The Hero of the People: A Historical Romance of Love, Liberty and Loyalty
“No, Sire; but it was the cover for it. You are not unjust for the lower
orders; they are kindly and love you--they are royalist. But they are in
pain from cold and hunger; beneath and around them are evil advisers,
who urge them on, and they know not their own strength. Once started
they become flood or fire, for they overwhelm or they consume.”
“Well, what am I to do? supposing, as is natural enough, I do not want
to be drowned or burned.”
“We must not open the sluices to the flood or windows to the flame. But
pardon me forgetting that I should not speak thus, even on a royal
order----“
“But you will on a royal entreaty. Count Charny, the King entreats
you--to continue.”
“Well, Sire, there are two strata of the lower orders, the soil and the
mud; the one which may be reposed upon and the other which will yield
and smother one. Distrust one and rest on the other.”
“Count, you are repeating at two hours’ interval, what Dr. Gilbert told
me.”
“Sire, how is it that after taking the advice of a learned man, you ask
that of a poor naval officer like me?”
“Because there is a wide difference between you, I believe. Dr. Gilbert
is devoted to royalty and you to the King. If the principle remains
safe, he would let the King go.”
“Then there is a difference between us, for the King and the principle
are inseparable for me,” responded the nobleman; “under this head it is
that I beg your Majesty to deal with me.”
“First, I should like to hear to whom you would apply in this space of
calm between two storms perhaps, to efface the wreck made by one and
soothe the coming tempest.”
“If I had the honor and the misfortune to be the wearer of the crown, I
should remember the cheers I heard round my carriage, and I should hold
out my hands to General Lafayette and Member Mirabeau.”
“Can you advise this when you detest one and scorn the other?”
“My sympathies are of no moment, the whole question is the safety of the
crown and the salvation of the monarchy.”
“Just what Dr. Gilbert says,” muttered the hearer as though speaking to
himself.
“Sire, I am happy to be in tune with such an eminent man.”
“But if I were to agree to such a union and there should be failure,
what think you I ought to do?”
“Think of your safety and your family’s.”
“Then you suggest that I should flee?”
“I should propose that your Majesty should retire with such regiments as
are reliable and the true nobles to some fortified place.”
“Ah,” said the King with a radiant face: “but among the commanders who
have given proof of devotion, you knowing them all, to which would you
confide this dangerous mission, of guarding and removing the King?”
“Sire,” replied Charny, after hesitation, “it is not because ties of
friendship--almost of family--attach me to a certain nobleman that I
name him, but because he is known for his steadfast devotion; as
Governor of the Leeward Islands, he not only protected our possessions
in the Antilles, but captured some islands from the British: he had been
charged with various commands, and at present he is General Governor, I
believe, at Metz--this is the Marquis of Bouille. Were I a father, I
should trust my son to him; a subject, I would confide the King!”
At the name the hearer could not repress an outcry of joy. He held out a
letter, saying:
“Read this address, my lord, and see if Providence itself did not
inspire me to apply to you.”
The address ran: “To Lord François Claude Amour, Marquis of Bouille,
General Commander at Metz.”
“After what has happened, I do not feel that I ought to keep anything
back from you. I have thought of this flight before, but in all the
propositions was the hand of Austria beckoning me into a trap, and I
have recoiled. I do not love Austria more than you do yourself.”
“Sire, you forget that I am the faithful subject of the King and the
Queen of France.” He emphasized the second title.
“I have already told you, count,” went on the King, “that you are a
friend, and I can speak the more frankly as the prejudice I cherished
against the Queen is completely effaced from my mind. But it was against
my will that I received into my house the double enemy of my line, as an
Austrian and a Lorrainer. After ten years’ struggle it was despite my
will that I had to charge Lord Breteuil with the management of my
household and the government of Paris; make the Premier of the
Archbishop of Toulouse, an atheist; lastly, pay to Austria the millions
she extorted from the Low Countries. At present speaking, who succeeds
the dead Maria Theresa, to counsel and direct the Queen? Her brother
Joseph II., who is luckily dying. He is advised by old women of
councillors who sway the Queen of France through her hairdresser Leonard
and her dressmaker Bertin.
“They are pensioned by us while they are leading her to alliance with
Austria. Austria has always been fatal to France, either as foe or
friend, as when she put the dagger in Jacques Clement’s or Ravaillac’s
or Damien’s to slay our kings. Formerly it was Catholic and devout
Austria, but she is abjuring now and is partly philosophical under
Joseph; rashly, she runs against her own sword, Hungary: without
foresight, she lets the Belgian priesthood rob her of the finest jewels
in her crown, the Low Countries; become the vassal of Russia, she wears
out her troops in fighting for it against the Turks, our allies. No, my
lord, I hate Austria and I will not trust to her. But I was saying that
her overtures of flight were not the only ones. I have had one proposed
by Marquis Favras. Do you know him?”
“He was the captain in the Belgunze Regiment, and lieutenant in the
Count of Provence’s own Guards.”
“You have hit it with the latter shot. What think you of him?”
