Les Dieux ont soif. English Read online

  IX

  Evariste Gamelin was to enter on his duties on the 14th September, whenthe reorganization of the Tribunal was complete, according to which itwas henceforth subdivided into four sections with fifteen jurors foreach. The prisons were full to overflowing; the Public Prosecutor wasworking eighteen hours a day. Defeats in the field, revolts in theprovinces, conspiracies, plots, betrayals, the Convention had onepanacea for them all,--terror. The Gods were athirst.

  The first act of the new juror was to pay a visit of ceremony to thePresident Herman, who charmed him by the amiability of his conversationand the courtesy of his bearing. A compatriot and friend ofRobespierre's, whose sentiments he shared, he showed every sign of afeeling and virtuous temper. He was deeply attached to those humanesentiments, too long foreign to the heart of our judges, that redound tothe everlasting glory of a Dupaty and a Beccaria. He looked withcomplacency on the greater mildness of modern manners as evidenced, injudicial matters, by the abolition of torture and of ignominious orcruel forms of punishment. He was rejoiced to see the death penalty,once so recklessly inflicted and employed till quite lately for therepression of the most trifling offences, applied less frequently andreserved for heinous crimes. For his own part, he agreed withRobespierre and would gladly have seen it abolished altogether, exceptonly in cases touching the public safety. At the same time, he wouldhave deemed it treason to the State not to adjudge the punishment ofdeath for crimes against the National Sovereignty.

  All his colleagues were of like mind; the old Monarchical idea ofreasons of State still inspired the Revolutionary Tribunal. Eightcenturies of absolute power had moulded the magisterial conscience, andit was by the principles of Divine Right that the Court even now triedand sentenced the enemies of Liberty.

  The same day Evariste Gamelin sought an interview with the PublicProsecutor, the _citoyen_ Fouquier, who received him in the Cabinetwhere he used to work with his clerk of the court. He was a sturdilybuilt man, with a rough voice, catlike eyes, bearing in his pock-markedface and leaden complexion marks of the mischief wrought by a sedentaryand indoor life on a vigorous constitution adapted to the open air andviolent exercise. Towering piles of papers shut him in like the walls ofa tomb, and it was plain to see he was in his element amid all thesedreadful documents that seemed like to bury him alive. His conversationwas that of a hard-working magistrate, a man devoted to his task andwhose mind never left the narrow groove of his official duties. Hisfiery breath reeked of the brandy he took to keep up his strength; butthe liquor seemed never to fly to his brain, so clear-headed, albeitentirely commonplace, was every word he uttered.

  He lived in a small suite of rooms in the Palais de Justice with hisyoung wife, who had given him twin boys. His wife, an aunt Henriette andthe maid-servant Pelagie made up the whole household. He was good andkind to these women. In a word, he was an excellent person in his familyand professional relations, with a scarcity of ideas and a total lack ofimagination.

  Gamelin could not help being struck unpleasantly by the closeresemblance in temper and ways of thought between the new magistratesand their predecessors under the old regime. In fact, they were of theold regime; Herman had held the office of Advocate General to theCouncil of Artois; Fouquier was a former Procureur at the Chatelet. Theyhad preserved their character, whereas Gamelin believed in aRevolutionary palingenesis.

  Quitting the precincts of the court, he passed along the great galleryof the Palace and halted in front of the shops where articles of everysort and kind were exposed for sale in the most attractive fashion.Standing before the _citoyenne_ Tenot's stall, he turned over sundryhistorical, political, and philosophical works:--"The Chains ofSlavery," "An Essay on Despotism," "The Crimes of Queens." "Very good!"he thought, "here is Republican stuff!" and he asked the woman if shesold a great many of these books. She shook her head:

  "The only things that sell are songs and romances,"--and pulling aduodecimo volume out of a drawer:

  "Here," she told him, "here we have something good."

  Evariste read the title: "La Religieuse en chemise," "The Nun indishabille!"

  Before the next shop he came upon Philippe Desmahis, who, with a tender,conquering-hero air, among the _citoyenne_ Saint-Jorre's perfumes andpowders and sachets, was assuring the fair tradeswoman of his undyinglove, promising to paint her portrait and begging her to vouchsafe him amoment's talk that evening in the Tuileries gardens. There was noresisting him; persuasion sat on his lips and beamed from his eye. The_citoyenne_ Saint-Jorre was listening without a word, her eyes on theground, only too ready to believe him.

