THE FIELD OF BLOOD.
Lugubrious was the scene which met the eye of a young man who trod the
Champ de Mars, after the tragedy of which Bailly and Lafayette were the
principal actors.
It was illumined by the moon two-thirds full, rolling among huge black
clouds in which it was lost now and then.
It had the semblance of a battle field, covered with maimed and dead,
amid which wandered like shades the men charged to throw the lifeless
into the River Seine and load up the wounded to be transported to the
Groscaillou Hospital.
The young man was dressed like a captain of the National Guards. He
paused on the way over the Field, and muttered as he clasped his hands
with unaffected terror:
"Lord help us, the matter is worse than they gave me to understand."
After looking for a while on the weird work in operation, he approached
two men who were carrying a corpse towards the water, and asked:
"Citizens, do you mind telling me what you are going to do with that
man?"
"Follow us, and you will know all about it," replied one.
He followed them. On reaching the wooden bridge, they swung the body
between them as they counted: "One, two, three, and it's off!" and slung
it into the tide.
The young officer uttered a cry of terror.
"Why, what are you about, citizens?" he demanded.
"Can't you see, officer," replied one, "we are clearing up the ground."
"And you have orders to act thus?"
"It looks so, does it not?"
"From whom?"
"From the Municipality."
"Oh," ejaculated the young man, stupefied. "Have you cast many bodies
into the stream?" he inquired, after a little pause during which they
had returned upon the place.
"Half a dozen or so," was the man's answer.
"I beg your pardon, citizens," went on the captain, "but I have a great
interest in the question I am about to put. Among those bodies did you
notice one of a man of forty-five or so, six feet high but looking
less from his being strongly built; he would have the appearance of a
countryman."
"Faith, we have only one thing to notice," said the man, "it is whether
the men are alive or dead: if dead, we just fling them over board; if
alive, we send them on to the hospital."
"Ah," said the captain: "the fact is that one of my friends, not having
come home and having gone out here, as I learnt, I am greatly afeared
that he may be among the hurt or killed."
"If he came here," said one of the undertakers, shaking a body while his
mate held up a lantern, "he is likely to be here still; if he has not
gone home, the chances are he has gone to his last long one." Redoubling
the shaking, to the body lying at his feet, he shouted: "Hey, you! are
you dead or alive? if you are not dead, make haste to tell us."
"Oh, he is stiff enough," rejoined his associate; "he has a bullet clean
through him."
"In that case, into the river with him."
They lifted the body and retook the way to the bridge.
"Citizens," said the young officer, "you don't need your lamp to throw
the man into the water; so be kind enough to lend it me for a minute:
while you are on your errand, I will seek my friend."
The carriers of the dead consented to this request; and the lantern
passed into the young man's hands, whereupon he commenced his search
with care and an expression denoting that he had not entitled the lost
one his friend merely from the lips but out of his heart.
Ten or more persons, supplied like him with lights, were engaged
likewise in the ghastly scrutiny. From time to time, in the midst of
stillness--for the awful solemnity of the picture seemed to hush the
voice of the living amid the dead--a name spoken in a loud tone, would
cross the space.
Sometimes a cry, a moan, or groan would reply to the call; but most
often, the answer was gruesome silence.
After having hesitated for a time as though his voice was chained by
awe, the young officer imitated the example set him, and three times
called out:
"Farmer Billet!"
No voice responded.
"For sure he is dead," groaned he, wiping with his sleeve the tears
flowing from his eyes: "Poor Farmer Billet!"
At this moment, two men came along, bearing a corpse towards the river.
"Mild, I fancy our stiff one gave a sigh," said the one who held the
upper part of the body and was consequently nearer the head.
"Pooh," laughed the other: "if we were to listen to all these fellows
say, there would not be one dead!"
"Citizens, for mercy's sake," interrupted the young officer, "let me see
the man you are carrying."
"Oh, willingly, officer," said the men.
They placed the dead in a sitting posture for him to examine it.
Bringing the lantern to it, he uttered a cry. In spite of the terrible
wound disfiguring the face, he believed it was the man he was seeking.
But was he alive or dead?
This wretch who had gone half way to the watery grave, had his skull
cloven by a sword stroke. The wound was dreadful, as stated: it had
severed the left whisker and left the cheekbone bare; the temporal
artery had been cut, so that the skull and body were flooded with gore.
On the wounded side the unfortunate man was unrecognizable.
The lantern-bearer swung the light round to the other side.
"Oh, citizens," he cried, "it is he, the man I seek: Farmer Billet."
"The deuce it is--he seems to have his billet for the other world--ha,
ha, ha!" said one of the men. "He is pretty badly hammered."
"Did you not say he heaved a sigh?"
"I think so, anyhow."
"Then do me a kindness," and he fumbled in his pocket for a silver coin.
"What is it?" asked the porter full of willingness on seeing the money.
"Run to the river and bring me some water."
"In a jiffy."
While the fellow ran to the river the officer took his place and held up
the wounded one.
In five minutes he had returned.
"Throw the water in his face," said the captain.
The man obeyed by dipping his hand in his hat, which was his pitcher,
and sprinkling the slashed face.
"He shivered," exclaimed the young man holding the dying one: "he is not
dead. Oh, dear M. Billet, what a blessing I came here."
"In faith, it is a blessing," said the two men; "another twenty paces
and your friend would have come to his senses in the nets at St. Cloud."
"Throw some more on him."
Renewing the operation, the wounded man shuddered and uttered a sigh.
"Come, come, he certainly ain't dead," said the man.
"Well, what shall we do with him?" inquired his companion.
"Help me to carry him to St. Honore Street, to Dr. Gilbert's house, if
you would like good reward," said the young captain.
"We cannot do that. Our orders are to heave the dead over, or to hand
the hurt to the carriers for the hospital. Since this chap makes out he
is not dead, why, he must be taken to the hospital."
"Well, carry him there," said the young man, "and as soon as possible.
Where is the hospital?" he asked, looking round.
"Close to the Military Academy, about three hundred paces."
"Then it is over yonder?"
"You have it right."
"The whole of the place to cross?"
"And the long way too."
"Have you not a hand-barrow?"
"Well, if it comes to that, such a thing can be found, like the water,
if a crownpiece or two----"
"Quite right," said the captain; "you shall not lose by your kindness.
Here is more money--only, get the litter."
Ten minutes after the litter was found.
The wounded man was laid on a pallet; the two fellows took up the shafts
and the mournful party proceeded towards the military hospital escorted
by the young officer, the lantern in hand, by the disfigured head.
A dreadful thing was this night marching over the blood-stained ground,
among the stiffened and motionless remains, against which one stumbled
at every step, or wounded wretches who rose only to fall anew and called
for succor.
In a quarter of an hour they crossed the hospital threshold.