While all this was going on, the dispute with the Assembly regarding the future of the King was continued by a number of deputations. The Commune accepted the proposal for a Conventional Assembly to replace the Legislative, but rejected the suggestion that the King should be lodged in the Luxembourg, on the grounds that it had secret passages leading from its cellars which might be used for his escape. Further, it boldly asserted that the Commune was the proper body to be given the custody of the Royal Family.
At nine o’clock in the evening, having spent the intervening hours in cheering at the right times and voting by raising his hand whenever a majority did so, Roger went to the Assembly.
There, he learned that the Girondins Roland, Clavière and Servan had been recalled to serve as Ministers in a Provisional Government, with Dumouriez’s late subordinate, Lebrun, at the Foreign Office, and that, as a sop to the extremists, Danton had been made Minister of Justice. With a mirthless grin Roger thought of the old saying about the tail wagging the dog, as he had no doubt at all that the voracious Danton would eat up his crooked but timorous colleagues in no time at all.
The Royal Family had spent another awful day in the reporters’ box, and were still there listening to the dispute about what should be done with them. It had just been proposed that they should be lodged at the Hôtel de la Chancellerie in the Place Vendôme, but the Commune had not yet given its views on this, and it was now unlikely that the matter would be settled until the following day; so they were led off to spend another night in the Feuillants.
After waiting for a quarter of an hour, Roger left the Assembly and walked round the corner to the convent. His sash proved the passport he had expected, and no one attempted to stop him as he entered. He told a National Guard officer whom he met in the hall that he wished to assure himself that the Royal Family could not escape. The officer deferentially explained to him the system of guards that had been arranged, then led him to the end of a corridor and pointed down it to four cells that had been allotted to his charges. The corridor, however, was not empty: it was occupied by the gentlemen who had managed to remain with the King, and by several of the royal servants, who were making up shakedowns for themselves on the floor for the night.
Roger had been toying with the idea of asking Dan to collect his squad and a coach and returning with them in the early hours of the morning, but he saw now that any attempt to carry off the Royal Family in their present circumstances must prove hopeless. All their loyal retainers would clamour to accompany them, then, unless they had been officially informed that they were to be entirely deprived of attendants, they would probably refuse to leave until the matter had been referred to a higher authority; and that would be the end of Citizen Commissioner Breuc.
From the Feuillants he went back to the Hôtel de Ville and put in a couple of hours at a midnight sitting, during which the proposal to lodge the Royal Family in the Hôtel de la Chancellerie was rejected and a counter-proposal carried that they should be taken to the Temple, an ancient building in northern Paris not far from Roger’s Section, which belonged to the Comte d’Artois.
The next day was a Sunday, but that did not mean any break in the sittings of public bodies; so, after sleeping again at the Cushion and Keys, Roger attended the Commune, arriving about ten o’clock in the morning. The Assembly had rejected the suggestion regarding the Temple, so the matter had now been referred to a Commission; but the point at issue had emerged more clearly—the Assembly wished to save the prestige of the Throne by interning the King in a palace, whereas the Commune wished to put him in a prison.
During the day the Commune pressed on with its now quasi-legal seizure of power and measures to crush any resistance to its will. By its decree all reactionary journals were suppressed; and, as the Assembly had sent Commissioners to the armies requiring them to take an oath of fidelity to the new Provisional Government, the Commune now despatched Commissioners to the Jacobin cells among the troops, to inform them that Louis XVI was overthrown and that there was no fear of treachery at home because the Commune of Paris was watching over the Assembly.
In the late afternoon Roger felt like stretching his legs, so he took the slightly longer route to the Assembly by way of the quays and the Tuileries gardens. The Sunday crowds were entirely pacific and were mainly composed of people who had come in from the country out of curiosity. Those who were morbid-minded had ample opportunity to satisfy their ghoulishness, as no attempt had been made to clear away the evidence of Friday’s horrible excesses. Every tree was surrounded by piles of empty bottles, and within fifty yards of where the new Government of France was sitting still lay the naked bodies of the murdered Swiss, now covered with flies and stinking with putrefaction after three days in the hot sun.
In the Press box at the Assembly the Royal Family were enduring their third long day of suspense, but the Commission had not yet given its recommendation on their fate, and was rumoured to be quarrelling violently. Roger had reached the conclusion that his only chance of spiriting the prisoners away would occur when a definite decision had been reached. Then, when everybody was expecting their removal, he might be able to forestall the officials charged with escorting them to their new domicile, and whisk them off into hiding.
It now seemed unlikely that they would be removed until next day, as, wherever they were to be taken, a few hours would be needed to make arrangements for their reception; but a decision might be reached that night, so he felt that he ought to have the preparations for his attempt completed by dawn.
After only a short visit to the Assembly he left again. Outside, in the Passage des Feuillants, he slipped behind an outjutting wall, removed his tricolore sash and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, in the Rue St. Honoré, he hailed a cab and was driven out to M. de Talleyrand’s charming little house at Passy.
