LONDON
While the Court and the Army of the _émigrés_ were being organized at
Coblentz and Worms, under the direction of Monsieur, Comte de Provence,
of the Comte d’Artois, and of the Prince de Condé, and while rivalry
and jealousies and a thousand other causes of dissension were already
cropping up in that environment (so often and always so unfavourably
depicted), other troops of similar fugitives were leaving the eastern
coast and, embarking from the Channel port, or stopping first on the
islands of Jersey and Guernsey, were gradually arriving on English
soil, there to find an assured refuge. In the last months of 1791, and
in the beginning of 1792, they came thither in thousands. Bretons,
Normans, nobles, ecclesiastics, journalists, young officers, fleeing
persecution, pillage, arbitrary arrests, came hastening to enjoy the
hospitality of Great Britain.
London was soon full of refugees; but the majority of these unfortunate
folk, despite their illustrious names, were in a state almost of
destitution.
The more prosperous ones, those who had been able to rescue something
from the shipwreck, succeeded in finding homes in the suburbs--modest
boarding-houses, or little cottages--where they installed their
families. But these were the exceptions; and in every street French
gentlefolk were to be met with who had no property but what they
carried on their backs. Many of them knew no English; and still
overwhelmed by the dangers they had passed through, and thus suddenly
plunged into strange surroundings, without resources, without even a
handicraft, went wandering despairingly about the city, in search of
bread.
They were not allowed to starve. Most admirably did English charity
accept this influx of new inhabitants.
The last years of the reign of Louis XVI., together with the War of
Independence in the United States, had markedly chilled the relations
between France and her neighbours across the Channel. Revolutionary
ideas from the frontiers had at first met with some sympathy amongst
this favoured people, who had been in the enjoyment of true liberty
for a century. But when English folk came to know of the excess which
these ideas had resulted in, of the anarchy which had been let loose in
all directions, of the violence which was the order of the day--their
distrust, indignation, and horror effaced that earlier sympathy.
King George III., supported by his Minister, Pitt, felt from that time
an aversion which grew to implacable hatred for anything even remotely
connected with the French Revolution.[29]
On the other hand, he (and, indeed, almost the whole of the
aristocracy) welcomed the refugees, and encouraged their sojourn in the
kingdom--glad, no doubt, of the opportunity for displaying his opinion
of the new ideas, by helping on the exodus of a part of the inhabitants
of France, an exodus which would contribute to the weakening of that
country.
Whatever the reason may have been, there is abundant evidence of
the inexhaustible charity that the new-comers met with in English
society. Benevolent committees were formed, presided over by dukes and
duchesses, marquises and marchionesses.[30] When the first necessities
of the poor creatures had been provided for by the establishment of
cheap restaurants, hotels, and bazaars, their friends sought out
occupations for them, so that they might be in a position to earn
their own livelihood. The clergy were the first to profit by this
solicitude. The decree of August 26, 1792, ordaining the deportation
of non-juring priests, had driven them in a body from the continent.
It was well for those who were thus driven out, for of their comrades
who remained the most part were in the end persecuted and entrapped.
The greater number chose England for their place of refuge. They
came thither in crowds--so much so that, at the Terror, there were
as many as 8000.[31] Many were Bretons. One of them, Carron, came to
London preceded by a reputation for holiness. He had founded at Rennes
a cotton-cloth factory which gave employment to more than 2000 poor
people. The famous Decree of August 26 affected him, and thus forced
him to abandon his enterprise. He went to Jersey, and recommenced his
work there; but left the island at the end of some time, and came to
settle in England. There he set up an alms-house for his destitute
coreligionists, and acted the part of a sort of Providence to them. Nor
was he the only one they had.
Jean-François de la Marche, Bishop of Saint-Pol-de-Léon, had, ever
since the early months of 1791, incurred the wrath and fury of the
Attorney-General of the department of Finisterre. This prelate, who
was profoundly loved in his diocese, refused to give up his bishopric,
which had recently been suppressed by the National Assembly. He was
accused of fomenting agitation in the department, and of inciting
the curés to resistance. He was violently denounced at the National
Assembly, and treated as a disturber of the public peace. Summoned to
Paris to exculpate himself, together with his colleagues, the Bishops
of Tréguier and Morbihan, he took no notice of the order, and to
escape arrest, which threatened him, and for which he was being pursued
by the Cavalry Police, he had but one resource--to get right away from
Brittany. He came to London in the first batch of _émigrés_. From the
outset he had but one idea: to look after his companions in misfortune,
to help them in their need, to find employment for them. To this end he
served as intermediary between the Government and the priests, pleading
the cause of these latter, and keeping registers of the names and
qualifications of all with whom he became concerned.
