Silent as was the sentinel after the restoration of his musket, it
was, nevertheless, unanimously voted that our enterprise was a
failure. Accordingly, the bar was replaced, the window closed, our
implements stowed in the mattresses, and ourselves packed beneath the
blankets, in momentary expectation of a visit from the jailer and
military commander. We passed the night in feverish expectation, but
our bolts remained undrawn.
Bright and early, with a plenteous breakfast, appeared our spirited
Spaniards, and, as the turnkey admitted and locked them in, they burst
into a fit of uproarious laughter at our maladroit adventure. The poor
sentinel, they said, was found, at the end of his watch, stretched on
the ground in a sort of fainting fit and half frozen. He swore, in
accounting for a bleeding skull, that an invisible hand from the
store-room beneath us, had dealt him a blow that felled him to the
earth! His story was so silly and maudlin, that the captain of the
guard, who remembered the festival and knew the tipsiness of the
entire watch, gave no heed to the tale, but charged it to the account
of New Year and _eau de vie_. We were sadly jeered by the lasses for
our want of pluck, in forsaking the advantage fortune had thrown in
our way, and I was specially charged to practise my hand more
carefully with the _lazo_, when I next got a chance on the
plantations of Cuba, or among the _vaqueros_ of Mexico.
As we expected the daily visit from the punctual inspector, to try our
bars with his iron rod, we hastened to secure our window, and stuffing
all the fissures with straw and rags, so as almost to exclude light,
we complained bitterly to the official of the cold wind to which the
apertures exposed us, and thus prevented him from touching the sash.
Besides this precaution, we thought it best to get rid of our tools
and cord in the same way we received them; and thus terminated our
project of escape.
Soon after, I heard from a relative in Paris, that my petition had
been presented to Louis Philippe, whose reception of it encouraged a
hope for my pardon. The news somewhat restored us to the good humor
that used to prevail in our party, but which had been sadly dashed
since our failure. Even Monsieur Germaine, saw in our anticipated
liberation, a phantom of encouragement for himself, and began to talk
confidentially of his plans. He fancied that I had been gradually
schooled _into a taste for misdemeanor_, so that he favored me with
innumerable anecdotes of swindling, and countless schemes of future
robbery. By making me an incipient accomplice, he thought to secure my
aid either for his escape or release.
I will take the liberty to record a single specimen of Germaine's
prolific fancy in regard to the higher grades of elegant felony, and
will leave him to the tender mercy of the French government, which
allows no _bail_ for such _chevaliers_ but chastises their crime with
an iron hand.
We had scarcely recovered from our trepidation, when the forger got up
one morning, with a radiant face, and whispered that the past night
was fruitful to his brain, for he had planned an enterprise which
would yield a fortune for _any two_ who were wise and bold enough to
undertake it.
Germaine was a philosophic felon. It was perhaps the trick of an
intellect naturally astute, and of a spirit originally refined, to
reject the vulgar baseness of common pilfering. Germaine never stole
or defrauded;--he only outwitted and outgeneralled. If he spoke of the
world, either in politics or trade, he insisted that shams,
forgeries, and counterfeits were quite as much played off in the
language, address and dealings of statesmen, merchants, parsons,
doctors, and lawyers, as they were by himself and his accomplices. The
only difference between the felon and the jury, he alleged, existed in
the fact that the jury was in the majority and the felon in the
vocative. He advocated the worst forms of liberty and equality; he was
decidedly in favor of a division of property, which he was sure would
end what _the law called_ crime, because all would be supplied on the
basis of a common balance. Whenever he told his ancient exploits or
suggested new ones, he glossed them invariably with a rhetorical
varnish about the laws of nature, social contracts, human rights,
_meum and tuum_; and concluded, to his perfect satisfaction, with a
favorite axiom, that "he had quite as much _right_ to the world's
goods as they who possessed them."
A hypocritical farrago of this character always prefaced one of
Germaine's tales, so that I hardly ever interrupted the rogue when he
became fluent about social theories, but waited patiently, in
confidence that I was shortly to be entertained with an adventure or
enterprise.
The forger began his story on this occasion with a most fantastical
and exaggerated account of the celebrated _Santissima Casa_ of
Loretto, which he imagined was still endowed with all the treasures it
possessed anterior to its losses during the pontificate of Pius VI. He
asserted that it was the richest tabernacle in Europe, and that the
adornments of the altar were valued at several millions of
crowns,--the votive offerings and legacies of devotees during a long
period of time.
This holy and opulent shrine, the professor of
politico-economico-equality proposed to rob at some convenient period;
and, to effect it, he had "polished" the following plan during the
watches of the night.
On some stormy day of winter, he proposed to leave Ancona, as a
traveller from South America, and approaching the convent attached to
the church of the Madonna of Loretto, demand hospitality for a
penitent who had made the tiresome pilgrimage on a vow to the Virgin.
There could be no doubt of his admission. For three days he would
most devoutly attend _matins_ and vespers, and crave permission to
serve as an _acolyte_ at the altar, the duties of which he perfectly
understood. When the period of his departure arrived, he would be
seized with sudden illness, and, in all likelihood, the brethren would
lodge him in their infirmary. As his malady increased, he would call a
confessor, and, pouring into the father's credulous ear a tale of
woes, sorrows, superstition and humbug, he would make the convent a
donation of _all his estates in South America_, and pray for a
remission of his sins!
When this comedy was over, convalescence should supervene; but he
would adhere with conscientious obstinacy to his dying gift, and
produce documents showing the immense value of the bequeathed
property. Presently, he would be suddenly smitten with a love for
monastic life; and, on his knees, the Prior was to be interceded for
admission to the brotherhood. All this, probably, would require time,
as well as playacting of the adroitest character; yet he felt
confident he could perform the drama.
At last, when a vow had sealed his novitiate, no one of the fraternity
should exceed him in fervent piety and bodily mortification. Every
hour would find him at the altar before the Virgin, missal in hand,
_and eyes intent on the glittering image_. This incessant and
unwatched devotion, he calculated, would enable him in two months to
take an impression of all the locks in the _sacristy_; and, as his
confederate would call every market-day at the convent gate, in the
guise of a pedler, he could easily cause the keys to be fabricated in
different villages by common locksmiths.
Germaine considered it indispensable that his colleague in this
enterprise should be _a sailor_; for the flight with booty was to be
made over sea from Ancona. As soon, therefore, as the keys were
perfected, and in the hands of the impostor, the mariner was to cause
a _felucca_, to cruise off shore, in readiness for immediate
departure. Then, at a fixed time, the pedler should lurk near the
convent, with a couple of mules; and, in the dead of night, the
sacrilege would be accomplished.
When he finished his story, the pleasant villain, rubbed his hands
with glee, and skipping about the floor like a dancing-master, began
to whistle "_La Marsellaise_." That night, he retired earlier than
usual, "to polish," as he said; but before dawn he again aroused me,
with a pull, and whispered a sudden fear that his "Loretto
masterpiece" would prove an abortion!
"I have considered," said he, "that the Virgin's jewels are probably
nothing but false stones and waxen pearls in pinchbeck gold! Surely,
those cunning monks would never leave such an amount of property idle,
simply to adorn a picture or statue! No, I am positive they must have
sold the gems, substituted imitations, and bought property for their
opulent convents!"--As I felt convinced of this fact, and had some
inkling of a recollection about losses during a former reign, I was
happy to hear that the swindler's fancy had "polished" the crime to
absolute annihilation.
And now that I am about to leave this forging philosopher in prison,
to mature, doubtless, some greater act of villany, I will merely add,
that when I departed, he was constructing a new scheme, in which the
Emperor of Russia was to be victim and paymaster. As my liberation
occurred before the finishing touches were given by the artist, I am
unable to say how it fared with Nicholas; but I doubt, exceedingly,
whether the galleys of Brest contained a greater scoundrel, both in
deeds and imaginings, than the metaphysical dandy--Monsieur
Germaine.[7]
At length, my pardon and freedom came; but this was the sole
reparation I received at the hands of Louis Philippe, for the unjust
seizure and appropriation of my vessel in the neutral waters of
Africa. When Sorret rushed in, followed by his wife, Babette, and the
children, to announce the glorious news, the good fellow's emotion
was so great, that he stood staring at me like a booby, and for a long
while could not articulate. Then came La Vivandiere Dolores, and my
pretty Concha. Next arrived Monsieur Randanne, with the rest of my
pupils; so that, in an hour, I was overwhelmed with sunshine and
tears. I can still feel the grasp of Sorret's hand, as he led me
beyond the bolts and bars, to read the act of royal grace. May we not
feel a _spasm_ of regret at leaving even a prison?
Next day, an affectionate crowd of friends and pupils followed the
emancipated slaver to a vessel, which, by order of the king, was to
bear me, a willing exile, from France for ever.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] I know not what was his fate; but he has probably long since
realized his dream of equality, though, in all likelihood, it was the
equality described by old Patris of Caen:
"Ici tous sont egaux; je ne te dois plus rien:
Je suis sur mon _fumier_ comme toi sur le tien!"