THE GALLEY-SLAVE AND THE GENERAL.
About eighteen months have elapsed since the memorable day of the
imposing ceremonies described in the previous chapter, that were so rich
with splendid promises to France--and all the world. It is after the
lapse of that period that we are now to meet again Marik Lebrenn and his
family.
The following scene was taking place in the early part of the month of
September, in 1849, at the convict-prison of Rochefort.
The meal hour had sounded. The convicts were eating.
One of the galley-slaves, attired like all the others in the regulation
red vest and red cap, with the _manille_, or iron ring fastened to a
heavy chain, on his feet, sat on a stone, and was biting into a chunk of
black bread.
The galley-slave was Marik Lebrenn.
He had been sentenced to hard labor by a council of war after the June
insurrection of 1848.
The merchant's features preserved their usual expression of serenity and
firmness. The only change in him was that his face, exposed during his
arduous work to the scorching heat of the sun on the water, had
acquired, one might say, the color of brick.
A guard, with sword at his side and cane in hand, after having looked
over several groups of convicts, stopped, as if he were in search of
someone, and then, pointing with his cane in the direction of Marik
Lebrenn, called out:
"Halloa, down there--number eleven hundred and twenty!"
The merchant continued to eat his black bread with a hearty appetite and
did not answer.
"Number eleven hundred and twenty!" repeated the guard in a louder
voice. "Don't you hear me, scamp!"
Continued silence on the part of Lebrenn.
Grumbling and put out at being obliged to take a few more steps, the
guard approached Lebrenn at a rapid pace, and touching him with the end
of his cane, addressed him roughly:
"The devil! Are you deaf? Answer me, you brute!"
As Lebrenn felt himself touched by the guard's cane his face lowered,
but quickly suppressing the impulse to anger and indignation, he
answered calmly:
"What do you want?"
"I called you twice--eleven hundred and twenty! And you did not answer.
Do you expect to escape me in that way? Look out!"
"Come, be not so brutal!" answered Lebrenn, shrugging his shoulders. "I
did not answer you because I have not yet become accustomed to hearing
myself called by any but my own name--and I am always forgetting that my
present name is _eleven hundred and twenty_."
"Enough of argumentation! Step up, and come to the Commissioner of
Marine."
"What for?"
"None of your business. Step up! march! quick!"
"I follow you," said Lebrenn with imperturbable calmness.
After crossing a part of the port, the guard, followed closely by the
galley-slave, arrived at the door of the Commissioner in charge of the
convicts.
"Will you kindly notify the Commissioner that I have brought him number
eleven hundred and twenty?" said the guard to one of the keepers at the
door.
A minute later the keeper returned, ordered the merchant to follow him,
led him down a long corridor, and opening the door of a richly furnished
room, said to Lebrenn:
"Walk in, and wait there."
"How is that?" asked the astonished merchant. "You leave me alone?"
"The Commissioner so ordered me."
"The devil!" exclaimed Lebrenn smiling. "This is a mark of confidence
that flatters me greatly."
The keeper closed the door and left.
"Once more, the devil!" said Lebrenn with a broader grin as his eyes
alighted upon an inviting arm-chair. "This is a good opportunity for me
to enjoy a more comfortable seat than the stone benches of the prison
yard."
And comfortably dropping into the soft seat he proceeded:
"No question about it, a good arm-chair is one of the comforts of life."
At that moment a side door opened and Lebrenn saw a tall man in the
uniform of Brigadier General--blue coat, gold epaulettes and dark brown
trousers--enter the apartment.
At the sight of the staff officer, Lebrenn was seized with surprise, sat
up straight, and cried:
"Monsieur Plouernel!"
"Who did not forget the evening of February 23, 1848, monsieur,"
answered the General, stepping forward, and cordially extending his hand
to Lebrenn. The latter took the proffered hand, and, while doing so, saw
and considered the meaning of the two silver stars that ornamented the
Count of Plouernel's epaulettes. With a smile of good-natured irony the
merchant replied:
"You have become a General in the service of the Republic, monsieur, and
I a galley-slave! You must admit, this is piquant."
The Count of Plouernel contemplated the merchant with astonishment. He
had expected to see him either utterly dejected, or in a state of
violent indignation. He found him calm, smiling and witty.
"Well, monsieur," proceeded Lebrenn, keeping his seat while the General,
standing before him, continued to contemplate the man with increasing
wonderment. "Well, monsieur, it is almost eighteen months since that
evening of February 23, which it has pleased you to recall to memory!
Who would then have thought that we would have met again in the
position in which we find ourselves to-day!"
