Being a fragment from the diary of Valentine Lemercier, in the
possession of her great-granddaughter.
We were such a happy family before this terrible Revolution broke out;
we lived rather simply, but very comfortably, in our dear old home just
on the borders of the forest of Compiegne. Jean and Andre were the
twins; just fifteen years old they were when King Louis was deposed from
the throne of France which God had given him, and sent to prison like a
common criminal, with our beautiful Queen Marie Antoinette and the Royal
children, and Madame Elizabeth, who was so beloved by the poor!
Ah! that seems very, very long ago now. No doubt you know better than I
do all that happened in our beautiful land of France and in lovely Paris
about that time: goods and property confiscated, innocent men, women,
and children condemned to death for acts of treason which they had never
committed.
It was in August last year that they came to "Mon Repos" and arrested
papa, and maman, and us four young ones and dragged us to Paris, where
we were imprisoned in a narrow and horribly dank vault in the Abbaye,
where all day and night through the humid stone walls we heard cries and
sobs and moans from poor people, who no doubt were suffering the same
sorrows and the same indignities as we were.
I had just passed my nineteenth birthday, and Marguerite was only
thirteen. Maman was a perfect angel during that terrible time; she kept
up our courage and our faith in God in a way that no one else could have
done. Every night and morning we knelt round her knee and papa sat close
beside her, and we prayed to God for deliverance from our own
afflictions, and for the poor people who were crying and moaning all the
day.
But of what went on outside our prison walls we had not an idea, though
sometimes poor papa would brave the warder's brutalities and ask him
questions of what was happening in Paris every day.
"They are hanging all the aristos to the street-lamps of the city," the
man would reply with a cruel laugh, "and it will be your turn next."
We had been in prison for about a fortnight, when one day--oh! shall I
ever forget it?--we heard in the distance a noise like the rumbling of
thunder; nearer and nearer it came, and soon the sound became less
confused, cries and shrieks could be heard above that rumbling din; but
so weird and menacing did those cries seem that instinctively--though
none of us knew what they meant--we all felt a nameless terror grip our
hearts.
Oh! I am not going to attempt the awful task of describing to you all
the horrors of that never-to-be-forgotten day. People, who to-day cannot
speak without a shudder of the September massacres, have not the
remotest conception of what really happened on that awful second day of
that month.
We are all at peace and happy now, but whenever my thoughts fly back to
that morning, whenever the ears of memory recall those hideous yells of
fury and of hate, coupled with the equally horrible cries for pity,
which pierced through the walls behind which the six of us were
crouching, trembling, and praying, whenever I think of it all my heart
still beats violently with that same nameless dread which held it in its
deathly grip then.
Hundreds of men, women, and children were massacred in the prisons of
that day--it was a St. Bartholomew even more hideous than the last.
Maman was trying in vain to keep our thoughts fixed upon God--papa sat
on the stone bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his head buried in
his hands; but maman was kneeling on the floor, with her dear arms
encircling us all and her trembling lips moving in continuous prayer.
We felt that we were facing death--and what a death, O my God!
Suddenly the small grated window--high up in the dank wall--became
obscured. I was the first to look up, but the cry of terror which rose
from my heart was choked ere it reached my throat.
Jean and Andre looked up, too, and they shrieked, and so did Marguerite,
and papa jumped up and ran to us and stood suddenly between us and the
window like a tiger defending its young.
But we were all of us quite silent now. The children did not even cry;
they stared, wide-eyed, paralysed with fear.
Only maman continued to pray, and we could hear papa's rapid and
stertorous breathing as he watched what was going on at that window
above.
Heavy blows were falling against the masonry round the grating, and we
could hear the nerve-racking sound of a file working on the iron bars;
and farther away, below the window, those awful yells of human beings
transformed by hate and fury into savage beasts.
How long this horrible suspense lasted I cannot now tell you; the next
thing I remember clearly is a number of men in horrible ragged clothing
pouring into our vault-like prison from the window above; the next
moment they rushed at us simultaneously--or so it seemed to me, for I
was just then recommending my soul to God, so certain was I that in that
same second I would cease to live.
