CHAPTER XVII.
THE SECRET SOCIETY LODGE.
The famous royal special court, the "Bed of Justice," (which is theFrench equivalent for the "Star Chamber,") was held with all theceremonial which royal pride required on one hand and the intriguers whourged their master to this exercise of royal claims, on the other.
The King pretended to be serene, but he was not at ease: yet hismagnificent costume was admired and nothing cloaks a man's defects likemajesty. The Dauphiness wore a plaintive look through all the affair.Lady Dubarry was brave, with the confidence given by youth and beauty.She seemed a ray of lustre from the King whose left-hand queen she was.
Aiguillon walked among the peers firmly, so that none could have guessedthat it was across him the King and Parliament were exchanging blows. Hewas pointed at by the crowd and the Parliamentarists scowled at him; butthat was all.
Besides, the multitude, kept at a distance by the soldiers, betrayed itspresence only by a humming, not yet a hooting.
The King's speech began in honey but ended in a dash of vitriol so sharpthat the nobles smiled. But Parliament, with the admirable unanimity ofconstitutional bodies, kept a tranquil and indifferent aspect whichhighly displeased the King and the aristocratic spectators on thestands.
The Dauphiness turned pale with wrath, from thus for the first timemeasuring popular resistance, and calculating the weight of its power.
After the King's speech was read by the Chancellor, the King, to theamazement of everybody made a sign that he was going to speak.
Attention became stupor.
How many ages were in that second!
"You hear what my chancellor informs you of my will," he said in a firmvoice: "Think only to carry it out, for I shall never change."
The whole assembly was literally thunderstricken. The Dauphiness thankedthe speaker with a glance of her fine eyes. Lady Dubarry, electrified,could not refrain from rising, and she would have clapped her hands butfor the fear that the mob would stone her to death on going out, or toreceive next day satirical songs each worse than the other.
"Do you hear?" she said to the Duke of Richelieu, who had bowed lowlyto his triumphing nephew. "The King will never change, he says."
"They are terrible words, indeed," he replied, "but those poorParliamentists did not notice that in saying he would never change, theKing had his eyes on you."
She was a woman and no politician. She only saw a compliment whereAiguillon perceived the epigram and the threat.
The effect of the royal ultimatum was immediately favorable to the royalcause. But often a heavy blow only stuns and the blood circulates themore purely and richly for the shock.
This was the reflection made by three men in the crowd, as they lookedon from the corner. Chance had united them here, and they appeared towatch the impression of the throng.
"This ripens the passions," observed one of them, an old man withbrilliant eyes in a soft and honest face. "A Bed of Justice is a greatwork."
"Aye, but you may make a bed and not get Justice to go to sleep on it,"sneered a young man.
"I seem to know you--we have met before?" queried the old man.
"The night of the accident through the fireworks; you are not wrong, M.Rousseau."
"Oh, you are my fellow-countryman, the young surgeon, Marat?"
"Yes, at your service."
The third man did not speak. He was young and had a noble face; duringthe ceremony he had done nothing but study the crowd. The surgeon wasthe first to depart, plunging onto the thick of the mob, which hadforgotten him, being less grateful than Rousseau, but he intended toremind them some day.
Waiting till he had gone, the other young man addressed the philosopher,saying:
"Are you not going?"
"I am too old to risk myself in that crush."
"In that case," said the young man, lowering his voice, "we shall meetto-night in Plastriere Street--Do not fail, _Brother_ Rousseau!"
The author started as though a phantom had risen in face of him. Hisusually pale tint became livid. He meant to reply to the other but hehad vanished.
After these singular words from the stranger, trembling and unhappy,Rousseau meandered among the groups without remembering that he was oldand feared the press. Soon he got out upon Notre Dame Bridge, and hecrossed in musing and self-questioning, the Greve Ward next his own.
