Chronicles of the Bastile. First series, Bertaudière : an historical romance

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Preface

In terminating this First Part of his labours, the Author of the Volume now submitted to Public Ordeal, deems it incumbent upon him to address a few words not only to those who having started with him in the Race have kept pace with him until he has reached the Goal, but like^sise to those who taking up this Serial in its completed form, are more likely to be biassed in their judgment of it by the reports that have from time to time gone abroad, relatively to the non-originality of the subjectmatter oflFered to their perusal.

The First Number of " The Chronicles of the Bastiie" had scarcely appeared before it was buzzed about, in literary circles, that the Publication was merely a translation of some French Work on the same subject, a rumour which rapidly gained ground until it found its way into the Public Journals, and through their powerful agency was disseminated as widely as their ramifications extend ; a rumour, be it said, that from the circumstance of its owing its origin to an accidental and most iextraordinary coincidence, was sufficient to damp the ardour of an aspirant to Public Favour and Literary Fame, and, moreover, calculated in some measure to neutralize the efforts of the very spirited and enterprizing Publisher under whose auspices the work was produced. But the Author, confident that the truth would eventually come out, redoubled his exertions, and the Publisher seconding those exertions, both Author and Publisher soon had reason to be satisfied with the result ; whence the inference may

VI PREFACE.

be fairly deduced that the Public was satisfied also : still is this not enough, for that same Public has likewise a right to know how far the Press was justified in promulgating a report which it was not prepared to substantiate by a corresponding fact.

Towards November in 1843, a work in Frenchy adverti; ed to be published in parts, appeared in Paris ; it was intituled : " Histoire de la Bastille ^ depuis sa fondation en 1374 jusqu' a sa destruction en 1789 ; ses prisonniers^ ses gouverneursy ses archives; details des tortures et supplices usitis envers les prisonniers ; revelations sur le regime intirieur de la Bastille ; aventures dramatiquesy lugubresy scandaleuses, 6vasionSy archives de la Police. Par M, M. Arnould et Alboise du PugoL'^

Now the " Chbonicles of the Bastile" came out in the following January, hence the plausibility of the assertion that they were " a translation of some French Worky^ though^the MS. had in fact been in the possession of the Publisher since the month of May 1813, accompanied by a pledge that the matter contained therein was original ; more than this, the introductory chapter, headed — " The Old Man of the BastiW waa written in Paris in August 1811, as was also a great portion of the first five numbers— a period of at least two years and three months previously to the gentlemen above-named publishing their intention of compiling a '^Histoby of the Bastilb."

It will be remarked that the assertion was extremely vague notwithstanding ; but its vagueness did not the less stigmatize the '^ Bebtaudiere'* as a plagiarism, although it is but justice to add, that in one or two instances the authors of the rumour honourably and publicly recanted their opinion.

At the present day, when translations and adaptations from the French are so common that any school-boy, possessing half a smattering of " Boyer and Chambaudy'' may at once write himself down an Author, it was not extraordinary that the pub-

PREFACE. VII

lieatkm, under such peculiar circumstances, of a Serial like the "' Chronicles of the Bastile," should he received with distrust, thoucfh had it proved a copy instead of an original, it is very certain that the fact would not have escaped the hawk-eye of the thrift-seeking caterers to the prevailing taste for cheap literature, and that long ago the public would have been inundated with " Chronicles of the Bastile," in every variety of form.

As the " Revue de Paris" (so asserts one of our friends) has recently done the Author the honour of translating the ^' Bertaudibre" into French, he would not be surprised were he next accused of having plagiarized himself.

Having procured a copy of the^r5^ number of Messrs. Arnold and du Pugol's work, the Author of the " Chronicles" was tp'atified to find that beyond the unprecedented coincidence of the two publications appearing within so short a time of each other, and a similitude of title and purpose, there existed Ijetween them nothing more in common, the character of the former Ixnng not that of" An Historical Romance," but of a condensed summary of some of the principal events comprised between the years 1374 and 1789 ; as, however, the foregoing facts could not conveniently be made public at the time, the accusa'^ion of plagiarism was of necessity allowed to weigh upon this Serial until its completion should afford the Author an opportunity of vindicating himself from that charge, and at the same time of absolving the Gentlemen of the Press from the very pardonable error of judgment into which they were in consequence induced.

