Cadoudal exchanged a few words with his comrades, and four of them, who were not mounted and who acted as officers to carry his orders into the underbrush and heather, glided away immediately, and passing between the thorn bushes, reached the foot of two sturdy oaks, whose broad branches and thick foliage made a rampart against the sun. These two oaks stood at the two ends of the avenue which the road coming from the town to the crossroad formed.
When they reached this spot, they paused, ready to execute some manœuvre, which no one who did not know the general's plan of battle could have divined.
Diane's carriage was drawn into the crossroad, and she herself was stationed on a little knoll some thirty paces from the road, among a cluster of trees, where she could see without being seen.
The chasseurs and hussars advanced cautiously at a foot-pace. An advance-guard of ten men preceded them, and,like the rest of the troop, marched with the greatest caution. When the last man had left the town, a shot was heard, and a man in the rear-guard fell. This was a signal. The two crests of the ravine which formed the road blazed forth fire. The Blues sought in vain for the enemy who had attacked them. They saw the fire and the smoke, and they felt the bullets, but they could distinguish neither the weapon nor the man who carried it. Confusion seized upon them once they felt themselves the prey of an invisible foe. Each one sought, not to escape death, but to give death for death. Some retraced their steps, others forced their horses to climb the slope; but no sooner did a man's head rise above the crest of the slope than he was shot at close quarters and fell back, overturning his horse with him like the Amazons in Rubens' "Battle of Thermodon."
Others again, and they were the more numerous, pushed forward, hoping to pass the ambush and thus escape the net which had trapped them. But Cadoudal, when he saw this movement, for which he had apparently been waiting, set spurs to his horse, and galloped out, followed by his forty men, to meet them. They fought along the road for about two hundred yards.
Those who attempted to turn back found the way barred by Chouans, who discharged their pieces in their faces and forced them to return. Finally those who pushed forward came in contact with Cadoudal and his men. But after a few moments the latter appeared to give way and fled.
The Blues at once started in pursuit. But scarcely had the last Chouan passed the two great oaks which were guarded by the four men than they began to push with all their strength, and the two giants, which had been previously separated from their roots with an axe, bent toward each other and fell with crashing branches and a tremendous noise upon the road, which they thus closed by an impassable barrier. The Blues were following the Whites so closely that two of their number, together with their horses, were crushed by the falling trees.
The same manœuvre took place at the other end of the road. Two trees dislodged from their bases fell across the road, and their interlacing branches formed a barrier like that which had just closed up the other end of the road. Thus men and horses were caught as in a huge arena, and each Chouan could choose his man, aim at discretion, and bring him down without fail.
Cadoudal and his forty horsemen discarded their horses, which were now useless, and, rifle in hand, were about to join in the struggle, when Mademoiselle de Fargas, who was watching the sanguinary drama with all the ardor of her lion-like nature, suddenly heard the gallop of a horse coming along the road from Vitré, and, turning, she recognized the man with whom she had travelled.
When he saw that Georges and his companions were about to join in the fray, he attracted their attention by shouting: "Stop! Wait for me!"
And no sooner had he joined them, amid cries of welcome, than he leaped from his horse, tossed the bridle to a Chouan to hold, and threw himself upon Cadoudal's neck. Then he selected a rifle, filled his pockets with cartridges, and followed by twenty men, Cadoudal taking the others, he darted into the thicket which lined the left bank of the road, while the general disappeared on the right side.
The redoubled fusillade announced the arrival of these reinforcements for the Whites.
Mademoiselle de Fargas was too much absorbed in watching what was passing before her to pay much attention to Monsieur d'Argentan's conduct. She understood simply that the pretended tax-gatherer of Dinan was in reality a disguised royalist—which fact explained why he was bringing money from Paris to Brittany, instead of sending it from Brittany to Paris.
The heroic efforts of this little band of five hundred men would furnish material for an epic poem.
Their courage was all the greater as they were, as we have said, fighting against an invisible danger, calling toit, defying it, and shrieking with rage because it would not rise up before them. Nothing could make the Chouans change their deadly tactics. Death flew whistling by, and the Blues simply saw the smoke and heard the report. A man would throw up his hands and fall back in the saddle, and the frightened riderless animal would dash wildly into the thicket and gallop madly on until an invisible hand checked him, and tied his bridle to the branch of a tree.
Here and there in the fields some one of these horses could be seen rearing and tugging at his bridle, trying to escape from the strange master who had just made him prisoner. The butchery lasted an hour. At the end of that time, they heard the drums beating the charge. It was the infantry coming to the assistance of the cavalry.
Colonel Hulot commanded in person. His first care, with the infallible glance of a veteran, had been to get an accurate idea of the ground, and to open an exit for the unfortunates who were confined in this sort of a tunnel into which the Chouans had converted the road.
He had the horses unharnessed from the gun-carriages, the artillery being useless for the sort of combat upon which they were about to engage. The horses were then attached to the fallen trees, which they dragged from their transverse position across the road, thus opening a means of retreat for the stricken cavalry. Then he sent five hundred men to charge along the road, with levelled bayonets, just as if the enemy had been in sight. He ordered the most expert of his sharpshooters to return shot for shot—in other words, whenever a puff of smoke appeared they were to fire straight at it, since it denoted that a man was lying in ambush at that spot. This was almost the only way to reply to the fusillade of the Whites, who almost invariably shot from cover, and rarely showed themselves save at the moment of taking aim. Habit, and, above all, necessity, had made many of the Republican soldiers exceedingly skilful at this quick exchange of shots.
Sometimes the men upon whom they retaliated werekilled outright. Sometimes when they fired by guesswork, they were only wounded. In that case they would not move. Their shots were forgotten in the turmoil, and the soldiers frequently passed very near them without discovering them. The Chouans were noted for their marvellous courage in stifling groans which their insufferable agony would have elicited from any other soldier.
The fight lasted until the first shades of night were falling. Diane, who did not lose a single incident, fumed with impatience at not being able to take part in it. She would have liked to don male attire, arm herself with a gun, and rush upon the Republicans, whom she hated. But her costume, and, above all, the lack of a weapon, rendered her helpless.
About seven o'clock Colonel Hulot ordered the retreat to be sounded. In this kind of warfare day was dangerous, but night was more than dangerous, it was fatal.
The sounds of the trumpets and the drums, announcing the retreat, redoubled the ardor of the Chouans. Thus to abandon the field of battle and return to the town was an avowal on the part of the Republicans that they were beaten.
Shots accompanied them to the very gates of La Guerche, leaving three or four hundred dead on the field, ignorant of the losses which the Chouans had sustained, and without a single prisoner—to the intense chagrin of François Goulin, who had succeeded in getting his instrument inside the town, and who had taken it to the other end of the town in order to be near the scene of battle.
All his efforts were now useless, and François Goulin took up his lodgings in a house where he need not lose sight of his precious machine.
