Thus, both faced the future in happy ignorance of the other’s real thoughts. Fortunately, revelation was not forced upon them. If Michonis had known of them, he went to the guillotine without ever implicating anyone, reiterating that no treason had been intended. Roger could not guess what had happened to de Rocheville. Perhaps he had escaped from the city. All Roger knew was that he heard no more of him and, more important, no more of any further attempts to rescue Marie Antoinette. Her trial began on October twelfth. On the fifteenth she was declared guilty of a number of fanciful crimes, the most disgusting of which was that she had taught her son immoral practices. On the sixteenth, at 12:15 p.m., Marie Antoinette was executed.
If the trial and execution of the queen were meant as a diversion, it failed. Nothing could divert the people of Paris from a situation that grew steadily worse. In September the royalists had given the port of Toulon to the British. Immediately after this, government by terror was publicly declared to be the “business” of the convention. On September seventeenth the Law of Suspected Persons, drafted largely by Robespierre, permitted—or rather encouraged—the immediate arrest of persons whose conduct, associations, talk or writings showed them to be “enemies of liberty”. In addition, all persons who did not have a certificate of citizenship or who could not prove they had “carried out their obligations as citizens”, whatever that meant, were subject to immediate imprisonment.
Safety for Roger and Leonie hung on the thin thread of the goodwill of the commissioners who were his customers and the fact that most of the gendarmes in the Section knew him well. The commissioners themselves were not much safer than the ordinary citizens. They watched each other constantly, wondering whether they should accuse their friends before their friends accused them. Among the bloodiest of the supporters of Robespierre in his concept of government by terror were Joseph Fouché and Pierre Gaspard Chaumette.
Joseph Fouché had been sent to Lyons by the convention when the royalist forces there had been defeated and he had made a sanguinary example of the city. In future the provincial cities would know better than to object to the dictates of the convention. Chaumette had performed a similar duty elsewhere, but Roger knew of him because he was in charge of the commissioners of the Temple, where the dauphin was still imprisoned. The other commissioners spoke about Chaumette sometimes—with glances over their shoulders that betrayed what they thought of him. Still, Roger was not disturbed when Chaumette first came into the shop. Times being what they were, Roger assumed he came to buy a gun, and that was indeed what he asked for.
Roger showed him what he had with easy apologies because it was very little. His main business was repair, he pointed out. It was almost impossible to buy guns now or even the parts from which to manufacture them, and he had nothing for sale except the few pieces confiscated by gendarmes or other officials from persons accused of various crimes. To his surprise, Chaumette did not leave after he had rejected the few weapons Roger had for sale. Instead he looked at Roger measuringly and said, “You are of excellent repute both as a workman and as a citizen, Saintaire.”
“Thank you,” Roger replied briefly, turning away to lock the unwanted pistols into a cupboard.
“I have heard of you from a common friend, Citizen Fouché.”
“He does what little business I need done,” Roger agreed, reluctantly turning back again to face Chaumette. He was worried now. Chaumette was a known and avowed atheist. He could have nothing in common with Fouché, whose daughter devotedly assisted the nuns and priests who had been imprisoned for refusing to set the state above the Church in their loyalties and who had offered herself as a substitute for the queen in the escape plot. It was true that Fouché himself made no parade of his sympathies and that probably Mademoiselle Fouché kept her activities as quiet as possible, particularly since Joseph Fouché was also strongly atheist. That thought clicked in Roger’s mind, and he put it together with the expression of mild surprise on Chaumette’s face and smiled.
“Oh, you much mean Joseph Fouché. I was thinking of Jean-Baptiste Fouché avocat.”
“Yes, Citizen Fouché’s cousin. I know him also. Joseph lodges with him.”
“Yes, I have had the honor of meeting Citizen Joseph Fouché once or twice.”
“So he said. He also said you had a horse and carriage. Is this true?”
“Yes,” Roger replied.
He leaned forward a little, as if he wanted to speak softly while he explained why he happened to have such an equipage, but his real purpose was to level a pistol at Chaumette’s belly under the counter. The ball would be only slightly impeded by the thin wood of the back of the counter, and its impact should double Chaumette up, giving Roger time to shoot him in the head with the other pistol. It was convenient, he thought grimly, that the sound of shots was a frequent, everyday occurrence in his shop and would not bring curious neighbors. The only dangers were that Chaumette’s screams when the first bullet hit him might be heard, and that someone might remember he had entered Roger’s shop and not emerged.
“I am glad to hear it,” Chaumette remarked with every sign or relief on his face, referring to Roger’s excuses for not selling the rig—an act that might easily be construed as a hint of a desire to leave Paris and thus treason, punishable by death. “The necessary severities of the government are making good citizens like yourself needlessly nervous.”
There was, of course, no answer Roger could make to so palpably untrue a remark. The severities of the government were designed to make everyone so nervous as to be paralyzed. However, the statement, coupled with Chaumette’s expression, did keep Roger from pulling the trigger—a forbearance he was to regret bitterly in the future.