In spite of so many reasons for melancholy, one thing that struck the
English people was the extraordinary gaiety of nature displayed by most
of the _émigrés_ so soon as they found themselves in security. These
good folk, many of whom landed half-starved, exhausted and ragged,
were somehow not entirely disheartened, and, indeed, on commencing
life afresh, displayed an extraordinary spirit and cheerfulness. Very
quickly, even in the alien country, they formed into circles of friends
who saw each other every day,[32] eager to exchange impressions,
reminiscences, and hopes, to get news from the Homeland and from those
members of their families who had not been able to leave it; they felt
keenly the need of a common existence, in which they could cheer and
encourage one another. And what a kindly grace they showed, what a
brave spirit, amid all the little disagreeables of a way of life so
different from that of the good old days! At the dinners which they
gave one another, each would bring his own dish. “’Twas made,” says the
Count d’Haussonville, “into a little attention to the visitors of the
house for a man to take a taper from his pocket, and put it, lighted,
on the chimney-piece!” In the daytime the men-folk gave lessons or
worked as secretaries (or bookbinders, like the Count de Caumont, for
instance). The women did needlework, which the English ladies, their
patronesses, busied themselves in selling at bazaars.[33]
But side by side with the gentlemen who took their exile so patiently
and philosophically, there was a whole group of _émigrés_ who longed
to play a less passive part. These were the men and women who had fled
from France and brought their illusions with them--those inconceivable
illusions which mistook so entirely the true character, importance,
and extent of the Revolution, and could still, therefore, cherish the
hope of some kind of revenge. Totally misunderstanding the feelings
of the English Government, unable to comprehend the line taken by
Pitt and his Cabinet, and blinded by their stubborn hatred, these men
and women actually imagined that, to their importunate appeals, Great
Britain could respond by furnishing them with arms, soldiers, and
money to equip a fleet, form an army, and go back to France as the
avengers of the “hideous Revolution.” They assailed the Minister with
offers, counsels, and schemes--for the most part quite impracticable;
were refused, but still cherished their delusion. Some of them were
honest, but many were of that class of adventurer with which the
Emigration was swarming, and which was the thorn in the side of all
the anti-revolutionary agencies. The well-warned Government could give
them but one reception. Pitt had not the least idea of listening to the
proposals of these gentry and personally intervening in favour of the
Royalists of France.[34]
England at that time was deeply concerned with Indian affairs; and, in
spite of the lively sympathy inspired by the grievous situation of the
Royal Family at the Tuileries, she could not dream of departing, at any
rate just then, from an attitude of benevolent neutrality.
In her manor-house of Ketteringham, where she spent the winter of
1791-92, Lady Atkyns was not forgetful of her French friends. The
_Gazette_ brought her week by week news of the events in Paris, of
the troubles in the provinces, of the deliberations of the National
Assembly. But what she looked for first of all was intelligence about
the inhabitants of the Tuileries, whose agitated and anguished lives
she anxiously followed. Separation redoubled her sympathetic adoration
of the lady whom she had seen and worshipped at Versailles. Thus we
can imagine what her grief must have been on hearing the details of
that 20th of June--the invaded palace, the interminable line of the
people defiling before the King, the attitude of Marie-Antoinette,
protecting her son against the ferocious curiosity of the petitioners,
and surrounded only by a few faithful allies who made a rampart for her
with their bodies. Lady Atkyns’ heart had failed her as she read of all
this. The day of the Tenth of August, the massacre of the Swiss Guards,
the flight of the King and Queen, their transfer to the Temple Prison,
and incarceration there--these things redoubled her anguish. She went
frequently to London for information, and returned, sad and anxious, to
her dear Norfolk home, made miserable by her impotence to do anything
that might save the Queen.
With her great love for the Royalist cause, she naturally associated
herself warmly with the benevolent efforts of English society to help
the _émigrés_. She knew many of the names, and when she heard talk
of D’Harcourts, Beauvaus, Veracs, Fitz-Jameses, Mortemarts, all the
life at Versailles must have come back to her--the Queen’s “set,” the
receptions, the festivities.
It was during one of her visits to London that she made the
acquaintance of a man whom she had long wished to know, and whose
articles she always eagerly read--I allude to Jean-Gabriel Peltier,
the editor of the _Acts of the Apostles_, that extravagantly Royalist
sheet which had such an immense vogue in a certain circle since the
days of ’89. Peltier was born near Angers;[35] his real name was
Dudoyer--of a business family. After an adventurous youth, and a
sojourn at Saint-Domingo (where, it seems, he did not lead a blameless
life), he came to Paris at the beginning of the Revolution. According
to a police report of doubtful authenticity, he flung himself heart
and soul into the revolutionary cause, speechifying side by side with
Camille Desmoulins at the Palais-Royal, flaunting one of the first
rebel flags, and marching to the Taking of the Bastille. Then, all of
a sudden, he turns his coat, becomes a blazing Royalist, and founds a
newspaper with the curious title of _The Acts of the Apostles_. For the
space of two years he then attacks violently, recklessly, everything
and everybody so mistaken as not to agree with his own ideas. The style
of the paper is sarcastic, and frequently licentious. The author has
been found fault with for his insults and his invectives; his sheet
has been styled “infamous;” but when we remember the prevailing tone
of the Press at that time, and the condition of the public mind, is
it not only fair to grant some indulgence to the quartette--Peltier,
Rivarol, Champcnetz, and Sulau--who took in hand so ardently and
enthusiastically the interests of the King?
On August 10, when he had dismissed the other editors of the _Acts of
the Apostles_, and stopped the publication of the paper, Peltier,
feeling no longer safe in Paris, took the step of emigrating. He came
to London with the idea of founding a new periodical, which was to be
called _The Political Correspondence of the True Friends of the King_.
[Illustration: PELTIER.
JEAN-GABRIEL PELTIER, 1765-1825.
(_After an engraving in the British Museum._)
[_To face page 44._]
Tall and thin, with powdered hair, and a lofty bald forehead, always
inveighing fervently against something or other (so Chateaubriand
depicts him), Peltier answered in some degree to the traditional type
of journalist in those days, when “journalist” meant at once gazetteer,
lampoonist, and pamphleteer. Judging by his writings alone, one can
understand the small confidence that his English acquaintances placed
in him; but under his somewhat eccentric mode of expression Peltier
concealed a very real and deep devotion to the King’s cause.
His acquaintance with Lady Atkyns dates from November, 1792. This
lady spent a great part of her long leisurely days in the country
in reading. She was told of the recent publications by Peltier; she
had known only of some of these, and instantly off she writes to the
journalist, asking him for the first numbers of the book which he is
bringing out. Needless to say, her desire is at once gratified.[36]
She devours the writings of the author of _The Acts of the Apostles_;
she joins in his anger, shares his admirations, and a regular
correspondence begins between these two persons, drawn together as
they were by a common sympathy for the Royal Family of France.
When they have exchanged reminiscences of past days, they come to
consider the present. Lady Atkyns has been fretting for weeks over her
inaction. A thousand thoughts disturb her, all converging towards the
same idea: can she do anything to save the King and the Queen? Does
she not possess a considerable fortune, and who is to prevent her from
arranging to devote a part of it to the realization of her dream? And
in truth this woman, who was a foreigner, who was bound by no real tie
of any kind to the inmates of the Tuileries, _was_ actually to attempt,
through the strength alone of her love and her heroic devotion, what
no one had yet succeeded in. A superhuman energy sustained her; one
thought only was henceforth to rule her life, and not once did she
falter, nor doubt, nor lose the ardour of her feeling.
To whom better could she address herself than to him who seemed to
understand her so well? Peltier was told of her intentions. Their
letters grew more frequent, their project begins to take shape.
“In truth, madame” (Peltier writes), “the more I read you, the more
your zeal astonishes and moves me. You are more intrepid and more
ardent than any Frenchman, even among those who are most attached to
their King. But have you reflected upon the dozen doors, the dozen
wickets and tickets that must be arranged for, before you can get into
Court? I know that to tell you of difficulties is but to inflame your
desire to overcome them; moreover, I do not doubt that your new scheme
has taken all these difficulties into account.”
When this plan had been modified and approved by Peltier, it stood
thus: First of all, to find two safe correspondents in Paris, to whom
letters and a statement of the scheme could be sent. And these two
men were there, ready to hand--both whole-heartedly Royalists, both
tried men. They were MM. Goguelat and Gougenot. The first, who was M.
de Bouillé’s aide-de-camp, had taken an active part in the Varennes
affair, but he had not shown the greatest discretion, for all he had
succeeded in doing was to get wounded. The second, who was the King’s
steward, had been in the secret of the flight. The plotters also meant
to get into relations with the two physicians of Louis XVI., MM.
Lemonnier and Vicq d’Azyr, who would give most valuable aid in the
passing of notes into the Temple Prison, for and to the prisoners. But
the great difficulty would be the King. How was _he_ to be brought to
their way of thinking? Would he consent to listen to the proposals they
were to transmit to him? “That” (declares Peltier) “is what no one can
be sure of, considering the state of prostration that he must be in
after such terrible and incessant misfortunes.”
Nor was this all. They had to find an intelligent and nimble agent,
who could cross from England to France once, twice, many times if
necessary; who could have interviews with the persons indicated, and,
above all, who could manage to procure detailed plans of the Temple
Prison. An ordinary courier would not do. Well, it just happened that
Peltier _had_ relations with a foreign nobleman, Hungarian by birth,
whom he had come to know by chance, and who even helped him with his
publications. He had, in fact, made this gentleman his collaborator.
His name was d’Auerweck, and as he happened to be in France at that
very moment, he could easily betake himself to Paris, and, in Peltier’s
opinion, would fill most admirably the delicate post with which he was
to be entrusted.
Finally, throughout the plot, they were to make use in correspondence
of a “sympathetic” ink, “which could only be read when held near the
fire.”
Here is the cost of the first preparations:--
£ _s._ _d._
Journey to Paris by diligence 5 5 0
Return 5 5 0
Travelling expenses, etc. (at least) 6 6 0
Expenses at Paris for, say fifteen days 3 3 0
Tips to servants 6 6 0
--------
26 5 0
That is a sum of about 650 francs. Needless to say, the journalist
_émigré_, like most of his compatriots, was entirely unable to give
the smallest contribution to the expenses of the enterprise; but Lady
Atkyns was there, ready for any sacrifice; they were to apply to her
for everything necessary.
In conclusion, Peltier pointed out again the difficulties of a general
escape.
“Above all, madame, do not forget that I foresee a great difficulty
in bringing out the three principal members of the family. They may
possibly think themselves safer in the Temple than on the high-road.
The personal risk which you are running makes me shudder. Your courage
is worthy of the admiration of all Europe, and if any harm comes to
you, as the result of so heroic an enterprise, I shall be among those
who will deplore it most.”
Three days later another letter came to Ketteringham, telling of the
good progress of the attempt. Peltier was going to despatch his servant
to Amiens, whither the Baron d’Auerweck had gone, and the latter would
in this way receive his instructions.
But there was no time to lose. The storm was muttering in Paris.
Pressed by the “Forward” groups, frightened by the redoubled
insurrections, the Convention had been compelled to proceed to the
trial of the King. “Circumstances are becoming so urgent,” wrote
Peltier, “that we have not a moment to lose; they talk of trying
the King so as to calm down the insurrections that are breaking out
everywhere.”
And, indeed, it was necessary to make haste. After the discovery of
the papers in the famous “Iron Press” in the Tuileries, the Convention
had agreed that the King should appear before them. On December 10
Robert Lindet made his report, and the next day Barbaroux presented
“the deed enunciating the crimes of Louis Capet.” On the same day the
King appeared before the bar of the Convention, there to answer the
thirty-one questions which were put to him.
Like lightning, this terrifying news crossed the Channel, and reached
London in a few hours. Peltier’s rooms filled with horrified people,
“who met there all day long to weep and despair.”
