he had broken his futile lance with the windmill — the image suggested by m. de kercadiou persisted in his mind — and it was, he perceived, by sheer good fortune that he had escaped without hurt. there remained the wind itself — the whirlwind. and the events in rennes, reflex of the graver events in nantes, had set that wind blowing in his favour.
he set out briskly to retrace his steps towards the place royale, where the gathering of the populace was greatest, where, as he judged, lay the heart and brain of this commotion that was exciting the city.
but the commotion that he had left there was as nothing to the commotion which he found on his return. then there had been a comparative hush to listen to the voice of a speaker who denounced the first and second estates from the pedestal of the statue of louis xv. now the air was vibrant with the voice of the multitude itself, raised in anger. here and there men were fighting with canes and fists; everywhere a fierce excitement raged, and the gendarmes sent thither by the king’s lieutenant to restore and maintain order were so much helpless flotsam in that tempestuous human ocean.
there were cries of “to the palais! to the palais! down with the assassins! down with the nobles! to the palais!”
an artisan who stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the press enlightened andre–louis on the score of the increased excitement.
“they’ve shot him dead. his body is lying there where it fell at the foot of the statue. and there was another student killed not an hour ago over there by the cathedral works. pardi! if they can’t prevail in one way they’ll prevail in another.” the man was fiercely emphatic. “they’ll stop at nothing. if they can’t overawe us, by god, they’ll assassinate us. they are determined to conduct these states of brittany in their own way. no interests but their own shall be considered.”
andre–louis left him still talking, and clove himself a way through that human press.
at the statue’s base he came upon a little cluster of students about the body of the murdered lad, all stricken with fear and helplessness.
“you here, moreau!” said a voice.
he looked round to find himself confronted by a slight, swarthy man of little more than thirty, firm of mouth and impertinent of nose, who considered him with disapproval. it was le chapelier, a lawyer of rennes, a prominent member of the literary chamber of that city, a forceful man, fertile in revolutionary ideas and of an exceptional gift of eloquence.
“ah, it is you, chapelier! why don’t you speak to them? why don’t you tell them what to do? up with you, man!” and he pointed to the plinth.
le chapelier’s dark, restless eyes searched the other’s impassive face for some trace of the irony he suspected. they were as wide asunder as the poles, these two, in their political views; and mistrusted as andre–louis was by all his colleagues of the literary chamber of rennes, he was by none mistrusted so thoroughly as by this vigorous republican. indeed, had le chapelier been able to prevail against the influence of the seminarist vilmorin, andre–louis would long since have found himself excluded from that assembly of the intellectual youth of rennes, which he exasperated by his eternal mockery of their ideals.
so now le chapelier suspected mockery in that invitation, suspected it even when he failed to find traces of it on andre–louis’ face, for he had learnt by experience that it was a face not often to be trusted for an indication of the real thoughts that moved behind it.
“your notions and mine on that score can hardly coincide,” said he.
“can there be two opinions?” quoth andre–louis.
“there are usually two opinions whenever you and i are together, moreau — more than ever now that you are the appointed delegate of a nobleman. you see what your friends have done. no doubt you approve their methods.” he was coldly hostile.
andre–louis looked at him without surprise. so invariably opposed to each other in academic debates, how should le chapelier suspect his present intentions?
“if you won’t tell them what is to be done, i will,” said he.
“nom de dieu! if you want to invite a bullet from the other side, i shall not hinder you. it may help to square the account.”
scarcely were the words out than he repented them; for as if in answer to that challenge andre–louis sprang up on to the plinth. alarmed now, for he could only suppose it to be andre–louis’ intention to speak on behalf of privilege, of which he was a publicly appointed representative, le chapelier clutched him by the leg to pull him down again.
“ah, that, no!” he was shouting. “come down, you fool. do you think we will let you ruin everything by your clowning? come down!”
andre–louis, maintaining his position by clutching one of the legs of the bronze horse, flung his voice like a bugle-note over the heads of that seething mob.
“citizens of rennes, the motherland is in danger!”
the effect was electric. a stir ran, like a ripple over water, across that froth of upturned human faces, and completest silence followed. in that great silence they looked at this slim young man, hatless, long wisps of his black hair fluttering in the breeze, his neckcloth in disorder, his face white, his eyes on fire.
andre–louis felt a sudden surge of exaltation as he realized by instinct that at one grip he had seized that crowd, and that he held it fast in the spell of his cry and his audacity.
even le chapelier, though still clinging to his ankle, had ceased to tug. the reformer, though unshaken in his assumption of andre–louis’ intentions, was for a moment bewildered by the first note of his appeal.
and then, slowly, impressively, in a voice that travelled clear to the ends of the square, the young lawyer of gavrillac began to speak.
“shuddering in horror of the vile deed here perpetrated, my voice demands to be heard by you. you have seen murder done under your eyes — the murder of one who nobly, without any thought of self, gave voice to the wrongs by which we are all oppressed. fearing that voice, shunning the truth as foul things shun the light, our oppressors sent their agents to silence him in death.”
le chapelier released at last his hold of andre–louis’ ankle, staring up at him the while in sheer amazement. it seemed that the fellow was in earnest; serious for once; and for once on the right side. what had come to him?
“of assassins what shall you look for but assassination? i have a tale to tell which will show that this is no new thing that you have witnessed here to-day; it will reveal to you the forces with which you have to deal. yesterday . . . ”
there was an interruption. a voice in the crowd, some twenty paces, perhaps, was raised to shout:
“yet another of them!”
immediately after the voice came a pistol-shot, and a bullet flattened itself against the bronze figure just behind andre–louis.
instantly there was turmoil in the crowd, most intense about the spot whence the shot had been fired. the assailant was one of a considerable group of the opposition, a group that found itself at once beset on every side, and hard put to it to defend him.
from the foot of the plinth rang the voice of the students making chorus to le chapelier, who was bidding andre–louis to seek shelter.
“come down! come down at once! they’ll murder you as they murdered la riviere.”
“let them!” he flung wide his arms in a gesture supremely theatrical, and laughed. “i stand here at their mercy. let them, if they will, add mine to the blood that will presently rise up to choke them. let them assassinate me. it is a trade they understand. but until they do so, they shall not prevent me from speaking to you, from telling you what is to be looked for in them.” and again he laughed, not merely in exaltation as they supposed who watched him from below, but also in amusement. and his amusement had two sources. one was to discover how glibly he uttered the phrases proper to whip up the emotions of a crowd: the other was in the remembrance of how the crafty cardinal de retz, for the purpose of inflaming popular sympathy on his behalf, had been in the habit of hiring fellows to fire upon his carriage. he was in just such case as that arch-politician. true, he had not hired the fellow to fire that pistol-shot; but he was none the less obliged to him, and ready to derive the fullest, advantage from the act.
the group that sought to protect that man was battling on, seeking to hew a way out of that angry, heaving press.
“let them go!” andre–louis called down . . . “what matters one assassin more or less? let them go, and listen to me, my countrymen!”
and presently, when some measure of order was restored, he began his tale. in simple language now, yet with a vehemence and directness that drove home every point, he tore their hearts with the story of yesterday’s happenings at gavrillac. he drew tears from them with the pathos of his picture of the bereaved widow mabey and her three starving, destitute children —“orphaned to avenge the death of a pheasant”— and the bereaved mother of that m. de vilmorin, a student of rennes, known here to many of them, who had met his death in a noble endeavour to champion the cause of an esurient member of their afflicted order.
“the marquis de la tour d’azyr said of him that he had too dangerous a gift of eloquence. it was to silence his brave voice that he killed him. but he has failed of his object. for i, poor philippe de vilmorin’s friend, have assumed the mantle of his apostleship, and i speak to you with his voice to-day.”
it was a statement that helped le chapelier at last to understand, at least in part, this bewildering change in andre–louis, which rendered him faithless to the side that employed him.
“i am not here,” continued andre–louis, “merely to demand at your hands vengeance upon philippe de vilmorin’s murderers. i am here to tell you the things he would to-day have told you had he lived.”
so far at least he was frank. but he did not add that they were things he did not himself believe, things that he accounted the cant by which an ambitious bourgeoisie — speaking through the mouths of the lawyers, who were its articulate part — sought to overthrow to its own advantage the present state of things. he left his audience in the natural belief that the views he expressed were the views he held.
and now in a terrible voice, with an eloquence that amazed himself, he denounced the inertia of the royal justice where the great are the offenders. it was with bitter sarcasm that he spoke of their king’s lieutenant, m. de lesdiguieres.
“do you wonder,” he asked them, “that m. de lesdiguieres should administer the law so that it shall ever be favourable to our great nobles? would it be just, would it be reasonable that he should otherwise administer it?” he paused dramatically to let his sarcasm sink in. it had the effect of reawakening le chapelier’s doubts, and checking his dawning conviction in andre–louis’ sincerity. whither was he going now?
he was not left long in doubt. proceeding, andre–louis spoke as he conceived that philippe de vilmorin would have spoken. he had so often argued with him, so often attended the discussions of the literary chamber, that he had all the rant of the reformers — that was yet true in substance — at his fingers’ ends.
“consider, after all, the composition of this france of ours. a million of its inhabitants are members of the privileged classes. they compose france. they are france. for surely you cannot suppose the remainder to be anything that matters. it cannot be pretended that twenty-four million souls are of any account, that they can be representative of this great nation, or that they can exist for any purpose but that of servitude to the million elect.”
bitter laughter shook them now, as he desired it should. “seeing their privileges in danger of invasion by these twenty-four millions — mostly canailles; possibly created by god, it is true, but clearly so created to be the slaves of privilege — does it surprise you that the dispensing of royal justice should be placed in the stout hands of these lesdiguieres, men without brains to think or hearts to be touched? consider what it is that must be defended against the assault of us others — canaille. consider a few of these feudal rights that are in danger of being swept away should the privileged yield even to the commands of their sovereign; and admit the third estate to an equal vote with themselves.
“what would become of the right of terrage on the land, of parciere on the fruit-trees, of carpot on the vines? what of the corvees by which they command forced labour, of the ban de vendage, which gives them the first vintage, the banvin which enables them to control to their own advantage the sale of wine? what of their right of grinding the last liard of taxation out of the people to maintain their own opulent estate; the cens, the lods-et-ventes, which absorb a fifth of the value of the land, the blairee, which must be paid before herds can feed on communal lands, the pulverage to indemnify them for the dust raised on their roads by the herds that go to market, the sextelage on everything offered for sale in the public markets, the etalonnage, and all the rest? what of their rights over men and animals for field labour, of ferries over rivers, and of bridges over streams, of sinking wells, of warren, of dovecot, and of fire, which last yields them a tax on every peasant hearth? what of their exclusive rights of fishing and of hunting, the violation of which is ranked as almost a capital offence?
“and what of other rights, unspeakable, abominable, over the lives and bodies of their people, rights which, if rarely exercised, have never been rescinded. to this day if a noble returning from the hunt were to slay two of his serfs to bathe and refresh his feet in their blood, he could still claim in his sufficient defence that it was his absolute feudal right to do so.
“rough-shod, these million privileged ride over the souls and bodies of twenty-four million contemptible canaille existing but for their own pleasure. woe betide him who so much as raises his voice in protest in the name of humanity against an excess of these already excessive abuses. i have told you of one remorselessly slain in cold blood for doing no more than that. your own eyes have witnessed the assassination of another here upon this plinth, of yet another over there by the cathedral works, and the attempt upon my own life.
“between them and the justice due to them in such cases stand these lesdiguieres, these king’s lieutenants; not instruments of justice, but walls erected for the shelter of privilege and abuse whenever it exceeds its grotesquely excessive rights.
“do you wonder that they will not yield an inch; that they will resist the election of a third estate with the voting power to sweep all these privileges away, to compel the privileged to submit themselves to a just equality in the eyes of the law with the meanest of the canaille they trample underfoot, to provide that the moneys necessary to save this state from the bankruptcy into which they have all but plunged it shall be raised by taxation to be borne by themselves in the same proportion as by others?
