Part 8
"Tame words, you may think, as I recite them to you now, in times of peace; but then they were burning words that caused men's blood to boil.
"'To the Hotel de Ville!' the Belleville workmen echoed, and the mob became organic, and we marched.
"Imagine that march! Beginning as a small procession, it grew into a mighty mob, with red flags flying and a brass band playing; and at the head of it, Fifine and I walked, arm-in-arm. She was afraid, but she was curious; her curiosity was stronger than her fears. Ah, she was a true woman, was Fifine!
"'Oh! it is wonderful,' she kept repeating. 'I suppose it is wrong; but it is wonderful, all the same.'
"And no one laughed to see her. For those were sentimental days, when every revolutionist rejoiced to have a woman associated with him in his enterprise. It was as though some master of the ceremonies had said--
"'Your partners, gentlemen! Take your partners for the Carmagnole.'
"So we swayed on, in ever-swelling numbers, until the Hotel de Ville was reached. A crowd was already besieging its doors and swarming up its stairs. It seemed, for the moment, as though I--I who had instigated this revolution--should be unable to get access to the building. But I called in a commanding tone--
"'Room there! Room for a lady! Room for Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski!'
"They fell back, as far as it was possible, and cleared a space for me. With Fifine still upon my arm, I jostled my way into the famous Hall of the Mayors. It took time, but at last we got there. Let me try and draw the picture for you.
"A large, long room, with portraits of celebrated citizens of Paris hanging on its walls. At one end of the room a large semi-circular table with the Mayors of Paris seated at it; the President in the midst of them, pale and indignant. The rest of the room packed with a crowd of revolutionists, women as well as men, all talking loudly at once, and a few _sergents de ville_ among them, disarmed and overmastered, but unable to escape. And, struggling against the tumult, the rumour gradually spread itself from mouth to mouth--
"'The Breton Mobiles! They are coming to the rescue of the Mayors.' One saw the point of that. At all events, I saw it, even if the others did not. The Breton Mobiles understood no word of French--understood nothing but their own uncouth Celtic tongue. It would be useless to harangue them on the sacred right of insurrection and appeal to them to fraternise with people. They would sweep on, with fixed bayonets, driving the Parisians before them, blind, deaf, implacable as Destiny itself. For once in my life I perceived failure in front of me, and I felt that I owed Fifine an apology.
"'Dear angel,' I said to her, 'this is not so brilliant a revolution as I could wish, but it shall have its dramatic climax, all the same. Observe!'
"Then I continued to elbow my way to the front, exclaiming--
"'Room there! Room for a lady! Room for Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"The crowd parted as before, and I found myself close to the table of the Mayors, with the pale face of the President immediately in front of me. I pulled the rat out of my pocket and tossed it to him, saying--
"'Thanks to your incapacity, the people of Paris are eating rats. In the name of the Republic, I call upon you to eat a rat yourself.'
"The people who heard me cheered, but the Mayor of Paris tried to fling the rat back into my face. I caught it in my right hand and tendered it to him again with dignity.
"'Be reasonable,' I said. 'It is a present from Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski. As those English say, you must put the gift-horse in your mouth. In the name of the Republic, I call upon you to eat the rat before us all, and to pretend that you enjoy it.'
"A tremendous cheer broke from the assembled revolutionists. They shook their fists in his face and roared--
"'Let him eat the rat! Let him eat the rat!'
"He ate it, and we cheered him. Perhaps he was hungry, and needed it, for, owing to the disturbances, he had been a long time without refreshment; and though, to do him justice, he made little pretence of appetite, one of the women--a good, thrifty soul--could not resist exclaiming--
"'What a waste of a good rat! Why do you throw it away on him, when the people of Paris are hungry?'
"That, however, was a question which, in spite of its importance, I had no time to answer. At last the Mobiles were coming--the Breton Mobiles, with whom it was impossible for the Revolutionists to fraternise, because they did not know their language. There was no purpose to be served by staying any longer, the more especially as I had a lady in my charge.
"'Dear angel,' I whispered to Fifine, 'there is no more revolution to be seen to-day. I will make haste and take you home.'
