The Red Republic. A romance of the Commune

Front matter

" Lo ! I too am come, chanting the chant of battles ! " A ROMANCE OF THE COMMUNE IY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS Author of " The King in Yellow" G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON 27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET -4 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND £bt Vinuhnbocltcr Jltcss 189s Copyright, 1895 BY 0. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Entered at Stationers'1 Halt, London Ube IKnicfccrbocfcev press, Hew IRocbcll-.IH. y. TO MY MOTHER. CONTENTS. Chapter. page. I. — The Caf£ Cardinal .... 3 II. — Philip Acts as Escort ... 18 III.— An Historical Interlude ... 45 IV. — "The Eighteenth of March" . . 60 V. — A Cowardly Flight .... 92 VI. — The Drums of the 265TH . . 107 VII. — The Impasse de la Mort . . .116 VIII. — Hemmed In . . . . .164 IX. — Jeanne de Brassac . . . .176 X. — In A Garden 193 XI. — The Commune Moves .... 209 XII. — The Shadow of Terror . . . 222 XIII. — A Dangerous Quest .... 243 XIV. — Raoul Rigault 260 XV. — The Awakening 268 XVI. — A New Recruit 273 XVII. — With the Red Flag . . . .291 XVIII. — Tcherka Has an Idea . . 322 XIX. — Sarre Pays a Debt . . . -337 XX.— The White Road 347 XXI.— Commissions for Two .... 354 Vll CONTENTS. 2 PAGE.

CHAPTER. XXII.

— Within the Walls . . . -372 XXIII. — A Voice from the Clouds . . 384 XXIV. — Weser Bids Tribert Good-Night . 404 XXV. — Husband and Wife .... 416 XXVI. — The Vivandiere of the 66th . 427 XXVII. — "The Prison of the Condemned" . 436 XXVIII.— The Last Barricade . . -447 XXIX. — The Return of the Blackbird . ACKNOWLEDGMENT. THE author's acknowledgments are due to MM. Philibert Audebrand, le Comte d'Herisson, Jules Clere, Ferdinand Dugue, and Charles Virmaitre, for their valuable volumes ; also to " A ' Proscrit ' of the Commune," for his " Truth about the Commune." The author has also made use of information vol unteered by his revolutionary friends of Belleville, La Villette, and the Faubourgs Montmartre and St. Antoine ; but acknowledgements are especially due to certain good comrades of the XIXe Arron dissement.

Chapter I. The Cafe' Cardinal

" A LL Englishmen are pigs ! " observed a young J~ Y. man who stood swaying in the doorway of the Cafe Cardinal. Nobody replied to this criticism. The cafe was full. The young man advanced unsteadily to the centre of the long room and looked about for a seat. His lustre less eyes travelled from table to table until they became fixed on a group of people in the embra sure of one of the windows which opened on the rue des Ecoles. Toward these people he shuffled, but when he laid a heavy hand on the shoulder of one, a woman, she cried out and shrank away. A man sitting beside her started up angrily, but sat down again when he saw who it was, and resumed his jaunty air. " It 's Isidore Weser," he chuckled. Room was made at the marble-topped table. " Sit down, Isidore," said the jaunty man. " Your legs seem very, very tired."

But Weser still stood swaying before the table, Rigault looked at him. " Americans are not favorites in Paris," he said brusquely. " That," replied Landes, " is of no consequence to Americans." " Who says Americans are not favorites in Paris ? " demanded Faustine. " They are favorites with me." Philip glanced at her kindly, but his eyes returned directly to Rigault. Rigault drew a paper from his pocket, and held it in his hand. " Monsieur Landes," he began, " I have some thing to say to you." " Whatever you say, Rigault," Philip answered, "don't forget that in the siege just over we Ameri cans served with the ambulance corps and the American Minister was the only foreign representa tive in Paris who stuck to his post." " Ah ! Yes ! The American Minister," said Rigault. " You may as well know what we Parisians think about your Minister " " I don't care a d — n what you Parisians think about our Minister," retorted Landes, " but I want to know what you mean, you Raoul Rigault, and you, Andre Sarre, both of you students of the Latin Quarter, by insulting a fellow student, a member of the Students Association ?"