As he had expected, the grey-haired butler, Antoine Velot, and his plump, elderly wife, Marie, who for many years had been the Bishop’s cook, were its only occupants. The pink-cheeked old man was delighted to see Roger again and said that he had been expecting a visit from him for some weeks, as his master had written in June to say that M. le Chevalier was returning to Paris and might make use of the house.
Roger sent him to find his wife, then asked the couple if they would be willing to risk very grave trouble, and possibly their lives, by hiding in the house a noble family who stood in danger of death from the revolutionary authorities. Velot smiled at his wife, who nodded, then he replied:
“M. le Chevalier, Marie and I have had our lives, and we have passed them happily in the service of gracious people. I see no future for old folks like ourselves now that the canaille have become the masters; so if we should lose them that would not be too much to pay for the many kindnesses we have received from our good nobility.”
“Well said, mon vieux,” Roger smiled back; “I felt sure I could rely on you. I hope to bring my friends here tomorrow night, and we shall be a party of five or maybe six; so please have beds made up and get in food for that number. We shall be here a week at least, perhaps longer, as it will take me some time to make arrangements to get these unfortunate people to the coast. Do you think they could remain here for that length of time without their presence being suspected?”
Old Marie waved a hand towards the window that looked on to a leafy garden. “Why not, Monsieur? All our best rooms are at the back of the house: provided they occupy only those, no one will see them through the windows. No one ever calls on us now that Monseigneur l’Évêque is abroad. One of our next-door neighbours has already emigrated, and on the other side we have an elderly couple who live very quietly.”
“What you tell me is most reassuring,” Roger nodded. Then for a while they chatted of the good days, when the house had always been filled with merry people, and of the Bishop’s famous buffet breakfasts, which had been such a feature of the old intellectual life of Paris. Before leaving he gave them some money, with a caution to buy the food required at shops some distance
off where they were not known, then he drove back to Paris.
From the café near La Belle Étoile, in which he had made arrangements with Dan before moving to the Cushion and Keys, he sent a message to him; and when Dan joined him there they discussed matters in low voices over a bottle of Anjou.
Dan reported that during the past week he had secured three more adherents and could, had he wished, have sounded many others with good prospects, as all the better men in the National Guard were openly resentful of the insults put upon the King; but he had thought it wiser not to increase the number further, as every extra man meant an additional risk of betrayal. With Roger and himself they would now be a round dozen, including two sergeants and a corporal, and he went on to describe each man’s background.
When he had finished, Roger praised him for his zeal and caution, then gave him his instructions. He said that they would need a coach with two fast horses, which could be obtained from Blanchard’s yard. Dan was to ask for a volunteer to drive it, making it clear that the risk involved in this particular job would be much greater than that for the others. The driver was to wear civilian clothes and bring the coach to the cul-de-sac behind the Church of St. Roche soon after dawn next day; the others, in uniform, were to join him there. Dan was to check their arrival, then come round to the porch of the church and wait for Roger; and, as Dan was to play the part of a second Commissar, he was to get himself a piece of broad tricolore ribbon and make a sash of it for use when required.
They talked for a while of the crisis, finished their wine, then impulsively shook hands—as the silent English way of expressing their trust in one another for the dangerous venture to which they were now committed—and parted. By ten o’clock Roger, once more wearing his scarf of office, was back at the Commune.
During his absence the session had been notified by the Assembly that its Commission could not reach agreement about the disposal of the King; so the Commune, now feeling itself strong enough to take the law into its own hands, had replied with a peremptory message to the effect that it would stand for no further evasions, and had decided that the Royal Family must be surrendered to it next day for transfer to the Temple.
Everyone realised that this would provoke a real test of strength between the two bodies; so the occupants of the Chamber were in a state of voluble excitement that prevented the introduction of any other serious business. Santerre was there talking to Rossignol and, taking them aside for a drink, Roger put out the suggestion that the best way to deal with the Assembly was to ignore it, and to go and collect the King themselves.
As he had felt sure would prove the case, they were much too cowardly to engage themselves in such a risky undertaking. They hurriedly shelved the proposal by replying that they thought the idea an excellent one, but that before carrying it out it would be better to wait until the Assembly had shown the attitude it meant to take to the note sent it that evening.
Having planted the idea in their minds, Roger talked to them on other matters; then, finding that his own mind now refused to concentrate for any length of time on anything other than nervous speculations connected with his proposed coup, he used the temporary suspension of the debate as an excuse to go home early.
Half an hour before dawn next day he was up and dressed. He went first to the Commune, where he learned that no reply had yet been received to the challenge it had sent the Assembly; next he kept his appointment with Dan in the porch of St. Roche. He told him that as nothing had been settled they might have to hang about all day; so he should prepare his men accordingly, and send two of them straight off to buy a good supply of food and drink so that it would not be necessary for them to leave the vicinity of the coach later. Then he crossed the Rue St. Honoré, walked the two hundred yards along it to the entrance of the Passage des Feuillants, and so to the Assembly.
