The year one; a page of the French revolution ...

Front matter

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Book

Preface

The action of the following romance takes place principally in Paris at that period of the French Revolution when the smouldering hostility which, from the year 1789, had been testified against Royalty, and Royalism had at last broken into open flame, and when the Reign of Terror was introduced by the massacres of the Swiss Guard and the massacres in the prisons — and notably in those of La Force and L’Abbaye.

dSTo romance could possibly be written with any propriety of sequence which should embrace the whole of that hideous period — a period as remarkable as it was revolting — and I have, therefore, confined this narrative to that space of time during which the above mentioned events took place. I have also, with a view of not encroaching on the domain properly belonging to the historian, refrained from introducing any of the most striking figures amongst the Revolutionists as characters in this book, but have, instead, contented myself with depicting as truthfully as is in my power the effect, for evil, which those figures produced.

VI

PREFACE

To do so I have gone entirely to French writers and, above all, to French writers of the period ; while making use principally, and wherever it has been possible, of the records left behind by those who had lain in deadly peril and who, after having escaped by the mercy of heaven, wrote careful memoirs and diaries of their trials and tribulations. Every private family of any note in France is full of such records as these, to say nothing of the vast stores of literature on the subject with which the State libraries and museums are filled ; and to more than one French family I am indebted not only for a sight of some of these treasures but, also, for many extracts willingly made and forwarded to me.

J. B-B.

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

I. LA MARQUISE D’AUBRAY DE BRI-

COURT 1

Chapter I La Marquise D’aubray De Bricourt

Because of the hot mist which hung over the sea upon this June evening, whereby the waves seemed as though they were smoking ; because, too, of the dense bank of clouds — purple in some places, leaden-coloured in others — which lay low on the horizon in the direction of the Channel Islands, the boat which was making her way towards the dunes was almost an indistinguishable speck. A speck that might (as she sometimes went a point or half a point off her course, and thereby caused her foresail to gleam like the under part of a seagull’s wing) have been mistaken for a buoy tossing on the waves, or, to accustomed eyes, might have appeared to be what it really was, a ship’s launch coming ashore. And now, as the boat came nearer, even the uninitiated, if any such could have been found in Brittany, would have known that this was actually the case. With a glass, if not with the naked eye, the onlooker would have noted the gilt sailor’s knots on her bows surrounding the badge — a dragon — of the vessel of war to which she belonged ; he w r ould have seen by the very manner in which the sailors dragged their oars through the water that the rowers were men-ofwar’s men, while, also, the observer would perhaps have understood that although the figure which sat in the stern was enveloped in a rough tarpaulin jacket, the hood of which covered all but the wearer’s features, it was that of an officer. An officer because, in these times, which, although England and France did not happen to be at war, were still uncertain ones, neither petty officers nor men were allowed to go ashore in charge of the boats.

The two countries were not yet at daggers drawn in this month of June, 1792, but were very likely to be so ere long, everybody thought. Nay, if all should turn out as was expected, it was deemed highly probable that soon the whole civilised world would be up in arms against France, in its determination to put down once and forever the horrible state of anarchy and blood-lust which was beginning to prevail in that distracted country.

But at present England had done nothing — except hold out a promise of help to the Royalists ; while Pitt’s assurance that the Bourbon family should never come to harm nor the old nobility of France be destroyed had neither been fulfilled nor seemed likely of fulfillment. Wherefore, as

D’AUBRAY DE BRICOURT the launch of the “Dragon” swept under the bows of the French corvette “ Le Furieux,” which was lying with her sails unbent a mile from shore (to prevent les emigres from escaping), the usual courtesy salutations were duly exchanged. The English officer in command of the launch touched the spot where his cap doubtless was beneath the tarpaulin hood, the tricolour was dipped at the ensign-staff of the corvette ; the sea-services of two supposed-to-be friendly nations interchanged politenesses with one another.

Yet beneath his breath the English officer muttered words that might have been “ Bloodthirsty vagabonds ” or “ Republican savages,” or something of the kind ; the first lieutenant of “Le Furieux,” whose watch it was, muttered to himself “ Fichtre jpour ces Anglais ” and also cursed ces Anglais soundly. “ They shelter the emigres by thousands,” he continued to mumble ; “ and protect all who have got into the islands or crossed the channel. The English Channel as they call it — why ? It washes our shores as well as theirs ! But then, they are English — bullies and brigands.”

After which splenetive expressions — which did no Englishman alive one jot of harm — he continued to walk his deck and to spit to leeward, perhaps because he was a sailor, or perhaps because, on that side, England lay.