“I have heard also,” Chaumette continued, “that you lived for some time in Brittany and had some acquaintance with the fisherman there, those who carry cargo other than fish when it is convenient.”
Roger gaped at him. How in the world could Chaumette have heard that? He did not ever remember saying anything about Pierre to Joseph Fouché. Then he realized that his friend Fouché, Joseph’s cousin, must have heard about Pierre from the clients “on the run” whom Roger had arranged to have smuggled out of the country. Pierre brought them across, but it was through Fouché that Roger had sent them money to live on. Doubtless one or more foolishly had mentioned the smuggler’s vessel on which he had traveled and Fouché, somehow, had passed this information to his cousin, who had passed it to Chaumette.
After his experiment with terror in Lyons, Joseph Fouché had made a mental note that such excesses might result in a backward swing of the pendulum. The whole concept of revolution and republicanism might become abhorrent, inducing a longing for the “good old days” of the monarchy.
Naturally, a real reestablishment of the monarchy would be tantamount to suicide for those who had voted for the death of Louis XVI, and Joseph had so voted, unless… Unless the nine-year-old dauphin could be developed into a monarch who was a fervent republican, convinced of the guilt of his father and mother and willing to be a puppet on the throne to save the revolution. This idea came together with the need for a new direction for the revolution to travel in case the conflict between Danton and Robespierre disrupted the government.
As the days passed, Joseph could see a conflict approaching nearer and nearer. While Robespierre urged a greater and greater intensification of “the Terror”, pressing for more arrests and more executions, Camille Desmoulins, Danton’s friend, had turned about-face and was urging clemency. In the third issue of the Vieux Cordelier he wrote—”Do you really think that these helpless women, these old men, these poor laggards of the Revolution whom you have shut up are dangerous?”
It caused Joseph considerable anxiety to think that copies of this publication on December fifteenth were snatched up by an avid public the instant they appeared. The entire edition was sold out in hours. It was not he who commented on this fact, however, but Chaumette, whom he met in the café devoted to those pushing the cause
of atheism and superiority of the state. It was also Chaumette who hinted that, perhaps, Robespierre was going too far and who remarked somewhat later, as if at random, that he had been to the Temple to see “the boy Capet”.
“Is he well?” Joseph had asked blandly.
It was an innocent question, implying nothing more than polite interest in what his companion had said, but after replying in the affirmative, Chaumette added, “And under Simon’s care, the child is growing to love the revolution better than his own mother and father. Simon is a good warden. He and his wife are really fond of the boy and bring him all kinds of toys and treat him with kindness. This cannot be pretended. The child recognizes it and he, in turn, will do almost anything to please Simon.”
“I am very happy to hear this,” Joseph remarked, with a spark of genuine interest and enthusiasm in his pale eyes.
“Yes, I think it of great importance that the boy be kept in good health and that he be instructed in the revolutionary faith. I have taken good care that he should be completely separated from those who might vitiate his mind or weaken his republican principles and that no harm should come to him.”
Again Joseph agreed, with rather more heartiness than his usual tepid approval—and not long after that he mentioned, quite casually, that his cousin did business with a Citizen Saintaire, a gunsmith who lived near Temple. The man, who owned a horse and carriage stabled by his cousin, had lived in Brittany and was well acquainted with the fishermen—who sometimes carried other cargo—of that place.
Roger’s name was already familiar to Chaumette. He had been mentioned more than once by the gendarmes who guarded the Temple and by those commissioners who carried pistols. Joseph’s comment merely remained an odd fact in Chaumette’s mind for a day or two—a coincidence that Joseph Fouché’s cousin should do business with a gunsmith who lived only one short street from the Temple. Five days later, however, a new edition of the Vieux Cordelier, of which far more copies were printed, was snatched up even faster. Almost immediately afterward Desmoulins was openly attacked by Robespierre himself.
Battle was joined—clemency versus terror—and Chaumette began to consider, as the more prescient Joseph had earlier, where the alternatives might lead. Obviously, either Robespierre or Danton had to die. Danton seemed the weaker of the two, but if he managed to turn the tables, the reign of the sans-culottes would be finished. Perhaps the republic would be maintained, but more likely the bourgeoisie would hold power, and it was not impossible that they would seek the reestablishment of a limited monarchy. That would mean the boy Capet, the dauphin, would be king.
On the other hand, Robespierre was far more likely to triumph. That would mean more and more executions, but they could not go on forever or there would soon be no people left to execute. When the flood of blood receded, there would be a reaction. Chaumette did not forget how, a few months after the massacres of September second, everyone wanted to blame someone else for them and be dissociated from what had happened. If the reaction were strong enough—again the result might be a reestablishment of the monarchy.
Chaumette pursed his lips. In either case, whoever held Louis-Charles Capet would hold the balance of power, it would be best if that essential pawn were not available to anyone but Chaumette himself. The first step in this direction was for Chaumette to complain in public to Simon that he was coddling the young Capet too much and then, in private, confide that he was being urged to use harsh, even cruel, measures to destroy the boy’s health. He was rewarded by an expression of horror. Simon had, as Chaumette believed, come to love his charge. In a short time Chaumette had convinced Simon that the only safety for Louis-Charles lay in hiding him where “certain others” could not get to him.
