myself no more than the babe unborn what was to be the outcome. The
sun had set in a bank of red clouds, and the lovely summer evening was
closing in when I got to the town about eight o’clock; but fine as it
was, there was not a soul about; no guards and no loungers outside the
market gate; so I walked boldly up the High Street, where the only
living thing I met was a half-starved cat, which fled when it saw me.
The houses, all tightly closed, turned blind eyes on the street, with
doors and windows barred; and the only sound I heard was the echo of my
own footsteps.
“I am too late,” I said to myself, “they are all dead.” Just then I
thought I heard a rustling behind the shutters, so I banged on the
nearest door and shouted, “Let me in!” Getting no answer I tried
another house and another, rattling the handles and knocking loudly
with my stick, but not a door was opened. I could hear faint noises
inside as if mice were stirring, and I understood that the miserable
cowards were all hiding. This made me so angry that I cried out, “Denis
Saulsoy, old man, if you don’t open the door, I’ll beat it down! It is
I, Breugnon.”
At my name all the shutters flew open as if by magic; and I saw a row
of frightened faces all along Market Street, like a lot of onions lying
on the window sills. They stared at me as if I were the most beautiful
thing in creation, and as the terror faded from their eyes, they
looked so pleased that I flattered myself that it was from affection
for me; but the fact was, the sight of any one there at that hour was
reassuring. Then ensued a very interesting dialogue between Breugnon
and the onions; they all talked at once, and I replied as best I was
able. They wanted to know where I came from, what I was doing, where
I was going, how I got in, and how I meant to get out? To which I
answered that I was glad to find that their tongues were still in
working order, though their courage seemed somewhat rusty.
“I want to talk to you,” I cried. “Come out! It is a charming evening,
what are you all sticking in the house for,--has somebody stolen your
breeches?”
“Breugnon,” they said in a frightened whisper, “did you see any one in
the streets?”
“Whom did you expect to see, idiots?”
“The brigands; they are burning everything in Béyant.”
“Why don’t you go and stop them then, you fools?”
“We have to stay here to protect our houses.”
“The best way to protect your own houses is to go out and fight for
other people’s; don’t you see that when the brigands have burnt down
the rest of the houses, they will take yours? Your time will come,
never fear!”
“Master Racquin told us that the best thing we could do was to keep
quiet till order was re-established by the Duke of Nevers.”
“A lot of water will run under the bridges before the Duke leaves his
own business to look after ours; we shall all be burned to a cinder by
that time. Come, come! We ought to fight for our skin, if it is worth
anything.”
They kept on for some time making objections, chirping like birds from
window to window, declaring that the enemy was numerous and powerful,
and that we were weak and had no one to lead us; till I lost all
patience, and swore that I would not stand there in the street any
longer gaping at them.
“Do you think I am here to serenade you?” I cried. “Let the women stay
up there, to take care of your houses, they are quite equal to that.
But if there are any men among you, come down and fight, or, by the God
that made me, I will set fire to you myself with my own hands!”
At last one braver than the rest stuck his nose out of the door, half
laughing, and then they all came out one after the other, and stood
round me in a circle.
“Are you quite cured of the plague?”
“As right as a trivet.”
“And has no one attacked you?”
“Only a lot of geese, but who cares for their hissing? Listen, my
friends, you see I am here all safe and sound; don’t you think that
there has been enough of all this nonsense? It is time to go to work,
and now, some of you tell me where we can go to plan for what must be
done.”
“You can come to my forge, if you like,” said Gangnot, and led the way;
soon we were all gathered there in the darkness, with the door tight
shut. The place smelt of burnt horn and horses, and a lantern standing
on the rough floor threw our monstrous shadows on the smoky beams of
the roof. At first no one dared to speak a word, and then they all
broke out and talked at once, until Gangnot seized his great hammer
and struck a resounding blow on the anvil, which shook the loud voices
again into silence; whereupon I managed to make myself heard.
“Friends,” said I, “don’t waste your breath in telling me what has
happened, for I know as much as you do about it;--you say the brigands
are here,--I say we must throw them out; you say the mob is on their
side,--well, what of that? Mobs are men, just like you and me, who want
to wet their throats when they see others drinking. We are told it is a
sin to tempt Providence, but it is still worse to dangle a lot of rich
booty before the eyes of poor devils, who have not one penny to rub
against another; they may not be thieves themselves, but they have no
objection to profit by the stealings of others. You know, there are all
sorts of people in the world, and as the Lord says, we must divide the
sheep from the goats.”
