CHAPTER II. THE RESTAURANT 'AU SCELERAT'
As I gained the street, at a distance from the Place, I was able toincrease my speed; and I did so with an eagerness as if the worlddepended on my haste. At any other time I would have bethought me of mydisobedience to the pere's commands, and looked forward to meeting himwith shame and sorrow, but now I felt a kind of importance in the chargeintrusted to me. I regarded my mission as something superior to anypetty consideration of self, while the very proximity in which I hadstood to peril and death made me seem a hero in my own eyes.
At last I reached the street where we lived, and, almost breathless withexertion, gained the door. What was my amazement, however, to find itguarded by a sentry, a large, solemn-looking fellow, with a tatteredcocked-hat on his head, and a pair of worn striped trousers on hislegs, who cried out, as I appeared, 'Halte-la!' in a voice that at oncearrested my steps.
'Where to, youngster?' said he, in a somewhat melted tone, seeing theshock his first words had caused me.
'I am going home, sir,' said I submissively; 'I live at the thirdstorey, in the apartment of the Pere Michel.'
'The Pere Michel will live there no longer, my boy; his apartment is nowin the Temple,' said he slowly.
'In the Temple!' said I, whose memory at once recalled my father's fate;and then, unable to control my feelings, I sat down upon the steps andburst into tears.
'There, there, child, you must not cry thus,' said he; 'these are notdays when one should weep over misfortunes; they come too fast and toothick on all of us for that. The pere was your tutor, I suppose?'
I nodded.
'And your father--where is he?'
'Dead.'
He made a sign to imitate the guillotine, and I assented by another nod.
'Was he a Royalist, boy?'
'He was an officer in the Garde du Corps,' said I proudly. The soldiershook his head mournfully, but with what meaning I know not.
'And your mother, boy?'
'I do not know where she is,' said I, again relapsing into tears at thethought of my utter desolation. The old soldier leaned upon his musketin profound thought, and for some time did not utter a word. At last hesaid--
'There is nothing but the Hotel de Ville for you, my child. They saythat the Republic adopts all the orphans of France. What she does withthem I cannot tell.'
'But I can, though,' replied I fiercely; 'the Noyades or the Seine area quick and sure provision; I saw eighty drowned one morning below thePont Neuf myself.'
'That tongue of yours will bring you into trouble, youngster,' said hereprovingly; 'mind that you say not such things as these.'
'What worse fortune can betide me than to see my father die at theguillotine, and my last, my only friend, carried away to prison?'
'You have no care for your own neck, then?'
'Why should I---what value has life for me?'
'Then it will be spared to you,' said he sententiously; 'mark my words,lad. You never need fear death till you begin to love life. Get up, mypoor boy; you must not be found there when the relief comes, and thatwill be soon. This is all that I have,' said he, placing three sous inmy palm, 'which will buy a loaf; to-morrow there may be better luck instore for you.'
I shook the rough hand he offered with cordial gratitude, and resolvedto bear myself as like a man as I could. I drew myself up, touched mycap in soldierlike fashion, and cried out, adieu--and then, descendinginto the street, hurried away to hide the tears that were almostsuffocating me.