"It was more easily said than done, but I was not a man to be deterred by obstacles. I shouted as before--
"'Room there! Room for a lady! Room for Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski!'
"And room was made. I myself helped to make it, by pushing vigorously with my strong arms. As the Bretons were entering by one door, Fifine and I were issuing by another.
"It was all over--for the time. Many arrests were made; but, in the confusion, Fifine and I escaped arrest, and it was not until the next day that I knew that my behaviour had been remarked by any public functionary. Then, however, I had a passage of arms with the Pere Dubois.
"'Rascal!' he said. 'I saw you.'
"'How now? What do you mean, Pere Dubois?' I asked.
"'I was in the Hotel de Ville, disarmed and helpless. But I saw you, and now I go to denounce you to the Government.'
"I looked him straight and fearlessly in the eyes.
"'Remember your pact with me, Pere Dubois,' I said.
"'My pact?' he repeated.
"'The pact we swore, like the Homeric heroes, that, even in a revolution, we would spare each other. This time, as the revolution has failed, it is I who am the gainer by it. Presently, when the revolution is successful, it will be your turn to profit.'
"His eyes fell before my gaze as he replied--
"'If it were not for Fifine's sake, I would not do it.'
"To which I answered--
"'If it were not for Fifine's sake, I would not ask you.'
"'You think, then,' he continued scornfully, 'that the day will come when it will be in your power to serve me?'
"'I am quite sure of it,' I answered, 'and when it comes, you may rely upon me. Let us shake hands.'
"So we shook hands, and an armed truce was restored between us; and the days rolled by, until the last great day came when I was called upon to fulfil my obligations.
"Most of the events of those days belong to history. You know how the Prussians at last starved Paris into surrender. You know how we Communists seized the reins of Government in the month of March. You know how Paris was besieged a second time, and how the barricades sprang up, and how there were bloody battles in the streets. I have nothing new to tell you of these things. I have only to tell you of the service which I, at the last, rendered to the father of Fifine.
"Fifine herself had been sent to visit friends in the country. Safe-conducts being hard to get, it had been necessary to lower her in a basket over the ramparts after nightfall. I well remember my last talk with her before, with no more luggage than she could carry on her arm, she disappeared into the darkness.
"'Sweetheart,' she said, 'I thought that revolutions were wonderful, but now I only find them terrible.'
"'Sweetheart,' I answered, quoting the proverb, 'how shall we make an omelette without breaking eggs?'
"That was too deep for her. She did not even ask whether the omelette was worth the broken eggs, but came to the point without either metaphor or simile.
"'Dearest,' she pleaded, 'I saw you begin the revolution. Can't you promise, for my sake, that you will stop it?'
"I shook my head sadly. It was hard for me, as you can judge, to confess that she had asked me a thing which it was beyond my power to do for her.
"'Dear angel,' I answered, 'the revolution is irresistible as the rising tide. A man may have the power to start it, but no man has the power to stay it.'
"'But my father!' she pleaded. 'Tell me! The revolutionists have no love for the police?'
"I was obliged to own, however regretfully, that they had not. For what have policemen ever done, that revolutionists should love them?
"'But, dear angel,' I added, 'one may make exceptions, if only for the sake of proving rules. I wield influence, as you have seen, and I will use it. They shall not hurt one hair upon the Pere Dubois's head.'
"Then we kissed each other and said good-bye. Fifine disappeared, lowered over the ramparts by a sentinel; and it was only two days afterwards that the Versailles soldiers entered Paris, and the fighting in the streets began. I do not describe it to you. I do not boast. One brave man behind a barricade, I take it, is very like another. The tide of battle rolled us back from street to street. The traitors slunk away and hid themselves. The day came when we were only a handful of men, hemmed in by an army. Driven from my lodging in Montmartre, I found a garret to sleep in in Belleville. I was there, snatching the few hours' rest which I had earned, when a child found me, and thrust a note, hastily scrawled in pencil, into my hand.
