Paris had just heard of the disaster of Sedan. The Republic was proclaimed.
All France was panting from a madness that lasted until the time of the
commonwealth. Everybody was playing at soldier from one end of the country to
the other.
Capmakers became colonels, assuming the duties of generals; revolvers and
daggers were displayed on large rotund bodies enveloped in red sashes; common
citizens turned warriors, commanding battalions of noisy volunteers and swearing
like troopers to emphasize their importance.
The very fact of bearing arms and handling guns with a system excited a people
who hitherto had only handled scales and measures and made them formidable to
the first comer, without reason. They even executed a few innocent people to
prove that they knew how to kill, and in roaming through virgin fields still
belonging to the Prussians they shot stray dogs, cows chewing the cud in peace
or sick horses put out to pasture. Each believed himself called upon to play a
great role in military affairs. The cafès of the smallest villages, full of
tradesmen in uniform, resembled barracks or field hospitals.
Now the town of Canneville did not yet know the exciting news of the army and
the capital. It had, however, been greatly agitated for a month over an
encounter between the rival political parties. The mayor, Viscount de Varnetot,
a small thin man, already old, remained true to the Empire, especially since he
saw rising up against him a powerful adversary in the great, sanguine form of Dr
Massarel, head of the Republican party in the district, venerable chief of the
Masonic lodge, president of the Society of Agriculture and the Fire Department
and organizer of the rural militia designed to save the country.
In two weeks he had induced sixty-three men to volunteer in defense of their
country--married men, fathers of families, prudent farmers and merchants of the
town. These he drilled every morning in front of the mayor's window.
Whenever the mayor happened to appear Commander Massarel, covered with pistols,
passing proudly up and down in front of his troops, would make them shout, "Long
live our country!" And this, they noticed, disturbed the little viscount, who no
doubt heard in it menace and defiance and perhaps some odious recollection of
the great Revolution.
On the morning of the fifth of September, in uniform, his revolver on the table,
the doctor gave consultation to an old peasant couple. The husband had suffered
with a varicose vein for seven years but had waited until his wife had one too,
so that they might go and hunt up a physician together, guided by the postman
when he should come with the newspaper.
Dr Massarel opened the door, grew pale, straightened himself abruptly and,
raising his arms to heaven in a gesture of exaltation, cried out with all his
might, in the face of the amazed rustics:
"Long live the Republic! Long live the Republic! Long live the Republic!"
Then he dropped into his armchair weak with emotion.
When the peasant explained that this sickness commenced with a feeling as if
ants were running up and down his legs the doctor exclaimed: "Hold your peace. I
have spent too much time with you stupid people. The Republic is proclaimed! The
Emperor is a prisoner! France is saved! Long live the Republic!" And, running to
the door, he bellowed: "Celeste! Quick! Celeste!"
The frightened maid hastened in. He stuttered, so rapidly did he try to speak"
"My boots, my saber--my cartridge box--and--the Spanish dagger which is on my
night table. Hurry now!"
The obstinate peasant, taking advantage of the moment's silence, began again:
"This seemed like some cysts that hurt me when I walked."
The exasperated physician shouted: "Hold your peace! For heaven's sake! If you
had washed your feet oftener, it would not have happened." Then, seizing him by
the neck, he hissed in his face: "Can you not comprehend that we are living in a
republic, stupid;"
But the professional sentiment calmed him suddenly, and he let the astonished
old couple out of the house, repeating all the time:
"Return tomorrow, return tomorrow, my friends; I have no more time today."
While equipping himself from head to foot he gave another series of urgent
orders to the maid:
"Run to Lieutenant Picard's and to Sublieutenant Pommel's and say to them that I
want them here immediately. Send Torcheboeuf to me too, with his drum. Quick
now! Quick!" And when Celeste was gone he collected his thoughts and prepared to
surmount the difficulties of the situation.
The three men arrived together. They were in their working clothes. The
commander, who had expected to see them in uniform, had a fit of surprise.
"You know nothing, then? The Emperor has been taken prisoner. A republic is
proclaimed. My position is delicate, not to say perilous."