  * * * * *

  Wishing to familiarize himself with the awful duties imposed on him, thenew juror resolved to mingle with the throng and look on at a casebefore the Tribunal as a member of the general public. He climbed thegreat stairs on which a vast crowd was seated as in an amphitheatre andpushed his way into the ancient Hall of the Parlement of Paris.

  This was crammed to suffocation; some General or other was taking histrial. For in those days, as old Brotteaux put it, "the Convention,copying the example of His Britannic Majesty's Government, made a pointof arraigning beaten Generals, in default of traitorous Generals, thelatter taking good care not to stand their trial. Not that a beatenGeneral," Brotteaux would add, "is necessarily criminal, for in thenature of things there must be one in every battle. But there's nothinglike condemning a General to death for giving encouragement to others."

  Several had already appeared before the Tribunal; they were all alike,these empty-headed, opinionated soldiers with the brains of a sparrow inan ox's skull. This particular commander was pretty nearly as ignorantof the sieges and battles of his own campaign as the magistrates whowere questioning him; both sides, prosecution and defence, were lost ina fog of effectives, objectives, munitions and ammunitions, marches andcounter-marches. But the mass of citizens listening to these obscure andnever-ending details could see behind the half-witted soldier the bareand bleeding breast of the fatherland enduring a thousand deaths; and bylook and voice urged the jurymen, sitting quietly on their bench, to usetheir verdict as a club to fell the foes of the Republic.

  Evariste was firmly convinced of one thing,--what they had to strike atin the pitiful creature was the two dread monsters that were batteningon the fatherland, revolt and defeat. What a to-do to discover if thisparticular soldier was innocent or guilty! When La Vendee was recoveringheart, when Toulon was surrendering to the enemy, when the army of theRhine was recoiling before the victors of Mayence, when the Army of theNorth, cowering in Caesar's Camp, might be taken at a blow by theImperialists, the English, the Dutch, now masters of Valenciennes, theone important thing was to teach the Generals of the Republic to conqueror to die. To see yonder feeble-witted muddle-pated veteran losinghimself under cross-examination among his maps as he had done before inthe plains of Northern France, Gamelin longed to yell "death! death!"with the rest, and fled from the Hall of Audience to escape thetemptation.

  * * * * *

  At the meeting of the Section, the newly appointed juryman received thecongratulations of the President Olivier, who made him swear on the oldhigh altar of the Barnabites, now altar of the fatherland, to stifle inhis heart, in the sacred name of humanity, every human weakness.

  Gamelin, with uplifted right hand, invoked as witness of his oath theaugust shade of Marat, martyr of Liberty, whose bust had lately been setup against a pillar of the erstwhile church, facing that of Le Peltier.

  There was some applause, interrupted by cries of protest. The meetingwas a stormy one; at the entrance of the nave stood a group of membersof the Section, armed with pikes and shouting clamorously:

  "It is anti-republican," declared the President, "to carry arms at ameeting of free citizens,"--and he ordered the muskets and pikes to bedeposited there and then in the erstwhile sacristy.

  A hunchback, with blazing eyes and lips drawn back so as to show theteeth, the _citoyen_ Beauvisage, o
f the Committee of Vigilance, mountedto the pulpit, now become the speakers' tribune and surmounted by a redcap of liberty.

  "The Generals are betraying us," he vociferated, "and surrendering ourarmies to the enemy. The Imperialists are pushing forward their cavalryaround Peronne and Saint-Quentin. Toulon has been given up to theEnglish, who are landing fourteen thousand men there. The foes of theRepublic are busy with plots in the very bosom of the Convention. In thecapital conspiracies without number are afoot to deliver _the Austrian_.At this very moment while I speak there runs a rumour that the Capetbrat has escaped from the Temple and is being borne in triumph toSaint-Cloud by those who would fain re-erect the tyrant's throne in hisfavour. The dearness of food, the depreciation of the _assignats_ arethe direct result of manoeuvres carried out in our own homes, beneathour very eyes, by the agents of the foreigners. In the name of publicsafety I call upon the new juryman, our fellow-citizen, to show no pityto conspirators and traitors."

  As he left the tribune, cries rose among the audience: "Down with theRevolutionary Tribunal! Down with the Moderates!"