“Master Racquin is an Alderman, and he ordered us to do nothing,” said
some of the more timid. “The whole authority of the city rests in his
hands, you know, and now that the Lieutenant, the Procurator, and all
the others are absent, he is charged to keep order.”
“Well, does he do it?”
“He tries his best.”
“I ask you, has he kept the town in order? No! Well then, we will do it
ourselves!”
“Master Racquin has solemnly promised us that if we keep perfectly
quiet, all our property shall be protected, and the disturbances be
confined to the suburbs.”
“And how is he going to keep that promise?”
“He was forced to make some kind of a treaty with the brigands, but he
says that it was only to get them in his power.”
“To hoodwink us, you mean,--why, such a treaty is a positive crime!”
They all hung their heads, looking angry and shamefaced as well as
frightened, and Denis Saulsoy said quickly, timidly, that it was not
safe always to speak out what one thought. Gangnot was a man of few
words, but he gave the anvil another blow, and said, “Colas is right!”
“What are you afraid of, Denis?” said I. “You are among friends,--do
you think that walls have ears? Here, Gangnot, go and stand in front of
the door with that hammer of yours, and knock the head off the first
man that tries to enter; he may have ears to listen with, but I bet
that he won’t have a tongue to wag, after Gangnot has had a good lick
at him! Now is the time to decide; speak up, if you are true men, for
when we leave here it will be to act, not to talk.”
This brought them all to their feet in a perfect uproar; they broke out
in a storm of rage against Racquin, calling him a rascal, and Judas,
and swearing that he had sold us outright and all that we possessed;
but since he had the police behind him, they were afraid to move or
offer any resistance.
“Where is he to be found?” said I.
They told me, at the Town Hall, where he stayed night and day, guarded
by a troop of ragamuffins, who were more like jailers than defenders.
“He is a prisoner then, in a word,” cried I. “Gangnot, open that door!
We will go at once and set him free;--who is with me? It is too late to
hang back now!”
“Breugnon,” said Saulsoy, scratching his head, “I do not mind a few
hard knocks, but it is a different matter to go against a man who
represents the law; if you resist the law, you are taking a heavy----”
“Res-pon-si-bil-i-ty!” said I. “Well, why not? My shoulders are broad
enough to bear it, so none of the rest of you need worry. When I see a
scoundrel I kill him first, and find out afterwards if he is Pope or
Procurator. When order has turned to chaos, it is time to take the law
into our own hands.”
This ended the discussion, and we all filed out with Gangnot at our
head, his hammer in his huge four-fingered hand, (he had crushed one of
them on the anvil). He looked like a walking tower, tall and strong,
his face blackened by smoke, and one eye squinting horribly, but we all
crowded in behind his broad back, and each man ran to his house to get
his weapons. I should not like to swear that they all came back armed;
perhaps some of the poor fellows could not find their axes or their
arquebuses, for when we assembled in the market-place, our ranks were
rather thin, if the truth were told; but those who did come were true
as steel; men you could put your trust in.
When we got to the Town Hall, we found by great good luck that the main
door was wide open; perhaps because our kind shepherd was so sure that
his lambs would let themselves be shorn without so much as a baa-a,
that he and his watch-dogs, having partaken of a hearty dinner, were
all wrapped in slumber. Under these circumstances our assault was by no
means heroic; we just walked in, and caught, as they say, the bird on
her nest.
Racquin was dragged out of his bed, just as he was, like a skinned
rabbit; and he looked anything but pretty, with rolls of fat all
over his pink body, even on his forehead and round his eyes. We soon
found that he knew what we were after, and was equal to the situation.
He flashed an angry glare at us out of his sharp gray eyes, under
their puffy eyelids; but he controlled himself at once, and with an
authoritative air, inquired by what right we thus invaded the precincts
of the law. I answered that we only wanted to drag him out of bed. This
made him furiously angry, but Saulsoy said to him, “Master Racquin, you
are not the one to threaten us; the boot is on the other leg now. We
are here to accuse you, so defend yourself if you can.”
He changed his tune at once. “Fellow-citizens,” said he blandly, “what
would you have of me? What complaint do you bring? I have stayed in the
town to protect you at the risk of my own life, when all my brother
officials fled before the plague and the riots. I alone have remained
faithful at my post. The evils which have come upon you are surely none
of my causing, so what fault can any of you find with me?”
“You are the physician of the town, Racquin,” said I, “and as the
proverb says, ‘Clever doctors make bad sores.’--You have fattened on
the plague and the riots, you and your creatures; you are in league
with the robbers to burn down our houses, which you ought to protect;
and instead of resisting the mobs, you have made yourself a leader
among them. We do not know if you have thus betrayed us through fear
or greed, but you shall choose yourself what label we are to hang
about your neck: ‘This is one who sold his town for thirty pieces of
silver.’ Prices are higher than they were in Iscariot’s day, so I will
put instead, ‘An Alderman who saved his own skin at the expense of his
fellow-citizens.’”
“Breugnon,” said he, with an ugly look, “I have only done my duty in
burning infected dwellings according to law.”
“Yes, and when a man is not one of your adherents you mark his house
with a cross, and call it infected. And how about letting the mob in to
pillage? That is a good way to stop the spread of the plague, isn’t it?”
“I was unable to prevent it, in all cases, and besides, if these
ruffians catch the pest while they are looting the houses, so much the
better, we are rid of two nuisances at once.”
“A splendid idea. The robbers kill the plague, and the plague kills
the robbers, and the Alderman inherits what remains of the town! It
is as I said just now, the clever doctor survives both disease and
patient. Now I tell you what it is, Master Racquin, your treatment is
too high-priced for us. We will take care of ourselves from this time
onward, and by way of salary for former services, we will give you----”
“Six feet of ground in the nearest graveyard,” Gangnot finished the
sentence for me, and at the word our followers sprang forward like a
pack of wolves. I threw myself before their prey, while he took refuge
between the bed and the wall, staring wildly out at their furious
faces. He was such a miserable object, shivering there like a fat pig,
without a rag to cover him that, just out of pity, I told him to get
his clothes on.
“We have seen enough of your hide, for one while, my friend,” said
I. This made the others laugh, and seeing them in a better humor, I
began to try to make them hear reason. Racquin meanwhile hurried on
his clothes, his teeth chattering with cold, and an evil gleam in his
eye. He knew that the danger was over for the moment; that for a day
at least his life was reasonably safe, so when he was fully dressed,
he plucked up his courage and went so far as to call us all rebels;
threatening to punish us for insulting a magistrate.
“You are no longer Magistrate,” said I. “You are dismissed by my order!”
At this he turned on me; forgetting all prudence, and screaming with
rage, he cried out that he knew me for a rascally trouble-maker; that I
had stirred up the others to attack him, and that on me should fall the
most condign punishment.
“Shall I kill him?” said Gangnot, balancing his hammer. I held him back
as I answered:
“It is lucky for you, Racquin, that I have been ruined, for you know
well enough that, if I hanged you now, people would say it was out of
revenge for the fire. A halter would just suit your style of beauty,
and one of these days you will certainly wear one round that fat neck
of yours. But the thing is that we have got you now, and are going to
strip your Alderman’s gown from your back; we are the Government here
until further notice.”
“You are taking your life in your hand, Breugnon.”
“What if I am? I risk it for the good of the town, and if I lose,
Clamecy will be the winner!”
He was sent to prison forthwith, and to make room for him we released
an old sergeant whom he had shut up three days before, for disobedience
of orders. The sheriff and all of the staff at the Town Hall came round
to our side, now that the blow was struck, declaring that Racquin was
a traitor, and that they had always said so; (if they had, it was in a
very low whisper).
Our plan had run as smoothly as if on wheels, up to now; so much
so that I was really surprised, and asked, “Where on earth are the
brigands?” And just then a breathless messenger ran up to warn us
that the mob was outside the Lourdeaux gate-tower, and that they were
attacking Peter Poullard’s warehouse in Béyant, burning, sacking, and
carrying all before them.
“This time,” said I, “they will have to dance to our piping,” and we
rushed down to the Mirandole terrace, which overhangs the lower town.
We could see nothing but a dense cloud of smoke shot through with red
flames; above our heads sounded the frantic tocsin from the tower of
St. Martin’s, while from below rose a perfectly infernal clamor.
“Comrades,” said I, “let us get down there as quick as we can, for the
oven is heating, and no mistake,--but who is to lead us? You, Saulsoy?”
He hung back, however, saying that it was bad enough to be out of his
bed at midnight, with an old musket in his hand, but when it came
to making him Captain, that was a little too much! He did not mind
obeying, he said, but for a fellow who had never been able to decide
anything in his life, it was ridiculous to ask him to give orders.
“Who will be chief, then?”
No one stirred; I was ready to dance with impatience, but such people
are all alike, willing enough to follow, but when it comes to taking
the lead, no one at home! They were all cautious householders, and with
them the habit of hesitation is so inveterate that they will spend half
a day bargaining over the sheet they want to buy, and fingering the
linen until, perhaps, the chance is gone.
“If no one else offers, I will be captain!” cried I. “But first
understand one thing: for this night I give orders and you obey them;
no talking, no hanging back, for if we fail now we are all lost;
so remember I am to be master. It will be time enough to judge me
tomorrow. What do you say?”
“Agreed!” they shouted with one voice, and we started down the hill.
I went first, Gangnot at my left, and Bardet, the town crier, on my
right with his drum. Down by the gate leading to the suburbs, we found
a crowd of people, men, women, and children, streaming out toward the
place where looting was going on, as if it were a fair. They were all
in a very good humor, and some of the housewives were carrying baskets
as they do on a market day. They moved politely aside to let us pass,
not knowing who we were, and then fell into step, and marched on behind
us. Among them was a man I knew, Perruche, the barber. He was carrying
a paper lantern in his hand, and as I came near, he held it up to my
face, and as soon as he saw who it was he called out, “Hullo, Colas!
Glad to see you back! Come and have a drink.”
“Tomorrow if you like,” said I. “There is a time for everything.”
“You must be breaking up, Breugnon. Thirst is always in season, and if
we wait till tomorrow all the good wine may be gone. Is it possible
that you have actually lost your taste for a good September vintage?”
“Stolen drink has no flavor.”
“Stolen? You mean saved out of a burning house. I should be a pretty
fool to let it all run away into the gutter.”
“Thief!” said I, and pushed him out of my way, and as each man behind
came up, he too said, “Thief,” and frowned at the barber, who stood
completely dumfounded for a moment. Then we heard him shouting, and as
I looked over my shoulder I saw that he was running after us, shaking
his fist. But as nobody took any more notice of him, he fell silent
when he had caught up to us, and marched on behind.
The crowd was so dense when we came to the waterside, just by the first
Yonne bridge, that I halted and ordered the drum to beat; this made
them open a little, so that we pushed forward like a wedge; but after
a few yards we could go no further. I found myself rubbing elbows with
two boatmen whom I knew well; one Father Joachim, nicknamed “Calabre,”
and the other a man named Gadin, called Gueurlu.
“What are you doing here, Master Breugnon,” said one, “all harnessed up
like a prize donkey? Are you out for fun or a fight?”
“There’s many a true word spoken in jest, Calabre. I have just been
appointed Captain of Clamecy, and I am here to defend the town against
all its enemies.”
“There are no enemies that I know of,” said he. “You must be cracked.”
“What do you call that crowd down there, setting fire to houses?”
“We are all sorry that your house was burnt the first day, Master,”
said he, “but now that it is gone, I don’t see what difference it makes
to you if we do go for a fat old thief like Poullard, who grows rich on
the wool that he pulls off our backs, and then turns up his nose at us.
It is a good deed to rob the likes of him, and anyhow you are in the
same boat with us poor men now, all to gain and nothing to lose, so get
out of our way!”
I hated to get my hands on these poor devils, so I tried to make them
hear reason first.
“You have everything to lose, Calabre,” I said; “your honor to begin
with.”
“Honor!” cried he. “Is it good to eat? What’s the use of talking about
a thing like that, when you know we may soon be all dead men; dead and
blown away as if we had never existed?”
“Honor, indeed!” said Gueurlu; “that’s a word they put on rich men’s
tombstones, but when we die, they shovel us into the common ditch. Can
you tell by the smell if we had honor or not?”
“Joachim,” said I, turning away from Gueurlu, “it is true a man does
not amount to much all by himself, but get a lot of men together and
it’s a different story; many a little makes a mickle, you know, and
when the rich are all swept away and forgotten, with their lying
epitaphs, down to the very names they are so proud of, then the
hard-working people of Clamecy will be known as her real nobility. We
must not have it said that we too were rascals.”