"It was from the Pere Dubois. How he had found the means of sending it I do not know; but this is what he said--
"'I am a prisoner of the Commune, locked up with forty other _sergents de ville_ at La Roquette. Your Communists are murdering their prisoners. For the love of God remember your promise to me before it is too late!'
"My mind was made up instantly. Until then I had supposed that a prison was the safest place in Paris in which a _sergents de ville_ could find himself; but since this was not so, I knew how to act.
"Springing from my truckle-bed, upon which I lay only half undressed, I put on my frock-coat and my silk hat, and knotted my red sash round my waist. Then I hurried down seven flights of stairs and almost ran into the arms of our leader, Citizen Ferre.
"'Well, Ferre, how goes it now?' I asked him.
"'Badly,' he answered. 'It is all over with us. The Versaillais press us hard. We have only just time to kill the prisoners.'
"At first I did not take him seriously.
"'Is that the way to raise the tone of revolutions?'
"He answered grimly--
"'Perfectly. We have dealt with the Archbishop; we have dealt with the _gendarmes_. If we make haste, we shall just have time to deal with the _sergents de ville_.'
"His brutal words horrified me, but I temporised. Time was precious, and I would waste none of it in wrangling. If it had only been the life of an ordinary hostage--an archbishop, for example--that was at stake, I do not say; but the life at issue was the life of the father of Fifine. Therefore, as I have said, I temporised.
"'You are right, Citizen Ferre,' I replied. 'We must indeed be quick. Let us see which of us can be the quicker. I will race you to the prison of La Roquette.'
"'Good,' he replied, and we both began to run with all our speed. Picture us; for the picture must indeed have been a strange one. The enemy surrounded us, and the crack of rifles and the screech of _mitrailleuses_ sounded from the barricades on every side. The rival batteries on the Buttes Chaumont and the Buttes Montmartre hurled their shells all over Paris. Red flames and black clouds of smoke arose from the Tuileries, from La Villette, from the Hotel de Ville, from blazing buildings in every quarter of the city. Dead bodies of men and horses lay here and there upon the pavements. Mattresses were piled up at the windows to serve as a screen against the bullets. And, in the midst of this, Citizen Ferre and I--he in his soldier's uniform, and I in my frock-coat and silk hat--raced each other to the prison of La Roquette. I was fleet of foot in those days, and I outstripped him. Dashing through the open gate in the prison yard, I called--
"'Where are the prisoners of the Commune? Where are the _sergents de ville_?'
"There was no need to ask the question. I could see the heads of several of them at the windows of the cells. So I continued--
"'I have the order for them to be shot. Let me go up to them and I will tell them to come down.'
"The words were saluted by a bloodthirsty cheer. It occurred to no one to dispute my authority or ask a question. The key was handed to me and I went up to the second storey and entered the door of the long corridor in which their cells were situated.
"'Gentlemen,' I began. 'I am Jean Antoine----'
"Before I could say more, a dozen strong arms had gripped me and thrown me on the ground, and my wrists were tied fast with a handcuff improvised from a piece of string.
"'A hostage! We also have a hostage,' they cried in an exultant chorus.
"Then, just as I was fearing more rough usage, I heard the voice of Pere Dubois.
"'Be gentle with him. He is a friend of mine. Hear what he has to say.'
"So the policeman who was seated on my chest got up again, and I was able to proceed--
"'Gentlemen,' I gasped. 'Citizen Ferre is on his way here to have you shot. I raced him here that I might warn you. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"They looked inquiringly at me and at each other, and in the meantime there came what looked suspiciously like proof that I was lying. Ferre had, at last, arrived, and a fresh messenger came to the entrance of the corridor; though, with greater caution than I had shown, he only spoke through the keyhole.
"'The order has come that all the prisoners of the Commune are to be released. Descend at once, and you can go free.'
"Some of them flashed a look of triumph on me, seeming to expect that I would blush for shame. But I did not blush. I sprang up and stood with my back to the door, and retorted hotly--
"'Idiots! Are you taken in, then, by a simple trick like that? It is a lie to get you down into the courtyard, and shoot you the more easily.'
"This gave them pause.
"'There's reason in that,' they said. 'No doubt the hostage knows the nature of the Communists. But what to do?'