“I cannot conceal from you, madame,” wrote Peltier that evening to his
friend, “that the danger to the Royal Family is very great at this
moment. Truly I cannot hope that they will still be alive at the end
of the fortnight. It is heartrending. You will have seen the English
papers. You will have read Robespierre’s abominable speech, and how
it was applauded by the Tribunes; and, above all, you will have seen
about these new documents, which have been twisted into a crime of the
unhappy King’s because people _will not_ see that all the steps he
took to regain his authority were taken for the good of his people,
and that his sole object was to save them by force if necessary from
the evils which are destroying them, now that they no longer have a
King.”
But even yet all was not lost. If they arrived too late to save the
King, there was still the Dauphin, “to whom every one should look.” In
a few days the Baron d’Auerweck would be in Paris, and they would know
exactly how much they might still hope for.
“A Transylvanian nobleman,” was the description Peltier had given when
writing about this new collaborator.[37] The epithet, although most
attractive--suggestive as it was of that land of great forests all
wildness and mystery--was not perfectly exact. The family of Auerweck,
though perhaps of Hungarian origin, had established itself at Vienna,
where the father of our Baron died as a captain in the Austrian
service. His wife--whose maiden-name had been Scheltheim--had borne him
four children, two boys and two girls. The two latter were married and
settled in Austria. The elder son, who was born at Vienna about 1766,
was named Louis (Aloys) Gonzago; he added to his family name that of an
estate, Steilenfels, and the title of Baron--so that the whole thing,
when given out with the proper magniloquence, was quite effective.
“By the particular favour of Marie-Thérèse,” Louis d’Auerweck entered
very young the Military Academy of Neustadt, near Vienna. On leaving
it, he spent four years in a Hungarian regiment, the “Renfosary;” but
garrison-life bored him, and, independent and ambitious, he longed to
shake off the yoke of militarism which hampered him in his schemes.
Unfortunately, we have only his own record of his younger days,[38] and
it is matter for regret that no more trustworthy information is to be
had. For very curious and interesting is the life of this adventurer,
who was undeniably intelligent and clever, but who was also an
intriguer and a braggart; who knew French well, and therefore posed as
a finished diplomatist, with pretentions to philosophy and literature;
who, in a word, was filled with a sense of his own importance, and
fatally addicted to “playing to the gallery.” Some quotations from his
writings will give a better idea of him than any description.
Hardly has he left Austria--his reason for doing so we shall learn from
himself--than he sets off on a sort of educational tour, beginning at
Constantinople and going on to the Mediterranean. He visits, one after
the other, Greece, Malta, Sicily, Spain, the South of France; he even
goes so far as Chambéry and Lyons. An opportunity turns up, and off he
sets for Paris.
“The innovations made by Joseph II., such as the introduction of the
Register and military conscription, caused him to be employed as an
engineer, and as a member of the administrative body formed to carry
out these different schemes. His independent character instantly
displayed itself in a sphere where it was no longer repressed by
that duty of blind obedience which is the very being of the Army.
He could now venture to have an opinion and to express it, he could
criticise the root-idea on the form of an enterprise by displaying
its difficulties or foretelling its non-success (forecasts, moreover,
which time has proved to be sound); he could speak of the violation of
national justice, of a legitimate resistance to arbitrary power. His
experiences under fire, his activity, and his oratorical talent gave
him a position among the malcontents which he had not sought in any
way. In consequence, he ventured on something more than mere speaking
and writing. His travels, his qualities, his independent and decided
character have won for him friendships and acquaintanceships which
have given him the advantage of never finding himself out of place in
any important centre of affairs. To this he owes that knowledge of
the hereditary prejudices and the sudden caprices of Cabinets, which
when joined to an equal knowledge of the character of their chiefs,
ministers, constitutes _diplomacy_. To assiduous study he attributes
that understanding of the true interests of Governments, and of their
respective powers, which constitutes _international politics_.”
Such was the personage to whom Lady Atkyns and Peltier entrusted their
enterprise. If they looked after him carefully, granted him only a
limited discretion, and took the fullest advantage of his intelligence
and his talents, they would probably make something of the Hungarian
nobleman. This was not the Baron’s first visit to Paris; he knew the
capital well. He had come there at the beginning of the Revolution, in
1789, and, if we are to believe his own account, “he saw the results
of all these horrors, but was merely laughed at. If all mankind could
have been armed against the Revolution, he would have armed them!”
Moreover, he had kept up many connections in Paris. By his own account,
the Austrian Minister, Thugut, whom he had formerly met at Naples, had
taken him into his confidence. In short, his friends in London could
not have made a better choice, as he wrote from Amiens to Peltier on
the receipt of his proposal.
“I start for Paris at full speed at five o’clock to-morrow morning.
I need not tell you that from this moment I shall devote myself to
the business of which you have spoken to me, nor need I add that
this devotion is entirely disinterested. If I had not already proved
those two things to you, I should not be the man you require. But,
just because I feel that I _have_ the head and the heart necessary
for your enterprise, I tell you frankly that it can only be carried
out at great expense. The business of getting information--which is
only a preparatory measure--is made difficult, if not impossible,
unless a considerable sum of money can be spent.... I believe
myself authorized to speak to you in this way, because I have the
advantage--rare enough amongst men--of being above suspicion with
regard to my own interests.”[39]
On Wednesday, December 19, d’Auerweck entered Paris, and put up at
a hotel in the Rue Coq-Héron, where he gave his name as Scheltheim.