There, only routine business was being dealt with; no more than a hundred members were present and many of them were sound asleep. Gradually the Chamber and the public galleries began to fill up. At eight o’clock the Royal Party was brought in and, for the fourth day, installed in the box on the dais behind the President’s desk; shortly afterwards the debate on their future was resumed
To Roger, now almost jittery with nerves at the thought of the self-appointed task that lay before him, the long, windy speeches of the deputies were positive torture. They quoted Rousseau by the yard, spoke of the purity of their own intentions, of the virtues of the People, of the wickedness of the King in using the veto they had given him, and openly accused the Queen of conspiring with France’s enemies, but few of them would commit themselves on the point at issue, further than to assert half-heartedly that it was for them and not the Commune to decide the matter.
At midday a strong deputation from the Commune appeared and was received at the bar of the house. Several of its members also spoke of the People’s virtues, and of their own, but they also showed a grim determination to carry through the mission they had been sent upon. At half-past one the Assembly, cowed by the menacing demeanour and open threats of the Commissars, gave way. It was agreed that the Sovereigns should be lodged in the Temple and that the Commune of Paris be given the responsibility for their safe-keeping.
The Royal Party was then led from their box, but Roger knew that a considerable time must elapse before arrangements could be made to convey them to their new quarters, and he dared not be too precipitate.
While he waited one thought came to cheer him a little. His chance of being allowed to remove the Royal Family from the Feuillants in the middle of the day was much greater than it would have been during the night or very early in the morning, as the audacity of making the attempt when the maximum number of people were about would render it less likely to be suspected.
On the other hand he would be deprived of the friendly darkness, under cover of which the coach might have vanished without trace before a hue and cry started; and in daylight it would be much too risky to drive straight out to Passy, as scores of people might notice the coach en route and afterwards inform pursuers which way it had gone. But those factors would have had to be faced had he had no alternative but to make the attempt at dawn, so he had already decided on a plan which he hoped would fox the pursuers if only he could manage a clear quarter of an hour’s start.
For the first few hundred yards the coach would have to proceed at a walking pace so that Dan’s squad, marching on either side, could keep up with it; and he meant it to set off northwards, across the Place Vendôme, as though going to the Temple. But as soon as it got through the square it would turn west instead of east and, once round the corner, break into a smart trot, leaving the guards behind. By turning down the Boulevard de la Madeleine, it should be able to reach the quiet streets to the north of the Champs Elysées within five minutes. Thence he meant to head for the Bois de Boulogne, and if he could reach it without being overtaken he reckoned they would be fairly safe. At a quiet spot his companions would leave the coach and hide with him in one of the dense thickets there for the rest of the day, while it was driven on out into the country. With luck it might get clear away, but if caught the driver was to say that his passengers had transferred to a six-horse coach that had been waiting for them at the Place de Neuilly. No one would ever suppose that the Royal Family had alighted in order to walk, but that was what he was determined they should do for the last couple of miles of their journey; and he felt confident that once he had convinced the brave Queen of the honesty of his intentions she would make no bones about it. Thus, by bringing them through the Bois to the quiet village of Passy, which lay on its south-eastern outskirts, after darkness had fallen, he hoped to get them safely to their hiding-place without anyone having the faintest idea where to look for them.
At two o’clock Roger left the Assembly, and five minutes later was in the church porch giving Dan his final instructions. He explained his whole plan, then said, “You can now join your squad and tell them that we are about to rescue the Royal Family. Ma
ke the coachman repeat twice the route he is to take; but you are not to tell any of them about the house at Passy. When the church clock strikes the half hour, you are to put on your sash, get in the coach and drive down the street to the entrance of the Feuillants Passage; the guard will escort you on foot. There the coach will halt, you will get out, and the squad will march behind you down the passage to the main door of the convent. I shall be there waiting for you. The men will line up on either side of the door, and we shall go inside. While they are waiting for us they are not to enter into conversation with anybody. If they are asked what they are doing there, the senior sergeant is to reply that they form part of General Santerre’s headquarters guard and were sent with you from the Hotel de Ville. When we appear with our prisoners it is of the utmost importance that the squad should remain absolutely wooden and show no mark of respect for the King. They will form up on either side of the Party, escort it to the coach, and escort the coach until it has passed out of the Place Vendôme; then they should disperse as quickly as possible. Finally, you must impress upon them that the success of the plan depends almost entirely on their adhering absolutely to their orders. If anything does go wrong while we are inside the convent I shall make some remark to you, addressing you as Citizen Commissioner. If I do that your job is to get out as quickly as you can, march the men to the coach, pile them into it, drive off, and disperse them as soon as you are at a safe distance. Is that all clear?”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Dan touched his forelock, grinned and turned away.
As soon as he had disappeared round the corner, Roger went back into the Rue St. Honoré and entered a café. He knew that he might not have a meal for hours, so ought to eat something, but he was much too wrought up to tackle more than a ham roll, and that he got down only with the aid of a double cognac.
The Man who Killed the King Page 21