Meanwhile, or rather before he had finished his objurgations, the “ Dragon’s ” launch had got

THE YEAR OJSTE ashore by running into a little creek, or river coming from inland through the dunes, a river about which there were pleasing fictions told of salmon entering it from the sea, and of fat speckled trout which might be caught by those who would give themselves the trouble to do so ; but as remarkable fish stories have always been told, not only in France but elsewhere from time immemorial, this agreeable legend need not be regarded. Then, the mainsail and foresail having been lowered with true man-of-war precision at the right moment, and the launch having fetched alongside, the casks which had been brought ashore to be filled with water were hoisted out, and the task of replenishing them from the supposititious salmon river promptly commenced. For the “ Dragon was cruising in that channel which bore the name so offensive to the French first lieutenant, for certain purposes that need little explanation, since it may easily be conceived that the soon-to-be One and Indivisible Government was not too polite to any of our countrymen or countrywomen whom it found upon the seas or their coasts, while, as the vessel wanted fresh water whenever she could get it, it was the habit of the “ Dragon ” to send ashore for it frequently.

The dunes, through which the creek ran, formed a portion of a wild, desolate, and barren region stretching an indefinite distance along the coast, and, although partly covered by the sea at

D’AUBRAY DE BRICOURT particular times and at particularly high tides, they were more often than not bare and exposed — as at the present season.

Piled into irregular ridges and heaps, ordinarily fifty to sixty feet high, though, in some cases, considerably higher, these hills or mounds, which are the absolute dunes themselves, seemed to stand as evidences of the extraordinary power which that mighty monster, the ocean wind, could exert against all things smitten by its force. For, here, it was plain enough to be seen that, down the long roll of almost forgotten centuries, this wind had gradually been driving inland the sand and shells which, in their turn and as their mass became compact, were themselves driving further inland all human life. Trees that had once grown upon this sandy shore, which, if not very vast nor stately, had at least been living vegetation, now exhibited to the onlooker nothing but their dead topmost branches above the sand which had enveloped all below those branches, and showed thereby how the process of invasion and destruction was going on continuously. A little further inland might also be seen, peeping above the accumulation of which the lower ridges were composed, the broken and burst-in roofs of what had once been cattle sheds or outhouses — though gone was the farm itself to which they must have at some former time belonged ! And, still further in, but on a slight rising of the ground, was a church, shut up and, to all appearances, deserted. For the sand was close up to the churchyard wall, while some of it had crept over into the churchyard itself, and was gradually, in an insidious but sure and certain manner (a manner as certain and as sure as the death which had already taken all those who lay within the graves, and would, in time, take all who walked and breathed upon this earth and all who were ever to come), covering over and enveloping the graves themselves as, soon, it would envelop the grave stones and, some day, the church itself, even to the cross above the topmost pinnacle of the tower.

Slowly, and because he had nothing whatever to do until all the water-casks should he filled, which would not be for at least an hour, the lieutenant who had come in command of the launch had strolled up the incline of sand towards this now neglected place of worship, and stood regarding the work that the elements had already performed, while contemplating and understanding quite well what further destruction the never ceasing and untiring wind would eventually perform. He was calculating, too, how many years it would take for the church to be slowly surrounded and choked and engulfed by the huge sandy billows.

Yet he started with a feeling of faint surprise, of almost, it might be said, languid astonishment, at seeing that in this graveyard — so doubly typ-

D’AUBKAY DE BBICOUKT ical of death, since not only did it contain the remains of the forefathers of the vicinity, but also that edifice and its surroundings which were, in their turn, doomed to as certain an extinction as those who lay beneath the sand-covered sod — there was still a sign, an evidence, of human life. Not much of a sign, it is true, nor an evidence of strong robust vitality, but still life, vitality, itself ; life and vitality as expressed and testified in the figure of an old, bent man, upon whose head there was scarcely any hair beneath the cap of Liberty which adorned his shiny poll, and upon whose face was a mass of deeply indented lines and wrinkles.

“ What does he do ? ” muttered the young lieutenant, George Hope, to himself, as he regarded this old creature, who wore over his eyes an enormous pair of goggles. “ He is at work chopping away at one of those tombstones, yet one would suppose they were scarcely worth repair. They must have stood a long while, seeing that they are black and grimed with age, while surely none are buried here now. The earth, when it is not covered with sand, shows plainly that it has not been disturbed for many a day.”

Then, seeing that this ancient creature placed a chisel upon the tombstone he was busy at, and struck at its handle with a mallet, so that in a moment there appeared a white strip on the discoloured stone which caused Hope to think of an inch of white ribbon laid upon a square of dirty grey, lie crossed the church wall and went towards the man. He was able to do so by simply placing one of his feet in front of him and drawing the other after it, and then leaping lightly down on the other side, since the sand was quite level with the top of the wall on the side towards the sea, while, in the churchyard itself, that which had been blown over was everywhere rising higher and higher.

“ Mon ami” he said to the old man, in very excellent French (he had been at school in Jersey for some years), “ what work do you find to do here, if I may ask ? Surely you are not going to inscribe the name of some recently dead person on that tomb ? ”

“I inscribe nothing,” the old man said, without glancing up at the } r oung officer ; “ instead, I destroy that which is there. You can see for yourself.”

Looking at the tombstone, as suggested by the old man, George Hope did see that it was as the other had said. He saw upon the stone in question that, between the words Ci-git which followed the oval form of its head, and a name which was easily to be read (the name of Lucille d’Aubray de Bricourt, as well as the date of 1649) there was that freshly made white strip — or rather whiter strip — which had been caused by the chisel and mallet.

“You erase something,” he said, “something that has been on this stone since 1649. It is a

D’AUBRAY DE BRICOURT long time, almost a hundred and fifty years. That which has been there so long might have remained, one would have thought. I do not understand.”

“ What was there,” said the old man, with a little sniggering laugh, “ described and spoke of a thing which has existed until now, or almost now, but no longer. Therefore I erase the name, the description, as the thing is itself erased forever, by order of the government, of the Legislative Assembly,” and he touched his Phrygian-like cap with the chisel.

“ I understand,” the young officer said, “ it was a title ; and the Assembly wars even against such a thing as that — the title and description of a woman so long since dead. Surely it might have remained without harming any, even the glorious Assembly, and even though there is no longer any noblesse .”

“ Except in the human heart,” the old man said, quoting the clap-trap of the Republican orators. “ Except there.”

“ Yes,” said Hope, with a faintly contemptuous sneer, “it is there, doubtless. The new rulers prove it daily — hourly.” Then, concluding these reflections, he asked, “ What might the title of the poor dead woman — dead so long ago — have been ? ”

“That of marquise. Marquise d’Aubray de Bricourt. A great family. A proud family. A wicked family, even here in Brittany, where the nobles were not so bad as elsewhere. Now, there is neither marquis nor marquise ; no titles whatever, and,” lifting his chisel and mallet, 44 neither are there any 4 Des.’ They, too, are an aristocratic appellation, and there are no aristocrats,” whereupon he struck out the 44 de ” before the name Bricourt.

44 And the 4 d ’ before Aubray ? ” exclaimed Hope, still contemptuously. 44 ’Tis the same thing. Should it not go too ? ”

44 Away it goes,” said the old man. And in a second it also had gone.

44 Pleasant labour, and evidently to your taste,” said the lieutenant. 44 Well ! doubtless there are other tombs of the offending aristocrats left for you to work upon ; ” and he strolled away, intent upon going round the church and regarding it from all sides, since it was more or less of a curiosity owing to the fate that was rapidly overtaking it.

44 Ay,” mumbled the old man , 44 pleasant labour, indeed. And there are scores of Aubrays inside the church and out. While as for you,” and he glanced at the back of the young officer as he disappeared behind the buttress, 44 well ! your garments show what you are. An English sailor — un officier. Therefore, an aristocrat, too, since all English officers are that, they say. Pity ’tis the people do not rise in your land and slay the noblesse as they do here. It would at least stop all of you from endeavouring to assist our downfallen tyrants.”

D’AUBEAY DE BEICOURT

Hope had disappeared behind the buttress spoken of, intent upon his walk round the church and any view which he might obtain of the interior by looking through the windows, a thing that was becoming easier every day — every hour — as the accumulating sand raised the earth’s level higher and higher ; but, as he turned round the wall, he stopped amazed. For, to his astonishment, he came full upon a young woman behind that buttress who was bending forward in an attitude which could be mistaken for none other than the attitude of a person listening intently. Yet — listening to what! Surely not to the conversation he had been holding with the old workman, nor to the man’s contemptible gloatings over the downfall of all that had represented the nobility and gentle birth of France. Surely not to that !