"So, the secret which every one initiated is sworn to guard at the perilof his life, is in the grip of the first comer. This is the result ofthe secret societies being made too popular. A man knows me, that I amhis associate--perhaps his accomplice! Such a state of things is absurdand intolerable. I wanted to learn the bottom of the plan for humanregeneration framed by those chosen spirits called the Illuminati: I wasmad enough to believe that good ideas could come from Germany, that landof mental mist and beer. I have entangled myself with some idiots orknaves who used it as cloak to conceal their folly. But no, this shallnot be. A lightning flash has shown me the abyss, and I am not going tothrow myself into it with lightness of heart."
Leaning on his cane, he stopped in the street for an instant.
"Yet it was a lovely dream," he meditated. "Liberty in bondage, thefuture conquered without noise and shocks, and the net mysteriously spunand laid over the tyrants while they slumbered. It was altogether toolovely and I was a dupe to believe it. I do not want any of these fears,doubts and shadows which are unworthy of a free mind and independentbody."
At this, he caught sight of some police officers, and they so frightenedthe free mind and impelled the independent body, that he hastened toseek the darkest shade under the pillars where he was strolling.
It was not far to his house, where he took refuge from his thoughts andhis wife, the spitfire of this modern Socrates.
He now began to think that there might be danger in not keeping theappointment at the secret lodge of which the stranger in the mob hadspoken.
"If they have penalties against turncoats, they must have them for thelukewarm and the negligent," he reasoned. "I have always noticed thatblack threats and great danger amount to little; one must be on guardagainst petty stings, paltry revenge; hoaxes and annoyances of smallcalibre. The application of wild justice by capital sentences isextremely rare. Some day my brother Freemasons will even up matters withme by stretching a rope across my staircase so that I shall break a limbor knock out the half-dozen teeth still my own. Or a brick may stave inmy skull as I go under a scaffolding. Better than that, they may havesome pamphleteer, living near me, in the league, who will watch what Ido. That can be done as the meetings are held in my own street. Thisquill-driver will publish details of how my wife scolds, which will makeme the laughing-stock of all the town. Have I not enemies all aroundme?"
Then his thoughts changed.
"Pah, where is courage, and where honor?" he said. "Am I afraid ofmyself? Shall I see a rogue or a poltroon when I look in the glass? No,this shall not be. I will keep the tryst though the entire universecoalesces to work my misery--though the cellars in the street broke downto swallow me up. Pretty reasonings fear lead a man into. Since that manspoke to me, I have been swinging round in a circle of nonsense. I amdoubting everything--myself included. This is not logical. I know that Iam not an enthusiast and I would not believe this association could workwonders unless it would do so. What says that I am not going to be theregenerator of humanity,--I, who have searched, and whom the mysteriousagents of this limitless power sought out on the strength of mywritings? Am I to recede from following up my theory and putting it intoaction?"
He became animated.
"What is finer? Ages on the march--the people issuing from the state ofbrutes; step following step in the gloom and a hand beckoning out of thedarkness. The immense pyramid arising on the tip of which future ageswill set the crown--the bust of Rousseau, citizen of Geneva, who riskedhis life and his liberty to be true to his motto: 'Truth is more thanlife.'"
Night came and he passed out of his house.
He
peeped around to make sure.
No vehicles were about. The street was full of loungers, who stared atone another, as usual, or halted at the store-windows to ogle the girls.A man the more would not be perceived in the scuffle. Rousseau divedinto it, and he had no long road to travel.
Before the door where Rousseau was to meet the brothers, a street singerwith a shrill fiddle was stationed. Nothing was more favorable to a jamin the thoroughfare than the crowd caused by the amateurs of this rudemusic. Everybody had to go one side or another of the group. Rousseauremarked that many of those who chose to take the inside and go along bythe houses, became lost on the road as though they fell down sometrapdoor. He concluded that they came on the same errand as himself andmeant to follow their example.
Passing behind the group round the musician, he watched the first personpassing this who went up the alley of the house. He was more timid thanhim, and his friends, for he waited till ten had disappeared. Then, too,when a cab came along and called all eyes toward the street, he divedinto the passage.
It was black, but he soon spied a light ahead, under which was seated aman, placidly reading as a tradesman is in the custom to do afterbusiness hours. At Rousseau's steps, he lifted his head, and plainlylaid his finger on his breast, lit up by the lamp. The philosopherreplied to the sign by laying a finger on his lips.