It only remains for the Author now to assert upon his honour, that the present publication is neither a translation, nor an adaptation^ nor an imitatum of any French work ; the historical portions of the nairative have been derived from sources open to all the world, {Mrovided only that *' all the world" know how to

Vlll PBEFArE.

come at them, whilst for the fictitious elements that have served to lend the chief interest to the scenes he has attempted to depict, he is not amenable to public interrogation, though openly confessing his intention of drawing from the same fount again when he oflFers the " Sequel to the Bebtaudiebe" to the perusal of those who feel interested in the fate of their friend Jacques.

London, .'30tli June, 1845.

TABLE OF CONTENTS-

INTRODUCTORY.

TH£ OLD MAN OF THE BA8TILB.

FAGR .. I

CHAPTBR

I. A Relic of Antiquity .... .... .... .... 9

II. Exemplifies the French Proverb, '"TLs not the habit makes

III. Commandant Schwillwein displays his logic. A Female

Acquaintance of his introduced .... .'iO

IV. The Bastile St. Antoine .... .... 36

V. A Scene in the Bastile. Discovery of the Secret Closet in

VI. The Sisters and the Fortune-Teller 55

VII. The Warning, the Journey, the Arrest .... .... 65

VIII. The Baron de St. Auney assisted, in the hour of need, by a

IX. A Change for the Worse. St. Marc at fault. Jacques'

mysterious agency .... .... 84

XL The Capuchin, the Recognition ; the Plot 97

XII. Julie and her Jailers. Innocence in danger 105

X CONTENTS.

CHAPTKR PAGB

XIII. The two Enemies in presence. Jacques and his Employer.

A Baugliter's sacrifice 1 IB

XIV. Shows how St Marcel was set at large, and what became of

XV. Shows how St. Marcel was introduced to the Emperor

Jtdianj and bofw he was entertained hy that Monarch . . 136

XVI. A Tint to Versailles. Madame de Maintenon. The Suppliant 147

XVII. Of the conversation that took place between Jacques and

St. Marcel -, and what ensued 161

XVIII. Of D'Argenson's interview with Maltre Etienne Quinault,

and how Jacques got the money from the latter 171

XIX. St. Marcel fulfils an in^rtant mission, and becomes suddenly enamoured of solitude .... . . « . .... 186

XX. The Commandant makes himself comfortably at home. His privacy is interrupted by an uninvited guest. St.

XXI. MaStre Quinault visits D'Argenson 203

XXII. How JuUe fSnred in the Bastile, and bow St. Maro and Corbe

comported themselves towards her • . . • 214

XXIII. The Cemetery of tiie Si. Innocents. The midnight ren-

XXrV. B'Argenson and his victims. The Listener 234

XXV. Brin^i to light a few of the secrets of Lutetia. The Emperor Julian departs upon a mysterious enterprise .... 242

XXVI. Louis Quatorze and his ministers. Government embarass-

ments and State-secrets .... .... ... 257

XXVII. The Calotte of the Bertau£^re Tower. St. Leu makes acquaintance with some of his predecessors therein .... 267

XXVIII. The Duke of Chartres and huB companions. The Carousal

at the Palais Royal .... .... 279

XXIX. How Jeanne de St. Amiey was abducted from the Convent

of the Sisters de la Madeleine du Tnu&d 269

XXX. A few words about every-body in general, and a few more

about St. Marcel and Demoeritus, in partieuiar .... 300

XXXI. St. Leu obtains an interview with JuHe, and astonishes

Corb^ and Father Riquelet .... 312

XXXII. The Dark Chamber in the Bastile .... 321

CONTENTS. XI

CHAPTRR PAUK

XXXIII. St. Marcel and Dcmocritua express their opinions very freely

upon a yaiiety of subjects .... • . • • • • * • 3.36

XXXIV. St. Leu effects his escape from the Bastile 346

XXXVI. D'Argenson in his official capacity peeps into the correspondence of His Most Christian Majesty's subjects, and obtains possession of a secret or two worth knowing . . 366

