CHAPTER IV
The Clouds Gather
Occasionally and at considerable intervals Harry received lettersfrom his father. The latter said that there was great excitementin England over the events which had taken place in France, andthat his mother was rendered extremely anxious by the news of theattacks upon chateaux, and the state of tumult and lawlessnesswhich prevailed. They thought he had better resign his situationand return home.
Harry in his replies made light of the danger, and said that afterhaving been treated so kindly it would be most ungrateful of himto break the engagement he had made for three years, and leave hisfriends at the present moment. Indeed, he, like all around him,was filled with the excitement of the time. In spite of the almostuniversal confusion and disorder, life went on quietly and calmlyat the chateau. The establishment was greatly reduced, for few ofthe tenants paid their rents; but the absence of ceremonial broughtthe family closer together, and the marquis and his wife agreed thatthey had never spent a happier time than the spring and summer of1791.
The news of the failure of the king's attempt at flight on the20th of June was a great shock to the marquis. "A king should neverfly," he said; "above all, he should never make an abortive attemptat flight. It is lamentable that he should be so ill-advised."
At the end of September the elections to the Legislative Assembly asit was now to be called, resulted in the return of men even moreextreme and violent than those whom they succeeded.
"We must go to Paris," the marquis said one day towards the end ofOctober. "The place for a French nobleman now is beside the king."
"And that of his wife beside the queen," the marquise said quietly.
"I cannot say no," the marquis replied. "I wish you could have stayedwith the children, but they need fear no trouble here. Ernest isnearly seventeen, and may well begin, in my absence, to representme. I think we can leave the chateau without anxiety, but even wereit not so it would still be our duty to go."
"There is another thing I want to speak to you about before westart," the marquise said. "Jeanne is no longer a child, althoughwe still regard her as one; she is fifteen, and she is graverand more earnest than most girls of her age. It seems ridiculousto think of such a thing, but it is clear that she has made thisEnglish lad her hero. Do you not think it better that he shouldgo? It would be unfortunate in the extreme that she should get tohave any serious feelings for him."
"I have noticed it too, Julie," the marquis said, "and have smiledto myself to see how the girl listens gravely to all he says, butI am not disposed to send him away. In the first place, he has donea great deal of good to the boys, more even than I had hoped for.Ernest now thinks and speaks for himself, his ideas are broader, hisviews wider. He was fitted before for the regime that has passed;he is rapidly becoming fit to take his part in that which is tocome.
"In the next place, my dear, you must remember the times havechanged. Mademoiselle Jeanne de St. Caux, daughter of a peer andnoble of France, was infinitely removed from the son of an Englishdoctor; but we seem to be approaching the end of all things;and although so far the law for the abolition of titles has beendisregarded here, you must prepare yourself to find that in Parisyou will be no longer addressed by your title, and I shall beMonsieur de St. Caux; or may be they will object both to the deand the St., and I shall find myself plain Monsieur Caux."
"Oh, Edouard!" the marquise exclaimed aghast.
"I am quite in earnest, my dear, I can assure you. You will sayshe is still the heiress of a portion of our estates, but who cansay how long the estates will remain after the title is gone? Justas the gentlemen of the pave object to titles because they havenone themselves, so being penniless they will object to property,and for aught I know may decree a general division of lands andgoods."
"Impossible, Edouard!"
"Not at all impossible, Julie. The beggars are on horseback, andthey intend to ride. Last week I called in from my bankers, allthe cash at my disposal, about five thousand louis, and to-morrowdu Tillet is going to start for Holland. He will hand it over toa banker there to forward to Dr. Sandwith, to whom I have writtenasking him to undertake the charge. If you will take my advice youwill forward at the same time all your jewelry. If things go wrongit will keep us in our old age and furnish a dot for our daughters.
"The jewels of the St. Caux have always been considered as equalto those of any family in France, and are certainly worth half amillion francs even to sell. Keep a few small trinkets, and sendall the others away. But I have wandered from my subject. Underthese circumstances I think it as well that we should not interferein the matter you speak of. Personally one could not wish for abetter husband for one of our daughters than this young Englishmanwould make.
"His father is a gentleman, and so is he, and in such times asare coming I should be glad to know that one of my girls had sucha protector as he would make her; but this is, as you said at first,almost ridiculous. He is two years older than she is, but in somerespects she is the elder; he regards her as a pretty child, andall his thoughts are given to his studies and his sports.
