That Napoleon Bonaparte, for some time head of a firm and prudent

government, gave to the nation and his subjects reason to depend

for the future upon his wisdom and justice; but thereupon he

sundered the pact which bound the French people, notably by levying

imposts and establishing taxes not warranted by the law, and

against the expressed tenor of the oath which he swore to before

his ascension to the throne, according to Article 43 of the Act of

Constitution of the 28th Floreal, year XII;

That he committed this assault upon the rights of the people just

when he had without necessity adjourned the legislative body and

had caused to be suppressed as criminal a report of that body in

which it contested his title and his part in the national

representation;

That he undertook a series of wars in violation of Article 50 of

the Constitutional Act of the 22nd Frimaire, year VIII, which

states that declarations of war must be moved, discussed, decreed

and promulgated the same as laws;

That he unconstitutionally rendered several decrees carrying the

penalty of death, namely the decrees of the 5th of March, last;

that he presumed to consider national a war which he entered upon

in the interest alone of his own unbridled ambition;

That he violated the laws and the Constitution by his decrees on

State Prisons;

That he has abolished ministerial responsibility, confounded all

powers, and destroyed the independence of the judiciary;

Considering, That the liberty of the press, established and

consecrated as one of the rights of the nation, has been constantly

subjected to the arbitrary censorship of the police, and that at

the same time he has made use of the press to fill France and all

Europe with contradicted facts, false maxims, doctrines favorable

to despotism, and outrages against foreign governments;

That acts and reports rendered by the Senate have been caused to be

garbled in publication;

Considering, That, in place of reigning with an eye singly to the

interest, the happiness and the glory of the French people and in

accordance with the words of his oath, Napoleon has heaped high the

woes of the fatherland by his refusal to treat upon conditions

which the national interests bade him accept, and which would have

compromised neither French honor nor the interests of the nation;

By the abuse he has made of all the resources of men and of money

that have been confided to him;

By his abandoning of the wounded without medical attention, without

assistance, and without food;

By various measures, the result of which has been the ruin of

cities, the misery and depopulation of the country districts,

famine and contagious diseases;

Considering, That, by all these causes, the Imperial Government,

established by the Senate-Consulate on the 28th Floreal, year XII,

has ceased to exist, and that the manifest will of all the French

calls for an order of things whose first result shall be the

re-establishment of general peace and which may be also an epoch of

solemn reconciliation among all the states of the great European

family,

The Senate declares and decrees as follows:

Article 1.--Napoleon Bonaparte is deposed from the throne, and the

hereditary right set up in his family is abolished. The French

people and the army are released from their oath of fidelity

towards Napoleon Bonaparte, who has ceased to be Emperor.

The heart rises with indignation and disgust at the thought of the

shamefulness of these miserable senators. Not alone did not one among

them dare to protest, even by his silence, against these acts which they

now condemned, but these very acts in their time had had no more

vociferous upholders than they themselves.

One last test was reserved for France and Napoleon. The latter was

furnished later (in 1815) with the opportunity to expiate and redeem the

past. His monarchical pride, his hatred for the Revolution both

contrived to render impossible this supreme expiation, and a terrible

chastisement fell upon him. In 1814 Bonaparte, although his throne was

forfeit, was recognized sovereign of the island of Elba. The coalized

Kings assigned him that place as a residence, and thither, attended by

several officers and soldiers faithful to him in his misfortune, he

repaired.

So great was the need felt by France for peace, repose, and

independence, after these ten years of warfare and hard service, that in

spite of her profound aversion for the Bourbons, their return was hailed

with joy. The kingdom of 1814, a new usurpation of the sole,

indivisible, indefeasable and inalienable sovereignty of the people,

consecrated again the iniquitous principle of monarchy, against which

the republican minority in vain protested.

Louis XVIII, accordingly, made his solemn entry into Paris on the 3rd of

May, 1814, in the midst of the princes of his family, escorted by the

greater part of the Marshals of the Empire, among whom mingled Emigrants

and foreign generals: legitimate punishment to Napoleon!

The Bourbons deeply wounded the sentiment of the nation by a return to

the usages of the Old Regime and by outrages against the acts of the

Revolution. Decrees restored to the Emigrants the estates and property

that had not yet been sold; the loans contracted by Louis XVIII in

various countries were placed among the debts of the state. Ordinances

prescribed the observation of church days and Sundays; the censorship

was retained almost as rigorous as under the Empire. Processions

commenced again to circulate about the churches. Thus the royal

government in a short space became as odious as the imperial government

had been. Several military conspiracies were organized. One faction of

the bourgeoisie thought of calling to the throne the Duke of Orleans,

while the republican party thought, on its part, to turn the trend of

events to its own profit. But, as has well been said, the fate of France

lay in the hands of the army, attached to Napoleon by the privileges he

had showered upon it, and by the memories of its glory. The people, long

grown disused to political life, switched off by Napoleon, and wounded

by the Bourbons in its revolutionary instincts, lay inert, all save a

few old patriots of the illustrious days of the Revolution. The army

alone, then, was the deciding factor in the fate of the Restoration.

Such was the state of mind in France from the 3rd of May, 1814, the day

of Louis XVIII's entry into Paris, up to the beginning of the month of

March, 1815, at which period begins our next chapter.

CHAPTER VIII.

RETURN OF NAPOLEON.

It was ten o'clock in the morning of the 20th day of March, of the year

1815. Monsieur Desmarais and his brother-in-law, Monsieur Hubert, were

awaiting in a chamber of the Tuileries an audience which they had

requested with the Duke of Blacas, minister to Louis XVIII, and his most

intimate favorite. They had anticipated the hour of the interview, in

order to arrive among the first; for great was the throng of solicitants

which sought Monsieur Blacas, whose recommendation was all-powerful with

the King. Desmarais and Hubert were dressed in the costume of peers of

the realm of France. The former, first senator under the Consulate, then

under the Empire, had been besides created a Count by Napoleon. Thus,

turned royalist, just as he had been Bonapartist (and, to retrace his

political career, Thermidorean, Terrorist, Jacobin, and first of all

Constitutional), Count Desmarais owed to his recent royalist devotion

the fact that he had been included in the list of senators who were made

peers of France since the Bourbon return. He was now in his sixty-ninth

year; his careworn, bitter features began to show the weakening hand of

age. Hubert, on the contrary, seemed lively and brisk as ever. He had

become the possessor of an enormous fortune, thanks to his purveyorship

under the Directorate, while he was a member of the Council of Ancients.

He had curried no favors at the hand of the Empire, whose absolutism

conflicted with his political principles; his ideal government had

always been a constitutional King, subordinated to an oligarchy of

bourgeois. Hubert had been one of a batch of large proprietors whom

Louis XVIII had in one day admitted to the Chamber of Peers; but he had

not been long in alienating himself from the government of the

Restoration, which was piling fault upon fault; he accordingly attached

himself to the Orleanist faction.

While awaiting their audience with Minister Blacas, the two were engaged

in a political discussion. Soon there entered Fouche, in tow of an

usher. "You will inform his Excellency that the Duke of Otranto begs an

audience with him," said Fouche to the usher. The usher bowed and

disappeared into the ante-room, while the new Duke exclaimed:

"What, is this you, Citizen Brutus Desmarais? And pray, what are you

soliciting here? An order for the debut at the Opera of that dancing

girl you are protecting?"

"That devil of a Fouche knows everything! You would think he was still

Minister of Police," interjected Hubert.

"The cask will always smell of the herring, my dear. I saw this morning

two of my old agents, who continue to make me their little confidences."

"Prefect of police, chief of spies! A pretty function, and highly

honorable!" sneered Hubert.

"Take care, take care, Citizen Hubert," cautioned Fouche. "I have my eye

on the Orleanist conspiracy, in which you have taken it upon yourself to

play a role!"

"Your spies are robbing you. You are very ill informed," retorted the

banker.

"Why try to trifle with me? Everybody conspires under the open heavens

these days. These Bourbons are imbeciles, and their Prefect of Police,

Monsieur Andre, is a ninny! We play all around their legs."

"How can you dare to hold such language in the very palace of our

beloved sovereigns?" protested Count Desmarais.

"Come, now! You and your fellows in the Chamber of Peers are yourselves

conspirators and enemies of the Bourbons."

"Your conspiracies are pure will-o'-the-wisps," again retorted Hubert.

"Well, I tell you that you, Hubert, are conspiring for the Duke of

Orleans. Several officers and generals are conspiring in favor of

Bonaparte. A number of colonels in command of regiments are connected

with this second plot; while, finally, the old Jacobins, and notably

your son-in-law John Lebrenn, Citizen Brutus, as well as the painter

Martin and their friends, are conspiring for the Republic; that's a

third conspiracy."

"All these plots and complots are of your own invention," grumbled

Desmarais, feeling very uneasy.

"True!" acquiesced Fouche with a smile. "But if I never follow the

conspiracies I invent, I at least always let myself into those which the

imbeciles are nursing. I've a foot everywhere: with the republicans, as

an ex-Terrorist; among the Bonapartists, as ex-minister of the Emperor;

with the Orleanists as an old friend of Philip Equality's; in short, the

best proof I can give you of the existence of these complots is, that I

have just come to denounce them. Yes," he continued, his smile

broadening, while Desmarais and Hubert stared at him in stupefaction, "I

have come to denounce them to that blockhead of a Blacas."

"His Excellency will have the honor to receive Monsieur the Duke of

Otranto," announced the usher, making a low bow to Fouche.

"Messieurs," beamed Fouche as he moved towards the open door, "a

royalist like me comes before everybody."

As the door closed after Fouche, a new group of solicitors entered the

waiting room. These newcomers were the Count of Plouernel, now in spite

of his missing eye lieutenant-general and second in command of the

company of Black Musketeers of the military household of Louis XVIII;

the Count's son, Viscount Gonthram, a boy of thirteen, in the costume of

King's page; and, lastly, Cardinal Plouernel, the Count's younger

brother. The prelate was garbed in a red cloak and cap. For a moment

these new personages stood apart, then the Count of Plouernel advanced

towards Monsieur Hubert, whom he did not at first recognize, and engaged

him in the following conversation:

"Will you have the goodness, sir, to inform me whether the audiences

have commenced?"

"Yes, monsieur; just now the Duke of Otranto was called in by Monsieur

the Duke of Blacas. But, pardon me," he added, as little by little he

recalled the other's features, "is it not Monsieur the Count of

Plouernel whom I have the honor to address?"

"Yes, monsieur," replied the latter.

"Monsieur, do you not recognize me?" continued Hubert. "I will assist

you. We met in 1792, during the trial of our unhappy King. We were

conspiring then against the Republic--"

"St. Roche Street, at the house of the former beadle of the parish? Now

I recall it!"

"Who would have told us then, Monsieur Count, that more than twenty

years after that meeting we would encounter each other again in the

palace of the brother of that royal martyr?"

"I fear lest that terrible lesson be lost upon royalty."

"Between ourselves, and without reproach, you have been somewhat the

cause of these unhappinesses, you gentlemen of the nobility."

"In conspiring against the republican Constitution we but defended our

property and our honor. The Republic despoiled us of our seigniorial

rights, sacred and consecrated rights which we held of God and of our

sword."

"Ah, the eternal strife between the Franks and the Gauls! Why is not my

nephew Lebrenn here to reply to you!"

"What say you, sir?" asked Plouernel, shuddering at the name. "That

Lebrenn, that ironsmith, has he become your nephew? What strange news!"

"He married my niece, the daughter of advocate Desmarais, to-day Count

and peer of France."

Under the weight of the memories evoked by the name of Lebrenn, the

Count fell silent. The Cardinal drew close to the speakers, holding by

the hand his nephew Gonthram. His Eminence, better served by his memory

than his brother the Count, recognized Hubert at once, and addressed him

in the most courteous tones:

"It has indeed been many years since we met, monsieur; for, if you

recollect, I accompanied my brother to the cabal in St. Roche Street.

What a time! What sad days!"

"Indeed; and your Eminence must recall how lacking in respect to you the

reverend Father Morlet was, who arrogated to himself the chairmanship of

our meeting. The reverend was accompanied by his god-son, who seemed to

be about the age of this pretty page" (indicating Gonthram); "but he was

far from resembling him, for I never saw a face more sly and

hypocritical than that child of the Church wore."

"Father Morlet is dead, and his god-son, taking orders in Rome under the

name of Abbot Rodin, is affiliated with the Society of Jesus," the

Cardinal informed the group. "This Father Rodin, as private secretary of

the present General of the Order, enjoys great influence. Ah! by my

faith! I did not know that our master hypocrite was in Paris!"

While the Cardinal was uttering these last words, the door opened and in

stepped himself, the reverend Father Rodin. He was accompanied by an

usher, into whose ear he dropped a couple of words. Rodin was now past

his thirtieth year. His meager face, smooth shaven and wan, his

half-closed and restless reptile eyes, his slightly bowed back, his

already bald forehead, his bent neck, his sidling gait, his attitude of

mock-humility, through which shone his contempt for others--everything

about the man stamped him as hypocrisy incarnate. His black gown was

threadbare and whitened at the seams; the mud was caked on his clumsy

shoes. In one hand he held a squalid-looking cap, in the other an old

cotton umbrella with red-and-white checks.

The usher to whom he spoke stepped for a moment into the next room and

returned almost immediately. He made a deep obeisance of respect to the

Jesuit, and said to him in a voice marked with great deference,

"Reverend Father, I have the honor to conduct you at once to the private

cabinet of monseigneur, who is at present engaged with the Duke of

Otranto."

