After a moment’s thought she replied, “I am most unwilling to leave you, Roger, while you are in such peril, but I know that my presence in France adds greatly to your anxieties; so, were no one else concerned in the matter, I would agree to do as you wish. But I came here with Lady Atkyns and am pledged to her. It would not be honourable in me to return to England while the Queen still lives, unless Lady Atkyns agreed that we should now abandon all hope of her rescue.”
Silently, Roger “damned” Lady Atkyns, but he replied kindly, M’dear, I am deeply sensible of your love for me, and also of your feelings in this matter; but now that de Batz’s associates are either in prison or scattered, what possible hope can Lady Atkyns and yourself have of rescuing the Queen? In the circumstances, I suggest that you should pay a visit to Lady Atkyns, put the matter to her, and do your utmost to persuade her to return to England with you.”
To that Amanda consented; and it was agreed that next day she should hire a carriage to take her to de Batz’s little château at Neuilly, where Lady Atkyns had been living ever since she and Amanda had arrived in France towards the end of June.
In this new move to send Amanda home Roger had no thought of Athénaïs. At odd, unexpected times he still caught himself thinking about her with desperate longing; but he knew that all he could hope for now was that she was still alive, and that they might meet again in the unforeseeable future. He was pressing Amanda to leave him only because he knew that, although she was comparatively safe at Passy, as long as she remained in France she was in some peril herself; and that, should misfortune overtake him, it was far better that she should be in England and know nothing of it until she heard of his death, than remain just outside Paris and suffer the agony of being unable to help him while waiting for him to be executed.
However, like its predecessors, this new attempt proved in vain. On the following night, Amanda broke it to him as gently as she could that, contrary to his wishes, she felt she must remain. Lady Atkyns had released her from her obligation, but refused to leave France herself until the Queen was either dead or free. She had been into Paris several times since de Batz’s disappearance and had hopes of soon being in communication with the prisoner; so Amanda had decided that she could not desert her friend as long as a possibility remained that her help might be required in a new bid to rescue the Queen. Then, to Roger’s intense annoyance, she confessed that she had given Lady Atkyns her address at Passy, so that if she were needed her friend could communicate with her there.
When thinking of Lady Atkyns dispassionately, Roger had conceded to himself that she must be a very brave woman and also an intelligent one, or de Batz would not have trusted her; but from the beginning he had been prejudiced against her because it was through her that his dear, courageous, romantic Amanda had become embroiled, and had actually fallen under the shadow of the guillotine. It was owing to her, too, that he had involved himself with Michonis, so that he now went about in fear of his life. And, to crown all, Amanda had given to this meddling widow the secret of the retreat that he had guarded so jealously all these months. He felt that he had a right to be angry, and, slamming the door, stamped out of the house.
On his way back to Paris he wondered how far Lady Atkyns had progressed in her approaches at the Conciergerie. In the matter of the Queen he had not been idle himself, but the last thing he wanted was any interference, and he was glad now that he had told Amanda nothing of his activities. In view of the fact that during the past fifteen months he had risked his life on four separate occasions either to protect, or attempt to save, Marie Antoinette, it irked him that his wife should appear to consider him lukewarm and far less to be counted on than her comparatively inactive friend; yet he had to admit to himself that his own hopes of being able to get the Queen out of prison were exceedingly slender.
In pursuance of their policy, the Comité had suppressed all public mention of the last attempt, but Roger had picked up the details from his well-informed acquaintances of how things had gone wrong. The Queen, having no pen or pencil, had pricked out with a pin on a piece of paper a reply to the note de Rougeville had left for her hidden among the petals of the red carnation. Believing the gendarme Gilbert to be trustworthy, she had given him her pricked-out message to pass on to Madame Richard. Both, presumably, had been bribed by de Batz to assist, but had then suffered a fit of nerves. For three days they had argued and dithered, and only then decided to ask Michonis if he thought they were all really justified in aiding the Queen to escape. Had they stopped at that all might yet have been well; but unfortunately they brought several other people, whom they believed to be in sympathy with the attempt, into the discussion. Michonis, realising that the matter had got too far out of control for him to hush up, had had the sense to make the Queen’s message indecipherable by pricking a lot more holes in the paper; and his instinct had proved right, for an hour later the plot had been denounced by one of the people Madame Richard had consulted.
The following day the Queen had been put through a long interrogation, but had protected her friends to the best of her ability by flatly denying all knowledge of the matter. Naturally she had not been believed, and in a pitiless determination to prevent any further attempt the authorities had added with savage severity to the strictness of her confinement. She had been removed to a smaller cell, the walls of which were running with damp, and which had only a slit for a window; the sole furnishings were a bed with a straw mattress, a broken rush-bottomed chair, a chamber-pot and a small screen. The last was the only modicum of privacy allowed her, as two gendarmes, who had been told that they would have to pay for it with their lives if she escaped, were stationed in her cell to keep a constant watch on all she did. She had been deprived of everything she possessed, except the clothes in which she stood up. Even her watch, a locket containing her children’s hair, and her rings had been taken from her. She was not even allowed a light, and the slit window only gave on to an interior court; so she was compelled to remain in total darkness for fourteen or more hours out of every twenty-four.