Since they had left Paris, neither officer nor soldier had chosen to lodge in the house of the commissioner extraordinary. He had been given a guard of twelve men, and that was all. Four men guarded the guillotine.
The day had had no material results for Cadoudal and his men, but the moral effect was immense. All the great Vendéan chiefs had disappeared: Stofflet and Charette were dead; the Abbé Bernier had yielded, as we have said; and, finally, the Vendée had been pacificated by the genius and patience of General Hoche. And we have seen how Hoche himself had disturbed Bonaparte in far-off Italy by offering men and money to the Directory.
Of the Chouannerie and the Vendée, the Chouannerie alone remained. Cadoudal was the only one of the chiefs who had refused to bend the knee. He had published his manifesto and announced that he had taken up arms again. Then, besides the troops still remaining in the Vendée and Brittany, they had sent six thousand men against him.
Cadoudal, with a thousand men, had not only held at bay six thousand veterans who had seen five years of active warfare, but he had driven them back to the town whence they had come, and had killed three or four hundred of them.
Thus the new Breton insurrection had opened with a victory.
When the Blues were fairly in the town, and had posted their sentinels, Cadoudal also ordered a retreat, for he meditated a fresh expedition for the night.
The victorious Chouans could be seen joyfully returning through the thickets of furze and briar which edged the road, and above which, now that they were marching without disguise, they sometimes towered more than a head. They were calling to each other and crowding around one of their number who was playing the bag-pipe, as soldiers follow the trumpet of the regiment. The bag-pipe was their trumpet.
At the bottom of the slope, just where the overturned trees had formed a barricade which the Republican cavalry had been unable to pass, where they had separated to take part in the fight, so did Cadoudal and D'Argentan meet there after it was over. They were overjoyed to meet again, for they had scarcely had time for a hurried greeting before.
D'Argentan, who had not fought for a long time before, had gone into the fray with such good-will that he had got himself a bayonet thrust in the arm. He had thrown his coat over his shoulder in consequence, and appeared with his arm in a sling, improvised from his bloody handkerchief.
As for Diane; she now came down from the little knoll, and approached the two friends with her firm, masculine step.
"What," exclaimed Cadoudal, on perceiving her, "did you remain, my fair Amazon?"
D'Argentan uttered a cry of surprise, for he recognized Mademoiselle Rotrou, the "post-mistress" of Vitré.
"Permit me," said Cadoudal, still addressing Diane, and indicating his companion with a wave of his hand, "to present to you one of my best friends."
"Monsieur d'Argentan?" said Diane, smiling. "I already have the honor of his acquaintance. Indeed we are old acquaintances of three days' standing. We travelled all the way from Paris together."
"Then it would have been his privilege to present me to you, had I not already done so myself." Then, addressing Diane more particularly, he added: "You were going to Vitré, mademoiselle?"
"Monsieur d'Argentan," said Diane, without replying to Cadoudal's question, "on the way you offered to act as my immediate intercessor with General Cadoudal, if I had any request to make of him."
"I was then under the impression, mademoiselle, that you did not know the general," replied D'Argentan."But when once one has seen you, you need no intercessor, and I answer for it that my friend here will grant you whatever you may ask."
"That, sir," said Diane, "is pure gallantry, and a trick to evade your promise to me. I summon you positively to keep your word."
"Speak, madame. I am ready to second your request with all my power," said D'Argentan.
"I want to join the general's army," said Diane, calmly.
"In what capacity?" asked D'Argentan.
"In the capacity of a volunteer,"—replied Diane coldly.
The two friends looked at each other.
"You hear, Cadoudal?" asked D'Argentan.
Cadoudal's brow grew grave, and his whole countenance assumed a stern expression. Then, after an instant's silence, he said: "Madame, the proposal is a serious one, and deserves serious reflection. I will tell you something curious. I was at first ordained for the church; and I took in my heart all my vows of ordination, which I have never broken. I do not doubt that in you I should gain a charming aide-de-camp of undoubted bravery. I believe that women are as brave as men. But in our old religious Brittany there exist certain prejudices which often force us to discourage too great devotion. Several of my colleagues have received, it is true, the wives and daughters of royalists who have been assassinated, but to them is due the protection and asylum which they demand."
"And how do you know," returned Diane, "that I am not the daughter of an assassinated noble, and perhaps also the sister of another, in which case I have a double claim to the hospitality which I invoke?"
"In that case," said D'Argentan, with a mocking smile, joining in the conversation, "how does it happen that you have a passport signed by Barras?"
"Will you be good enough to show me your own, Monsieur d'Argentan?" asked Diane.
D'Argentan took it laughingly from the pocket of thecoat which hung over his shoulder and gave it to her. She unfolded it and read:
Give free passage throughout the territory of the Republic to Citizen Sebastien Argentan, tax-gatherer at Dinan.(Signed)Barras, Rewbell, La Reveillière-Lepaux.
Give free passage throughout the territory of the Republic to Citizen Sebastien Argentan, tax-gatherer at Dinan.
(Signed)Barras, Rewbell, La Reveillière-Lepaux.
"And will you be good enough to tell me, sir," said Diane, "how, as a friend of General Cadoudal and fighting against the Republic, you are supposed to have free passage throughout the territory of the Republic, in the character of tax-collector of Dinan. Do not let us lift our masks, sir, let us remove them entirely."
"Faith, that is well answered," said Cadoudal, who was deeply impressed by Diane's coolness and persistency. "Come, speak! How did you get that passport? Explain it to mademoiselle. Perhaps she will then deign to explain how she came by hers."
"Ah!" said D'Argentan, laughing, "that is a secret which I dare not reveal before our prudish friend Cadoudal; however, if you insist, mademoiselle, at the risk of making him blush, I will say that there lives in the Rue des Colonnes at Paris, near the Théâtre Feydeau, a certain Aurélie de Sainte-Amour, to whom Barras can refuse nothing, and who, in turn, can refuse me nothing."
"And furthermore," continued Cadoudal, "the name on the passport conceals another, which is sufficient in itself to give him free passage among Vendéans, Chouans, and royalists who wear the white cockade, whether at home or abroad. Your travelling companion, mademoiselle, who has now nothing to conceal, and whom I will consequently present to you under his real name, is not Monsieur d'Argentan, but Coster de Saint-Victor; and had he given no pledge, heretofore, the wound which he has just received in fighting for our sacred cause—"
"If it needs only a wound to prove one's devotion, that is a very simple matter," said Diane, coldly.
"What do you mean?" asked Cadoudal.
"See!" said Diane.
And drawing the sharp dagger, which had given her brother his death-blow, from her belt, she struck her arm so violently in the place where Coster de Saint-Victor had received his wound that the blade entered on one side and came out on the other.
"And as for the name," said Diane, addressing the wondering young man, "although my name is not Coster de Saint-Victor, it is Diane de Fargas! My father was assassinated four years ago, my brother a week ago."
