unified, common, and uncontrolled by theChurch; that it will abolish private property, making common to each andall the tools of production. Should the bourgeoisie decide thus toemancipate the proletariat, Throne and Altar are done for forever. It isfor us, then, to nurse the antagonism already existent between the two,to envenom their mutual mistrust and reproaches. We must inflame thefear of the bourgeoisie for the populace; we must kindle the mistrust ofthe laborers toward the bourgeois; we must prick the people on toexcess; above all we must invoke to pillage and massacre that furiousbeast which is not the people, but which in times of revolution isconfounded with it--it is the _red specter_ which we must make use of toterrify the bourgeoisie and drive it to sunder its cause from that ofthe people. That is how we can countermine the revolution, and force thesovereigns of Europe to unite, to invade France, and to exterminate ourenemies. Let us mingle, in disguise, with the people; let us provoke andirritate their appetite for blood. Let us and our agents strike thefirst blows--pillage--burn--mow off heads--those of our friends, too,for we must above all avert suspicion; make the blood pour, to rouse thebeast and put it in appetite for sack and massacre!"

  Even Barrel Mirabeau was taken aback at this diatribe. "God's death, SirAbbot," he cried with horror, "do you take us for gallows-tenders?"

  "To make of us mowers of heads!" cried the Count of Plouernel. "'Tisinsanity!"

  "What exquisite fastidiousness!" retorted Morlet.

  "You must have clean lost your senses, Abbot," returned Plouernel. "Todare to propose such a role to us--to make hyenas out of us!"

  "We sons of the Church," answered the Abbot, "shall then assume the roleourselves, if it is so repugnant to you, gentlemen of the nobility.[8]You fear to soil your lace cuffs and silk stockings with mire and blood;we of the clergy, less dainty, and arrayed in coarser garb, are freefrom any such false delicacy. We shall roll up our cuffs to the elbow,and perform our duty. We shall save you, then, my worthy gentlemen, withor without your aid; that will be an account to be settled afterwardsbetween us."

  "The priest has been vomited forth from hell," thought Victoria, toherself. "He is a demon incarnate."

  "We shall know how to save the monarchy, Sir Abbot," replied the Countof Plouernel to his friend Morlet, "even without the need of you folksof the Church; have no worry on that score. You forget that it was oursword which established the monarchy in Gaul and revived the CatholicChurch, fourteen centuries ago, without the aid of the cassocks of thattime."

  "Fine words--but empty," answered the Abbot. "If you are indeed sodetermined to draw the sword, Monsieur Count, will you then please tellme why, this very day, you resigned into the hands of the King thecommand of your regiment? Your boast comes at a poor season."

  "You well know why, Monsieur Abbot," the Count retorted. "My regimentgrew uncontrollable. The evil, however, dates far back. The firstsymptoms of insubordination in the French Guards showed themselves twoyears ago. A sergeant named Maurice"--Victoria shuddered--"had theinsolence to pass me without saluting; and after I took off his cap witha stroke of my cane, he had the audacity to raise his hand against hiscolonel. I handed the mutineer over to the scourges till he droppeddead. That is how I avenge my honor."

  As Monsieur Plouernel thus told the story of Sergeant Maurice, Victoriawas unable to control herself. Her features contracted, and she fixed onPlouernel a look of menace. Then a sudden flush overspread herfeatures. None of this was lost upon the Abbot. "What is this mystery?"he pondered. "The Marchioness casts an implacable look at the Count,then she blushes--she who till now has been as pale as marble. What canthere have been between this Italian Marchioness and this sergeant inthe French Guards, now two years dead?"

  At that moment the steward again entered the banquet hall and approachedthe Count of Plouernel.

  "What news, Robert?" asked the latter.

  "Terrible, my lord!"

  "My Robert is not an optimist," explained Plouernel to the company. "Inwhat does this terrible news consist?"

  "The barriers of the Throne and St. Marcel are on fire. Everywhere thetocsin is clanging. The people of the districts are gathering in thechurches."

  "Behold the sway of our holy religion over the populace--they praybefore the altars," cried the Cardinal briskly.

  "Alas, my lord, it is not to pray, at all, that the rebels are swarminginto the churches, but to listen to haranguers, and among others acomedian by the name of Collot D'Herbois, who preaches insurrection.They trample the sacred vessels under foot, spit on the host, and teardown the priestly ornaments."

  "Profanation! Sacrilege!" exclaimed the Cardinal, suddenly modifying hisideas on the sway of his faith over the people.

  "One of our men," continued the steward, "saw them putting up billswhich the rabble read by the light of their torches. One of the placardsread: 'For sale, because of death, the business of Grand Master ofCeremonies. Inquire of the widow Breze.'"

