by Eugène Sue
“Ah, my friend,” replied Oliver with emotion, “I have to-day no other desire than that of retrieving the errors of my military career. I have resolved to fight with you and our friends for the triumph of the Republic.”
“We have examined, with Martin, the position of this house,” continued Lebrenn, “and the wide open angle which the street forms twenty paces from here seems to render imperative the building of a barricade almost at our doors, in order to cut off the communication of the troops that may come by the boulevards to effect their junction with those who no doubt will occupy the City Hall.”
“The place is well chosen,” commented Oliver, ever the General.
“In that case,” cried Duresnel, smiling, “I move that we name the General commandant-in-chief of the barricade!”
“Carried! Carried!” cried all.
“I accept the position,” replied Oliver; “but in order to command a barricade, there must first be one.”
“Here, my friend, is how things stand,” Lebrenn resumed, when the merriment had subsided; “my son and I enjoy in this street some reputation as patriots. The active men of the quarter, mainly workingmen, have full confidence in us. A number of them have come several times through the day to seek advice. They are resolved to engage in the struggle, if necessary, and only await our giving the signal. Our responsibility is great. If we urge them to the conflict, we must, in placing ourselves at their head, be certain in our consciences of our means of defense. I have assured the brave patriots that this evening, after having visited the different quarters of Paris and informing myself to the best of my ability, by personal observation and through friends, of the state of affairs, I would answer them as to whether they would best take up arms or not. They were to come at eleven o’clock or midnight to receive my decision. It is now half after eleven; their delegates should not be long in coming.
“Now, my friends,” continued John, “the supreme hour is come. Let us take counsel. Let us not forget that among the energetic citizens who await only one word of ours to run to arms, many have wives and children of whom they are the only support. If they are killed or defeated, their families will be plunged into distress. It is for us, then, to decide whether their fighting is commanded by civic duty, whether it offers sufficient chance of success for us to give the signal for battle. We, more happy than our proletarian brothers, are at least certain, if we succumb, of not leaving our families resourceless. Here, then, my friends, is what I propose. We all know how things stand in Paris. Let us put the question to a vote.”
Madam Lebrenn spoke first. “Civil war is a terrible extremity,” she said. “Vanquishers or vanquished, the mother-country has always some children to mourn. But to-day one can no longer hesitate. It is a choice between servitude or revolt. So, with my spirit in mourning for the fratricidal strife, I say to my husband, and to my son, You must fight to defend the liberties that the kingdom has not yet despoiled us of; you must fight to reconquer, if possible, the heritage of the great Republic. It alone can bestow moral and material freedom upon the disinherited ones of the world, in virtue of its immortal principles, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, and Solidarity. So then, as I see it, we must fight. Let the blood which flows fall upon the head of royalty, it alone has called down this impious struggle! To arms! To arms!”
All were deeply moved at Charlotte’s stirring words, and Lebrenn said to his daughter-in-law, “What is your opinion, dear Henory?”
“I believe throughout with my mother. The insurrection must be called.”
“And your opinion, Castillon? Speak, old comrade,” Lebrenn continued.
“Faggot and death, and Ça ira! Commune and Federation, and the Red Flag!”
“You have no need to ask me, friend Lebrenn,” volunteered Duchemin. “You have only to look at my musket. The barrel is oiled, and the lock graced with a new flint. Long live the social and democratic Republic!”
“What do you think about it, my dear Martin? What is your advice?” asked Lebrenn of the painter in turn.
“I,” said Martin, “say with Madam Lebrenn: Civil war is a terrible extremity; but legal resistance is impossible and laughable. When a government appeals to cannon to back up a coup d’etat, insurrection becomes the most sacred of duties. Long live the Republic!”
“Is that your opinion too, Duresnel?” queried Lebrenn.
“Aye, and all the more so because, as I see it, the insurrection has every chance of success. As for asserting that success will lead to a re-establishment of the Republic, I would be careful of falling into a deception. But at any rate we will have made a big step forward in finally driving out the Bourbons; and whatever the government may be that succeeds them, it can not but carry us far towards the Republic. So, then, down with the King! Down with the Jesuits and priests!”
General Oliver did not wait for the question to be put to him. “My friend,” he declared simply, “I have but one way to redeem the past. That is to fight for the Republic, or to die for it.”
“As to you, Marik,” said Lebrenn, turning to his son, “you have regarded an insurrection as inevitable ever since you heard of the ordinances. You are, then, for taking arms, are you not?”
“Yes, I am for battle, father.”
“Well, then, war!” cried John; “Long live the Republic.”
“Someone to see you, sir,” announced a servant.
“These are the delegates of our friends, come for the word. Ask the gentlemen in.”
The servant showed into the room three workmen, in their laboring clothes. One of them, a man still young, and with a face full of fire, addressed John Lebrenn: “Are we to fight, or not to fight, in this quarter, sir? They say it is warming up in St. Antoine, and that they are building barricades. Our St. Denis Street is behind-hand; that will be humiliating for the quarter.”
“My men, you have asked my advice—” began Lebrenn.
“We felt the need of getting in touch with things, Monsieur Lebrenn. Yes, for indeed we said to each other from the first, Ordinances, coups d’etat — what has all that to do with us? Our misery is great, our wages hardly buy bread for our children and ourselves; will our distress be any greater after the coup d’etat than before? And still we said that these Bourbons, these ‘whites,’ are the enemies of the people, and that we should seize the occasion to turn them out. But after all, what will it bring us? The same misery as in the past.”
“What will we have gained by driving out Charles, Polignac, and the skull-cap bands?” added the other two workingmen.
“My men, here in two words is the meat of the matter. To-day, in 1830, the proletarians of the towns and the country, in other words the immense majority of the people, produce, almost by their labor alone, the riches of the country; and yet they live in misery. Why is it thus? Because you have no political rights.”
“And what help would political rights be to us?”
“Suppose you were all electors, as you were under the great Republic. You would elect your representatives; these representatives would make the laws. So that, if you chose for representatives friends of the people, is it not clear that the laws they made would be favorable to the people? The law could decree, for example, as in the time of the Republic, the education of children, instructed and maintained by the state, from the age of five to twelve. The law could decree assistance for disabled proletarians, for widows with children. The law could decree the abolition of slavery in the colonies, equality of civic rights between man and woman. The law could assure work to citizens in times of unemployment, and sustain them against the exploitation of capital. The law, in short, could change your condition completely, for the law is sovereign. The law can perform everything within the limits of the possible; so then, by their number, the proletarians composing the great majority of the citizens, they would be assured of having a majority in the elections; whence it follows that if they had well chosen their representatives, all the laws made by these would be in favor of the proletariat. Do yo
u follow me, friends?”
“In virtue of our political rights we would choose the representatives who make the laws, and they would make them in our interests,” answered the first workingman. The other two also added: “That is easy to understand.”
“That is why,” continued John Lebrenn, “as long as you remain without political rights, your condition will continue precarious and miserable.”
“But how can we obtain these political rights?” asked one of the workingmen.
“By combatting all governments which refuse to recognize your rights or which pluck you of them, as did Napoleon, the accursed Corsican, and as the Bourbons have done.”
“It stiffens one’s spine,” returned the artisan, “to know that by fighting against Charles X and Polignac we will obtain rights which will permit us to choose the representatives who will make laws in our favor. On to the barricades, then! Let us strike a blow that will count, against the gendarmes, and the officers of the troops.”
“To the barricades! Death to the gendarmes!” repeated the other two artisans.
“In conclusion, my men,” resumed Lebrenn, “I tell you in all sincerity, it is possible, although doubtful, that we may with this one blow reconquer the Republic, which alone can free you in mind and body, and restore to you the exercise of your sovereignty. Now, my men, decide.”
With ringing enthusiasm the three workingmen shouted:
“To the barricades!”
“Down with Charles X and Polignac!”
“Down with all the Jesuits and skull-caps!”
And all present joined in the battle-cry:
“Long live the Republic! To the barricades!”
CHAPTER II.
ORLEANS ON THE THRONE.
FOUR DAYS LATER, namely, the 31st of July, Marik Lebrenn lay on his bed, sorely wounded. Bravely defending, with his father, his friends, and a little army of workingmen of St. Denis Street, on the 28th, the barricade raised by them the preceding day a few steps from the Lebrenn domicile, he had his arm broken by a ball. The wound, grave in itself, was further complicated by an attack of lockjaw, induced by the stifling heat of those summer days. Thanks to the care of Doctor Delaberge, one of his father’s political friends and one of the heroes of July, Marik had come safely through the lockjaw, in spite of its usual deadliness. But for the three days he had remained a prey to a violent delirium; his reason had now returned to him hardly an hour ago.
Beside his cot was seated his mother; his wife, bent over the bed, held her infant in her arms.
“How sweet it is to return to life between a mother and a darling wife, to embrace one’s child, and moreover to feel that one has done his duty as a patriot,” murmured Marik feebly, but happily. “But where is father?”
“Father is unwounded. He went out, an hour ago, to be present at a final meeting with Monsieur Godefroy Cavaignac, the valiant democrat,” answered his mother.
“And our friends, Martin, Duresnel, and General Oliver?”
“You will see them all soon. Neither the General nor Monsieur Martin was wounded. Duresnel was grazed slightly by a bayonet.”
“And Castillon? And Duchemin?”
Madam Lebrenn exchanged a look of intelligence with her daughter-in-law, who had gone to put her child in his cradle, and answered, “We have as yet no news of those brave champions, Castillon and Duchemin.”
“Then they must be badly hurt,” exclaimed Marik, anxiously. “Castillon would not have gone without coming to see me, for it was he who picked me up when I fell, on the barricade.”
“Our friends are probably in some hospital,” suggested his wife, soothingly. “But please, do not alarm yourself so; you are still very weak, and strong excitement might be bad for you. We can only tell you that your father is unscathed, and the insurrection victorious.”
“Victory rests with the people! It is well; and yet, what will it profit them?”
John Lebrenn and General Oliver now entered the sick-room. Madam Lebrenn rose and said to her husband, with all a mother’s joy: “Our son has come entirely to himself, as the consequence of the long sleep which already reassured us. About half an hour after you left he awoke with his head perfectly clear. Our last anxieties may now be set aside; the convalescence begins well.”
Lebrenn walked quickly over to the bed, looked at Marik a moment, and then embraced him tenderly, saying: “Here you are, out of danger, my dear son. Ah, what a weight was on my heart! The joy I feel consoles me for our deception—”
“My friend, I beg you—” interposed Madam Lebrenn. “The physician bade me shield our dear patient from all emotion.”
“Perhaps it would, indeed, be better to leave Marik in ignorance of the result of our victory; but now it is impossible longer to hide from him the truth.”
“You may tell me everything, dear father. Disillusionment is no doubt cruel, but we have already reckoned with that possibility in our forecasts. Whatever the government may be which succeeds that of Charles X, it will still be an improvement over the abhorred regime of the Bourbons.”
“Well, then, my son, here is our disappointment: The Republic has been crowded out by the intriguers of the bourgeoisie, and the Duke of Orleans has been acclaimed Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. In a few days the deputies will offer him the crown.”
“Our friends then let their guns cool after their success? And did not Lafayette intervene in this matter of kingship?”
“Here,” replied John, “is how the comedy was played. Seeing the triumphant progress of the insurrection, and recognizing that Charles was as good as gone, his friends flocked over to the Orleanists. The Chamber of Deputies met last evening in the Bourbon Palace, in solemn session. It was there that Lafitte, elected to the chairmanship of the Assembly, proposed outright to confer upon the Duke of Orleans the Lieutenant-Generalship of the realm. The majority applauded, and named a committee to go to the Chamber of Peers, also in session, and inform them of the decision of the deputies. The peers spared no enthusiasm in acclaiming the Lieutenant-Generalship of Orleans, in order to safeguard their own places, their titles, and their pensions. One single voice protested against this act of turpitude, that of Chateaubriand. At the City Hall, meanwhile, a municipal committee was in waiting there before the arrival of Lafayette. It was composed of Casimir Perier, General Lobau, and Messieurs Schonen, Audrey of Puyraveau, and Mauguin. These two last republicans and anti-Orleanists urged upon the committee to institute a provisional government, but the majority would not hear of it, wishing, on the contrary, like Casimir Perier, to treat with Charles X; or, like General Lobau, to turn over the office to Orleans. In fact, Messieurs Semonville and Sussy having presented themselves in the name of Charles X, who then proposed to abdicate in favor of the Duke of Bordeaux, Casimir Perier consented to listen to their overtures. But Audrey of Puyraveau cried out indignantly, ‘If you do not break off your shameful negotiations, sir, I shall bring the people up here!’ His language intimidated Perier, and the Bourbon go-betweens retired, followed by Mauguin’s words, ‘It is too late, gentlemen.’
“A deputation headed by the two Garnier-Pagè brothers was sent to General Lafayette to offer him the supreme command of the National Guards of the kingdom; which he accepted. From that moment it was a dictatorship. The General went to the City Hall, amid the transports of the people; he could do anything; he was master, and could have carried the revolution to its logical conclusion! But, with the exception of Mauguin and Audrey of Puyraveau, the municipal committee, in subordinating itself to Lafayette, contrived to frustrate any such intention on his part by at once flattering and frightening him, posing him in his own eyes as the supreme arbiter of the situation, and showing him the responsibility that was falling upon him and the calamities ready to loose themselves upon France if he did not attach himself to the Duke of Orleans; whom, they went on with much ado to show, was able, by an unhoped-for piece of good fortune, to restore order and liberty, while as to the Republic — that was anarchy, that was ci
vil war, that was war with Europe! These words at once tickled Lafayette’s vanity and disturbed his honest conscience. He saw before him a role of a certain degree of grandeur, that of sacrificing his personal convictions to the peace of the country.”
“In other words, of sacrificing the Republic to senseless fears!” cried Marik.
“History will severely reproach Lafayette for that defection, that lack of faith in the principles he supported, which he propagated for half a century,” continued Marik’s father. “But, his character not being equal to the dizzy height of the position whither events had wafted him, he slipped; and promised his support to the Orleanists. In July, 1830, as in the old days of Thermidor, our enemies have defeated us by their quickness, although we had right and the people on our side. The Commune should at that time have triumphed over the scoundrels of the Convention, the same as to-day the City Hall should have triumphed over the intrigues of the Bourbon Palace. May this new lesson be studied and taken to heart by the revolutionists of the future.”
“Malediction on the Conservative deputies! They deserve to be shot!”
“Our program contained in substance this: ‘France is free, she wants a Constitution. She will accord to the provisional government no right but that to consult the nation. The people should not, and can not, alienate its sovereignty. No more royalty. Let the executive power be delegated to an elected President, responsible and subject to recall. The legislative power should be reposed in an Assembly elected by universal suffrage. For these principles we have just exposed our lives and shed our blood, and we will uphold them at need by a new insurrection.’”
“What effect had the reading of this program?” asked Marik.
“It was applauded by the small number who could hear it. Some cried out, in their simplicity, ‘That’s the program of Lafayette! Long live Lafayette!’ But at that moment a singular procession arrived at the City Hall. It was headed by a coach in which sat Monsieur Lafitte, whose bad leg prevented him from walking. Then came the Duke of Orleans, on horseback, attended by Generals Gerard, Sebastiani, and others, and followed by the committee of the deputies who had named him Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. The prince was pale and uneasy, although he affected to smile at the throngs of combatants, who still carried their arms. Their attitude, their words, became more and more threatening. Some guns were even leveled at this man who, after the combat, came to usurp the sovereignty of the people. But a feeling of humanity soon raised them again, and a few minutes later the Duke appeared on the balcony of the City Hall with Lafayette. The latter embraced the Duke, and presented him to the people, with the words:
