BARÈRE
erty and France!" are heard on all sides; it is rather the touching and animated spectacle of a civic festival than the terrible moment of shipwreck.
For a moment they must have deliberated on their fate. But no, citizens, they deliberate no longer. They see the English, and they see their country; they prefer to founder rather than to dishonor her by surrender; they do not waver; their last wishes are for the Republic and liberty. They disappear.[1]
Do not pity the Frenchmen who composed the crew of the Vengeur; do not pity them—they have died for their country; let us honor their fate and celebrate their virtues. A Pantheon rears itself in the midst of the central community of the Republic. This monument of national gratitude is visible from all the frontiers—let it be visible also from the midst of the ocean.
Until now we have conferred no honors upon the heroes of the sea; those of the land alone have obtained our homage. Why is it not pro-
- ↑ Renaudin, the captain of the Vengeur, reported as follows: "Soon disappeared both the ship and the luckless victims she carried. In the midst of the horror with which this heartrending picture inspired us, we could not deny ourselves a sentiment of mingled grief and admiration. We heard, as we pulled away, some of our comrades still framing prayers for their country. The last cries of these unfortunates were those of 'Vive la Republique'. They died uttering them. Several men came up, some on planks, others on masts, and still others on pieces of cordage. They were saved by boats, and taken aboard the English ships."
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