He instantly set to work to get the letters he had brought with him
delivered at their addresses, and to make certain of the co-operation
which was essential to him. But there was a disappointment in store;
Goguelat, upon whom so much depended, was away from Paris, and, as it
happened, in London. It was necessary to act without him, and this was
no easy matter. The excitement caused by the trial of the King enforced
upon the plotters a redoubled caution. D’Auerweck got uneasy when he
found no letters coming from Peltier in answer to his own. He went more
frequently to Versailles, and to Saint-Germain, and kept on begging for
funds. On December 25, the day before M. de Sèze was to present the
King’s defence to the Convention, d’Auerweck wrote to Peltier--
“The persons (you know whom I mean) do not care to arrive here before
Thursday, which is very natural, for there is all sorts of talk as to
what may happen to-morrow.... You promised me to write by each post;
but there can be no doubt that you forgot me on Tuesday, the 18th,
for otherwise I must have had your letters by this time. One thing I
cannot tell you too often: it is that I consider it essential to take
to you in person any documents that I may be able to procure.”[40]
The documents in question were those which Peltier had alluded to, some
days before, in a letter to Lady Atkyns: “I heard to-day that there was
some one in Paris who had all the plans that you want in the greatest
detail;”[41] and at the end of the month he returned to the subject--
“I am expecting, too, a most exact plan of the Temple Prison, taken
in November; and not only of the Temple, but also of the caves that
lie under the tower--caves that are not generally known of, and which
were used from time immemorial for the burial of the ancient Templars.
I know a place where the wall is only eighteen inches thick, and
debouches on the next street.”
It becomes evident that Peltier and Lady Atkyns, almost abandoning
any hope of saving the King, whose situation appeared to them to
be desperate, now brought all their efforts to bear upon the other
prisoners of the Temple.
“If His Majesty persists in his reluctance to be rescued from prison,
at least we may still save his poor son from the assassins’ knives.
A well-informed man told me, the day before yesterday, when we were
talking of this deplorable business, that people were to be found in
Paris ready, for a little money, to carry off the Dauphin. They would
bring him out of the Temple in a basket, or else disguised in some
way.... I believe that to save the son is to save the father also.
For, after all, this poor child cannot be made the pretext for any
sort of trial, and as the Crown belongs to him by law on his father’s
death, I believe that they would keep the latter alive, if it were
only to checkmate those who would rally round the Dauphin. But, in the
interval, things may have time to alter, and circumstances may at last
bring about a happy change in this disastrous state of things.”
The month of December went by in this painful state of suspense. What
anxiety must have fretted the heart of the poor lady, as she daily
followed in the _Gazette_ the course of the Royal Trial! On New Year’s
Day she had some further words of encouragement from her friend in
London. All was not lost; Louis XVI. could still reckon, even in the
heart of Paris, upon many brave fellows who would not desert him; and
besides, what about the fatal consequences that would follow on the
crime of regicide? The Members of Convention would never dare--never....
Fifteen days later comes another missive; and this time but little hope
is left. The “Little Baron”--this was what they called d’Auerweck--was
not being idle. Peltier had made an opportunity for him of seeing De
Sèze, the King’s counsel.
“This latter ought to know for certain whether the King does or does
not intend to await his sentence or to expose himself to the hazards
of another flight; but there seems to be very little chance of his
consenting to it. Whatever happens” (added Peltier), “your desires
and your efforts, madam, will not be wasted, either for yourself or
for history. I possess, in your correspondence, a monument of courage
and devotion which will endure longer than London Bridge.... A trusty
messenger who starts to-morrow for Paris affords me a means of opening
my mind to De Sèze for the third time.”
But it was too late. On January 15 the nominal appeal upon the
thirty-three questions presented to the Members of Convention had been
commenced; two days later the capital sentence was voted by a majority
of fifty-three.
On January 21, at the hour when the guillotine had just done its work,
the following laconic note reached Ketteringham to say that all was
over:--
“My honoured friend, all we can do now is to weep. The crime is
consummated. Judgment of death was pronounced on Thursday evening.
D’Orleans voted for it, and he is to be made Protector. We have
nothing now to look forward to but revenge; and our revenge shall be
terrible.”
Think of the look that must have fallen upon that date, “January
21!” The postmark of the letter still shows it quite clearly, on the
yellowed sheet.
Could they possibly have succeeded if the King _had_ listened
favourably to their proposal? It is difficult to say. But it is
certainly a fact, that during the last six months of 1792 there had
been on the water, near Dieppe, a cruising vessel which kept up a
constant communication with the English coast. The truth was that,
finding the Rouen route too frequented, Peltier had judged the Dieppe
one to be infinitely preferable. It was that way that the fish
merchants came to Paris. If they had succeeded in getting the King
outside the Temple gates it is probable that his escape would have been
consummated. But the prison was heavily guarded at that time, and
during the trial these precautions were redoubled.
At any rate, there is no doubt that Louis knew of the attempts to
save him from death. Some time after the event of January 21, Clery,
speaking of the King to the Municipal, Goret, remarked--
“Alas! my dear good master could have been saved if he had chosen.
The windows in that place are only fifteen or sixteen feet above the
ground. Everything had been arranged for a rescue, while he was still
there, but he refused, because they could not save his family with
him.”
There can be no doubt that these words refer to the attempt of Lady
Atkyns and Peltier.[42] The assent of the King had alone been wanting
to its execution.
It is well known what a terrible and overwhelming effect was produced
in the European Courts by the news of the King’s execution. In London
it was received with consternation. Not merely the _émigrés_ (who had
added to their numbers there since the beginning of the Revolution)
were thunderstruck by the blow, but the Court of King George was
stupefied at the audacity of the National Assembly. The Court went
instantly into mourning, and the King ordered the French Ambassador,
Chauvelin, to leave London on the spot. Some days later war was
officially declared against France.[43]
The King’s death caused the beginning of that struggle which was to
last so many years and be so implacably, ferociously waged on both
sides.