He reflected for some minutes before the astonished faces of his subordinates
and then continued:
"It is necessary to act, not to hesitate. Minutes now are worth hours at other
times. Everything depends upon promptness of decision. You, Picard, go and find
the curate and get him to ring the bell to bring the people together, while I
get ahead of them. You, Torcheboeuf, beat the call to assemble the militia in
arms, in the square, from even as far as the hamlets of Gerisaie and Salmare.
You, Pommel, put on your uniform at once, that is, the jacket and cap. We,
together, are going to take possession of the mairie and summon Monsieur
de Varnetot to transfer his authority to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Act, then, and promptly. I will accompany you to your house, Pommel, Since we
are to work together."
Five minutes later the commander and his subaltern, armed to the teeth, appeared
in the square just at the moment when the little Viscount de Varnetot, with
hunting gaiters on and his rifle on his shoulder, appeared by another street,
walking rapidly and followed by three guards in green jackets, each carrying a
knife at his side and a gun over his shoulder.
While the doctor slapped, half stupefied, the four men entered the mayor's house
and the door closed behind them.
"We are forestalled," murmured the doctor; "it will be necessary now to wait for
reinforcements; nothing can be done for a quarter of an hour."
Here Lieutenant Picard appeared. "The curate refuses to obey," said he; "he has
even shut himself up in the church with the beadle and the porter."
On the other side of the square, opposite the white closed front of the
mairie, the church, mute and black, showed its great oak door with the
wrought-iron trimmings.
Then, as the puzzled inhabitants put their noses out of the windows or came out
upon the steps of their houses, the rolling of a drum was heard, and Torcheboeuf
suddenly appeared, beating with fury the three quick strokes of the call to
arms. He crossed the square with disciplined step and then disappeared on a road
leading to the country.
The commander drew his sword, advanced alone to the middle distance between the
two buildings where the enemy was barricaded and, waving his weapon above his
head, roared at the top of his lungs: "Long live the Republic! Death to
traitors!" Then he fell back where his officers were. The butcher, the baker and
the apothecary, feeling a little uncertain, put up their shutters and closed
their shops. The grocery alone remained open.
Meanwhile the men of the militia were arriving little by little, variously
clothed but all wearing caps, the cap constituting the whole uniform of the
corps. They were armed with their old rusty guns, guns that had hung on chimney
pieces in kitchens for thirty years, and looked quite like a detachment of
country soldiers.
When there were about thirty around him the commander explained in a few words
the state of affairs. Then, turning toward his major, he said: "Now we must
act."
While the inhabitants collected, talked over and discussed the matter the doctor
quickly formed his plan of campaign.
"Lieutenant Picard, you advance to the windows of the mayor's house and order
Monsieur de Varnetot to turn over the town hall to me in the name of the
Republic."
But the lieutenant was a master mason and refused.
"You are a scamp, you are. Trying to make a target of me! Those fellows in there
are good shots, you know that. No, thanks! Execute your commissions yourself!"
The commander turned red. "I order you to go in the name of discipline," said
he.
"I am not spoiling my features without knowing why," the lieutenant returned.
Men of influence, in a group near by, were heard laughing. One of them called
out: "You are right, Picard, it is not the proper time." The doctor, under his
breath, muttered: "Cowards! " And placing his sword and his revolver in the
hands of a soldier, he advanced with measured step, his eye fixed on the windows
as if he expected to see a gun or a cannon pointed at him.
When he was within a few steps of the building the doors at the two extremities,
affording an entrance to two schools, opened, and a flood of little creatures,
boys on one side, girls on the other, poured out and began playing in the open
space, chattering around the doctor like a flock of birds. He scarcely knew what
to make of it.
As soon as the last were out the doors closed. The greater part of the little
monkeys finally scattered, and then the commander called out in a loud voice:
"Monsieur de Varnetot?" A window in the first story opened and M. de Varnetot
appeared.
The commander began: "Monsieur, you are aware of the great events which have
changed the system of government. The party you represent no longer exists. The
side I represent now comes into power. Under these sad but decisive
circumstances I come to demand you, in the name of the Republic, to put in my
hand the authority vested in you by the outgoing power."