Rodin made a sign of assent, and with eyes fixed on his shoes, so that

he did not see the Cardinal, he was about to walk by the group in which

the latter stood.

"Usher!" called the Cardinal, haughtily, "a word with you. We, Monsieur

the Count of Plouernel and I, were here before this reverend, which he

does not seem to know. The reverend gentleman should wait his time of

audience, and not usurp ours," he added, while Rodin bowed himself

almost to the ground before him.

"I have the honor to inform your Eminence that I have orders from

Monseigneur the Duke of Blacas on the subject of this holy Father. He is

to be introduced whenever he presents himself, and before all other

persons. I obey the orders given me," returned the usher.

"I shall not allow a simple priest to precede by a single step a Prince

of the Church!" stamped the Cardinal. Rodin only bowed before him

several times, lower than before, without raising his eyes to his face.

"My orders are imperative," said the usher.

Indignant the Cardinal turned to his brother. "Well, brother," he said,

"there we are! By the navel of the Pope, I'd like to knock the

interloper down!"

For all answer Rodin again mutely and humbly inclined towards the

Cardinal. Then he made a sign to the usher to precede him, and vanished

through a door on the opposite side of the room from where he had

entered.

The latter entrance again swung open, and admitted Lieutenant General

Count Oliver, in the garish uniform of his rank and decorated with the

Legion of Honor and several foreign orders. He wore the great red ribbon

on his scarf, the order of the Iron Crown over his shoulder, and the

Cross of St. Louis in one of the buttonholes of his coat, which

glittered with braid. John Lebrenn's old apprentice was now

thirty-eight; his moustache still held its blackness, but his hair was

streaked with grey; his face still was handsome and martial. A total

stranger to the other personages in the audience chamber, he seated

himself a little distance off from the group formed by the Cardinal, the

Count of Plouernel, and Monsieur Hubert. Count Desmarais had withdrawn

into the alcove of a window.

"That Jesuit, that scamp, that priestlet, introduced to Monsieur Blacas

before me!" stormed the Cardinal to the Count, his brother. "Me, a

Prince of the Church! I declare, as things are going, helped along by

that execrable charter of 1814, we are marching towards another '93!

France is lost!"

"The Restoration has done a great deal for the clergy, Monsieur

Cardinal," declared Hubert. "You are very wrong to cast reproaches at

the King and the government."

"I am of my brother's opinion as to what concerns the nobility," said

the Count of Plouernel. "I blame the King strongly for giving the

command of two regiments of his guards to ex-Marshals of the Empire,

clodhoppers, men of no account, like all these plebeians, hardly scraped

clean by the nobility Napoleon covered them with." General Oliver, so

far unnoticed by the Count of Plouernel, here moved indignantly, but the

Count proceeded: "The King should never have entrusted commands to these

barrack-heroes, smelling of the pipe and the bottle, bumpkins whom we

must elbow out of our way at the Tuileries, we, old Emigrants, who

fought them under the Republic. We sacrificed all for our masters, and

they do us the outrage to treat these upstarts as our equals! These

specimens, during their Emperor's time, expressed themselves most

insultingly toward the house of Bourbon; and to-day they accept

services, favors, and commands from the King. It is only to betray him

some day; at least that would not be the last word in the renegades'

baseness, and they would not even be conscious of their apostasy!"

At this General Oliver rose, pale with anger, and striding roughly up to

Plouernel said in a voice of concentrated rage:

"Sir, you will regret, I am convinced, your last words, when you learn

that I, Lieutenant General, Count Oliver, have served the Emperor, to

whom I owe my rank and title. For I have the honor to be a soldier of

fortune, sir. I shall know how to chastise any insolence that may be

addressed to me!"

Disdainfully looking General Oliver over from head to foot, the Count of

Plouernel made answer: "Well, sir! I, Gaston, Count of Plouernel, second

in command in his Majesty's Black Musketeers, have the honor never to

have served any but my masters. I followed them into exile, and I

returned to France in 1814. You have my opinion of traitors and

turn-coats."

"The King has conferred on me the command of a military division, and it

pleased him to award me the Cross of St. Louis. Tell me, sir, am I in

your eyes because of that command and that decoration a traitor or a

renegade? Answer, sir," demanded Oliver.

"Since you ask me, sir, I shall reply in all sincerity----"

At the moment when Plouernel would have finished the sentence, he was

interrupted by the hilarious roar of a new personage who had burst into

the room laughing fit to split his sides. It was his old friend the

Marquis of St. Esteve, that intolerable would-be conspirator, whom the

most serious moment could not check in his buffoonery. Powdered white,

the Marquis's hair was dressed in 'pigeon-wings'; his little queue

bobbed up and down on the collar of his bourgeois' coat with gold

epaulets. He wore a court sword, knee breeches, and top boots; he was

the epitome of that type of Emigrant dubbed 'Louis XV's tumblers.' On

seeing Plouernel he at once ran toward him, clasped him in his arms, and

all the while laughing fit to kill, exclaimed:

"Ah, Count! Hold me! I die! Oh, the idea! Ha, ha, ha! This time I shall

split of it, surely! Oh, oh, oh! If you knew the funny sto--ry! Ah, the

idea! I shall surely choke--let me laugh!"

Plouernel pushed him off, muttering "Devil take the nuisance!"

"Hang the Emigrant!" growled Oliver, on his part. "Interrupting just as

I was about to slap that insolent fellow's face!"

"You don't know of it!" ran on the Marquis, continuing to shriek with

laughter. "Ha, ha, ha! Bonaparte--has--has--oh! the idea!--has

returned--has landed at the gulf--oh! oh!--at the gulf of Juan, near the

town of Antibes! If that wouldn't make one split his sides laughing! Hi,

hi, hi!"

"Gentlemen," cried an usher rushing in in a fright, and beside himself,

"his Excellency has just been summoned to the King in haste by an

important unforeseen matter. There is no need waiting--the audiences are

off for another day!"

Following him hurriedly out of Blacas's cabinet, came Fouche, rubbing

his hands. Glimpsing Desmarais, pale and distracted at the news of

Napoleon's landing, he called to him: "If the tyrant does not have you

shot on his return, Citizen Count Brutus, my faith, you will have

fortune with you this time. Make your will!"

"Such a catastrophe! The designs of God are indeed impenetrable!"

exclaimed the Cardinal to Fouche.

"On the contrary, this is the happiest event that could happen under the

canopy. You don't see that Bonaparte falls into the little trap I set

for him. His return is folly. He will reach Paris without striking a

blow, for the Bourbons are execrated. But before a month, all Europe

will march against France."

Without waiting for Fouche to finish his speech, the various persons in

the hall fled to the door, each a prey to a different fear.

CHAPTER IX.

WATERLOO.