* * * * *
Any one but Lady Atkyns would have lost heart, but that heroic woman
did not allow herself to be cast down for an instant. Amid the general
mourning, she still cherished her hopes; moreover, those who had been
helping her had not abandoned her. The “Little Baron” was still in
Paris, awaiting orders, but the gravity of the situation had obliged
him to leave the Hotel Coq-Héron, where his life was no longer in
safety. Well, they had failed with the King; now they must tempt
fortune, and save the Queen and her children. The lady at Ketteringham
was quite sure of that.
“Nothing is yet decided about the Queen’s fate” (Peltier had written
to her at the end of January), “but it has been proposed at the
Commune of Paris to transfer her either to the prison of La Force or
of La Conciergerie.”
Then Lady Atkyns had an idea. Why should she not go in person to
Paris and try her chance? Probably the surveillance which had been so
rigorously kept over the King would be far less severe for the Queen.
And one might profit by the relative tranquillity, and manage to get
into the Temple, and then--who could tell what one might not devise in
the way of carrying the Queen off, or of substituting some one else
for her? She never thought of all the dangers around her, and of the
enormously increased difficulties in the path for a foreign lady who
knew only a little French. Peltier, to whom she confided her plan,
tried to dissuade her.
“You will hardly have arrived before innumerable embarrassments will
crop up; if you leave your hotel three times in the day, or if you see
the same person thrice, you will become a suspect.”
But his friend’s persistence ended by half convincing him, and he
admitted that the moment was relatively favourable, and that it was
well to take advantage of it, if she wished to attempt anything.
Unluckily, things were moving terribly fast in Paris. There came the
days of May 31 and June 2, the efforts of the sections against the
Commune, civil war let loose. In the midst of this storm, Lady Atkyns
feared that the whole affair might come to nought; her arrangements,
moreover, were not completed. Money, which can do so much, decide so
much, and which had already proved so powerful--money, perhaps, was not
sufficiently forthcoming. Suddenly there is a rumour that a conspiracy
to favour the Queen’s escape has been discovered. Two members of the
Commune, Lepitre and Toulan, who had been won over to the cause by a
Royalist, the Chevalier de Jarjays, had almost succeeded in carrying
out their scheme, when the irresolution of one of them had ruined
everything; nevertheless, they were denounced.[44] Public attention,
which had been averted for a moment, now was fixed again upon the
Temple Prison.
And the days go by, and Lady Atkyns sees no chance of starting on her
enterprise.
We come here to an episode in her life which seems to be enveloped
in mystery. One fact is proved, namely, that Lady Atkyns succeeded
in reaching Marie Antoinette, disguised, and at the price of a large
sum of money. But when did this take place? Was the Queen still at
the Temple, or was it after she had been taken to the Conciergerie?
The most reliable witnesses we have--and they are two of Lady Atkyns’
confidants--seem to contradict one another.[45] A careful weighing
of testimony and an attentive study of the letters which Lady Atkyns
received at this time lead us to conclude, with much probability, that
the attempt was made _after_ the Queen had been transferred to the
Conciergerie; that is to say, after August 2, 1793.[46]
Some days before this Peltier had again brought her to give up her
resolve, assuring her that she was vainly exposing herself to risk--
“If you wish to be useful to that family, you can only be so by
directing operations from here (instead of going there to get
guillotined), and by making those sacrifices which you have already
resolved to make.”
It was of no use. The brave lady listened only to her heart’s
promptings, and set out for Paris. If we are to believe her friend, the
Countess MacNamara[47]--and her testimony is valuable--she succeeded
in winning over a municipal official, who consented to open the doors
of the Conciergerie for her, on the condition that no word should be
exchanged between her and the Royal prisoner. Moreover, the foreign
lady must wear the uniform of a National Guard. It was Drury Lane
over again! She promised everything, and was to content herself with
offering a bouquet to the Queen; but under the stress of the intense
emotion she experienced on meeting once more the eyes of the lady whom
she had not seen since the days at Versailles, she let fall a note
which she held, and which was to have been put into the Queen’s hand
with the bouquet. The Municipal officer was about to take possession
of it, but, more prompt than he, Lady Atkyns rushed forward, picked
it up, and swallowed it. She was turned out brutally. Such was the
result of the interview. But the English lady did not stop there. By
more and more promises and proceedings, by literally strewing her path
with gold, she bought over fresh allies, and this time she obtained the
privilege of spending an hour alone with the Queen--at what a price
may be imagined! It is said that she had to pay a thousand louis for
that single hour. Her plan was this: to change clothes with the Queen,
who would then leave the Conciergerie instead of her. But she met with
an obstinate refusal. Marie-Antoinette would not, under any pretext,
sacrifice the life of another, and to abandon her imprisoned children
was equally impossible to her. But what emotion she must have felt at
the sight of such a love, so simple, so whole-hearted, and so pure!
She could but thank her friend with tearful eyes and commend her son,
the Dauphin, to that friends tender solicitude. She also gave her some
letters for her friends in England.[48]
On leaving the Conciergerie, one thought filled the mind of Lady
Atkyns: she would do for the son what she had not been able to do for
the mother--she would drag the little Dauphin out of the Temple Prison.
* * * * *
Did she return to England immediately afterwards? Probably. For one
thing, she had not lost all hope, and, like the rest of her friends,
she did not as yet fear instant danger for the Queen’s life. This is
proved by a note from Peltier, written in the course of the month of
September, which reveals the existence of a fresh plan.