" Monsieur is right," said a tall young artillery officer at a neighboring table. " What 's that ? " cried Rigault. The officer rose leisurely, buttoned his astrakhan trimmed dolman, and, picking up his sabre, snapped the clasp to the short silver chain which dangled from his sword belt. Then walking over to Landes, THE CAFE CARDINAL. 7 he bowed, saying, " I, Monsieur, admire Americans," and with a pleasant salute to Faustine, turned his back on the rest and walked out. Raoul Rigault's eyes glittered through his glasses. " En voila un qu'il faut saigner," he muttered. Disgusted with the whole scene, Philip turned to go also. Rigault sprang up and barred the way ; his baby mouth under the thick, crisp beard looked moist and venomous. He began, speaking slowly at first, but before he had uttered half a dozen sentences he was snarling, his cheeks purple and swollen, his eyes growing paler and harder until they had lost every vestige of color, and were nothing but a malignant sparkle.

"You have been expelled from the Students As sociation, Monsieur Landes," he began, " and for this reason — you are an American. We want no Americans" — louder — "and no Prussians," — still louder, — " do you understand me?" Here he burst into a roar. Sarre caught his arm. " Give him the letter, Raoul," he said ; " don't make a scene." Raoul thrust the paper he had been holding at Philip, who took it mechanically, but Rigault, shaking off Sarre, went on violently : " Your American Minister has taught us who are our enemies ! — your Minister Washburn " " Are you crazy ?" said Landes, astonished at this outburst. " Rigault is right," growled Tribert. " Am I crazy ! " mimicked Rigault. " Do you want proofs ? Did your Minister Washburn receive the American papers during the siege ? And did he erase with ink everything in them that could be of service to France before he would let them be seen by us ?

" " He could not do otherwise," said Philip, gravely; "a Foreign Minister could not distribute to the garrison of a besieged town news which he was able to receive only through the courtesy of the besiegers." To cut short the violent and foolish scene, he would have turned away once more, but Rigault drowned his last words in a torrent of half-articulate blasphemy, out of which came distinctly the words, " American Minister, American students — paid Prussian spies!" Without a sound, Landes sprang at him. Tribert jerked Rigault back against the wall, and shoved the table in front of him, while Monsieur Cardinal, alarmed for the crockery in his cafe, threw his arms around the American's waist, and shouted for the police. Landes struggled, white with passion, over turning tables and chairs, but Monsieur Cardinal held fast, while Sarre and Pagot each draped himself over an arm.

" Raoul Rigault," he said, between his gasps, " you lie ! Let me go, Monsieur Cardinal ! I will not touch him here, — let go, Andre Sarre, or I '11 break your neck. On my honor I won't touch him, Monsieur Cardinal, — not here, to-night, — let me go, I tell you ! " "On your honor, Monsieur Landes?" whined Cardinal. " I said it," panted Landes. They released him, and the tumult in the cafe died away as he took a step forward and faced Rigault. " I '11 break my cane over your head, when next we meet, you mongrel liar ! Keep out of my way, Sarre ! — and you too, whatever your name is," turning on Tribert, who scowled back in reply. " As for this canaille you call Weser, and this Greek here, who seems so ready with that thin knife he 's just slipped back into his pocket — pfui ! " He made a gesture of disgust, and walked out into the street, trembling with excitement.

He crossed the Boulevard St. Michel, and enter ing Ferdinand's ordered dinner, but when it was brought he felt too upset to eat, and drawing out the paper he had received from Rigault, he looked at it. It bore the seal of the French Students Asso ciation and was addressed : Monsieur Philip Landes, Artiste Peintre, Ecole des Beaux Arts, En Ville. The black-eyed waitress who had served him for three years felt that something indeed serious must be the matter, when a young man who has just been through a siege of six months, living on government demi-rations of horse meat and straw bread, reads a letter before looking at the juicy Chateaubriand which a black-eyed waitress sets before him. "Are you ill, Monsieur Landes?" she inquired. " No, — oh, no," he replied, smiling. " I '11 eat presently.