It was all like a dream, for instead of the horrible shriek of satisfied
hate which we were all expecting to hear, a whispering voice, commanding
and low, struck our ears and dragged us, as it were, from out the abyss
of despair into the sudden light of hope.
"If you will trust us," the voice whispered, "and not be afraid, you
will be safely out of Paris within an hour."
Papa was the first to realise what was happening; he had never lost his
presence of mind even during the darkest moment of this terrible time,
and he said quite calmly and steadily now:
"What must we do?"
"Persuade the little ones not to be afraid, not to cry, to be as still
and silent as may be," continued the voice, which I felt must be that of
one of God's own angels, so exquisitely kind did it sound to my ear.
"They will be quiet and still without persuasion," said papa; "eh,
children?"
And Jean, Andre, and Marguerite murmured: "Yes!" whilst maman and I drew
them closer to us and said everything we could think of to make them
still more brave.
And the whispering, commanding voice went on after awhile:
"Now will you allow yourselves to be muffled and bound, and, after that,
will you swear that whatever happens, whatever you may see or hear, you
will neither move nor speak? Not only your own lives, but those of many
brave men will depend upon your fulfilment of this oath."
Papa made no reply save to raise his hand and eyes up to where God
surely was watching over us all. Maman said in her gentle, even voice:
"For myself and my children, I swear to do all that you tell us."
A great feeling of confidence had entered into her heart, just as it had
done into mine. We looked at one another and knew that we were both
thinking of the same thing: we were thinking of the brave Englishman and
his gallant little band of heroes, about whom we had heard many
wonderful tales--how they had rescued a number of innocent people who
were unjustly threatened with the guillotine; and we all knew that the
tall figure, disguised in horrible rags, who spoke to us with such a
gentle yet commanding voice, was the man whom rumour credited with
supernatural powers, and who was known by the mysterious name of "The
Scarlet Pimpernel."
Hardly had we sworn to do his bidding than his friends most
unceremoniously threw great pieces of sacking over our heads, and then
proceeded to tie ropes round our bodies. At least, I know that that is
what one of them was doing to me, and from one or two whispered words of
command which reached my ear I concluded that papa and maman and the
children were being dealt with in the same summary way.
I felt hot and stifled under that rough bit of sacking, but I would not
have moved or even sighed for worlds. Strangely enough, as soon as my
eyes and ears were shut off from the sounds and sights immediately round
me, I once more became conscious of the horrible and awful din which was
going on, not only on the other side of our prison walls, but inside the
whole of the Abbaye building and in the street beyond.
Once more I heard those terrible howls of rage and of satisfied hatred,
uttered by the assassins who were being paid by the government of our
beautiful country to butcher helpless prisoners in their hundreds.
Suddenly I felt myself hoisted up off my feet and slung up on to a pair
of shoulders that must have been very powerful indeed, for I am no light
weight, and once more I heard the voice, the very sound of which was
delight, quite close to my ear this time, giving a brief and
comprehensive command:
"All ready!--remember your part--en avant!"
Then it added in English. "Here, Tony, you start kicking against the
door whilst we begin to shout!"
I loved those few words of English, and hoped that maman had heard them
too, for it would confirm her--as it did me--in the happy knowledge that
God and a brave man had taken our rescue in hand.
But from that moment we might have all been in the very ante-chamber of
hell. I could hear the violent kicks against the heavy door of our
prison, and our brave rescuers seemed suddenly to be transformed into a
cageful of wild beasts. Their shouts and yells were as horrible as any
that came to us from the outside, and I must say that the gentle, firm
voice which I had learnt to love was as execrable as any I could hear.
Apparently the door would not yield, as the blows against it became more
and more violent, and presently from somewhere above my head--the window
presumably--there came a rough call, and a raucous laugh:
"Why? what in the name of---- is happening here?"
And the voice near me answered back equally roughly: "A quarry of
six--but we are caught in this confounded trap--get the door open for
us, citizen--we want to get rid of this booty and go in search for
more."
