France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Froment had preached faith, but the faith for the most part was down
in the street. There, I have no doubt, were many who believed, and
were ready to rush on death, or slay without pity. And there may have
been one or two of these with us. But in the main, the men who looked
down with me on Nîmes that morning were hardy adventurers, or local
followers of Froment, or officers whose regiments had dismissed them,
or--but these were few--gentlemen, like St. Alais. All brave men, and
some heated with wine; but not Froment only had heard of Favras
hanged, of De Launay massacred, of Provost Flesselles shot in cold
blood! Others beside him could make a guess at the kind of vengeance
this strange new creature, La Nation, might take, being outraged: and
so, when the long-expected dawn appeared at last, and warmed the
eastern clouds, and leaping across the sea of mist which filled the
Rhone valley, tinged the western peaks with rosy light, and found us
watching, I saw no face among all the light fell on, that was not
serious, not one but had some haggard, wan, or careworn touch to mark
it mortal.
Save only Froment's. He, be the reason what it might, showed as the
light rose a countenance not merely resolute, but cheerful. Abandoning
the solitary habit he had maintained all night, he came forward to the
battlements overlooking the town, and talked and even jested, rallying
the faint-hearted, and taking success for granted. I have heard his
enemies say that he did this because it was his nature, because he
could not help it; because his vanity raised him, not only above the
ordinary passions of men, but above fear; because in the conceit of
acting his part to the admiration of all, he forgot that it was more
than a part, and tried all fortunes and ran all risks with as little
emotion as the actor who portrays the Cid, or takes poison in the part
of Mithridates.
But this seems to me to amount to no more than saying that he was not
only a very vain, but a very brave man. Which I admit. No one, indeed,
who saw him that morning could doubt it; or that, of a million, he was
the man best fitted to command in such an emergency; resolute,
undoubting, even gay, he reversed no orders, expressed no fears. When
the mist rolled away--a little after four--and let the smiling plain
be seen, and the city and the hills, and when from the direction of
the Rhone the first harsh jangle of bells smote the ear and stilled
the lark's song, he turned to his following with an air almost joyous.
"Come, gentlemen," he said gaily, and with head erect. "Let us be
stirring! They must not say that we lie close and fear to show
our heads abroad; or, having set others moving, are backward
ourselves--like the tonguesters and dreamers of their knavish
assembly, who, when they would take their King, set women in the front
rank to take the danger also! _Allons_, Messieurs! They brought him
from Versailles to Paris. We will escort him back! And to-day we take
the first step!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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