The Hundred Days were over. They had passed like the lightning in a

stormy night. Relying only on his genius and his army, Napoleon had

staked upon the turn of a battle his Empire and the independence of the

country. This battle, of Waterloo, he lost, in spite of the super-human

heroism of his soldiers.

May the name of Napoleon be accursed!

Several days had passed since that great disaster. In the cloth shop of

John Lebrenn, in St. Denis Street, under the sign of the 'Sword of

Brennus,' the following scene was enacting.

General Oliver, back wounded from the battle of Waterloo, where he had

bravely conducted himself, was engaged in conversation with his former

master.

"Well, Oliver," Lebrenn was saying to the wounded warrior, "your

Bonaparte has led France to her doom. We have lost the frontiers

conquered by the Republic. A second time the stranger is in the heart of

our country."

"Ah, would that I had remained at Waterloo, like so many others of my

companions-in-arms. But death would not take me!"

"I reproach you not, Oliver. You are defeated and unhappy; you have

returned to us. Let us draw the curtain over the past."

"How just were the forebodings of your valiant sister! I sought a title

of nobility, chivalric orders, and an income. To sustain the Empire I

would have shot my parents and friends. When the Restoration took place,

I did like the most of the Marshals and generals. In order to preserve

my rank, my title, my crosses and my pay, I turned traitor to my past, I

served the Bourbons, whom I despised. I would still have retained a fair

competency even if, which was almost impossible, I had been able to tear

myself away from the attraction of the army. But no, I had become a

servile courtier. I had breathed the air of the court, I could live

nowhere else. I cried 'Long live the King!' I went to mass, I followed

the processions, a wax taper in my hand, I swallowed the insults the

Emigrants heaped upon us when they beheld us at court crooking the knee

to their princes. Ah, Victoria! Victoria! Shame and anguish have fallen

upon me. I betrayed the Republic in Brumaire, I sold myself to the

Restoration in 1814, I deserted it during the Hundred Days, and here I

am reduced to exile--a just punishment for my apostasies."

"You have at least, Oliver, the conscience to repent that sad past. But

you will see how few among the generals and Marshals of the Empire will

repent like you the acts whose memory now galls you. Yes, you will yet

see the Princes, the Dukes, and the Counts of the Empire, little as the

new Restoration will please them, take up again the white cockade as

quickly as they threw it down three months ago for the tricolor. Most of

the Marshals are gorged with wealth; dignity would be easy for them.

But no, they must renounce it for vanities dearer to their pride. Just

God! There you have the fruits of Napoleon's maxim 'It is by rattles

that men are led.'"

"I see too late the abysses toward which Napoleon was driving France,"

groaned Oliver.

Martin the painter just then happened in. "Ah, my dear friend," he

announced from the threshold, "all hope is lost. Carnot despairs of the

situation."

"Nevertheless, the situation is still good," protested Oliver. "Paris,

considered as an immense entrenched camp, gives us the disposition of

the five bridges across the Seine. It would be possible, by a night

march, to move our troops by either bank of the river and wipe out the

Prussian army. But, to carry out that plan, the people would have to be

armed, which Napoleon does not want. The people in arms would mean

revolution and the Republic."

"What Oliver says bears the stamp of reason," remarked Lebrenn.

"Our friends said to Carnot," returned Martin, "'The Emperor will be

forced to abdicate, his hopes of empire will be blasted. The allies will

not content themselves with sending him back again to Elba; he has

everything to fear at their hands. Well, despairing as our position

seems, never, if he wished it, will it have been so excellent! He can

yet become the savior of France and the admiration of posterity. Let him

again transform himself into General Bonaparte, let him put himself at

the head of the troops and the armed people, with the battle-cry "Long

live the Republic! Long live the Nation!" Then liberty will triumph and

France arise, as ever, victorious.'"

"My heart leaps with enthusiasm at hearing such noble language," cried

Oliver. "Yes, yes, Long live the Republic! No more monarchs! Neither

Kings nor masters!"

"'The Emperor is resolved to abdicate,' replied Carnot to us," Martin

continued. "'He knows well enough that he has only to don the red bonnet

and cry To arms! for the whole people to rise. But he does not desire a

new revolution, he does not want to go outside the law. He has no longer

any authority. The Chamber of Deputies has seized the executive power,

and is treating with the allies. The Emperor's part is played, he can do

nothing more for France. Without his concurrence, I consider it futile

to engage upon a struggle.' Such was the response of Carnot."

Castillon and Duchemin were the next to come into the cloth shop. The

first, in his working clothes, still had on his leather apron, blackened

by smoke from the forge. Duchemin, whose moustache had grown quite grey

in the interim, wore a veteran's uniform. He had been placed in that

corps after the Russian campaign, in which he served as quartermaster in

the artillery of the Imperial Guard.

"Well, my friends, what news from the suburbs?" asked Lebrenn.

"In St. Antoine they are demanding arms to run to the defense of the

barrier of La Villette, which they say is already threatened by the

Prussians. 'Guns! Your Emperor will never give them to you!' I told

them," answered Castillon. And catching sight of General Oliver, he

gazed at him a moment open-mouthed and concluded: "Well, I am not

blind! There is Oliver! What a strange encounter!"

"It is indeed Oliver, our old apprentice," said Lebrenn, smiling.

"Ah, it is really you, my fine fellow!" returned Castillon. "Well, well!

It seems you have become a general. Well, that is nothing wrong, for you

are a brave one. But I also learned--and this, on my faith, would make a

hen smile--I also read that you had become a Count! Is it possible! You,

a Count! an ex-ragamuffin who used to ply the bellows for our forge, and

to whom I taught the song of those fine days: '_Ah ca ira, ca ira_, to

the lamp-post with the aristocrats!'"

Instead this time of getting angry, Oliver smiled sadly and extended his

hand to Castillon, saying, "Amuse yourself at my expense, my old

Castillon; it is your right. Your quips are merited, I confess my

wrongs. But be indulgent toward your old comrade. To-day, I wish to

fight for the Republic."

"Heaven be thanked! You have sung me an air there that has brought the

tears to my eyes," exclaimed Castillon with emotion as he eagerly

pressed the general's hand.

Duchemin smiled genially and gave the military salute. "Present,

general," he said. "Still another of the Army of the Rhine and Moselle.

You do not recall me at the passage of the Beresina?"

"Well! Well!" replied Oliver warmly. "Well do I remember you, and

Carmagnole, your sweetheart of a spit-fire."

"Here is an ex-member of the battalion of Paris Volunteers--a tried

patriot, and a republican of the old school," raid Castillon, indicating

to General Oliver Duresnel, who just then entered.

"Ah, my friend," said John Lebrenn to the new arrival, "if you do not

bring me better news than Martin has just given us, our reunion to-day

will lack its flavor. The masses lie indifferent."

"_Consummatum est!_" Duresnel sighed by way of answer. "It is finished.

