The Man who Killed the King

by Dennis Wheatley

  For company he had the congenial and trusty Dan as, although it was not de rigueur for Revolutionary officials to go about attended by private servants, the more intelligent of them employed secretaries; and Dan was now filling that rôle. The fact that his writing was slow and awkward mattered little, as his post was that of personal assistant rather than scribe; and for the former no man could have been suited better than the shrewd, capable ex-captain of smugglers. In the past three months he had had ample opportunity to acquire all the revolutionary jargon; and while his hatred of the terrorists, equalled Roger’s no one could possibly have guessed it. In fact, Roger was counting on him to lend the authentic touch to their mission when they had to deal with the Soldiers’ Councils.

  During the past month Roger had noted with interest that, with the one exception of Marat, the most violent of his colleagues in the Commune were by no means the dirtiest. Hébert, who vomited obscenities under the name of Père Duchesne in a paper he edited specially designed to pander to the lusts of the sans-culottes, was actually a fashionably-dressed young man of deceptively mild appearance; Billaud-Varennes, who had egged on the mob with money and wine to its worst atrocities in the September massacres, habitually wore a carefully-curled black wig and a lace-edged coat of puce satin; Robespierre, the most ruthless of them all, was always impeccably clad and was notorious for the spotlessness of his linen. So Roger had felt that the time was coming when he could afford once more to modify his appearance without any risk of losing revolutionary caste. He disliked the inconvenience of shaving only twice a week, and ill-fitting clothes; and this change of employment provided him with an excellent opportunity to shed the last traces of the personality he had assumed for his grim apprenticeship to Santerre.

  He was, therefore, once again wearing his own well-cut garments and, apart from his tricolore sash, his only concession to revolutionary fashion was a huge, violently-coloured, red, white and blue woollen cockade that he wore in his hat. The moderates usually wore only small cockades made of silk or cotton and dyed in pale colours. It should, however, be added that his return to cleanliness, and even to a degree of elegance, was not entirely governed by his own inclination. He was convinced that a man like Dumouriez was much more likely to be impressed by a representative having the appearance of a coldly ruthless intellectual than by an out-at-elbows demagogue. Dan, on the other hand, with his burly figure, black beard, and gold earrings, could, when he chose, look as formidable as any fédérés’ leader.

  When they took the road for Châlons, side by side on two excellent mounts commandeered from the Royal stables, they presented a strange contrast; but Roger had good hopes that their very diversity of appearance, coupled with obvious common aims, would prove the strongest possible card in the difficult task of instilling fear and obedience in a half-mutinous army.

  As they did not leave Paris until midday, they contented themselves with a thirty-mile stage and slept at La Férte that night. Next morning they were off early, and reached Montmirail by ten o’clock, to learn the most surprising news: a major battle had taken place the previous day in which the French had proved victorious. Roger could hardly credit it, but the news was confirmed at other towns along the road, and when they arrived at Châlons that evening they were able to secure eye-witness accounts of the battle.

  Châlons was the headquarters of a reserve army that was forming; and the sight of the ragged, ill-armed and totally undisciplined fédérés with which the town was swarming made it more difficult than ever to believe that an army largely composed of similar raw material could possibly have defeated crack troops, the bulk of whom must have served under Frederick the Great. However, it soon became clear to Roger that it was not a battle in the real sense of the word that had taken place. It had, in fact, been almost entirely an artillery action, and was to go down in history as “the Cannonade of Valmy”; but its effect was out of all proportion to the casualties sustained, as it was the first clash of major forces in the war, and this success of the Army of the Revolution both enormously strengthened French morale and filled every crowned head in Europe with sudden fears for the future.

  The credit for the victory lay equally with Dumouriez’s good generalship and an element in the French army which had escaped the undermining influence of the Revolution. When Brunswick began to penetrate the Argonne, Dumouriez had been at Valenciennes. By a rapid and daring flank march he had deployed his army in front of the invaders, at the same time calling Kellermann’s army from Metz to his assistance; he had thus succeeded in blocking the road to Paris with forces superior to those of the enemy. Even so, victory would almost certainly have gone to the Prussians had the columns and squadrons come into serious conflict; that they did not was due to the excellence of the French artillery—an arm in which France had long been counted superior to all other nations. This corps, and the engineers, unlike the French cavalry and infantry, had always been officered by men mainly of bourgeois birth; so they had not been driven into seeking refuge abroad, but had remained with their batteries, maintaining in them the old high standard of discipline and training. In consequence, the slaughter caused by the guns at Valmy against the massed ranks of the Prussians had appeared so formidable to Brunswick that he had broken off the battle and fallen back.