“ Madame,” he said, even as the lady — for lady she undoubtedly was, though dressed as plainly as any Breton farmer’s daughter might have been, “ I beg ten thousand pardons for coming so abruptly round that corner. Naturally, I could not know ”

“Monsieur,” she said, interrupting him, even while at the same moment she abandoned the slight stooping, listening attitude she had previously adopted, and now stood tall and erect before him ; “ monsieur, this is no time for courteous phrases, though I recognise and appreciate those you have uttered. Monsieur, are you not the English officer who has come ashore from that ship out there ? That English war-ship ? ”

“ Yes, madame, I have that honour.”

“When do you return ? ”

“Directly we have got all the water we require.”

“Will you assist me? I am in great need of assistance, I assure you.”

“Madame may command any services I can

offer her. Yet, I avow, I hardly know ”

“Sir,” said the lady, while as she spoke she lowered her voice as though fearing that the old man at work in the graveyard might overhear her; “sir, will you take me to your ship? Will you give me a passage to England, or even to Jersey only? I am desirous of fleeing out of France. I desire to become une emigree .”

Chapter II An Omen, Perhaps

As Lieutenant Hope’s eyes rested upon this lady during the few seconds he was pondering what answer he should make to her strange request, he observed that she was beautiful. Her hair was of a rich golden hue — so golden that it brought to his mind the recollection of ripening wheat-fields glistening beneath a brilliant sun, or — which was more prosaic ! — of new guineas fresh from the mint; her features were of that soft rounded cast which, by itself, confers beauty on those who possess it ; her eyes were of a sweet, clear grey that almost deepened into blue ; while her mouth was small and exquisitely shaped, the short upper lip completing her charms. For the rest, she was more tall than otherwise, and the possessor of a figure which in its outlines and fullness left nothing to be desired. Indeed, in those few moments of George Hope’s meditations, he found himself thinking that this was a woman whose beauty should not be enveloped in the homely garments she wore, but rather in silks and satins, as well as be adorned with jewellery ; a woman more fitted to stand within the hall of 13 some ancient chateau and mingle with noble and illustrious guests than to be here, concealing herself, as undoubtedly she was doing, behind an old and ruined church, while clad in garments that were little better than those of a bourgeoise.

“ You do not answer, monsieur,” the lady said, as those sweet eyes looked into his. “ Will you not grant my request, or is it impossible that you should do so ? ”

“ It does not rest with me, madame,” George replied, speaking very slowly, and as though weighing every word before he uttered it. “ If it did, there would be no hesitation in my answer. But it is to the captain of my ship that the request must be addressed. Without him — without his permission — I could not possibly act.”

“ Hot even to save a woman ! ”

“ Ah ! madame,” the young lieutenant exclaimed, “ do not make it hard for me to answer you as I am forced to do. But our navy has its customs — the customs of the service — even as your own navy has ”

“ Our navy!” the lady exclaimed, bitterly, “ our navy ! The navy of this so-called government.”

“ Madame,” continued the young officer, who, if he had doubted before that the woman before him was of the Royalist side — of the aristocrats — could doubt it no longer ; “ madame, I can do this. I can call our boat away at once and return to the ship. Then, also at once, I will con-

AN OMEN, PERHAPS

vey your desire to the captain, your request to be taken on board as une emigree desiring to escape out of France.”

44 Will he refuse or assent, do you think ? ”

“ I think he will assent,” Hope replied, with a slight smile. “We are not at war with the Assembly — at present — but we are not friendly with it. Who can be, who can approve of

its ”

“ Murders ! ”

“Yes — of its murders. I think,” Hope said again, “that the captain will assent. Then, if he

does, I will bring the boat back for you ”

“ God in heaven bless you ! ”

“ And — and — it will be dark, or almost dark by then. The lookout in ‘ Le Furieux ’ will not observe that we have a woman in the boat ”

“ Could they, the men in 4 Le Furieux,’ prevent you and your men from taking me to the English ship ? You — English sailors ! ”

“ They could not perhaps prevent us from doing so, but, undoubtedly, they would try. There is a law against assisting emigrants to leave France, and, if I understand rightly , 4 Le Furieux ’ is here for the express purpose of preventing emigrants from doing so. The Channel Islands are so close, and so very many of the French upper classes have escaped to them.”

44 But you are English. English sailors ! And your ship lying out there is as large and powerful as 4 Le Furieux.’ ”

“It is not a question of the two ships, madame,” said George Hope, with another slight smile and also a slight bow ; “ there would be no trouble about that. But, instead, the difficulty lies in getting to our ship. Madame will understand that when I take her off to-night, as I feel sure I shall do, we shall only be in a small boat which must pass under the bows of ‘Le Furieux’ as she has done on other occasions, and as she will do in half-an-hour from now when we return with the fresh water. She must do so because, if she did otherwise, suspicion would be instantly aroused at her taking a new course. Now, if ‘ Le Furieux’ knows we have a French subject on board when we do pass under those bows, she will undoubtedly call on us to stop and, if we do not obey, she will open fire on us and probably sink us.”

