considerable sums from charitable institutions in England to distribute to the needy. Some of the royalists apparently had pressing personal problems that d'Auvergne was taking care of privately. Several came while Renzi was working with him. At their suspicious looks he would leave the room quietly; such behaviour from proud ex- noblemen was understandable.
Renzi finished what he was working on and handed it to d'Auvergne, who glanced through it and said, with a smile, 'I do fear, Mr Renzi, that we are not making full use of your talents.' He slapped down the papers with satisfaction. 'Tonight you shall come to dinner, be it only a family affair, and then I will learn more of your philosophies.'
Renzi was much impressed by the mansion just a mile out of St Helier, set in a vast ornamental garden with interiors of a splendid, if individual magnificence. D'Auvergne had humorously named the house 'Bagatelle' and proudly showed him the sights inside: scientific specimens, works of art of considerable value with 'relics of injured royalty,' which included
At length d'Auvergne made his apologies. 'I must leave you now for a space, Mr Renzi, to settle a business at my town office but I shall be back directly. Do avail yourself of my library—I take much pleasure from learned works in which the flower of man's intellect might so readily be imbibed.'
The library was monumental, with some sixty volumes on naval architecture and navigation alone, another hundred or two of
Renzi noted that nowhere was there any tome that could remotely be said to address religion, although there was Voltaire and commentaries on Robespierre and the Worship of Reason. And neither were there the usual weighty classics; Virgil, Caesar, Plato were conspicuous by their absence.
A gloomy inner library contained a mass of volumes and pamphlets on the history of France, obscure references to medieval campaigns and racks of genealogical studies. It was staggering. Renzi estimated that no less than four thousand books were before him in serried array. This was erudition indeed and he looked forward keenly to making their owner's better acquaintance.
D'Auvergne soon returned, and after passing pleasantries over sherry they moved into the dining room. 'My dear, this is Mr Nicholas Renzi, a philosophical gentleman who is doing us the honour of dining with us tonight. Renzi, this is Madame de la Tour, daughter of the Count of Vaudreuil, who will perform the honours of the house.' Two children stood meekly by her side and were also introduced.
A shy but warm acknowledgement was bestowed and they sat comfortably at the table
Renzi had caught on to the discreet coding: the lady was not his wife. Were the children hers? 'Dear Madame, this is naught but a comparative essay into the imperatives of human existence,' he began, 'as being differing responses to the same . . .'
Madame paid careful attention but remained silent. D'Auvergne asked intelligently about the same aspects of Rousseau's position on the noble savage that had so exercised Renzi in the great South Seas some years ago. Casting a shrewd glance at Renzi, he murmured, 'From your regard for the Encyclopaedists one might be tempted to conclude that your admiration extends to present philosophies.'
'If by that you are referring to the Revolution, then I can assure you that nothing is more abhorrent to me than the spectacle of the glory of French civilisation falling prey to those political animals now in control of the state.'
'Quite so, quite so. We are of a mind on the subject. Napoleon Bonaparte is now consul-for-life and is energetic and ruthless in his own interest—as witness his domination of the state apparatus, the secret police, even his economic machine, which I have certain knowledge has lately replaced the national currency with his own 'franc.'' He continued sombrely, 'He has now not a single country in arms against him save our own, and therefore has no distraction from his lust to conquer. I cannot recall that our realm has ever lain under a greater menace.'
Renzi shifted in his seat; this reminder of peril was only pointing up his own essential uselessness in the present dangers. To change the subject he asked politely, 'Do satisfy my curiosity on one point, if you will, sir. Just why is it that in these singular times their lordships at the Admiralty see fit to rusticate Sir James Saumarez to these remote islands—a proven fighter if ever one were needed— rather than require him to lead a fleet in the great battle that must surely come?'
'Why, sir, have you not surmised?' d'Auvergne said, with raised eyebrows. 'It is over. He has won his victory. His purpose is complete.'
'Granville?' said Renzi, puzzled.
'Not at all.' D'Auvergne chuckled. 'I talk of a species of silent victory, but for all that, one that will resound down all of time.'
'Sir?'
'Let me be more explicit. In 1794 the French plotted an invasion of the Norman Isles, specifically Jersey. Only the greatest exertions from us and the convulsions on the mainland at the time saved us. Although the Treaty of Amiens ended hostilities in 1802, it became clear quite early that we would be under assault once more, this time by the most formidable general of the age.
'What better move can you conceive of than to dispatch a feared and respected leader of the last war to take station here as commander-in-chief? By his very presence he has discouraged intemperate assault on the Channel Islands and with a simple flourish at Granville he has shown the impracticality of a local invasion. And he did succeed. My intelligence now is that all troop concentrations have dissipated. For the moment we are safe.' He put down his glass and went on: 'So on the strategical side this is what has been accomplished: from Calais far to the east, to the extremity of France in the west, they have no harbour of size in which to concentrate a battle fleet to seize the Channel—except Guernsey, which in course is now denied them by Sir James's silent victory.
'For the French this is galling in the extreme. You see, we in turn do use these islands to our own advantage, which is as a base to fall on their sea lanes with men-o'-war and privateers to paralyse their commerce and attempts to reinforce. And, most critically, to keep close in watch on Bonaparte's invasion preparations—which we are so well placed to do,' he added, with satisfaction.
The mood changed. He lifted his glass and exclaimed genially, 'But then we are neglecting the plaice with our talk. Pray, eat and enjoy—and I have a notion how we might deploy your talents to better effect, Mr Renzi,' he added mysteriously.