"Such fortitude!" exclaimed the Count of Plouernel. "This is heroism!"
"Not at all, monsieur--it is simply a matter of a clean conscience, and
of confidence."
"Confidence!"
"Yes. I am calm because I have faith in the cause to which I devoted my
life--and because my conscience assails me with no reproaches."
"And yet--you are in this place, monsieur."
"I pity the error of my judges."
"You--the incarnation of honor, in the livery of infamy!"
"Bah! That does not affect me."
"Far from your wife, from your children!"
"They are as often here with me as I am with them. The body is chained
and separated, but the spirit laughs at chains and space."
And interrupting himself, Lebrenn added:
"But, monsieur, kindly inform me by what accident I see you here. The
Commissioner of the prison sent for me. Was it only to afford me the
honor of receiving your visit?"
"You would misjudge me, monsieur," answered the General, "were you to
believe that, after owing my life to you, I could come here with no
other motive than that of idle and offensive curiosity."
"I shall not do you such an injustice, monsieur. You are, I presume, on
a tour of inspection?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"I presume you learned I was here in prison, and you came, perhaps, to
offer me your good offices?"
"Better yet, monsieur."
"Better yet? Pray, what do you mean? You seem to feel embarrassed."
"Indeed--I am; very much so--" replied the General, visibly put out of
countenance by the calmness and easy manners of the galley-slave.
"Revolutions often bring about bizarre situations."
"Bizarre situations?"
"Yes," replied the General; "the situation in which we two find
ourselves at this moment, for instance."
"Oh, we already have exhausted the obvious bizarreness of fate,
monsieur!" remarked the merchant smiling. "That, under the Republic, I,
an old republican, should be found on the galley-bench, while you, a
republican of recent date, should have been promoted to the rank of
General--that is, no doubt, bizarre, we are agreed upon that. What
else?"
"My embarrassment proceeds from another reason, monsieur."
"Which?"
"It happens--that--" answered the General, hesitatingly.
"It happens that?"
"I applied--"
"You applied--for what, monsieur?"
"And obtained--"
"A pardon for me!" cried Lebrenn. "Why, that's charming!"
And the situation brought about by the whirligig of politics was so
droll that the merchant could not refrain from laughing heartily.
"Yes, monsieur," the General proceeded, "I have asked and obtained your
pardon--you are free. Mine has been the honor of carrying the news to
you personally."
"One word of explanation, monsieur," said the merchant in a tone of
lofty seriousness. "I do not accept pardon; but, however tardy, I do
accept atoning justice."
"What do you mean?"
"If, at the time of the fatal June insurrection, I had shared the views
of those of my brothers who are here in prison with me, I would decline
to accept a pardon. After having done like them, I would remain here as
they, and with them!"
"Nevertheless, monsieur, your conviction--"
"Was iniquitous. I shall prove it to you in a few words. At the time of
the June insurrection, last year, I was a captain in my legion. I
responded without arms to the call issued by the National Guard. There I
declared loudly, very loudly, that it was only _without arms_ that I
would march at the head of my company, my purpose being not to engage in
a bloody conflict, but to endeavor to convince my brothers, that,
notwithstanding they were exasperated by misery, by a deplorable
misunderstanding, and above all by atrocious deceptions, they should
never forget that the people's sovereignty was inviolable, and that, so
long as the power which represented the same had not been legally
impeached and convicted of treason, to revolt against that power, to
attack it with arms instead of overthrowing it by means of the universal
suffrage, was a suicidal act, and was an impeachment of popular
sovereignty itself.[10] About one-half of my company shared my views and
followed my example. While other citizens were charging us with treason,
bare-headed, unarmed, our hands fraternally linked, we advanced towards
the first barricade in our path. The guns were raised at our
approach--we were heard. Already our brothers understood that, however
legitimate their grievances, an insurrection would mean the immediate
triumph of the enemies of the Republic. At that juncture a hail of
bullets rained down upon the barricade behind which we were parleying.
Ignorant, no doubt, of this circumstance, a battalion of the line had
attacked the position. Taken by surprise, the insurgents defended
themselves heroically. The larger number were slain, a few were made
prisoners. Confounded among the latter, several others of my own company
and myself were seized and treated as insurgents. If I, thrown along
with several friends of mine, into the underground dungeons of the
Tuileries and kept there three days and nights, did not go crazy; if I
preserved my reason, it was that, in the spirit, I was with my wife and
children. Dragged before the military tribunal I there told the truth;
they did not believe me. I was sent to this place. So you see, monsieur,
it is not pardon that is granted to me, but tardy justice. Nevertheless,
that does not prevent me from being grateful to you for the efforts you
have put forth in my behalf. Well, then, I am free?"