A horrible laugh was the reply from above, and the next instant I heard
a terrific crash; the door had at last been burst open, either from
within or without, I could not tell which, and suddenly all the din, the
cries, the groans, the hideous laughter and bibulous songs which had
sounded muffled up to now burst upon us with all their hideousness.
That was, I think, the most awful moment of that truly fearful hour. I
could not have moved then, even had I wished or been able to do so; but
I knew that between us all and a horrible, yelling, murdering mob there
was now nothing--except the hand of God and the heroism of a band of
English gentlemen.
Together they gave a cry--as loud, as terrifying as any that were
uttered by the butchering crowd in the building, and with a wild rush
they seemed to plunge with us right into the thick of the awful melee.
At least, that is what it all felt like to me, and afterwards I heard
from our gallant rescuer himself that that is exactly what he and his
friends did. There were eight of them altogether, and we four young ones
had each been hoisted on a pair of devoted shoulders, whilst maman and
papa were each carried by two men.
I was lying across the finest pair of shoulders in the world, and close
to me was beating the bravest heart on God's earth.
Thus burdened, these eight noble English gentlemen charged right through
an army of butchering, howling brutes, they themselves howling with the
fiercest of them.
All around me I heard weird and terrific cries: "What ho! citizens--what
have you there?"
"Six aristos!" shouted my hero boldly as he rushed on, forging his way
through the crowd.
"What are you doing with them?" yelled a raucous voice.
"Food for the starving fish in the river," was the ready response.
"Stand aside, citizen," he added, with a round curse; "I have my orders
from citizen Danton himself about these six aristos. You hinder me at
your peril."
He was challenged over and over again in the same way, and so were his
friends who were carrying papa and maman and the children; but they were
always ready with a reply, ready with an invective or a curse; with eyes
that could not see, one could imagine them as hideous, as vengeful, as
cruel as the rest of the crowd.
I think that soon I must have fainted from sheer excitement and terror,
for I remember nothing more till I felt myself deposited on a hard
floor, propped against the wall, and the stifling piece of sacking taken
off my head and face.
I looked around me, dazed and bewildered; gradually the horrors of the
past hour came back to me, and I had to close my eyes again, for I felt
sick and giddy with the sheer memory of it all.
But presently I felt stronger and looked around me again. Jean and Andre
were squatting in a corner close by, gazing wide-eyed at the group of
men in filthy, ragged clothing, who sat round a deal table in the centre
of a small, ill-furnished room.
Maman was lying on a horsehair sofa at the other end of the room, with
Marguerite beside her, and papa sat in a low chair by her side, holding
her hand.
The voice I loved was speaking in its quaint, somewhat drawly cadence:
"You are quite safe now, my dear Monsieur Lemercier," it said; "after
Madame and the young people have had a rest, some of my friends will
find you suitable disguises, and they will escort you out of Paris, as
they have some really genuine passports in their possessions, which we
obtain from time to time through the agency of a personage highly placed
in this murdering government, and with the help of English banknotes.
Those passports are not always unchallenged, I must confess," added my
hero with a quaint laugh; "but to-night everyone is busy murdering in
one part of Paris, so the other parts are comparatively safe."
Then he turned to one of his friends and spoke to him in English:
"You had better see this through, Tony," he said, "with Hastings and
Mackenzie. Three of you will be enough; I shall have need of the
others."
No one seemed to question his orders. He had spoken, and the others made
ready to obey. Just then papa spoke up:
"How are we going to thank you, sir?" he asked, speaking broken English,
but with his habitual dignity of manner.
"By leaving your welfare in our hands, Monsieur," replied our gallant
rescuer quietly.
Papa tried to speak again, but the Englishman put up his hand to stop
any further talk.
"There is no time now, Monsieur," he said with gentle courtesy. "I must
leave you, as I have much work yet to do."
"Where are you going, Blakeney?" asked one of the others.
"Back to the Abbaye prison," he said; "there are other women and
children to be rescued there!"