M. de Varnetot replied: "Doctor Massarel, I am mayor of Canneville, so placed by
the proper authorities, and mayor of Canneville I shall remain until the title
is revoked and replaced by an order from my superiors. As mayor, I am at home in
the mairie, and there I shall stay. Furthermore, just try to put me out."
And he closed the window.
The commander returned to his troops. But before explaining anything, measuring
Lieutenant Picard from head to foot, he said:
"You are a numskull, you are--a goose, the disgrace of the army. I shall degrade
you."
The lieutenant replied: "I'll attend to that myself." And he went over to a
group of muttering civilians.
Then the doctor hesitated. What should he do? Make an assault? Would his men
obey him? And then was he surely in the right? An idea burst upon him. He ran to
the telegraph office on the other side of the square and hurriedly sent three
dispatches: "To the Members of the Republican Government at Paris"; "To the New
Republican Prefect of the Lower Seine at Rouen"; "To the New Republican
Subprefect of Dieppe."
He exposed the situation fully; told of the danger run by the commonwealth from
remaining in the hands of the monarchistic mayor, offered his devout services,
asked for orders and signed his name, following it up with all his titles. Then
he returned to his army corps and, drawing ten francs out of his pocket, said:
"Now, my friends, go and eat and drink a little something. Only leave here a
detachment of ten men, so that no one leaves the mayor's house."
Ex-Lieutenant Picard, chatting with the watchmaker, overheard this. With a sneer
he remarked: "Pardon me, but if they go out, there will be an opportunity for
you to go in. Otherwise I can't see how you are to get in there!"
The doctor made no reply but went away to luncheon. In the afternoon he disposed
of offices all about town, having the air of knowing of an impending surprise.
Many times he passed before the doors of the mairie and of the church
without noticing anything suspicious; one could have believed the two buildings
empty.
The butcher, the baker and the apothecary reopened their shops and stood
gossiping on the steps. If the Emperor had been taken prisoner, there must be a
traitor somewhere. They did not feel sure of the revenue of a new republic.
Night came on. Toward nine o'clock the doctor returned quietly and alone to the
mayor's residence, persuaded that his adversary had retired. And as he was
trying to force an entrance with a few blows of a pickax the loud voice of a
guard demanded suddenly: "Who goes there?" M. Massarel beat a retreat at the top
of his speed.
Another day dawned without any change in the situation. The militia in arms
occupied the square. The inhabitants stood around awaiting the solution. People
from neighboring villages came to look on. Finally the doctor, realizing that
his reputation was at stake, resolved to settle the thing in one way or another.
He had just decided that it must be something energetic when the door of the
telegraph office opened and the little servant of the directress appeared,
holding in her hand two papers.
She went directly to the commander and gave him one of the dispatches; then,
crossing the square, intimidated by so many eyes fixed upon her, with lowered
head and mincing steps, she rapped gently at the door of the barricaded house as
if ignorant that a part of the army was concealed there.
The door opened slightly; the hand of a man received the message, and the girl
returned, blushing and ready to weep from being stared at.
The doctor demanded with stirring voice: "A little silence, if you please." And
after the populace became quiet he continued proudly:
Here is a communication which I have received from the government." And, raising
the dispatch, he read:
"Old mayor deposed. Advise us what is most necessary. Instructions later.
"For the Subprefect,
"SAPIN, Counselor."
He had triumphed. His heart was beating with joy. His hand trembled, when Picard,
his old subaltern, cried out to him from the neighboring group:
"That's all right; but if the others in there won't go out, your paper hasn't a
leg to stand on." The doctor grew a little pale. If they would not go out--in
fact, he must go ahead now. It was not only his right but his duty. And he
looked anxiously at the house of the mayoralty, hoping that he might see the
door open and his adversary show himself. But the door remained closed. What was
to be done? The crowd was increasing, surrounding the militia. Some laughed.
One thought, especially, tortured the doctor. If he should make an assault, he
must march at the head of his men; and as with him dead all contest would cease,
it would be at him and at him alone that M. de Varnetot and the three guards
would aim. And their aim was good, very good! Picard had reminded him of that.
