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THE WORKS OF
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
IN THIRTY VOLUMES
THE WHITES AND
THE BLUES
ILLUSTRATED WITH DRAWINGS ON WOOD BY
EMINENT FRENCH AND AMERICAN ARTISTS
NEW YORK
P. F. COLLIER AND SON
M C M I I
COPYRIGHT 1902
BY P. F. COLLIER & SON
[Illustration: decoration]
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THE PRUSSIANS ON THE RHINE
I. From the Hôtel de la Poste to the Hôtel de la Lanterne 7
II. The Citizeness Teutch 15
III. Euloge Schneider 23
IV. Eugene de Beauharnais 31
V. Mademoiselle de Brumpt 38
VI. Master Nicholas 49
VII. Filial Love, or the Wooden Leg 54
VIII. The Provocation 61
IX. In which Charles is Arrested 67
X. Schneider's Journey 73
XI. The Marriage Proposal 76
XII. Saint-Just 80
XIII. The Wedding of Euloge Schneider 87
XIV. Wishes 92
XV. The Count de Sainte-Hermine 99
XVI. The Foraging Cap 106
XVII. Pichegru 113
XVIII. Charles's Reception 119
XIX. The Spy 125
XX. The Dying Man's Prophecy 132
XXI. The Night Before the Battle 139
XXII. The Battle 144
XXIII. After the Battle 150
XXIV. Citizen Fenouillot, Commercial Traveller for Champagne 155
XXV. Chasseur Falou and Corporal Faraud 161
XXVI. The Prince's Envoy 167
XXVII. Pichegru's Reply 173
XXVIII. The Drum-Head Marriage 181
XXIX. The Prussian Artillery for Six Hundred Francs 190
XXX. The Organ 196
XXXI. In which the Organ-Grinder's Plan Begins to Develop 202
XXXII. The Toast 207
XXXIII. The Order of the Day 212
XXXIV. A Chapter which is but One with the Following Chapter 219
XXXV. In which Abatucci Fulfils the Mission that he
has Received from his General, and Charles that
which he Received from God 224
THE THIRTEENTH VENDÉMIAIRE
I. A Bird's-Eye View 230
II. A Glimpse of Paris--The Incroyables 234
III. The Merveilleuses 238
IV. The Sections 242
V. The President of the Section le Peletier 247
VI. Three Leaders 253
VII. General Roundhead and the Chief of the
Companions of Jehu 256
VIII. The Man in the Green Coat 261
IX. An Incroyable and a Merveilleuse 265
X. Two Portraits 270
XI. Aspasia's Toilet 275
XII. For which Voltaire and Rousseau are to Blame 278
XIII. The Eleventh Vendémiaire 282
XIV. The Twelfth Vendémiaire 286
XV. The Night of the 12th and the 13th Vendémiaire 290
XVI. The Salon of Madame de Staël, the Swedish Ambassadress 293
XVII. The Hotel of the Rights of Man 306
XVIII. Citizen Bonaparte 310
XIX. Citizen Garat 314
XX. The Outposts 320
XXI. The Steps of Saint-Roch 325
XXII. The Rout 329
XXIII. The Victory 333
XXIV. The Sword of the Vicomte de Beauharnais 336
XXV. The Map of Marengo 340
XXVI. Marie-Rose-Josephine Tascher de la Pagerie,
Vicomtesse Beauharnais 345
XXVII. Where an Angel Steps a Miracle is Performed 349
XXVIII. The Sibyl 354
XXIX. Fortune-Telling 360
XXX. The Pretended Incroyable 365
XXXI. "Macbeth, thou Shalt be King!" 370
XXXII. The Man of the Future 376
THE EIGHTEENTH FRUCTIDOR
I. A Glance at the Provinces 383
II. The Traveller 388
III. The Chartreuse of Seillon 393
IV. The Traitor 398
V. The Judgment 402
VI. Diane of Fargas 407
VII. What was Talked About for More than Three Months
in the Little Town of Nantua 412
VIII. A New Companion is Received into the Society of Jehu
under the Name of Alcibiades 417
IX. The Comte de Fargas 422
X. The Trouillasse Tower 426
XI. Brother and Sister 431
XII. In which the Reader will Meet some Old Acquaintances 436
XIII. Citizens and Messieurs 441
XIV. The Cause of Citizen-General Bonaparte's Ill-Humor 446
XV. Augereau 452
XVI. The Citizen-Directors 458
XVII. Mademoiselle de Sainte-Amour's Sick-Headache 465
XVIII. The Mission of Mademoiselle de Fargas 470
XIX. The Travellers 476
XX. "The Best of Friends Must Part" 482
XXI. Citizen François Goulin 487
XXII. Colonel Hulot 492
XXIII. The Battle 497
XXIV. Portia 502
XXV. Cadoudal's Idea 507
