In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy

  CHAPTER VII

  The 2d of September

  Victor de Gisons was, as usual, waiting near the door when Harryleft Louise Moulin's.

  "What is the news, Henri? Nothing suspicious, I hope? You are outsooner than usual."

  "Yes, for I have something to think of. Here have we been planningin vain for the last fortnight to hit upon some scheme for gettingour friends out of prison, and Jeanne has pointed out a way whichyou and I never thought of."

  "What is that, Henri?"

  "The simplest thing in the world, namely, that we should seize oneof the leaders of these villains and compel him to sign an orderfor their release."

  "That certainly seems possible," Victor said. "I wonder it neveroccurred to either of us. But how is it to be done?"

  "Ah, that is for us to think out! Jeanne has given us the idea, andwe should be stupid if we cannot invent the details. In the firstplace we have got to settle which of them it had better be, andin the next how it is to be managed. It must be some one whosesignature the people at the prison would be sure to obey."

  "Then," Victor said, "it must be either Danton or Robespierre."

  "Or Marat," Harry added; "I think he is as powerful as either ofthe others."

  "He is the worst of them, anyhow," Victor said. "There is somethingstraightforward about Danton. No doubt he is ambitious, but I thinkhis hatred of us all is real. He is a terrible enemy, and willcertainly stick at nothing. He is ruthless and pitiless, but I donot think he is double-faced. Robespierre is ambitious too, butI think he is really acting according to his principles, such asthey are. He would be pitiless too, but he would murder on principle.

  "He would sign unmoved the order for a hundred heads to fall if hethought their falling necessary or even useful for the course ofthe Revolution, but I do not think he would shed a drop of bloodto satisfy private enmity. They call him the 'incorruptible.' He ismore dangerous than Danton, for he has no vices. He lives simply,and they say is fond of birds and pets. I do not think we shouldmake much of either Danton or him, even if we got them in our power.

  "Danton would be like a wild beast in a snare. He would rage withfury, but I do not think that he would be intimidated into signingwhat we require, not do I think would Robespierre. Marat is adifferent creature altogether. He is simply venomous. He hates theworld, and would absolutely rejoice in slaughter. So loathsome ishe in appearance that even his colleagues shrink from him. He is avenomous reptile whom it would be a pleasure to slay, as it wouldbe to put one's heel upon a rattlesnake. Whether he is a cowardor not I do not know, but I should think so. Men of his type areseldom brave. I think if we had him in our hands we might frightenhim into doing what we want."

  "Then Marat it shall be," Harry said; "that much is settled. Tomorrowwe will find out something about his habits. Till we know aboutthat we cannot form any plan whatever. Let us meet at dinner-timeat our usual place. Then we will go outside the Assembly and waittill he comes out. Fortunately we both know him well by sight. Hewill be sure to go, surrounded, as usual, by a mob of his admirers,to the Jacobin Club. From there we can trace him to his home. Nodoubt anyone could tell us where he lives, but it would be dangerousto ask. When we have found that out we can decide upon our nextstep."

  They were, however, saved the trouble they contemplated, for theylearned from the conversation of two men among the mob, who cheeredMarat as he entered the Assembly, what they wanted to know.

  "Marat is the man for me," one of them said. "He hates the aristocracy;he would bathe in their blood. I never miss reading his articlesin the Friend of the People. His cry is always 'Blood! Blood!' Hedoes not ape the manner of the bourgeois. He does not wash his faceand put on clean linen. He is a great man, but he is as dirty asthe best of us. He still lives in his old lodgings, though he couldmove if he liked into any of the fine houses whose owners are inthe prisons. He wants no servants, but lives just as we do. ViveMarat!"

  "Where does the great citizen live?" Victor asked the men in atone of earnest entreaty. On learning the address they took theirway to the dirty and disreputable street where Marat lodged.

  "The citizen Marat lives in this street, does he not?" Victor askeda man lounging at the door of a cabaret.

  "Yes, in that house opposite. Do you want him?"

  "No; only I was curious to see the house where the friend of thepeople lives, and as I was passing the end of the street turneddown. Will you drink a glass?"

  "I am always ready for that," the man said, "but in these hardtimes one cannot do it as often as one would like."

  "That is true enough," Victor said as they took their seats ata table. "And so Marat lives over there; it's not much of a placefor a great man."

  "It is all he wants," the other said carelessly; "and he is saferhere than he would be in the richer quarters. There would be a plotagainst him, and those cursed Royalists would kill him if they hadthe chance; but he is always escorted home from the club by a bandof patriots."

  In the evening Harry and Victor returned to the street and watcheduntil Marat returned from the Jacobin Club. His escort of men withtorches and bludgeons left him at the door, but two or three wentupstairs with him, and until far in the night visitors came andwent. Then the light in the upper room was extinguished.

  "It is not such an easy affair," Victor said as they moved away;"and you see, as that man in the wine-shop told us, there is anold woman who cooks for him, and it is much more difficult to seizetwo people without an alarm being given than one."

  "That is so," Harry agreed; "but it must be done somehow. Everyday matters grow more threatening, and those bands of scoundrelsfrom Marseilles have not been brought all this way for nothing.The worst of it is, we have such a short time to act. Marat doesnot seem to be ever alone from early morning until late at night.Supposing we did somehow get the order of release from him at nightwe could not present it till the morning, and before we couldpresent it some one might arrive and discover him fastened up, andmight take the news to the prison before we could get them out."

  "Yes, that is very serious," Victor agreed. "I begin to despair,Henri."

  "We must not do that," Harry rejoined. "You see we thought itimpossible before till Jeanne gave us the idea. There must be someway out of it if we could only hit upon it. Perhaps by to-morrowmorning an idea will occur to one of us. And there is another thingto be thought of; we must procure disguises for them. It would beof no use whatever getting them out unless we could conceal themafter they are freed. It would not do for them to go to LouiseMoulin's. She has three visitors already, and the arrival of moreto stay with her would be sure to excite talk among the neighbours.The last orders are so strict about the punishment of anyone givingshelter to enemies of the republic, that people who let rooms willall be suspicious. The only plan will be to get them out of the cityat once. It will be difficult for them to make their way throughFrance on foot, for in every town and village there is the strictestlook-out kept for suspected persons. Still, that must be risked;there is no other way."

  "Yes, we must see about that to-morrow, Henri; but I do not thinkthe marquise could support a journey, for they would have to sleepin the fields. Moreover, she will probably elect to stay near herchildren until all can go together. Therefore I think that it willbe best for her to come either to you or me. We can take an additionalroom, saying that our mother is coming up from the country to keephouse for us."

  "Yes, that would be much the best plan, Victor. And now here weare close home. I hope by the time we meet in the morning one ofus may have hit upon some plan or other for getting hold of thisscoundrel."

  "I have hit upon an idea, Victor," Harry said when they met thenext morning.

  "I am glad to hear it, for though I have lain awake all night Icould think of nothing. Well, what is your idea?"

  "Well, you see, Marat often goes out in the morning alone. He isso well known and he is so much regarded by the lower class thathe has no fear of any assault being made upon him during the day.


  "My plan is that we should follow him till he gets into some streetwith few people about. Then I would rush upon him, seize him, anddraw a knife to strike, shouting, 'Die, villain!' You should bea few paces behind, and should run up and strike the knife out ofmy hand, managing at the same moment to tumble over Marat and fallwith him to the ground. That would give me time to bolt. I wouldhave a beard on, and would have my other clothes under the blouse.I would rush into the first doorway and run up stairs, pull offmy beard, blouse, and blue pantaloons, and then walk quietly down.You would, of course, rush up stairs and meet me on the way. Ishould say I had just met a fellow running up stairs, and shouldslip quietly off."

  "It would be a frightful risk, Henri, frightful!"

  "No, I think it could be managed easily enough. Then, of course,Marat would be very grateful to you, and you could either get himto visit your lodgings or could go up to his, and once you hadbeen there you could manage to outsit his last visitor at night,and then we could do as we agreed."

  "But, you know, we thought we should hardly have time in the morning,Henri!"

