SAINT-JUST
The night passed, as we have seen, without anything being heard from
Tétrell; the day passed also. At five o'clock in the afternoon, as they
had received no news, Eugene and Augereau resolved to go where they
could get some information. They returned to the Hôtel de la Lanterne,
and there they heard some indeed.
Madame Teutch, in despair, told them that her little Charles had been
arrested at eight o'clock in the morning, and taken to prison. All day
she had waited to see Saint-Just, and had been unable to do so until
five o'clock in the afternoon, when she had given him Charles's note.
Saint-Just had said to her: "Very well, if what you have told me is true
he shall be set at liberty to-morrow."
Madame Teutch had come away with some slight hope; citizen Saint-Just
did not seem as ferocious as he was reported to be.
Charles, although he was sure of his innocence, since he had never had
anything to do with politics in his whole life, grew impatient as the
day passed without bringing him any news; but his impatience changed to
uneasiness when the whole morning of the next day passed and the
representative of the people did not send for him.
Saint-Just was not to blame, for he was one of the most scrupulous men
in the world where a promise was concerned. A grand tour of inspection
had been decided upon for the next day at dawn, that he might ascertain
whether the orders he had given were being carried out. He did not
return to his hotel until one o'clock, and then, remembering the promise
he had given, he sent word to the prison that little Charles should be
brought to him.
Saint-Just had been wet to the skin during the morning's excursion, and
when the boy entered his room he was just putting the finishing touches
to his fresh toilet by tying his cravat.
The cravat, as is well known, was the essential point of Saint-Just's
toilet. It was a scaffolding of muslin from which rose a handsome head,
and it was partially intended to conceal the immense development of the
jaws, which is often noticeable in beasts of prey and in conquerors. The
most remarkable feature about Saint-Just's face was his large, limpid
eyes, earnest, deep, and questioning, shadowed by heavy eyebrows which
met above the nose whenever he frowned in impatience or, preoccupation.
He had the pale complexion of that grayish tint so common to many of
those laborious toilers of the Revolution, who, fearing a premature
death, added nights to days in order to finish the terrible work which
the genius that watches over the grandeur of nations, and which we dare
call Providence, had intrusted to them. His lips were soft and fleshy,
as befitted those of the sensual man whose first literary effort had
expressed itself in an obscene book, but who, by a prodigious effort of
will, had succeeded in dominating his temperament, and in imposing upon
himself a life of continence as far as women were concerned. While
adjusting his cravat, or arranging the silky ends of his magnificent
hair, he dictated to a secretary the orders, decrees, laws, and
judgments which were destined to cover the walls of the most frequented
squares, crossroads, and streets of Strasbourg, and which were posted in
two languages.
In fact, so great was the sovereign, absolute, and aristocratic power of
the representatives of the people who were sent to the armies, that they
thought no more of cutting off heads than of switching off the top of
some wayside plant. But that which rendered the style of Saint-Just's
decrees remarkable was their conciseness and the brief, sonorous, and
vibrating voice in which he pronounced them. The first time that he
spoke in the Convention, he demanded the king's arrest; and at the first
words of the speech, cold, sharp, and cutting as steel, there was not
one present who did not feel with a shudder that the king was doomed.
When his cravat was tied Saint-Just turned to put on his coat, and saw
the boy who was waiting.
He looked at him, trying to remember who he was; and then, suddenly
pointing to the mantel-piece, he asked: "Was it you whom they arrested
yesterday morning, and who sent me a note by the landlady of your inn?"
"Yes, citizen," answered Charles; "it was I."
"Then the men who arrested you allowed you to write to me?"
"I wrote before I was arrested."
"How was that?"
"I knew that I was going to be arrested."
"And you did not hide yourself?"
"What for? I was innocent, and they say that you are just."
Saint-Just looked at the boy in silence. He himself looked very young
just then, with his shirt of whitest linen and large sleeves, his white
waistcoat, and his artistically tied cravat.
"Are your parents emigrants?"
"No, citizen; my parents are not aristocrats."
"What are they?"
"My father presides over the tribunal of Besamjon, and my uncle is
commander of a battalion."
"How old are you?"
"A little over thirteen."
"Come nearer."
The boy obeyed.
"Upon my word, it's true," said Saint-Just; "he looks like a little
girl. But you must have done something to be arrested."
"Two of my compatriots, citizens Ballu and Dumont, came to Strasbourg to
secure the release of Adjutant-General Perrin. I knew that they were to
be arrested during the night, and I sent them a little note of warning.
My handwriting was recognized. I thought I was doing right. I appeal to
your heart, citizen Saint-Just!"
Saint-Just placed his hand, which was as white and well cared for as
that of a woman, upon the boy's shoulder.
"You are still a child," he replied, "and I will only say this: There is
a sentiment even more holy than love of one's countrymen; it is love of
one's country. Before being citizens of the same town we are children of
the same country. A day will come when reason will have advanced
sufficiently to value humanity more than patriotism, when all men will
be brothers, all nations as sisters, when tyrants will be the only
enemies. You yielded to an honorable sentiment, the love of your
neighbor, which is enjoined by the Evangelist; but in yielding to it you
have forgotten a sentiment which is yet higher, more sacred, more
sublime. Devotion to your country should come before everything else.