XXVI. The Road to the Scaffold 513
XXVII. The Execution 518
XXVIII. The Seventh Fructidor 524
XXIX. Jean-Victor Moreau 530
XXX. The Eighteenth Fructidor 536
XXXI. The Temple 542
XXXII. The Exiles 548
XXXIII. The Journey 553
XXXIV. The Embarkation 559
XXXV. Farewell, France! 566
THE EIGHTH CRUSADE
I. Saint-Jean-d'Acre 572
II. The Prisoners 577
III. The Carnage 583
IV. From Ancient Days to Our Own 588
V. Sidney Smith 594
VI. Ptolemais 601
VII. The Scouts 607
VIII. The Beautiful Daughters of Nazareth 613
IX. The Battle of Nazareth 619
X. Mount Tabor 624
XI. The Bullet Merchant 631
XII. How Citizen Pierre-Claude Faraud was made
a Sub-Lieutenant 635
XIII. The Last Assault 640
XIV. The Last Bulletin 644
XV. Vanished Dreams 648
XVI. The Retreat 652
XVII. Wherein we see that Bonaparte's Presentiments
did not Deceive Him 657
XVIII. Aboukir 662
XIX. Departure 668
INTRODUCTION
In the preface of "The Companions of Jehu" I told why that romance had
been written; and those who have read it cannot fail to have seen where
I borrowed from Nodier in the description of the execution, of which he
was an ocular witness. In short, I borrowed my dénouement from him.
Now "The Whites and the Blues," being a continuation of "The Companions
of Jehu," my readers will not be astonished if I again borrow from
Nodier for the beginning of my story.
During his long illness, which was simply a gradual decay of physical
and vital strength, I was one of his most constant visitors; and as, on
account of his incessant labors, he had not had the time to read my
books relating to the epoch with which he was so familiar, he sent for
the seven or eight hundred volumes while he was ill and confined to his
bed, and read them eagerly.
In proportion as he became better acquainted with my methods, his
literary confidence in me increased, until, when I spoke to him of his
own work, he would reply: "Oh! I have never had time to do more than
outline rough drafts of events which, if you had possessed the facts,
would have furnished you with material for ten volumes, instead of the
two hundred lines that I have made of them."
And thus it was that he came to relate the four pages which served me as
the foundation for the three volumes of "The Companions of Jehu," and
the anecdote of Euloge Schneider, from which he declared that I would
have made at least ten.
"But," he continued, "some day, my friend, you will write them, and if
it is true that any part of us survives, I shall rejoice yonder over
your success and shall feel that I have had some share in it."
Well, I have written "The Companions of Jehu," and since the great
success which it achieved I have been tormented with a desire to write a
great romance, entitled "The Whites and the Blues," from what he told
me, taking my point of departure for this new book from Nodier's
"Episodes de la Révolution," as I did the motive for a former one from
his "Réaction Thermidorienne."
But, as I was about to begin, I was seized by a scruple. This time I
wished not only to borrow a few pages from him, but to make him assume a
rôle in the action of the drama.
Then I wrote to my dear sister, Marie Mennessier, to request her
permission to do what I had already done once without her permission;
namely, take a graft from the paternal tree to improve my own stock.
This is what she replied:
Anything and everything that you wish, dear brother Alexandre. I
deliver my father to you with as much confidence as if he were your
own. His memory is in good hands.
MARIE MENNESSIER-NODIER.
From that moment there was nothing more to stop me; and as I had already
outlined my plot, I set to work at once.
I therefore offer this publication to-day; but in giving it to the
public, I desire to acquit myself of the following duty:
_This book is dedicated to my illustrious friend and
collaborator_,
CHARLES NODIER.
