La comtesse de Charny. English

  CHAPTER I.

  THE NEW MEN AT THE WHEEL.

  It was on the first of October, 1791, that the new Legislative Assemblywas to be inaugurated over France.

  King Louis XVI., captured with Queen Marie Antoinette and the royalfamily, while attempting to escape from the kingdom and join hisbrothers and the other princes abroad, was held in a kind of detention,like imprisonment without hard labor, in the Tuileries Palace in Paris.

  His fate hung on the members of the new House of Representatives. Letus hasten to see what they were.

  The Congress was composed of seven hundred and forty-five members: fourhundred lawyers of one kind or another; some seventy literary men;seventy priests who had taken the oath to abide by the Constitution,not yet framed, but to which the king had subscribed on the sketch. Theremaining two hundred odd were landholders, farming their own estatesor hiring them out to others.

  Among these was Francois Billet, a robust peasant of forty-five,distinguished by the people of Paris and France as a hero, from havingbeen mainly instrumental in the taking of the Bastile, regarded as theembodiment of the ancient tyranny, now almost leveled with the dust.

  Billet had suffered two wrongs at the hands of the king's men and thenobles, which he had sworn to avenge as well on the classes as on theindividuals.

  His farm-house had been pillaged by Paris policemen acting under ablank warrant signed by the king and issued at the request of Andreade Taverney, Countess of Charny, the queen's favorite, as her husbandthe count was reckoned, too. She had a spite against Billet's friend,Dr. Honore Gilbert, a noted patriot and politician. In his youth, thisafterward distinguished physician had taken advantage of her sensesbeing steeped in a mesmeric swoon, to lower her pride. Thanks to thistrance and from his overruling love, he was the progenitor of her son,Sebastian Emile Gilbert; but with all the pride of this paternity, hewas haunted by unceasing remorse. Andrea could not forgive this crime,all the more as it was a thorn in her side since her marriage.

  It was a marriage enforced on her, as the Count of Charny had beencaught by the king on his knees to the queen; and to prevent thestupid monarch being convinced by this scene that there was truth inthe tattle at court that Count Charny was Marie Antoinette's paramour,she had explained that he merely was suing for the hand of her friendAndrea. The king's consent given, this marriage took place, but forsix years the couple dwelt apart; not that mutual love did not prevailbetween them, but neither was aware of the affection each had inspiredin the other at first sight.

  The new countess thought that Charny's affection for the queen was aguilty and durable one; while he, believing his wife, by compulsion,a saint on earth, dared not presume on the position which fate anddevotion to their sovereign had imposed on them both.

  This devotion was confirmed on the count's part, cemented by blood;for his two brothers, Valence and Isidore, had lost their lives indefending the king and queen from the revolutionists.

  Andrea had a brother, Philip, who also loved the queen, but he had beenoffended by her amour with Charny; and, being touched by an Americanrepublican fever while fighting with Lafayette for the liberation ofthe thirteen colonies, he had quitted the court of France.

  On his way he had wounded Gilbert, whom he learned to be his sister'swronger, as well as having stolen away her infant son; but althoughthe wound would have been mortal under other treatment, it had beenhealed by the wondrous medicaments of Joseph Balsamo, _alias_ CountCagliostro, the celebrated head of the Invisibles, a branch of theOrient Freemasons, dedicated to overthrow the monarchy and set up arepublic, after the United States model, in France, if not in Europe.

  Gilbert and Cagliostro were therefore fast friends, to say nothing ofthe latter's regret that he should have set temptation in the youngman's way; it was he who had plunged Andrea into the magnetic slumberfrom which she had awakened a maid no longer.

  But some recompense had come to the proud lady, after the sixyears' wedded life to the very man she adored, though fate andmisunderstanding had estranged them. On learning what a martyr shehad been through the unconscious motherhood, Count George had morethan forgiven her--he worshiped her; and in their country seat atBoursonnes, eighteen miles from Paris, he was forgetting, in her lovelyarms the demands of his queen, his king, and his caste, to use hisinfluence in the political arena.

  This silence on his part led to the candidature of Farmer Billet beingunimpeded.

  Besides, Charny would hardly have moved in opposition to the latter,as one cause of the enmity of the peasant was his daughter's ruin byViscount Isidore Charny. The death of the latter, not being by Billet'shand, had not appeased the grudge. He was a stern, unrelenting man; andjust as he would not forgive his daughter Catherine for her dishonor,or even look upon her son, he stood out uncompromisingly against thenobles and the priests.

  Charny had stolen his daughter; the clergy, in the person of his parishpriest, Father Fortier, had refused burial to his wife.

  On her grave he had vowed eternal hostility to the nobles and theclericals.

  The farmers had great power at election time, as they employed ten,twenty, or thirty hands; and though the suffrage was divided into twoclasses at the period, the result depended on the rural vote.

  As each man quitted Billet at the grave, he shook him by the hand,saying:

  "It is a sure thing, brother."

  Billet had gone home to his lonely farm, easy on this score; for thefirst time he saw a plain way of returning the noble class and royaltyall the harm they had done him. He felt, but did not reason, and histhirst for vengeance was as blind as the blows he had received.

  His daughter had come home to nurse her mother, and receive at the lastgasp her blessing and for her son, born in shame; but Billet had saidnever a word to her; none could tell if he were aware of her flittingthrough the farm. Since a year he had not uttered her name, and it wasthe same as if she had never existed.

  Her only friend was Ange Pitou, a poor peasant lad whom Billet hadharbored when he was driven from home by his Aunt Angelique.

  As Catherine was really the ruler of the roast on the farm, it was butnatural that Pitou should offer her some part of the gratitude Billethad earned. This excellent feeling expanded into love; but there waslittle chance for the peasant when the girl had been captivated by theelegant young lord, although the elevation common during revolution hadexalted Ange into a captaincy of the National Guards.

  But Pitou had never swerved in his love for the deluded girl. He had aheart of gold; he was deeply sorry that Catherine had not loved him,but on comparing himself with young Charny, he acknowledged that shemust prefer him. He envied Isidore, but he bore Catherine no ill-will;quite otherwise, he still loved her with profound and entire devotion.

  To say this dedication was completely exempt from anguish, is going toofar; but the pangs which made Pitou's heart ache at each new token ofCatherine's love for her dead lover, showed his ineffable goodness.

  All his feeling for Catherine when Isidore was slain at Varennes,where Billet arrested the king in his flight, was of utter pity.Quite contrary to Billet, he did justice to the young noble in theway of grace, generosity, and kindness, though he was his rivalwithout knowing it. Like Catherine, he knew that the barriers of castewere insurmountable, and that the viscount could not have made hissweetheart his wife.

  The consequence was that Pitou perhaps more loved the widow in hersorrow than when she was the coquettish girl, but it came to pass thathe almost loved the little orphan boy like his own.

  Let none be astonished, therefore, that after taking leave of Billetlike the others, Ange went toward Haramont instead of Billet's farm,which might also be his home.

  But he had lodgings at Haramont village, where he was born, and he waschief of the National Guards there.

  They were so accustomed to his sudden departures and unexpectedreturns, that nobody was worried at them. When he went away, they saidto one another: "He has gone to town to confer with General Lafayette,"for the Fren
ch lieutenant of General Washington was the friend, here asthere, of Dr. Gilbert, who was their fellow-peasants' patron, and hadfurnished the funds to equip the Haramont company of volunteers.

  On their commander's return they asked news of the capital; and ashe could give the freshest and truest, thanks to Dr. Gilbert, who wasan honorary physician to the king as well as friend of Cagliostro--inother words, the communicator between the two Leyden jars of therevolution--Pitou's predictions were sure to be realized in a few days,so that all continued to show him blind trust, as well as militarycaptain as political prophet.

  On his part, Gilbert knew all that was good and self-sacrificing inthe peasant; he felt that he was a man to whom he might at the scratchintrust his life or Sebastian's--a treasure or a commission, anythingconfided to strength and loyalty. Every time Pitou came to Paris, thedoctor would ask him if he stood in need of anything, without the youngman coloring up; and while he would always say, "Nothing, thank you,Doctor Gilbert," this did not prevent the physician giving him somemoney, which Pitou ingulfed in his pocket.

  A few gold pieces, with what he picked up in the game shot or trappedin the Duke of Orleans' woods, were a fortune; so, rarely did he findhimself at the end of his resources when he met the doctor and had hissupply renewed.

  Knowing, then, how friendly Pitou was with Catherine and her baby, itwill be understood that he hastily separated from Billet, to know howhis cast-off daughter was getting on.

  His road to Haramont took him past a hut in the woods where lived aveteran of the wars, who, on a pension and the privilege of killing ahare or a rabbit each day, lived a happy hermit's life, remote fromman. Father Clovis, as this old soldier was called, was a great friendof Pitou. He had taught the boy to go gunning, and also the militarydrill by which he had trained the Haramont Guards to be the envy of thecounty. When Catherine was banished from her father's, after Billet hadtried to shoot Isidore, his hut sheltered her till after the birth ofher son. On her applying once more for the like hospitality, he hadnot hesitated; and when Pitou came along, she was sitting on the bed,with tears on her cheek at the revival of sad memories, and her boy inher arms.

  On seeing the new-comer, Catherine set down the child and offeredher forehead for Pitou's kiss; he gladly took her two hands, kissedher, and the child was sheltered by the arch formed with his stoopingfigure. Dropping on his knees to her and kissing the baby's littlehands, he exclaimed:

  "Never mind, I am rich; Master Isidore shall never come to want."

  Pitou had twenty-five gold louis, which he reckoned to make him rich.Keen of wit and kind of heart, Catherine appreciated all that is good.

  "Thank you, Captain Pitou," she said; "I believe you, and I am happy inso believing, for you are my only friend, and if you were to cast meoff, we should stand alone in the world; but you never will, will you?"

  "Oh, don't talk like that," cried Pitou, sobbing; "you will make mepour out all the tears in my body."

  "I was wrong; excuse me," she said.

  "No, no, you are right; I am a fool to blubber."

  "Captain Pitou," said Catherine, "I should like an airing. Give me yourarm for a stroll under the trees. I fancy it will do me good."

  "I feel as if I were smothering myself," added Pitou.

  The child had no need of air, nothing but sleep; so he was laid abed,and Catherine walked out with Pitou.

  Five minutes after they were in the natural temple, under the hugetrees.

  Without being a philosopher on a level with Voltaire or Rousseau,Pitou understood that he and Catherine were atoms carried on by thewhirlwind. But these atoms had their joy and grief just like the otheratoms called king, queen, nobles; the mill of God, held by fatality,ground crowns and thrones to dust at the same time, and crushedCatherine's happiness no less harshly than if she wore a diadem.

  Two years and a half before, Pitou was a poor peasant lad, hunted fromhome by his Aunt Angelique, received by Billet, feasted by Catherine,and "cut out" by Isidore.

  At present, Ange Pitou was a power; he wore a sword by his sideand epaulets on his shoulders; he was called a captain, and he wasprotecting the widow and son of the slain Viscount Isidore.

  Relatively to Pitou the expression was exact of Danton, who, when askedwhy he was making the revolution, replied: "To put on high what wasundermost, and send the highest below all."

  But though these ideas danced in his head, he was not the one to profitby them, and the good and modest fellow went on his knees to begCatherine to let him shield her and the boy.

  Like all suffering hearts, Catherine had a finer appreciation in griefthan in joy. Pitou, who was in her happy days a lad of no consequence,became the holy creature he really was; in other words, a man ofgoodness, candor, and devotion. The result was that, unfortunate andin want of a friend, she understood that Pitou was just the friend shewished; and so, always received by Catherine with one hand held out tohim, and a witching smile, Pitou began to lead a life of bliss of whichhe never had had the idea even in dreams of paradise.

  During this time, Billet, still mute as regarded his daughter, pursuedhis idea of being nominated for the House while getting in his harvest.Only one man could have beaten him, if he had the same ambition; but,entirely absorbed in his love and happiness, the Count of Charny, theworld forgetting, believed himself forgotten by the world. He did notthink of the matter, enjoying his unexpected felicity.

  Hence, nothing opposed Billet's election in Villers Cotterets district,and he was elected by an immense majority.

  As soon as chosen, he began to turn everything into money; it had beena good year. He set aside his landlord's share, reserved his own, putaside the grain for sowing, and the fodder for his live stock, and thecash to keep the work-folks going, and one morning sent for Pitou.

  Now and then Pitou paid him a visit. Billet always welcomed him withopen hand, made him take meals, if anything was on the board, or wineor cider, if it was the right time for drinks. But never had Billetsent for Pitou. Hence, it was not without disquiet that the young manproceeded to the farm.

  Billet was always grave; nobody could say that he had seen a smile passover his lips since his daughter had left the farm. This time he wasgraver than usual.

  Still he held out his hand in the old manner to Pitou, shook his withmore vigor than usual, and kept it in his, while the other looked athim with wonder.

  "Pitou, you are an honest fellow," said the farmer.

  "Faith, I believe I am," replied Pitou.

  "I am sure of it."

  "You are very good, Master Billet."

  "It follows that, as I am going away, I shall leave you at the head ofmy farm."

  "Impossible! There are a lot of petty matters for which a woman's eyeis indispensable."

  "I know it," replied Billet; "you can select the woman to share thesuperintendence with you. I shall not ask her name; I don't want toknow it; and when I come down to the farm, I shall notify you a weekahead, so she will have time to get out of the way if she ought not tosee me or I see her."

  "Very well, Master Billet," said the new steward.

  "Now, in the granary is the grain for sowing; also the hay and otherfodder for the cattle, and in this drawer you see the cash to pay thehands." He opened a drawer full of hard money.

  "Stop a bit, master. How much is in this drawer?"

  "I do not know," rejoined Billet, locking the drawer and giving the keyto Pitou, with the words; "When you want more, ask for it."

  Pitou felt all the trust in this speech and put out his hand to graspthe other's, but was checked by his humility.

  "Nonsense," said Billet; "why should not honest men grasp hands?"

  "If you should want me in town?"

  "Rest easy; I shall not forget you. It is two o'clock; I shall startfor Paris at five. At six, you might be here with the woman you chooseto second you."

  "Right; but then, there is no time to lose," said Pitou. "I hope weshall soon meet again, dear Master Billet."

  Billet wat
ched him hurrying away as long as he could see him, and whenhe disappeared, he said: "Now, why did not Catherine fall in love withan honest chap like that, rather than one of those noble vermin wholeaves her a mother without being a wife, and a widow without her beingwed."

  It is needless to say that Billet got upon the Villers Cotterets stageto ride to Paris at five, and that at six Catherine and little Isidorere-entered the farm.

  Billet found himself among young men in the House, not merelyrepresentatives, but fighters; for it was felt that they had to wrestlewith the unknown.

  They were armed against two enemies, the clergy and the nobility. Ifthese resisted, the orders were for them to be overcome.

  The king was pitied, and the members were left free to treat him asoccasion dictated. It was hoped that he might escape the threefoldpower of the queen, the clergy, and the aristocracy; if they upheldhim, they would all be broken to pieces with him. They moved that thetitle of majesty should be suppressed.

  "What shall we call the executive power, then?" asked a voice.

  "Call him 'the King of the French,'" shouted Billet. "It is a prettytitle enough for Capet to be satisfied with."

  Moreover, instead of a throne, the King of the French had to contenthimself with a plain arm-chair, and that was placed on the left of thespeaker's, so that the monarch should be subordinated.

  In the absence of the king, the Constitution was sworn to by the sad,cold House, all aware that the impotent laws would not endure a year.

  As these motions were equivalent to saying, "there is no longer aking." Money, as usual, took fright; down went the stocks dreadfully,and the bankers took alarm.

  There was a revulsion in favor of the king, and his speech in the Housewas so applauded that he went to the theater that evening in high glee.That night he wrote to the powers of Europe that he had subscribed tothe Constitution.

  So far, the House had been tolerant, mild to the refractory priests,and paying pensions to the princes and nobles who had fled abroad.

  We shall see how the nobles recompensed this mildness.

  When they were debating on paying the old and infirm priests, thoughthey might be opposed to the Reformation, news came from Avignon ofa massacre of revolutionists by the religious fanatics, and a bloodyreprisal of the other party.

  As for the runaway nobles, still drawing revenue from their country,this is what they were doing.

  They reconciled Austria with Prussia, making friends of two enemies.They induced Russia to forbid the French embassador going about the St.Petersburg streets, and sent a minister to the refugees at Coblentz.They made Berne punish a town for singing the "It shall go on."They led the kings to act roughly; Russia and Sweden sent back withunbroken seals Louis XVI.'s dispatches announcing his adhesion to theConstitution.

  Spain refused to receive it, and a French revolutionist would have beenburned by the Inquisition only for his committing suicide.

  Venice threw on St. Mark's Place the corpse of a man strangled in thenight by the Council of Ten, with the plain inscription: "This was aFreemason."

  The Emperor and the King of Prussia did answer, but it was by a threat:"We trust we shall not have to take precautions against the repetitionof events promising such sad auguries."

  Hence there was a religious war in La Vendee and in the south, withprospective war abroad.

  At present the intention of the crowned heads was to stifle therevolution rather than cut its throat.

  The defiance of aristocratic Europe was accepted, and instead ofwaiting for the attack, the orator of the House cried for France tobegin the movement.

  The absentee princes were summoned home on penalty of losing all rightsto the succession; the nobles' property was seized, unless they tookthe oath of allegiance to the country. The priests were granted a weekto take the oath, or to be imprisoned, and no churches could be usedfor worship unless by the sworn clergy.

  Lafayette's party wished the king to oppose his veto to these acts,but the queen so hated Lafayette that she induced the Court party tosupport Petion instead of the general for the post of mayor of Paris.Strange blindness, in favor of Petion, her rude jailer, who had broughther back from the flight to Varennes.

  On the nineteenth of December the king vetoed the bill against thepriests.

  That night, at the Jacobin Club, the debate was hot. Virchaux, aSwiss, offered the society a sword for the first general who shouldvanquish the enemies of freedom. Isnard, the wrath of the House, asoutherner, drew the sword, and leaped up into the rostrum, crying:

  "Behold the sword of the exterminating angel! It will be victorious!France will give a loud call, and all the people will respond; theearth will then be covered with warriors, and the foes of liberty willbe wiped out from the list of men!"

  Ezekiel could not have spoken better. This drawn sword was not to besheathed, for war broke out within and without. The Switzer's sword wasfirst to smite the King of France, the foreign sovereigns afterward.