XXXVII. Shrore-Tuesday in Paris, in the year Seventeen Hundred.

How the Lutetians enjoyed themselres on that day .... 377

XXXVIII. How Monseigneur D'Argenson thought to catch the Emperor Julian and didn't succeed .... .... 385

XXXIX. Of the Grand Masque at the Ch&teau of Versailles, and

what occurred thereat .... .... .... .... 392

XL. How Democritus astonished the Court of Louis Qnatorze 4(Ki

XLI. In which sundry parties find themselves in embarrassed circumstances .... ... .... .... .... 41/

XLIL Vulcan and Hercules give striking proofs of their loyalty to

XLI II. Necessarily a very short one, because uninteresting, and which may be skipped by such Readers as do not wish to know how St. Marcel became the depositary of a certain State-secret, and in consequence suddenly disappeared from Paris .... .... •... .... •••• 44«>

XLFV. The Duke of Chartres pays a nocturnal visit to Lutetia . . 449

XLV. The Duke's interview with Beatrice. . . 462

XLVI. Ch&teau la Gicherie. The White Tower 474

XLVII. D'Argenson, Madame de MainteBQn, and ChamiUart .... 481

XL VIII. The return of the Messenger 492

XLIX. Number Two La Bertaudi^. D'Argenson and Julie . . 498

L. Ru defeats I^Argenson's meditated villainy against Juhe 507

LI. The Notaiy's confession* D'Argenaon's treachery .... 513

LII. In which the Notary gives D'Argenson the benefit of an act

LIU. The lieutenant of Pohoe in an nnpleasint predicament . . 531

LIV. How Jacques dained his Cither at the Bastile, and what occurred to hun ..•• .••. .••• .... 537

LV. By the revelation of tax important secret, Jacques secures

the oo-operation of Ru in a haiardous enterprise .... 546

Xii CONTENTS.

CHAPTBR PAGB

LVI. The Lutetians becoming alanned for the safety of the Emperor, adopt a desperate resolution concerning him .... 556

LVII. The hist interview between the Duke of Chartres and

LVI 1 1. The Chevaher de Moat Fleuri imparts an interesting piece

of inteUigence to the Marquise de Beauvais oG\)

LIX. Ru makes a disclosure to the Lieutenaut of Pohce ; and hi«

last appearance in pubUc 577

LX. The Riot that took pkce at Maitre Chopius .... .... 58(>

THE EPISODE.

FIRST PERIOD.

CHAPTKR i'AGK

II. The Repast. An Intruder .. .... .... .... 618

III. The Journey. The Arrival. The Installation G*i(>

SECOND PERIOD.

The last. Number Four La Bertaudi^re .... G'^o

THE OLD MAN OF THE BASTILE.

INTRODUCTORY.

It was eight o'clock on the sultriest morning of the sultry month of July 1840, that I arrived at Paris, alighting at the Bureau des Messageries Royales, in the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires. It is scarcely worth stating, that after a twenty four hours' jolt over the stones of the royal road of Boulogne and Paris, I was very glad to reach the Hdtel to which I had been recommended, and rest my jumbled bones until nature was recruited. This necessary duty performed, and the not less necessary ablutions, my next undertaking was to reconnoitre the lions; but as this was a task nut performed in a day, and which would require more than a day's writing to do over again, I shall not detail my peregrinations through the capital of La belle France, lest those who read be as fatigued in mind as I was in body, and as inclined to sleep, after rambling through its dirty and rugged streets.

My method of exploring the French Metropolis I feel bound to bequeath to travellers : it was, to chalk out in my mind's eye, a new circuit every morning, taking the Seine and its quays as beacons \ my hotel of course forming the point of departure and my goal ; then, striking ''off, off* and away,** through lanes and by -streets, narrow, rugged, and dirty; through carre/ours, points et places; up boulevards and along quays ; through barriers and across bridges ; I gradually retraced my steps homewards, possessing an extended knowledge of the topography of Paris.

The market-places ^rmed a centre of attractions of various kinds, which I never could muster up self-denial to resist. Setting aside the contemplation of the person and diversified costume of the itinerant venders of food of all sorts, and without staying to take a physiognomical survey of the features of every marchande des quaire saisons,*

* The Marchande des quatre saisons is a well known Parisian character ; the term translated literally, signiftes '* merchant qf the four seasons" that is, a person who sella the vegetables peculiar to each season of the year. These people have BO rented stall, but like uie basket women of London, migrate from one place to the other, selling their rommoUities to the passer-by. They arc very peculiar in their mode of addressing cnstomers — makiug use of certain endearing epithets aostly selected from the articles they deal in — *' my little cabbage" ** my little roseC* "wy pr^ty bird^*' **my sweet fiawer^ Sfc, 4rc., are perfectly irresistible The marckamde dee muArt saisons who stands in the HaUCf or Market qf the Innocents, pays a rent to the manidpality of Paris.

