THE BASTILLE.
"La Bastille! où toute personne, quels que soient son rang, son âge,
son sexe, peut entrer sans savoir pourquoi, rester sans savoir
combien, en attendant d'en sortir sans savoir comment."--Servan.
"On what charge is that letter issued?" asked Elphinston a moment
later, when he had recovered somewhat from the stupefaction into which
the exempt's last words had thrown him. "On what charge?"
"Monsieur," the man replied, "how can I answer you? Nay! who could do
so? Not even De Launey, the Governor, could tell you that. These
_billets-doux_ are none too explicit. They order us, the exempts, in
one letter to arrest; the Governor, in another, to receive. But that
is all. It is from the examiners, the judges, from D'Argenson himself,
wise child of a wise father! that you must seek an explanation."
"But there is no possible reason for it, no earthly charge that can be
brought against me. It must be a mistake!"
"So all say," the exempt exclaimed, repressing a faint smile that rose
to his features. "Yet, here is the name, very clearly written," and he
took from his pocket the lettre de cachet, impressed with a great
stamp, and read from it:--"'Elphinston. Scotch. Capitaine du Regiment
de Picardy. Troop Fifth, at St. Denis.' That is you, monsieur?"
"Yes," Bertie said with a gasp. "It is I. No doubt about that."
There rose before his mind, as he spoke, every story, every legend he
had ever heard in connection with the Bastille. And although it is
true that, in the days when that fortress existed, it was not regarded
in so terrible a light as time and fiction have since cast upon its
memory, it still presented itself in a sufficiently appalling aspect.
Men undoubtedly went in and came out after very short intervals of
incarceration--some doing so two or three times a year--yet, if all
reports were true, there were some sent there who never came out
again. Moreover, few who were committed could ever learn the reason
whereof until they were ultimately released, and no communication
whatever, except by stealth and great good fortune could be made with
the outer world. From the time the gates closed on them they were lost
to that outer world for the period--long or short--which they passed
there. This knowledge alone, without the aid of time and fiction, was,
indeed, sufficient to make Elphinston gasp.
"When," he asked, after another pause for reflection on the state in
which he now found himself, "does that lettre de cachet come into
operation--when do you propose to put it into force?"
"Monsieur," replied Carvel, with a swift glance at him and another at
the man standing behind, "it _has_ come into operation; it is already
in force."
"You mean----?"
"I mean that you have surrendered yourself without having to be sought
for--without having to be arrested. Please to consider it in that
light, monsieur."
"To consider it in the light that I am to be conveyed to the Bastille
from here--at once?"
"If monsieur pleases. Though not at once--not this immediate instant.
Monsieur de Launey prefers to receive those who are sent to him at
eight o'clock in the morning. That is his hour of reception."
Again Bertie paused an instant, then said:
"In such case I may advise my friends of this detention. It will ease
their minds--and it can be done before eight o'clock. It is now
scarcely midnight."
"I regret to have to say No, monsieur," and Bertie started at his
reply. "Such would be against all order, all rule. From the moment the
persons named in the lettres de cachet are in our hands they can have
no further communication with their friends."
"What if I refuse to comply with your demands--with the demands of
that lettre de cachet? What then, I say?"
"Monsieur is here," the exempt replied, "that is sufficient. It is too
late for him now to retreat. We are furnished with attendants for
escorting to the Bastille those who are arrested; monsieur will
perceive it would be vain for him to contend against us. There are at
the present moment half-a-dozen such attendants in this house."
"So be it," said Bertie, "I will not contend. Some absurd mistake has
been made that will be rectified as soon as I have seen the Governor."
"_Sans doute_," replied the exempt; "meanwhile let me suggest to
monsieur that he should rest until it is necessary to set out. He may
yet have some hours of refreshing sleep."
"I do not desire to sleep," Bertie said, "only to be left alone. Is
that impossible, too?"
"By no means. We have a room here in which monsieur may remain at his
ease. But," and he pointed to the labelled swords hanging on the
walls, "it is our habit to disembarrass all who are brought here of
their weapons. Those who are arrested at their own houses or lodgings
leave them in custody there. But monsieur may rest assured of his
weapon being quite safe. If he comes out to-morrow or--or--or--a month
later, say, it will be at his service."
"If," replied Bertie, taking off his diamond-cut civilian sword, "it
had been the weapon of my profession, you should never have had it. As
it is--take it."
"Keep it carefully," said Carvel to his men, "until Monsieur le
Capitaine returns. I guarantee you 'twill not be long ere he does so.
I myself believe, monsieur, a mistake has been made. 'Tis not with
such metal as you that Madame la Bastille is ordinarily stuffed."
After this, and on receiving Bertie's word of honour that he had no
other weapon of any kind, knife nor pistol, about him, he was shown
into a room at the back of the house, where the exempt told him he
would be quite undisturbed--a room the window of which, he noticed,
was cross-barred, and with, outside the window, a high blank wall.
Here he passed the night in reflections of the most melancholy nature,
wondering and wondering again and again on what unknown possibility
could have led to this new phase in his existence. At one moment--so
far afield did he have to go to seek for some cause for his arrest--he
mused, if by any chance Fordingbridge could have come to Paris and,
exercising some to him unknown influence, have procured the lettre de
cachet. Yet he was obliged to discard this idea from his mind as he
had discarded others, when he reflected that nothing was more unlikely
than that the minister of the King would have signed an order for the
incarceration of one Englishman at the request of another. But, with
this conjecture dismissed, he had to content himself and remain as
much in the dark as before.
At seven o'clock the exempt came to him and told him that it was time
to set out.
"A coach is ready, monsieur," he said, "all is now prepared. Would you
desire to make any toilette before your departure?"
Bertie said he would, and when he had done this, laving his face and
washing his hands in a basin brought him by two of Carvel's
attendants, he announced that he was prepared to accompany him.
"Perhaps when I have seen the Governor of the Bastille," he said, "I
shall better understand why I am confided to his keeping."
To which once more the other replied, "_Sans doute_."
Everything being therefore ready, Carvel and Elphinston entered the
coach, while, of four men who had appeared on the scene that morning,
two went inside with them, and the others, mounting horses, rode on
either side of the vehicle. In this way they progressed through the
small portion of the city necessary to be traversed, arriving at the
fortress exactly as the great clock over the doorway--decorated with a
bas relief representing two slaves manacled together--struck eight.
That their destination was apparent to those members of the populace
by whom they passed it was easy to perceive. Women and men, hurrying
to their shops and places of business, regarded the party with glances
which plainly showed that they knew whither they were going, the
former doing so with terrified and uneasy looks, the latter according
to their disposition. Of these, some laughed and made jeering
allusions to the morning ride which the gentleman was taking; some
frowned with disapproval; and some there were who muttered to one
another, "How long? How long shall we groan under the tyranny of our
masters?" while others answered, "Not for ever! It cannot be for ever,
though the good God alone knows when the end will come. Perhaps not
even in our day!"
"Descend, monsieur," said the exempt, as the coach drew up; then,
turning to some sentinels within the gate which opened to receive
them, he remarked, "_Couvrez-vous, messieurs_."
Surprised at this order, which Bertie did not understand, he glanced
at the soldiers standing about and observed that, as he approached
them, they removed their hats from their heads and placed them before
their faces until he had passed by, so that they could by no means
have seen what his appearance was like. And to the inquiring look
which he directed to his captain, the exempt replied, with a slight
laugh:
"Madame la Bastille endeavours ever to be a polite hostess. She thinks
it not well that these fellows, who are not always in her service,
should be able afterwards to recognise her guests when they have
quitted her hospitable roof. _Vraiment!_ her manners are of the most
finished. Come, Monsieur Elphinston, Jourdan de Launey attends us.[6]
He rises ever at seven, so as to welcome those who arrive early. Come,
I beg."
Following, therefore, his guide, and followed by the men who had
escorted them, Bertie crossed a drawbridge and a courtyard, and then
arrived at a flight of stone stairs let into the wall, at which was
stationed an officer handsomely dressed, who, on seeing Elphinston,
bowed politely to him and requested that he would do him the honour to
accompany him to the Governor. Then, turning round on the exempt's
followers who came behind them, he said in a very different tone:
"Stay where you are. Do you suppose we require your services to
welcome the arrivals? And for you, Monsieur l'Exempt, we will rejoin
you later." Whereon he opened a small door off the staircase and led
Bertie into a room.
A room which astonished the young man as he stepped into it; for,
although he had often talked with people in Paris who had been
imprisoned in the Bastille, and had heard that some parts of it were
sumptuously furnished, he had not imagined that even the Governor
possessed such an apartment as this. It was, indeed, so large as to be
almost a hall, though the gorgeous hangings of yellow damask fringed
with silver and with lace made it look smaller, while at the same time
they imparted a brilliancy to the vastness of the room; and some
cabinets, bureaux, and couches distributed about also served to give
it a comfortable appearance. In front of a blazing fire--so great,
indeed, that the wonder was that any mortal could approach near
it--there stood, warming his hands, the Governor, De Launey himself,
while seated close by at a table covered with papers was a
miserable-looking person who was engaged in writing.
No man, possibly, ever presented a greater contrast between his own
appearance and the dreaded position which he occupied than did Jourdan
de Launey, then an old man approaching his end. He was very thin and
very bald, with beady black eyes and a rosy face which gave him the
appearance of extreme good humour, while that which rivetted the
attention of everyone who saw him for the first time was the
extraordinary shaking, or palsy, that possessed him always. Even now,
as he stood before the huge, roaring fire, holding out the palms of
his hands to it and lifting first one foot and then another to its
warmth, he shook and shivered so that he seemed as though dying of
cold.
To him the handsomely apparelled officer--whom Bertie soon learned
bore the rank of the "King's Lieutenant of his Majesty's fortress of
the Bastille"--addressed himself, saying that the Captain Elphinston
had arrived; whereon De Launey turned his back to the fire, regarded
Bertie for a moment, and then held out a long, white, shivering hand,
which the other, as he took it, thought might well have belonged to a
corpse.
"Sir," he said, in a voice of extreme sweetness, though somewhat
shaken by his tremblings, "you are very welcome, though I fear this
abode may scarcely be so to you. Yet I beg of you to believe that what
can be done to put you at your ease and make you comfortable shall be
done. Moreover, permit me to tell you that which I tell all my
visitors who are not of the lower classes, nor murderers and ruffians,
who need not to be considered, that your visit here by no means brings
with it a loss of self-respect or of social position. The Bastille is
not a prison, as the _canaille_ think; is not Bicêtre nor even
Vincennes; it is a place where gentlemen are simply detained at the
pleasure of his Majesty, and when they go forth they go unstained. If
you will remember that, Monsieur le Capitaine," he continued with
increased sweetness of voice, "you will, I think, repine less at our
hospitality."
Bertie bowed, as, indeed, he could not but do to such extreme
politeness, no matter how much he resented his incarceration, then he
said:
"Sir, I am obliged to you for your civility. Yet, monsieur, if you
would add to it by telling me with what I am charged and why I am
brought here at all, you would greatly increase my obligation."
"Monsieur le Capitaine," replied the Governor, "I regret to
refuse--but it is impossible. That you cannot know until you appear
before the Lieutenant of the Civil Government, or Examiner, who comes
here at periods to examine our visitors. Then, by the questions he
will ask, you will undoubtedly be able to surmise with what you are
charged."
"And when will he come, monsieur?"
"I know," he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders which so blended
into one of his shivers that it was almost imperceptible, "no more
than you do. He comes when it pleases him, or, perhaps, I might more
truthfully say, when he has time, and then he interrogates those whom,
also, it pleases him. Sometimes it is our latest guest"--De Launey
never by any chance used the word "prisoner"--"sometimes those who
have been here for years. And some there are who have been here for
many--but no matter!" Then, turning to the King's Lieutenant, he bade
that officer give him Captain Elphinston's _mittimus_, or the stamped
letter containing the order for his reception and security.
This letter he read carefully, during which time it shook so in his
palsied hands that Bertie could not but wonder how he could
distinguish the characters in it; after which he looked up with his
good-humoured smile and said:
"Sir, I felicitate you. You are of the first class of guests; beyond
restriction you will have little to complain of. The King"--and he
raised his tottering white hand to his forehead as though saluting
that monarch in person--"is, you know, your host; your pension will be
of the best. Secretary," he said, turning round sharply to the man at
the table, "read to the captain the bill of fare for the principal
guests."
This man, who seemed, at least, to derive no great good from his
position, seeing that he was miserably clad in an old suit of ragged
Nismes serge, a pair of old blue breeches loose at the knees, and a
wig which had scarcely any hair left on it, began to read from a
paper, when, to Bertie's astonishment, a very different voice from the
soft tones he had recently been listening to issued from the
Governor's lips; and in a harsh, commanding way De Launey exclaimed:
"Fellow, stand up before gentlemen! _Mort de ma vie!_ do you dare to
sit and read before us?" Whereon the wretched creature sprang up as
though under the lash, and began hastily to gabble out:
"_Dejeuner à lafourchette_. Potage. A quarter of a fowl or a slice of
ox beef. A pie, a sheep's tongue or a ragout, biscuits, and rennets. A
quarter septier of wine, to suffice also for dinner and supper.
Dinner: A loaf, soup, petite pâté's, roast veal or mutton, pigeon or
pullet, or beef and toasted bread. Supper: A fish of the season, or a
bird and a chipped loaf. By order of the King, to the extent of 150
sols a day."
As he read from his paper--to which the visitor paid but little
attention, since he cared nothing about the meals he might receive--De
Launey nodded and wagged his head with approbation, and, when he
finished, exclaimed:
"A noble King! Fellow," to the secretary, "begone! Go seek the
turnkey, Bluet, and bid him prepare for Monsieur le Capitaine the
second chamber of the chapel."
"The second chamber of the chapel! The best apartment!"
"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed De Launey, while he shook terribly, "do my
infirmities render me unintelligible? Ay, the second chamber; and for
you, if ever you misunderstand me again, the vault under the ditch
where the malefactors lie!" Then, putting out his long, white,
trembling hand--while all the time he smiled blandly--he nipped the
man's arm between two fingers and repeated, "Where the malefactors
lie! Where the man was eaten alive by rats! _Tu comprends, cher
ami?_ Go. The second chamber in the chapel for Monsieur le Capitaine.
_Va!_"
The man left the room quickly, casting a glance, half of terror and
half of hate, on De Launey, who, after regarding him till he was gone,
turned round to Elphinston with his pleasant smile, and said, "A vile
wretch that. Yet a useful one, and bound to me by the deepest ties of
gratitude. Sent here by the Jesuits some years ago. Ha! ha! The holy
fathers know how to obtain the lettres de cachet! for an unspeakable
crime--the corruption of a nun to Protestantism, saved his life by
telling them that he was the man who had been eaten by the rats,
though 'twas another. Thus I bound him to me for ever. He writes a
most beautiful hand, knows the history of every man in the Bastille,
and--ha! ha!--draws no recompense. The Inquisition injured my family
once--they burnt an aunt of mine in Seville--therefore I love to
thwart them."
Bertie inclined his head to show that he heard the Governor's words;
then the latter continued in his mellifluous strains:
"Now, Captain Elphinston, I must tell you that you should try and make
yourself as comfortable as possible here. Above all, do not dream of
an escape. Many have done so; few have succeeded--the Abbé du
Bacquoy alone of late years.[7] For the walls are thick--oh, so
thick!--between each room there is a space of many feet--the windows
are barred; so, too, are the fireplaces; the ceilings cannot be
reached by two men standing one on the other's shoulders. Moreover, a
visitor seen outside his window, or on the roofs or walls, could not
escape the eyes of the sentries, and would be shot--poof!--like a
sparrow. Monsieur, let me beg you, therefore, to content yourself with
our hospitality. Later on--if you are not recalled--we will perhaps
give you some companions; we wish our guests to have the enjoyment of
society. Monsieur le Capitaine, here is Bluet, who will conduct you to
your apartment. _Au revoir_. I trust sincerely you will be at your
ease."
Again the ice-cold, shivering hand clasped that of Elphinston, De
Launey bowed to him with as much grace as though he were taking part
in a minuet, and, following the turnkey, who had come in with the
secretary, the prisoner went forth to his chamber.
Descending the stairs and out by the small door in the wall, he passed
again through the Corps de Garde, all the members of which once more
instantly took off their hats and held them before their faces. Then
he was led across a great court and in at a square door painted green,
and so up three small steps on to a great staircase, at the bottom of
which were two huge iron doors that clanged with an ominous sound
behind him. At the head of this staircase were three more gates, one
after the other--wooden gates covered with iron plates--and when these
were locked behind Elphinston also, another iron-bound door was
opened, and he stood within a great vaulted room, some sixty feet long
and about fifteen in breadth, and the same in height.
"_Voilà!_" exclaimed the secretary, "behold the second room of the
chapel. _Mon Dieu!_ a fine apartment for an untitled guest! But the
old animal will have his way. Yet, why this room of princes? 'Twas
here the man with the iron mask died, they say; here that the Duke of
Luxembourg and the Marshals de Biron and Bassompiere once reposed."
"At least," said Bertie, casting his eyes round the vault--for such it
was--"I trust there was more accommodation for those illustrious
personages than there appears for me. Am I to sleep on the floor, and
lie on it also in the day? There is neither bed nor chair here."
"All in good time, brave captain," replied Bluet, the turnkey, who
even at this early period of the morning appeared to be half
drunk--"all in good time, noble captain. I shall make your room a
fitting boudoir for a duchess ere night. Have no fear."
"Now," said the secretary, "give up all you have about you."
"What!"
"All, everything," replied the other. "Oh, be under no apprehension;
we do not rob the King's guests; oh, no! Every visitor to this
delectable castle has to do the same, even though he be a prince of
the blood. I shall give you a note for what you hand me, and on your
sortie you will see all is as you handed to me. Yet the old _cochon_,
De Launey, loveth trinkets for his wife--young enough to be his
daughter; if you have a ring or a jewel, you can part with it; it will
be to your advantage."
"Friend," said Elphinston, "I am a soldier who has fought in hard
wars, sometimes without even receiving a sol of any pay--as in the
last campaign in Scotland--what should I have? See, I have no rings on
my fingers, no watch to my pocket, no solitaire to my cravat. Yet,
here is my purse with a few Louis d'ors and one gold quadruple
pistole; count those, if you will," and he pitched it into the
secretary's ragged hat as he spoke.
The man told over the coins, muttering that the large piece was _bien
forte et trébuchante_, then made an accurate note of them and gave the
list to Bertie. "All," he said again, "will be returned you on your
exit, unless you choose to give them to Bluet and me. We get little
enough, though God knows we have also little enough--at least, I
have--of opportunities for spending. Yet even here one may have his
little pleasures," and he winked at Bertie, who turned from him in
disgust.
"No trinkets on the bosom," he went on questioningly, "no lockets, nor
crosses, nor reliquaries of saints? Humph!"
"There is," replied Elphinston, "on my breast a bag of satin, in which
is a lock of hair--the hair of the woman whom I love. Fellow, do you
think I will let you take that, or even fasten your foul eyes on it!
Ask me no more; otherwise I will speak to the Governor."
"It is against the rules," said the other, "quite against the rules,
yet----"
"Curse the rules!"
"Yet," he said, "so that when you leave us you will give me one, only
one of those pieces, I will not insist."
"Leave me," said Bertie, and his voice was so stern that, followed by
the turnkey, the man slunk out of the room, and a moment afterwards
the heavy door was locked and barred on him.