Hour after hour I walked the streets; the mere act of motion seemed todivert my grief, and it was only when, footsore and weary, I could marchno longer, that my sorrows came back in full force, and overwhelmedme in their flow. It was less pride or shame than a sense of my utterhelplessness, that prevented me addressing any one of the hundreds whopassed me. I bethought me of my inability to do anything for my ownsupport, and it was this consciousness that served to weigh me down morethan all else; and yet I felt with what devotion I could serve him whowould but treat me with the kindness he might bestow upon his dog; Ifancied with what zeal I could descend to very slavery for one word ofaffection. The streets were crowded with people; groups were gatheredhere and there, either listening to some mob orator of the day, orhearing the newspapers read aloud. I tried, by forcing my way into thecrowd, to feel myself 'one of them,' and to think that I had my share ofinterest in what was going forward, but in vain. Of the topicsdiscussed I knew nothing, and of the bystanders none even noticedme. High-swelling phrases met the ear at every moment, that soundedstrangely enough to me. They spoke of Fraternity--of that brotherhoodwhich linked man to man in close affection; of Equality--that made allsharers in this world's goods; of Liberty--that gave freedom to everynoble aspiration and generous thought; and for an instant, carried awayby the glorious illusion, I even forgot my solitary condition, and feltproud of my heritage as a youth of France. I looked around me, however,and what faces met my gaze! The same fearful countenances I had seenaround the scaffold--the wretches, blood-stained, and influencedby passion--their bloated cheeks and strained eyeballs glowing withintemperance--their oaths, their gestures--their very voices havingsomething terrible in them. The mockery soon disgusted me, and I movedaway, again to wander about without object or direction through theweary streets. It was past midnight when I found myself, without knowingwhere I was, in a large open space, in the midst of which a solitarylamp was burning. I approached it and, to my horror, saw that it was theguillotine, over which in mournful cadence a lantern swung, creakingits chain as the night wind stirred it. The dim outline of the fearfulscaffold, the fitful light that fell upon the platform, and thesilence-all conspired to strike terror into my heart. All I had solately witnessed seemed to rise up again before me, and the victimsseemed to stand up again, pale, and livid, and shuddering, as last I sawthem.
I knelt down and tried to pray, but terror was too powerful to suffermy thoughts to take this direction, and, half fainting with fear andexhaustion, I lay down upon the ground and slept--slept beneath theplatform of the guillotine. Not a dream crossed my slumber, nor did Iawake till dawn of day, when the low rumbling of the peasants' cartsaroused me, as they were proceeding to the market. I know not why orwhence, but I arose from the damp earth, and looked about me with a moredaring and courageous spirit than I had hitherto felt. It was May--thefirst bright rays of sunshine were slanting along the Place, and thefresh, brisk air felt invigorating and cheering. Whither to? asked I ofmyself, and my eyes turned from the dense streets and thoroughfares ofthe great city to the far-off hills beyond the barrier, and for amoment I hesitated which road to take. I almost seemed to feel as if thedecision involved my whole future fortune--whether I should live and diein the humble condition of a peasant, or play for a great stake inlife. Yes, said I, after a short hesitation, I will remain here--in theterrible conflict going forward, many must be new adventurers, and neverwas any one more greedy to learn the trade than myself. I will throwsorrow behind me. Yesterday's tears are the last I shall shed. Now fora bold heart and a ready will, and here goes for the world! With thesestout words I placed my cap jauntily on one side of my head, and with afearless air marched off for the very centre of the city.
For some hours I amused myself gazing at the splendid shops, or staringin at the richly decorated cafes, where the young celebrities of the daywere assembled at breakfast, in all the extravagance of the newfangledcostume. Then I followed the Guard to the parade at the 'Carrousel,'and listened to the band; quitting which I wandered along the quays,watching the boats as they dragged the river in search of murderedbodies or suicides. Thence I returned to the Palais-Royal and listenedto the news of the day, as read out by some elected enlightener of hiscountrymen.
By what chance I know not, but at last my rambling steps brought meopposite to the great solemn-looking towers of the 'Temple.' The gloomyprison, within whose walls hundreds were then awaiting the fate whichalready their friends had suffered--little groups, gathered here andthere in the open
Place, were communicating to the prisoners by signsand gestures, and from many a small-grated window, at an immense height,handkerchiefs were seen to wave in recognition of those below. Thesesignals seemed to excite neither watchfulness nor prevention--indeed,they needed none; and perhaps the very suspense they excited was atorture that pleased the inhuman gaolers. Whatever the reason, thecustom was tolerated, and was apparently enjoyed at that moment byseveral of the turnkeys, who sat at the windows, much amused at theefforts made to communicate. Interested by the sight, I sat down upon astone bench to watch the scene, and fancied that I could read somethingof the rank and condition of those who signalled from below theirmessages of hope or fear. At last a deep bell within the prison tolledthe hour of noon; and now every window was suddenly deserted. It was thehour for the muster of the prisoners, which always took place beforethe dinner at one o'clock. The curious groups soon after broke up. A fewlingered around the gate, with, perhaps, some hope of admission to visittheir friends; but the greater number departed.