  "Ah, poor Baked one," sang out the Marquis, making a hideous pun on theunfortunate officer's name, "you are cooked! All they have to do now isto eat you!"

  "On other placards were written in large letters, 'Names of the Traitorsto the Nation: Louis Capet--MarieAntoinette--Provence--Artois--Conti--Bourbon--Polignac--Breteuil--Foulon'--andothers."

  "That is intended to point out these names to the fury of the populace!"gasped the Viscount of Mirabeau.
r />   "The rumor runs through Paris that to-morrow the people will rise inarms and march on Versailles."

  "So much the better," exclaimed the Viscount. "They will be cut topieces, this rabble. Cannoniers--to your pieces--fire!"

  "Go on, tell us what you know," said Plouernel to his steward Robert."Is that all?"

  "Alas no, my lord. This miserable populace in arms surrounds andthreatens the City Hall. The old Board of Aldermen is dissolved, and isreplaced by a new revolutionary committee, which has taken the powerinto its own hands."

  "Are the names of this committee known?" asked the Count.

  "Yes, my lord. From the City Hall windows they threw to the riotingpeople lists with the names. Here is one which our emissary got holdof:--'President of the permanent committee, Monsieur Flesselles,ex-Provost of the merchants'--"

  "Oh, well," laughed the Duke, "if the other members of the committeeare revolutionists of that stamp, we can sleep in peace. Flesselles isin our employ."

  "Finish reading your paper," ordered the Count.

  "'The said committee, in session assembled, decrees: Article I--A citymilitia shall immediately be organized in each district, composed oflicensed business men. Article II--The cockade of this militia shall beblue and red, the city colors.'"

  "Is that all? Finish reporting," said Plouernel, seeing the stewardpause.

  "One of our spies, on entering the neighborhood of the Palais Royal,heard threats hurled against his Majesty Louis XVI, and especiallyagainst her Majesty, the Queen. Everyone looks for terrible eventsto-morrow, my lord."

  Seeing he had nothing more to report, Plouernel allowed the steward todepart, first ordering him to come back with any fresher information.

  "Now gentlemen," Victoria began when the steward had withdrawn from theroom, "the gravity of the situation takes foremost place. There is nolonger room for deliberation--there must be action. Time is pressing.Count, has the court foreseen that the agitation in Paris would drivethe malcontents to open revolt? Is it prepared to combat the uprising?"

  "Everything has been anticipated, madam," answered Plouernel. "Measuresare on foot to repulse the rebels. This very morning I received word asto the plans of the court."

  "Why then do you allow us to wander into objectless suppositions anddiscussions?" asked the Cardinal.

  "I was commanded to exercise the utmost discretion in the matter of thecourt's projects. But in view of the information which my steward hasjust brought in on the popular frenzy in Paris, and on the assaultswhich the discontented element is meditating, I hold it my duty toinform you of the plans laid down."

  Drawing a note from his pocket, the Count continued, reading:

  "Monsieur the Marshal Broglie is appointed commander-in-chief. He said this morning to the Queen: 'Madam, with the fifty thousand men at my command I pledge myself to bring to their senses both the luminaries of the National Assembly and the mob of imbeciles which hearkens to them. The gun and the cannon will drive back under earth these insolent tribunes, and absolute power will again assume the place which the spirit of republicanism now disputes with it.'

  "Monsieur the Marshal Broglie is invested with full military powers. Bezenval is placed in command of Paris, De Launay holds the Bastille and threatens with his artillery the suburb of St. Antoine; the garrison of that fortress has for several days been secretly increased, and ammunition worked in. The Bastille is the key to Paris, inasmuch as it commands the respect of the most dangerous suburbs, and can annihilate them with its guns.

  "The last regiments recalled from the provinces by the Marshal will arrive to-night on the outskirts of Versailles and will powerfully re-enforce the Swiss and the foreign regiments. An imposing array of artillery and a large troop of cavalry will complete this corps of the army. Thus united, the troops will move, day after to-morrow, July the 15th, to the invasion of the National Assembly, which will have been allowed to convene. The Assembly will be surrounded by the German regiments, and the ring-leaders of the Third Estate forthwith arrested."

  In a lowered and confidential tone the Count continued:

  "The most dangerous of the rebels will be shot at once. A goodly number of them will be thrown into the deepest dungeons of the different State prisons of the kingdom. Finally, the small fry of the Third Estate will be exiled to at least a hundred leagues from Paris. A royal warrant will dissolve the National Assembly and annul its enactments. After which Monsieur Broglie, at the head of his army, will march on Paris, take military possession of it, establish courts-martial which will at once judge and put to death all the chiefs of the sedition, banish the less culpable, and confiscate their goods to the benefit of the royal fisc. Should it resist, Paris will be besieged and treated like a conquered city--three days and three nights of pillage will be granted to the troops. After which, the royal authority will be re-established in full glory."

