Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  “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.

  “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 t
he 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.”

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM!

  IT WAS FORTY-FIVE days after the visit of Billaud-Varenne to John Lebrenn; that is to say, it was the 8th Thermidor of the year II (July 26, 1794). Alone in his par
lor, towards eight o’clock in the evening, advocate Desmarais now paced up and down in agitation, now sank pensively into a chair, his face between his hands. The anguish and terror which for two years had dogged the hypocrite’s steps had completely whitened his hair. His sallow, atrabilious features disclosed the tortures of his soul. Throwing himself into the arm-chair, worn out, he muttered to himself:

  “They insist upon coming! Such a session on my premises! I tremble to think of it — I may be sent to the guillotine to-morrow if Robespierre triumphs. Curses upon my wife and daughter who deserted me! Yet, a plague on my weakness, there is not a day goes by but I regret the unworthy creatures! How happy I was in my family. I loved my daughter, I love her still, as much as it is possible to love a creature on this earth. With what tenderness she would have surrounded my old age. I should have been consoled, comforted; for from my daughter I had no secrets, and her confidences gladdened my heart. My God, ’tis I that am unhappy!”

  After this outburst the lawyer remained for a long time silent and dejected. Then, rising of a sudden, he shouted: “That infamous Lebrenn! It is he who is the cause of my woes. He came to bring trouble under my roof.”

  The advocate’s soliloquy was cut short by the entrance of a lackey, who announced that several citizens desired audience with him.

  “Show them in,” answered the lawyer; and as the servant vanished he added, mentally: “The devil take Fouché, who conceived the idea of choosing my house for the meeting place of his friends — a perilous honor I wish I had the power of declining.”

  Soon there were introduced into the parlor the Convention members Tallien, Durand-Maillane, and Fouché; the reverend Father Morlet accompanied them. The three Representatives of the people belonged to the bloc formed against Robespierre. Durand-Maillane was a member of the Right, or royalist side of the Assembly. Tallien was from the Mountain; while Fouché, an ex-monk of the Oratory, was a Terrorist. A more ignoble physiognomy than Fouché’s it would be impossible to imagine. It was a hang-dog face, hedged about with tow-hair, and seamed with vice, treachery, dishonesty, baseness, and cruelty unrestrained. A cynical smirk raised one corner of his thin mouth. He was the first to enter the advocate’s parlor. Leading up the Jesuit Morlet, he said: