[English Story] An Affair of State

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 cafés 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 in 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."