Circumstances, or perhaps circumstances assisted by a word here or there, came to Chaumette’s aid. On January 3, 1793, the commune suddenly decided that it was not right for any commissioner to hold two jobs. Simon could not be both the elected representative of his district and mentor of the boy Capet. Several other commissioners were involved, and they resigned the positions they held in the Temple at once. Simon followed suit with very little delay, although now he was utterly convinced that “enemies of the revolution” desired Louis-Charles’ death.
On January fifth, Simon moved out of the rooms he had been occupying in the Temple itself, although he had not yet officially resigned his post. He was, despite de Rocheville’s remarks, a man of shrewd mind and considerable manual dexterity. Most of his time was spent in fashioning a special vehicle to transport his “belongings” from the Temple to his own house and in mending a pasteboard horse for young Capet to play with. No one was surprised that Simon was unusually taciturn or that his expression was particularly grim. Several people had heard the boy pleading to be taken along, sobbing, “Simon, my dear Simon, take me with you to your shop. You can teach me to make shoes, and I will pass for your son.”
Thus, on January seventh, having made all the other arrangements that would serve his purpose, Chaumette was in Roger’s shop, asking about Roger’s acquaintance with Breton fishermen. This question, coupled with the previous question about his horse and carriage, could have only one meaning. Roger’s hand relaxed and he let go of the gun he was holding as he nodded. Either Chaumette wished to escape from France himself or he wished to arrange for someone else’s escape. Nonetheless, it was necessary to be careful in what he said.
“You have heard more than was true in one way,” Roger replied. “I was, at one time, friendly with one man who owned a fishing boat. I have not heard from him in a year. However, I am almost sure that my friend will have spoken of me to his friends, so perhaps it would be true to say that I have friends among the fishermen.”
“What is his name and village?” Chaumette asked. “There have been disorders in Brittany. I will inquire about your friend.”
Roger’s hand gripped the pistol again. “He is a clever man, my friend, and not likely to be caught by trouble. I will not tell you his name or the name of his village or the name of his ship. If you have business that requires a horse and carriage and the use of a Breton fisherman who carries cargos other than fish, I will try to discharge the business for you, but I will tell you nothing.”
Chaumette was accustomed to power by now and very accustomed to dealing with accused and imprisoned men. He did not bother to try threats or promises to obtain the information he had requested. Something in Roger’s eyes, in the set of his jaw, announced that either device would useless. Besides, Chaumette did not need the information now. It would come to him in the natural course of the events he had planned.
“Yes, I have business. There is a child I wish to have removed to safety.” Before he could control his expression, surprise flashed across Roger’s face, and his breath caught a little. Chaumette frowned. “You are quick to perceive what I would have preferred you did not notice. Well, you will be just as quick to perceive that too much has already been said for me to take any chance. There is nothing to fear. Just do as you are told and you will be richly rewarded.”
Wordlessly, Roger nodded and released the gun. Doubtless if Chaumette had planned to broach this topic, there were already men watching the shop, and at the same time if must be true there was no present danger for him or for Leonie. Later… Roger set that worry aside. It was immediately apparent that Chaumette was a man who regarded his own interests as paramount. Whoever held the dauphin, held one last trump card in case all went awry. Roger was sure he would have no chance to betray this plot—not that he wanted to. As long as Chaumette did not know Pierre’s name or village, Roger would have to take the child there himself. He only half listened as Chaumette confirmed that facts he had already deduced, adding that Roger should go on with his business in the ordinary way, except that when he left his house he would be accompanied and that a man would remain in the house during the day to be sure he did not, by accident, let slip a word about the trip he would soon be taking.
“There is one thing,” Roger
said. “I know nothing about children, but my wife has young brothers. It would be best, I think, if my wife accompanied us.”
“Oh, certainly,” Chaumette agreed instantly. “I always intended that—a family party.”
“And you have not said where you want my friend to take the child.”
“As to that—perhaps nowhere. You will be employed by this friend, you and your son—or your young brother-in-law, whichever seems more reasonable. You will wait in the village, or go out on the boat as necessary, until you hear from me or until I come. If there are searches of the village by official parties, you will take the child on a fishing trip.”
Roger bit his lip. “This is a bad season for such things,” he growled, trying to seem a little unwilling.
Actually, he was terrified that the joy he felt would somehow show through the guard he was setting on his face and voice. Doubtless Chaumette intended to send guards along. The men might even have instructions to kill him and Leonie as soon as they made contact with Pierre, but Roger doubted they would go that far. Presumably Chaumette realized that such an action would hardly make Roger’s friend cooperative. Whatever Chaumette planned, however, it was almost certain that the guards he sent would know nothing about the sea. Even if they did, Roger would lay heavy odds that Pierre knew a lot more. Accidents could happen very easily to those who were unwelcome passengers aboard a ship, and then—heigh-ho for England!
The English Heiress (Heiress, Book One) Page 33