Has Monsieur Ellice come in yet?" Ellice entered as he spoke, with Ynes Falaise, and Landes rose to welcome them. " Bon soir, Mile. Ynes. Hello, Jack ! Sit down here, I 'm just beginning." Ynes seated herself with a graceful shake of her fluffy skirts, and the two young men dropped into chairs on either side of her. " Well," said Ellice, after the dinner was ordered, " any news ? " " Nothing of interest," replied Landes, thinking of the scene just past in the Cafe Cardinal. " What do the evening papers say ? " " Whatever they say, they don't say it in Eng lish," observed Mile. Falaise, whom that language bored. The young men laughed and begged her pardon, then chatted on in French. " They still keep talking about that mysterious Central Committee," said Ellice. " What is the Cen tral Committee, Ynes ?

" " Politics!" cried the girl. "What a pity, before dinner ! " " Ynes is of Lewis Carroll's mind," said Ellice. " Politics to-morrow, politics yesterday, but never politics to-day." " Then give me a glass of that Chambertin," she said evasively, " and talk your politics by and by with Monsieur Philip." " I have heard of the Comite Central every day since the surrender," persisted Landes. " What is it, anyway ? Who compose it ? " " Do you know," interrupted Ynes, " that the Prussians stole all the cuckoo clocks in the Champs Elysees quarter ? " " Ah, bah ! " laughed Ellice. " Every one knows they behaved themselves very well while they were in Paris." " But they stole the cuckoo clocks," persisted Mile. Falaise, — "the barbarians ! " " Barbarians as much as you like," said Ellice, " and their native tongue " " And their French !

I suppose they 'd call it the Gomide Zendrale," mimicked Mile. Falaise, making her mouth very round. " Jack," said Landes, " I '11 tell you all I know about the Central Committee. Do you remember last month, while the peace was being arranged, a placard was stuck all over the walls, — a big, square, red placard, blood-red ? " "Yes, I remember it." " It 's a wonder you do, considering the thousands of placards of every shape and color that we used to see pasted up every day during the siege." " Oh, I remember this one. It said the National Guard had elected the ' undersigned ' as a Committee to intervene in the situation." " Yes, and they declared they would intervene in the name of three hundred thousand citizens. It is n't a small detail, three hundred thousand citizens. And the ' undersigned ' were sixteen names abso lutely unknown, unless you except that fellow Assi, who came into prominence during the Creuzot troubles.

Well, that was the beginning of the Comite Central. Nobody paid the slightest atten tion to it then. So far as I know, no one does now, and yet it seems to be there, all the same. What is it, what does it want, Ynes ? " " What the Comite Central wants," said Ynes, impaling and eating a single pea, " is the Republic. That 's what I want also." " It 's what all France wants," said Ellice. " Except Monsieur Thiers," said the girl, scorn fully. " Well, yes, I 'd like to know what Monsieur Thiers wants too, while I 'm asking for information," yawned Ellice. " What he wants," flashed out Ynes, " is to insult Paris. First he holds the National Assembly at Bordeaux, and then he carries it to Versailles! Imbecile ! " " He said he did n't want to go there," said Landes. "Versailles is the city of kings," he said.

" Oh, pour cela, Versailles is well enough, said Ynes. " It 's only a suburb of Paris now, thanks to the railroad. But Monsieur Thiers blows hot and cold with the same mouth, that is my opinion," she added, with a gay smile, and held out her glass to touch Philip's. They pledged the Republic, and, at her command, drank confusion to all Germans, "and may their stolen cuckoo clocks go wrong forever," said Ellice. Ynes kissed her hand to him, and made him a compliment on his esprit, but Landes harked back to the first theme. "This Central Committee bothers me," he said. "What common end holds them together? Are they afraid Thiers will betray the Republic ? Are they— is it the Commune they are after?" " The Commune," murmured Ellice. " That would mean Thermidor ! " Their eyes met, they looked at Ynes, who was sipping an ice.

Her pretty teeth showed in a careless smile, a fluffy mass of silk and lace framed her pointed foot. She glanced aside, caught them looking at her, and became injured and expostulatory. " Mais, mon Dieu ! What is this ? Politics, politics, always politics ! And that is how you make yourselves agreeable to ladies, you Americans ! " " Would Mademoiselle perhaps find this more amusing?" smiled Philip, handing her the letter which he had kept beside his plate. " Read it too, Jack," he added. Ellice leaned over with a "pardon, Ynes," and glanced at the paper which she unfolded. When he saw its contents he started back and stared at Lan des. " What in thunder ! " he exclaimed, " where did you get that? " " From Raoul Rigault, just now in the Cafe Car dinal. He was there with Andre Sarre and a miscel laneous collection of scum that I never saw before.