If these men were enemies of their country, if they had transgressed its
laws, you should not have interfered between them and the knife. I have
no right to set myself up as an example, being one of the humblest
servants of liberty; but I serve her according to my ability, I cause
her to triumph whenever it lies within my power to do so; that is my
sole ambition. Why am I to-day so calm and so proud of myself? It is
because I have this very day, at the price of my own heart's blood,
given a proof of respect for the law which I myself made."
He paused a moment to make sure that the child was listening
attentively. The boy did not lose a syllable. On the contrary, as if
already preparing to transmit them to posterity, he was storing in his
memory the words which fell from that strong mouth. Saint-Just
continued:
"Since the shameful panic of Eisemberg, I issued a decree which forbade
any soldier or officer to go to bed without being fully clothed. Well,
on my tour of inspection this morning I looked forward to meeting a
friend from my own part of the country, coming, like me, from the
department of the Aisne; like me, from Blérancourt; and, like me again,
a pupil in the college of Soissons. His regiment arrived yesterday, in
the village of Schiltigheim. I directed my course therefore toward the
village, and asked in what house Prosper Lenormand was lodged. It was
pointed out to me, and I hastened thither. His room was on the first
floor, and, although I have great control over myself, my heart beat
high, as I mounted the stairs, at the thought of seeing my friend again
after five years of separation. I entered the first room, calling out:
'Prosper! Prosper! Where are you? It is your old chum, Saint-Just.'
"I had no sooner spoken than the door opened, and a young man, clad only
in his night-shirt, threw himself into my arms, crying: 'Saint-Just; my
dear Saint-Just!'
"I wept as I pressed him to my heart, for that heart was about to
receive a terrible blow.
"The friend of my childhood, whom I now saw for the first time after
five years--he whom I had sought out myself, so eager was I to meet him
again--he had violated the law which I had promulgated only three days
before. He had incurred the death penalty.
"Then my heart yielded before the power of my will, and, turning to
those present, I said calmly: 'Heaven be doubly praised, since I have
seen you again, and since I can give, in the person of one so dear to
me, a memorable lesson of discipline and a grand example of justice by
sacrificing you to the public safety.'
"Then, speaking to those who accompanied me, I said: 'Do your duty.'
"I then embraced Prosper for the last time, and at a sign from me they
conducted him out of the room."
"What for?" asked Charles.
"To shoot him. Was he not forbidden, under penalty of death, to go to
bed with his clothes off?"
"But you pardoned him?" asked Charles, moved to tears.
"Ten minutes later he was dead."
Charles uttered a cry of terror.
"Your heart is still weak, poor child; read Plutarch and you will become
a man. And what are you doing in Strasbourg?"
"I am studying, citizen," replied the child. "I have only been here
three days."
"And what are you studying in Strasbourg?"
"Greek."
"It seems to me it would be more logical to study German. Besides, of
what use is Greek, since the Lacedæmonians have written nothing?" Then,
after a moment of silence, during which he continued to look curiously
at the boy, he asked: "And who is the learned man who gives lessons in
Greek in Strasbourg?"
"Euloge Schneider," answered Charles.
"What! Euloge Schneider knows Greek?" asked Saint-Just.
"He is one of the first Greek scholars of the day; he has translated
Anacreon."
"The Monk of Cologne," exclaimed Saint-Just. "Euloge Schneider a Greek
scholar! Well, so be it; go learn Greek of Euloge Schneider. But if I
thought," he continued in a quivering voice, "that you would learn
anything else of him I would rather strangle you."
Stunned by this outburst, the boy stood silent and motionless, leaning
against the wall like a tapestried figure.
"Oh!" cried Saint-Just, becoming more and more excited, "it is
traffickers like him, with his Greek, who destroy the holy cause of the
Revolution. It is they who send forth mandates to arrest children
thirteen years of age because they lodge in the same inn where the
police have found two suspected travellers. It is thus that these
wretches seek to curry favor with the Mountain. Ah, I swear to Heaven
that I will soon do justice to these attempts which endanger our most
precious liberties. There is urgent need of prompt justice, which shall
serve as an example; I will execute it. They dare to reproach me with
not giving them enough corpses to devour. I will give them some! The
Propagande wishes blood! It shall have it. And, to begin with, I will
bathe it in the blood of its leaders. If I can only find a pretext, if I
can only have justice on my side, they shall see!"
Saint-Just, losing his cold calmness, became terrible in his threats;
his eyebrows met and his nostrils dilated like those of a hunted lion;
his complexion turned ashen; he seemed to be looking for something
animate or inanimate to crush.
Just then a messenger, who had recently dismounted, as could be seen
from the splashes of mud flecking his garments, entered precipitately,
and, approaching Saint-Just, said a few words to him in an undertone. At
these words an expression of joy, mingled with doubt, flitted across the
representative's face. The news which had just been brought to him was
so welcome that he dared not believe it.