Coster de Saint-Victor started and glanced at the dagger which she had left in her arm, and, recognizing it as the one which had in his presence done to death the young Lucien, he said: "I am a witness and can testify that this young girl has spoken the truth when she says that she is as worthy as any one to be received into the royalist army, and to be received among us and as one with us in our holy cause."
Cadoudal held out his hand to her.
"From now on," said he, "if you have no father, mademoiselle, I will be your father. If you no longer have a brother, I will be your brother. I know there was once a Roman woman who, fearing her husband's weakness, and to reassure him, pierced her own right arm with the blade of a knife. Since we live in times which force us to conceal our real names, yours will be Portia, henceforth, instead of Diane de Fargas, as in the past. And as you are now one of us, and at the first stroke have won the rank of leader, you will attend the meeting which I am about to hold when the surgeon has dressed your arm."
"Thanks, general," said Diane; "but as for the surgeon, I have no more need of his services than has Monsieur Coster de Saint-Victor; for my wound is no more serious than his."
Drawing the dagger from the wound where it had remained, she slit up her sleeve, revealing her beautiful arm; then, addressing Coster de Saint-Victor, she said, laughingly: "Comrade, be good enough to lend me your cravat."
Half an hour later the Chouans were encamped in a half circle around the town of La Guerche. They bivouacked in groups of ten, fifteen, and twenty, with a fire for each group, and were cooking their supper as peacefully as if a gunshot had never been heard from Redon to Cancale.
The cavalry bivouacked by themselves, on the borders of a little brook which formed one of the sources of the Seiche. Their horses were saddled but not bridled, so that horses as well as men could enjoy their food.
In the midst of the encampment, seated under an immense oak, Cadoudal, Coster de Saint-Victor, Mademoiselle de Fargas, and five or six of the Chouans were gathered. These latter deserve that their pseudonyms of Branche-d'Or, Brise-Bleu, Chante-en-Hiver, Bénédicité, Monte-à-l'Assaut, Cœur-de-Roi, and Tiffauges should be handed down to posterity together with that of their leader.
Mademoiselle de Fargas and Coster de Saint-Victor ate with good appetites, using the hand which was not disabled. Mademoiselle de Fargas had wished to empty her six thousand francs into the general funds, but Cadoudal had refused receiving her money only as a deposit.
The six or seven Chouan leaders whom we have named, ate as if they were not sure of being able to eat on the morrow. But the Whites did not have as many privations to endure as the Republicans, although the latter were able to exact contributions. The Whites, with whom the people of the neighborhood were in entire sympathy, and who paid for whatever they ate, lived in comparative abundance.
As for Cadoudal, preoccupied with some thought whichseemed to be struggling in his mind, he went and came, having taken only a glass of water, his customary beverage. He had obtained from Mademoiselle de Fargas all the information which she could give him about François Goulin and his guillotine. He stopped suddenly, and turning to the group of Breton leaders, he said: "I want a willing man to go to La Guerche and get such information as I require."
All rose spontaneously.
"General," said Chante-en-Hiver, "without wronging my comrades, I think I am better fitted than any of them for this mission. My brother lives at La Guerche. I will wait until it is dark, and then I will go to him. If I am stopped I can appeal to him; he will answer for me, and that will be the end of it. He knows the town like his own pocket; we will do whatever you want done, and I will be back with the information within the hour."
"Very well," said Cadoudal, "this is what I have decided upon. You all know that the Blues are dragging a guillotine around with them, to strike terror to our hearts and to intimidate us; and that the infamous Goulin has charge of it. François Goulin, who was, you will remember, the hero of the drownings at Nantes. He and Perdraux were Carrier's tools. They have both boasted of having drowned more than eight hundred priests. Well, Providence has sent this man again, who went to Paris, not only to ask immunity, but reward for his infamous crimes, that he might expiate his ill-doing on the spot where he committed it. He has brought the infamous guillotine among us. Let him perish by the foul instrument that he watches over; he is not worthy of a soldier's bullet. Now we must take both him and his instrument, and transport them to some spot where we are absolute masters, that the execution may not be interfered with. Chante-en-Hiver will go to La Guerche; he will come back and tell us all about the house where Goulin lodges, the place where the guillotine stands, and the number of men who guard it. When we ascertain these facts, I have a plan which I shallexplain to you; and if you agree to it we will carry it out this very night."
The chiefs applauded loudly.
"The deuce!" observed Coster de Saint-Victor, "I have never seen a man guillotined, and I have sworn that I would have nothing to do with the abominable machine until my turn came to be beheaded; but when François Groulin is brought to book, I promise to be in the front rank of spectators."
"You hear, Chante-en-Hiver?" asked Cadoudal.
Chante-en-Hiver did not wait for him to speak twice. He laid aside all his weapons with the exception of his knife, with which he never parted. Then, asking Coster de Saint-Victor to look at his watch, and learning that it was half-past eight, he promised to return by ten. Five minutes later he disappeared.
"Now," said Cadoudal, addressing the remaining chiefs, "how many horses were taken on the battlefield, with their saddles, etc.?"
"Twenty-one," said Cœur-de-Roi; "I counted them myself."
"Can we find twenty chasseur or hussar uniforms that are complete?"
"General, there are nearly one hundred and fifty dead on the field of battle," replied Branche d'Or; "we have only to take our pick."
"We must have twenty hussar uniforms, and one of them must belong to a quartermaster-general, or a sub-lieutenant."
Branche-d'Or rose, whistled, collected a dozen men, and started off with them.
"I have an idea," said Coster de Saint-Victor. "Is there a printing-shop at Vitré?"
"Yes," replied Cadoudal; "I had my manifesto printed there the day before yesterday. The manager is a worthy man named Borel, who is entirely with us."
"I have a good mind," said Coster, "since I have nothing else to do, to get into Mademoiselle de Fargas's carriage, go to Vitré, and order some placards inviting the people of La Guerche, including the six thousand Blues, to witness the execution, by his own executioner, and his own guillotine, of François Goulin, government commissioner. It would be a good joke, and it would amuse our people in the Paris salons."
"Do it, Coster," said Cadoudal. "One cannot employ too much publicity and solemnity when God executes justice."
"Forward, D'Argentan, my friend," said Coster; "only some one will have to lend me a jacket."
Cadoudal made a sign, and each of the leaders pulled off his own to offer it to Coster.
"If the execution takes place," he asked, "where will it be?"
"Faith!" said Cadoudal, "three hundred paces from here, at the top of the hill just in front of me."
"That is all I want to know," said Coster de Saint-Victor. And, calling to the postilion, he added: "My friend, as you may take it into your head to object to what I am going to tell you to do, I want to tell you beforehand that all objections will be useless. Your horses are rested and they have eaten; you are rested and you have eaten. You will put the horses to the carriage; and as you cannot return to La Guerche, because the road is obstructed, you will take me to Vitré, to Monsieur Borel, the printer. If you agree to it, you shall have two crowns of six livres each—not assignats, but crowns. If you refuse, one of these lads here will take your place, and will naturally receive the two crowns instead of you."
The postilion took no time for reflection.
"I will go," said he.
"Very well," said Coster; "and since you have shown such willingness, here is one of the crowns in advance."
Five minutes later the carriage was harnessed and Coster was on his way to Vitré.
"Now," said Mademoiselle de Fargas, "as I have nopart to play in all these preparations, I will ask your permission to take a little rest. I have not slept for five days and nights."
Cadoudal spread his cloak on the ground and on it five or six goatskins, a portmanteau served for a pillow, and Mademoiselle de Fargas began her first night's bivouac, and with it her apprenticeship to civil war.
As the clock of La Guerche was chiming ten, Cadoudal heard a voice at his ear which said: "Here I am."
It was Chante-en-Hiver, who had returned, as he had promised. He had gathered all the necessary information, and he told Cadoudal all that we already know. Goulin occupied the last house in the town of La Guerche. Twelve men, who slept in a room on the ground-floor, constituted his private guard. Four men took turns in acting as sentinels at the foot of the guillotine, relieving each other every two hours; the three off guard slept in the anteroom on the ground-floor of François Goulin's house. The horses which were used to pull the machine were stabled behind the same house.
At half-past ten, Branche-d'Or arrived in his turn; he had taken the uniforms from twenty dead hussars and brought them with him.
"Choose twenty men who can wear these clothes without looking as if they were masquerading in them. You will take command of them. I suppose you did as I told you, and found one uniform belonging to a quartermaster-general or a sub-lieutenant?"
"Yes, general."
"You will put it on, and take the command of these twenty men. You will take the road to Château-Giron, so that you will reach La Guerche at the other end by the road opposite to it. When the sentinel challenges you, you will advance and say that you are come from General Hedouville at Rennes. You will ask for Colonel Hulot's house, which they will show you. You will be careful not to go there. Chante-en-Hiver, who will be your second in command, will show you the way through the town if you do not know it."
"I do know it, general," replied Branche-d'Or; "but no matter, a good fellow like Chante-en-Hiver is never in the way."
"You will go straight to Goulin's house. Thanks to your uniform, you will have no difficulty. While two men approach the sentinel and talk to him, the other eighteen will enter the house and seize the Blues who are there. You will make them swear not to offer any opposition at the sword's point. As soon as they have sworn, you need trouble no further about them; they will keep their oath. Masters below, you will then go up to François Goulin's room. As I have no idea that he will defend himself, I will not tell you what to do in case of resistance. As for the sentinel, you understand how important it is that he should not cry 'To arms!' He will surrender or you will kill him. In the meantime Chante-en-Hiver will take the horses from the stable and harness them to the machine; and as it is on the road, all you will have to do is to drive straight ahead in order to rejoin us. When once the Blues have given you their word, you can trust them with the secret of your mission. I am firmly convinced that there is not one among them who would court death for the sake of François Goulin, and that, on the contrary, you will find more than one who will give you good advice. Thus, for example, Chante-en-Hiver neglected to find out where the executioner lived, probably because I neglected to tell him to do so. I suppose none of you would care to fill his office, therefore he is indispensable to us. I leave the rest to your intelligence. We will make the attempt about three o'clock in the morning. At two o'clock we shall be where we were yesterday. A rocket will notify us that you have been successful."
Branche-d'Or and Chante-en-Hiver exchanged a few words in a low tone. One was objecting to something that the other was saying; finally they seemed to havecome to some conclusion in the matter, and, turning to the general, they said: "That is enough, general. Everything shall be done as you say."
About two o'clock the noise of a carriage was heard. It was Coster de Saint-Victor returning with the handbills. As he had been certain of the successful issue of the affair, he had ordered the printer to post a hundred in the town of Vitré.
The handbill read as follows:
You are invited to assist at the execution of François Goulin, commissioner-extraordinary of the Directory. He will be executed to-morrow at nine o'clock in the morning, on the road from Vitré to La Guerche, at a place called Moutiers, upon his own guillotine.General Cadoudal, by whose order this execution takes place, offers the truce of God to all who shall be present at this act of justice.Georges Cadoudal.From his camp at La Guerche.
You are invited to assist at the execution of François Goulin, commissioner-extraordinary of the Directory. He will be executed to-morrow at nine o'clock in the morning, on the road from Vitré to La Guerche, at a place called Moutiers, upon his own guillotine.
General Cadoudal, by whose order this execution takes place, offers the truce of God to all who shall be present at this act of justice.
Georges Cadoudal.
From his camp at La Guerche.
In passing through Etrelles, Saint-Germain du Pinel and Moutiers, Coster had left copies with the inhabitants, whom he had awakened for the purpose, and whom he charged to inform their neighbors of the good fortune that was in store for them on the following day. Nor had any of these people complained of being awakened. A commissioner of the Republic is not executed every day.
Horses were harnessed to the trees that had been felled in that direction, as the Republicans had done at the other end of the ravine, in order to make the road passable.
At two o'clock, as had been agreed, Cadoudal gave the signal to his men, who took up their places behind the thickets where they had fought during the day.
Half an hour earlier Branche-d'Or, Chante-en-Hiver andhis twenty men had started off on the road to Château-Giron, dressed as hussars. An hour passed in absolute silence. The Chouans could hear the sentinels calling from one to another from where they were posted.
About a quarter to three the disguised Chouans appeared at the end of the main street in La Guerche, and, after a moment's parley with the sentinel, were directed to the town-hall where Colonel Hulot was lodged. But Branche-d'Or and Chante-en-Hiver were not so simple as to follow the main thoroughfares of the town; they took to the lanes, where they might have been thought a patrol watching over the safety of the town.
They went thus to the house where François Goulin lodged. There everything passed off as Cadoudal had foreseen. The sentinel at the guillotine, seeing the little troop approach from the centre of the town, was not at all alarmed, and they had a pistol at his throat before he suspected that they had aught to say to him. The Republicans, taken by surprise in the house where they were asleep, made no resistance. François Goulin was caught in his bed, and had been rolled up and tied in his sheet before he had time to utter a single cry of alarm.
As for the executioner, he and his assistant were lodged in a little pavilion in the garden, and as Cadoudal had foretold, the Republicans themselves, when apprised of the object of the expedition, pointed out the hole where the two foul creatures were sleeping. The Blues promised furthermore to take and distribute the bills, and to ask Colonel Hulot's permission to be present at the execution.
A rocket went up from the hill at three o'clock in the morning, announcing to Cadoudal and his men that the expedition had been successfully terminated. And at the same time they caught the echo of the rumbling of a heavy cart which was conveying one of the finest specimens of Monsieur Guillotin's invention.