He made a nasty scene and then handed me this. He said it was because I was an American " " Ah, bah ! " said Ynes, angrily. " Well, did you say anything to him ? " asked Jack. " I started to make a few suitable remarks, but had to desist because of the shrieks of old Cardinal." " Raoul Rigault knows all about the Comite Cen tral," observed Ynes, in a low voice. " Oh, he does. I thought as much." After a short silence Landes resumed. " Do you remember, Jack, how they celebrated the twenty-fourth of February in the Place de la Bastile, last month? " " I did n't see it but I heard about it." " What would you say was the prominent feature in that celebration?" " If you like to call a prominent feature what was the only feature," mocked Ynes, recovering her gaiety, " I should say La Garde Nationale."

" Well, I watched the whole business," Philip went on, " from six in the morning till six in the evening the battalions of the National Guard passed without intermission, bands playing, bugles and drums, and officers at their head. They carried wreaths of im mortelles, tied with crape and red ribbons, and placed them around the statue of Liberty in the Place de la Bastile. During the next five days a hundred and fifty battalions came and did the same thing. Each one did exactly as all the rest. The delegates, preceded by drummers and buglers or by bands, with their officers and flags, entered through the gate opposite the rue Saint-Antoine and passed around the column inside the railing. The commis saires wore a red cocarde. When they halted, these fellows in red took the wreaths and flags, each in scribed with the number of the company and battalion, and placed them before the pedestal.

Then the commandant uncovered, the drums beat the long roll, the bands played a patriotic air, and everybody shouted, ' Vive la Republique ! ' Usually an offi cer made a speech, which always began in the same way, something like this : ' The people of Paris, honoring the memory of those illustrious victims who died in defending Liberty, mean to defend the Republic to the death.' " " They kept up their parades too," said Ellice, " every day, and toward the end of the month they grew rather — rather menacing, I thought " " More patriotic, you mean," interposed Mademoi selle Ynes. " Well," said Landes, " I heard an officer of the 238th battalion say : ' Monopolists and tyrants think the people under age, but sometimes the people wake up and claim their majority unexpectedly. We speak,' he said, ' of '93, of 1830 and '48 ; who knows if our children will not add to these, 1871 ?' I thought it was only blow at the time but now I 'm not so sure."

" After all," said Ellice, " this National Guard is a pretty poor organization, seems to me. They only grew war-like after the Prussians had left Paris. I 'd back one regiment of the Line against the whole two hundred and fifty battalions of the National Guard." " They certainly have a fondness for blowing bugles and it is very tiresome," laughed Ynes, " but I think they are good republicans." " Blowing bugles and parading," repeated Ellice, " they parade every day and all day." " Yes," said Landes drily, " and the other day they paraded their cannon out of sight." " Out of sight ? " cried the girl. " Oh, pas du tout ! They are quite easy to be seen winking and blinking in the sun up on Montmartre. You must take me up there to-morrow, Jack, every one is going." " Now, see how these Parisians play with danger," said Landes.

" Do you think it amusing that an organized militia seizes two hundred and fifty odd pieces of cannon from the park in the Cours-la-Reine and drags them up to the heights of Montmartre and trains them on the city ? " " It was to save them from being handed over to the Germans," said Ynes ; " Thiers would have given them up to Bismarck." " Oh, never ! " protested Landes. " Pardon," murmured Ynes, obstinately. Landes smiled and waived the question. "Anyway, Ynes," said Jack Ellice, "you must confess it 's making pretty free with government property." " Pardon," said Mademoiselle Falaise again and set her pretty teeth. " The cannon belong to the National Guard. Every soldier in each battalion gave something toward paying for them, so did the families and friends of the soldiers. I gave ten francs, all I had at the time.

