The Rising Storm

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On April 26th at four o'clock in the afternoon, in a forlorn hope that he might yet save the peace of Europe, he set out for Paris.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A la Lanterne

ROGER reached Paris on May 13th. He had used every means in his power to expedite his journey, but even with hard riding it had taken him eight days to get from Madrid to Pamplona, then another two on muleback, skirting hair-raising precipices through the misty passes of the Pyrenees, before he reached Bayonne. After that his passage had been far swifter, although no less exhausting, as he had travelled night and day by fast post-chaise.

He arrived in Paris dead-beat, but vastly cheered by two matters of the greatest importance to him. Although Don Diego's party had left Aranjuez twelve days in advance of himself he had passed it two nights before at Orleans. Isabella had then still been alive and he had succeeded in stealing forty-eight hours' march on what he now regarded as the rival Embassy.

From Bordeaux onwards he had enquired at every principal inn for news of the travellers ahead, and at six o'clock on the evening of the nth he had caught up with them. The four coaches that made up their cavalcade were being washed down in the yard of the Hotel St. Aignau, and he had learned that they intended to dine and pass the night there. A cautious reconnaissance had given him a glimpse of the party through a downstairs window, and having seen that Isabella looked perfectly well he had driven on through the night towards Paris.

Had it not been for a breakdown that night outside Toury, which delayed him several hours, he would have been in the capital by the following evening, but as it was his post-chaise did not set him down at La Belle Etoile until the early hours of the Thursday morning. Worn out as he was he knew that he would be fit for nothing that day, so he slept through it, and got up only to have an evening meal.

After it, in order to bring himself up to date with events in France during his three months' absence, he invited his old friend, Monsieur Blanchard, to join him in a bottle of wine. When they had settled down in the parlour, in reply to Roger's first question the landlord replied:

'Alas, Monsieur, Things here are no better than when you left us. Money and bread are scarce, and Monsieur de Lafayette seems quite incapable of keeping order. Not a day passes but there is some disturb­ance and people killed without the perpetrators of such crimes being brought to justice. Since the execution of the Marquis de Favras the mobs have taken openly to hanging people that they do not like.'

'De Favras,' murmured Roger. 'He was accused of being mixed up in some counter-revolutionary plot with the Comte de Provence last winter, was he not? I recall that his trial was taking place at the time I left for England.'

The Norman nodded. 'Whether the King's brother was really involved I know not, but he saved himself from accusation by giving evidence against de Favras; and under the new law that decrees the same punishment for all classes the Marquis was hanged. 'Twas the first time a nobleman has ever died by the rope, and the sight of his body dangling from a gibbet in the Place de Greve seems to have set a fashion for the scum of the Faubourgs to murder their victims in that way. You will know how our lamps in Paris are strung up Dy ropes to their posts, so that they can be lowered to be lit or put out. 'Tis easy as winking to lower the nearest lantern, detach it, and string up a man in its place. Two or three times a week now, when the mob catches some unfortunate whom it does not like, the cry goes up 'A la lanterne! A la lanterne! and before the National Guard can come to his rescue he is choking his life out at the top of a pole.'

'And what of the Royal Family?' Roger asked.

'They are still at the Tuileries. It is said that many plots have been made to carry them off from Paris, and each time there is a rumour of one the mob threatens to storm the Palace. The nearest they got to doing so was about a month ago. There was some shooting and a few people were killed, but the National Guard succeeded in driving off the rioters.'

'The National Assembly is, then, no nearer achieving a strong and stable Government than when I was here last?'

Monsieur Blanchard shook his head. 'Nay. 'Tis if anything more uncertain of itself; and more than ever dominated by the mobs and what passes at a Club called the Jacobins. Soon after you left us the Assembly elected the Bishop of Autun as its President. He seems a man of sense, but he is greatly hated by his own Order, and all who hold the Church in regard; particularly since his measure last November for confiscating all Church property has been seized upon as an excuse for many outrages. The intention was to sell a great part of the Church lands and fill the empty coffers of the nation with the proceeds; but the sans­culottes put a different interpretation on it. They say they are the 'nation' and that the riches of the Church now belong to them. So there have been numerous cases of mobs breaking into religious institutions to rob them of their altar plate, and any money that is to be found in their treasuries.'

Roger asked many other questions, and although no event of major importance had taken place and no great riots on a scale of those in the preceding year, it was a grim tale of the general dissolution of order and increased lawlessness that the honest Norman had to unfold. In all but name the mob were now the masters and although, in a big city like Paris, the average citizen rarely actually witnessed an act of violence, unpunished killings and lootings were constantly occurring in one part or another of it.

Just as Roger was about go up to his room again, Monsieur Blanchard said: 'Since Monsieur speaks French as well as most French­men, I strongly advise him to pass himself off as one while in the streets these days, for the English are become far from popular.'

'Why so?' Roger enquired.

' 'Tis on account of the rumours of war that are in everyone's mouth. I do not know the rights of it. Some say that England is arming to attack Spain hoping that we shall feel obliged to go to the assistance of our old ally, which would then give the English a good excuse for seizing our colonies while we are in our present weak state. Others that it is a plot hatched between our Court and the Spaniards, to make war the excuse for marching a Spanish army into France, and with it depriving the people of their liberties. As a result of all this talk, both Englishmen and Spaniards are now regarded here with much suspicion, and liable to become the object of rough usage by the mob.'

Roger thanked him, assured him that there was not an iota of truth in the story that Britain desired a war with France, then returned to his bed to make up some more of the sleep he had lost. When he awoke on the Friday morning he was feeling considerably less sore, mentally refreshed and in good heart to tackle the weighty matter upon which he had come to Paris; so he dug a sober suit out of the trunk he kept at La Belle Etoile, and as soon as he was dressed hired a hackney-coach to take him out to Passy.

Mr. Pitt's strictures upon the irreligious Bishop were one of the few matters upon which Roger still disagreed with his master. Monsieur de Talleyrand-Perigord was, he knew, an extremely slippery customer but, nevertheless, he believed him to be fundamentally honest and a real friend to Britain. In any case it was now of the utmost importance to Roger that he should get reliable information on how the leaders of the National Assembly viewed the prospect of war, so he had no hesitation in resuming relations with his secret ally.

When he arrived at the neat little house the Bishop was not yet up; but soon afterwards he came downstairs in a flowered silk dressing-gown and, limping into the sitting-room, made Roger welcome. A few minutes later the two of them were exchanging news over a breakfast of crisp new rolls and hot chocolate.

They had not been talking for long before Roger turned the con­versation to the Anglo-Spanish dispute. As he had been travelling for over a fortnight he had had no authentic news of the latest develop­ments, so he opened the matter by enquiring what his host thought of the general situation.

'I very much fear there will be war,' replied de Perigord gravely. ' 'Tis common knowledge that for six weeks past the most active preparations have been going forward in the dockyards of both Britain and Spain; and the attitude of both countries is highly belligerent. It seems that a belated Spanish reply to the first British note merely reiterated Spain's claim to sovereignty in the Pacific, and on its receipt early this month Mr. Pitt declared such pretensions totally inadmissible. My latest intelligence is that four days ago he asked Parliament to vote a million pounds for war supplies, and it was at once agreed. King Louis is using his best endeavours to mediate between the two disputants, but I doubt if that will have much effect when two such unbending peoples feel their honour touched upon.'