"I was impatient.
"'What to do?' I shouted. 'Do you want a revolutionist to tell you what to do? Barricade yourselves, idiots. Barricade yourselves, and stand siege till the Versaillais come.'
"Their good sense prevailed; they jumped at the suggestion.
"'It is an idea; let us barricade ourselves. Untie the hostage's hands, that he may help.'
"It was done, and I, who had shown the people how to build so many barricades in the streets, now taught these forty-two policemen to build a barricade in the corridor of the prison of La Roquette. We made it by taking the mattresses from the beds in the cells, and laying them one upon another carefully and symmetrically, as one builds a wall with bricks. The barrier was so high that no one could climb over it; so thick that no bullet could pass through it; so solid that it could only be pulled down, piece by piece, by unmolested labourers; and scarcely had we finished it before we found the need of it. We heard the voice of Citizen Ferre himself, no longer promising safe-conduct or immunity.
"'Since you won't come out of it by yourselves, we'll have to fetch you out. Charge, my lads, charge, and we'll treat them as we did the _gendarmes_ in the Rue Haxo.'
"Hurling themselves against our woollen wall, they tried to push it before them by sheer weight. It did not yield an inch. Was it not built by a revolutionary leader? And were there not forty-two _sergents de ville_ supporting it with their weight upon the other side?
"'Pull it down, bit by bit, from the top, then,' Ferre shouted; and we heard a noise as of a man being hoisted on to another's shoulders, and, for an instant, had a glimpse of a villainously ugly face between the barrier and the ceiling.
"But only for an instant. Pere Dubois--he also hoisted on to a neighbour's shoulders--hurled at the man a piece of crockery intended for a very different purpose. It smote him full upon the jaw, knocking teeth down his throat. Swearing a terrible oath, he disappeared, and no one took his place. Carried away by the joy of battle, I shouted to the Communist, who had so lately been my friend and ally--
"'Citizen Ferre! Is this the way you raise the tone of revolutions?'
"'Pig! We are not beaten yet,' my old friend answered; and, as we heard him retreating down the staircase, we wondered what fresh devilry he had in his mind.
"Presently we heard a fresh noise above our heads. Somebody was breaking through the ceiling. Armed though we were, after a fashion, with cudgels and lances, which we had made by breaking up the woodwork of the beds, we knew that we could not hold out long against an assault from that place of vantage. There seemed nothing to be done save to sell our lives as dearly as we could. But, just as we had made up our minds to this, we heard a voice that reassured us.
"'Hush! Do not be afraid! We are your fellow-prisoners.' And the head which revealed itself through the broken planks--the head at which Pere Dubois was preparing to hurl a fresh piece of crockery--proved to be the head of one of the parish priests of Belleville, whom the Communists had locked up as their hostages. The _sergents de ville_ greeted him with shouts of welcome.
"'Listen!' said the good old man. 'We have barricaded ourselves, and shall fight for our lives if need be. But, in the meantime, as your lives also are in danger, we would strengthen you with our prayers and with our blessing. Kneel, my brothers, kneel.'
"We knelt. It was a strange ceremony--such a ceremony as has never been, perhaps, in the world, before or since. There was no confession. The time was precious and too short for that. But, as we fell upon our knees and bowed our heads, the holy man solemnly pronounced absolution and chanted benediction. Even I--Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski, of whom priests in a general way do not approve--took absolution and benediction with the rest. Then the cry was raised--
"'Look out! They are returning!'
"We went to our post again, wondering what fresh device our enemies had hit upon. It was not long before we knew. They had released the convicts--the thieves and murderers who had been in prison long before the Commune made special prisoners of its own--and had enlisted them as willing allies against their natural enemies, the _sergents de ville_. We heard them fraternising in the yard.
"'Long live the Communists!' cried the one.
"'Long live the convicts!' replied the others.
"And then, once more, we heard the brutal voice of Citizen Ferre--
"'Now, pigs! Your hour is come. Since you won't come out any other way, we're going to burn you out.'
"In another instant they had poured petroleum over our mattress barricade and set light to it. It burnt slowly, for wool, packed close, is but a poor combustible, and there was no draught to coax the flames. The whole corridor, however, was filled with a suffocating stench. We coughed and choked, though we had burst every window open. It was only a question of time. Our barricade must ultimately yield to this attack.
"'Water! Oh, for water!' was the cry that went up on every hand. We had no water save the filthy stuff in which the prisoners had washed, over and over again, since their cells had last been cleaned. So far as we could, we soaked the mattresses with these slops. They added to the stench, but hardly helped to quench the fire. With luck we might hold out for half an hour. Longer we could not hope to hold.
"The _sergents de ville_ were losing heart and energy. They had thrown themselves on the floor, because the smoke was less there, and lay about the passage like so many dying men. And Pere Dubois whispered to me--
"'Oh, think of something! For Fifine's sake, think of something!'
"An inspiration came to me. I ran to the window, braving the risk of rifle-bullets, and put my head out of it, and shouted with all my might--
"'The Versaillais! The Versaillais! Hold out! Hold out! I see the Versaillais coming!'
"The effect was marvellous. The _sergents de ville_ leapt to their feet again. The convicts scurried down the staircase, tumbling over each other in their haste. They streamed out into the courtyard and became a frightened mob. Their terror was contagious, and every man sought to save his skin. They peeped cautiously through every open door, and when they saw the coast clear made a run for it. They fetched ladders out of unexpected places and scaled the prison walls with them. Citizen Ferre himself attempted to swarm up a water-pipe.
"And there were no Versaillais coming. I had invented them because I saw that they were necessary to save the situation. They did not actually come until more than two hours afterwards; though, in the meantime, we saw nothing of my old friends, Citizen Ferre and his companions.
"At last, however, the little men with the red trousers came marching into the courtyard, and I said--
"'Let me go down and explain. The Colonel will be surprised to see me.'
"Well might he be surprised, even though he failed to recognise me. My frock-coat was singed and torn; my silk hat was battered, and the nap on it was ruffled; my face was as black as a negro's from the smoke. I must, indeed, have looked a pitiable object as I issued from the door, exclaiming--
"'Welcome, M. le Colonel. I am Jean Antoine----'
"A bullet splashed against the wall beside me, and I withdrew. Tearing off my red sash, and borrowing a helmet and a tunic from one of the _sergents de ville_, I reappeared and resumed my friendly greeting.
"'Welcome, M. le Colonel. Herewith I restore to you forty-two policemen whom my old friend Ferre would have shot. I have raised the tone of revolution. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"I bowed profoundly, and this time no rifle-bullets interrupted my discourse.
"The Colonel merely said--
"'Whoever you are, you'll remain under arrest while the truth of your story is inquired into.'
"'That, M. le Colonel,' I said, 'is only reasonable. I am sorry that I have no sword to surrender to you. My only weapon has been a piece of crockery. If you wish that it should be formally handed to you, I will go and fetch it.'
"He did not wish it, but proceeded to try me by drum-head court-martial on the spot. With what result you can conjecture. A prisoner who has forty-two policemen vying with each other to give evidence in his favour has little to fear even from an improvised military tribunal.
"In consideration of my services to the police I was dismissed, within two minutes, without a stain upon my character, and even thanked for what I had done to raise the tone of revolution.
"To think that, after that, I should have lived to be chased by policemen, as I was yesterday, through the kitchen and offices, out of the back door! Fifine, my angel Fifine! what would you have said if you had lived to hear of it?"
THE SECRET SOCIETY.
There is no more mysterious, and no more misrepresented society than the Camorra. I never understood its nature or its objects until I heard Stromboli's story. He went to Naples and discovered the Camorra. He investigated it and found out exactly what manner of society it was. But let him tell the story in his own words:--
"I had no sooner come to Naples," he said, "than the Camorra forced itself upon my notice. Even as I landed from the steamer, I observed the boatman who had brought ashore my modest luggage surreptitiously slipping a small coin into the hand of a stalwart bystander, gaudily attired in the costume that one associates with brigandage, who had all the air of accepting it, not as an alms, but his due. My watchful curiosity was at once excited.