  "No, I have been thinking of that, and I have come to the conclusionthat our best plan would be to seize him and hold a dagger to hisheart, and threaten to kill him instantly if he did not accompanyus. Then we would go down with him into the street and walk arm inarm with him to your lodging. We could thrust a ball of wood intohis mouth so that he could not call out even if he had the courageto do so, which I don't think he would have if he were assured thatif he made the slightest sound we would kill him. Then we couldmake him sign the order and leave him fastened up there. It wouldbe better to take him to your lodgings than mine, in case my visitsto Louise Moulin should have been noticed, and when he is releasedthere will be a hue and cry after his captors."

  "The best plan will be to put a knife into his heart at once theminute you have got the order signed," Victor said savagely; "Ishould have no more hesitation in killing him than stamping on asnake."

  "No, Victor; the man is a monster, but we cannot kill him in coldblood; besides, we should do more harm than good to the cause, forthe people would consider he had died a martyr to his championshipof their rights, and would be more furious than ever against thearistocracy."

  "But his account of what he has gone through will have just thesame effect, Henri."

  "I should think it probable he would keep the story to himself.What has happened once may happen again; and besides, his cowardicein signing the release of three enemies of the people in order tosave his life would tell against him. No, I think he would keepsilence. After we have got them safe away we can return and sofar loosen his bonds that he would be able, after a time, to freehimself. Five minutes' start would be all that we should want."

  But the plan was not destined to be carried out. It was the morning ofthe 2d of September, 1792, and as they went down into the quarterwhere the magazines of old clothes were situated, in order topurchase the necessary disguises, they soon became sensible thatsomething unusual was in the air. Separating, they joined the groupsof men at the corners of the streets and tried to learn what wasgoing on, but none seemed to know for certain. All sorts of sinisterrumours were about. Word had been passed that the Jacobin bandswere to be in readiness that evening. Money had been distributed.The Marseillais had dropped hints that a blow was to be struck atthe tyrants. Everywhere there was a suppressed excitement amongthe working-classes; an air of gloom and terror among the bourgeois.

  After some time Harry and Victor came together again and comparedtheir observations. Neither had learned anything definite, but bothwere sure that something unusual was about to take place.

  "It may be that a large number of fresh arrests are about to bemade," Harry said. "There are still many deputies who withstandthe violence of the Mountain. It may be that a blow is going to bestruck against them."

  "We must hope that that is it," Victor said, "but I am terriblyuneasy."

  Harry had the same feeling, but he did his best to reassure hisfriend, and proposed that they should at once set about buyingthe disguises, and that on the following morning they should carryinto effect their plan with reference to Marat. The dresses werebought. Two suits, such as a respectable mechanic would wear onSundays or holidays, were first purchased. There was then a debateas to the disguise for the marquise; it struck them at once that itwas strange for two young workmen to be purchasing female attire,but, after some consultation, they decided upon a bonnet and longcloak, and these Victor went in and bought, gaily telling theshopkeeper that he was buying a birthday present for his old mother.

  They took the clothes up to Harry's room, agreeing that Louise couldeasily buy the rest of the garments required for the marquise assoon as she was free, but they decided to say nothing about theattempt that was about to be made until it was over, as it wouldcause an anxiety which the old woman would probably be unable toconceal from the girls.

  Victor did not accompany Harry to his room; they had never, indeed,visited each other in their apartments, meeting always some littledistance away in order that their connection should be unobserved,and that, should one be arrested, no suspicion would follow theother. As soon as he had deposited the clothes Harry sallied outagain, and on rejoining Victor they made their way down to theHotel de Ville, being too anxious to remain quiet. They could learnnothing from the crowd which was, as usual, assembled before theHotel.

  There was a general impression that something was about to happen,but none could give any definite reason for their belief. All daythey wandered about restless and anxious. They fought their wayinto the galleries of the Assembly when the doors opened, but fora time nothing new took place.

  The Assembly, in which the moderates had still a powerful voice,had protested against the assumption of authority by the council ofthe Commune sitting at the Hotel de Ville. But the Assembly lackedfirmness, the Commune every day gained in power. Already warrantsof arrest were prepared against the Girondists, the early leadersof the movement.

  Too restless to remain in the Assembly, Victor and Harry againtook their steps to the Hotel de Ville. Just as they arrived theretwenty-four persons, of whom twenty-two were priests, were broughtout from the prison of the Maine by a party of Marseillais, whoshouted, "To the Abbaye!" These ruffians pushed the prisoners into coachesstanding at the door, shouting: "You will not arrive at the prison;the people are waiting to tear you in pieces." But the people lookedon silently in sullen apathy.

  "You see them," the Marseillais shouted. "There they are. You areabout to march to Verdun. They only wait for your departure tobutcher your wives and children."

  Still the crowd did not move. The great mass of the people had noshare in the bloody deeds of the Revolution; these were the work ofa few score of violent men, backed by the refuse of the population.A few shouts were raised here and there of, "Down with the priests!"But more of the crowd joined in the shouts which Victor and Harrylustily raised of, "Shame, down with the Marseillais!" Victor wouldhave pressed forward to attack the Marseillais had not Harry heldhis arm tightly, exclaiming in his ear:

  "Restrain yourself, Victor. Think of the lives that depend uponours. The mob will not follow you. You can do nothing yourself.Come, get out of the crowd."

  So saying he dragged Victor away. It was well that they could notsee what was taking place in the coaches, or Victor's fury wouldhave been ungovernable, for several of the ruffians had drawn theirswords and were hacking furiously at their prisoners.

  "We will follow them," Harry said, when he and Victor had madetheir way out of the crowd; "but you must remember, Victor, that,come what may, you must keep cool. You would only throw away yourlife uselessly; for Marie's sake you must keep calm. Your lifebelongs to her, and you have no right to throw it away."

  "You are right, Henri," Victor said gloomily; "but how can one lookon and see men inciting others to massacre? What is going to takeplace? We must follow them."

  "I am ready to follow them," Harry said; "but you must not
gounless you are firmly resolved to restrain your feelings whatevermay happen. You can do no possible good, and will only involveyourself in the destruction of others."

  "You may trust me," the young count said; "I will be calm forMarie's sake."

  Harry had his doubts as to his friend's power of self-control, buthe was anxious to see what was taking place, and they joined thethrong that followed the coaches. But they were now in the rear,and could see nothing that was taking place before them. When thecarriages reached the Abbaye the prisoners alighted. Some of themwere at once cut down by the Marseillais, the rest fled into thehall, where one of the committees was sitting. Its members, however,did nothing to protect them, and looked on while all save two weremassacred unresistingly. Then the Marseillais came out brandishingtheir bloody weapons and shouting, "The good work has begun; downwith the priests! Down with the enemies of the people!"

  The better class of people in the crowd assembled at the Hotel deVille had not followed the procession to the Abbaye. They had beenhorror-struck at the words and actions of the Marseillais, andfelt that this was the beginning of the fulfilment of the rumoursof the last few days.

  The murder of the first prisoner was indeed the signal for everyman of thought or feeling and of heart to draw back from theRevolution. Thousands of earnest men who had at first thought thatthe hour of life and liberty commenced with the meeting of theStates-General, and who had gone heart and soul with that body inits early struggles for power, had long since shrunk back appalledat the new tyranny which had sprung into existence.

  Each act of usurpation of power by the Jacobins had alienated asection. The nobles and the clergy, many of whom had at first goneheartily with the early reformers, had shrunk back appalled whenthey saw that religion and monarchy were menaced. The bourgeoisie,who had made the Revolution, were already to a man against it; theGirondists, the leaders of the third estate, had fallen away, andover their heads the axe was already hanging. The Revolution hadno longer a friend in France, save among the lowest, the basest,and the most ignorant. And now, by the massacres of the 2d ofSeptember, the republic of France was to stand forth in the eyesof Europe as a blood-stained monster, the enemy, not of kingsonly, but of humanity in general. Thus the crowd following theMarseillais was composed almost entirely of the scum of Paris,wretches who had long been at war with society, who hated the rich,hated the priests, hated all above them--men who had sufferedso much that they had become wild beasts, who were the productsof that evil system of society which had now been overthrown. Thegreater proportion of them were in the pay of the Commune, for,two days before, all the unemployed had been enrolled as the armyof the Commune. Thus there was no repetition before the Abbaye ofthe cries of shame which had been heard in front of the Maine. Theshouts of the Marseillais were taken up and re-echoed by the mob.Savage cries, curses, and shouts for vengeance filled the air;many were armed, and knives and bludgeons, swords and pikes, werebrandished or shaken. Blood had been tasted, and all the savageinstincts were on fire.

  "This is horrible, Henri!" Victor de Gisons exclaimed. "I feel asif I were in a nightmare, not that any nightmare could compare interror to this. Look at those hideous faces--faces of men debasedby crime, sodden with drink, degraded below the level of brutes,exulting in the thought of blood, lusting for murder; and to thinkthat these creatures are the masters of France. Great Heavens! Whatcan come of it in the future? What is going to take place now?"

  "Organized massacre, I fear, Victor. What seemed incredible,impossible, is going to take place; there is to be a massacre ofthe prisoners."

  They had by this time reached the monastery of the Carmelites, nowconverted into a prison. Here a large number of priests had beencollected. The Marseillais entered, and the prisoners were calledby name to assemble in the garden.

  First the Archbishop of Arles was murdered; then they fell upon theothers and hewed them down. The Bishops of Saintes and Beauvaiswere among the slain, and the assassins did not desist until thelast prisoner in the Carmelites had been hacked to pieces. Graveshad already been dug near the Barrier Saint Jacques and carts werewaiting to convey the corpses there, showing how carefully thepreparations for the massacre had been made.

  Then the Marseillais returned to the Abbaye, and, with a crowdof followers, entered the great hall. Here the bailiff Maillardorganized a sort of tribunal of men taken at random from thecrowd. Some of these were paid hirelings of the Commune, some wereterrified workmen or small tradesmen who had, merely from curiosity,joined the mob. The Swiss officers and soldiers, who were, with thepriests, special objects of hatred to the mob, were first broughtout. They were spared the farce of a trial, they were ordered tomarch out through the doors, outside which the Marseillais wereawaiting them. Some hesitated to go out, and cried for mercy.

  A young man with head erect was the first to pass through the fataldoors. He fell in a moment, pierced with pikes. The rest followedhim, and all save two, who were, by some caprice of the mob,spared, shared his fate. The mob had crowded into the gallerieswhich surrounded the hall and applauded with ferocious yells themurder of the soldiers. In the body of the hall a space was keptclear by the armed followers of the Commune round the judges' table,and a pathway to the door from the interior of the prison to thatopening into the street.

  When the Swiss had been massacred the trial of the other prisonerscommenced. One after another the prisoners were brought out. Theywere asked their names and occupations, a few questions followed,and then the verdict of "Guilty." One after another they wereconducted to the door and there slain. Two or three by the wittinessof their answers amused the mob and were thereupon acquitted,the acquittals being greeted by the spectators as heartily as thesentences of death.

  Victor and Harry were in the lowest gallery. They stood back fromthe front, but between the heads of those before them they could seewhat was going on below. Victor stood immovable, his face as paleas death. His cap had fallen off, his hair was dank with perspiration,his eyes had a look of concentrated horror, his body shook witha spasmodic shuddering. In vain Harry, when he once saw what wasgoing to take place, urged him in a low whisper to leave. He didnot appear to hear, and even when Harry pulled him by the sleeveof his blouse he seemed equally unconscious. Harry was greatlyalarmed, and feared that every moment his companion would betrayhimself by some terrible out-burst.

  After the three or four first prisoners had been disposed of,a tall and stately man was brought into the hall. A terrible cry,which sounded loud even above the tumult which reigned, burst fromVictor's lips. He threw himself with the fury of a madman upon thosein front of him, and in a moment would have bounded into the hallhad not Harry brought the heavy stick he carried with all his forcedown upon his head. Victor fell like a log under the blow.

  "What is it? What is it?" shouted those around.

  "My comrade has gone out of his mind," Harry said quietly; "hehas been drinking for some days, and his hatred for the enemiesof France has turned his head. I have been watching him, and hadI not knocked him down he would have thrown himself head-foremostoff the gallery and broken his neck."

  The explanation seemed natural, and all were too interested inwhat was passing in the hall below to pay further attention to sotrivial an incident. It was well that Harry had caught sight of theprisoner before Victor did so and was prepared for the out-break,for it was the Duc de Gisons who had thus been led in to murder.Harry dragged Victor back against the wall behind and then triedto lift him.

  "I will lend you a hand," a tall man in the dress of a mechanic,who had been standing next to him, said, and, lifting Victor's bodyon to his shoulder, made his way to the top of the stairs, Harrypreceding him and opening a way through the crowd. In another minutethey were in the open air.

  "Thank you greatly," Harry said. "I do not know how I should havemanaged without your aid. If you put him down here I will try andbring him round."

  "I live not far from here," the man said. "I will take him to myroom. You need not be afraid," he a
dded as Harry hesitated, "I havegot my eyes open, you can trust me."

  So saying he made his way through the crowd gathered outside. Hewas frequently asked who he was carrying, for the crowd feared lestany of their prey should escape; but the man's reply, given witha rough laugh--"It is a lad whose stomach is not strong enough tobear the sight of blood, and I tell you it is pretty hot inthere,"--satisfied them.

  Passing through several streets the man entered a small house andcarried Victor to the attic and laid him on a bed, then he carefullyclosed the door and struck a light.

  "You struck hard, my friend," he said as he examined Victor's head."Ma foi, I should not have liked such a blow myself, but I don'tblame you. You were but just in time to prevent his betrayinghimself, and better a hundred times a knock on the head than thosepikes outside the door. I had my eye on him, and felt sure he woulddo something rash, and I had intended to choke him, but he was tooquick for me. How came you to be so foolish as to be there?"

  "We had friends in the prison, and we thought we might do somethingto save them," Harry answered, for he saw that it would be his bestpolicy to be frank. "It was his father whom they brought out."

  "It was rash of you, young sir. A kid might as well try to save hismother from the tiger who has laid its paw upon her as for you totry to rescue any one from the clutches of the mob. Mon Dieu! Tothink that in the early days I was fool enough to go down to theAssembly and cheer the deputies; but I have seen my mistake. Whathas it brought us? A ruined trade, an empty cupboard, and to beruled by the ruffians of the slums instead of the king, the clergy,and the upper classes. I was a brass-worker, and a good one, thoughI say it myself, and earned good wages. Now for the last monthI haven't done a stroke of work. Who wants to buy brass-work whenthere are mansions and shops to pillage? And now, what are yougoing to do? My wife is out, but she will probably be back soon.We will attend to this young fellow. She is a good nurse, and Itell you I think he will need all we can do for him."

  "You don't think I have seriously injured him?" Harry said in atone of dismay.

  "No, no; don't make yourself uneasy. You have stunned him, andthat's all; he will soon get over that. I have seen men get worseknocks in a drunken row and be at work again in the morning; butit is different here. I saw his face, and he was pretty nearly madwhen you struck him. I doubt whether he will be in his right senseswhen he comes round; but never fear, we will look after him well.You can stay if you like; but if you want to go you can trust himto us. I see you can keep your head, and will not run into dangeras he did."

  "I do want to go terribly," Harry said, "terribly; and I feelthat I can trust you completely. You have saved his life and minealready. Now you will not be hurt at what I am going to say. Heis the son of the Duc de Gisons, the last man we saw brought outto be murdered. We have plenty of money. In a belt round his waistyou will find a hundred louis. Please do not spare them. If youthink he wants a surgeon call him in, and get everything necessaryfor your household. While you are nursing him you cannot go outto work. I do not talk of reward; one cannot reward kindness likeyours; but while you are looking after him you and your wife mustlive."

  "Agreed!" the man said, shaking Harry by the hand. "You speaklike a man of heart. I will look after him. You need be under nouneasiness. Should any of my comrades come in I shall say: 'thisis a young workman who got knocked down and hurt in the crowd, andwhom, having nothing better to do, I have brought in here."'

  "If he should recover his senses before I come back," Harry said,"please do not let him know it was I who struck him. He willbe well-nigh heart-broken that he could not share the fate of hisfather. Let him think that he was knocked down by some one in thecrowd."

  "All right! That is easily managed," the man said. "Jacques Medartis no fool. Now you had best be off, for I see you are on thorns,and leave me to bathe his head. If you shouldn't come back you candepend upon it I will look after him till he is able to go aboutagain."