My hunger was now such that I could no longer deny myself thelong-promised meal, and I looked about me for a shop where I might buy aloaf of bread. In my search, I suddenly found myself opposite an immenseshop, where viands of every tempting description were ranged withall that artistic skill so purely Parisian, making up a picture whosecomposition Snyders would not have despised. Over the door was apainting of a miserable wretch, with hands bound behind him, and hishair cut close in the well-known crop for the scaffold; and underneathwas written, 'Au Scelerat'; while on a larger board, in gilt letters,ran the inscription:--
'Boivin Pere et fils, Traiteurs pour MM. les Condamnees.'
I could scarcely credit my eyes, as I read and re-read this infamousannouncement; but there it stood, and in the crowd that pouredincessantly to and from the door, I saw the success that attended thetraffic. A ragged knot were gathered around the window, eagerly gazingat something, which, by their exclamations, seemed to claim all theiradmiration. I pressed forward to see what it was, and beheld a miniatureguillotine, which, turned by a wheel, was employed to chop the meat forsausages. This it was that formed the great object of attraction, evento those to whom the prototype had grown flat and uninteresting.
Disgusted as I was by this shocking sight, I stood watching all thatwent forward within with a strange interest. It was a scene of incessantbustle and movement; for now, as one o'clock drew nigh, various dinnerswere being prepared for the prisoners, while parties of their friendswere assembling inside. Of these latter there seemed persons of everyrank and condition; some, dressed in all the brilliancy of the mode;others, whose garments bespoke direst poverty. There were women, too,whose costume emulated the classic drapery of the ancients, and whodisplayed, in their looped togas, no niggard share of their forms; whileothers, in shabby mourning, sat in obscure corners, not noticing thescene before them, nor noticed themselves. A strange equipage, with twohorses extravagantly bedizened with rosettes and bouquets, stood at thedoor; and, as I looked, a pale, haggard-looking man, whose foppery indress contrasted oddly with his careworn expression, hurried from theshop and sprang into the carriage. In doing so, a pocket-book fell fromhis pocket. I took it up; but as I did so, the carriage was alreadyaway, and far beyond my power to overtake it.
Without stopping to examine my prize, or hesitating for a second, Ientered the restaurant, and asked for M. Boivin.
'Give your orders to me, boy,' said a man busily at work behind thecounter.
'My business is with himself,' said I stoutly.
'Then you 'll have to wait with some patience,' said he sneeringly.
'I can do so,' was my answer, and I sat down in the shop.
I might have been half an hour thus seated, when an enormously fat man,with a huge _bonnet rouge_ on his head, entered from an inner room, andpassing close to where I was, caught sight of me.
'Who are you, sirrah--what brings you here?'
'I want to speak with M. Bouvin.'
'Then speak!' said he, placing his hand upon his immense chest.
'It must be alone,' said I.
'How so, alone, sirrah?' said he, growing suddenly pale; 'I have nosecrets--I know of nothing that may not be told before all the world.'
Though he said this in a kind of appeal to all around, the dubious looksand glances interchanged seemed to make him far from comfortable.
'So you refuse me, then?' said I, taking up my cap and preparing todepart.
'Come hither,' said he, leading the way into the room from which he hademerged. It was a very small chamber, the most conspicuous ornamentsof which were busts and pictures of the various celebrities of theRevolution. Some of these latter were framed ostentatiously, and one,occupying the post of honour above the chimney, at once attractedme, for in a glance I saw that it was a portrait of him who owned thepocket-book, and bore beneath it the name 'Robespierre.'