I have just left the Chamber of Deputies; the Emperor has issued his

abdication, and is preparing, they say, to set out for his residence of

Malmaison, where he will remain while the allies settle upon his fate."

"And what news of the army?"

"The Prince of Eckmuehl, who commands the troops united under the walls

of Paris, assembled his generals this morning, and all or nearly all

have gone over to the Bourbon government. No more hope for it; we must

endure the ignominy of a second Restoration."

"In which case, friend John, what shall we do? Without arms, without

headship, without leaders, the people can do nothing," sighed Castillon.

"The old sans-culottes of the St. Antoine suburb ask nothing better than

to go to the front. In desperation for the cause, they were to march

to-day in mass to the Elysian Fields, in the hope that Napoleon would

yield to the acclamations of the populace," commented Duchemin.

"I am on guard at the Elysian Fields at six o'clock!" exclaimed John

Lebrenn, looking at his watch. "Like an old National Guard, I must to my

post. Adieu, friends!" And he continued to Oliver, "Come to supper this

evening with us and with our old comrades here. We shall take our

adieus of the banished soldier, and before we part, Oliver, we will

drain a last bumper of wine to the re-birth of the Republic. Neither

Kings nor masters! The Commune, the Federation, and the Red Flag!"

"Till this evening, then," replied Oliver. "Long live the Republic! War

upon Kings! Down with the Bourbons!"

CHAPTER X.

DEPOSITION.

Although it was mid-June, the day touched its close towards eight

o'clock in the evening. The shadows of night were already mingling with

the thick shade of the Elysian Garden, where Napoleon dismounted on his

return from Waterloo. A compact mass of people filled Marigny Alley, one

of whose sides was formed by the terrace of the palace, on which trees

and verdure grew in profusion.

The throng was composed almost to a man of artisans or federated troops

of the suburbs. From time to time the buzzing of the vast multitude was

dominated by the cry from thousands of throats--"Down with the

Bourbons!"--"Down with the foreigners!"--"Down with the

traitors!"--"Arms!"--"To the front!"--"Long live the Emperor!"

As the evening wore on, however, that last cry of "Long live the

Emperor," became more and more infrequent. The people understood at last

that Napoleon, whose return they had acclaimed with such hopefulness,

preferred rather to abandon France to the woes which hung over her than

to make an appeal to the spirit of Revolution. The Corsican ceased to be

the idol of the people. Cursed be the name of Napoleon!

At his post, gun on shoulder, John Lebrenn paced up and down the length

of the terrace of the Elysian Garden. He heard the cries of the

crowd--"Down with the traitors"--"Down with the Bourbons"--"The Emperor,

the Emperor!"--"War to the knife against the invaders!"

At that moment Napoleon, in a round hat and plain citizen's cloak,

turned out of the alley which abutted on the terrace. The dethroned

Emperor was walking, in a revery, his hands crossed behind his back. In

the dark, and under the trees, he did not notice the sentry until close

upon him. When he did, he stopped short, and, falling into his usual

habit of questioning those whom he met, he said to Lebrenn, who

presented arms:

"Have you been in the service?"

"Yes, Sire," replied John. The thought flashed through his mind that he

had in the same words answered Louis Capet in his prison in the Temple;

now he was calling Napoleon "Sire" on the day of his deposition.

"What campaigns were you in? Answer," commanded Napoleon.

"The campaign of 1794, in the Army of the Rhine and Moselle."

"Under the Republic! Have you served since?"

"No, Sire; I was married. I served the Republic."

"What is your profession?"

"I am a cloth merchant."

"In what quarter?"

"St. Denis Street."

"What say they of the Emperor among the merchants of St. Denis Street?

Answer me without hunting for phrases."

At that moment a new cry burst from the throng below and reached the

ears of Napoleon:

"Down with the Bourbons!"

"Down with the traitors!"

"Arms! Arms! To the frontiers!"

"The Emperor, long live the Emperor!"

"Again?" said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders; and then to Lebrenn,

"Well, what do they say of me in St. Denis Street?"

"The most of the burghers look with repugnance upon a new Restoration;

but for the commercial bourgeoisie, the Restoration, if it will only

assure peace, means a renewal of business," replied Lebrenn.

"Always the same, these bourgeois," muttered Napoleon; "peace, business.

Their mouths can shape no other words. Among them never the shadow of

national sentiment! And what is the attitude of the people, the

workingmen of your quarter?"

"Some are astonished at your inaction, Sire; others are more severe;

they arraign your general policies."

"Have I not always had my hands tied by the Chamber of Deputies, by

babblers, lawyers, and rainbow-chasers! They think only of orating, of

overwhelming me with their reproaches, instead of aiding me to save the

country. They balanced opinions like the Greeks in the lower world,

while here the barbarians were at the gates of Paris. They are the

wretches!"

"I was at St. Cloud in the days of Brumaire, Sire, when with your

grenadiers you drove the Representatives of the people from their seats.

Now, when the safety of the fatherland is at stake, why do you not

employ the same measures against the deputies who prevent your saving

France?"

"The Five Hundred were Terrorists, malcontents, seditionists,

assassins," said Napoleon quickly; "they merited death."

"I arrived shortly after the session of the Five Hundred. You ran no

danger. No poniard was raised against you. The Five Hundred were no

malcontents; they defended the law and the Constitution."

"You are a Jacobin."

"Yes, Sire; ever since '93; and I believe that to-day, as in '93, the

Republic single-handed could cope with coalized Europe--especially had

the Republic your sword!"

Napoleon's face changed, and he smiled with that inscrutability mingled

with grace and good-fellowship which gave him, more than anything else,

such influence over the simple-minded. "Ah, ah, Sir Jacobin," he said,

"well for you it is that I find out so late what you are. You have no

doubt some influence in your quarter; I would have sent you to rot in

Vincennes, my new prison of state, at the bottom of a pit!"

Anew the cries from below broke out: "Down with the Bourbons!" "Arms!"

"To the frontiers!" "Long live the Emperor--War to the death against the

foreigners!"

"Brave people!" said Napoleon. "They would let themselves still be hewed

to pieces for me; and still they bear the weight of imposts, of

munitions of war, while my Marshals and all the military chiefs whom I

covered with riches betray me. My role is played out. I shall go to

America and turn planter, and philosophize on the emptiness of human

events! I shall write my campaigns, like Caesar."

"Sire, you forget France. Place your sword at her service; become again

General Bonaparte, as you were in the glorious days of Arcola and

Lodi--"

"Sir," broke in the Emperor impatiently and with emphasis, "when one has

been Emperor of the French, he does not step down. To fall, smitten by

the thunderbolt, is not debasement. Never shall I consent to become

again a simple general."

An aide-de-camp came up and joined the General. "Sire," he said,

"Colonel Gourgaud awaits your Majesty's commands."

"Let him harness the six-horse coach and make his way out through the

large gate of the Elysian Garden, to draw the attention of the mob about

the palace. I shall take the single-horse carriage and leave by the

equerries' gate. Hold, I have another order for you."