"The Commissioner of Marine will be here presently; he will confirm what
I have said to you. You can leave this place to-day--this hour."
"Now, monsieur, finding you so well entrenched at court--the republican
court," the merchant proceeded to say, smiling, "I wish you would be
kind enough to use your good offices with the Commissioner that he grant
me a favor which he may be inclined to refuse."
"I am at your service, monsieur."
"You see this iron ring that I carry on my leg, and to which my chain is
fastened? Now, then, I would like to be allowed to take this ring with
me. I shall pay for it, of course."
"How! That ring! You would like to preserve it?"
"It is merely a collector's mania, monsieur. I already own several small
historic curiosities--among others the casque which you so kindly
presented to me as a souvenir. I would like to join to them the iron
ring of the political galley-slave. You will understand, monsieur, that,
to me and my family, the two curiosities together will mean a good
deal."
"Nothing easier, I believe, monsieur, than to meet your wishes. I shall
so notify the Commissioner. But allow me a question--it may be
indiscreet."
"What is it, monsieur?"
"I remember that eighteen months ago--and many a time and oft have I
recalled the incident--I remember that, when I asked you to keep my
casque as a memento of your generous conduct towards me, you answered--"
"That that would not be the only article from your family that my
collection contained; not so?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"I told you the truth."
"You also told me, I believe, monsieur, that the Nerowegs of
Plouernel--"
"Had several times, in the course of the ages and of events, encountered
several members of my obscure slave, serf, vassal or plebeian family,"
the merchant put in, completing the sentence of the Count of Plouernel.
"That is also true, monsieur."
"And what were the occasions? What the circumstances? How come you to be
informed on events that took place so very long ago?"
"Permit me, monsieur, to keep that secret, and pardon me for having so
thoughtlessly awakened in you a curiosity that I may not satisfy. Still
laboring under the intoxicating influence of that day of triumphant
civil war, and of the singular fatality that brought us, you and me,
face to face, an allusion to the past escaped my lips. I regret it,
because, I repeat--there are family remembrances that must never go
outside of the domestic hearth."
"I shall not insist, monsieur," said the Count of Plouernel.
And after a moment's hesitation he added:
"I have another question, also, I presume, indiscreet--"
"I listen, monsieur."
"What do you think of seeing me serve the Republic?"
"Such a question demands a frank answer."
"I know you are incapable of making any other, monsieur."
"Well, I think you have no faith in the continuance of the Republic.
Your policy is to turn to the best use you can, in the interest of your
own party, the authority that the present government entrusts to you
and many others. In short, you expect, at a given moment, to utilize
your position in the army in favor of the return of _your master_, as
you call, I believe, that big boy, the last of the Capets and of the
Frankish Kings by the right of conquest. The government is placing in
your hands weapons against the Republic. You accept them; it is all fair
in war, from your viewpoint. As to me, I hate the monarchy of divine
right by reason of the ills with which it has scourged my country. I
have fought it with all my strength; nevertheless, never would I have
served it with the intention of ruining it. Never would I have worn its
livery, or its colors."
"Monsieur, I do not wear the livery of the Republic," answered General
Plouernel warmly. "I wear the uniform of the Army."
"Come, monsieur," replied the merchant, smiling, "admit it, without
reproach, that, for a soldier, what you have just said is, perhaps, a
little--a little _priestlike_. But let that pass--everyone serves his
cause in his own fashion. Besides, as you see, here we are, we two--you
decked in the insignia of power and of force; I, a poor man, dragging a
galley-slave's chain, the very same as, fifteen hundred years ago, my
forefathers wore the slave's iron ring. Your party is powerful and
influential. It enjoys the good wishes and would, at a pinch, enjoy the
material support of the monarchists of Europe. It owns wealth; it has
the clergy on its side; furthermore, the waverers, the camp-followers,
the cynics, the ambitious of all previous regimes, have rallied to your
side in the fear that popular sovereignty inspires them with. They
proclaim aloud that, rather than democracy, they prefer the monarchy of
divine right and absolute such as existed before 1789, even if it be
necessary to have it supported by a permanent army of Cossacks. On the
other hand, those of my party and I have implicit faith in the triumph
of democracy."
The entrance of the Commissioner of Marine put an end to the
conversation between the General and the merchant. The latter obtained
without difficulty, thanks to the intervention of his "protector,"
permission to take with him his iron ring, his _manille_ as the thing is
called in the galleys.
That same evening Marik Lebrenn proceeded to Paris.