I have used the word "collaborator," because the trouble I should take
in seeking for a better would be thrown away.
ALEX. DUMAS.
THE WHITES AND THE BLUES
_PROLOGUE_
_THE PRUSSIANS ON THE RHINE_
CHAPTER I
FROM THE HÔTEL DE LA POSTE TO THE HÔTEL DE LA LANTERNE
On the 21st Frimaire of the year II. (11th of December, 1793), the
diligence from Besançon to Strasbourg stopped at nine o'clock in the
evening in the courtyard of the Hôtel de la Poste, behind the cathedral.
Five travellers descended from it, but the youngest only merits our
attention.
He was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, thin and pale, who might have been
taken for a girl dressed in boy's clothes, so sweet and melancholy was
the expression of his face. His hair, which he wore cut à la Titus--a
fashion which zealous Republicans had adopted in imitation of Talma--was
dark brown; eyelashes of the same color shaded eyes of deep blue, which
rested, with remarkable intelligence, like two interrogation points,
upon men and things. He had thin lips, fine teeth, and a charming smile,
and he was dressed in the fashion of the day, if not elegantly, at least
so carefully that it was easy to see that a woman had superintended his
toilet.
The conductor, who seemed to be particularly watchful of the boy, handed
him a small package, like a soldier's knapsack, which could be hung over
the shoulders by a pair of straps. Then, looking around, he called:
"Hallo! Is there any one here from the Hôtel de la Lanterne looking for
a young traveller from Besançon?"
"I'm here," replied a gruff, coarse voice.
And a man who looked like a groom approached. He was hardly
distinguishable in the gloom, in spite of the lantern he carried, which
lighted nothing but the pavement at his feet. He turned toward the open
door of the huge vehicle.
"Ah! so it's you, Sleepy-head," cried the conductor.
"My name's not Sleepy-head; it's Coclès," replied the groom, in a surly
tone, "and I am looking for the citizen Charles."
"You come from citizeness Teutch, don't you?" said the boy, in a soft
tone that formed an admirable contrast to the groom's surly tones.
"Yes, from the citizeness Teutch. Well, are you ready, citizen?"
"Conductor," said the boy, "you will tell them at home--"
"That you arrived safely, and that there was some one to meet you; don't
worry about that, Monsieur Charles."
"Oh, ho!" said the groom, in a tone verging upon a menace, as he drew
near the conductor and the boy.
"Well, what do you mean with your 'Oh, ho'?"
"I mean that the words you use may be all right in the Franche-Comté,
but that they are all wrong in Alsace."
"Really," said the conductor, mockingly, "you don't say so?"
"And I would advise you," continued citizen Coclès, "to leave your
_monsieurs_ in your diligence, as they are not in fashion here in
Strasbourg. Especially now that we are so fortunate as to have citizens
Lebas and Saint-Just within our walls."
"Get along with your citizens Lebas and Saint-Just! and take this young
man to the Hôtel de la Lanterne."
And, without paying further heed to the advice of citizen Coclès, the
conductor entered the Hôtel de la Poste.
The man with the torch followed the conductor with his eyes, muttering
to himself; then he turned to the boy: "Come on, citizen Charles," he
said. And he went on ahead to show the way.
Strasbourg, even at its best, was never a gay, lively town, especially
after the tattoo had been beaten for two hours; but it was duller than
ever at the time when our story opens; that is to say, during the early
part of the month of December, 1793. The Austro-Prussian army was
literally at the gates of the city. Pichegru, general-in-chief of the
Army of the Rhine, after gathering together all the scattered forces at
his command, had, by force of will and his own example, restored
discipline and resumed the offensive on the 18th Frimaire, three days
before; organizing a war of skirmishing and sharpshooting, since he was
powerless to offer battle. He had succeeded Houchard and Custine, who
had been guillotined because they had met with reverses, and Alexandre
de Beauharnais, who was also in danger of being guillotined.
Furthermore, Saint-Just and Lebas were there, not only commanding
Pichegru to conquer, but decreeing the victory. The guillotine followed
them, charged with executing their decrees the instant they were made.
And three decrees had been issued that very day.
The first one ordered the gates of Strasbourg to be closed at three
o'clock in the afternoon; anyone who delayed their closing, if only for
five minutes, did so under pain of death.