Napoleon grasped the aide by the arm, addressed him in a low voice, and

walked off with him. Soon they both disappeared around the corner of the

alley. The night was now black as pitch. Below, the cries of the people

ascended again:

"Arms! Arms!"

"To the frontiers!"

"The Emperor, the Emperor! War to the bitter end against the invaders!"

"Your Emperor, O people! is fleeing from you by night," soliloquized

John Lebrenn as he paced his weary round on the terrace. "He flees the

duties to which your voice would call him. He might have enshrined his

name in a new glory, that would have been pure and bright forever. But

fate drives him on to terrible retribution--captivity, perhaps death.

And thus will be avenged the coup d'etat of Brumaire, thus his attempts

against the liberty of the people. May the same fate fall upon all the

monarchs of the world!"

EPILOGUE.

CHAPTER I.

"TO THE BARRICADES!"--1830.

Fifteen years have rolled their course since the second Restoration,

accomplished after the Hundred Days. The Bourbon government seems to

have set itself the task of making the indignation of the people run

over.

Many are the grievances of France against the Bourbons: Provocations,

iniquities, barbarisms, the White Terror of 1815;--the provost courts,

where the hatred and rancor of the Emigrants sated itself with

vengeance;--assassination, organized, blessed, and glorified, in the

south;--Trestaillon and other defenders of altar and throne slaying

their fellow citizens with impunity;--the Chamber of Deputies

unattainable, all its members royalists save one;--the billion francs'

indemnity granted to the Emigrants;--the establishment by the

Ultramountainists and the Ultraroyalists of the law of sacrilege and the

law of primogeniture;--the impieties of the clergy;--the orgies of the

mission fathers.

Military and civil conspiracies sprang up, to protest against the

Bourbons with the blood of martyrs. The _Carbonarii_, a vast secret

society, extended its ramifications throughout all France and preserved

the traditions of republicanism. The Chamber of Deputies was dissolved,

having been guilty of declaring to Charles X through the organ of its

majority, in its address to the crown, that harmony no longer existed

between the legislative body and the government. The Chamber having been

dissolved, the country in the new elections responded by returning 221

deputies of the opposition which composed the majority of the Assembly.

King Charles X, in place of deferring to this manifestation by the

country, imagined that, thanks to the successes of the French arms in

Algeria, he could successfully put through a coup d'etat; which he

attempted, using Minister Polignac as his instrument, and rendering the

ordinances of the 26th of July, 1830, which suppressed the liberties of

the nation.

During the fifteen years of the Restoration, John Lebrenn had continued

his Breton cloth trade in Paris. Monsieur Desmarais, having gone mad

upon the second return of the Bourbons, died in isolation. Marik,

Lebrenn's son, had espoused Henory Kerdren, the daughter of a merchant

of Vannes, a correspondent of his father's. One son had been born of the

marriage. He was now two years old, and had been given the name of one

of the heroes of ancient Gaul, Sacrovir.

The 27th of July, the day after the promulgation of the Polignac

decrees, at about eleven in the evening, Madam Lebrenn and her

daughter-in-law Henory had closed the shop, and had gone up to their

mezzanine floor; there, together in their room, they busied themselves

with the preparation of lint, in anticipation of the insurrection which

seemed due on the morrow. Marik Lebrenn and Castillon were loading

cartridges. Castillon, now at the ripe old age of sixty-three, was white

of hair, but still supple and robust, and still plied his ironsmith's

trade. A cradle, in which slept little Sacrovir, the grandson of John

Lebrenn, was placed beside Henory. It was a picture of the sweet joys of

the family.

"In the presence of the passing events, and especially of those that

seem to be preparing," observed Madam Lebrenn, the same brave, steadfast

Charlotte as of yore, "I feel again that grave and almost solemn emotion

which I felt in my girlhood, in the grand days of the Revolution. Those

were glorious spectacles!"

"A terrible and glorious time, mother," answered Henory. "Imperishable

memories!"

"In the name of a name! We shall fight, Madam Henory!" quoth old

Castillon. "These cartridges will not be wasted. Down with Charles X,

Polignac, and the whole clique of them! Down with the skull-caps!"

Just then John Lebrenn came up. All rose and ran to meet him. He held

out his hand to his wife, and kissed his daughter-in-law Henory on the

forehead.

"The delegates of the patriot workingmen of the quarter have not yet

come?" he asked.

"No, father," replied Marik.

"What news have you picked up on your travels, my friend?" asked his

wife.

"Good, and bad."

"Commence with the bad, father," said Marik.

"The 221 deputies of the opposition lack energy," began his father;

"there is indeed a minority of resolute citizens, Mauguin, Labbey of

Pompieres, Dupont from the Eure, Audrey of Puyraveau, Daunou, and some

others. But the majority seems paralyzed with fear. Thiers is a coward,

Casimir Perier a poltroon. These two wretches pretend that royalty must

be given time to repent and to return to the paths of legality. They

propose opening negotiations with the monarchy."

"Death to Thiers, the petty bourgeois! Death to his accomplices. To the

lamp-post with the traitors!" cried Castillon, as he filled a shell.

"The same fear, the same lack of confidence on the part of the

bourgeoisie as in 1789," remarked Madam Lebrenn. "To-day, as then, the

bourgeoisie is ready to fall at the feet of the King and implore his aid

against the revolution."

"What is James Lafitte's attitude?" queried Marik. "Does he show himself

a man of resolution in the struggle?"

"His civic courage does not fail him. He remains calm and smiling. His

establishment is the rendezvous of the Orleanist party, which is making

a lot of stir, but takes no determined stand."

"And Lafayette--is he on the side of the people?" asked Madam Lebrenn in

turn.

"He is still the same man as we knew him forty years ago," her husband

replied; "undecided, vacillating, incapable of taking a stand. Lafayette

is of all cliques."

"General Lafayette knows well enough that if Charles X wins in the

struggle, his life is in danger," interjected Madam Lebrenn.

"The General's courage is above suspicion; but his lack of decision may

have disastrous consequences for our cause."

"His popularity is very great, and he may aspire to be President of the

Republic," pursued Lebrenn's wife.

"Our friends declared to him to-day that they counted on him for

President in case the Republic were proclaimed. He made answer that he

had no ambition in that direction, and that he would first have to see

how things fell out."

At that moment Martin, the painter of battles, and Duresnel entered the

room. They were both armed with hunting pieces, and carried belts full

of cartridges. Both the artist and Duresnel were chiefs in the

republican Carbonarii, and had played their part in many a conspiracy

upon the return of the Bourbons. Duresnel had spent three years in

prison, having been sentenced for press offences, for being proprietor

of a liberal newspaper. Martin, compromised in the conspiracy of

Belfort, and being condemned to death in John Doe proceedings, took

refuge in England, where he lived for four years, returning to France

only after the amnesty. Through it all the two men had retained the

patriotic ardor of their youth. They were frank republicans, and

partisans of the Commune.