  At Châlons, Roger learned that Dumouriez’s headquarters were situated in a village a few miles to the north-east of the town; so on the morning of the 22nd he and Dan set out for it. As they rode he thought over what little he knew of the General, and recalled de Talleyrand saying of him, when speaking of the Girondin Ministry in which Dumouriez had held the portfolio for Foreign Affairs:

  “He has more personality and energy than the rest of them put together, but I neither like nor trust him. Both as a soldier and secret agent he has travelled considerably; so he knows far more than his colleagues about international affairs, and is capable of acting the great man in a manner that deceives most people into believing him to be one; but he does not deceive me. He is a clever little upstart; an adventurer lacking both principles and ideals, who sees in the Revolution only a God-sent opportunity to feather his own nest. His singleness of purpose, audacity and talent for intrigue have already carried him a long way; but he is not a member of any political party, and playing a lone hand is a dangerous game; so whether he will prove equal to staying the course remains to be seen.”

  To the shrewd Bishop’s assessment Roger was now able to add certain particulars gleaned during his three months in Paris. Dumouriez was fifty-three years old, and had been greatly attached to Mirabeau; but he was much more of a radical and, to curry favour with the enragés, had appeared in the Jacobin Club wearing the bonnet rouge of a sans-culotte whilst a Minister of the Crown; yet, in spite of that, he had won the personal liking of Louis XVI—firstly because he spoke to the King with complete freedom, as if they were friends and equals; secondly because he had enlivened the dreary meetings of the Royal Council by producing an endless fund of amusing stories.

  On the evidence to hand, Roger decided that the General might prove very dangerous, as he was evidently in the habit of concealing his real designs under the appearance of being “all things to all men”; but Roger was well practised in playing that game too, and he hoped that his host would be much too involved in military matters to take more than a cursory interest in his own activities.

  When he arrived at the small château that Dumouriez had made his headquarters, he found that the General was out; but on his return at midday their first interview passed off very satisfactorily. Dumouriez proved to be a small, wiry man with a square face and big, lively eyes under heavy brows that nearly met over the bridge of a fleshy nose. As soon as he had seen Roger’s credentials he treated him with the same breezy cordiality that had so fascinated the King, declared himself the loyal servant of the Assembly, and asked his visitor to join him for dinner.

  During the meal Roger gave him the latest news from Paris and, tactfully but firmly, spoke of the implica
tions of his mission. He added that although he had received his orders before the General’s brilliant victory at Valmy, that did not relieve, him of his responsibility to investigate the political soundness of the army; but he hoped nevertheless that his work would prove a help rather than a hindrance to its Commander.

  The General replied with apparent candour that he welcomed the investigation, and would give the Citizen Representative every facility to make it. He then attached to Roger one of his aides-de-camp, a tall, thin young man named Vebord, with orders to take him to every regiment in turn; but after the meal he drew his guest into a corner and said with a sudden intenseness that suggested genuine concern:

  “I trust, Citizen, that when exercising your powers you will discriminate between the liberty of action that any individual is entitled to claim while a civilian, and the obligations into which he enters when he becomes a serving soldier. Cases will be brought before you of men who have abused the doctrines of equality in order to set themselves up in opposition to their superiors in military rank. To encourage such conduct would be disastrous, whereas to make an example of them would contribute greatly to the general effectiveness of the army. Again, I trust that you will not unduly molest my officers who happen to be of gentle birth. If you find evidence that some are likely to prove traitors, I should be the last to defend such people; but remember that I am desperately short of men trained to leadership, and that by weakening the army from purely political motives you may bring the Revolution itself into danger.”

  No policy could have suited Roger’s book better; but he was too cautious to show it, and replied with a sanctimonious air, “The purity of political convictions can become the most deadly blade in your armoury, Citizen General, and I have been sent to sharpen it for you. Nevertheless, your signal success at Valmy entitles you to make these requests, and I will observe them in so far as they do not conflict with my duty.”

  Next morning the news came through that on the 21st the National Convention had held its first sitting; all parties had united in voting for the abolition of the Monarchy, and France had been proclaimed a Republic. By the same courier there arrived official congratulations from the Convention to the Army and its General on their victory of the 20th. As Citizen Representative en mission it fell to Roger to make these announcements to the troops, so he spent the day with Dumouriez, riding from camp to camp and proclaiming again and again, until his voice was hoarse, these epoch-making despatches. The news soon spread before them like wildfire; wherever they appeared bands played, flags flew, and the hollow squares of hastily-paraded men showed by their cheers that few of them had any regrets for the final passing of the old Order.

  This semi-regal progress gave Roger an opportunity to appreciate the garrulous little General’s extraordinary energy and immense capacity for tackling swiftly every kind of problem that his subordinates put to him. It also served as a perfect means of introducing Roger to the army, and during it he made his arrangements with the colonel of each regiment. He gave orders that they should bring before him at a drumhead court martial all officers, N.C.O.s and men against whom they had a complaint of any kind; then during the days that followed he left General Headquarters every morning with Dan and Vebord to conduct so bloody an assize that it would have made even Judge Jeffreys pale.

  On receiving the instruction of the all-powerful Comité de Surveillance he had realised at once that he must either accept the mission or abandon for good the identity which he had built up with such care; and it was that alone which was enabling him to supply Mr. Pitt with really valuable information about the personalities and probable developments of the Revolution. Repugnant as the task might be, it was clear where his duty lay, and he was comforted somewhat by the thought that there were plenty of men in the army whose crimes would have sent them to the scaffold during any period of normal law and order. His problem was, on scant evidence and a few minutes’ questioning, to sort the wheat from the chaff, so that only those who deserved death should be condemned; but he had thought out a way of dealing with this awful responsibility that greatly eased his conscience.

  Nearly all the men brought before him by the colonels were charged either with cowardice in the face of the enemy, fomenting mutiny or using threats against their officers. Most of the cowards Roger let off with a reprimand, as he had no desire at all to strengthen the morale of the revolutionary army, and secretly hoped that the same men would start other panics among their comrades in the future. Of each man in the other two categories, having heard what he had to say, he asked the question, “What service have you rendered to the Revolution?”

  Almost invariably the prisoners fell into the trap, and boasted of horrible crimes they had committed in the past three years during outbreaks of violence in their home towns. He was then able to shake his head and say, “That is not enough to excuse your recent conduct. You have imperilled the safety of the nation by weakening the efficiency of the army; I condemn you to be shot.”

  Against his verdict there was no appeal; the wretches were immediately dragged away behind a barn or haystack and executed by a firing squad that had been provided for the purpose. In a week Roger had exacted vengeance on over 150 self-confessed murderers, and his ruthlessness—in what Dumouriez considered to be the right direction—had earned him the esteem and confidence of the General.

  During the ten days that had elapsed since Valmy the opposing armies had lain sullenly confronting one another, owing to a temporary armistice which had been arranged between their commanders to allow for the burial of the dead and the exchange of prisoners; but now hostilities recommenced. Dumouriez told Roger that, in spite of the greatly improved morale of his troops on account of their recent victory, he did not yet consider them sufficiently reliable to risk a general battle; so he intended to train and season them in a constant series of small engagements. Brunswick, too, was evidently averse to again risking his columns against the French artillery, for the Prussians began a slow withdrawal.

  As the French moved forward at an equally discreet pace, Roger became daily more conscious that he must do something about a problem that had worried him from the beginning. He was dealing with the troops in a manner satisfactory both to himself and to Dumouriez; but what of the officers? If he could not report on his return to Paris that he had weeded out the reactionaries, Robespierre would charge him with being one himself, and he already stood in some danger of being denounced in a letter to Paris from one of the Jacobin cells. Dan, who kept him well informed on such matters, had warned him more than once that the sans-culotte element among the soldiery was raging against him in secret for his drastic treatment of mutineers, and that only the fact of his having had so many of their leaders executed kept them from organising a revolt with the object of bringing about his death.

  By the 5th of October he felt that he dared not delay longer in taking some form of drastic action; so that night he wrote out an order informing the Jacobin cells that, having dealt with indiscipline throughout the army, he was now prepared to hear all complaints that the men had to make against their officers.

  Dumouriez flew into a passion and refused to circulate the order; but Roger told him that if he did not, and it came to the ears of the Comité, they would deprive him of his command. As the voluble little General’s dominant characteristic was ambition, he gave way, and next morning Roger set about his uncongenial task.

  By that time they had reached St. Ménehould, so he commandeered an office in the Town Hall, and summoned the Soldiers’ Councils, one by one, to attend there. As they were in no position to arrest the officers of whom they complained, he was spared the necessity of pronouncing any immediate judgments; he simply greeted each group of visitors with revolutionary sentiments of a violence which surprised and delighted them, then had their depositions taken down and promised a full investigation of each case.

  Actually, he had no intention of making further investigations into any of the cases, as the only thing which rea
lly concerned him was that the Jacobins must be appeased by the removal of the officers whom they hated most. Instead, he judged each case as he heard it, decided then and there what he would have done had he really been a dyed-in-the-wool revolutionary, and marked his list with ticks, crosses, and circles accordingly.

  By the 14th he had finished his enquiry, and moved on to join Dumouriez, who had advanced his headquarters to Varennes. That evening, after dinner, Roger showed the General his list of 255 officers denounced by the Soldiers’ Councils. The little man’s pop-eyes bulged and he went purple in the face at the thought of what the loss of so many would mean to his forces; but Roger checked his rage by saying:

  “The charges against many of these people are vague and unsubstantiated, and it would give the Councils the whip hand over every officer in the army if we cashiered all whom they chose to denounce; but examples must be made of those who have spoken against the Revolution. In the case of one hundred and twenty I propose to take no action; I suggest that you should transfer eighty-eight to other regiments as being the best means of dissipating the friction between them and their men; the remaining forty-seven I require to be arrested and handed over to me tomorrow night.”

  In his relief at learning that he was to lose only about a fifth of the number he had feared, the General gave way to Gallic abandon and kissed Roger on both cheeks; then, over another bottle of wine, they went through the list in detail and agreed on a slight rearrangement which would exempt a few officers whose services Dumouriez considered particularly valuable.