“They must set out on Thursday morning at latest; if they delayed any
longer, the approach of the Austrian troops, and the movements which
have taken place at Paris, might, we fear, determine the members of
the Convention to fly and take with them the two hostages whom we want
to save. One day’s, two days’ delay may make all the difference. If
they are to start on Thursday morning, and go to Brighton and charter
a neutral vessel, they have only Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to
spend, day and night, in getting everything ready. First of all, we
must get some louis d’or, and sew them in their belts. Then we must
get some paper-money, if it’s only for the journey along the coast
to Paris, so that they may not be suspected.... We must have time to
prepare passports that will do for the three persons who are to go.
These passports must be made to look like the letters that Mr. Dundas
is sending for the Jacobins who are being deported from France. They
are thus less likely to be suspected.... The Temple affair is all
arranged; but, as to the Conciergerie one, nothing is known as yet;
the last letters from the Paris agents are dated July 26th. We are
sure that the persons interested have taken measures, but we do not
know what they are. It would not be a bad plan to have some money in
reserve for this purpose. It would be dreadful to think we had missed
our chance for the sake of two or three hundred louis, which would
make 1500 guineas. Therefore each man ought to carry on his person
about 450 louis, or 200 double-louis, because about 50 louis would be
spent in paper-money.
“There will also be a line of communication between France and
England, by means of M----, who resides near Dieppe, on the coast,
and who up to now has received and passed on constant communications.
We shall have to know of all the movements either of the armies,
or of the fleets, so as to direct our operations accordingly....
Circumstances have made it very dangerous to employ foreigners,
since the Decree of August 5 has banished them from France. But what
difference is there between doing a thing one’s self and causing it
to be done? The glory which one shares with others is glory none the
less so long as the great purpose is attained.... How can I be sure
if this plan does succeed, it will not be displeasing to the lady who
would have liked to carry off her friends with her own hands, and then
to lead them in triumph, etc., etc.?... But as we are concerned, not
with an opera, but an operation, the best proof of affection will be
to sacrifice that glory and that joy. And, besides, that lady will
not then be running the risks which formerly made existence hateful
to me. If my friends perish in this affair, I shall at least not have
to listen to a son’s and a mother’s reproaches for the loss of their
Charlotte....”[49]
It is clear from these lines that the communications established with
the Temple and outside it were still kept in working order against a
favourable opportunity. The agents in question were probably those
who have been already mentioned, two of whom were the bodyguards of
the Queen. But Lady Atkyns’ money had also had its effect, even among
those “Incorruptibles” which the Revolution created in such numbers;
and the events which we shall now read of can only be explained by
the co-operation, not only of one or two isolated persons, but of a
quantity of willing helpers, cleverly won over, and belonging to a
circle in which it could scarcely have been hoped that they were to be
found.
In the midst of all this, the Baron d’Auerweck (whom we last saw in
Paris), judging, doubtless, that his presence there was unavailing,
went back to London. The situation in France was more than critical.
The formation of a fresh Committee of Public Safety, the activity of
the Revolutionary Tribunals, in a word, the Terror in full blast,
rendered any stay in Paris impossible for already suspected foreigners,
and our Baron made haste to bring to his friends all the latest
information.
Peltier, who was impatiently awaiting him, on communicating his arrival
to Lady Atkyns, wrote thus:--
“My heart is too full of it for me to speak to you of anything but
the arrival of my friend, the Baron d’Auerweck. He left France two
days ago, and is now here, after having run every imaginable risk, and
lost everything that could be lost.... We have the Paris news from
him up to the 23rd; the Queen was still safe then. The Baron does not
think she will be sacrificed. Danton and the Cordeliers are for her,
Robespierre and the Jacobins against. Her fate will depend upon which
of the two parties triumphs. The Queen is being closely guarded--the
King, hardly at all. The Queen maintains a supernatural strength and
dignity.”[50]
It was in London itself, at the Royal Hotel, that Lady Atkyns received
these lines. She had hastened there so as to be better able to make
inquiries.
But the Decree issued by the Convention, on October 3, ordering the
indictment of the “Widow Capet,” give a curious contradiction to the
assurances given by d’Auerweck. After all, though, who could dare to
forecast the future, and the intentions of those who were now in power?
The ultra-jacobin politicians knew less than any one else whither
Destiny was to lead them. Had there not been some talk, a few weeks
earlier, of getting the Queen to enter into the plan of a negotiation
with Austria? So it was not surprising that illusions with regard to
her reigned in Paris as well as among the _émigrés_ in London.
Eleven days later Marie-Antoinette underwent a preliminary examination
at the bar of the Revolutionary Tribunal. The suit was heard quickly,
and there were no delays. Of the seven witnesses called, the last,
Hébert, dared to bring the most infamous accusations against her, to
which the accused replied only by a disdainful silence. Then came the
official speeches of Chaveau-Lagarde and of Tronson-Ducoudray--a mere
matter of form, for the “Austrian woman” was irrevocably doomed.
On the third day, October 16, at 4.30 a.m., in the smoky hall of the
Tribunal, by the vague light of dawn, the jury gave their verdict,
“Guilty”; and sentence of death was immediately pronounced. Just on
eleven o’clock the cart entered the courtyard of the Conciergerie
Prison, the Queen ascended, and, after the oft-described journey,
reached the Place de la Revolution. At a quarter past twelve the knife
fell upon her neck.
All was over this time--all the wondrous hopes, the last,
long-cherished illusions of Lady Atkyns. The poor lady heard of the
terrible ending from Peltier. Her friend’s letter was one cry of rage
and despair, more piercing even than that of January 21.