"Good even, Madam Lebrenn," said Martin, setting down his gun. "I see

you are pulling lint; a good precaution, for to-morrow, at daybreak,

there will be hot work, or I am mistaken. Good evening, Madam Henory;

your little Sacrovir will probably hear music to-morrow which will not

be as pleasing to his ear as his mother's songs."

"It is good that my son become early used to such music, Monsieur

Martin," smiled the young mother. "Perhaps he will have to listen to it

often, for I want to make him a good republican, like his father and

grandfather."

"What news do you bring, friends?" asked John Lebrenn.

"I am just from the office of the _National_," said Duresnel, "where

they were holding a meeting of the opposition journalists. Armand Carrel

regards all attempt at revolution as senseless. He will not admit that

an undisciplined population can triumph over an army."

"The people, happily, will not guide themselves by the opinion of this

particular journalist," laughed Martin. "The agitation is spreading in

all quarters. A gathering, ordered to evacuate the Place of the Bourse,

attacked the troops, shouting 'Long live the charter! Down with the

King! To the lamp-post with the Jesuits and Polignac!'"

"The same scene was reproduced on the Place of Our Lady of Victories,

and on St. Denis Boulevard," said Duresnel.

"And they are getting ready for the same struggle in the St. Honore

quarter," Martin continued. "To-morrow at dawn Paris will bristle with

barricades. The combatants are pouring in by the thousand. Several

printers have released their workmen. Maes, the brewer in the Marceau

suburb, is ready to march at the head of his helpers. Coming along the

Dauphine passage, I stepped into our friend Joubert's; his book store is

a veritable arsenal, filled with arms."

"Several armorers' shops have been invaded," Duresnel went on. "On the

Place of the Bourse I met Etienne Arago, the director of the Vaudeville

Theater, who was taking a cart-load of guns and swords from the theater

to the home of Citizen Charles Teste, whom he charged with the task of

distributing them to combatants. There will be arms in abundance."

"This evening," said Martin, "I saw in St. Antoine women and children

carrying paving stones to the upper stories of their houses, to hurl

down upon the troops. The word is being passed along: 'Down with the

pretorians! Death to all the officers!'"

"When the women take part in a revolution," put in Madam Lebrenn, "it is

a good omen. Here are some old friends coming," she added. "They will

have news also."

Upon the word, in came General Oliver, accompanied by the old mounted

artilleryman of the republican Army of the Rhine and Moselle. Duchemin's

hair and moustache were now both as white as snow; but he was still

alert and active, and carried under his arm an old rusted musket. The

bitterness of exile had furrowed Oliver's face with premature wrinkles,

and turned his hair nigh as white as his companion's.

Oliver affectionately gave his hand to Charlotte, saying as he did so,

"Good evening, my dear Madam Lebrenn;--good evening, Madam Henory. Oh,

ho! Here you are occupied like the Gallic women of old on the eve of

battle. And here is brave Castillon filling shells. The picture is

complete."

Duchemin, also, saluted the company in military fashion, and said, "In

my capacity as old artilleryman, I shall lend you a hand, Castillon."

"So here you are at last," cried John Lebrenn cordially to the General.

"Our friends and I were beginning to get surprised, and almost worried

at not having seen you since the promulgation of the ordinances."

"Before two days have passed the Bourbons will be driven from France,"

returned the General. "The army can not stand against Paris in

insurrection. There are but twelve thousand troops in the city; the

victory of the people is assured."

"I fear you are mistaken, General," interposed Martin.

"You may be certain of what I tell you. I have my information from

several old officers of the Empire, who have maintained some sort of

relations with the War Ministry."

"Your old friends are thinking, perhaps, of giving the movement a

Bonapartist turn?" asked Lebrenn.

"They are thinking seriously of it. They besought me to attend a reunion

at the house of Colonel Gourgaud, where I met Dumoulin, Dufays,

Bacheville, Clavel, and other old comrades. I strove hard, but

ineffectually, to convince them that Napoleon's death had made all

thought of empire impossible. I remained alone in my opinion."

"I am afraid you will fall again under the influence of your old

war-time memories, and that of your companions-in-arms," said Lebrenn,

kindly.

"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 _Ca 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 you 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-Page 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 civil 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:

"'Here, my friends, is the best of Republics--'

"Such was the result for which the people of Paris had fought for three

days! It is for this that we risked our lives, that you shed your blood,

my son--and that our old friends Castillon and Duchemin died valiantly,

as did so many other patriots."

"Great heaven! Father, what say you! Castillon--Duchemin--both dead!"

In agony at his unfortunate words, Lebrenn turned to his wife: "Our son

did not know, then, the fate of our friends?"

"Poor old Castillon--I loved him so," sobbed Marik, while his tears

poured upon the pillow. "Brave Duchemin--how did he meet his end?"

"In spite of his age," said General Oliver, who had so far been a silent

spectator of the scene, "he did not leave my side the whole day of the

27th. His patriotic fervor seemed to double his strength. That night he

went home with me. At daybreak of the 28th we rejoined, in Prouvaires

Street, the citizens who were defending the barricades there. The

colonel who commanded the attack, despairing of ever capturing the

barricade, attempted to demolish it with his cannon. A piece was brought

up, and at the first round a bullet rebounded and tore into Duchemin's

thigh. He fell, crying 'Long live the Republic!' Then he forced a smile

on his lips, and with his last breath said to me, 'I die like an old

republican cannonier. Long live the Commune!'"

Just then a servant entered, and said to Lebrenn, "Sir, one of the

workingmen who was here four days ago is come to ask news of Marik."

"Let him come in," replied the young man's father.

It was the artisan who, on the 27th, had acted as spokesman for his

comrades of St. Denis Street. His head was wrapped in a bloody bandage;

he was also wounded in the leg, and supported himself as with a cane,

with the scabbard of a cavalry saber.

"I heard that your son was wounded, Monsieur Lebrenn. I came to inquire

after him," he said.

"My son's condition is causing us no uneasiness," Madam Lebrenn

answered. "Be pleased to take a seat beside his bed, for you also are

wounded."

"I received a saber cut on the head and a bayonet thrust in the leg. But

they will be healed in a day or two."

Marik held out his hand to the workman, and said: "Thanks to you,

citizen, for thinking of me. Thank you for your mark of sympathy."

"Oh, that's nothing, Monsieur Marik," replied the workman, heartily

pressing the proffered hand. "Only I am sorry to have to come alone to

see you, because the two comrades who accompanied me here--the other

evening--"

"They are also wounded?" asked John Lebrenn hastily.

"They are dead, sir," sighed the workman.

"Still martyrs! How much blood Kings cause to flow! What woes they bring

to families!"