They were built during the siege for the National Guard and paid for as I have just told you. They don't belong to the government at all ! " and Mademoiselle tossed her head and looked very decided. " All the same, Thiers ought to have shown spirit enough to prevent their removal and placing where they are. It 's a menace pure and simple," said Ellice. " Who gave the order for their removal ? " inquired Landes, picking up a pear and smiling at Ynes' im patience of their seriousness. "The Central Committee," she answered. " Precisely ! And the Parisians say that the Cen tral Committee does not exist ! And Montmartre bristles with artillery which could lay Paris in ashes, and you think it a good joke. The illustrated papers make caricatures about it. If Thiers is n't a fool, he '11 send a Line regiment up there to fetch them within the next twenty-four hours."

" Monsieur Thiers is a nobody," announced Ma damoiselle Falaise. " Monsieur Ellice, are you going to take me to the theatre?" They all rose. Landes walked with the others to the door, and they stood a moment chatting on the Boulevard St. Michel, then crying: "Au revoir! A demain done ! " they separated, Landes turning up toward the Luxembourg Gardens, and Ellice, escort ing Madamoiselle Falaise to the Folies-St-Antoine, where she had a speaking part in the new farce, " Paris Upside Down," and was receiving fifty francs a week and some applause.

Chapter II. Philip Acts As Escort

AFTER taking leave of Jack and Ynes, Philip walked slowly up the St. Michel and sat down on a Boulevard bench. Mechanically he took off his hat to enjoy the spring breeze. "The first soft air," he thought to himself, "that has entered the sad city, since her gates closed in autumn and the state of siege was proclaimed." This started several trains of thought at once, which he followed, not because he wanted to, but because they persisted, getting themselves more or less mixed up and intertwisted as trains of thought will ; the scene in Cafe Cardinal, the talk with Jack and Ynes, and now this first touch of returning spring, reminding him of light-hearted springtimes that came and went before the troubles betran. It was the 16th day of March, 1S71. On the 20th of January preceding, General Trochu, Governor of Paris, had lost his last battle under the walls, and had published the following despatch : iS NOTICE !

IT IS NOW URGENTLY NECESSARY TO SEND A FLAG OF TRUCE TO SEVRES, DEMANDING AN ARMISTICE OF TWO DAYS, FOR THE REMOVAL OF THE WOUNDED, AND THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. WAGONS, STOUTLY BUILT AND WELL EQUIPPED, ARE WANTED, ALSO THE LARGEST POSSIBLE NUMBER OF STRETCHERS. LOSE NO TIME, BUT WORK ! Landes went out with the American ambulance. Before he returned, Paris had surrendered. Poor General Trochu ! In the beginning he had cried, " The Governor of Paris will not surrender ! " but hunger, bitter cold, and a dissatisfied public told heavily on the resolution of the Governor of Paris. Sortie after sortie failed to break the ring of German bayonets. The people clamored for another and still another effort. He sent out thousands of men to face their fate. They went gladly. Few of them ever returned. Yet even when the shattered remnants of their troops crept back through the gates of the fortifications, the people cried, " The Governor of Paris must not surrender !

" On the 2 ist of January, the people read in placards on the walls that the Government of National Defence had decided to separate the offices of Com mander-in-chief of the Army and President of the Government, that General Vinoy was appointed Commandant of the Army of Paris, that the title and functions of Governor of Paris were suppressed, and that General Trochu was to remain President of the Government. On the ist day of March, as the morning bells sounded eight o'clock, the first German of the advanced guard passed the fortifications of Neuilly. At half-past ten, the German army being massed on the meadow of Longchamps, the Crown Prince passed along the cheering lines. At ten minutes to eleven, the cheers rolled out in a deafening " Hoch dem Kbnig ! " and King William galloped across the meadow to the windmill, where his son was waiting to receive him.

Then all the splendid German bands crashed out with the hymn " Heil dir in Sieges kranz! " The echo of that triumphant music was still sound ing in Paris over the Seine, among the shell-torn houses of the left bank, and in the bitter hearts of the people. Landes heard it, now, as he sat musing, his eyes bent on his cane, with which he was absently beating a tattoo on the curb. "Monsieur Philip," whispered a voice behind him. He swung around and jumped up. " Faustine ! " he exclaimed " What 's the matter ? What are you crying for?" At first she would do nothing but lean against a tree and sob quietly. After a while he persuaded her to sit down, and then lighting a cigarette, he waited for her to speak when she should be ready. He knew she would not have come to him if she had not had something to say.