Rarely were malefactors guilty of the most heinous crimes treated with such atrocious barbarity, and no political prisoner had been made to suffer so brutal a confinement since the Middle Ages. The thought of the delicately-nurtured, and once gay and beautiful, mistress of Versailles, Fontainebleau and the Petite Trianon in that slimy, foetid cell made Roger’s blood boil; but he was convinced that, at present, only a miracle could get her out of it.
Nevertheless, he was laying his lines, for he still believed that the same principle would apply as had so nearly enabled de Batz to rescue the Royal Family from the Temple. With time, any standardised routine was bound to become slack and improve the chances of would-be rescuers; the vital question was, would enough time elapse to make conditions favourable for an attempt before the Queen was brought to trial? No preparations had been made for that as yet, as the Comité’s agents were still haggling in secret with Vienna; but if those negotiations broke down within the next month or two, this last hope would be gone.
Roger’s new approach had been facilitated by the fact that after the arrest of Michonis it had been decided to reconstruct the Prison Committee. Merely as a precaution, the old members, who, it was assumed, must have been on intimate terms with him, had been relieved of their duties, and new ones appointed. The competition for these appointments was fierce, as they offered ways of making big money. Firstly, the Commissioners who held them had sufficient power over the prison officials to make them connive at the escape of the less-important prisoners, if bribed sufficiently heavily by the prisoners’ friends to make it worth their while to do so; secondly, condemned prisoners were always stripped of their valuables before being taken to execution, and it was an understood thing that the lion’s share of these jewels and trinkets should be reserved for the Commissioners.
Roger, having de Batz’s fund at his disposal, had been able to bid high, and by placing 20,000 gold francs in the right quarter, gold now
being ten times the face value of paper, he had ensured his election. Further, knowing that to be of any service to the Queen he would need at least one other member of the Committee to act with him, he had approached Goret, who had turned a deaf ear while he had talked to her in the Temple. Goret had been delighted at the prospect of such a lucrative post, providing Roger put up the money for him; so for a further 20,000 gold francs his election also had been secured, and he had been promised big payments for himself on any occasions that his help might be required.
Only that morning the reconstructed Prison Committee had received its instructions from the Committee of Public Safety. Its members were empowered to inspect all prisons at any hour of the day or night, and question all jailers, turnkeys, guards and prisoners, either in public or in private. In the Queen’s case, however, as Roger had expected, an exception was made, and she was never to be questioned unless two or more Commissioners were present. He was, therefore, now in a position to go and see her at any time, but he had no intention of jeopardising this privilege by making premature use of it.
For another week he went about in considerable apprehension and concerned himself only with his official duties. At the end of that time he was feeling considerably more confident that he now had little to fear unless Michonis was brought to trial. But a new gloom and fear had fallen on the people of Paris.
On the 17th of September the Comité decreed the terrible “Law of the Suspect”. This infamous measure, which came to be known as “the procuress of the guillotine”, defined as suspects all who had either befriended tyranny, were related to émigrés and had not consistently proved their “patriotism”, could not give proof of their means of subsistence, had not paid their taxes, or could not produce their civic cards of identity. All such persons could be arrested by anybody, tried by any tribunal of “patriots” and, if their answers were unsatisfactory, thrown into prison at once. The Sections of all cities and the Communes throughout France were urged to form reliable tribunals and purge their populations forthwith. At the same time the right was given for any “patriot” to enter and search any dwelling at any hour of the day or night.
It was an open licence for gangs of sans-culottes to break in and plunder wherever they wished. It laid every decent person in the country open to intimidation, blackmail, malice and revenge. Within a few weeks every village in France had a tribunal manned by the most mean, vicious and criminal elements in the community. Over 50,000 tribunals were established, and day by day thousands of innocent people were dragged before them, mostly on false accusations, to be robbed, maltreated, imprisoned and later done to death. The Great Terror had begun.
Roger waited until the 25th of the month, then, taking Goret with him, went to see the Queen. He had no intention of trying to open communications with her, but wished simply to see how the prison was arranged and the number of gates and guards that would have to be passed in any attempt to get her out; so they hung their visit on a general inspection of the Conciergerie.
In its vaulted crypts and interior courts many hundreds of prisoners of both sexes were confined. The squalor and stench in most of them were nauseating, but in the great hall where the politicals were segregated conditions were better. Those who had money, or friends outside to send things in, were permitted to alleviate their sad lot with small comforts. Some of the prisoners were lying comatose upon their straw palliasses, but most were idling away the time in an apparently congenial manner. Among the men there were several games of cards and dice in progress, and numbers of the women had formed little circles where they were talking quietly while they mended their clothes. Everyone there must have known that they had not long to live, but there was no sign of fear or hysteria: the atmosphere was one of subdued decorum.