“ But they must not know. And, surely, in the dark, they need not know.”

“Precisely. Indeed, I assure you, madame, that if it were not for the daylight which is still with us, I would almost decide to take you now, so certain do I feel that our captain will receive you on board.”

“ Ah, monsieur, you are very good. And, also, you are very thoughtful. I had forgotten that that vessel — that vessel of our new rulers,” and there was a world of scorn in the woman’s voice as she spoke, “ would undoubtedly intercept you. Well, so be it, monsieur. You will do what you say ;

AN OMEN, PERHAPS U

you will obtain your captain’s permission and come back for me ? ”

“ I will endeavour to obtain the captain’s permission, as, I again say, I feel sure I shall ; and then madame may be very certain I will come back for her. While for safety’s sake we will come armed, as well as bring a jacket and cap for madame to assume. With those on and the tarpaulin over — over — well, over madame’s hair there will be little danger of her being seen to be a woman.”

“ Armed ! ” the lady said, meditatively, and at the same time apparently heedless of Hope’s later words. “ Armed ! Ah , Diev, / what am I doing. Exposing you to danger ! ”

“Madame need not consider that,” the lieutenant replied with another bow ; “ danger is a sailor’s trade.”

While, had he not been addressing a woman, and she a Frenchwoman, he would perhaps have added that English sailors did not count danger as much of a factor in a contest between themselves and their hereditary enemies : but, because of her sex and her nationality, as well as because he was a gentleman, he forbore to say or hint any such thing.

“ You do not demand to know who or what I am ; who the woman is who asks this service of you ? ” the lady said, now looking openly into George Hope’s eyes.

“ Madame is a woman, and, since she is desirous of leaving France in these troublous times through which the country is passing, I am anxious to assist her. I do not know that anything more is required ; though if madame will honour me by giving her name, it would perhaps be as well. My captain may think I should have asked it, and that he should know to whom he is about to give a passage.”

“ My name,” the lady said, “ is Lucienne, and I am the Marquise d’Aubray de Bricourt.”

“ The Marquise d’Aubray de Bricourt ! ” exclaimed Hope ; “ the Marquise d’Aubray de Bricourt ! ”

“ Yes ! You speak as though you had heard it before, as though you knew it. Is it so ? ”

“ I became acquainted with it a quarter of an hour ago for the first time,” replied Hope, while as he spoke his eyes stole round the buttress towards where the graveyard was, “ and now, by a coincidence, I hear it again. There is,” he continued very gently, and with his eyes upon the ground, “ something being done to a — a — tombstone there. And — and ”

“ There is being done to the tombstones of the dead much that is similar to what is being done to the living bearers, to the inheritors of their names. God ! ” the Marquise exclaimed, “ because a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago, these people had title and rank, which was inscribed over their graves after they had departed, those graves are now to be defiled.

AN OMEN, PEBHAPS

The living representatives are not enough to glut the ire of our tyrants, they must insult even the dead.”

“ It is indeed an ignominious revenge, and doubtless one of the causes which leads Madame la Marquise to desire to quit temporarily a land in which such things can be done — to, if I may venture to speculate on such things — desire, perhaps — to join those who have left that land earlier.”

“No,” Madame de Bricourt said, “no — it is not that ; I could have borne all as others are bearing it here in Brittany — as the Lescures, the Bochejacqueleins, the Dessessarts, a hundred others, are doing. I could have waited as they are waiting to bring about a counter revolution that shall crush these rebels forever — a restoration of the king to his throne. Heavens ! why did he ever fly, why did he not face them like a man ? But — but — there are other things. Others — others Oh, sir, I cannot tell you my his-

tory now. Later, if we escape — if I escape, you shall know it.”

Hope bowed as she uttered these words, murmuring while he did so that he had no thought of intruding on her private affairs or of seeking her confidence ; then he said :

“ Madame la Marquise, I see my coxswain making signals to me that the work is done and the boat ready to return to the ship. For a while — an hour or so, not longer — I must leave you, and

I beseech you to trust in me. I know my captain’s sentiments, which are the sentiments of an honourable and upright English gentleman; he will not refuse to let me return for you. No, not even though what he may do will embroil England and France, or rather England and the new French rulers. Where,” he continued, becoming instantly practical, “ shall I expect to rejoin you on my return ashore ? ”