"Here, dear son, is how the political farce was wound up," began John

Lebrenn again, to complete his interrupted account. "The majority of

the 221 opposition deputies, typified in Casimir Perier, Dupin,

Sebastiani, Guizot, Thiers, and a few other reprobates, were terrified

when they saw the insurrection on the 28th grow to formidable

proportions. For, had it been defeated, the 221 would have been taken as

its instigators, and, as such, assuredly condemned for high treason

either to death or to life imprisonment; on the other hand, if it was

successful, they dreaded the establishment of the Republic. To conjure

off this double peril, they declared in their special sessions that they

still regarded Charles X as the legitimate King, and that if he would

revoke the ordinances and discharge his minister, they would at all

costs stand for the continuation of the elder branch. Penetrated by this

thought, they went to Marshal Marmont on the 28th to beg him to cease

firing, declaring that if the ordinances were repealed, Paris would

return to its duty. The Prince of Polignac, full of faith in his army,

would listen to no proposition on the 27th nor on the 28th. He counted

on the intervention of God. The stupid monarch and his minister did not

begin to recognize the gravity of their situation till the evening of

the 29th, when the troops, thoroughly routed, beat a retreat upon St.

Cloud. Then the ordinances were repealed, and Messieurs Mortemart and

Gerard were appointed ministers. Charles imagined that these concessions

would mollify the insurrectionists, and cause them to throw down their

arms."

"And what sort of a role did James Lafitte play through all this?" again

inquired Marik.

"The minority of the deputies convened at his house, and, from the 28th

on, they judged the kingship of Charles to be at an end. Thenceforward,

yielding to the counsel of Beranger, they labored actively for the Duke

of Orleans. The rich bourgeoisie, the big commercial men, and a certain

number of military chieftains, Gerard and Lobau among them, also rallied

to the Orleanist party, desiring a new kingdom under which they hoped to

place the actual government in the hands of a bourgeois oligarchy. The

house of James Lafitte was thus the center of the Orleanist

wire-pullings. You asked my advice," continued Lebrenn to the

workingman, "in the name of your comrades, before entering the fight. In

the light of our present set-back, do you regret having assisted in the

revolution?"

"No, Monsieur Lebrenn; I have no regret for having taken up arms. No

doubt we have not obtained what we sought, a government of the people.

But is it nothing to have cleaned out the Bourbons who wished to enslave

us? If we did not get the Republic this time, we at least know how to go

about driving out a King and defeating his army. We shall appeal to the

spirit of insurrection!"

"The day of retribution will come, my friend," declared Lebrenn. "A few

elected men, chosen not by the rank and file of the citizens, but by a

small party representing the privilege of riches, has decided upon the

form of government for France and has offered the crown to Louis

Philippe. They have stained themselves with the guilt of usurping the

sovereignty of the people, which is single, indivisible, and

inalienable. To this usurpation we shall reply by a permanent conspiracy

until the day of that new revolution when shall be proclaimed the

Republican government, which alone is compatible with the sovereignty of

the people, which alone is capable of striking off the material and

mental shackles of the proletariat. The Commune, and the Federation

under the Red Flag! Neither priests, nor Kings, nor masters!"

"On that day," re-echoed the stalwart proletarian at Marik's bedside,

"we shall all rise in arms, and cry:

"Long live the Republic! Long live the Commune!"

CONCLUSION

I, John Lebrenn, concluded the writing of this account on the 29th of

December, 1831, the eve of the day on which a daughter was born to my

son Marik; she was named Velleda, in memory of our Gallic nationality.

To you, Marik, my beloved son, I bequeath this chronicle, along with the

sword I received from General Hoche the day of the battle of

Weissenburg. You will join them to the other legends and relics of our

family, and you will bequeath them, in your turn, to your son Sacrovir.

You will add to these scrolls the history of whatever new events may

befall in your time, and our posterity will continue, from generation to

generation, these our domestic annals.

And now sons of Joel, courage, perseverance, hope--not only hope, but

certitude. In spite of the transient eclipses of the star of the

Republic since the beginning of this century, in spite of the

disappointment of which we were the victims in 1830, in spite of all the

trials which we, and our children, perhaps, have yet to undergo, the

future of the world belongs to the principle of Democracy.

* * * * *

I, Marik Lebrenn, inscribe here, with unspeakable anguish, the date of

April 17, 1832, the evil day on which my beloved father and mother, both

at the same hour, although some distance from each other, died under the

scourge of the cholera. They retained to the end the serenity of their

unsullied lives, and went to await us in those mysterious worlds where

we shall at last be reborn, to continue to live in mind and body, and

follow there our eternal existence.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See "The Pocket Bible," the sixteenth of this series.

[2] See "The Iron Arrow Head," the tenth of this series.

[3] This speech, which clearly shows the social tendencies of the most

radical party in 1789, is here reproduced almost literally from Luchet,

_Essays on the Illuminati_, chap. V, p. 23.

[4] See, for details of these scenes, and the questions and discourse of

the initiators, Luchet's _Essays on the Illuminati_, chap. V. p. 23, and

following; also Robinson, _Proofs of a Conspiracy against All the

Religions and all the Governments of Europe_, vol. I, p. 114 and

following.

[5] See the preceding work in this series, "The Blacksmith's Hammer."

[6] The old palace of the Bourbons, now abandoned to cheap lodgings and

hucksters' booths.

[7] All the persons and facts cited in this story as of historic

importance, are authentic.

[8] For an exactly parallel line of conduct, see that of Abbot Le Roy,

at the time of the invasion of Reveillon's paper factory in the St.

Antoine suburb, as given in the admirable _History of the Revolution_ by

Louis Blanc. We are glad to render here this public testimony of our

sympathy and old friendship for an illustrious campaign in exile.

[9] Mirabeau's death was for long attributed to poison.

[10] The correspondence found at the Tuileries, in the Iron Cupboard, on

August 10, 1792, and the correspondence of the Count of Lamark,

published in our day, establish superabundantly the treason of Mirabeau.

[11] See "The Abbatial Crosier," volume eight in this series.

[12] See "The Infant's Skull," volume eleven in this series.

[13] As each year started anew on the autumnal equinox, the dates varied

a little from those here given. Those given are for the first year of

the era. September, 1792, to September, 1793.

[14] The name for the paper notes issued by the Convention.

[15] Department of War, Sec. III, Correspondence, 1793-1794.

[16] This note is historic.

[17] It is fallaciously that tradition reports the attempted suicide of

Robespierre. He was assaulted by the gendarme Herda. See the _Monitor_,

session of the 10th Thermidor.

[18] The first care of the Royalists in the Convention, the day after

the 9th Thermidor, was not to decree liberty to the suspects, but to go

in person to open the prisons, whence flocked forth a horde of

recalcitrant priests and blood-stained counter-revolutionaries.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Sword of Honor, volumes 1 & 2, by Eugene Sue