The second decree forbade any one to flee before the enemy. The rider
who put his horse to a gallop, or the foot-soldier who retreated faster
than a walk, when turning his back on the enemy on the field of battle,
thereby incurred the penalty of death.
The third decree, which was due to fear of being surprised by the enemy,
forbade any soldier to remove his clothing at night. Any soldier who
disobeyed this order, no matter what his rank, was condemned to death.
The boy who had just entered the city was destined to see each of these
three decrees carried into effect within six days after his arrival in
the city.
As we have said, all these circumstances, added to the news which had
just arrived from Paris, increased the natural gloominess of the city.
This news told of the deaths of the queen, the Duc d'Orléans, Madame
Roland, and Bailly.
There was talk of the speedy recapture of Toulon from the English, but
this was as yet a mere rumor.
Neither was the hour liable to make Strasbourg appear to advantage in
the new-comer's eyes. After nine o'clock in the evening the dark, narrow
streets were wholly given up to the patrol of the civic guard and of the
company of the Propagande, who were watching over the public welfare.
Nothing, in fact, could be more depressing and mournful to a traveller
newly arrived from a town which is neither in a state of war nor on the
frontier than the sound of the nocturnal tramp of an organized body,
stopping suddenly at an order given in a muffled tone, and accompanied
by the clashing of arms and the exchange of the password each time two
squads met.
Two or three of these patrols had already passed our young traveller and
his guide, when they met another, which brought them to a halt with the
challenging, "Who goes there?"
In Strasbourg there were three different ways of replying to this
challenge, which indicated in a sufficiently characteristic way the
varying opinions. The indifferent ones replied, "Friends!" The
moderates, "Citizens!" The fanatics, "Sans Culottes!"
"Sans Culottes!" Coclès energetically answered the guard.
"Advance and give the watchword!" cried an imperious voice.
"Ah, good!" said Coclès, "I recognize that voice; it belongs to citizen
Tétrell. Leave this to me."
"Who is citizen Tétrell?" asked the boy.
"The friend of the people, the terror of the aristocrats, an
out-and-outer." Then, advancing like a man who has nothing to fear, he
said: "It is I, citizen Tétrell!"
"Ah! you know me," said the leader of the patrol, a giant of five feet
ten, who reached something like a height of seven feet with his hat and
the plume which surmounted it.
"Indeed I do," exclaimed Coclès. "Who does not know citizen Tétrell in
Strasbourg?" Then, approaching the colossus, he added: "Good-evening,
citizen Tétrell."
"It's all very well for you to know me," said the giant, "but I don't
know you."
"Oh, yes you do! I am citizen Coclès, who was called Sleepy-head in the
days of the tyrant; it was you yourself who baptized me with the name
when your horses and dogs were at the Hôtel de la Lanterne. Sleepy-head!
What, you don't remember Sleepy-head?"
"Why, of course I do; I called you that because you were the laziest
rascal I ever knew. And who is this young fellow?"
"He," said Coclès, raising his torch to the level of the boy's face--"he
is a little chap whom his father has sent to Euloge Schneider to learn
Greek."
"And who is your father, my little friend?" asked Tétrell.
"He is president of the tribunal at Besançon, citizen," replied the lad.
"But one must know Latin to learn Greek."
The boy drew himself up and said: "I do know it."
"What, you know it?"
"Yes, when I was at Besançon my father and I never spoke anything but
Latin."
"The devil! You seem to be pretty well advanced for one of your age. How
old are you? Eleven or twelve?"
"I am almost fourteen."
"And what made your father send you to Euloge Schneider to learn Greek?"
"Because my father does not know Greek as well as he does Latin. He
taught me all he knew, then he sent me to Euloge Schneider, who speaks
Greek fluently, having occupied the chair of Greek at Bonn. See, this is
the letter my father gave me for him. Besides, he wrote him a week ago,
informing him that I would arrive this evening, and it was he who
ordered my room to be made ready at the Hôtel de la Lanterne, and sent
citizen Coclès to fetch me."
As he spoke the boy handed citizen Tétrell the letter, to prove that he
had told him nothing but the truth.
"Come, Sleepy-head, bring your light nearer," said Tétrell.
"Coclès, Coclès," insisted the groom, obeying his former friend's order
nevertheless.