2 THE OLD MAN OF THE BASTILB.

of every Poistarde de la Hall€,-f I often spent a solitary hour in calculating the degrees of comparative misery to which this relatively insignificant class might reduce the good burgesses of Paris, if, during the agitation of any question of public interest, its worthy members should turn despotic, and like those of our House of Commons, cut off the supplies.

Who could depict the consternation, the horror, the despair, of the Parisian Gargantua, on finding himself suddenly deprived of his petits pois, (young green peas) his haricots verds, (young French beans) and of the long category of green-meat after which his heart sighs in the season ? Paris would rise en masse, and suborn a deputation to deprecate the choler of the market gentry, should the latter ever think proper to militate, in the manner aforesaid, against their own immediate interests.

After the scenes of actual life, my greatest gratification was to wander over those of life and actions past long since — to muse over the antiquities of the Cite — to lurk about the spots hallowed by association, and lose myself in the labyrinth of their early history. What scenes have I witnessed as imagination would carry me back to the time when the ruins, now peeping out here and there like decrepid old men, were in the hey-day of their youth, upright and whole J proudly setting Time at defiance — laughing to scorn the ravages he threatened to their cement and stone-work — the flesh and blood, the bone, marrow and muscle of their existence ! Often has an unbidden tear paid tribute to these friends of the world's youth — to these venerable relics of defunct centuries — these half-living mummies of things that have been. As friends I love them — as old friends I venerate them — as deceased friends, I have paid their memory the tribute due from one friend to another.

But not to digress further:

In the course of my peregrinations through the tortuous streets of this Metropolis, I chanced to meet with an individual whose eccentricities were so remarkable, that my attention was attracted to him, although I observed he was unnoticed by the passers-by, most of whom appeared to know him.

He was sitting on an old shattered post, immediately opposite the site of the far-famed Bastile St. Antoinb, his chin resting on his left hand placed over his right, which grasped a staff — a staff of the olden time — with a knob of massive gold, most curiously fashioned. His hair, that is as much of it as escaped from beneath an ancient three-

t The Poiasarde de la Halle; Anglice, the Billingsgate fiah-w^fe. The one is a perfect type of the other. Those familiar 'with the horrors of the Revolution will not haye forgotten the conspicuous part these women played in the tragedy of the '• Princesae Lamballe." They were more violent than the most blood-thirsty of the men who forced tiie Palais Royal and the ThuUeries, and the unfortunate monarch, who ultimately fell a sacrifice to the miscreants, was even snitten on by a Poiasarde, who, bolder than her companions, obtained by this act the uneuTiable title of '* La Cracixbusb," or The Spittcr. She was subsequently guillotined.

{Souvenirs de la Revolution^ par Andre.)

THE OLD MAN OP THE BA8TILE. 3

cornered hat^ was white and grizzly, and confined behind in a small black bag 3 in fact his whole exterior bespoke one of the ancien regime.

Although his person bore the indices of extreme old age, inward sorrow seemed to have furrowed his visage still more deeply, and so profound was the expression of sadness in it, that it produced in me a corresponding sentiment, and augmented the interest I already felt in this old man sitting by the way-side.

Whilst I stood gazing intently at him, his eyes were turned alternately towards where once stood the Bastile, and to Heaven, when his lips would move as though he solicited a favour of the Eternal.

Equally unwilling to disturb his reverie, or to leave the spot without gleaning some information respecting him, I addressed a question to a civil looking Commissioner who was standing at the door of a wine-shop, a few yards off.

''Every body knows him. Sir, but nobody knows who he is. You are a stranger ?"

" Yes," replied I. *' But tell me, does he often come here ?'*

'' I believe you, Sir ! regularly every morning, and remains sitting as you now see him, sometimes for hours, sometimes only for one. Do you want a Commissioner ?** #

No ! I thank you. And pray where does he live r" said I. On the sixth floor in that house." Here my informant indicated a house in the Rue St. Antoine, and added : '' shall I go with you. Sir >*'

" It is not necessary. But it is surprising nobody knows any thing about him/* remarked I to my informant.