Seeing that his men were not pursued, Cadoudal called the Chouans, and they removed the dead bodies from themiddle of the road, that the wagon might not be impeded in its progress. It was not until they were half-way down the hill that they heard the first blast of the trumpets and the first beats of the drums.
The fact is that no one had been in any haste to inform Colonel Hulot. The one who was charged with the duty did not forget to take with him a number of the handbills; and instead of first reporting the audacious deed which Cadoudal's men had just perpetrated, he began by thrusting a handful of the bills under his eyes. Then, as they told the colonel nothing, he was forced to elicit the necessary information by a series of questions which brought forth the truth bit by bit. He finally heard it all, however, and flew into a terrible passion, ordering a hot pursuit of the Whites and the rescue of the Government commissioner at any cost.
Then the trumpets had sounded and the drums beat. But the officers wheedled their old colonel until they disarmed his anger, and obtained a tacit permission to go, at their own risk and peril, to see this execution which the colonel himself was dying to witness. But he knew that this was impossible, and that he would only jeopardize his own head by such an act; he therefore contented himself with telling his secretary, who had not dared to ask leave, to go with the other officers and bring him an exact report. The young man jumped for joy when he learned that he was to go and see François Goulin's head cut off.
The man must indeed have inspired profound disgust when Whites and Blues, citizens and soldiers, approved thus unanimously of an act which was open to such criticism from the standpoint of the right.
As for François Goulin, he had no very clear idea of what was impending over him until he saw the Chouans join and fraternize with his escort. Taken by men wearing the Republican uniform, rolled up and tied in his sheet before they had answered his questions, thrown into a carriage with the executioner, his dear friend, and following in thewake of his beloved machine, it will be readily understood how impossible it was that the truth should have dawned upon him.
But when he saw the pretended hussars exchanging jokes with the Chouans, who walked along the embankment at their side; when, after persistently asking what they intended to do with him, and why they had entered his domicile and laid violent hands upon his person, he was presented, by way of reply, with a placard announcing his own execution; then, indeed, did he realize the full gravity of his predicament, unless he were rescued by the Republicans, or his captors should be moved to pity, two chances so extremely problematical that he could place no dependence upon them.
His first idea was to address the executioner and impress upon him that he was to obey no one save himself, since he had been sent from Paris with the injunction to obey him in all things. But the man was himself so cast down, and looked around with such a haggard eye, being firmly convinced that he was to die in the same place and at the same hour with the man whose custom it was to put others to death, that the unhappy François Goulin soon saw that he had nothing to expect from that quarter.
Then he thought of crying out, appealing, entreating for help; but all the faces expressed such utter indifference that he shook his head and said to himself: "No, no, it is useless."
Thus they reached the foot of the hill. There the Chouans made a halt. They wished to take off their borrowed costumes and put on their own uniform, which consisted of the vest, breeches and gaiters of the Breton peasant. A number of curious people had already gathered there. The bills had accomplished wonders; from six and even eight miles in the country round, people were hastening to the spot. Everybody knew that this was the same François Goulin who had no other name throughout the Vendée and at Nantes than the Drowner.
The guillotine shared with him in their curiosity. The instrument was wholly unknown in this corner of France, which bordered upon Finistère (finis terrœ, the end of the earth). Men and women questioned each other as to how it worked, where the condemned man was placed, and how the knife went up and down. People who did not know that Goulin was the hero of the occasion addressed him, asking for information. One of them said to him: "Do you believe a person dies as soon as his head is cut off? When I cut off the head of a goose or a duck it lives for more than a quarter of an hour afterward."
And Goulin, who was no more sure than he that death was instantaneous, writhed in his bonds and said to the executioner: "Did you not tell me one day that the heads of the people who had been guillotined gnawed at the bottom of your basket?"
But the executioner, stupefied with terror, either did not reply at all, or only mumbled such incoherent words as revealed the mortal fear which was upon him whose lips were thus clogged.
After a halt of a quarter of an hour, which gave the Chouans time to resume their own uniforms, they started again; but they caught sight of the entire population hastening from the left to witness the execution.
It was a curious thing to see these men, who, on the previous day, had been threatened with the fatal instrument, and who had looked with dread upon the man who had it in charge—it was a curious thing to see this instrument, like Diomedes' horses, which fed upon human flesh, cast itself upon its master and devour him in turn.
A black mass, preceded by a stick with a white handkerchief floating at the end, hurried through the crowd. They were the Republicans who had taken advantage of the truce of God which Cadoudal had offered them, and were coming, preceded by the white emblem of truce, to join the silence of scorn to the angry outbursts of the populace, who, having nothing at stake, respected nothing.
Cadoudal ordered a halt, and, after courteously saluting the Blues, with whom he and his men had exchanged death blows on the previous night, he said: "Come, gentlemen. The spectacle is a grand one and well worth the presence of men of all parties. Cut-throats, drowners, and assassins have no flag; or if they have one it is the standard of death—the black flag. Come, we will none of us march beneath that flag."
And he went on again, mingling with the Republicans, and trusting them as they trusted him.
An onlooker, watching the strange procession as it approached from the far side of Moutiers and slowly ascended the hill, would have found it difficult to make out the meaning of the strange jumble of men on foot and on horseback: Whites in the costume made sacred by Charette, Cathelineau and Cadoudal, Blues in the Republican uniform, accompanied by women, children and peasants, and rolling along in the midst of this human tide, restless as the waves of the ocean, an unknown machine—unless the spectator had seen one of Coster de Saint-Victor's placards.
But these placards were for the time being considered merely as one of those gasconades which the parties permitted themselves at this period; and many persons had come from afar, not to see the promised execution—that would have been too much to expect—but to learn the explanation of the promise which had been made them.
Moutiers was the appointed meeting place, and all the peasants in the neighborhood had been waiting in the public square of that town since eight o'clock in the morning.
Suddenly they were told that the procession, which wasgrowing with every step, was approaching the town. Every one at once hastened to the spot indicated; and there they could see the Vendéan chiefs, who formed the advance-guard, half-way up the hill. In their hands they were carrying green branches, as in the old days of expiation.
The crowd which had gathered at Moutiers streamed along the road; and, like two rivers meeting, the two human floods surged against each other and mingled their waters.
There was a moment of confusion and tumult. Every one fought to get near the cart which carried the scaffold and the carriage which contained Goulin, the executioner and his assistant. But as they were all animated by the same desire, and as enthusiasm was perhaps greater than curiosity, those who had caught a glimpse thought it only right to fall back and give the others a chance to have an equal opportunity.
As they advanced, Goulin grew paler and paler; for he realized that they were making straight for a goal which they would surely reach. Moreover, he had seen, on the bill which had been thrust into his hands, that Moutiers was to be the scene of his execution; and he knew only too well that the town they were approaching at every step was Moutiers. He rolled his eyes around the crowd, unable to fathom this mingling of Chouans and Republicans, who on the previous evening were waging such furious warfare and yet in the morning united in such friendly fashion to form his escort. From time to time he closed his eyes, doubtless in the vain hope of persuading himself that it was all a dream. But then the tempestuous roaring of the crowd and the swaying of the carriage must have carried with it the suggestion of a tempest at sea. Then he raised his arms, which he had succeeded in freeing from their shroud-like wrappings, beat the air like a crazy man, stood up, tried to cry out, and perhaps did cry out; but his voice was lost in the tumult, and he fell back again on the seat between his two gloomy companions. At last they reachedthe plateau of Moutiers, and then there came a cry of "Halt!"
They had reached their destination.
More than ten thousand persons were assembled on this plateau. The nearest houses in the village were crowded with spectators and the trees along the roadside were loaded with human freight. A few men on horseback, and a woman with her arm in a sling, towered above the crowd.
The men were Cadoudal, Coster de Saint-Victor, and the Chouan leaders. The woman was Mademoiselle de Fargas, who, to familiarize herself with her future emotions upon the field of battle, had come in quest of the most intense of all emotions—that which is experienced by those who witness a death upon the scaffold.
When the procession had halted, and each person had placed himself as he or she wished to be placed during the execution, Cadoudal raised his hand in token that he wished to speak.
Every voice was hushed, and even the breath seemed to expire upon pale lips. A mournful silence ensued, and Goulin's eyes were fastened upon Cadoudal, of whose name and importance he was ignorant. He had none the less distinguished him from the others as perhaps the man whom he had come from afar to seek—the man who at their first meeting was to change rôles with him, to make of himself the judge and executioner, and of the judge and executioner proper the victim—if an assassin can be described as a victim, no matter what manner of death was reserved for him. Cadoudal, as we have said, had signified that he wished to speak.
"Citizens," said he, addressing the Republicans, "as you see, I give you the title which you give yourselves—my brothers," he continued, addressing the Chouans—"and I give you the name with which God receives you in his bosom—your meeting here at Moutiers to-day, and its object, prove that each of you is convinced of the guilt of this man, who is deserving of the death which he is aboutto suffer. And yet, Republicans, whom I hope some day to call brothers, you do not know this man as we do.
"One day, in 1793, my father and I were carrying some flour to Nantes. There was a famine in the town. It was scarcely light. Carrier, the infamous Carrier, had not yet arrived at Nantes. Therefore we must render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's, and unto Goulin the things which are Goulin's. It was Goulin who invented the drownings.
"My father and I were going along the Quai de la Loire. We saw a boat on which they were loading priests. A man was driving them into it two by two, and counting them as they went aboard. He counted ninety-seven of these priests, who were bound in couples. As they entered the boat they disappeared, for they were thrown into the hold. The boat left the shore and floated out into the middle of the Loire. This man stood in front with an oar.
"My father stopped his horse and said to me: 'Wait and watch, something infamous is about to happen here.'
"And in fact the boat had a plug. When the boat reached the middle of the stream, the unfortunates in the hold were thrown into the water. As they came up to the surface, this man and his wretched companions struck at these heads, which already wore the halo of martyrdom, and bruised them with their oars. It was that man there who urged them on to the terrible work. Two of the condemned men, however, were too far away to be struck; they made their way toward the bank, for they had found a sandbar which afforded them a foothold.
"'Quick,' said my father, 'let us save those two.'
"We sprang from our horses and slipped down the bank of the Loire with our knives in our hands. They, thinking that we also were murderers, tried to escape from us. But we cried out to them: 'Come to us, men of God! these knives are to cut your bonds, not to strike you.'
"They came to us, and in an instant their hands were free, and we were on horseback, with them behind us, galloping away. They were the worthy Abbés Briançon and Lacombe.
"They both took refuge with us in the forests of the Morbihan. One of them died of cold, hunger and fatigue, as so many of us have died. That was the Abbé Briançon.
"The other," said Cadoudal, pointing to a priest who tried to conceal himself among the crowd, "recovered, and to-day serves God with his prayers, as we serve him with our arms. That other is the Abbé Lacombe. There he is!
"From that time," he continued, pointing to Goulin, "this man, and always the same, presided at the drownings. In all the slaughter which took place at Nantes, he was Carrier's right arm. When Carrier was tried and condemned, François Goulin was tried at the same time; but he posed before the tribunal as an instrument who had been unable to refuse to obey the orders that were given him. I possess a letter written entirely by his hand."
Here Cadoudal drew a paper from his pocket.
"I wanted to send it to the tribunal to enlighten its conscience. This letter, written to his worthy colleague Perdraux, was his condemnation, since in it he described his mode of procedure. Listen, you men of hard-fought battles, and tell me if ever a war-bulletin made you shudder like this."
And amid solemn silence, Cadoudal read aloud the following letter:
Citizen—In the exaltation of your patriotism, you ask me how I make my Republican marriages.When I get ready for the baths, I strip the men and women, and go through their clothing to see if they have any money or jewelry. I put the clothing in a great hamper, then I tie the man and woman together, face to face, by the wrists. I bring them to the banks of the Loire; they go aboard my boat, two by two, and two men push them from behind and throw them into the water, head first; then when they try to save themselves we have great clubs with which we beat them back.That is what we call the civil marriage.François Goulin.
Citizen—In the exaltation of your patriotism, you ask me how I make my Republican marriages.
When I get ready for the baths, I strip the men and women, and go through their clothing to see if they have any money or jewelry. I put the clothing in a great hamper, then I tie the man and woman together, face to face, by the wrists. I bring them to the banks of the Loire; they go aboard my boat, two by two, and two men push them from behind and throw them into the water, head first; then when they try to save themselves we have great clubs with which we beat them back.
That is what we call the civil marriage.
François Goulin.
"Do you know," continued Cadoudal, "what prevented me from sending that letter? It was the intercession of the good Abbé Lacombe. He said to me: 'If God has given this man a chance to escape, it is that he may have an opportunity to repent.'
"Now, has he repented? You see him. After having drowned more than fifteen hundred persons, he seizes the moment when the terror has been revived to ask the favor of returning to this same region where he was executioner, in order to make fresh executions. If he had repented, I also would have pardoned him; but since, like the dog in the Bible, he returns to his own vomit, since God has permitted him to fall into my hands after escaping those of the revolutionary tribunal, it is because God wishes him to die."
A moment of silence followed Cadoudal's words. Then the condemned man rose in his carriage, and cried in a stifled voice: "Mercy! mercy!"
"Well," said Cadoudal, rising in his stirrups, "so be it. Since you are standing there, look around you. There are ten thousand men who have come to see you die. If, among them, a single one asks for mercy, you shall have it."
"Mercy!" cried Lacombe, stretching out his arms.
