The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael Sabatini
whisper.
The stave was instantly raised from the horizontal, and he passed and went up the steps in the wake of the usher. At the top, on the threshold of the chamber, he paused, and stayed his guide.
“I will wait here,” he announced. “Bring the president to me.”
“Your name, monsieur?”
Almost had Andre–Louis answered him when he remembered Le Chapelier’s warning of the danger with which his mission was fraught, and Le Chapelier’s parting admonition to conceal his identity.
“My name is unknown to him; it matters nothing; I am the mouthpiece of a people, no more. Go.”
The usher went, and in the shadow of that lofty, pillared portico Andre–Louis waited, his eyes straying out ever and anon to survey that spread of upturned faces immediately below him.
Soon the president came, others following, crowding out into the portico, jostling one another in their eagerness to hear the news.
“You are a messenger from Rennes?”
“I am the delegate sent by the Literary Chamber of that city to inform you here in Nantes of what is taking place.”
“Your name?”
Andre–Louis paused. “The less we mention names perhaps the better.”
The president’s eyes grew big with gravity. He was a corpulent, florid man, purse-proud, and self-sufficient.
He hesitated a moment. Then —“Come into the Chamber,” said he.
“By your leave, monsieur, I will deliver my message from here — from these steps.”
“From here?” The great merchant frowned.
“My message is for the people of Nantes, and from here I can speak at once to the greatest number of Nantais of all ranks, and it is my desire — and the desire of those whom I represent — that as great a number as possible should hear my message at first hand.”
“Tell me, sir, is it true that the King has dissolved the States?”
Andre–Louis looked at him. He smiled apologetically, and waved a hand towards the crowd, which by now was straining for a glimpse of this slim young man who had brought forth the president and more than half the numbers of the Chamber, guessing already, with that curious instinct of crowds, that he was the awaited bearer of tidings.
“Summon the gentlemen of your Chamber, monsieur,” said he, “and you shall hear all.”
“So be it.”
A word, and forth they came to crowd upon the steps, but leaving clear the topmost step and a half-moon space in the middle.
To the spot so indicated, Andre–Louis now advanced very deliberately. He took his stand there, dominating the entire assembly. He removed his hat, and launched the opening bombshell of that address which is historic, marking as it does one of the great stages of France’s progress towards revolution.
“People of this great city of Nantes, I have come to summon you to arms!”
In the amazed and rather scared silence that followed he surveyed them for a moment before resuming.
“I am a delegate of the people of Rennes, charged to announce to you what is taking place, and to invite you in this dreadful hour of our country’s peril to rise and march to her defence.”
“Name! Your name!” a voice shouted, and instantly the cry was taken up by others, until the multitude rang with the question.
He could not answer that excited mob as he had answered the president. It was necessary to compromise, and he did so, happily. “My name,” said he, “is Omnes Omnibus — all for all. Let that suffice you now. I am a herald, a mouthpiece, a voice; no more. I come to announce to you that since the privileged orders, assembled for the States of Brittany in Rennes, resisted your will — our will — despite the King’s plain hint to them, His Majesty has dissolved the States.”
There was a burst of delirious applause. Men laughed and shouted, and cries of “Vive le Roi!” rolled forth like thunder. Andre–Louis waited, and gradually the preternatural gravity of his countenance came to be observed, and to beget the suspicion that there might be more to follow. Gradually silence was restored, and at last Andre Louis was able to proceed.
“You rejoice too soon. Unfortunately, the nobles, in their insolent arrogance, have elected to ignore the royal dissolution, and in despite of it persist in sitting and in conducting matters as seems good to them.”
A silence of utter dismay greeted that disconcerting epilogue to the announcement that had been so rapturously received. Andre–Louis continued after a moment’s pause:
“So that these men who were already rebels against the people, rebels, against justice and equity, rebels against humanity itself, are now also rebels against their King. Sooner than yield an inch of the unconscionable privileges by which too long already they have flourished, to the misery of a whole nation, they will make a mock of royal authority, hold up the King himself to contempt. They are determined to prove that there is no real sovereignty in France but the sovereignty of their own parasitic faineantise.”
There was a faint splutter of applause, but the majority of the audience remained silent, waiting.
“This is no new thing. Always has it been the same. No minister in the last ten years, who, seeing the needs and perils of the State, counselled the measures that we now demand as the only means of arresting our motherland in its ever-quickening progress to the abyss, but found himself as a consequence cast out of office by the influence which Privilege brought to bear against him. Twice already has M. Necker been called to the ministry, to be twice dismissed when his insistent counsels of reform threatened the privileges of clergy and nobility. For the third time now has he been called to office, and at last it seems we are to have States General in spite of Privilege. But what the privileged orders can no longer prevent, they are determined to stultify. Since it is now a settled thing that these States General are to meet, at least the nobles and the clergy will see to it — unless we take measures to prevent them — by packing the Third Estate with their own creatures, and denying it all effective representation, that they convert the States General into an instrument of their own will for the perpetuation of the abuses by which they live. To achieve this end they will stop at nothing. They have flouted the authority of the King, and they are silencing by assassination those who raise their voices to condemn them. Yesterday in Rennes two young men who addressed the people as I am addressing you were done to death in the streets by assassins at the instigation of the nobility. Their blood cries out for vengeance.”
Beginning in a sullen mutter, the indignation that moved his hearers swelled up to express itself in a roar of anger.
“Citizens of Nantes, the motherland is in peril. Let us march to her defence. Let us proclaim it to the world that we recognize that the measures to liberate the Third Estate from the slavery in which for centuries it has groaned find only obstacles in those orders whose phrenetic egotism sees in the tears and suffering of the unfortunate an odious tribute which they would pass on to their generations still unborn. Realizing from the barbarity of the means employed by our enemies to perpetuate our oppression that we have everything to fear from the aristocracy they would set up as a constitutional principle for the governing of France, let us declare ourselves at once enfranchised from it.
“The establishment of liberty and equality should be the aim of every citizen member of the Third Estate; and to this end we should stand indivisibly united, especially the young and vigorous, especially those who have had the good fortune to be born late enough to be able to gather for themselves the precious fruits of the philosophy of this eighteenth century.”
Acclamations broke out unstintedly now. He had caught them in the snare of his oratory. And he pressed his advantage instantly.
“Let us all swear,” he cried in a great voice, “to raise up in the name of humanity and of liberty a rampart against