" Why Monsieur! how can any body know who or what he is, when he never opens his mouth ! We have given him the nick-name of The Tacitubn."

''And not inappropriately! Yet surely there must be in the neighbourhood some old inhabitant that does know him."

" No there is not, sir ! The Taciturn appears to be the oldest inhabitant of the Quarter St. Anthony. Father Cocard, who is more than eighty, has known him the last fifty years, and that's a pretty long time !"

" Well, but the porter* of the house,*' interrupted I.

"The porter !*' retorted he contemptuously. " The porter knows as little of him as you do, or I. When he first went concierge to the house, twenty years ago, the Taciturn was then the oldest

"But did not his predecessor know any thing about him ?**

' * The Porter or Concierge of a French house is a venr important personage, and plays a .conipicuous part in the domeatio economy of an establiahment. If the landlord does not inhabit the house, the porter becomes his representative, and receives the rents. Ab the houses are generally very large and contain many families, he is a necessaiy appendage to answer calls, &c. &c. Woe to the man who is in his PortflK's black books !

B 9

THR OLD MAN OF THE BASTILE. (t ^

I tell you nobody does. It is a mystery, and that's all about it.*'

Giving my irascible informant a twenty sous piece, I again turned my attention to the old man.

Arising slowly from his stone seat, he remained for a few seconds gazing as before, then abruptly turned off to the right into the Rue St, Antoine. Thither I followed him, until he reached a dilapidated building, apparently the remains of a religious house, although now converted to a less holy use, the lower portion being rented by the landlord of a wine-shop and the upper part by some of the poorest class, and not the most reputable of this thickly populated vicinage.

Hugging myself with the hope that he had not remarked my presence, I had got fairly within the threshold, he being already on the first landing, when turning suddenly about, he descended the stairs and faced me, staring with such intensity into my very soul, that my conscience smote me for seeking to fathom his secret. Having however completed his scrutiny, he as rapidly turned away again, mounting the steep stairs of the house with a speed I had judged him incapable of exercising.

Follow him I could not : I durst not explore the privacy of age and misery ; but my curiosity was so strongly excited, I was determined to satisfy it.

It would be uninteresting^ to detail the lengthy colloquy which took place between me and the porter of the house relative to the old man, for the said porter being equally hard of hearing as of comprehension, I was at some pains to elicit the little information he possessed, and even that little I obtained only by following it up through the circtiitous windings he thought proper to convey it in.

The substance of his commuuicatior\ was, that he, the porter, had in this capacity served the house twenty- three years and four months come last Candlemas ; that The Taciturn was even then the oldest lodger, as he learnt of the porter his predecessor, whose predecessor had also known him, but only as the old man of the garret.

Many were my conjectures as 1 returned home, and deep was my reverie, as I pondered over the mystery which evidently shrouded the old man ; and somehow I could not refrain from mixing him up with the bloody scenes of the Revolution, and with the darker and not less cruel ones of the Bastile.

A fortnight glided past, and every day I met the old man at the shattered post, without however having succeeded in drawing him into conversation -, although once or twice I imagined that his eyes, on meeting mine, kindled with emotion — an emotion which was perhaps caused by the semblance in a fellow creature of sympathy with his state of solitude ) perhaps by the respect a stranger paid to the untold, silent sorrows of an aged man.

At such a moment I endeavoured to attract his notice by addressing him, and one day being more determined than usual, forestalled him at his post, which he on arriving found occupied. He said nothing, but that steady gaze, so intense^ so icy, drove my blood shivering through my veins, and brought contrition back. I arose.

THE OLD MAN OF THE BASTILB. 5

and led bim to his accustomed seat, apologizing for my wilful rudeness 'y still he spoke not, neither did he make any sign of thankfulness. I could fancy him saying it was his seat^ it had been his for the last half century^ and no one had a right to deprive him of it ; having done so, to restore it was but a matter of course and of justice.

I was now nearly certain that the old man was dumb. I say, nearly certain, because I had observed him narrowly enough to warrant me iu entertaining doubts as to this peculiarity , more than once he had opened his lips as though about to speak, but as suddenly closed them again, as if compelled to do so by some latent motive

Time, the ripener of events, cleared up the mystery. The tenth anniversar}' of the three glorious days was ushered in by the deep thunder of the cannon, whilst the dull and melancholy boom of the bouT' don of Notre Dame, moaned its solemn salute to the dead.