"He has something of the English barbarian left in him, and isabsolutely indifferent to Jeanne's preference. A French lad at hisage would be flattered. This English boy does not notice it, or ifhe notices it regards it as an exhibition of gratitude, which hecould well dispense with, for having saved her life.
"You can leave them with a tranquil heart, my dear. I will answerfor it that never in his inmost heart has the idea of his evermaking love to Jeanne occurred to this English lad. Lastly I shouldbe sorry for him to leave, because his good spirits and cheerfulnessare invaluable at present. Ernest is apt to be gloomy and depressed,and cheerfulness is at a premium in France at present. Moreover,should there be any difficulty or danger while we are absent I trustvery much to that lad's good sense and courage. That incident ofthe dog showed how quick he is to plan and how prompt to carry hisplans into effect. It may seem absurd when there are several ofour staunch and tried friends here to rely in any way on a lad,but I do so. Not, of course, as before our faithful friends, butas one whose aid is not to be despised."
Thus it happened that on the same day that the marquis started forParis, M. du Tillet set out from the chateau taking with him sometrunks and packages which appeared but of little value and werenot likely to attract attention, but which contained a considerablesum of money and the famous St. Caux jewels.
Life at the chateau was dull after the departure of its heads. Theyhad few visitors now; the most frequent among them being Victorde Gisons. The estates of the duke, his father, adjoined those ofthe marquis, and between him and Marie a marriage had long beforebeen arranged by their parents. For once the inclination of theyoung people agreed with the wishes of the elders, and they werewarmly attached to each other. No formal betrothal, however, hadas yet taken place, the troubles of the times having caused itspostponement, although formerly it had been understood that in thepresent autumn the marriage should be celebrated.
The young count had at the assembly of the States General beena prominent liberal, and had been one of those who had taken hisseat with the third estate and had voted for the abolition of thespecial privileges of the nobility, but the violence of the Assemblyhad alarmed and disgusted him, and in the winter he had left Parisand returned to his father's estates.
Ernest and Harry studied with the abbe, and fenced and rode as usualwith M. du Tillet after his return from Holland. The ever-darkeningcloud weighed upon their spirits, and yet life at the chateau waspleasant. The absence of their parents and the general feeling ofanxiety knit the rest of the family closer together. Much of theceremonial observance which had, on his first arrival, surprisedand amused Harry was now laid aside. Marie, happy in the visitsof her lover and at the prospect of her approaching marriage, didher best to make the house cheerful. Harry, who had not much likedher at first, now found her most pleasant and agreeable, and theyounger girls walked in the grounds with their brothers and chattedwhen
they were gathered in the evening just as Harry's sisters haddone at home. Jeanne was, if the group broke up, generally Harry'scompanion. Ever since the affair of the mad dog she had treatedhim as her special friend, adopting all his opinions and fallingin with any suggestion he might make with a readiness which causedErnest one day to say laughingly to Harry:
"One would think, Harry that you were Jeanne's elder brother, notI. She listens to you with a good deal more deference than she doesto me."
The winter came and went. From time to time letters arrived fromParis, but the news was always in the same strain. Things were goingworse and worse, the king was little more than a prisoner in thehands of the people of Paris. The violence of the Assembly wasever on the increase, the mob of Paris were the real masters ofthe situation, the greater part of the nobility had fled, and anywho appeared in the streets were liable to insult.
The feeling in the provinces kept pace with that in Paris. Committeeswere formed in every town and village and virtually superseded theconstituted authorities. Numbers of chateaux were burned, and thepeasants almost universally refused any longer to pay the dues totheir seigneurs. But at present none dreamt of personal danger.The nobles who emigrated did so because they found the situationintolerable, and hoped that an army would be shortly raised andset in motion by foreign powers to put down the movement whichconstituted a danger to kings, nobles, and property all over Europe.But as yet there was nothing to foreshadow the terrible eventswhich were to take place, or to indicate that a movement, whichbegan in the just demand of an oppressed people for justice andfair treatment, would end in that people becoming a bloodthirstyrabble, eager to destroy all who were above them in birth, education,or intellect.