  A stout, rosy-faced man, the _citoyen_ Dupont senior, a joiner living inthe Place de Thionville, mounted the Tribune, announcing that he wishedto ask a question of the new juror. Then he demanded of Gamelin whatattitude he meant to take up in the matter of the Brissotins and of thewidow Capet.

  Evariste was timid and unpractised in public speaking. But indignationgave him eloquence. He rose with a pale face and said in a voice ofsuppressed emotion:

  "I am a magistrate. I am responsible to my conscience only. Any promiseI might make you would be against my duty, which is to speak in theCourt and hold my peace elsewhere. I have ceased to know you. It is mineto give judgment; I know neither friends nor enemies."

  The meeting, made up like all meetings of divers elements and subject tosudden and incalculable moods, approved these sentiments. But the_citoyen_ Dupont returned to the charge; he could not forgive Gamelinfor having secured a post he had coveted himself.

  "I understand," he said, "I even approve the juror's scruples. They sayhe is a patriot; it is for him to examine his conscience and see if itpermits him to sit on a tribunal intended to destroy the enemies of theRepublic and resolved to spare them. There are circumstances in which agood citizen is bound to repudiate all complicity. Is it not averredthat more than one juror of this tribunal has let himself be corruptedby the gold of the accused, and that the President Montane falsified theprocedure to save the head of the woman Corday?"

  At the words the hall resounded with vehement applause. The vaults werestill reverberating with the uproar when Fortune Trubert mounted thetribune. He had grown thinner than ever in the last few months. His facewas pale and the cheek-bones seemed ready to pierce the reddened skin;his eyes had a glassy look under the inflamed lids.

  "_Citoyens_," he began, in a weak, breathless voice that yet had astrangely penetrating quality, "we cannot suspect the RevolutionaryTribunal without at the same time suspecting the Convention and theCommittee of Public Safety from which it derives its powers. The_citoyen_ Beauvisage has alarmed us, showing us the President Montanetampering with the course of justice in favour of a culprit. Why did henot add, to relieve our fears, that on the denunciation of the PublicProsecutor, Montane has been dismissed his office and thrown intoprison?... Is it impossible to watch over the public safety withoutcasting suspicion on all and sundry? Is there no talent, no virtue leftin the Convention? Robespierre, Couthon, Saint-Just, are not thesehonest men? It is a notable thing that the most violent language is heldby individuals who have never been known to fight for the Republic. Theycould speak no otherwise if they wish to render her hateful. _Citoyens_,less talk, say I, and more work! It is with shot and shell and not withshouting that France will be saved. One-half the cellars of the Sectionhave not been dug up. Not a few citizens still hold considerablequantities of bronze. We would remind the rich that patriotic gifts arefor them the most potent guarantees. I recommend to your generosity thewives and daughters of our soldiers who are covering themselves withglory on the frontiers and on the Loire. One of these, the hussarPommier (Augustin), formerly a cellarman's lad in the Rue de Jerusalem,on the 10th of last month, before Conde, when watering the troop horses,was set upon by six Austrian cavalrymen; he killed two of them andbrought in the others prisoners. I ask the Section to declare thatPommier (Augustin) has done his duty."

  This speech was applauded and the Sectionaries dispersed with cries of"Vive la Republique!"

  Left alone in the nave with Trubert, Gamelin pressed the latter's hand.

  "Thank you. How are you?"

  "I? Oh! Very well, very well!" replied Trubert, coughing and spittingblood into his handkerchief. "The Republic has many enemies without andwithin, and our own Section counts a not inconsiderable number of them.It is not with loud talk but with iron and laws that empires are founded... good night, Gamelin; I have letters to write."

  And he disappeared, his handkerchief pressed to his lips, into theold-time sacristy.

  * * * * *

  The widow Gamelin, her cockade now and henceforth fastened morecarefully in her hood, had from one day to the next assumed a fine,consequential air, a Republican haughtiness and the dignified carriagesuitable to the mother of a juror of the State.

  The veneration for the law in which she had been brought up, theadmiration with which the magistrate's gown and cassock had from a childinspired her, the holy terror she had always experienced at sight ofthose to whom God had delegated on earth His divine right of life anddeath, these feelings made her regard as an august and worshipful andholy being the son whom till yesterday she had thought of as little morethan a child. To her simple mind the conviction of the continuity ofjustice through all the changes of the Revolution was as strong as wasthat of the legislators of the Convention regarding the continuity ofthe State under varying systems of government, and the RevolutionaryTribunal appeared to her every whit as majestic as any of thetime-honoured jurisdictions she had been taught to revere.