“sooner than yield to so much they prefer to resist even the royal command.”
a phrase occurred to him used yesterday by vilmorin, a phrase to which he had refused to attach importance when uttered then. he used it now. “in doing this they are striking at the very foundations of the throne. these fools do not perceive that if that throne falls over, it is they who stand nearest to it who will be crushed.”
a terrific roar acclaimed that statement. tense and quivering with the excitement that was flowing through him, and from him out into that great audience, he stood a moment smiling ironically. then he waved them into silence, and saw by their ready obedience how completely he possessed them. for in the voice with which he spoke each now recognized the voice of himself, giving at last expression to the thoughts that for months and years had been inarticulately stirring in each simple mind.
presently he resumed, speaking more quietly, that ironic smile about the corner of his mouth growing more marked:
“in taking my leave of m. de lesdiguieres i gave him warning out of a page of natural history. i told him that when the wolves, roaming singly through the jungle, were weary of being hunted by the tiger, they banded themselves into packs, and went a-hunting the tiger in their turn. m. de lesdiguieres contemptuously answered that he did not understand me. but your wits are better than his. you understand me, i think? don’t you?”
again a great roar, mingled now with some approving laughter, was his answer. he had wrought them up to a pitch of dangerous passion, and they were ripe for any violence to which he urged them. if he had failed with the windmill, at least he was now master of the wind.
“to the palais!” they shouted, waving their hands, brandishing canes, and — here and there — even a sword. “to the palais! down with m. de lesdiguieres! death to the king’s lieutenant!”
he was master of the wind, indeed. his dangerous gift of oratory — a gift nowhere more powerful than in france, since nowhere else are men’s emotions so quick to respond to the appeal of eloquence — had given him this mastery. at his bidding now the gale would sweep away the windmill against which he had flung himself in vain. but that, as he straightforwardly revealed it, was no part of his intent.
“ah, wait!” he bade them. “is this miserable instrument of a corrupt system worth the attention of your noble indignation?”
he hoped his words would be reported to m. de lesdiguieres. he thought it would be good for the soul of m. de lesdiguieres to hear the undiluted truth about himself for once.
“it is the system itself you must attack and overthrow; not a mere instrument — a miserable painted lath such as this. and precipitancy will spoil everything. above all, my children, no violence!”
my children! could his godfather have heard him!
“you have seen often already the result of premature violence elsewhere in brittany, and you have heard of it elsewhere in france. violence on your part will call for violence on theirs. they will welcome the chance to assert their mastery by a firmer grip than heretofore. the military will be sent for. you will be faced by the bayonets of mercenaries. do not provoke that, i implore you. do not put it into their power, do not afford them the pretext they would welcome to crush you down into the mud of your own blood.”
out of the silence into which they had fallen anew broke now the cry of
“what else, then? what else?”
“i will tell you,” he answered them. “the wealth and strength of brittany lies in nantes — a bourgeois city, one of the most prosperous in this realm, rendered so by the energy of the bourgeoisie and the toil of the people. it was in nantes that this movement had its beginning, and as a result of it the king issued his order dissolving the states as now constituted — an order which those who base their power on privilege and abuse do not hesitate to thwart. let nantes be informed of the precise situation, and let nothing be done here until nantes shall have given us the lead. she has the power — which we in rennes have not — to make her will prevail, as we have seen already. let her exert that power once more, and until she does so do you keep the peace in rennes. thus shall you triumph. thus shall the outrages that are being perpetrated under your eyes be fully and finally avenged.”
as abruptly as he had leapt upon the plinth did he now leap down from it. he had finished. he had said all — perhaps more than all — that could have been said by the dead friend with whose voice he spoke. but it was not their will that he should thus extinguish himself. the thunder of their acclamations rose deafeningly upon the air. he had played upon their emotions — each in turn — as a skilful harpist plays upon the strings of his instrument. and they were vibrant with the passions he had aroused, and the high note of hope on which he had brought his symphony to a close.
a dozen students caught him as he leapt down, and swung him to their shoulders, where again he came within view of all the acclaiming crowd.
the delicate le chapelier pressed alongside of him with flushed face and shining eyes.
“my lad,” he said to him, “you have kindled a fire to-day that will sweep the face of france in a blaze of liberty.” and then to the students he issued a sharp command. “to the literary chamber — at once. we must concert measures upon the instant, a delegate must be dispatched to nantes forthwith, to convey to our friends there the message of the people of rennes.”
the crowd fell back, opening a lane through which the students bore the hero of the hour. waving his hands to them, he called upon them to disperse to their homes, and await there in patience what must follow very soon.