Cadoudal rose again in his stirrups.
"You alone, father, of us all, have no right to ask for mercy for this man. You extended mercy to him on the day when you prevented me from sending his letter to the revolutionary tribunal. You may help him to die, but that is all that I can grant you."
Then in a voice which made itself heard by all the spectators, he asked for the second time: "Is there one among you who asks for mercy for this man?"
Not a voice replied.
"You have five minutes in which to make your peace with God," said Cadoudal to François Goulin; "and, unless it be a miracle from heaven, nothing can save you. Father," said he, addressing Lacombe, "you may give this man yourarm, and accompany him to the scaffold." Then, to the executioner, he said, "Do your duty!"
The executioner, who now saw that his only part in the performance would be the execution of his ordinary functions, rose and put his hand on Groulin's shoulder in token that he belonged to him.
The Abbé Lacombe approached the condemned man, but the latter pushed him back.
Then ensued a frightful struggle between the man who would neither pray nor die and his two executioners. In spite of his cries, his bites and his blasphemies, the executioner picked him up in his arms as if he had been a child; and, while the assistant prepared the knife, he carried him from his carriage to the platform of the guillotine.
The Abbé Lacombe went up first, with a ray of hope, and waited for the culprit; but his efforts were vain, for Goulin would not even put his lips to the crucifix.
Then on this awful stage there occurred a scene which is beyond description. The executioner and his assistant succeeded in stretching the condemned man upon the fatal plank. It rocked. Then the onlookers saw a flash as of lightning. It was the knife which fell. Then a dull thud. It was the head which had fallen.
A deep silence followed, and in its midst Cadoudal's voice could be heard, saying: "God's justice is done!"
Let us leave Cadoudal to continue his desperate struggles against the Republicans, victor and vanquished by turns, and, with Pichegru—the last remaining hope of the Bourbons—let us cast an eye upon Paris, and pause before the pile erected by Marie de Medicis, where the citizen-directors still abide in the respective apartments we have mentioned.
Barras had received Bonaparte's message, with which Augereau was charged.
On the eve of the latter's departure, the young commander-in-chief, choosing the anniversary of the 14th of July, which corresponded to the 26th Messidor, had assembled the army for a celebration, and had had addresses drawn up in which the soldiers of the Army of Italy protested their attachment to the Republic and their willingness to die for it if necessary.
On the grand square at Milan a pyramid had been erected and surrounded by trophies taken from the enemy, that is to say, the flags and cannon. This pyramid bore the names of all the officers and soldiers who had died during the campaign in Italy.
Every Frenchman in Milan was urged to be present at this celebration, and more than twenty thousand men presented arms to the glorious trophies and the pyramid covered with the immortal names of the dead.
While these twenty thousand men formed in square and presented arms to their brothers, who lay stretched upon the battlefields of Arcola, Castiglione, and Rivoli, Bonaparte, with uncovered head, said, as he pointed to the pyramid:
"Soldiers! to-day is the anniversary of the 14th of July. You see before you, on the pyramid, the names of those soldiers who have died on the field of honor for the cause of liberty. They have set you an example. You belong absolutely to the Republic. The happiness of thirty millions of Frenchmen is in your hands, and to your hands is also intrusted the glory of that name which has received new lustre from your victories."Soldiers! I know that you are deeply grieved by the evils which threaten your country; but that country cannot be in real danger. The same men who are responsible for its triumph over allied Europe are still there. Mountains separate us from France. You would cross them with the speed of an eagle if it were necessary, in order to protect the safety of the Constitution, defend liberty and Republicanism."Soldiers! the government watches over the trust whichhas been confided to it. The royalists, as soon as they appear, will forfeit their lives. Have no fear; but swear by the spirits of the heroes who have died beside us for liberty, swear by our flags implacable war against the enemies of the Republic and the Constitution of the Year III."
"Soldiers! to-day is the anniversary of the 14th of July. You see before you, on the pyramid, the names of those soldiers who have died on the field of honor for the cause of liberty. They have set you an example. You belong absolutely to the Republic. The happiness of thirty millions of Frenchmen is in your hands, and to your hands is also intrusted the glory of that name which has received new lustre from your victories.
"Soldiers! I know that you are deeply grieved by the evils which threaten your country; but that country cannot be in real danger. The same men who are responsible for its triumph over allied Europe are still there. Mountains separate us from France. You would cross them with the speed of an eagle if it were necessary, in order to protect the safety of the Constitution, defend liberty and Republicanism.
"Soldiers! the government watches over the trust whichhas been confided to it. The royalists, as soon as they appear, will forfeit their lives. Have no fear; but swear by the spirits of the heroes who have died beside us for liberty, swear by our flags implacable war against the enemies of the Republic and the Constitution of the Year III."
Then there followed a banquet, and toasts were offered. Bonaparte gave the first.
"To the brave Stengel, La Harpe, and Dubois, who died on the field of honor! May their shades watch over us and preserve us from the snares of our enemies!"
Masséna proposed a toast to the re-emigration of the emigrés.
Augereau, who was to start the next day with full authority from Bonaparte, raised his glass and said:
"To the union of all French Republicans! To the destruction of the Clichy Club! Let the conspirators tremble! From the Adige and the Rhine to the Seine is but a step. Let them tremble! Their iniquities are known, and the price is at the end of our bayonets!"
As he uttered the last words, trumpets and drums sounded the charge. Each soldier sprang to his gun, as if he were obliged to start on the instant; and the men could scarcely be induced to resume their places at the tables.
The members of the Directory received Bonaparte's message with widely varying emotions.
Augereau exactly suited Barras, who, always ready to mount his horse and summon the Jacobins and the people of the faubourgs to his assistance, considered him the man for the situation. Rewbell and La Reveillière, whose characters were cool and evenly balanced, wanted a general who was as cool and as evenly balanced as themselves. As for Carnot and Barthélemy, it is needless to say that Augereau could in no wise accord with their plans.
Indeed, Augereau, such as we know him, was a dangerous auxiliary. A brave man, an excellent soldier, with an intrepid heart, but a boasting Gascon tongue, Augereaurevealed too clearly the object of his mission. But Rewbell and Le Reveillière succeeded in taking him aside and convincing him that it was necessary to save the Republic by an energetic and decisive blow, but without bloodshed. In order to keep him quiet, they gave him command of the seventeenth military division, which included Paris.
This was the 16th Fructidor.
The relations between the two parties were so strained that acoup d'étatwas expected at every moment, either on the part of the directors or the councils.
Pichegru was the natural chief of the royalist movement; if he were to take the initiative, the royalists would gather round him.
This book which we are writing is far from being a romance—perhaps, indeed, it is not enough of a romance to suit some of our readers; but we have already said that it was written along the shores of history from promontory to promontory. And just as we were the first to throw broad daylight upon the events of the 13th Vendémiaire and the part which Bonaparte played in it, so shall we, at this period which we have reached, show the over-calumniated Pichegru in his true light.