"My young friend," said Tétrell, "may I call your attention to the fact
that this letter is not addressed to citizen Schneider but to citizen
Pichegru?"
"Ah! I beg pardon, I made a mistake; my father gave me two letters and I
have handed you the wrong one." Then, taking back the first letter, he
gave him a second.
"Ah! this time we are right," said Tétrell. "To the citizen Euloge
Schneider."
"Éloge Schneider," repeated Coclès, correcting in his own way the first
name of the public prosecutor, which he thought Tétrell had
mispronounced.
"Give your guide a lesson in Greek," laughed the leader of the patrol,
"and tell him that the name Euloge means--come, my lad, what does it
mean?"
"A fine speaker," replied the boy.
"Well answered, upon my word! do you hear, Sleepy-head?"
"Coclès," repeated the groom, obstinately, more difficult to convince
regarding his own name than concerning that of the public prosecutor.
In the meantime Tétrell had drawn the boy aside, and, bending down until
he could whisper in his ear, he said: "Are you going to the Hôtel de la
Lanterne?"
"Yes, citizen," replied the child.
"You will find two of your compatriots there, who have come here to
defend and reclaim the adjutant-general, Charles Perrin, who is accused
of treason."
"Yes, citizens Dumont and Ballu."
"That's right. Well, tell them that not only have they nothing to hope
for their client, but their stay here bodes them no good. It is merely a
question of their heads. Do you understand?"
"No, I do not understand," replied the boy.
"What! don't you understand that Saint-Just will have their heads cut
off like two chickens if they remain? Advise them to go, and the sooner
the better."
"Shall I tell them that you said so?"
"No, indeed! For them to make me pay for the broken pots, or, rather,
for the pots that are not broken." Then, straightening up, he cried:
"Very well, you are good citizens, go your way. Come, march, you
others!"
And citizen Tétrell went off at the head of his patrol, leaving Coclès
very proud of having talked for ten minutes with a man of such
importance, and citizen Charles much disturbed by the confidence which
had just been reposed in him. Both continued their way in silence.
The weather was dark and gloomy, as it is apt to be in December in the
north and east of France; and although the moon was nearly at its full,
great black clouds swept across its face like equinoctial waves. To
reach the Hôtel de la Lanterne, which was in the street formerly called
the Rue de l'Archévêque, and was now known as the Rue de la Déesse
Raison, they had to cross the market square, at the extremity of which
rose a huge scaffolding, against which the boy, in his abstraction,
almost stumbled.
"Take care, citizen Charles," said the groom, laughing, "you will knock
down the guillotine."
The boy gave a cry and drew back in terror. Just then the moon shone out
brilliantly for a few seconds. For an instant the horrible instrument
was visible and a pale, sad ray quivered upon its blade.
"My God! do they use it?" asked the boy, ingenuously, drawing closer to
the groom.
"What! do they use it?" the latter replied, gayly; "I should think so,
and every day at that. It was Mother Raisin's turn to-day. In spite of
her eighty years she ended her life there. It didn't do her any good to
tell the executioner: 'It's not worth while killing me, my son; wait a
bit and I'll die by myself.' She was slivered like the rest."
"What had the poor woman done?"
"She gave a bit of bread to a starving Austrian. She said that he had
asked her in German and so she thought he was a compatriot, but it was
no use. They replied that since the time of I don't know what tyrant,
the Alsatians and the Austrians were not compatriots."
The poor child, who had left home for the first time, and who had never
experienced so many varying emotions in the course of one evening,
suddenly felt cold. Was it the effect of the weather or of Coclès'
story? Whatever it was he threw a final glance at the instrument, which,
as the moonbeams faded, retreated into the night like a shadow, and then
asked, with chattering teeth: "Are we far from the Lanterne?"
"Faith, no; for here it is," replied Coclès, pointing to an enormous
lantern hanging over the doorway, which lighted the street for twenty
feet around it.
"It's time," said the boy, with a shiver.
And, running the rest of the way, he opened the door of the hotel and
darted into the kitchen, where a great fire burning in an immense
chimney-piece drew forth a cry of satisfaction from him. Madame Teutch
answered the exclamation with a similar one, for, although she had never
seen him, she recognized in him the young boy who had been recommended
to her care, as she saw Coclès appear in turn on the threshold with his
light.