The Place de Medici was not well lighted. The petroleum lamps, which had hung from the gilded iron railing of the Luxembourg Gardens during the siege were now removed, and the gas burned dimly, at long intervals, on some of the gas posts. The light from the Cafe d'lena on the opposite side of the Boulevard St. Michel illumined the fountain in the Place de Medici, but hardly penetrated to the Gardens. Under the black arcades of the Odeon, a lantern or two glimmered feebly. Few people passed ; no one paid the slightest attention to them. A woman's sobs could scarcely attract attention in a city which for six months had heard little else. Landes smoked and waited, still beating a gentle tattoo on the curbstone. After a while, Faustine stopped crying and sat up, drying her eyes, and arranging her veil.

Then he leaned toward her with a pleasant, " anything I can do for you, Faustine? " Nothing," she smiled, but her lip trembled ; " nothing, unless you can bring back old times, Mon sieur Philip." " Oh, they '11 come back all right," he said cheer fully, not in the least believing it. " It will be just the same when the chestnuts are in blossom — our own set, you know, when we can get together again, you, Ynes, Jack Ellice, Georges Carriere " " Killed at Champigny ! " " I forgot," said Landes, soberly. " Well, there are Alfred d'Aunay, and Armand Riviere " " Armand ! Oh, Monsieur Philip, he was sabred by the Prussians ! " " I never heard that," Landes said, and then there was a long silence. " Everyone — everything is changed, is changing, she began again. " Friends are no longer friends, comrades turn on one, people one would not have spoken to in the old days give orders now, and — strike !

" Her voice was very low and full of bitter resentment. Landes looked up sharply, as if he would ask a question, but changed his mind and waited. " No," she went on, " I shall never be happy again. Do you remember how gay we were here in the Quarter, Francine and Wyeth Vernon, Mariette and Georges Carriere ; — then you, Jack Ellice, Ynes Falaise, and I, who were nothing but good comrades and oh! so happy!" She laid a gloved hand on his arm. " My poor Philip, don't you understand? That is all over. Can you make this the same city it was then ? Can you make us the same people we were then ? Can you bring Georges back from the field of Champigny, — and the smile to Mariette's eyes? If one dragged the bottom of the Loiret, there would be Armand with a sabre cut across his face. And when we go down the rue de Bac, we pass the place where Francine was killed by a shell, — you saw her lying in the street with her pretty gray jacket all ripped and splashed ; — Wyeth Vernon was walking so near her, that his sleeve was drenched with her blood.

He used to blush when she called him stupid, and follow her about everywhere. He does n't know what to do with himself now. You may see him any day on a bench in the Gardens there. I tell you," she went on excitedly, " the shadow of the Prussian eagle wraps the city still, and his talons are in my heart ! " " Oh ! Oh ! Come, Faustine, not so tragic," said Landes, speaking very gently. " And by the way, I don't wonder you think the decent people are all dead, if you take up with the sort I saw you with to-day." " Yes ! Why do I lower myself to become the comrade of such men as Sarre and Rigault, 7, Faus tine Courtois ! " " That 's what I want to know," he replied sharply. " Because they are Revolutionists," she cried recklessly. " Because they plot " "A la Grande Duchesse," put in Landes. She checked herself and asked quietly, " my poor Philip, do you think it is a farce ?

" " I think that anything Sarre and Rigault manage will be a farce fit for the Palais Royal. But that is not the point at present. Low as they are, their friends are lower. What is a girl like you doing in the company of a creature like Tribert ?" Faustine hung her head. " I thought I could endure him because he works for the Republic, and I hate — mon Dieu, how I hate the Empire — the Germans and Thiers. I had noth ing else to give, so I gave myself." " That was a mistake." Landes spoke very dryly. His tone seemed to sting Faustine beyond endurance. " A mistake," she cried, " and what will you call it when I tell you that to-day he struck me ? " Philip was silent. " Faustine," he said at length, " this is dropping pretty low," She began to sob again, violently. " When did the creature strike you, and why ?