THE EVE OF THE BATTLE
Robespierre could breathe again. He was once more in the open, the
silent stars above him, the Seine flecked with white bars of
reflected moonlight, flowing at his feet. But he dared not linger
there. He turned quickly, and darted along close to the walls,
fearing that for him, as once for Fouquier-Tinville, the water would
take the crimson hue of blood. By slow degrees he became calmer.
Refreshing gusts of cool night air fanned his fevered brow, and
restored him to reality. He thought of Olivier again. If he were
not in the Conciergerie, where could he be?
Entering the inner court of the Tuileries, at first he seemed
undecided, and then, as if under a sudden impulse, went straight
towards the Pavilion of Liberty. The Committee of Public Safety held
its meetings there, in the very apartment once occupied by Louis XVI.
This committee usually worked far into the night, and Robespierre was
sure of finding some one. As he expected, he met Billaud-Varennes
and Collot d'Herbois, who were crossing the vestibule of the ground
floor at that moment. He accosted them angrily, for the two men, who
had been hissed and hooted at the Jacobin Club, now seemed to exult,
as though they held some secret threat over his head. The ironical
smiles he fancied he saw playing round their lips aggravated his fury.
"So you have released the prisoner I sent to La Force?" he cried.
"Quite true!" replied Billaud-Varennes, relishing Robespierre's
discomfiture as a set-off against the Jacobins' hooting.
"For what reason?"
"To cross-examine him."
"Where is he?"
"That is for you to find out."
"I command you to send him back immediately to La Force!"
"We receive no orders from you!"
"Then it is to be war between us? You shall have it, scoundrels! war
to the knife! And to-morrow too!" and turning away abruptly, he went
towards the steps, and pushed the door open in a violent rage.
Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois retraced their steps to apprise
their colleagues at the Convention of their stormy interview with
Robespierre. But on the threshold of the Assembly-room Billaud
stopped his companion.
"Wait a moment," he said, "let me cross-examine the young man first."
So saying, he went upstairs to the attics, where Olivier had been
locked up ever since five o'clock under the charge of a gendarme, to
whom Coulongeon, the Committee's agent, had confided him, with strict
orders that the prisoner was to be kept entirely out of sight until
the Committee had decided on his fate.
Coulongeon was one of the sharpest detectives of the Committee. It
was he who, disguised as a beggar, had been the object of Blount's
sudden barks in the forest of Montmorency, where he had witnessed the
interview between Robespierre and Vaughan. Driven away by
Robespierre's agents, he had gone immediately to the entrance of the
forest, expecting vainly the Englishman's reappearance.
On his return to Paris the same evening he had reported his discovery
at once to the Committee of Public Safety. Billaud-Varennes rubbed
his hands gleefully. He was on the scent of a plot. An Englishman?
That could be no other than Vaughan, Fox's agent, who was known to
have been already two days in Paris. Ah! Robespierre had secret
interviews with him, had he? A plot, of course! It was splendid!
Nothing could be more opportune!
"Run quickly, and ascertain if the Englishman is still at the
American Consulate, while we draw up the warrant of arrest!" was his
immediate order.
But at the Consulate the detective was told that Vaughan had just
left Paris. Suspecting a trick, he took other means to continue his
inquiries, only to find after all that the Englishman had started for
Geneva directly after leaving Montmorency.
The members of the Committee were greatly disappointed on learning
that the plot must remain unravelled, for how could they prove the
interview without witnesses? Coulongeon was the only one who had
seen Robespierre speaking with Vaughan, but he was in the pay of the
Committee, and no one would believe him. They rested their hopes on
the probable return of the Englishman, but they waited to no purpose,
and were finally obliged to abandon the attempt.
One evening, however, Coulongeon had brought the Committee an
unlooked-for piece of news. Having had a message to take to the
prison of La Bourbe, he had found himself in the Acacia courtyard
among the prisoners just at their supper-hour. Two female prisoners
had attracted his attention. It seemed to him as if it was not the
first time he had seen them, and after searching his memory for a
moment, he recognised them as the two women who were with Vaughan in
the forest of Montmorency before Robespierre arrived on the scene.
Yes, he remembered it all now! It was so! There was not the
slightest doubt! The gaoler, when questioned, completely confirmed
his suspicions. The women did come from Montmorency, where they had
been arrested by Robespierre's orders. "Now we have two witnesses!"
Billaud-Varennes cried in delight.
"Three!" the agent interjected. "For, now I come to think of it,
there was a young man with them."
"He must be found also! Quick to Montmorency, and bring him back
with you!"
At Montmorency, after two days of fruitless search, the detective
discovered Clarisse's house in the forest. The gardener on being
interrogated replied that he was completely ignorant of the
whereabouts of Olivier, who had disappeared the very day his mother
and his _fiancée_ were arrested.... Perhaps Leonard the locksmith
could tell him. Questioned in his turn, Leonard replied evasively.
Coulongeon then informed him who he was, and threatened him with the
law, so that Leonard ended by owning that the young man had started
the same night for Paris. He swore that was all he knew.
Coulongeon, pretending to be quite satisfied, thanked him and went
away. But returning soon after he adroitly questioned the neighbours
on Leonard's connections and acquaintances. The agent learnt that
when the locksmith went to Paris he took up his abode in furnished
apartments in the Rue de Rocher, kept by a certain widow Beaugrand.
"Now I am on the right track," thought Coulongeon.
Once back in Paris the agent had little difficulty in making the good
woman speak. Did the widow Beaugrand know the young man? Pardieu!
She knew him too well! He was the daring insulter of Robespierre,
the young madman arrested on the Fête of the Supreme Being who was
now imprisoned at La Force.
The joy of the Committee knew no bounds, when they learnt the news on
leaving the hall of the Convention on the 8th Thermidor.
Billaud-Varennes, as can be imagined, was also overjoyed.
"We will have the three prisoners out of gaol, at once, and keep them
here at hand."
Two orders of release had been immediately drafted, one for the
prison of La Bourbe, the other for La Force.
Coulongeon had gone first of all to La Force to fetch Olivier, whom
he conducted straight to the Tuileries and locked in a little chamber
above the Committee-room under charge of a gendarme. But at the
prison of La Bourbe he was too late; the two women had been taken
away by Lebas, under an order of release from Robespierre.
On his return the police-agent had sought Billaud-Varennes to apprise
him of the result of his errand, but finding that he was away until
after the meeting of the Jacobins, he left a sealed note for him with
full particulars.
Billaud received this on his return from the Jacobins accompanied by
Collot d'Herbois.
"Out of three witnesses, only one is left to us!" he exclaimed on
reading it. "The most important one, however! We have the man
himself who insulted the traitor! We must cross-examine him
directly. It will be amusing."
Robespierre just then appeared on the scene and hastened the
examination by his violent outburst.
Billaud-Varennes began to cross-examine Olivier in the little chamber
above the Committee-room. The young man knew nothing of the plot.
Robespierre might have had an interview with Vaughan in the forest,
this was very possible, but he, Olivier, had left just after the
Englishman's arrival.
"You spoke to him, I suppose?"
"To whom?"
"To Vaughan."
"Why, yes! I exchanged a few words with him."
"You knew him, then?"
"My mother knew him. He was an old friend of hers."
"She knew then what he came to Montmorency for?"
"Not in the least. It was quite a chance-meeting. He had lost his
way, when they..."
"And you know absolutely nothing of what passed after your departure?"
"Nothing, except that my mother and my _fiancée_ were arrested by
Robespierre's infamous orders."
Billaud-Varennes left the room greatly disappointed. He wondered if,
after all, Olivier was telling the truth.
"However, the young man has the night to reflect over it," he said to
himself, as he descended the stair. "I will question him again
to-morrow after having conferred with the Committee, perhaps by that
time he will have decided to speak! And yet I cannot but think he
was sincere."
With this he re-entered the room where his colleagues were assembled.
But such an extraordinary scene of animation presented itself when he
opened the door that he forgot the object of his visit.
This Committee-room, like the others next to it, formed part of a
suite of apartments recently belonging to the King. It offered a
strange spectacle, with its mixture of elegance and vulgarity, which
said more than words for the ravages of the Revolution.
Over the five doors, two of which opened on to a long corridor, the
royal arms surmounted by a crown had been roughly erased. The walls
and panels of the doors were covered with printed decrees of the
Convention, and tricolour placards were pasted up everywhere. This
array of Revolutionary literature struck the observer as at once
ominous and pathetic, in the midst of all the grace and beauty of
that white and gold reception-room, decorated in the purest Louis XV.
style, with its daintily carved cornices and painted ceiling, where
Nymphs and Cupids sported in the glowing spring-tide among flowers.
The contrast was even more apparent in the furniture. Gilded
armchairs covered with rare tapestry, now all torn, stood side by
side with plain deal seats, some of which were very rickety. A
sideboard laden with eatables and wine-bottles completed the
installation of the Terror in the palace of the Tuileries.
Billaud-Varennes was still standing there on the threshold. Collot
d'Herbois, surrounded by Barère, Carnot, Prieur, and Elie Lacoste,
was violently addressing Saint-Just, Robespierre's friend, who was
seated at the table, engaged in writing the speech he was to deliver
before the Convention on the morrow. Saint-Just, calm and
contemptuous, replied to their insults by a shrug of the shoulders.
This disdain exasperated Collot d'Herbois beyond measure, and
Saint-Just aggravated him still more by ironical inquiries about the
Jacobins' meeting.
"You are nothing more than a traitor!" cried Collot; "it is our
indictment you are drawing up there, I suppose?"
"Yes, traitor! threefold traitor!" exclaimed Elie Lacoste. "Traitor
and perjurer, you form with Robespierre and Couthon a triumvirate of
calumny, falsehood, and betrayal."
Saint-Just, without losing self-possession a moment, stopped in his
writing, and coldly offered to read them his speech.
Barère disdainfully refused to listen.
"We fear neither you nor your accomplices! You are but a child,
Couthon a miserable cripple, and as to Robespierre..."
At this moment an usher brought in a letter to Barère. He looked
uneasy after he had read it, and signed to his colleagues to follow,
leaving Saint-Just free to continue his work. In the lobby Barère
told them it was a letter from Lecointre announcing the approaching
attack upon the Committee by the troops of the Commune, and offering
the battalion of his section for their defence.
"It is exactly as I told you!" cried Elie Lacoste. "The leaders of
the Commune must be instantly arrested, and with them Robespierre and
his two accomplices!"
"Commencing with Saint-Just and his speech," said Collot.
"Robespierre was here just now," observed Billaud-Varennes, who had
followed his colleagues out of the room; "he wanted to know what we
had done with the prisoner from La Force. We told him we had not to
render account to him, whereupon he went away in a rage, crying out,
'You want war? War you shall have then!' We have been warned by the
Incorruptible himself, you see!"
"Yes, but we shall crush him through his Englishman! We have
witnesses enough now!"
"Nay, unhappily we have not!" replied Billaud.
"What! we have no witnesses?" exclaimed Barère in surprise. "What do
you mean? ... Has not Coulongeon...?"
"Coulongeon arrived too late at La Bourbe Lebas had just taken them
off, by Robespierre's orders--no one knows whither."
"Oh! the villain! he suspected something, then, and abducted them to
suppress their evidence; but we have at any rate the young man from
La Force."
"He is upstairs, but he knows nothing."
"He lies, he is a traitor!"
"No, he seemed quite sincere, and he execrates Robespierre; but I
shall question him again to-morrow."
"And meanwhile we must resort to stratagem," remarked Barère.
They discussed and debated the question, and all came to the
conclusion that Barère was right. Their safety lay in stratagem.
After all, there was no immediate peril. Robespierre was not fond of
violent measures, he would not break the bounds of the law unless
driven to it. It was out of sheer vexation that he had thrown that
challenge in Billaud-Varennes' face; and after all, since Saint-Just
had again assured them of the Incorruptible's pure intentions, it
would be perhaps prudent to dissemble and to disarm the triumvirate
by simulating confidence.
On the whole the members of the Committee were undecided, hesitating
between two alternatives, one as dangerous as the other. Either they
must openly attack Robespierre and overthrow him, and thus add to the
already unbounded power of the Committee, which would then more
easily crush the Convention; or they must leave the power in
Robespierre's hands, who, when once master, would lose no time in
annihilating them.
The members returned to the Committee-room where Saint-Just was still
writing. They spoke as if they had altered their mind on thinking
things over. They regretted their hasty words, for after all the
patriotism of Robespierre and his friends had stood a long test.
They spoke of precautions to be taken in case of an unexpected
attack, for warnings had reached them from every quarter. All this
was discussed aloud before Saint-Just, ostensibly to show their
complete confidence in him.
Saint-Just, to all appearance the dupe of their hypocrisy, assured
them they were unnecessarily alarmed. If the Jacobins and the
Commune had formed any projects against the Committee, he would have
heard of it. There was certainly considerable excitement in the
streets among the people whose anger had been aroused at the
calumnies to which Robespierre had been subject. But the
Incorruptible would soon calm them down. As far as he, Saint-Just,
was concerned, he was ready to forget the somewhat hasty words which
one of his colleagues had addressed to him in the heat of the moment.
Collot d'Herbois upon a sign from Barère feigned to regret his hasty
speech, which was, of course, he said, the outcome of excitement. It
was so easy in these times of anger and enmity to be carried away by
the fever of the moment. The dissensions of the Committee were
making them the laughing-stock of their enemies.
Saint-Just, cold and impassive as before, quietly assented, and
meanwhile continued to draft his speech, and when he had finished put
it in his pocket, and looked up at the clock. It was five in morning.
"At ten, the speech will be copied, and I shall read it to you before
the sitting, so that there may be no unpleasantness," said
Saint-Just, rising to go.
Taking his hat and stick, he moved off, the others, to all appearance
reassured, pretending to do likewise; but Saint-Just had no sooner
disappeared than they returned to the Committee-room. It was agreed
to send for the three leaders suspected of assisting Robespierre in
the insurrection: Hauriot, the Commander of the troops; Payan, the
Commune agent; and Fleuriot-Lescot, Mayor of Paris. The ushers
returned with the two last named, but Hauriot was not to be found.
For the space of four hours they retained Payan and Fleuriot-Lescot,
smoking, drinking, eating, talking, and discussing, in the sultry and
oppressive heat which heralded the near approach of a storm. They
thus held them in check for the time being, overwhelming them
meanwhile with questions, to which they replied in terms that tended
to calm the anxiety of the Committee.
During this time the Parisian populace, who had not slept either, had
entered the Convention, the assembly-hall of which, situated also in
the palace of the Tuileries, within ear-shot of the Committee, had
been filling since five o'clock that morning, though the sitting was
not to commence until noon.
Every moment messengers arrived at the Committee-room, ushers out of
breath bringing news, messages, and reports in an endless succession,
which increased as the hours advanced. Payan and Fleuriot-Lescot had
just left, after completely reassuring the Committee. It was now
half-past ten, and the sitting was opened. Saint-Just did not put in
an appearance, but the thump of crutches was heard in the corridor,
announcing the arrival of Couthon, the cripple.
"Where is Saint-Just?"
"He is coming!"
For one hour Couthon kept the Committee in suspense, entertaining
them with Saint-Just's favourite theme, Robespierre's single-minded
patriotism, but still no Saint-Just appeared. The Committee began to
feel annoyed, and soon Carnot, who suspected treachery, spoke out
boldly. It was nothing less, he said, than a preconcerted plan
between Couthon, Saint-Just, and Robespierre.
Couthon protested.
"You do wrong to speak ill of the patriot Robespierre! You are
basely calumniating a friend of your childhood!"
"If I am base, you are a traitor!" retorted Carnot, beside himself
with rage.
But Couthon, anticipating a storm, took up his crutches and stumped
off, protesting as he went. Sinister sounds now reached the
Committee. They had been betrayed! Saint-Just was going to denounce
them from the tribune! The document he had been drafting before
them, there on that table, was nothing more or less than the
indictment of the Committee! Barère had just received trustworthy
information to that effect. Robespierre had drawn up a list of
eighteen names of those destined for the scaffold. A deputy entered
and asked for Billaud-Varennes. He was told that Billaud had just
gone out, but would return shortly.
"Ah! Here is Fouché!" some one exclaimed.
It was in truth Fouché, the deputy, who now entered. He was beset
with questions. Yes! they were not mistaken, he told them.
Robespierre was now going to throw off the mask, and denounce some of
his colleagues. "And I am sure he has not forgotten me," added
Fouché, ironically.
He was immediately surrounded by eager questioners. The names? Did
he know the names? they asked anxiously. Fouché did not know; but
everybody was threatened, and each must look after himself; the
sitting would soon begin.
All turned their eyes anxiously to the clock. It was not yet noon;
they had still twelve minutes! Now another deputy came in,
breathless with the news that Robespierre had just entered the Hall
of the Convention, with his brother Augustin, Couthon, Saint-Just,
Lebas, and all his followers. The galleries, crowded to excess, had
received the Incorruptible with loud cheers.
"Hark, the rabble are applauding; he has hired his usual _claque_,"
said one.
"That's true," another answered. "Since five this morning the
Robespierrists, male and female, have taken possession of the
galleries, yelling, feasting, and drinking."
"They are already drunk."
"Well! Let us go and offer our heads to the drunkards!" exclaimed
Fouché.
But just then a door on the right opened, and Billaud-Varennes
entered. Every one paused.
"Here is Billaud at last."
Billaud was looking anxious, and wiping his brow, worn out with the
heat, he asked for a glass of beer. They eagerly questioned him.
"Was it true, then? They would have to fight?"
"Yes! fight to the death. They ought to have listened to him.
Robespierre had told him plainly enough that there would be war. And
now that they could not prove the plot...."
"What plot?" asked Fouché.
"Ah, yes! It's true; you don't know...."
Billaud made a sign to shut the doors, as Robespierre had spies in
all the corridors. The doors securely closed, Billaud-Varennes again
told the story of the Englishman. Fouché listened with curiosity.
Other members, Vadier, Amar, Voullaud, who had just entered, also
followed Billaud's story with keen interest, while those who already
knew of the plot, came and went, deep in discussion, waiting for
Billaud to finish, to give their opinion.
Billaud-Varennes now produced the order of release for the two women,
signed by Robespierre, and brought from the prison of La Bourbe by
Coulongeon.
"There can be no doubt. We have in this quite enough to ruin him,"
said Fouché; "but what about that young man from La Force?"
"I questioned him again closely just now in the next room. He
persists in his first statement, which appears to me quite
genuine--as genuine as is his rage against Robespierre, whom he
regrets, he says, not to have stabbed at the Fête of the Supreme
Being."
"Ah! if he had! what a riddance!" was the cry with which one and all
greeted Billaud's last words.
"True; but he has not done it," observed Fouché drily. "As to the
plot, it has escaped our grasp."
"Not so," some one remarked; "his treason is evident."
A warm discussion ensued. The treachery was obvious to the
Committee, but it would not be so in the eyes of the public. It must
be proved. And where was the Englishman? Where were the women? To
accuse Robespierre thus, without sufficient proof, was sheer folly.
The only witness available, the agent Coulongeon, was in the pay of
the Committee. Robespierre would make a speech on it, call it a
concocted plan, and annihilate his accusers with an oratorical
flourish.
"Nothing truer!" remarked another deputy.
"He has only to open his mouth and every one trembles."
"Very well; let us gag him," said Fouché. "It's the only means of
putting an end to it all."
They looked at him, not quite catching his meaning. Fouché explained
his idea. They had but to drown Robespierre's voice at the sitting
by their clamour. They had but to howl, scream, vociferate; the
people in the galleries would protest noisily, and their outcry would
add to the tumult. Robespierre would strain his voice in vain to be
heard above the uproar, and then fall back exhausted and vanquished.
"That's it," they cried unanimously.
Billaud also thought this an excellent idea, and at once began to
arrange for letting all their friends know as soon as possible, for
Robespierre must be prevented from uttering a single audible word.
Every one approved. Just then a door opened.
"Be quick! Saint-Just is ascending the tribune!" called a voice.
"Very well. We may as well commence with him."
And they one and all made for the doors in an indescribable disorder.
"Now for it," cried Billaud, laying his glass down on the sideboard.
But meanwhile Fouché signed to Vadier, Amar, and Voullaud to remain.
They looked at him in surprise. Fouché waited for the noise to
subside, then assuring himself that no one could overhear him, he
confided his fears to them. It was not everything to drown
Robespierre's voice. Even arrested, condemned, and on the
death-tumbril, his hands bound, Robespierre would still be dangerous;
a sudden rush and riot could deliver him, and crush them all! Then
lowering his voice, he continued--
"The young madman of whom Billaud spoke just now...."
"Well?"
"Where is he?"
Amar pointed to a door on the left.
"Let him come in!" said Fouché; "I will speak to him in the name of
the Committee."
They did not yet quite grasp his meaning, but Voullaud went all the
same and opened the door.
"Hush!" said Fouché, "here is the young man!"
Olivier entered, followed by a gendarme, who, on seeing Fouché and
the other members, stopped on the threshold. Olivier looked at them
indifferently, expecting to be again cross-examined about the
Englishman. Fouché had taken his hat and put it on, as if going out.
"Young man, you were the first to charge the despot, whom we are
about to fight, with his crimes! This is sufficient to recommend you
to the indulgence of the Committee."
As Olivier advanced in astonishment, he continued--
"You may go if you like!"
Fouché turned to the gendarme--
"The citoyen is free!"
The gendarme retired.
Vadier now understood Fouché's idea. Taking up his hat also, he
remarked--
"And if our enemy is victorious, take care not to fall again into his
clutches!"
Olivier who was preparing to go, stopped suddenly. Unhappily, he
said, he had not only himself to tremble for. His mother and
_fiancée_ were in prison and Robespierre would revenge himself on
them.
"Most probably!" replied Fouché.
"Then the Committee ought to release them also, and with even more
reason!"
Fouché shrugged his shoulders regretfully.
It had been the intention of the Committee, but the two prisoners
were beyond their reach.
"How?" asked Olivier anxiously.
Simply because they were no longer at the prison of La Bourbe.
Olivier gasped--
"Condemned?"
"Not yet! But Lebas had taken them away with an order from
Robespierre."
Here Fouché, picking up the order left on the table by
Billaud-Varennes, showed it to Olivier, who read it in horrified
amazement.
"Where are they then," he cried.
"At the Conciergerie, where they would be judged within twenty-four
hours."
"The wretch! the wretch!"
He implored them that they might be released. The Committee were
all-powerful!--They, powerful, indeed? They looked at him pityingly.
He believed that? What simplicity! How could they release the two
women when they were on the point of being sacrificed themselves?
They would have difficulty enough to save their own heads!
"To-morrow," continued Fouché, "we shall most likely be with your
mother, at the foot of the scaffold."
Olivier looked at them in terror. Was it possible? Was there no one
that could be found to kill this dangerous wild beast?
Fouché, who had consulted his colleagues in a rapid glance, now felt
the moment ripe.
"Assassinate him, you mean?" he asked.
Olivier lost all self-control. Is a mad dog assassinated? He is
killed, that's all! What did it matter if the one who did it were
torn to pieces; he would have had his revenge, and would save further
victims.
"Certainly," said Fouché, "and if Robespierre is victorious, it is
the only chance of saving your mother."
"But don't rely on that!" Vadier remarked.
Amar went even further.
"Patriots like Brutus are not often found!" he said.
But Olivier cried out in his fury that only one was wanted, and then
looked about for the door.
"Which is the way out?"
Vadier pointed to the exit.
"Thank you, citoyens! ... Adieu! au revoir!"
The four men silently watched him disappear, and then looked at each
other.... Would he do it? It was not impossible!
"Meanwhile, let us go and howl!" suggested Fouché.
And they rushed into the Convention-room.