Эжен Сю
The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic
Repeated cries of "Long live the Republic!" greeted the retreat. The German musketry-fire had gone over the heads of the French; only a few were wounded. All hastened to reload their pieces. The volunteers threw fresh cartridges into their guns, in order to receive the second charge of the enemy. The cuirassiers, galled and goaded by the desire to retrieve their first set-back, reformed while describing a wide circuit on the plain. Then, led on by the example of the impetuous Grand Duke, they came on again, not this time in wide front, but in still narrower column. Again they reached the rise of the hill, bending low over their horses' manes, and belaboring the animals with boot and spur. They received the new volley of artillery almost point blank, but still almost immediately gained the top of the eminence, the Grand Duke in the lead. They found themselves awaited by the two companies of volunteers, formed in a hollow square about the cannon, whose attendants were furiously reloading them. Of the three ranks which formed the square, the first was on one knee; the others were erect, their bodies bent forward, guns at position; ready to let fly at the command of Captain Martin.
Solemn silence reigned among the volunteers as they saw, some thirty paces from them, the Grand Duke of Gerolstein gain the summit of their hillock, flanked on one side by a colossus in casque and cuirass bearing the regimental standard, and followed by several officers of his military household.
Castillon, who was in the second line, with John Lebrenn half kneeling before him, and the new volunteer Duresnel behind, said to the former, sotto voice:
"Friend John, let us unite to bowl over that drum-major on horseback with the flag. What say you? Let us fire together."
"I am with you. Take the man – I shall aim for the horse."
"Citizens, I also shall aim at the giant," said Duresnel, in his reed-like voice; "if you will permit, I shall be of your party."
At that moment Captain Martin saw behind the Grand Duke, their bodies half over the brow of the hill, the first rank of cuirassiers. Only then, the cavalry being exposed, did he give the order: "Citizens! Attention! Pick each his man! Aim! Fire!"
"Onward, cuirassiers! Saber this canaille!" shouted the Grand Duke, urging his horse to a great leap in order to reach the serried square. "Onward! Hurrah! Thrust, my braves, and on!"
Attackers and defenders disappeared together in the heavy cloud of smoke from cannon and musket. For long the lurid obscurity of battle hung over the little hill; when the blue haze cleared away, the scene that presented itself to the survivors was one of rejoicing for the Republic, of rout and disaster for its enemies.
The foremost cuirassiers, overwhelmed by the fire from the hollow square, had nearly all either fallen, with their horses, or been trampled down by the following ranks which succeeded in scaling the hill. Still the Grand Duke of Gerolstein and several of his men had been carried by the impetuosity of their charge into the interior of the square, in spite of the forest of bayonets with which it bristled; but they came to a stop when their coursers, exhausted by their last assault, and pierced by the republican bayonets, sank under them. Castillon had been sabered in the shoulder by the old Grand Duke; Duresnel was stunned and bruised but not wounded. Both at once, after their first disorder, beheld the Grand Duke within the square, pinned under his riddled horse. The great orange belt which he wore marked him as a military chieftain. Castillon and Duresnel precipitated themselves upon him and took him prisoner. John Lebrenn, for his part, had aimed accurately, and sent a ball into the chest of the color-bearer's mount. The giant, proof against musket balls, thanks to the thickness of his helmet, breastplate and heavy boots, leaped clear of his steed, and, his saber in one hand, his standard in the other, defended himself against John, who rushed at him with fixed bayonet. The colossus whirled his sword about him and wounded John in the knee; though wounded, the latter rushed on – and captured the colors.
Simultaneously with this, at a few paces' distance, another episode was enacting. An under-officer of the Gerolstein Cuirassiers, seeing himself surrounded, fell furiously upon quartermaster Duchemin and his men. Duchemin, old wagoner that he was, entrenched himself behind one of Carmagnole's wheels, which thus served to shield nearly half his body from the saber and hoof-strokes which his adversary sought to rain upon him. Thus barricaded, and further defending himself with a gun-swab, he at last succeeded in landing so masterful a blow upon his antagonist's helmet that the latter tumbled from his saddle half senseless. Meanwhile Carmagnole's other servitors had reloaded her. At a signal the ranks opened, and once more the artillery belched forth its iron hail upon the last squadron of the Gerolstein regiment, a reserve squad which the Count of Plouernel led again to the charge. Suddenly the remaining cuirassiers, seized with panic, wheeled about and fled full tilt down the steep incline. Their hurried departure was not due alone to the lively and sustained fire of the republican battery. The squadron of the Third Hussars, drawn up in battle array behind the burning farm buildings, had so far taken no part in the fray. Its captain had been killed and its lieutenant disabled by an exploding shell. But Oliver, although the youngest of the under-officers, already possessed so great a reputation for bravery that the soldiers, by common accord, voted him the command of the regiment. "Ah, I was sure of it!" said the dashing young man, leaning over to Victoria, as they walked their horses together alongside the first platoon; "I felt that I should either be killed to-day or win my epaulets. I shall be named an officer on the field of battle."