When at length they reached the Queen’s cell Roger could have wept at the sight of her. She was only thirty-seven, but she might have been seventy. Her body had become thin and frail, her cheeks had fallen in so that her aquiline nose stood out bony and prominent, her once bright blue eyes had become pale and lustreless, her once rich, generous mouth was now a pale, hard line, her once luxuriant golden hair had been cut short and the strands of it that showed under her cap were snow-white. She was dressed in an old black gown, the hem and cuffs of which were frayed with wear. Her hands were folded in her lap and she was sitting quite motionless, like a wax figure, on the solitary chair, Roger turned quickly away, and drew Goret after him.
On the way out Roger counted the gates and guards between the Queen’s cell and the street; then, before leaving, he used his official position to ask the chief turnkey if the same number of guards were kept on duty at night. The hairy ruffian who had replaced Richard replied with a grin that there were double the number, and the men were never drawn from the same battalion two nights running. His reply confirmed Roger’s belief that any attempt at rescue must prove hopeless until these extraordinary precautions had been relaxed.
Three days later he learned that Fouquier-Tinville had been instructed to prepare an indictment against the Queen. Apparently her Austrian relatives would make no worthwhile offer to ransom her, and Hébert was pressing for her death. He still held the little King, so could afford to sacrifice the “Tyrant’s Widow” to win a greater popularity with his cut-throat following. The obscene-minded journalist had raved at the Comité, “I demand the head of Antoinette. I have promised it to the sans-culottes, and you must give it to them, for without them you are nothing. If you refuse, I will go and hack it off myself.” And Hébert was now a power to be reckoned with, as he had taken Danton’s place as the idol of the scum of Paris. The Comité had wanted to keep their pawn in the diplomatic game for a while longer, but gave way because they considered that Hébert’s help in a new move they were contemplating would be more valuable.
On the 3rd of October they struck. The doors of the Convention were suddenly locked and Amar, on Robespierre’s instructions, impeached the proscribed Girondins. No less than 129 deputies were charged with being “enemies of the Revolution”; 43 were at once handed over to the Revolutionary Tribunal, 65 more arrested and the remaining 21, who had already escaped from Paris, outlawed. A week later Saint-Just put it to the cowed and mutilated Convention that “the Government shall remain Revolutionary until peace”. The measure was passed without a protest, although at one stroke it abolished the Constitution and all pretence of democracy. Henceforth the eleven men of the Policy Bureau, officially called the Committee of Public Safety, could rule unchallenged with absolute powers to dictate the way of life of every Frenchman from the cradle to the grave.
This final seizure of supreme power was well timed as, simultaneously with it, the fall of Lyons was announced. Dubois-Crancé had both prevented the relief of the city by the Piedmontese and invested it, with considerable military skill. After well-directed attacks early in the month on several key positions, he had reached the conclusion that it would soon fall without any further considerable expenditure of troops; but Couthon had then arrived upon the scene. This semi-paralysed lawyer had raised 25,000 peasants in the Auvergne and brought them to reinforce the besieging army. He would listen to no arguments about tactics, but insisted that a mass attack should be delivered immediately. As a member of the Comité his word was law. Some 2,000 Royalists and leading Federalists managed to cut their way out under the Comte de Précy, and a number of them succeeded in reaching Switzerland, but the remainder of the garrison was overwhelmed.
This attack en masse of Couthon’s succeeded only because the garrison was already enfeebled by starvation and knew that surrender would soon be inevitable, but it had far-reaching effects. Barère presented a report to the Convention showing that the reverses of the armies on the frontier had been caused by combats in detail, and urging that new tactics should be imposed upon the Generals. Nine-tenths of the troops of the Republic were raw, untrained and ill-equipped levies, totally unsuited for the old type of military operations, but when used in great hordes had courage, and in a
fierce onslaught, could overwhelm their less numerous enemies; so the attack en masse was adopted and henceforth became a salient feature in the battles of the Revolutionary Wars.
Roger, meanwhile, had been keeping his ears open for news of the Queen’s approaching trial; but all he could gather was that, although the lean, cadaverous Fouquier-Tinville had had a fortnight in which to prepare the indictment, he was finding great difficulty in formulating suitable charges. The old accusations about Marie Antoinette’s extravagance, her correspondence with the enemies of France, and her instigation of the flight to Varennes had been dug up; but there was practically no solid evidence which could be produced about any of them, and even if it were faked it would be hardly sufficient to convince the nation that she deserved death. Yet the Comité were determined that she should die, and, quite unexpectedly, just the type of thing they required to hold her up to the people as a monster fell into their hands.
It was in conversation with a Commissioner named Daujon that Roger learned of it, and he had great difficulty in hiding his rage and disgust. Apparently, on the 6th, the ever-busy Simon had come running to his masters, Hébert and Chaumette, with a piece of news that had filled them with revolting glee. He had caught the little King indulging in a habit not uncommon in small boys, but calculated to undermine their health; and on being asked where he had learnt this bad practice he declared that his mother had taught it to him.
Hébert, Chaumette and the Mayor, Pache, had at once hurried to the Temple, taking with them several of their cronies, including Daujon. Under examination the boy had, without prompting, reiterated his statement, also involving his aunt, and adding that his mother had taken him into bed with her for the purpose of teaching him other games, which he described.
The Man who Killed the King Page 47