  The _citoyen_ Brotteaux showed the young magistrate an interest mingledwith surprise and a reluctant deference. His views were the same as thewidow Gamelin's as to the continuity of justice under successivegovernments; but, in flat contradiction to that good lady's attitude,his scorn for the Revolutionary Tribunals was on a par with his contemptfor the courts of the ancien regime. Not daring to express his opinionsopenly and unable to make up his mind to say nothing, he indulged in astring of paradoxes which Gamelin understood just well enough to suspectthe anti-patriotism that underlay them.

  "The august tribunal whereon you are soon to take your seat," he toldhim on one occasion, "was instituted by the French Senate for thesecurity of the Republic; and it was for certain a magnanimous thoughton the part of our legislators to set up a court to try our enemies. Iappreciate its generosity, but I doubt its wisdom. It would have showngreater astuteness, it seems to me, if they had struck down in the darkthe more irreconcilable of their adversaries and won over the rest bygifts and promises. A tribunal strikes slowly and effects more harm thanit inspires fear; its first duty is to make an example. The mischiefyours does is to unite together all whom it terrifies and make out of amass of contradictory interests and passions a great party capable ofcommon and effective action. You sow fear broadcast, and it is terrormore than courage that produces heroes; I pray, _citoyen_, you may notone day see prodigies of terror arrayed against you!"

  The engraver Desmahis, in love that week with a light o' love of thePalais-Egalite named Flora, a brown-locked giantess, had neverthelessfound five minutes to congratulate his comrade and tell him that such anappointment was a great compliment to the fine arts.

  Elodie herself, though without knowing it she detested everythingrevolutionary and who dreaded official functions as the most dangerousof rivals, the most likely to estrange her lover's affections, thetender Elodie was impressed by the glamour attaching to a magistratecalled upon to pronounce judgm
ent in matters of life and death. Besideswhich, Evariste's promotion as a juryman was followed by other fortunateresults that filled her loving heart with satisfaction; the _citoyen_Jean Blaise made a point of calling at the studio in the Place deThionville and embraced the young juror affectionately in a burst ofmanly sympathy.

  Like all the anti-revolutionaries, he had a great respect for theauthorities established by the Republic, and ever since he had beendenounced for fraud in connection with his supplies for the army, theRevolutionary Tribunal had inspired him with a wholesome dread. He felthimself to be a person too much in the public eye and mixed up in toomany transactions to enjoy perfect security; so the _citoyen_ Gamelinstruck him as a friend worth cultivating. When all was said, one was agood citizen and on the side of justice.

  He gave the painter magistrate his hand, declaring himself his truefriend and a true patriot, a well-wisher of the arts and of liberty.Gamelin forgot his injuries and pressed the hand so generously offered.

  "_Citoyen_ Evariste Gamelin," said Jean Blaise, "I appeal to you as afriend and as a man of talent. I am going to take you to-morrow for twodays' jaunt in the country; you can do some drawing and we can enjoy atalk."

  Several times every year the print-dealer was in the habit of making atwo or three days' expedition of this sort in the company of artists whomade drawings, according to his suggestions, of landscapes and ruins. Hewas quick to see what would please the public and these little journeysalways resulted in some picturesque bits which were then finished athome and cleverly engraved; prints in red or colours were struck offfrom these, and brought in a good profit to the _citoyen_ Blaise. Fromthe same sketches he had over-doors and panels executed, which sold aswell or better than the decorative works of Hubert Robert.

  On this occasion he had invited the _citoyen_ Gamelin to accompany himto sketch buildings after nature, so much had the juror's officeincreased the painter's importance in his eyes. Two other artists wereof the party, the engraver Desmahis, who drew well, and an almostunknown man, Philippe Dubois, an excellent designer in the style ofRobert. According to custom, the _citoyenne_ Elodie with her friend the_citoyenne_ Hasard accompanied the artists. Jean Blaise, an adept atcombining pleasure with profit, had also extended an invitation to the_citoyenne_ Thevenin, an actress at the Vaudeville, who was reputed tobe on the best of terms with him.