“He is a brave soldier and a loyal gentleman. Unfortunately he has no
means and this makes him restless and fit for mad projects and hazardous
attempts. But he is a man of honor who will die without retreating a
step, or uttering a complaint in order to keep his word. He may be
trusted to make a dash but not to manage an enterprise.”
“He is not the leader,” said the King, with marked bitterness; “that is
Provence, who finds the means and manages all; devoted to the end, he
will remain while Favras bears me hence. This is not the plot of Austria
but of the fugitive princes and peers.”
“But why should not your Majesty’s brother go with you? why would he
remain?”
“Through devotion, and also to be at hand in case the people should be
tired of revolution and seek a regent. I tell you what all know, my dear
count, and what your brother wrote me yesterday from Turin. They debate
about deposing me and ruling by a regent. You see that unless in an
extremity I can no sooner accept the Favras plan than the Austrian. This
is what I have said to nobody, my dear count, but yourself, and I do it
in order that nobody, not even the Queen,” he laid stress on the last
three words, “can make you more devoted to them than to me, since they
cannot show more confidence.”
“Sire, am I to keep the journey a secret from everybody?” inquired
Charny, bowing.
“It little matters, count, that it should be known whither you go, as
long as the design is unknown. You know the situation, my fears and
hopes, better than my Minister Necker and my adviser Gilbert. Act
accordingly; I put the scissors and the thread in your hands--disentangle
or cut, as you see fit.”
He held the letter open for him to read:
TUILERIES PALACE, Oct. 29th.
“I hope, my lord, that you continue contented with your post as
Governor of Metz. Count Charny, Lieutenant of my Lifeguards,
passing through your city, will inquire if among your desires are
any I can gratify. In that event I will take the opportunity to be
agreeable to you as I do this one to renew the assurance of my
feelings of esteem for your lordship.
“LOUIS.”
“Now, my Lord Charny,” said the King, “you have full power to make
promises to Bouille if you think he needs any; only do not commit me
farther than I can perform.”
For the second time he held out his hand.
Charny kissed it with emotion forefending any fresh pledges, and went
forth, leaving his master convinced that he had acquired by his trust,
the heart of the servitor, better than by offerings of wealth and
favors such as he had lavished in the days of his power.
CHAPTER XIX.
A LOVING QUEEN.
Charny left the King with his heart full of opposing feelings.
The primary one, mounting to the surface over the tumultuous waves of
turbulent thoughts, was deep gratitude for the boundless confidence
testified to him.
This imposed duties the more holy from his conscience not being dumb. He
remembered his wrongs towards this worthy monarch who laid his hand on
his shoulder as on a true friend at the time of danger.
The more Charny felt guilty towards his master, the more ready he was to
devote himself to him.
The more this respectful allegiance grew the lesser became the less pure
emotion which he had cherished for the Queen during years.
This is the reason why he--having lost the vague hope which led him
towards Andrea for the test, as if she was one of those flowering shrubs
on the precipice edge by which a falling man can save himself--grasped
with eagerness this mission diverging him from the court. Here he felt
the double torment of being still loved by the woman whom he was ceasing
to love and of not being loved by her whom he was beginning to adore.
Profiting by the coldness lately introduced into his relations with the
Queen, he went to her rooms with the intention of leaving a note to tell
of his departure when he found Weber awaiting him.
The Queen wished to see him forthwith, and there is no eluding the
wishes of crowned heads in their palace.
Marie Antoinette was in the opposite mood to her visitor’s, she was
recalling her harshness towards him and his devotion at Versailles; at
the sight of the count’s brother laid dead across her threshold she had
felt a kind of remorse; she confessed to herself that had this been the
count she would have badly paid him for the sacrifice.
But had she any right to expect aught else than devotion of Charny?
She admitted that she was stern and unfair towards him, when the door
opened and the gentleman appeared in the irreproachable costume of the
military officer on duty.
But there was in his deeply respectful bearing something chilly which
repelled the magnetic flow from the Queen’s heart, to go and seek in his
the tender, sweet and sad memories collected during four years.
The Queen looked round her as though to try to ascertain why he remained
on the sill, and when assured it was a matter of his will, she said:
“Come, my lord: we are alone.”
“I see that, but I do not see what in that fact should alter the bearing
of a subject to his sovereign.”
“When I sent Weber for you I thought that fond friends were going to
speak with one another.”
Charny smiled bitterly.
“I understand that smile and that you say, inwardly, the Queen was
unjust at Versailles and is capricious here.”
“Injustice or caprice, a woman is allowed anything,” returned Charny: “a
queen more than all.”
“Whatever the caprice, my friend,” said Marie with all the witchingness
she could put in a voice or smile, “the Queen cannot do without you as
adviser or the woman without you as loved friend.”
She held out her hand, a little thinned but still worthy of a lovely
statue. He kissed it respectfully and was about to let it fall when he
felt her retain his.
“I ought to have wept with you over the loss of your brother, slain for
my sake: well, I have been weeping these ten days since I have not seen
you: they are falling yet.”