The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic: A Tale of The French RevolutionSue, Eugène
History
The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic: A Tale of The French Revolution
Sue, Eugène
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction
Hard by the site of the Bastille, on a pile of the ruins of the
fortress, a young citizen, who by the elegance of his dress and the
careful powdering of his hair seemed to be of the upper bourgeoisie,
made the following motion:
"Gentlemen, in the present state of affairs, it would be very
unfortunate for our disgraceful and perfidious King to be brought back
to us! What can we do with him? This fugitive will come like Thersite,
shedding those fat tears of which Homer speaks. So, then, if they commit
the enormous mistake of bringing Louis XVI back to us, I propose this
motion: That the Executive be exposed three days to public ridicule.
That he be conducted by stages to the frontier, and that there the
commissioners of the Republic who shall have so far escorted him shall
solemnly present to this last of the Kings--their boots in his rear, and
send him to the devil."
This novel motion was received on the part of all who heard it with
shouts of laughter and applause. "Yes, yes! Let them plant their boots
in the royal rear!" they echoed.
Such, in short, was the spirit of Paris on the 21st of June, 1791. The
bulk of the bourgeoisie, thunder-struck at the absconding of its King,
was resolved, in case the commissioners despatched by the Assembly were
unable to overtake Louis XVI and bring him back, to shelter itself
behind the protectorate offered to Lafayette, if they should fail to
induce the Duke of Orleans to accept the constitutional royalty. The
people on the contrary, were rejoiced to be rid of the King, and looked
forward to a Republic.
That evening we attended the Jacobin Club, where a great audience was
packed.
O, sons of Joel! I know not how to depict for you the emotions of
patriotism, mingled with respect, with which we, the contemporaries of
the great days of the Revolution, entered this ancient hall of the
Convent of the Jacobins in St. Honore Street, an immense hall, with
walls of stone blackened and crumbled with age, lighted only by a few
tapers placed on a heavy table, behind which sat the president and
secretaries of the club.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account