“It has killed me. I can see your anguish from here, and it doubles
my own. My anger consumes me. I have not even the relief of tears; I
cannot shed one. I abjure for ever the name of Frenchman. I wish I
could forget their language. I am in despair; I know not what I do, or
say, or write. O God! What barbarity, what horror, what evils are with
us, and what miseries are still to come! I dare not go to you. Adieu,
brave, unhappy lady!”[51]
Many tears must have fallen on that treasured sheet. And still, to
this day, traced by Lady Atkyns’ hand, one can read on it these words:
“_Written after the murder of the Queen of France._”
Were all her efforts, then, irremediably wasted? She refused to believe
it. And at that moment two fresh actors appeared on the scene, whose
help she could utilize. From the friendship of one, the Chevalier de
Frotté (who came to London just then), she could confidently hope for
devoted aid. The other, a stranger to her until then, and only recently
landed from the Continent, was destined to become one of the principal
actors in the game that was now to be played.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] Albert Sorel, _L’Europe et la Revolution Française_, vol. ii. p.
382.
[30] Forneron, _Histoire Générale des Émigrés_, Paris, 1884, vol. ii.
p. 50.
[31] Abbé de Lubersac, _Journal historique et réligieux, de
l’émigration et déportation du clergé de France en Angleterre_,
dedicated to His Majesty the King of England, London, 1802, 8vo, p. 12.
(The author styles himself: Vicar-General of Narbonne, Abbé of Noirlac
and Royal Prior of St.-Martin de Brivé, French _émigré_.)
[32] Count d’Haussonville, _Souvenirs et Mélanges_, Paris, 1878, 8vo.
[33] Gauthier de Brecy, _Mémoires véridiques et ingenus de la vie
privée, morale et politique d’un homme de bien_, written by himself in
the eighty-first year of his age, Paris, 1834, 8vo, p. 286.
[34] Sorel, _L’Europe et la Révolution Française_, vol. iii. pp. 288,
289.
[35] On October 21, 1765, at Gonnord, Maine-et-Loire, _Canton_ of
Touarcé, _arrondissement_ of Angers.
[36] Letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns, dated from London, November
15, 1792.--_Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns._
[37] “In case of our not being able to find M. Goguelat, I have my eye
upon a very useful man whom I have known for many years, and who was,
indeed, a collaborator in some of my political works--he is the Baron
d’Auerweck, a Transylvanian nobleman, a Royalist like ourselves, of
firm character, and very clever.”--Letter from Peltier, Dec. 3, 1792.
[38] In two autobiographical memoirs, one written at Hamburg, June,
1796, and annexed to a despatch from the French Minister there,
Reinhard (_Archives of the Foreign Office_, Hamburg, v. 109, folio
367). The other was written at Paris, July 25, 1807 (_National
Archives_, F. 6445). Both naturally aim at presenting the author in the
most favourable light.
[39] Letter from Baron d’Auerweck, December 17, 1792. It is addressed
to Peltier under the name of Jonathan Williams.--_Unpublished Papers of
Lady Atkyns._
[40] Letter from d’Auerweck to Peltier, Paris, Hotel Coq-Héron, No. 16
December 25, 1792.--_Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns._
[41] Letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns, London, December 7,
1792.--_Ibid._
[42] Narrative of the Municipal, Charles Goret, in G. Lenôtre’s book,
_La Captivité et la Mort de Marie-Antoinette_, Paris, 1902, 8vo, p. 147.
[43] February 1, 1793.
[44] On this plot, see Paul Gaulot, _Un Complot sous la Terreur_,
Paris, 1902, duodecimo.
[45] These are the Chevalier de Frotté and the Countess MacNamara.
[46] In the narrative of the Chevalier de Frotté, who mentions the
Temple Prison (published by L. de la Sicotière, _Louis de Frotté et
les Insurrections Normandes_, vol. i. p. 429), we consider that a
somewhat natural confusion has arisen. It is, in fact, very difficult
to assign any date earlier than August 6 for an attempt at the Temple;
for on that date there is a letter from Peltier addressed to Lady
Atkyns at Ketteringham, and there can be no doubt that if the lady
had already left England, Peltier would have been aware of it. On the
other hand, the letter published by V. Delaporte (p. 256), and given
as written at the end of July, 1793, _must be subsequent to August 2_.
These phrases: “They will not promise for more than the King and the
two female prisoners of the Temple; they will do what is possible for
the Queen; _but everything is changed_, and they cannot answer for
anything, and, as to the Queen, they can say nothing as yet, for they
have tried the Temple Prison only”--these phrases plainly show that the
Queen was no longer at the Temple then. Finally, since in his letter at
the beginning of August Peltier once more tried to dissuade Lady Atkyns
from coming to Paris, it seems rational to conclude that the lady had
not yet carried out her plan.
[47] The testimony of the Countess MacNamara was obtained by Le
Normant des Varannes, _Histoire de Louis XVII._, Orleans, 1890, 8vo,
pp. 10-14, and he had it from the Viscount d’Orcet, who had known the
Countess. Although we cannot associate ourselves with the writer’s
conclusions, we must acknowledge that whenever we have been able to
examine comparatively the statements of Viscount d’Orcet relating to
Lady Atkyns we have always found them verified by our documents.
[48] It has been sought to establish a connection between this story
and the conspiracy of the Municipal, Michouis (the “Affair of the
Carnation”), aided by the Chevalier de Pougevide, which failed by the
fault of one of the two gendarmes who guarded the Queen. There may be
some connection between the principal actors in these simultaneous
attempts, but we admit that we have been unable to get any proof of
it. It was necessary to take so many precautions, to avoid as far
as possible any written allusions, and to veil so impenetrably the
machinery of the plots, that it is not surprising that the documents,
curt and dry as they are, reveal to us so few details.
[49] Note in Peltier’s handwriting.--_Unpublished Papers of Lady
Atkyns._
[50] Undated letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns.--_Unpublished Papers
of Lady Atkyns._
[51] _Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns._