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[Illustration: Book Cover]
WHEN A COBBLER
RULED THE KING
[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK * BOSTON * CHICAGO * DALLAS
ATLANTA * SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON * BOMBAY * CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
When a Cobbler Ruled the King
by
Augusta Husiell Seaman
with
Decoration and Drawings by
George Wharton Edwards
New York The Macmillan Co. 1919
[Illustration: Title Page]
COPYRIGHT, 1911,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
TO MY HUSBAND
FOREWORD
About the tradition of the "Lost Dauphin" there hovers a romance and
charm perennially new, and history contains perhaps no more appealing
little figure than that of Louis XVII of France.
At the time when the tempest of the French Revolution submerged the
throne of the Bourbon monarchy, Louis Charles, royal Dauphin, was but a
child of seven. On his sunny head, for the space of three years, the
Terror wreaked its vengeance; and at the age of ten, it would have been
difficult to recognize in the forlorn little captive of the Temple
Tower, aged by imprisonment and abuse, and experienced in many forms of
suffering, the once light-hearted and lovely child of Versailles and the
Tuileries.
History in its most accepted form has chosen to close this regrettable
chapter with the death of the little prince at the age of ten, and while
still in his unjust captivity. With the receding years, however, there
has arisen a not unreasonable doubt of this premature ending. Evidences
strangely convincing have come to light, revealing a possibility of his
having been rescued, spirited away from his native land, and allowed to
live out the alloted number of his days in peaceful obscurity.
There are few of us who do not welcome this possibility, who do not
relish the thought that his watchful and heartless tormentors may have
been cleverly hoodwinked. And added to our pleasure in a happier fate
for this much-wronged child of monarchy, is the delightful romance and
mystery with which a possible escape and an existence thenceforth
incognito has surrounded the history of the "Lost Dauphin." In the field
of fiction the subject affords an all but endless variety of solution,
and numerous are the romances woven about the person of "Little Capet."
Curiously enough, few if any of these novels are quite suitable for
younger readers, though the subject is one that should have a special
appeal for the hearts of youth, since the chief personality is a child
of peculiarly winning characteristics, and one who endured diversified
and exciting vicissitudes.
Such a story I have striven to relate in _When a Cobbler Ruled the
King_, endeavoring to present a picture, faithful as far as it goes, of
the historical and political situation. It may add to the interest of
the story to know that except for the persons of "Jean," "La Souris" and
"Prevot," who are pure fiction, there is not one character in the book
but has a counterpart in history. These characters are in the main
obscure enough to admit of much latitude in fictitious presentation. The
Citizeness Clouet, of number 670 rue de Lille, was actually the
laundress for the Temple Tower, and her little daughter was occasionally
introduced into the prison by Commissary Barelle to play with the
captive prince. Had there been schemes of escape concocted by the few
friends remaining to royalty, as doubtless there were, it would be
scarcely strange if the laundress had been involved in them.
Be these things as they may, it is to be hoped that the history of the
throneless, crownless, ill-used child-king, Louis XVII of France, will
make its own appeal to the hearts of all childhood.
A. H. S.
RICHMOND HILL, L. I.
February, 1911.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. IN THE DAUPHIN'S GARDEN 3
II. JEAN MEETS WITH A THIN YOUNG MAN 23
III. IN WHICH THE DAUPHIN WEARS THE RED CAP 41
IV. ON TERRIBLE AUGUST TENTH 59
V. A DOMICILIARY VISIT 81
VI. ENTER THE COBBLER--EXIT THE KING 101
VII. THE SCHEME OF THE BARON DE BATZ 117
VIII. THE COBBLER TAKES COMMAND 135
IX. HOW YVONNE SAW THE KING 155
X. THE BLOW FALLS 173
XI. EXIT THE COBBLER 193
XII. A FRIEND RE-ENTERS AND EVENTS MOVE ON 211
XIII. THE TENTH THERMIDOR 231
XIV. IN WHICH JEAN "FINDS CARON" 249
XV. LA SOURIS MEETS HIS MATCH 271
XVI. THE LAST MOVE 295
XVII. THE STAR OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 317
XVIII. AFTER LONG YEARS 341
ILLUSTRATIONS
From drawings by George Wharton Edwards
* * * * *
FACING
PAGE
Decorative Title Page
The King and his Family driven through the pitiless crowd 76
Sing that song about the Austrian wolf or I'll throttle you 160
He stood before the former child of the Tower--Louis XVII 342
IN THE DAUPHIN'S GARDEN
CHAPTER I
IN THE DAUPHIN'S GARDEN
"Hurry along, Yvonne! Why do you lag behind so!"
"Oh, Jean! I am doing my best, but your legs are so long, and you take
such great strides that I can scarcely keep up!"
Two children, a well-grown, long-limbed boy of twelve, and a little girl
of scarcely more than seven, were hurrying hand-in-hand along the Rue
St. Honore, on a brilliant May morning in the year 1792. Paris on that
day resembled, more than anything else, a great bee-hive whose swarming
population buzzed hither and thither under the influence of angry
excitement and general unrest. The two youngsters were bubbling over
with the same eager restlessness that agitated their elders. They pushed
their way through throngs of men in red liberty-caps, soldiers in
uniforms of the National Guard, and women in tri-coloured skirts and
bodices. Poor little Yvonne, panting and tired, struggled to keep up
with the striding gait of her larger companion.
"If you don't hurry," said Jean, "we shall not see the little 'Wolf-Cub'
out for his walk, and I want a look at him!"
"Is he very dreadful to look at?" queried Yvonne, innocently.
"I don't know,--I've never seen him," answered Jean, "but he must be
pretty ugly if he's the son of a monster,--and that's what they call our
Citizen King!"
They turned into a narrow lane with but few houses on either side. At
one end stood the church of St. Roch, and at the other lay the park of
the Tuileries, in the centre of which rose the royal palace.
"This is called the Rue du Dauphin because the little monster comes
through it when he goes to church," remarked Jean.
"Well, I think he can't be so very dreadful if he goes to church,"
protested Yvonne.
"Oh, he only pretends to be good to deceive us!" answered Jean,
carelessly.
When they reached the park, they turned and ran along the edge till they
came to the side flanked by the river Seine. Here they were stopped by a
low wooden fence decorated with festoons of tri-coloured ribbons and
bunting. In a small plot of ground behind this fence, a little boy could
be seen digging up the ground about some flower-beds. He was a really
beautiful child and his age evidently did not much exceed seven years.
Great blue eyes looked out of a face whose expression was one of
charming attractiveness. His silky golden-brown hair fell in curls about
his shoulders, and he was dressed in the uniform of a tiny National
Guard, with a small jewelled sword hanging at his side. About his feet
a handsome, coal-black spaniel romped, shaking his long ears that almost
trailed on the ground, barking and biting at the spade in his master's
hand.
Jean stopped and looked over the fence. His snapping black eyes grew
soft at the sight of the group within. What boyish heart does not yearn
toward a dog!
"That's a fine little spaniel you have there, Citizen Boy!" he remarked.
"What do you call him?" The child inside the fence looked up with a
pleased smile.
"His name is Moufflet. Isn't he a beauty? Don't you want to pet him?"
The little boy lifted the wriggling animal to the fence while Jean put
out his hand and stroked the long, curly ears.
"Jean! Jean! lift me up! I want to see him too!" begged Yvonne who was
so short that her head barely came to the top of the fence. Jean reached
down, and with his strong arms swung her to a seat on his shoulder.
"Oh, you beautiful thing!" she exclaimed. "And what a pretty little boy,
too! I like you, boy!" The little fellow laughed with pleasure.
"And I like you also!" he declared. "Don't you want some flowers? I
gathered some for my mother this morning, but I think there are enough
left to make you a nice bouquet." Dropping the dog, he ran hither and
thither gathering from one bush and another, till he had collected quite
a large mass of blossoms. These he handed to the little girl, saying:
"And won't you tell me your name?"
"I am Yvonne Marie Clouet," she answered, burying her face in the
fragrant bunch, "and I thank you!"
Jean, however, was growing restless. This was all very pleasant, but it
was not that for which he had stolen a holiday from the services of the
Citizeness Clouet, risking thereby the prospect of certain punishment,
and had hurried through two miles of hot streets to see. He leaned
across the fence toward the boy, and spoke in a half-whisper:
"I say, Citizen Boy, do you happen to know whereabouts we can get a
sight of the little 'Wolf-Cub'?" The child looked startled.
"I don't know what you mean!" he replied.
"Why, you must know!--the son of that monster, the Citizen King!" The
little fellow drew back proudly. His blue eyes grew dark with anger, and
he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I am the Dauphin of France! And my father the King is _not_ a monster!
He is a good man!" Jean was so astonished that he let go his hold of
Yvonne, who all but toppled from her perch on his shoulder.
"But--but--" he stammered, "you are not a bit like what they said! What
does all this mean? I--I like you! I don't care if you _are_ the
Dauphin! Say, will you forgive me, little Citizen Prince?" The generous
heart of the royal child was as quick to forgive as it was to take
offence, and he held out his hand with a charming smile. Jean took it,
glanced furtively around, and shook it heartily.
"I hope no one sees me doing this!" he muttered. The Dauphin, now all
restored to good humour, seated himself on an upturned box and nursed
his knees with his clasped hands.
"Let us talk awhile!" he begged. "I do not see any children now, except
my sister, and I'm often very lonely. Please tell me your name."
"I am called Jean Dominique Mettot," answered his new friend. "That is
the name they gave me in the Foundling Hospital from which the
Citizeness Clouet took me."
"Oh, did you come from the Foundling Hospital?" eagerly replied the
Dauphin. "Why, I used to go there often with the Queen, my mother. We
brought food and money for the sick children. I loved to go there! I
never wanted to come away!"
"Did the Citizeness Queen really go there?" marvelled Jean. "Why, she
can't be such a bad one, after all!" The Dauphin's face grew sad.
"Do you know," he said, "I believe that people say a great many false
things about my father and mother because they do not know the
truth,--they do not know how really _good_ they are!"
"Oh, they say bad enough things!" remarked Jean, cheerfully. "You ought
to hear a man they call Citizen Marat! He gets up on a bench in our
street and tells the people that the king and queen are starving them
just for the pastime of hearing them howl for bread,--that they like
that kind of music!"
"It is not true! It is not true!" repeated the Dauphin with tears in his
eyes. "Oh, if you could only _see_ my father, you would not think so!"
Then, glancing over his shoulder he exclaimed gladly, "Why, here he is
now!" Jean made a movement to put down Yvonne and take to his heels,
but the Dauphin begged him to stay. They all stood silent, watching the
approach of a large, stout man who walked slowly with his hands clasped
behind him. His face was gentle, thoughtful and kindly. Across his coat
were stretched the ribbons of several royal orders.
"Father!" called the Dauphin when the King drew near enough. "These are
my little new friends, Yvonne and Jean. Won't you speak to them?" The
King smiled at his son and came over to the fence.
"Good-morning, my children!" he said kindly, laying a hand on Jean's
shoulder. "I am glad to know and greet the friends of my son." Jean
looked up into the fatherly eyes, and noticed the sad lines about the
gentle mouth. He was sorely puzzled in his boyish heart. Certainly this
was not the horrible monster such as he had heard the King described in
the Faubourg St. Antoine. The boy was thoroughly in sympathy with the
downtrodden people who were rising at last to claim their liberty and a
few other inalienable human rights. But there was something wrong
somewhere! At any rate, this royal gentleman had that about him which
compelled his reverence and trust. Snatching off his red liberty-cap,
Jean bent his knee and kissed the hand of Louis XVI of France!
* * * * *
"Yvonne," remarked Jean, as they strolled homeward, "we--at least _I_
will have to pay for this little holiday!"
"Oh, Jean, I'm sorry! I ought to take part of the punishment, for I made
you take me," sympathised Yvonne.
"Mother Clouet won't beat _you_, you can warrant, but this is the day
when I should have carried the wash to the Rue du Bac," explained her
companion. "Oh, well! I have had my dance, now I must pay the fiddler!"
It was evident that this was not Jean's first attempt at playing truant.
Then a new thought struck him and he stopped short.
"Yvonne, what do you think of the poor little Citizen Dauphin?"
"I love him!" she answered simply.
"Well, I do too, and yet I suppose I ought not, if I am to be a good
citizen of the Nation. Kings are wrong! We've had enough kings, and
they've trodden us under foot and robbed us of our rights for centuries.
And yet this little fellow might make a good one. Who knows! And there's
his father, too--the Citizen King. How did you like him?"
"He seemed very, very kind," answered Yvonne, "and very sad. I felt
sorry for him. And I don't believe all the things they say about him,
either. Why did you kiss his hand, Jean?"
"I don't know! Something made me. Perhaps it's because he is so
different from what we thought. But, see here, Yvonne! Let me tell you
that if anyone finds out how we feel, or that I kissed his hand, our
heads won't be safe on our shoulders! Do you know that?" The child made
a frightened gesture of assent.
"Then keep it to yourself!" said Jean, shortly. They walked on in
silence, and with dragging steps. It was plain that they were in no
hurry to get home.
"Shall we go to see the little prince again?" inquired Yvonne.
"I'd certainly like to. We will try to go soon,--as soon as I can make
up my mind to another beating!" answered Jean, whimsically. Then in a
more sober manner:
"He's lonesome, poor little fellow! It's a shame for the people to take
away his liberty and keep him cooped up in that palace without any
little friends, I say!"
They turned at length into the Rue de Lille, a narrow, dirty street,
rather deserted at the time, since most of the inhabitants were off at
the Place de la Revolution, singing the "Marseillaise," shouting for
Danton, or dancing the Carmagnole. At the door of the house numbered
"670," stood a woman in a short cotton dress and wooden shoes. She was
shading her eyes and looking far up the street, in the direction
opposite to that from which the children were approaching.
"There's Mere Clouet now!" whispered Jean. Suddenly the woman turned,
caught sight of the pair, and made a dash at Jean who ducked, slid aside
and came out unharmed quite behind the enraged laundress. But Mere
Clouet was agile, and moreover well acquainted with Jean's system of
manoeuvres!
"Ah, you rascal!" she shouted, catching him deftly by the collar. "You
_will_ run away for the whole day, and leave me to carry home the wash
myself! You _will_ entrap my little Yvonne and force her to accompany
you, scaring her good mother almost beyond her wits lest the child come
to harm! To bed you go this night with never a bite or a sup, and lucky
you'll be if there's a whole bone in your lazy, idle body!"
With her great, muscular arms she shook Jean till his teeth clicked
together, dropping him only when sheer exhaustion compelled her. Poor
Yvonne stood by, trembling, wide-eyed and frightened. Citizeness Clouet
having temporarily disposed of Jean, turned her attention to her
daughter.
"And as for thee, naughty little mouse!--" Then her eyes fell for the
first time on the flowers.
"But by all the saints, where did you get that magnificent bouquet,
child? Never since I was a girl in Normandy have I seen such blossoms,
except on the altars in the churches at Eastertide!"
"Why, Mother, the dear little Citizen Dauphin gave them to me!"
exclaimed Yvonne. Then she cast a frightened glance at Jean, remembering
too late his warning on the way home. Jean himself trembled, and
expected that Mere Clouet would break into a torrent of abuse and
invective against the little prince. But to their astonishment she
replied:
"The poor little fellow! Well do I remember how his mother brought him
to the great church of Notre Dame when he was but a tiny baby. You,
Yvonne, were also but a few months old, and I carried you out with me to
see the sight. The Queen in her carriage held him up that all the people
might see him, and how the crowds sang and shouted for joy! Who would
have thought that in seven years they would be keeping him a prisoner in
his own palace and calling him names! These are marvellous times! But
tell me how you came to see him. 'Tis quite a jaunt from here to the
Tuileries."
Encouraged by her mother's relenting mood, Yvonne told the story of
their morning, described the Dauphin, the King and even Moufflet. Jean
too forgot that he was in disgrace, and added his say to the tale at
frequent intervals. Then Yvonne cast all caution to the winds.
"Mother," she ended, "I love the little Citizen Dauphin, and I'm sorry
for his father the Citizen King, and I don't care if you do know it! So
does Jean!"
"Hush, hush, precious one!" exclaimed her mother in alarm. "The walls
may have ears! Never say that thought aloud if you do not wish us all to
be made acquainted with the sharp edge of La Guillotine! But tell me,
what else said the little lad?"
"He said, Citizeness Clouet," broke in Jean, "just when we were coming
away, that if we were ever in need or trouble, his good parents the King
and Queen would help us out if they could. Do you know, I believe that
if you were to ask them, they would give you the money to pay the taxes
that you said would be due next month, and that you could never pay.
Then we would not be turned out of the house. Why don't you ask it?" But
Mere Clouet was incredulous.
"The little Prince is all very well," she remarked scornfully, "but his
father and mother are a different matter. They have ground the poor
under their heel for many years, and they only do an act of charity
when there may be a crowd around to see and applaud it. Trust me, Jean
and Yvonne, the King and Queen would set the soldiery upon us were we to
come and demand money!" But Jean was far from convinced.
"If you would only try!" he begged. "They seemed so kind to-day. Come
with us to-morrow, and see the little fellow! At least it can do no
harm!"
"Well, we shall see!" she conceded. "But tell no one about this, or,--"
and she made a sign indicative of the instability of their heads. "And
now, sit you down to your supper, Yvonne. And you, idle
good-for-nothing, sit you down also, since you have paid with your
chattering tongue for your day's wickedness!"
And so Jean sat down!
JEAN MEETS WITH A THIN YOUNG MAN