The inhabitants of every quartier had deserted home to crowd to one spot, to the Column of July, erected on the Place de la Bastille, the approaches to which were blocked up by troops. The inauguration was that day to take place -, the ashes of the victims of 1830 were to be deposited in their last resting place : in the vaults built on the site of the dungeons of the Bastile !

The remains of the Sons of Liberty, side by side with those of the Victims of Despotism !

I could not approach the shattered post, and sought the old man iti vain. The neighbour at the corner of the street had not seen him, and it was the first time he had missed coming since the neighbour had been a resident there ', now upwards of fifteen years ! I went to the old man*s house, and even penetrated to the door of his chamber, exploring it through the key-bole. It appeared empty ; the only symptom of its being inhabitable was the presence of an iron bedstead, and of a large fire which was still burning fiercely.

I returned to witness the ceremony of the inauguration, my mind however wholly taken up with conjectures as to the whereabout of the mysterious individual whose disappearance had been so sudden. Totally unable to solve the enigma, I returned slowly home through dense throngs of living beings, and scarcely conscious of whither I was going, found myself at my door ere I imagined myself near it.

The old man was standing there !

And there / stood, as in a day-dream, transfixed, and mute with astonishment. Yet it was no dream, for there he was before me — the same meaning stare glazing his eyes, the same characteristic sadness in his countenance. 1 advanced, making an effort to pass by him into the hotel, but, looking significantly at me, he darted off homewards at a pace I could with difficulty keep up with; for I found I was following this mysterious being, without even interrogating myself at to the nature of the magnetic influence which drew me after him.

We reached his lodging a little before night-fall. The fire was eitiiigaiahedf all but a few embers $ his bed, (at the head of which wu a rodely carved crucifix) was clean and made up 3 near it stood

6 THE OLD MAN OF THE BA8TILE.

a small table and a night-lamp^ which^ with sundry articles for domestic use, formed the whole of the chamber-furniture.

He locked the door, and seating himself on the bed, signified his wish that I should do the same. I complied, when the old man doffing his hat, yet maintaining his old position as at the shattered post, abruptly began :

''Thou art the first human being to whom I have opened my lips, since the siege of the Bastile -, and art the last of the race shall bear the voice of one who has long been but a walking shadow on the face of the earth !"

The accents of the old man were plaintive ; his voice was deep and hollow, but not loud, scarcely rising above a whisper; yet his articulation was singularly distinct, and the effect these few words produced upon me was unlike any thing 1 had ever before experienced. /Is he spoke, I could fancy the hollow tomb lifting up its voice, and revealing the '* secrets of the world unknown.'*

I was on the point of making some observation in answer, but he motioned me into silence, and continued :

'' I know thee not, yet art thou the man I will trust. My hours are numbered : my knell has tolled !**

Here he applied his thumb to a spring which forced open the top of his staff; extracting therefrom a diminutive strip of parchment he placed the same in my hand.

The parchment was old, and covered with written characters, to me incomprehensible ; surrounded by them was the following inscription in black letter :

Without understanding how this prediction related to my host, I handed him back the scroll with an appearance of mystification not equivocal. He replaced the parchment, and hastened to relieve my ▼ery apparent embarrassment.

"That is my nativity!*' said he. "The dead have come to the dead. 1830! 1789! My destiny is accomplished! Listen!

" My father was chaplain of the Bastile, in which he had been incarcerated for practising Legerdemain, Alchymy, and Astrology, and was appointed on the demise of his predecessor. My mother was a lady of rank, who being confined in the prison with her family, was removed by my father to a remote part of it, where she fell an unwilling victim to his incontinence. I was the fruit of that unholy amour. My mother sunk, ultimately, under the cruel treatment she experienced ; her family was kept in ignorance of her fate. I was called after the tower in the dungeon of which I first drew breath — La Tour du Puits, When I was grown up, my father, whom as such I knew not unttf his death, procured my appointment as one of the Porte-clefs (turnkeys) of the Bastile, when atobriquet was given me which I leave thee to discover. I was born in 17 ] 0, when my nativity was cast. On his death bed my father dis-