Therefore, although the Marquis de St. Caux foresaw the possibilityof confiscation of the property and abolition of all the privilegesof the nobility, he was under no uneasiness whatever as to thesafety of his children. His instructions were precise: that if asmall party of peasants attacked the chateau, and it was evidentthat a successful resistance could be made, M. du Tillet shouldsend word down to the mayor of Dijon and ask for help, and should,with the servants of the chateau, defend it; if it was attacked bya large mob, no resistance was to be offered, but he was to abandonit at once and journey to Paris with the children. But the timewent on without disturbance. In Dijon as elsewhere a committeehad been formed and had taken into its hands the entire control ofthe management of the town. At its head was the son of the mayor,Monsieur Lebat.
"I do not understand that young fellow," M. du Tillet said one dayon his return from Dijon. "I do not like him; he is ambitious andpushing, he is the leader of the advanced party in Dijon, and isin communication with the most violent spirits in Paris, but I ambound to say that he appears most anxious to be of service to thefamily. Whenever I see him he assures me of his devotion to themarquis. To-day, Mademoiselle Marie, he prayed me to assure youthat you need feel no uneasiness, for that he held the mob in hishand, and would answer for it that no hostile movement should bemade against the chateau, and in fact I know, for I have taken theprecaution of buying the services of a man who is upon the committee,that Lebat has actually exerted himself to benefit us.
"It has several times been urged by the most violent section thatthe mob should be incited to attack the chateau, but he has eachtime successfully opposed the proposition. He has declared that whileno one is more hostile than himself to the privileges of seigneury,and while he would not only abolish the nobles as a class butconfiscate their possessions, he considers that in the case of themarquis nothing should be done until a decree to that effect ispassed by the Assembly.
"Until that time, he argues, the people should discriminate. Thechateaux of tyrants should be everywhere levelled to the ground,but it would be unworthy of the people to take measures of vengeanceagainst those who have not notably ground down those dependent uponthem, and that, as the marquis has not pushed the privilege of hisclass to the utmost, his chateau and property should be respecteduntil the Assembly pass a decree upon the subject."
"I am sure we are much indebted to this Monsieur Lebat," Mariesaid. "He was here at the hunting party and seemed a worthy youngman of his class. Of course he was out of place among us, but fora man in his position he seemed tolerable."
"Yes," Monsieur du Tillet agreed, but in a somewhat doubtful toneof voice. "So far as assurances go there is nothing to be desired,and he has, as I said, so far acted loyally up to them, andyet somehow I do not like him. It strikes me that he is playing agame, although what that game is I cannot say. At anyrate I donot trust him; he speaks smoothly but I think he has a double face,and that he is cruel and treacherous."
"That is not like you, Monsieur du Tillet," Marie laughed, "youwho generally have a good word for everyone. It seems to me thatyou are hard upon the young man, who appears to be animated byexcellent sentiments towards us."
Spring came again. M. du Tillet learned that the mob of Dijon werebecoming more and more violent, and that spies and watchmen hadbeen told off to see that none of the family attempted to fly forthe frontier. He therefore wrote to the marquis urging that itwould be better that the family should move to Paris, where theywould be in no danger. In reply he received a letter begging himto start as soon as the roads were fit for travel.
About the same time Victor de Gisons received a summons from hisfather to join him in Paris.
The messenger who brought the letter to M. du Tillet brought onealso for Marie from the marquise, saying that the heads of bothfamilies were of opinion that the marriage must be still furtherpostponed, as in the present state of affairs all private plans andinterests must be put aside in view of the dangers that surroundedthe king. Marie acquiesced in the decision, and bade her loveradieu calmly and bravely.
"They are quite right, Victor; I have felt for some time that whenFrance was on the verge of a precipice it was not the time for hernobles to be marrying. Noblesse oblige. If we were two peasantswe might marry and be happy. As it is we must wait, even though weknow that waiting may never come to an end. I have a conviction,Victor, that our days of happiness are over, and that terriblethings are about to happen."
"But nothing that can happen can separate us, Marie."
"Nothing but death, Victor," she said quietly.
"But surely, Marie, you take too gloomy a view. Death, of course,may separate all lovers; but there seems no reason that we shouldfear him now more than at other times. A few farmers-general andothers who have made themselves obnoxious to the mob have beenkilled, but what is that! There should at least be no hostilityto our order. Many of the nobles have been foremost in demandingreforms. All have cheerfully resigned their privileges. There isno longer the slightest reason for hostility against us."
"My dear Victor," Marie said quietly, "you do not ask a wild beastabout to rend his prey, what is the reason for his actions. I hopeI may be wrong; but at least, dear, we shall see each other againbefore long, and, whatever troubles may come, will share them. Mymother in her letter yesterday said that she and the marquis haddetermined that we should join them in Paris; for that although thedisorders have abated somewhat they are anxious at the thought ofour being alone here, and in the present position of things theyhave no hope of being able to leave the king. She says my fatheris very indignant at the great emigration of the nobility thatis going on. In the first place, he holds that they are desertingtheir post in the face of the enemy; and in the second place, bytheir assemblage across the frontier and their intrigues at foreigncourts against France they are causing the people to look withsuspicion upon the whole class."
"You have kept your good news till the last, Marie," Victor said."Here have we been saying good-bye, and it seems that we are goingto meet again very shortly."
"I have been bidding farewell," Marie said, "not to you, but toour dream of happiness. We shall meet soon, but I fear that willnever return."
"You are a veritable prophet of ill to-day, Marie," Victor saidwith an attempt at gaiety. "Some
day, I hope, dear, that we shallsmile together over your gloomy prognostication."
"I hope so, Victor--I pray God it may be so!"
A week later three carriages arrived from Paris to convey thefamily there; and upon the following day the whole party started;the girls, the gouvernante, the abbe, and some of the female servantsoccupying the carriages, Monsieur du Tillet, the boys, and severalof the men riding beside them as an escort.
They met with no interruption on the road, and arrived in Parison the last day of April, 1792. Harry was glad at the change. Thedoings at Paris had been the subject of conversation and thought fornearly two years, and he had caught the excitement which pervadedFrance. He was tired of the somewhat monotonous life in the country,and had for some time been secretly longing to be at the centreof interest, and to see for himself the stirring events, of whichlittle more than a feeble echo had reached them at the chateau.
The change of life was great indeed; the marquis had thrown himselfinto the thick of all that was going on, and his salon was crowdedevery evening with those of the nobility who still remained InParis. But he was regarded as by no means a man of extreme views,and many of the leaders of the party of the Gironde with whose namesHarry was familiar were also frequent visitors--Roland, Vergniaud,Lanjuinais, Brissot, Guader, Lebrun, and Condorcer.
Harry was struck with the variety of conversation that went on atthese meetings. Many of the young nobles laughed and chatted withthe ladies with as much gaiety as if the former state of thingswere continuing undisturbed; and an equal indifference to the publicstate of things was shown by many of the elders, who sat down anddevoted themselves to cards. Others gathered apart in little groupsand discussed gloomily and in low tones the events of the day;while others who were more liberal in their views gathered round thedeputies of the Gironde and joined in their talk upon the meetingsof the Assembly and the measures which were necessary to consolidatethe work of reform, and to restore peace and happiness to France.
The marquis moved from group to group, equally at home with all,chatting lightly with the courtiers, whispering gravely with theelders, or discussing with the tone of the man of the world theviews and opinions of the deputies. Victor de Gisons was constantlyat the house, and strove by his cheerfulness and gaiety to dissipatethe shade of melancholy which still hung over Marie.
Towards the end of July the Marquis de St. Caux and the littlebody of royalists who still remained faithful to the king becamemore and more anxious; the position of the royal family was nowmost precarious; most of the troops in Paris had been sent to thefrontier, and those left behind were disorganized and ready to jointhe mob. Two out of the three Swiss battalions had been sent awayand but one remained at the Tuileries. Of the National Guard onlythe battalion of Filles St. Thomas and part of the battalion ofthe Saints Pares could be trusted to defend the king. The rest wereopposed to him, and would certainly join the populace.
On the 14th of July a large number of National Guards from theprovinces had arrived in Paris; and the battalion from Marseilles,the most violent of all, had, immediately that it arrived in thecity, come into collision with one of the loyal battalions.
The royalists were wholly without organization, their sole aimbeing to defend the king should he be in danger, and if necessaryto die by his side.
On the evening before the 10th of August the tocsin was heard tosound and the drums to beat to arms. All day there had been sinisterrumours circulating, but the king had sent privately to his friendsthat the danger was not imminent and that he had no need of them;however, as soon as the alarm sounded the marquis snatched up asword and prepared to start for the palace. He embraced his wife,who was calm but very pale, and his children. Ernest asked to beallowed to go with him, but the marquis said:
"No, my son, my life is the king's; but yours at present is dueto your mother and sisters."
It was twenty-four hours before he returned. His clothes were torn,his head was bound up, and one of his arms disabled. The marquisegave a cry of delight as he entered. No one had slept since heleft, for every hour fresh rumours of fighting had arrived, andthe sound of cannon and musketry had been heard in the early partof the day.
"It is all over, wife!" he said. "We have done our best, but theking will do nothing. We cannot say we have lost the battle, forwe have never tried to win it; but it would be the same thing inthe long run."
Before hearing what had passed the marquise insisted upon her husbandtaking refreshment and having his wounds bound up and attended to.When he had finished his meal the marquis began:
"We had a good deal of difficulty in getting into the Tuileries,for the National Guard tried to prevent our passing. However, wemost of us got through; and we found that there were about a hundredassembled, almost all men of family. The Marshal de Mailly led usinto the king's apartment.
"'Sire,' he said, 'here are your faithful nobles, eager to replaceyour majesty on the throne of your ancestors.' The National Guardin the palace withdrew at once, leaving us alone with the Swiss.
"We formed in the courtyard; and the king, with his hat in his hand,walked down our ranks and those of the Swiss. He seemed withoutfear, but he did not speak a word, and did nothing to encourage us.Several of our party, in trying to make their way to the palace,had been murdered, and the mob cut off their heads and put them onpikes; and these were paraded in the streets within sight of thewindows. Roederer, the procureur-general of the department of Paris,came to the king and pressed him to leave the Tuileries.
"'There are not five minutes to lose, sire,' he said. 'There is nosafety for your majesty but in the National Assembly.'
"The queen resisted; but upon Roederer saying that an enormouscrowd with cannon were coming, and that delay would endanger thelives of the whole of the royal family, he went. But he thought ofus, and asked what was to become of us. Roederer said that, as wewere not in uniform, by leaving our swords behind us we could passthrough the crowd without being recognized. The king moved on,followed by the queen, Madam Elizabeth, and the children. The crowd,close and menacing, lined the passage, and the little processionmade their way with difficulty to the Assembly.
"We remained in the palace, and every moment the throng aroundbecame more and more numerous. The cannon they brought were turnedagainst us. The first door was burst open, the Swiss did not fire,the populace poured in and mixed with us and the soldiers. Someone fired a gun. Whether it was one of the Swiss or one of the mobI know not, but the fight began. The Swiss in good order marcheddown the staircase, drove out the mob, seized the cannon theMarseillais had brought, and turning them upon their assailantsopened fire. The mob fled in terror, and I believe that one battalionwould have conquered all the scum of Paris, had not the king, atthe sound of the first shot, sent word to the Swiss to cease firing.They obeyed, and although the mob kept firing upon them from thewindows, the great part of them marched calm, and without returninga shot, to the Assembly, where, at the order of the king, they laiddown their arms and were shut up in the church of the Feuillants.
"A portion of the Swiss had remained on guard in the Tuileries whenthe main body marched away. The instant the palace was undefendedthe mob burst in. Every Swiss was murdered, as well as many ofthe servants of the queen. The mob sacked the palace and set it onfire. When the Swiss left we had one by one made our way out by aback entrance, but most of us were recognized by the mob and wereliterally cut to pieces. I rushed into a house when assaulted,and, slamming the door behind me, made my way out by the back andso escaped them, getting off with only these two wounds; then Ihurried to a house of a friend, whom I had seen murdered before myeyes, but his servants did not know of it, and they allowed me toremain there till dark, and you see here I am."
"But what has happened at the Assembly and where is the king?" themarquise asked, after the first exclamation of horror at the talethey had heard.
"The king and his family are prisoners in the Temple," the marquissaid. "The Commune has triumphed over the Assembly and a NationalCo
nvention is to be the supreme power. The king's functions aresuspended, but as he has not ruled for the last three years thatwill make little difference. A new ministry has been formed withDanton, Lebrun, and some of the Girondists. He and his family arehanded over to the care of the Commune, and their correspondence isto be intercepted. A revolutionary tribunal has been constituted,when, I suppose, the farce of trying men whose only crime is loyaltyto the king is to be carried out.
"We must be prepared, my love, to face the worst. Escape is nowimpossible, and, indeed, so long as the king and queen are alive Iwould not quit Paris; but we must prepare for sending the childrenaway if possible."