The French squadron, now put to a gallop, fell upon the rear ranks of the Gerolstein Cuirassiers just as their head was being thrown into disorder and repulsed by the joint fire of the battery and the volunteer infantrymen. Oliver charged the German horsemen furiously. The broil was desperate. The Count of Plouernel, who strove in vain to rally the fleers, suddenly found himself beset by a young hussar whose cap had fallen off in the tumult of battle.
Apparently careless of self the young cavalier rushed straight at the traitor Count – slashed at his face – one eye he would never see out of again. Infuriated by the wound, the Count made a lunge and drove his saber into his adversary's breast. Then Neroweg urged his horse towards the left wing of the Austrian army, and escaped the pursuit of the republican hussars.
The young horseman was Victoria.
CHAPTER XXX
DEATH OF VICTORIA
Night was come. Across the December fogs glared the watch-fires of the republican army. The French troops rested on the field of battle, establishing headquarters in the ruins of the chateau of Geisberg, half demolished by cannon-balls. A large barn, one of the outbuildings of the estate, was turned over to the hospital corps. There the wounded were stretched upon litters of straw, receiving medical attendance by the light of torches. Everywhere were heard the moans drawn by the pain of an amputation, or the extraction of a ball. At one end of the barn, an enclosure of planks set off the threshing floor from the rest of the building. Mortally wounded by the Count of Plouernel, Victoria was at length carried from the field hospital into this retreat, her sex having been revealed while her wound was receiving its first dressing.
A torch fastened into a post illuminated the scene. John Lebrenn, also wounded, knelt beside his sister, who lay out-stretched upon her pallet, half wrapped in a coverlet. His back to the wall, Oliver buried his face in his hands and with difficulty checked his sobs, while Castillon, whose manly face was streaming tears, stood a little apart, leaning against one of the door posts.
Victoria's pallor, and her broken breathing, announced that her sands of life were run. Tightly clasped in both of his, her brother held her hand; he felt that hand grow ever colder and colder.
"Adieu, Oliver," said Victoria feebly, as she turned toward the young fellow. "Love and serve the Republic as you would a mother. Bear in mind that you are a citizen before you are a soldier. Remember above all that those who see in war only a field opened to their ambition and their pride are the worst enemies of the people." Then, addressing her brother, Victoria continued: "Adieu, brother. Before the battle I had the presentiment that I would die as did our ancestress Anna Bell – whose sad life bears so many resemblances to mine." Then, struck by a sudden idea, Victoria continued on a new train of thought: "The Grand Duke of Gerolstein is taken prisoner, you told me, brother? St. Just should be told of the services rendered to our cause by Franz of Gerolstein, and the Grand Duke informed that he will be kept in durance until his son is set free. Franz's liberation will mean one soldier the more for the Revolution."
"Your recommendations will be followed, sister dear," replied John between his sobs; "and oh, dear sister, I weep at our separation. You are going on a journey without return. I am young yet, and long years will pass, perhaps, before I will again be able to behold you."
"Those years will pass for you, brother, as a day – sweetened by the tenderness of your wife, by the love of your children, by the fulfilment of your civic duties."
Then, just as a lamp before its dying flicker casts still some bright beams, the young woman rose to a sitting position. Her great black eyes shone radiantly from within; her voice, erstwhile choked and gasping, became sonorous and full; her beautiful features glowed with enthusiasm; she exclaimed:
"Ah, brother, I feel it – my spirit is shaking off my present body, in order to inhabit a new envelope beyond. The future unrolls before me —
"Hail to that beautiful day predicted by Victoria the Great! Hail! Radiant is its dawn! I see shattered irons, crumbled Bastilles, thrones and altars in dust, and crowning the ruins of the old world a scaffold, the reckoning of Kings! Hail, holy scaffold, symbol of popular justice! O, Republic! Radiant is your birthday! Glorious your sun rises over Europe! Your star, full-orbed, O Republic, pours its torrents of light upon a regenerate world! It buds – It flowers – It bursts into bloom – It sheds in peace its treasures, its riches, its glories, its wonders, amid the joy of its children, free and equal, freed forever from the double yoke of Church and Misery – and united forever by the brotherly solidarity of the confederated peoples – "
The witnesses of the scene, carried away by Victoria's words, deceived by the clearness of her glance and the superexcitation of which she was capable in a supreme burst of energy, forgot that the young woman was dying. Her eyes half-closed, her countenance ashy pale and bathed in an icy sweat, Victoria fell back in her brother's arms; after a moment's agony she passed out of this life to live again in those worlds whither we shall all go.