  "There, gentlemen, that is the plan of campaign of the court."

  Loud acclamations from the company--excepting only the Abbot--greetedthe reading of the communication by Monsieur Plouernel.

  "This plan seems to me to be at all points excellently expeditious andpractical," said Victoria. "It has every chance of success. Still, hasthe court foreseen the event of Paris, protected by barricades anddefended by determined men, resisting with the force of despair? Has thecourt foreseen the event of Monsieur Broglie being defeated in hisconflict with the people?"

  "Madam, that case also is provided for," answered Plouernel. "The Kingand the royal family, protected by a powerful force, will leaveVersailles and retire to a fortified place on the frontier. The Emperorof Austria, the Kings of Prussia and Sweden, and the majority of theprinces of the Germanic Confederation, will be prepared to assist theroyal power. Their armies will cross the frontier, and his Majesty, atthe head of the arms of the coalition, will return to force an entryinto his capital, which will be subjected to terrible chastisement."

  "One and all, we are prepared to shed our blood for the success of thisplan," cried the Viscount of Mirabeau, swelling with enthusiasm. "Tobattle!"

  "Has this plan the approval of the King?" asked Victoria. "Can one counton his resolution?"

  "The Queen but awaits the hour of putting it into practice to inform hisMajesty of it," answered the Count. "Nevertheless, the King has alreadyconsented to the assembling of a corps of the army at Versailles. Thatis a first step gained."

  "But if the King should refuse to follow the plan? What course do youthen expect to take?" persisted Victoria.

  "It will go through without the consent of Louis XVI. If necessary, weshall proceed to depose him. Then Monseigneur the Count of Provence willbe declared Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and the Queen, Regent,with a council of unbending royalists. Then we shall see courts-martialand firing squads in permanence! Volleys unceasing!"

  "It is done for royalty if the court dare put its plan, into execution,"muttered Victoria to herself. "To-morrow the Bastille will be taken."Then, rising, her face glowing with animation, and holding her glassaloft, she called, in her brilliant voice:

  "To the death of the Revolution! To the re-establishment of Royalty! Tothe triumph of the Church! To the Queen!"

  And catching her fire, the whole company, with one voice, cried:

  "Death to the Revolution!"

  "Meet me to-morrow morning at Versailles, gentlemen, in battle," criedPlouernel.

  And all except the Abbot shouted back the reply:

  "In battle! We shall all be at Versailles to deal the people itsdeath-blow!"

  The sarcastic coolness of the priest sat the Count ill. "Are youstricken dumb, Abbot," he inquired, "or do you lack confidence in ourplan?"

  "No, I have not the slightest confidence in your plans," answered theprelate calmly. "Your party is marching from blusterings to retreats,and on to its final overthrow, which will be that of the mona
rchy. Butwe shall be there, we the 'shaven-heads,' the 'priestlets,' as you dubus; the 'creatures of the Church,' 'hypocrites and Pharisees,' to repairyour blunders, you block-heads, you lily-livers! We of the frock andcassock contemn you!"

  This deliverance of the Abbot was followed by a storm of indignant criesfrom the assembled guests. Threats and menaces rose high.

  "By heaven!" shouted Barrel Mirabeau, "if you were not a man of thecloth, Abbot, you would pay dear for your insults!"

  "Let him rave," said the Cardinal, shrugging his shoulders, "let himrave, this hypocrite of the vestry-room, this rat of the Church, thisJesuit!"

  "Mademoiselle Guimard awaits his Eminence in her carriage!" called out alackey, stepping into the room.

  "The devil! The devil!" muttered his Eminence the Cardinal as he roseto go. "I clean forgot my Guimard in the midst of my political cares.Well, I must go to face the anger of my tigress!"

  The banquet broke up. The guests left the table, and gathered in littlegroups before parting, still carrying on the discussion of the evening.Only Abbot Morlet stood apart, and as he let his sardonic glance travelfrom group to group, he muttered to himself grimly:

  "Simpleton courtiers! Imbecile cavaliers! Stupid prelates! Go to yourOeil-de-Boeuf! Go to Versailles--go! To-morrow the dregs of the populacewill have felled their first head. The appetite for killing comes bykilling. As to that foreign Marchioness, of whom it is well to haveone's doubts, if it becomes advisable to get rid of her, her handsomehead with its black hair will look well on the end of a pike some ofthese days. So let's be off. I must prepare that bully of a Lehiron, theold usher of the parish of St. Medard, to call together to-night hisband of rascals, ready for anything. And then to get ready my disguiseand that of my god-son, little Rodin!"