“Much I care!” said Gueurlu, but Calabre cried, “You are a pig-face!
You care for nothing, but I am like Breugnon,--I do care what they say
of me, and by St. Nicholas! the rich shall not have all the honor to
themselves; high or low, there is not one of them worth our little
fingers!”
This brought on a great dispute. Gueurlu persisted that our betters
from the least to the greatest, from our own Duke up to the princes,
did nothing but grab, and stuff their bellies with other folks’
dinners; and even laid hands on the King’s treasures as soon as the
breath was out of his body;--that there was no use in talking about
“honor” after that;--we might as well take a leaf out of their book.
Calabre said they were indeed a set of hogs, and that some day our
Henry would come back from the tomb to make them disgorge, or else
we would all rise ourselves, and cut their throats for them. But
meanwhile, we were going to show them that there was more real honor in
us than in the heart of what they call a nobleman.
“Hooray!” cried I; “you are with us then?”
“Yes, by the Mother of God! And Gueurlu is coming too.”
“No, he isn’t!”
“I tell you he is, or I’ll pitch him neck and crop into the river! Here
we go, forward march! Out of my road, Wrigglers!”
He forced his way through the press, and we followed like a school of
herrings. Most of the men we came up against now were so far gone in
drink that there was no use in saying a word to them; anyhow, there is
a time for everything, and we had got past the talking stage; there was
nothing left to us but our fists; so as drunken men are safe all the
world over, we just sat them down on the stones as gently as we could
and went on.
By this time we had reached the warehouse gates, and could see the
looters swarming all over Master Pierre Poullard’s house like ants.
Some were ripping open chests and bales, bedizening themselves in
stolen finery; others, with shrieks of laughter, were throwing
everything breakable they could find out of the windows. The courtyard
was full of wine barrels and frantic drinkers. I saw one man with his
mouth to the bunghole, who having drunk till he could hold no more,
rolled over on his back, the red stream still spattering in his face,
and running away into little pools on the ground, where children were
lapping up the wine, and mud with it.
The rioters had heaped up a great pile of furniture in a corner of
the court, and had set it on fire so that they might see the better.
But the whole infernal orgy centered in the cellars, where from all
directions came the sound of mallets, as great barrels and tuns were
staved in, and the wine poured out in floods. Groans, screams, and
choking coughs echoed from the low arches, as if a herd of swine had
been let loose there, and already long tongues of flame and smoke came
licking out of the bars of the windows. They were all so busy, each
man intent on what he was doing, that no one seemed to see us as we
made our way into the yard. I signed to Bardet,--he beat a long roll on
his drum, and then in a voice of thunder announced my appointment as
Captain. The instant he ceased I took up the word, and ordered the mob
to disperse on pain of severe penalties.
At the first tap of the drum they had all drawn together like a swarm
of bees, buzzing angrily; then shrieking, and hurling stones, they
rushed upon us. After a fierce struggle we pushed them back, and
succeeded in forcing the doors of the cellar under a hail of tiles and
billets of wood from the upper windows, in spite of which we made our
entrance good, and then had time to breathe and count our wounded.
Poor old Gangnot had lost another finger, and Calabre’s right eye
was badly injured; for me, I had caught my thumb in the hinge of the
door-flap, as I banged it shut; and by my faith, it turned me sick and
faint like a woman. Fortunately there was an open keg of brandy close
at hand, and after I had swallowed a dram and bathed my thumb in some
of the same, my head ceased to go round; but as the fight went on, the
pain made me as mad as a tiger.
By this time we were inside, and all struggling together on the stairs
leading from the house to the cellar, and I felt that we could not
keep this up long, as these devils were discharging their muskets,
close into our very faces, so that they set Saulsoy’s beard on fire,
and Gueurlu had to squeeze it out between his hard hands. Luckily the
rioters were too drunk to shoot straight, or we none of us would have
come out of it alive. I could see also that we had an ally in the fire,
which was creeping round the court from wing to wing, toward the main
building where we were; so when we had retreated to the topmost step,
some of us stood firm, while the rest hastily raised a barrier of loose
stones and rubbish, reaching to the lintel of the doorway. Through the
chinks we stuck our pikes and lances, like the quills of a porcupine.
“Now,” cried I, “those who like fire, will soon have plenty of it!”