Pichegru, after his refusal to listen to the Prince de Condé—a refusal the causes of which we have already narrated—entered into direct negotiations with the Comte de Provence, who, since the death of the Dauphin, had assumed the title of King Louis XVIII.
Now, when Louis XVIII. sent Cadoudal his commission asking's lieutenant, and the red ribbon, he sent Pichegru at the same time (to show his appreciation of his disinterestedness, in that he had refused to accept honors and money, and would not attempt to bring about the restoration save for the glory of being a second Monk without the Duchy of Albemarle) the following letter:
I have long desired to express to you, sir, the feelings which you early awakened in me and the esteem which Ihave for your person. I yield now to the imperious demands of my heart when I say to you that for the last eighteen months it has seemed to me that the honor of restoring the French monarchy was reserved for you.I will not speak to you of the admiration which I feel for your talents and for the noble deeds which you have performed. History has already placed you in the ranks of the great generals, and posterity will confirm the verdict of all Europe in regard to your victories and your virtues.The most distinguished leaders have, for the most part, owed their victories to long experience in their professions; but from the first you were what you have never ceased to be throughout all your campaigns. You have united the bravery of Marshal Saxe to the disinterestedness of Monsieur de Turenne and the modesty of Monsieur de Catinat. And I may say that your name is indissolubly associated in my mind with those names which have made our annals great and glorious.I confirm, sir, the full powers which M. de Condé bestowed upon you. I put no limit upon them, and leave you entirely free to do anything you may think necessary for my service which is compatible with the dignity of my crown and in accord with the interests of the kingdom.You know, sir, what are my sentiments toward you. They will never change.Louis.
I have long desired to express to you, sir, the feelings which you early awakened in me and the esteem which Ihave for your person. I yield now to the imperious demands of my heart when I say to you that for the last eighteen months it has seemed to me that the honor of restoring the French monarchy was reserved for you.
I will not speak to you of the admiration which I feel for your talents and for the noble deeds which you have performed. History has already placed you in the ranks of the great generals, and posterity will confirm the verdict of all Europe in regard to your victories and your virtues.
The most distinguished leaders have, for the most part, owed their victories to long experience in their professions; but from the first you were what you have never ceased to be throughout all your campaigns. You have united the bravery of Marshal Saxe to the disinterestedness of Monsieur de Turenne and the modesty of Monsieur de Catinat. And I may say that your name is indissolubly associated in my mind with those names which have made our annals great and glorious.
I confirm, sir, the full powers which M. de Condé bestowed upon you. I put no limit upon them, and leave you entirely free to do anything you may think necessary for my service which is compatible with the dignity of my crown and in accord with the interests of the kingdom.
You know, sir, what are my sentiments toward you. They will never change.
Louis.
A second letter followed the first. The two together furnish an exact measure of Louis XVIII.'s feelings toward Pichegru, and should influence not only his contemporaries but posterity as well.
You are aware, sir, of the unfortunate events which have taken place in Italy. The necessity of sending thirty thousand men there has forced an indefinite postponement of the project of crossing the Rhine. Your attachment to me will enable you readily to understand my chagrin at this unfortunate adverse stroke of Fate, especially just as I saw the gates of my kingdom opening before me. On the other hand, these disasters increase, if that were possible, the respect and confidence with which you have inspired me. I am sure that you will re-establish the French monarchy; and whether the war continues, or whether we have peace this summer, I count upon you for the success of the greatwork. I place in your hands, sir, absolute power to act for me and in my name. Make such use of it as you think necessary for my service.If the valuable sources of information which you have at your command in Paris and the provinces; if your talents, and, above all, your character, could permit me to fear an event which might oblige you to leave the kingdom, you would find your place between Monsieur de Condé and myself. In speaking thus to you, I have a heartfelt desire to prove to you my esteem and attachment.Louis.
You are aware, sir, of the unfortunate events which have taken place in Italy. The necessity of sending thirty thousand men there has forced an indefinite postponement of the project of crossing the Rhine. Your attachment to me will enable you readily to understand my chagrin at this unfortunate adverse stroke of Fate, especially just as I saw the gates of my kingdom opening before me. On the other hand, these disasters increase, if that were possible, the respect and confidence with which you have inspired me. I am sure that you will re-establish the French monarchy; and whether the war continues, or whether we have peace this summer, I count upon you for the success of the greatwork. I place in your hands, sir, absolute power to act for me and in my name. Make such use of it as you think necessary for my service.
If the valuable sources of information which you have at your command in Paris and the provinces; if your talents, and, above all, your character, could permit me to fear an event which might oblige you to leave the kingdom, you would find your place between Monsieur de Condé and myself. In speaking thus to you, I have a heartfelt desire to prove to you my esteem and attachment.
Louis.
Therefore, on the one hand, Augereau was urging matters to a climax with letters from Bonaparte; and, on the other, Pichegru was being urged to action with letters from Louis XVIII.
The news that Augereau had been given command of the seventeenth military division—that is to say, that he had been placed at the head of the forces in Paris—impressed the royalists with the fact that they had no time to lose. Therefore, Pichegru, Barbé-Marbois, Dumas, Murinais, Delarue, Rovère, Aubry, Laffon-Ladébat—the whole royalist party, in short, assembled at Adjutant-General Ramel's house, the latter being commander of the guard of the Corps Legislatif.
This Ramel was a brave soldier, and had been adjutant-general of the Army of the Rhine under the orders of General Desaix, when, in January, 1797, he had received orders from the Directory to return to Paris and take command of the guard of the Corps Legislatif. This corps was composed of a battalion of six hundred men, most of whom had been selected from the grenadiers of the Convention, whom we saw marching so bravely to the charge, under the command of Bonaparte, on the 13th Vendémiaire.
At this meeting Pichegru clearly explained the situation. Ramel sided entirely with the two councils, and was ready to obey any orders which the two presidents might give him. Pichegru proposed that they should take command that very evening of two hundred men and arrest Barras, Rewbell, and La Reveillière, and make chargesagainst them the next day. Unfortunately, they had agreed to abide by the decision of the majority. The temporizers opposed Pichegru's motion.
"The Constitution will be all-sufficient to defend us," said Lacuée.
"The Constitution can do nothing against cannon; and they will reply to your decrees with cannon," replied Villot.
"The soldiers will not be with them," persisted Lacuée.
"The soldiers will follow those who command them," said Pichegru. "You will not decide, and you will be lost. As for me," he continued, sadly, "I sacrificed my life long ago. I am tired of all these discussions which come to naught. When you need me you can come for me."
And with these words he went away. At the very moment when Pichegru left Ramel's house, sad and depressed, a post-chaise drew up before the Luxembourg, and citizen-general Moreau was announced to Barras.