CHAPTER XXXI
ONRUSH OF THE REVOLUTION
The army was to move at break of day. Before dawn John Lebrenn and Castillon dug Victoria's grave on the heights of Geisberg. Thither she was carried on a funeral litter borne by Captain Martin, Castillon, Duchemin and Oliver. John Lebrenn, leaning because of his wounded knee upon the arm of the young volunteer Duresnel, followed his sister's bier in deep grief. It was snowing, and Victoria's last resting place soon disappeared beneath the white blanket that fell upon the heights as the army marched from its bivouac to advance upon Weissenburg, which might still be defended by the Austrian army. But the Austrians left their trenches during the night; they evacuated Weissenburg; the hordes of the monarchs fled before the legions of the Republic.
Oliver was made under-lieutenant in the Third Hussars. Captain Martin was elected commander of the battalion of Paris Volunteers, succeeding the former commander, who was killed in the siege of Geisberg. The standard captured from the Gerolstein Cuirassiers was carried to General Hoche by John Lebrenn, who received from the hands of the young general, in honor and memory of the glorious defense, a sword taken from the enemy on that day.
On the 10th Nivose, General Donadieu, denounced before the revolutionary tribunal, and convicted of treason, was condemned to death, a penalty which he paid on the scaffold.
Hoche's victory, of the Lines of Weissenburg, decided the success of the whole campaign. On the 12th Nivose the Convention, upon motion of Barrere, rendered this decree:
The National Convention decrees:
The Armies of the Rhine and of the Moselle, and the citizens and garrison of Landau, have deserved well of the fatherland.
John Lebrenn, accordingly, being a soldier of the Army of the Rhine and Moselle, engraved these words on the blade of the sword presented to him by Hoche – John Lebrenn has deserved well of the Fatherland.
The war continued. As soon as his wound had closed, Lebrenn wished to rejoin the Army of the Rhine and the Moselle. But the cut, hardly healed, opened again, and grew worse under the fatigues of a new campaign. He was invalided to the hospital at Strasburg late in the month of Germinal of the year II (March, 1794).
During her husband's absence Charlotte Lebrenn continued to live with her mother in the house on Anjou Street. Master Gervais consented to resume the direction of the smithy he had sold to Lebrenn, until the latter's return from the army. Charlotte, as previously, kept the books of the house. On this task she was engaged on the 23rd Prairial, year II (June 11, 1794). The young woman, now nearing her confinement, was still dressed in mourning for Victoria, her sister-in-law. Madam Desmarais was employed about some dressmaking.
Having finished her accounts, Charlotte closed her books, took out a portfolio of white paper, and prepared to write.
"I must seem very curious, my dear daughter," said Madam Desmarais, "but I am piqued about these sheets of paper which you fill with manuscript every night, and which will soon make a book."
"It is a surprise I am preparing for John upon his return, good mother."
"May he be able, for his sake and for ours, to enjoy the surprise soon! His last letter gave us at least the hope of seeing him any moment. He wrote in the same tenor to Monsieur Billaud-Varenne, who came to see us day before yesterday expecting to find your husband here."
"John awaited only the permission of his surgeon to set out on his way, for the results of his wound made great precautions imperative. Ah, mother! How proud I am to be his wife! With what joy and honor I will embrace him!"
"Alas, that pride costs dear. My fear is that our poor John will be crippled all his life. Ah, war, war," sighed Madam Desmarais, her eyes moistening with tears. "Poor Victoria – what a terrible end was hers!"
"Valiant sister! She lived a martyr, and died a heroine. Never was I so moved as when reading the letter John wrote us from Weissenburg the day after Victoria expired in his arms prophecying the Universal Republic, the Federation of the Nations." Then smiling faintly and indicating to her mother the papers scattered over the table Charlotte added: "And that brings us back to the surprise I am getting ready for our dear John. Read the title of this page."
Madam Desmarais took the sheet which her daughter held out to her, and read upon it, traced in large characters, "To my child!"
"So!" began Madam Desmarais, much moved, "these pages you have been at work on so many days – "
"Are addressed, in thought, to my child. The babe will see the light during a terrible period. If it is a boy, I can not hold before him a better example than that of his own father; if it is a girl – " and Charlotte's voice changed slightly, "I shall offer her as a model that courageous woman whom chance gave me to know, to love, and to admire for a short while before her martyrdom."
"Lucile!" cried Madam Desmarais, shuddering at the recollection. "The unfortunate wife of Camille Desmoulins! Poor Lucile! So beautiful, so modest, so good – and a young mother, too! Nothing could soften the monsters who sat upon the revolutionary tribunal; they sent that innocent young woman of twenty to the scaffold!"
"Alas, the eve of her death, she sent to Madam Duplessis, her mother, this letter of two lines:
"Good mother; a tear escapes my eye; it is for you. I go to sleep in the calmness of innocence.
"LUCILE.16
"Touching farewell!" continued Charlotte. "I also, shall know how to die."
"You frighten me!" exclaimed Madam Desmarais, trembling. "But no; you are a mother, and women in your condition escape the scaffold."
"The child protects the mother. So I address this writing to my child, to whom, perchance, I may owe my life. Camille Desmoulins, Danton, those illustrious men, those lofty patriots, were all sacrificed yesterday. My husband has equalled them in civic virtue, he may be judged and guillotined to-morrow. Sad outlook!"
"Ah, blood, always blood!" murmured Madam Desmarais, her heart sinking within her. "Good God, have pity on us."
"Good mother, let me read you a few lines from the memoirs I have written for my child on the events of our times:
"'You are born, dear child, in times without their like in the world. And when your reason is sufficiently grown, you will read these pages written by me under the eyes of a loving mother, while your father was gone to fight for the independence of our country, and for the safety of the Revolution and the Republic.
"'Perhaps some day you will hear curses and calumnies leveled at this heroic epoch in which you were born. Perhaps for a day, but for a day only, you will see walk again the phantoms of the Church of Rome and of royalty.
"'Christ, the proletarian of Nazareth said, The chains of the slaves will be broken; all men shall be united in one fraternal equality; the poor, the widows and the orphans shall be succored.
"'And now the time has arrived.
"'Those who called themselves the ministers of God continued, for eighteen centuries, to possess slaves, serfs and vassals. In one day the Revolution has realized the prophecy of Christ, misconstrued by the priests.'"
"True, true, my daughter," assented Madam Desmarais, "the Republic did in one day what the Church had for centuries refused to do. It was the place of the Church at least to set the example in freeing the slaves, the serfs and the vassals who belonged to it before the Revolution. May it be accursed for its failure to do so."
"You recognize, then, dear mother, that in these troublous times the good still outdistances the bad;" and Charlotte resumed her reading:
"'Church and royalty purposely kept the people in profound ignorance, in order to render them more docile to exploitation. On the other hand, behold what the Republic decreed, on the 8th Nivose, year II (December 28, 1793):
"'The National Convention decrees:
"'Instruction is unrestricted and shall be gratuitous and compulsory. The Convention charges its Committee on Instruction to draw up for it elementary text books for the education of the citizens. The first of these books shall have in them the Declaration of the Rights of Man, the Constitution, the Table of Virtuous or Heroic Deeds, and the Principles of Eternal Morality.
"'This it followed up by two other decrees, the first under date of the 28th Nivose, year II (January 17, 1794):
"'The National Convention decrees:
"'A competition shall be opened for works treating of;
"'Instruction on preserving the health of children, from the moment of conception till their birth, and on their physical and moral training until their entrance into the national schools.
"'The National Convention decrees:
"'There shall be established in each district within the territory of the Republic a national public library'!"
"These are, as you say, my daughter, great and useful things."
Charlotte continued reading:
"'The National Convention, upon a report of the Committee of Public Safety, adopted also this resolution:
"'The National Convention decrees:
"'There shall be opened in each department a register entitled the Book of National Benefits.
"'The first division therein shall be for old and infirm farmers;
"'The second, for old or infirm mechanics;
"'The third shall be set apart for mothers and widows as well as unmarried mothers, who have children in the country districts.
"'These decrees prove that the Republic, in its commiseration for the unfortunate, consecrates to them a sort of religious care; not only does it relieve the miseries of the people, but it honors their misfortune. It is not a degrading alms which it throws them, it is the debt of the country which it seeks to pay off to the aged who have used up their lives in toil upon the land or in trades. This debt the Republic also pays off to the poor widows who can not undertake the care of their young family. The aged, the child, and the woman, are the constant objects of the solicitude of the Republic.'"
Just then Gertrude the serving maid ran quickly into the room. Her countenance was at once joyous and pained. Charlotte sprang from her seat, and cried,
"My husband has come!"
"Madam – that is to say – but pray, madam, in your condition do not agitate yourself too greatly – " replied Gertrude. "Monsieur John is, indeed, come, if you please – but – "
Charlotte and her mother were both about to rush to meet their returning soldier when he appeared on the threshold, supported on Castillon's arm. The two men were dressed in the uniform of the volunteers of the Republic. John embraced his wife and her mother rapturously, and wiped from his eyes the happy tears which his wife's approaching motherhood caused him. Then seeing that Castillon stood aside, with tears in his eyes also, John said:
"A hug for Castillon, too. In this campaign he has been to me not a comrade, but a brother."
"I knew it by your letters," replied Charlotte, as she warmly embraced the foreman.
"You will sup with us, Citizen Castillon – you would not leave us to celebrate my husband's return alone?"
"You are very kind, Citizeness Lebrenn. I accept your offer gratefully – my day will then be complete," answered the foreman. "I shall just run out and say good-day to my comrades in the shop. But do not forget – friend John must be kept from walking, if he is not to remain a cripple." And Castillon stepped out of the room.
"My child," said Madam Desmarais, "your husband must get off his uniform and lie down. Besides, his wound no doubt needs dressing. Let us attend to it."
Several hours later John and his wife were sitting together, still drinking in the delicious raptures which follow long separations. Day was nearly done.
"When I left you," John was saying, "you were the dearest and best of wives. I return to find you the noblest of mothers. Words fail me to express how moved I am by the sentiment which dictated to you that address to our child which you have just read me. I, too, am affrighted, not for the future but for the present, for the present generation. The most upright spirits seem now to be stricken with a sort of mad vertigo; and still the republican arms are everywhere victorious, everywhere the oppressed peoples stretch out their hands to us. The Terror has become a fatal necessity. The Convention, having restored the public credit and assured the livelihood of the people, continues daily to issue decrees as generous and lofty in sentiment and as practical in operation as those you have embodied in your pages to our child. The national wealth still opens to the country enormous financial resources. The people, calm and steady, has cast the slough, so to speak, of its effervescence and political inexperience. It now shows itself full of respect for the law, and for the Convention, in which it sees the incarnation of its own sovereignty. And yet, it is at this supreme moment that the best patriots are decimating, mowing one another down, with blind fury. Anacharsis Clootz, Herault of Sechelles, Camille Desmoulins, Danton, and many others, the best and most illustrious citizens, are sent to the scaffold."
"Eh! no doubt; and if there is anything surprising, it is your own astonishment, my dear Lebrenn!" suddenly put in a voice.
Charlotte and her husband turned quickly around, to see Billaud-Varenne standing in the open doorway. For some moments he had been a party to Lebrenn's confidences; an indiscretion almost involuntary on Billaud's part, for the young couple, absorbed in their conversation, had not noticed his entrance. Now stepping forward, he said to Charlotte:
"Be so good as to excuse me, madam, for having listened. Your door was open, and that circumstance should mitigate my 'spying'." Then with a friendly gesture preventing John's rising from the reclining chair where he half sat, half lay, Billaud-Varenne added, as he affectionately pressed the hand of Charlotte's husband: "Do not move, my dear invalid. You have won the right to remain on your stretcher. Your worthy wife must have written to you what interest I took in all that concerned you since your departure for the army."
"My wife has often given me intimation of your affectionate remembrance, my dear Billaud; and further, I know it is through your intervention that Citizen Hubert, my mother-in-law's brother, has been mercifully forgotten in the prison of Carmes, where he has long been held as a suspect. Thanks to you, his life is no longer in danger."
"Enough, too much, on that subject," declared Billaud-Varenne, half smiling, half serious. "Do not awaken in me remorse for a slip. Citizen Hubert has ever been, and ever will be, one of the bitterest enemies of the Republic. For that reason, he should never have been spared. I should have ordered his head to fall."