“you have endured for centuries with a fortitude that is a pattern to the world,” he flattered them. “endure a little longer yet. the end, my friends, is well in sight at last.”
they carried him out of the square and up the rue royale to an old house, one of the few old houses surviving in that city that had risen from its ashes, where in an upper chamber lighted by diamond-shaped panes of yellow glass the literary chamber usually held its meetings. thither in his wake the members of that chamber came hurrying, summoned by the messages that le chapelier had issued during their progress.
behind closed doors a flushed and excited group of some fifty men, the majority of whom were young, ardent, and afire with the illusion of liberty, hailed andre–louis as the strayed sheep who had returned to the fold, and smothered him in congratulations and thanks.
then they settled down to deliberate upon immediate measures, whilst the doors below were kept by a guard of honour that had improvised itself from the masses. and very necessary was this. for no sooner had the chamber assembled than the house was assailed by the gendarmerie of m. de lesdiguieres, dispatched in haste to arrest the firebrand who was inciting the people of rennes to sedition. the force consisted of fifty men. five hundred would have been too few. the mob broke their carbines, broke some of their heads, and would indeed have torn them into pieces had they not beaten a timely and well-advised retreat before a form of horseplay to which they were not at all accustomed.
and whilst that was taking place in the street below, in the room abovestairs the eloquent le chapelier was addressing his colleagues of the literary chamber. here, with no bullets to fear, and no one to report his words to the authorities, le chapelier could permit his oratory a full, unintimidated flow. and that considerable oratory was as direct and brutal as the man himself was delicate and elegant.
he praised the vigour and the greatness of the speech they had heard from their colleague moreau. above all he praised its wisdom. moreau’s words had come as a surprise to them. hitherto they had never known him as other than a bitter critic of their projects of reform and regeneration; and quite lately they had heard, not without misgivings, of his appointment as delegate for a nobleman in the states of brittany. but they held the explanation of his conversion. the murder of their dear colleague vilmorin had produced this change. in that brutal deed moreau had beheld at last in true proportions the workings of that evil spirit which they were vowed to exorcise from france. and to-day he had proven himself the stoutest apostle among them of the new faith. he had pointed out to them the only sane and useful course. the illustration he had borrowed from natural history was most apt. above all, let them pack like the wolves, and to ensure this uniformity of action in the people of all brittany, let a delegate at once be sent to nantes, which had already proved itself the real seat of brittany’s power. it but remained to appoint that delegate, and le chapelier invited them to elect him.
andre–louis, on a bench near the window, a prey now to some measure of reaction, listened in bewilderment to that flood of eloquence.
as the applause died down, he heard a voice exclaiming:
“i propose to you that we appoint our leader here, le chapelier, to be that delegate.”
le chapelier reared his elegantly dressed head, which had been bowed in thought, and it was seen that his countenance was pale. nervously he fingered a gold spy-glass.
“my friends,” he said, slowly, “i am deeply sensible of the honour that you do me. but in accepting it i should be usurping an honour that rightly belongs elsewhere. who could represent us better, who more deserving to be our representative, to speak to our friends of nantes with the voice of rennes, than the champion who once already to-day has so incomparably given utterance to the voice of this great city? confer this honour of being your spokesman where it belongs — upon andre–louis moreau.”
rising in response to the storm of applause that greeted the proposal, andre–louis bowed and forthwith yielded. “be it so,” he said, simply. “it is perhaps fitting that i should carry out what i have begun, though i too am of the opinion that le chapelier would have been a worthier representative. i will set out to-night.”
“you will set out at once, my lad,” le chapelier informed him, and now revealed what an uncharitable mind might account the true source of his generosity. “it is not safe after what has happened for you to linger an hour in rennes. and you must go secretly. let none of you allow it to be known that he has gone. i would not have you come to harm over this, andre–louis. but you must see the risks you run, and if you are to be spared to help in this work of salvation of our afflicted motherland, you must use caution, move secretly, veil your identity even. or else m. de lesdiguieres will have you laid by the heels, and it will be good-night for you.”