Thereupon the guard rose and opening a door so artistically cut in thepanelling so as to be unseen, he showed Rousseau a flight of stairs. Itwent steeply down into the ground.
On the visitor entering, the door closed noiselessly but rapidly.
Groping with his cane, Rousseau went down the steps, thinking it a poorjoke for his colleagues to try to break his neck and limbs so soon onthe threshold.
But the stairs were not so long as steep. He had counted seventeen stepswhen a puff of the warm air from a collection of men smote his face.
It was a cellar, hung with canvas painted with workmen's tools, moresymbolical than accurate. A solitary lamp swung from the ceiling andcast a sinister glimmer on faces honest enough in themselves. The menwere whispering to each other on benches. Instead of carpet or evenplanks, reeds had been strewn to deaden sound.
Nobody appeared to pay any heed to Rousseau. Five minutes before, he hadwished for nothing so much as this entrance; now he was sorry that hehad slipped in so smoothly.
He saw one place empty on one of the rear benches and he went and satthere modestly. He counted thirty-three heads in the gathering. A deskon a raised stage waited for the chairman of the club.
He remarked that the conversation was very brief and guarded. Many didnot move their lips; only three or four couples really chatted.
Those who were silent strove to hide their faces, an easy matter fromthe lamp throwing masses of shadow. The refuge of these timid folkseemed to be behind the chairman's stage.
But two or three, to make up for this shrinking, bustled about toidentify their colleagues. They went to and fro, spoke together, andoften disappeared through a doorway masked by a curtain painted with redflames on a black ground.
Presently a bell rang.
Plainly and simply a man left the bench where he had been mixed up withthe others and took his place at the desk. After having made some signswith fingers and hands which the assemblaged repeated, and sealed allwith a more explicit gesture, he declared the lodge open.
He was a complete stranger to Rousseau; under the appearance of asuperior craftsman, he hid much presence of mind and he spoke witheloquence as fluent as a trained orator. His speech was clear and short,signifying that the lodge was held for the reception of a new member.
"You must not be surprised at the meeting taking place where the usualinitiation ceremonies cannot be performed. Such tests are considereduseless by the chiefs. The brother to be received is one of the torchesof contemporaneous philosophy, a deep spirit devoted to us byconviction, not fear. He who has plumbed all the mysteries of nature andthe human heart would not feel the same impression as the ordinarymortal who seeks our assistance in will, strength and means. To win hisco-operation it will be ample to be content with the pledge andacquiescence of this distinguished mind and honest and energeticcharacter."
The orator looked round to see the effect of his plea. It was magical onRousseau. He knew what were the preliminary proceedings of secretsocieties; he viewed them with the repugnance natural in superior minds.The absurd concessions but useful ones, required to simulate fear in thenovices when there was nothing to fear appeared to him the culminationof puerility and idle superstition.
Moreover, the timid philosopher, the enemy of personal display, reckonedhimself unfortunate if compelled to be a sight even though the attacksupon him would be in earnest. To be thus dispensed from the trial wasmore than satisfaction. He knew the rigor of Equality in the masonicrites; this exception in his favor was therefore a triumph.
"Still," said the chairman, "as the new brother loves Equality likemyself, I will ask him to explain himself on the question which I putsolely for form's sake: 'What do you seek in our society?'"
Rousseau took two steps forward, and answered, as his dreamy andmelancholy eye wandered over the meeting:
"I seek here what I have not found elsewhere. Truths, not sophisms. If Ihave agreed to come here, after having been entreated--(he emphasizedthe word)--it is from my belief that I might be useful. It is I who amconferring the obligation. Alas! we all may have passed away before youcan supply me with the means of defense, or help me to freedom with yourhands if I should be imprisoned, or give me bread and comfort ifafflicted--for the light cometh slowly, progress has a halting step, andwhere the light is quenched, none of us may be able to revive it---- "
"Illustrious brother, you are wrong," said the soft and penetrativevoice of one who charmed the philosopher, "more than you imagine lies inthe scope of this society: it is the future of the world. The future ishope--science--heaven, the Chief Architect who hath promised toilluminate His great building, the earth. The Architect does not lie."