'Now, sir, for your communication,' said Boivin; 'and take care thatit is of sufficient importance to warrant the interview you have askedfor.'
'I have no fears on that score,' said I calmly, still scanning thefeatures of the portrait, and satisfying myself of their identity.
'Look at me, sir, and not at that picture,' said Boivin.
'And yet it is of M. Robespierre I have to speak,' said I coolly.
'How so--of M. Robespierre, boy? What is the meaning of this? If it be asnare--if this be a trick, you never leave this spot living,' criedhe, as he placed a massive hand on each of my shoulders and shook meviolently.
'I am not so easily to be terrified, citizen,' said I; 'nor have I anysecret cause for fear, whatever you may have. My business is of anotherkind. This morning, in passing out to his carriage, he dropped hispocket-book, which I picked up. Its contents may well be of a kind thatshould not be read by other eyes than his own. My request is, then, thatyou will seal it up before me, and then send some one along with me,while I restore it to its owner.'
'Is this a snare--what secret mischief have we here?' said Boivin, halfaloud, as he wiped the cold drops of perspiration from his forehead.
'Any mishap that follows will depend upon your refusal to do what Iask.'
'How so--I never refused it; you dare not tell M. Robespierre that Irefused, sirrah?'
'I will tell him nothing that is untrue,' said I calmly; for already asense of power had gifted me with composure. 'If M. Robespierre----'
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'Who speaks of me here?' cried the identical personage, as he dashedhurriedly into the room, and then, not waiting for the reply, went on--'You must send out your scouts on every side--I lost my pocket-book as Ileft this a while ago.'
'It is here, sir,' said I, presenting it at once.
'How--where was it found--in whose keeping has it been, boy?'
'In mine only; I took it from the ground the same moment that youdropped it, and then came here to place it in M. Boivin's hands.'
'Who has taken care of it since that time?' continued Robespierre, witha slow and sneering accentuation on every word.
'The pocket-book has never left my possession since it quitted yours,'was my reply.
'Just so,' broke in Boivin, now slowly recovering from his terror. 'Ofits contents I know nothing; nor have I sought to know anything.'
Robespierre looked at me as if to corroborate this statement, and Inodded my head in acquiescence.
'Who is your father, boy?'
'I have none--he was guillotined.'
'His name?'
'Tiernay.'
'Ah, I remember; he was called _l'Irlandais_.'
'The same.'
'A famous Royalist was that same Tiernay, and, doubtless, contrived toleave a heritage of his opinions to his son.'
'He left me nothing--I have neither house, nor home, nor even bread toeat.'
'But you have a head to plan, and a heart to feel, youngster; and it isbetter that fellows like you should not want a dinner. Boivin, look toit that he is taken care of. In a few days I will relieve you of th
echarge. You will remain here, boy; there are worse resting-places, Ipromise you. There are men who call themselves teachers of the people,who would ask no better life than free quarters on Boivin.' And sosaying, he hurriedly withdrew, leaving me face to face with my host.
'So then, youngster,' said Boivin, as he scratched his ear thoughtfully,'I have gained a pensioner! _Parbleu!_ if life were not an uncertainthing in these times, there's no saying how long we might not be blessedwith your amiable company.'
'You shall not be burthened heavily, citizen,' said I: 'let me have mydinner--I have not eaten since yesterday morning, and I will go my wayspeacefully.'
'Which means straight to Robespierre's dwelling, to tell him that I haveturned you out of doors--eh, sirrah?'
'You mistake me much,' said I; 'this would be sorry gratitude for eatenbread. I meant what I said--that I will not be an unwelcome guest, eventhough the alternative be, as it is, something very nigh starvation.'
Boivin did not seem clearly to comprehend the meaning of what I said; orperhaps my whole conduct and bearing puzzled him, for he made no replyfor several seconds. At last, with a kind of sigh, he said-- 'Well,well, it cannot be helped; it must be even as he wished, though the oddsare, he 'll never think more about him. Come, lad, you shall have yourdinner.'
I followed him through a narrow, unlighted passage, which opened intoa room, where, at a long table, were seated a number of men and boys atdinner. Some were dressed as cooks; others wore a kind of grey blouse,with a badge upon the arm, bearing the name 'Boivin' in large letters,and were, as I afterwards learned, the messengers employed to carryrefreshments into the prison, and who, by virtue of this sign, werefreely admitted within the gates.
Taking my place at the board, I proceeded to eat with a voracity thatonly a long fast could have excused; and thus took but little heed ofmy companions, whose solecisms in table etiquette might otherwise haveamused me.
'Art a Marmiton, thou?' asked an elderly man in a cook's cap, as hestared fixedly at me for some seconds.
'No,' said I, helping myself and eating away as before.
'Thou canst never be a commissionaire, friend, with an appetite likethat,' cried another; 'I wouldn't trust thee to carry a casserole to thefire.'
'Nor shall I be,' said I coolly.
'What trade, then, has the good fortune to possess your shiningabilities.'
'A trade that thrives well just now, friend--pass me the flask.'
'Indeed, and what may it be?'
'Can you not guess, citizen,' said I, 'if I tell you that it was nevermore in vogue; and, if there be some who will not follow it, they'llwear their heads just as safely by holding their peace?'
'_Parbleu!_ thou hast puzzled me,' said the chief cook; 'and if thoube'st not a coffin-maker----' A roar of merriment cut short his speech,in which I myself could not but join heartily.
'That is, I know,' said I, 'a thriving business; but mine is evenbetter; and, not to mystify you longer, I 'll just tell you what I am;which is, simply, a friend of the Citizen Robespierre.'
The blow told with full force; and I saw, in the terrified looks thatwere interchanged around the table, that my sojourn amongst them,whether destined to be of short or long duration, would not be disturbedby further liberties. It was truly a reign of terror that same period!The great agent of everything was the vague and shadowy dread of someterrible vengeance, against which precautions were all in vain. Men meteach other with secret misgivings, and parted with the same dreadfuldistrust. The ties of kindred were all broken; brotherly affectiondied out. Existence was become like the struggle for life upon someshipwrecked raft, where each sought safety by his neighbour's doom! Atsuch a time--with such terrible teachings--children became men inall the sterner features of character; cruelty is a lesson so easilylearned.
As for myself, energetic and ambitious by nature, the ascendency myfirst assumption of power suggested was too grateful a passion to berelinquished. The name--whose spell was like a talisman, because now thesecret engine by which I determined to work out my fortune--Robespierrehad become to my imagination like the slave of Aladdin's lamp; andto conjure him up was to be all-powerful Even to Boivin himself thisinfluence extended; and it was easy to perceive that he regarded thewhole narrative of the pocket-book as a mere fable, invented to obtain aposition as a spy over his household.
I was not unwilling to encourage the belief--it added to my importance,by increasing the fear I inspired; and thus I walked indolently about,giving myself those airs of _mouchard_ that I deemed most fitting, andtaking a mischievous delight in the terror I was inspiring.
The indolence of my life, however, soon wearied me, and I began to longfor some occupation, or some pursuit. Teeming with excitement as theworld was--every day, every hour, brimful of events--it was impossibleto sit calmly on the shore, and watch the great, foaming current ofhuman passions, without longing to be in the stream. Had I been a manat that time, I should have become a furious orator of the Mountain--animpassioned leader of the people. The impulse to stand foremost--to takea bold and prominent position--would have carried me to any lengths. Ihad caught up enough of the horrid fanaticism of the time to think thatthere was something grand and heroic in contempt for human suffering;that a man rose proudly above all the weakness of his nature, when, inthe pursuit of some great object, he stifled within his breast everythrob of affection--every sentiment of kindness and mercy. Such were theteachings rife at the time--such the first lessons that boyhoodlearned; and oh! what a terrible hour had that been for humanity ifthe generation then born had grown up to manhood unchastened andunconverted!
But to return to my daily life. As I perceived that a week had nowelapsed, and the Citizen Robespierre had not revisited the 'restaurant,'nor taken any interest in my fate or fortunes, I began to fear lestBoivin should master his terror regarding me, and take heart to put meout of doors--an event which, in my present incertitude, would havebeen sorely inconvenient. I resolved, therefore, to practise a pettydeception on my host, to sustain the influence of terror over him. Thiswas, to absent myself every day at a certain hour, under the pretence ofvisiting my patron; letting fall, from time to time, certain indicationsto show in what part of the city I had been, and occasionally, as ifin an unguarded moment, condescending to relate some piece of populargossip. None ventured to inquire the source of my information--not onedared to impugn its veracity. Whatever their misgivings in secret, tomyself they displayed the most credulous faith. Nor was their trust somuch misplaced, for I had, in reality, become a perfect chronicle of allthat went forward in Paris--never missing a debate in the Convention,where my retentive memory could carry away almost verbally all thatI heard--ever present at every public fete or procession, whether theoccasions were some insulting desecration of their former faith, or sometasteless mockery of heathen ceremonial.
My powers of mimicry, too, enabled me to imitate all the famouscharacters of the period; and in my assumed inviolability, I used toexhibit the uncouth gestures and spluttering utterance of Marat--thewild and terrible ravings of Danton--and even the reedy treble of my ownpatron Robespierre, as he screamed denunciations against the enemiesof the people. It is true these exhibitions of mine were only given insecret to certain parties, who, by a kind of instinct, I felt could betrusted.
Such was my life, as one day, returning from the Convention, I behelda man affixing to a wall a great placard, to which the passing crowdseemed to pay deep attention. It was a decree of the Committee of PublicSafety, containing the names of above seven hundred Royalists, who werecondemned to death, and who were to be executed in three _tournees_, onthree successive days.
For sometime back the mob had not been gratified with a spectacle ofthis nature. In the ribald language of the day, the 'holy guillotine hadgrown thirsty from long drought'; and they read the announcementwith greedy eyes, commenting as they went upon those whose names werefamiliar to them. There were many of noble birth among the proscribed,but by far the greater number were priests, the whole
sum of whoseoffending seemed written in the simple and touching words, _anciencure_, of such a parish! It was strange to mark the bitterness ofinvective with which the people loaded these poor and innocent men, asthough they were the source of all their misfortunes. The lazy indolencewith which they reproached them seemed ten times more offensive in theireyes than the lives of ease and affluence led by the nobility. The factwas, they could not forgive men of their own rank and condition whatthey pardoned in the well born and the noble! an inconsistency that hascharacterised democracy in other situations beside this.
As I ran my eyes down the list of those confined in the Temple, I cameto a name which smote my heart with a pang of ingratitude as well assorrow--the 'Pere Michel Delannois, soi disant cure de St. Blois'--mypoor friend and protector was there among the doomed! If, up to thatmoment, I had made no effort to see him, I must own the reason lay in myown selfish feeling of shame--the dread that he should mark the changethat had taken place in me, a change that I felt extended to all aboutme, and showed itself in my manner as it influenced my every action. Itwas not alone that I lost the obedient air and quiet submissiveness ofthe child, but I had assumed the very extravagance of that democraticinsolence which was the mode among the leading characters of the time.
How should I present myself before him, the very impersonation ofall the vices against which he used to warn me--how exhibit the utterfailure of all his teachings and his hopes? What would this be but toembitter his reflections needlessly. Such were the specious reasons withwhich I fed my self-love, and satisfied my conscience; but now, as Iread his name in that terrible catalogue, their plausibility served meno longer, and at last I forgot myself to remember only him.
'I will see him at once,' thought I, 'whatever it may cost me--I willstay beside him for his last few hours of life; and when he carrieswith him from this world many an evil memory of shame and treachery,ingratitude from me shall not increase the burthen.' And with thisresolve I turned my steps homeward.
Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune Page 2