Episode 112: What Do We Fight For? (1)
Episode 112: What Do We Fight For? (1)
Central-southern France, Autun.
“Alright, so this pays back what I owed you last time, yeah?”
“Pays back my ass. At least until the bump on my head heals, you’re paying up, bastard.”
“Wow, seriously? You’re ruthless.”
“Because I got hit for no reason by a customer thanks to your bullshit. Of course.”
After saying that to his friend, who was clicking his tongue as if Suasson were the ruthless one, Suasson took a bite of the simple meal his friend handed him and nodded.
The bump from getting smacked on the crown of his head with a cane was still sticking up, but thanks to that he had gotten a silver coin from the customer, and he could occasionally mooch lunch from his friend now, so it was not exactly bad.
No—calling it “not bad” did not even cover it. Compared to a few years ago, when things were so desperate that even eating one meal a day was hard and his stomach often twisted from hunger, it was practically like the world had flipped upside down.
Look at this. He had taken not one or two extra copies today, but more than ten, and most of them had already vanished without a trace.
If he walked out to Autun’s square in the morning with both hands full of papers, his hands would always be empty long before the hour and minute hands of the clock in the middle of the square overlapped on the right.
For Suasson, who had been selling papers and magazines since he could blow his own nose, the fact that he could now live with some room to breathe felt unfamiliar instead.
Maybe that was why. The fuller his money pouch at his waist became, clinking with a jingle, the more uneasy a part of his heart grew—as if this daily life could break at any moment.
“Hey. You’re getting fed and you still look like you swallowed shit. What’s with that face?”
“……Must be nice, living without a single serious thought in your head.”
“Tsk. There you go again, getting serious all by yourself. What was it… something some Dutch guy said. About an apple tree…”
“Even if the world ends, I’ll plant an apple tree?”
“Y-yeah. That.”
He had picked up some random quote off the street, at least.
“That guy Spinoza can say that because he’s a rich Jew. He’d at least be slicing steak to his heart’s content right before the world ended.”
“Oh. Is that so?”
“Straight talk: him dying and us dying aren’t the same thing, idiot. If we drop dead on the roadside, other than the carriage drivers who bring us magazines, nobody would even know we died.”
“Why are you talking that harsh? It’s not like living’s hard these days. Why are you sulking like that?”
His friend blew his nose loudly, then opened a newspaper he still had not sold and let his eyes run over the lines.
“……You cannot even read.”
“I’m pretending. How’s that—looks good, right? Don’t I look like some court clerk?”
“Bullshit. If horse shit smells a little nicer, does it turn into a fig?”
“Geez. You’re this pessimistic, but in front of customers you sure know how to flap your gums.”
Even if you have goals, you have to have realistic goals. How is a newspaper boy supposed to look like a court clerk?
“Anyway. Here—try it once.”
“Try what.”
“Try acting educated.”
“Tsk. There. Satisfied?”
“Whoa. Mr. Suasson. Do you work at the Autun court? Or are you a university student?”
“Crazy bastard.”
In the end, Suasson snorted and chuckled, folding the newspaper and tucking it away again.
Just then, a man in a suit walking past approached Suasson and spoke.
“W-wait, is that a newspaper or a magazine? Hurry! Give me one, hurry!”
The gentleman, visibly excited, kept reaching out his hand at Suasson.
“Y-you need to pay first before I give it to you, sir.”
“Here! Take it—count it and see if it’s right. I’ll read this while you do.”
“Ah, yes.”
Did the deputies in Versailles get into another brawl or something? For some reason, there were a lot of adults walking around today, keyed up like that.
Of course, compared to politics and everything else, a single coin mattered more to Suasson, so it did not hit him that hard.
Suasson quickly made change from the man’s gold coin into silver.
“Here, your change… Sir? Sir!”
“Huh…”
“Sir!”
“Ah, ah? Oh, right. Thanks. Then sell lots!”
The gentleman rolled the newspaper into a tube, tucked it under his arm, and hurried off.
“Feels like there are more spaced-out customers than usual today, Suasson.”
“Yeah. Something happening?”
While the two boys whispered to each other, someone came trudging out from the city hall in the distance and stopped in the middle of the square.
A man who looked like a civil servant caught his breath for a moment, then put a cone-shaped horn to his mouth and shouted.
“Attention, attention! Everyone, please pay attention!”
The housewives buying strawberries at the fruit stand and the court clerks who had come out for lunch—everyone in the square turned their gaze in one direction.
The civil servant wet his lips once, then raised the horn again.
“Pay attention. Attention.
May 1, 1791.
A message from the National Assembly at Versailles and from Paris.
We will deliver an important message from the revolutionary government.
To the people of France—truly free and just, and worthy of respect.
Yesterday, April 30, at 4 p.m.,
the Kingdom of Prussia and the Russian Empire issued a declaration of war against our National Assembly, the government of the people, as well as the executive and the judiciary.
The National Guard estimates that the Germans’ army will soon cross the French border.
The war of the French people has begun—a war of resistance against invaders who serve their own safety and a stale feudal system.
If they win, we will be stripped of the rights we have only just regained as human beings, and we will return to the time before July 14, 1789.
People, as one of your governing officials, I earnestly beg you.
Rise up in righteous fury and stand against the invaders.
But do not fight for the government. Do not fight for the state. Do not fight for a king, or for any one person.
The great cause for which the legislature, executive, and judiciary in Versailles and Paris have resolved to oppose those invaders is you—the people.
Fight not for someone else, but to protect yourselves.
Fight to protect the Rights of Man, human rights.
That is our great cause.
A cause those invaders do not possess.