Startled by this lofty language, Rousseau looked and recognized theyoung man who had reminded him of the meeting at the street corner. Itwas Baron Balsamo. Clad in black with marked richness and great style,he was leaning on the side rail of the platform, and his face, softlylighted up, shone with all its beauty, grace and natural expressiveness.
"Science?" repeated the author, "a bottomless pit. Do you prate to me ofscience--comfort, future and promise where another tells of materialthings, rigor and violence--which am I to believe?" And he glanced atMarat whose hideous face did not harmonize with Balsamo's. "Are there inthe lodge meeting wolves just as in the world above--wolf and lamb! Letme tell you what my faith is, if you have not read it in my books."
"Books," interrupted Marat, "granted that they are sublime; but they areutopias; you are useful in the sense of the old prosers being useful.You point out the boon, but you make it a bubble, beautiful with thesunshine playing in a rainbow on it, but it bursts and leaves a nastytaste on the lips."
"Have you seen the great acts of nature accomplished withoutpreparation?" retorted Rousseau. "You want to regenerate the world bydeeds? this is not regeneration but revolution."
"Then," sharply replied the surgeon, "you do not care for independence,or liberty?"
"Yes, I do," returned the other, "for independence is my idol--libertymy goddess. But I want the mild and radiant liberty which warms andvivifies. The equality which brings men together by friendship, notfear. I wish the education and instruction of each element of the socialbody, as the joiner wishes neat joints and the mechanician harmony. Iretract what I have written--progress, concord and devotion!"
Marat smiled with disdain.
"Rivers of milk and honey--the dreams of the poets which philosopherswant to realise."
Rousseau replied no more, it was so odd for him to be accused ofmoderation when all Europe called him an extreme innovator. He sat downin silence after having sought for the approval of the person who haddefended him.<
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"You have heard?" asked the chairman, rising. "Is the brother worthy toenter the society? does he comprehend his duties?"
"Yes," replied the gathering, but the one of reservation showed nounanimity.
"Take the oath," said the presiding officer.
"It will be disagreeable to me to displease some of the members," saidthe philosopher with pride, "but I think that I shall do more for theworld and for you, brothers, apart from you, in my own isolation. Leaveme then to my labors. I am not shaped to march with others whom I shun;yet I serve them, because I am one of you, and I try to believe you arebetter than you are. Now, you have my entire mind."
"He won't take the oath!" exclaimed Marat.
"I refuse positively. I do not wish to belong to the society. Too manyproofs come up that I shall be useless to it."
"Brother," said the member with the conciliating speech, "allow me thusto call you, for we are all brothers apart from all combinations ofhuman minds--do not yield to a movement of spite--sacrifice a little ofyour proper pride. Do for us what may be repugnant to you. Your counsel,ideas and presence are the Light. Do not plunge us into the doubledarkness of your refusal and your absence."
"Nay, I take away nothing," said the author; "if you wish the name andthe spiritual essence of Jean Jacques Rousseau, put my books on yourchairman's table, and when my turn to speak comes round, open one andread as far as you like. That will be my advice--my opinion."
"Stop a moment," said Surgeon Marat as the last speaker took a step togo out. "Free will is all very well and the illustrious philosopher'sshould be respected like the rest; but it strikes me as far from regularto let an outsider into the sanctuary who--being bound by no clause,even tacit--may, without being a dishonest man, reveal our proceedings."
Rousseau returned him his pitying smile.
"I am ready for the oath, if one of discretion," he said.
But the unnamed member who had watched the debate with authority whichnobody questioned, though he stood in the crowd, approached the chairmanand whispered in his ear.
"Quite so," replied the Venerable, and he added: "You are a man, not abrother, but one whose honor places you on our level. We here lay asideour position to ask your simple promise to forget what has passedbetween us."
"Like a dream in the morning: I swear on my honor," replied Rousseauwith feeling.
He went out upon these words, and many members at his heels.
The Mesmerist's Victim Page 17