CHAPTER VI.
WOMEN AND FLOWERS.
Some months after recorded events, about the end of March, 1791, Dr.Gilbert was hurriedly called to his friend Mirabeau, by the latter'sfaithful servant Deutsch, who had been alarmed.
Mirabeau had spoken in the House on the question of Mines, the interestsof owners and of the State not being very clearly defined. To celebratehis victory, he gave a supper to some friends and was prostrated byinternal pains.
Gilbert was too skillful a physician not to see how grave the invalidwas. He bled him and the black blood relieved the sufferer.
"You are a downright great man," said he.
"And you a great blockhead to risk a life so precious to your friendsfor a few hours of fictitious pleasure," retorted his deliverer.
The orator smiled almost ironically, in melancholy.
"I think you exaggerate and that my friends and France do not hold me sodear."
"Upon my honor," replied Gilbert laughing, "great men complain ofingratitude and they are really the ungrateful ones. If it were a mostserious malady of yours, all Paris would flock under your window; wereyou to die, all France would come to your obsequies."
"What you say is very consoling, let me tell you," said the other,merrily.
"It is just because you can see one without risking the other that Isay it, and indeed, you need a great public demonstration to restoreyour morale. Let me take you to Paris within a couple of hours, my dearcount; let me tell the first man on the street corner that you areailing and you will see the excitement."
"I would go if you put off the departure till this evening, and let memeet you at my house in Paris at eleven."
Gilbert looked at his patient and the latter saw that he was seenthrough.
"My dear count, I noticed flowers on the Dining-room table," said he:"it was not merely a supper to friends."
"You know that I cannot do without flowers; they are my craze."
"But they were not alone."
"If they are a necessity I must suffer from the consequences theyentail."
"Count, the consequences will kill you."
"Confess, doctor, that it will be a delightful kind of suicide."
"I will not leave you this day."
"Doctor, I have pledged my word and you would not make me fail in that."
"I shall see you this night, though?"
"Yes, really I feel better."
"You mean you drive me away?"
"The idea of such a thing."
"I shall be in town; I am on duty at the palace."
"Then you will see the Queen," said Mirabeau, becoming gloomy once more.
"Probably; have you any message for her?"
Mirabeau smiled bitterly.
"I should not take such a liberty, doctor; do not even say that you haveseen me: for she will ask if I have saved the monarchy, as I promised,and you will be obliged to answer No! It is true," he added with anervous laugh, "that the fault is as much hers as mine."
"You do not want me to tell her that your excess of exertions in thetribune is killing you."
"Nay, you may tell her that," he replied after brief meditation: "youmay make me out as worse than I am, to test her feelings."
"I promise you that, and to repeat her own words."
"It is well: I thank you, doctor--adieu!"
"What are you prescribing?"
"Warm drinks, soothing, strict diet and--no nurse-woman less thanfifty----"
"Rather than infringe the regulation I would take two of twenty-five!"
At the door Gilbert met Deutsch, who was in tears.
"All this through a woman--just because she looks like the Queen," saidthe man; "how stupid of a genius, as they say he is."
He let out Gilbert who stepped into his carriage, muttering:
"What does he mean by a woman like the Queen?"
He thought of asking Deutsch, but it was the count's secret, and heordered his coachman to drive to town.
On the way he met Camille Desmoulins, the living newspaper of the day,to whom he told the truth of the illness because it was the truth.
When he announced the news to the King, the latter inquired if the counthad lost his appetite.
"Yes, Sire," was the doctor's reply.
"Then it is a bad case," sighed the monarch, shifting the subject.
When the same words were repeated to the daughter of Maria Theresa, herforehead darkened.
"Why was he not so stricken on the day of his panegyric on the tricolorflag?" she sneered. "Never mind," she went on, as if repenting theexpression of her hatred before a Frenchman, "it would be veryunfortunate for France if this malady makes progress. Doctor, I rely onyour keeping me informed about it."
At the appointed hour, Gilbert called on his patient at his town house.His eyes caught sight of a lady's scarf on a chair.
"Glad to see you," said Mirabeau, quickly as though to divert hisattention from it, "I have learnt that you kept half your promise.Deutsch has been busy answering friendly inquiries from our arrival. Areyou true to the second part? have you been to the palace and seen theKing and Queen?"
"Yes; and told them you were unwell. The King sincerely condoled when heheard that you had lost your appetite. The Queen was sorry and bade mekeep her informed."
"But I want the words she used."
"Well, she said that it was a pity you were not ill when you praised thenew flag of the country."
He wished to judge of the Queen's influence over the orator.
He started on the easy chair as if receiving the discharge of a galvanicbattery.
"Ingratitude of monarchs," he muttered. "That speech of mine blottedout remembrance of the rich Civil List and the dower I obtained forher. This Queen must be ignorant that I was compelled to regain thepopularity I lost for her sake; but she no more remembers it than myproposing the adjournment of the annexation of Avignon to France inorder to please the King's religious scruples. But these and otherfaults of mine I have dearly paid for," continued Mirabeau. "Not thatthese faults will ruin them, but there are times when ruin must come,whether faults help them forward or not. The Queen does not wish to besaved but to be revenged; hence she relishes no reasonable ideas.
"I have tried to save liberty and royalty at the same time; but I amnot fighting against men, or tigers, but an element--it is submergingme like the sea: yesterday up to the knee, today up to the waist,to-morrow I shall be struggling with it up to my neck. I must be openwith you, doctor; I felt chagrin first, then disgust. I dreamt of beingthe arbiter between the Revolution and monarchy. I believed I shouldhave an ascendancy over the Queen as a man, and some day when she wasgoing under the flood, I meant to leap in and rescue her. But, no! theywould not honestly take me; they try to destroy my popularity, ruin me,annihilate me, and make me powerless to do either good or evil. So,now that I have done my best, I tell you, doctor, that the best thingI can do is die in the nick of time; fall artistically like the DyingGladiator, and offer my throat to be cut with gracefulness; yield up theghost with decency."
He sank back on the reclining chair and bit the pillow savagely. Gilbertknew what he sought, on what Mirabeau's life depended.
"What will you say if the King or the Queen should send to inquire afteryour health?" he asked.
"The Queen will not do it--she will not stoop so low."
"I do not believe, but I suppose, I presume----"
"I will wait till to-morrow night."
"And then?"
"If she sends a confidential man I will say you are right and I wrong.But if on the contrary none come, then it will be the other way."
"Keep tranquil till then. But this scarf?"
"I shall not see her, on my honor," he said, smiling.
"Good, try to get a good quiet night, and I will answer for you," saidGilbert, going out.
"Your master is better, my honest Deutsch," said he to the attendant atthe door.
The old valet shook his head sadly.
"D
o you doubt my word?"
"I doubt everything since his bad angel will be beside him."
He sighed as he left the doctor on the gloomy stairs. At the landingcorner Gilbert saw a veiled shadow which seemed waiting: on perceivinghim, it uttered a low scream and disappeared so quickly by a partlyopened door that it resembled a flight.
"Who is that woman?" questioned the doctor.
"The one who looks like the Queen," responded Deutsch.
For the second time Gilbert was struck by the same idea on hearing thisphrase: he took a couple of steps as though to chase the phantom, but hechecked himself, saying,
"It cannot be."
He continued his way, leaving the old domestic in despair that thislearned man could not conjure away the demon whom he believed the agentof the Inferno.
Next day all Paris called to inquire after the invalid orator. The crowdin the street would not believe Deutsch's encouraging report but forcedall vehicles to turn into the side streets so that their idol should notbe disturbed by their noise.
Mirabeau got up and went to the window to wave a greeting to theseworshipers, who shouted their wishes for his long life.
But he was thinking of the haughty woman who did not trouble her headabout him, and his eyes wandered over the mob to see if any servants inthe royal blue livery were not trying to make their way through themass. By evening his impatience changed into gloomy bitterness.
Still he waited for the almost promised token of interest, and still itdid not come.
At eleven, Gilbert came; he had written his best wishes during the day:he came in smiling, but he was daunted by the expression on Mirabeau'sface, faithful mirror of his soul's perturbations.
"Nobody has come," said he. "Will you tell me what you have done thisday?"
"Why, the same as usual----"
"No, doctor and I saw what happened and will tell you the same as thoughpresent. You called on the Queen and told her how ill I was: she saidshe would send to ask the latest news, and you went away, happy andsatisfied, relying on the royal word. She was left laughing, bitter andhaughty, ignorant that a royal word must not be broken--mocking at yourcredulity."
"Truly, had you been there, you could not have seen and heard moreclearly," said Gilbert.
"What numbskulls they are," exclaimed Mirabeau. "I told you they neverdid a thing at the right time. Men in the royal livery coming to my doorwould have wrung shouts of 'Long live the King!' from the multitude andgiven them popularity for a year."
He shook his head with grief.
"What is the matter, count?" asked Gilbert.
"Nothing."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"Not since two o'clock."
"Then take a bath and have a meal."
"A capital idea!"
Mirabeau listened in the bath until he heard the street door close afterthe doctor.
Then he rang for his servant, not Deutsch but another, to have the tablein his room decked with flowers, and "Madam Oliva" invited to sup withhim.
He closed all the doors of the supper-room except that to the rooms ofthe strange woman whom the old German called his bad angel.
At about four in the morning, Deutsch who sat up, heard a violent ringof the room bell. He and another servant rushed to the supper-room, butall the doors were fastened so that they had to go round by the strangelady's rooms. There they found her in the arms of their master, who hadtried to prevent her giving the alarm. She had rung the table-bell frominability to get at the bell pull.
She was screaming as much for her own relief as her lover's, as he wassuffocating her in his convulsive embrace.
It seemed to be Death trying to drag her into the grave.
Jean ran to rouse Dr. Gilbert while Deutsch got his master to a couch.In ten minutes the doctor drove up.
"What is it now?" he asked of Deutsch, in the hall.
"That woman again and the cursed flowers! Come and see."
At this moment something like a sob was heard; Gilbert, ran up thestairs at the top step of which a door opened, and a woman in a whitewrapper ran out suddenly and fell at the doctor's feet.
"Oh, Gilbert," she screamed, "save him!"
"Nicole Legay," cried the doctor; "was it you, wretch, who have killedhim?" A dreadful thought overwhelmed him. "I saw her bully Beausireselling broadsides against Mirabeau, and she became his mistress. He isundoubtedly lost, for Cagliostro set himself against him."
He turned back into his patient's room, fully aware that no time wasto be lost. Indeed, he was too versed in secrets of his craft still tohope, far less to preserve any doubt. In the body before his eyes, itwas impossible to see the living Mirabeau. From that time, his faceassumed the solemn cast of great men dying.
Meanwhile the news had spread that there was a relapse and that the doomimpended. Then could it be judged what a gigantic place one man may fillamong his fellows. The entire city was stirred as on great calamities.The door was besieged by persons of all opinions as though everybodyknew they had something to lose by his loss.
He caused the window to be opened that he might be soothed by the hum ofthe multitude beneath.
"Oh, good people," he murmured: "slandered, despised and insulted likeme, it is right that those Royals should forget me and the Plebes bearme in mind."
Night drew near.
"My dear doctor," he said to him who would not leave him, "this is mydying day. At this point nothing is to be done but embalm my corpse andstrew flowers roundabout."
Scarcely had Jean, to whom everybody rushed at the door for news, saidhe wanted flowers for his master, than all the windows opened, andflowers were offered from conservatories and gardens of the rarestsorts. By nine in the morning the room was transformed into a bower ofbloom.
"My dear doctor, I beg a quarter of an hour to say good-bye to a personwho ought to quit the house before I go. I ask you to protect her incase they hoot her."
"I leave you alone," said Gilbert, understanding.
"Before going, kindly hand me the little casket in the secretary."
Gilbert did as requested; the money-box was heavy enough to be full ofgold.
At the end of half an hour, spent by Gilbert in giving news to theinquirers, Jean ushered a veiled lady out to a hackney-carriage at thedoor.
Gilbert ran to his patient.
"Put the casket back," said he in a faint voice. "Odd, is it not?" hecontinued, seeing how astonished the doctor looked at its being as heavyas before, "but where the deuce will disinterestedness next have anest?"
Near the bed, Gilbert picked up a lace handkerchief wet with tears.
"Ah, she would take nothing away--but she left something," remarkedMirabeau.
Feeling it was damp he pressed it to his forehead.
"Tears? is she the only one who has a heart?" he murmured.
He fell back on the bed, with closed eyes; he might have been believeddead or swooning but for the death-rattle in his breast.
How came it that this man of athletic, herculean build should die?
Was it not because he had held out his hand to stay the tumbling thronefrom toppling over? Was it not because he had offered his arm to thatwoman of misfortune known as Marie Antoinette?
Had not Cagliostro predicted some such fate to Gilbert for Mirabeau? andthe two strange creatures--one, Beausire, blasting the reputation, theother, Nicole, blasting the health of the great orator who had becomethe supporter of the monarchy--were they not for him, Gilbert, a proofthat all things which were obstacles to this man--or rather the idea hestood for--must go down before him as the Bastile had done?
Nevertheless he was going to try upon him the elixir of life which heowed to Cagliostro; it was irony to save his victim with his own remedy.
The patient had opened his eyes.
"Nay," said he, "a few drops will be vain. You must give me the wholephial. I had the stuff analyzed and found it was Indian hemp; I had somecompounded for myself and I have been taking it copiously not to livebu
t to dream."
"Unhappy man that I am," sighed Gilbert; "he has led to my dealing outpoison to my friend."
"A sweet poison, by which I have lengthened out the last moments of mylife a hundredfold. In my dream I have enjoyed what has really escapedme, riches, power, and love. I do not know whether I ought to thank Godfor my life, but I thank you, doctor, for your drug. Fill up the glassand let me have it."
Gilbert presented the extract which the patient absorbed with gusto.
"Ah, doctor," he said after a short pause, as if the veil of the futurewere raised at the approach of eternity; "blessed are those who diein this year, 1791! for they will have seen the sunny side of theRevolution. Never has a great one cost so little bloodshed up to now,because it is the mind that was conquered: but on the morrow the warwill be upon facts and in things. Perhaps you believe that the tenantsof the Tuileries will mourn for me? not at all. My death rids them ofan engagement. With me, they had to rule in a certain way: I was lesssupport than hindrance. _She_ excused herself for leaning on me, to herbrother: 'Mirabeau believes that he is advising me--I am only amusingmyself with him.' That is why I wished that woman, her likeness, to bemy mistress, and not my Queen.
"What a fine part he shall play in History who undertook to sustain theyoung nation with one hand and the old monarchy in the other, forcingthem to tread the same goal--the happiness of the governed and therespect of the governors. It might have been possible and might be buta dream; but I am convinced that I alone could have realized the dream.My sorrow is not in dying, but in dying with work unfinished. Who willglorify my idea left mangled, an abortion? What will be known of me willbe the part that should be buried in oblivion--my wild, reckless, rakishlife and my obscene writings.
"I shall be blamed for having made a bond with the court out of whichcomes gain for no man; I shall be judged, dying at forty-two, like onewho lived man's full age. They will take me to task as if instead oftrying to walk on the waters in a storm, I had trodden a broad way pavedwith laws, statutes, and regulations. To whom shall I league my memoryto be cleansed and be an honor to my country?
"But I could do nothing without her, and she would not take my helpinghand. I pledged myself like a fool, while she remained unfettered. Butit is so--all is for the best; and if you will promise one thing, noregret will trouble my last breath."
"Good God, what would I not promise?"
"If my passing from life is tedious, make it easy? I ask the aid notonly of the doctor but of the man and the philosopher--promise to aidme. I do not wish to die dead,--but living, and the last step will notbe hard to take."
The doctor bent his head towards the speaker.
"I promised not to leave you, my friend; if heaven hath condemnedyou--though I hope we have not come to that point--leave to my affectionat the supreme instant the care of accomplishing what I ought to do. Ifdeath comes, I shall be at hand also."
"Thanks," said the dying one as if this were all he awaited.
The abundant dose of cannabis indicus had restored speech to the doomedone: but this vitality of the mind vanished and for three hours the coldhand remained in the doctor's without a throb. Suddenly he felt a start:the awakening had come.
"It will be a dreadful struggle," he thought.
Such was the agony in which the strong frame wrestled that Gilbertforgot that he had promised to second death, not to oppose it. But,reminded of his pledge, he seized the pen to write a prescription foran opiate. Scarcely had he written the last words than Mirabeau rose onthe pillow and asked for the pen. With his hand clenched by death hescrawled:
"Flee, flee, flee!"
He tried to sign but could only trace four letters of his name.
"For her," he gasped, holding out his convulsed arm towards hiscompanion.
He fell back without breath, movement or look--he was dead.
Gilbert turned to the spectators of this scene and said:
"Mirabeau is no more."
Taking the paper whose destination he alone might divine, he rapidlydeparted from the death chamber.
Some seconds after the doctor's going, a great clamor arose in thestreet and was prolonged throughout Paris.
The grief was intense and wide. The Assembly voted a public funeral, andthe Pantheon, formerly Church of St. Genevieve, was selected for thegreat man's resting-place. Three years subsequently the Convention sentthe coffin to the Clamart Cemetery to be bundled among the corpses ofthe publicly executed.
Petion claimed to have discovered a contra-revolutionary plot written inthe hand of Mirabeau, and Congress reversed its previous judgment anddeclared that genius could not condone corruption.