A cause for which the whole world will gladly nod its head.
I, Guillaume de Toulon, Finance Minister, writing these words now, will also gladly fight beside you for that cause.
From the heart of Paris to the cathedral of Reims, from the cathedral of Reims to the Meuse River at Verdun, from the Meuse River at Verdun to the mountain range of Argonne, I will gladly march at your side.
Our cause is right, the enemy will be defeated, and victory will be ours.
May God’s grace be with the esteemed people of France.
April 30, 1791, 11 p.m.
Guillaume de Toulon, Finance Minister of the French Revolutionary Kingdom.”
May 2, 1791.
National Guard Temporary Headquarters, Reims.
“Attention! Salute to the Commander!”
“““Loyalty!”””
“Good. Men. Regardless of rank, if any of you have thoughts, speak them without holding back.”
Marquis de Lafayette unrolled the map and spread it wide so everyone could see clearly.
As his aide, Major Nicolas Davout, brought over markers and set them one by one across the map, before long the whole map was covered in pieces.
“Commander, the enemy will probably come through Sedan into Meuse–Argonne.”
“To defeat them, we should engage on the plains around Verdun, where we can fully exploit infantry—France’s strength.”
“How about drawing them as far as Reims, then encircling and annihilating them, Commander?”
“Isn’t Prussia’s strength fluid maneuver warfare? If we draw them into the mountains, our army might gain an advantage.”
No matter how many opinions flew back and forth, Marquis de Lafayette only tapped the table lightly before opening his mouth.
“Your forecasting is fine, but the enemy will not come through Sedan.”
“Prussian infantry training is the best in Europe. It seems you have not properly studied the lessons of Rossbach and Leuthen.”
“If we draw them to Reims, are you suggesting we grant them the right to plunder one-fifth of French territory? Rejected.”
“Prussia’s strength is maneuver warfare, yes, but mountain jägers are also one of their strengths. If we go into the mountains, our forces will be wiped out. Rejected.”
Each proposal offered by the fledgling officers in their early twenties was dismantled by Marquis de Lafayette.
“Next opinion—anyone?”
“……”
“Finance Minister. What do you think?”
“You mean me? I came here because of supply distribution.”
“Still, speak once. Anything is fine.”
“Even if you say that, it has been a long time since I left the military.”
“But you were, nominally, an artillery second lieutenant. Go on.”
Marquis de Lafayette said that to me—the one who had left the Finance Minister’s work to Director of Taxation Marquis de Condorcet and come here.
“……If I were the Prussian army, I would go for speed and try to decide it in a short war. Then would they not simply punch straight through—from the border to Paris in a straight line?”
Instead of a pointer, I used the tobacco pipe I had and pushed one Prussian piece placed at the border in a straight line toward Paris.
Even in the twenty-first century, with helicopters hauling supplies and airborne troops loaded onto massive transport aircraft and inserted behind enemy lines, logistics are critically important.
But now—when there are not even automobiles or trains—an army marching on campaign would surely starve unless it forced a quick decision.
When I first studied at the military academy, do you know how stunned I was to be told to replenish consumed supplies by looting civilian homes? To think robbing civilians to fill your belly was formal doctrine. War in this era, seriously…
“Mm. That is likely. Well said, Finance Minister.”
Marquis de Lafayette nodded, satisfied.
“Next. Any other officer?”
“I have one, Commander.”
“Ah, Colonel Bonaparte. Speak.”
Colonel Napoleon Bonaparte, commander of the Volunteer Training Regiment, stepped forward, pulled out a personal baton from his coat, and placed it on the map.
“First, we yield Verdun. Then if we encircle from Saint-Mihiel and Argonne and stab in at once, we can wipe them out completely at a village called Valmy or Kouchance.”
Napoleon moved the pieces one by one with his baton, snapping them into position in the empty space between Verdun and Reims.
“……If the enemy is cavalry, Colonel, can you deploy within that time? Intelligence says there is an elite cavalry unit at the border led by a man named Blücher.”
“What you say is correct, Commander.”
However—
Napoleon added one more line, then nudged a tricolor piece forward with his baton, blocking the Prussian piece.
“But it becomes possible if the National Guard at Nancy grabs the Prussian army by the trouser leg and refuses to let go.”
“……Can five thousand face fifty thousand?”
“Not ‘face.’ Buy time. And not just ‘possible’—they can buy time with sheer grit and stubbornness.”
“Why?”
“Because Nancy’s regional commander is Brigadier General Charles-François Dumouriez, of course.”
Napoleon said that, putting away the baton.
Kingdom of France, Nancy.
National Guard Regional Headquarters.
“……Fuck. Fuck!!”
“G-general, please watch your language—”
“Shut up! Everyone out!”
“Yes, yes!”
Under the authority of the general, the commander’s office was emptied in an instant.
“You Prussian bastard dogs! Why the hell are you suddenly charging in and pulling this shit?!”
Hero of the French people—Brigadier General Charles-François Dumouriez shouted as he flipped the desk.
Would the counterrevolutionary Prussian army leave even one revolutionary alive?
No. Even if they spared everyone else, it was obvious they would still move to execute Dumouriez the traitor without exception.
No matter what. No matter what, Prussia had to be stopped—by any means.
“Hey—you lot who went out, all of you come back in. Execute!”
“““Yes, yes!”””
At the general’s command, the officers outside rushed back in again.
“What are you all doing?! Take every soldier you have and get outside—start opening the battlefield! Execute!”
“B-but we still have not received any budget or supplies from the government, General!”
“I will pay for the materials out of my own pocket, so shut up and get outside!!”
“““Yes! Commander!”””