But an idea shone in upon him, and turning to Pommel, he said: "Go, quickly, and
ask the apothecary to send me a napkin and a pole."
The lieutenant hurried off. The doctor was going to make a political banner, a
white one, that would, perhaps, rejoice the heart of that old legitimist, the
mayor.
Pommel returned with the required linen and a broom handle. With some pieces of
string they improvised a standard, which Massarel seized in both hands. Again he
advanced toward the house of mayoralty, bearing the standard before him. When in
front of the door, he called out: "Monsieur de Varnetot!"
The door opened suddenly, and M. de Varnetot and the three guards appeared on
the threshold. The doctor recoiled instinctively. Then he saluted his enemy
courteously and announced, almost strangled by emotion: "I have come, sir, to
communicate to you the instructions I have just received."
That gentleman, without any salutation whatever, replied: "I am going to
withdraw, sir, but you must understand that it is not because of fear or in
obedience to an odious government that has usurped the power." And, biting off
each word, he declared: "I do not wish to have the appearance of serving the
Republic for a single day. That is all."
Massarel, amazed, made no reply; and M. de Varnetot, walking off at a rapid
pace, disappeared around the corner, followed closely by his escort Then the
doctor, slightly dismayed, returned to the crowd. When he was near enough to be
heard he cried: "Hurrah! Hurrah! The Republic triumphs all along the line!"
But no emotion was manifested. The doctor tried again. "The people are free! You
are free and independent! Do you understand? Be proud of it!"
The listless villagers looked at him with eyes unlit by glory. In his turn he
looked at them, indignant at their indifference, seeking for some wore that
could make a grand impression, electrify this placid country and make good his
mission. The inspiration came, and turning to Pommel, he said "Lieutenant, go
and gee the bust of the ex-emperor, which is in the Council Hall, and bring it
to me with a chair."
And soon the man reappears, carrying on his right shoulder Napoleon II in
plaster and holding in his left hand a straw-bottomed chair.
Massarel met him, took the chair, placed it on the ground, put the white image
upon it, fell back a few steps and called out in sonorous voice:
"Tyrant! Tyrant! Here do you fall! Fall in the dust and in the mire. expiring
country groans under your feet Destiny has called you the Avenge, Defeat and
shame cling to you. You fall conquered, a prisoner to the Prussians, and upon
the ruins of the crumbling Empire the young and radian Republic arises, picking
up your broken sword."
He awaited applause. But there was no voice, no sound. The bewildered peasants
remained silent. And the bust, with its pointed mustaches extending beyond the
cheeks on each side, the bust, so motionless and well groomed as to be fit for a
hairdresser's sign, seemed to be looking at M. Massarel with a plaster smile, a
smile ineffaceable and mocking.
They remained thus face to face, Napoleon on the chair, the doctor i front of
him about three steps away. Suddenly the commander grew angry.
What was to be done? What was there that would move this people and bring about
a definite victory in opinion? His hand happened to rest on his hip and to come
in contact there with the butt end of his revolver under his red sash. No
inspiration, no further word would come. But he drew his pistol, advanced two
steps and, taking aim, fired at the late monarch. The ball entered the forehead,
leaving a little black hole like a spot, nothing more. There was no effect. Then
he fired a second shot, which made a second hole, then a third; and then,
without stopping, he emptied his revolver. The brow of Napoleon disappeared in
white powder, but the eyes, the nose and the fine points of the mustaches
remained intact. Then, exasperated, the doctor overturned the chair with a blow
of his fist and, resting a foot on the remainder of the bust in a position of
triumph, he shouted: "So let all tyrants perish!"
Still no enthusiasm was manifest, and as the spectators seemed to be in a kind
of stupor from astonishment the commander called to the militiamen:
You may now go to your homes." And he went toward his own house with great
strides, as if he were pursued.
His maid, when he appeared, told him that some patients had been waiting in his
office for three hours. He hastened in. There were the two varicose-vein
patients, who had returned at daybreak, obstinate but patient.
The old man immediately began his explanation: "This began by a feeling like
ants running up and down the legs."