CITIZEN JEAN VAUQUELAS.
In April, 1793, about eight months after his arrival in Paris, Coursegol
went one evening to the Palais Égalité. The establishment, which had
formerly been known as the Palais Royal, had at that epoch a splendor
and an importance of which its present appearance gives but a faint
conception. One should read in the journals of those days the
description of the galleries ever filled with an eager, bustling throng
attracted by the excitement and the unwholesome amusements always to be
found there. Mercier, in sharp, almost indignant language, gives us a
vivid picture of the famous resort. Gambling-dens, dance-halls, shops
devoted to the sale of the most reckless and infamous productions,
restaurants and wine-shops were to be seen on every side. The spirit of
speculation and gambling raged with inconceivable violence. Vice sat
enthroned there, and when evening came the immense establishment was
densely crowded by a throng of people thirsting for pleasure, and
circling round and round in the brilliantly-lighted galleries to the
sound of the violins that mounted to the ears of the promenaders from
the dance-halls in the basement below.
Coursegol frequently visited the Palais Égalité. At the instance of
Bridoul he had speculated a little in assignats which were constantly
fluctuating in value. It was the only negotiation in which Coursegol
would consent to embark. He might have trafficked in the estates of the
Émigres which the Republic was selling at a merely nominal price; but he
had no desire to become the owner of what he considered stolen property.
After a few evenings spent in the Palais Égalité, Coursegol became
acquainted with most of the brokers who transacted business there. They
were stout, well-fed, jovial men, whose self-satisfied and flourishing
appearance seemed a stinging irony hurled in the face of the poor
wretches who were perishing of hunger in the Faubourgs of Paris. They
could be seen rushing about the garden and through the galleries, giving
orders to their subordinates whose duty it was to find new clients, and
to allure unsophisticated provincials, that they might rob them of their
money to cast it into the gulf in which the fortunes of so many had been
swallowed up.
These unprincipled persons resorted to the basest means to dupe those
who trusted them. They called wine and reckless women to their aid, and
thus disarmed the unsuspecting men who came to the money market with the
hope of doubling their capital. In the Palais Égalité, conspiracies were
formed not only against the Republic but against the fortunes, the
place, and even the lives of its citizens. Still even the dread
Committee of Public Safety were powerless to discover the formidable
enemies that concealed themselves there. That Coursegol was not
irretrievably lost the instant he crossed the threshold of this
mysterious and dangerous cavern was due entirely to Bridoul, who had
volunteered to act as his guide and protector. Bridoul possessed a very
considerable amount of influence. He presented his comrade to some of
the fortunate speculators, and recommended him to them to such purpose
that several of them took Coursegol under their protection.
Quick-witted, endowed with remarkable energy and tact, and inspired by
an ardent desire to acquire wealth for the sake of Dolores, he rendered
them important services on more than one occasion by lending his obscure
and modest name to conceal operations in which a well-known personage
could not have embarked without peril.
Coursegol was only a peasant; but he had served in the army a long time,
and contact with others had sharpened his wits, while the excellent
judgment of his old master, the Marquis de Chamondrin, had not failed to
exert a most beneficial effect upon his intellectual development. Hence,
though it was not without hesitation that he entered upon a career so
entirely new to him, he at least brought with him not only honesty,
prudence and tact, but a coolness which could not but contribute notably
to his success in those perturbed times.
On the evening to which we have alluded he went to the Palais Égalité as
usual. It was after nightfall, and the restaurants were filled to
overflowing with crowds of excited people glad to forget in the
distractions of play, of speculation and of good cheer the woes of the
country and their own degradation. Some were eagerly buying tickets that
would entitle them to seats in the Théâtre de la République, only a
hundred paces distant; others were buying the daily papers. Some were
promenading with that careless gayety that never deserts the French even
in their darkest days, while they insolently eyed the shameless women,
who, with bold gaze and naked shoulders, stood there endeavoring to
attract the attention of the passers-by. Others rushed to the gambling
saloons, already dreaming of the stroke of good fortune that would
enlarge the rolls of assignats with which their pockets were filled.
Some promenaders approached each other with mysterious proposals, and
afterwards repaired to the garden where they could converse undisturbed.
It was there that many confidential interviews were held, it was there
that the most diverse hopes had birth; it was there that the Royalists,
the friends and the relatives of the Émigrés or of suspected persons
incarcerated in prison plotted for the return of the Bourbons or for the
deliverance of the poor wretches whose lives hung upon a thread. There,
too, the spies in the employ of the Committee of Public Safety, or of
the Commune, flitted about, trying to discover any secret that might be
hostile to the Republic. Sometimes gloomy visaged men or women with pale
and anxious looks were seen hurrying through the crowd; some man who
had been vainly seeking bread for his children; some woman whose husband
was in the Luxembourg or in the Abbaye prisons, awaiting the dread fiat
of the Revolutionary Tribunal.
These livid and despairing faces were the only blemishes upon the
exuberant gayety that prevailed; but no one saw them and the poor
wretches disappeared without exciting either anger or pity.
The eyes of Coursegol were accustomed to this spectacle, so he walked
coolly through the galleries heedless of the tumult around him and
paused only when he met a group of acquaintances who were discussing the
news of the day. Suddenly some one tapped him on the shoulder. He
turned.
"Is that you, Citizen Vauquelas?"
"I wish to speak to you, Coursegol."
At the same time the man who had just interrupted Coursegol's promenade
took him by the arm and led him toward the garden. He was clad in black
and enveloped in a large cloak that would have made him look like a
priest had it not been for the high hat, ornamented with the national
cockade, which proved him a patriot of the middle class. His thin,
emaciated face, deeply furrowed with wrinkles indicated that he had long
since passed his sixtieth birthday; but there was nothing else in his
appearance that betokened old age. His form was so erect, his eye so
clear, his step so firm, that one, not seeing his face, would have
thought him still in the prime of life.
On entering the garden, Vauquelas glanced around, but, seeing no place
which he deemed sufficiently retired, he seemed to change his plan.
"I fear that these trees have ears," said he, "and what I wish to say to
you must not be overheard."
And without saying more, he led the way to the Café Corazza. They
entered it. The saloon was filled with people, eating and drinking while
they read the papers or indulged in heated political discussions. One
man had mounted a table and was delivering a long discourse. He was
endeavoring to convince his listeners that France was being betrayed by
the secret agents sent to Paris by the Émigrés. His was no new theme;
buy the orator displayed so much energy that his audience was polite
enough to seem pleased with his efforts. Vauquelas, who appeared to be
perfectly at home, crossed the room to whisper a word in the ear of the
man who was standing at the cashier's desk. This man, who proved to be
the proprietor of the establishment, at once conducted Vauquelas to a
private room. Coursegol followed, and, the proprietor having taken his
departure, the two men found themselves alone.
"I have been contemplating the proposition I am about to make you for
several months," Vauquelas then began. "The very first time I saw you, I
made up my mind that you were the man to aid me in the projects I had
long since formed, but which had not been carried into execution for
want of an assistant in whom I could implicitly confide. But before I
trusted you with my plans, I wished to know you; so I have studied you
closely while you were unconscious of my scrutiny. I have admired the
prudence you have displayed in all your business transactions. You suit
me; and if you see fit to accede to the proposition I am about to offer
for your consideration, our fortunes are made."
"I am listening, Citizen Vauquelas," replied Coursegol, "but I may as
well tell you that it will be useless to confide your plans to me if
they are not perfectly honest."
"You shall judge," rejoined Vauquelas, not appearing in the least
wounded by Coursegol's remark. "Last month the Republic passed a decree
against the Émigrés, ordering the confiscation of their property for the
benefit of the nation. This measure has been carried into execution, and
the government is now the possessor of a large amount of such property.
These lands will be sold at public auction, and will fall into all sorts
of hands. They will be divided and parceled out, and the rightful owners
when they return to France will have no power to take possession of the
property that once belonged to them. Very well--now I have wondered if
the purchase of a portion of this property would not be both profitable
and a praiseworthy action."
"And why?" inquired Coursegol, who had been listening attentively.
"The reason is plain," replied Vauquelas. "Will it not be for the
interest of the exiled owners that their estates should be bought on the
most favorable possible terms, and properly cared for. The brigands who
are now in power will fall some day; and then the Émigrés will return.
Will they not be glad to find their property in good and careful hands,
and to be able to regain possession of it by paying the trifling sum
which the government received for it?"
Coursegol did not reply at once, he was reflecting.
"The transactions would be honest enough," he said at last; "but if you
purchase the lands of the government to-day and sell them later to their
owners at the same price you paid for them, where would your profit come
in?"
"I would pay for them in assignats; their owners would pay me in gold."
Vauquelas uttered these last words with an air of triumph; then, as if
fearing Coursegol's objections, he made haste to develop his scheme.
"The assignats have already undergone a very considerable depreciation.
With fifty thousand francs in gold one can, to-day, purchase at least
two hundred thousand francs in assignats; and the depreciation will
become much greater. There is a piece of property in the Faubourg
Saint-Germain which will be ostensibly sold for two millions by the
Republic, but which will really cost the purchaser only two hundred
thousand francs; and, by and by, the owner will have no difficulty in
disposing of it again for the ostensible price he paid for it, and it
will be only natural and right that he should demand gold in payment."
"And in what way could I be of service to you?" Coursegol timidly
inquired.
"By lending me your name. We will buy sometimes in your name, sometimes
in mine, so we shall not arouse suspicion."
"But where shall we find the money?"
Vauquelas arose and, without the slightest hesitation, replied:
"Since I have begun to give you my confidence, I will hide nothing. Come
with me."
Vauquelas, as we have said before, had arrived at the trying age of
three-score and ten, which, for the majority of men, is the age of
decrepitude, that sinister forerunner of death; but time had neither
bowed his head nor enfeebled his intellect. The clearness of his mind
and the vigor of his limbs indicated that he was likely to be one of
those centenarians who carry their years so lightly that they make us
think with regret of that golden age in which the gods could confer
immortality upon man. His eye still flashed with all the ardor of youth;
and in his breast glowed a fire which age was powerless to quench.
Vauquelas had formerly been a magistrate in Arras. A widower, without a
child for whose fate he was compelled to tremble, he had seen the
approach of the Revolution and the Reign of Terror without the slightest
dismay; and the tenth of August found him in Paris, drawn there by the
desire to increase his by no means contemptible fortune, and to win the
favor of those who were then in power.
He had taken up his abode in a modest mansion at the extremity of the
Faubourg du Roule. The house stood in the centre of a garden, which was
protected from the gaze of the curious by high walls that surrounded it
on every side. Served by an old woman whom he had brought from Arras, he
apparently lived the life of a recluse who desires to remain a stranger
to the changes and emotions of the moment, and to end his days in peace
and quietness. He received no visitors; and the people in the
neighborhood thought him a poor man who had lost his family and
squandered his money in unfortunate speculations. He never left the
house until evening and always returned very late at night. A
sans-culotte, who lived near by and whose suspicions had been aroused,
followed him one evening. He fancied him a conspirator, he saw him enter
the Palais Égalité, speak to several persons who seemed to listen to him
with extreme deference, and afterwards repair to the house of one of the
most influential members of the Committee of Public Safety, where he
remained until two o'clock in the morning, and then returned home. The
self-constituted spy concluded that he had to deal with one of the
Committee's secret agents; and he was inspired with such wholesome awe
that he decided to push his investigations no further.
In reality, Vauquelas was nothing more nor less than a man tormented by
an unappeasable thirst for wealth. He had only one passion: a passion
for gold. It was this that urged him--in spite of a fortune that would
have satisfied his modest wants ten times over--into all kinds of
financial ventures. It was this that had suggested to him the idea of
ingratiating himself with the men who were in power, and thus gain their
friendship, their influences and protection. In all the acts of the
government, in the great events that succeeded one another day after
day, he saw only an opportunity for speculation. Whether peace or war
prevailed; whether the people obeyed the Commune or Convention; whether
they worshipped the Supreme Being or the Goddess of Reason; whether the
men condemned to death were innocent or guilty mattered little to him.
These things interested him only by the effect they might produce on the
money-market. So he had allied himself in turn with the Girondists and
with the Jacobins. He had loaned money to Mirabeau; he had speculated
with Barras and with Tallien, always placing himself at the service of
those who held the power or seemed likely to hold it in the future.
Such was the man whose confidence Coursegol had won by his honesty and
sagacity. He appeared in the pathway of Vauquelas just as the latter had
arrived at the conclusion that further speculation in assignats would be
extremely hazardous, and just as he was looking about him for some
reliable man who would join him in enterprises of a different and much
safer nature. In those perilous times it was hard to find a person in
whom one could implicitly confide. Denunciation, that fatal weapon that
lay within the reach of every hand, was frequently made the instrument
of personal vengeance. No one was beyond its reach; and Vauquelas was
not disposed to reveal his plans to a man who would be likely to betray
them or him.
It was about eight o'clock when the two men left the Café and the
Palais Égalité, and entered one of the cabriolets that stood before the
theatre, a few steps below.
In about twenty minutes, the carriage stopped not far from the
Folies-Bergères. When the driver had been paid and dismissed, Vauquelas
and Coursegol traversed the unoccupied ground that lay between the Rue
du Roule and the Champs-Élysées. The place was dark and deserted. A few
houses, surrounded by gardens, skirted the street. Superb residences
have since been erected there and Boulevards have been opened; but at
the time of which we write this Faubourg resembled a street in a quiet
country village. It was here that Vauquelas lived. As the two men were
approaching the house by a path shaded with lindens, pruned into the
same uniformity as those at Versailles, an enormous dog sprang out upon
them, barking ferociously. With a word, Vauquelas quieted him; then,
turning to Coursegol, he said, smiling:
"This is the guardian of my dwelling. If need be, he can hold a band of
robbers at bay."
They reached the house and were admitted by the old servant, who
conducted them to the drawing-room.
"Give me a lantern and then go to bed, my good woman," said Vauquelas.
She disappeared, but soon returned, bearing in one hand a double
candlestick which she placed upon a table, and in the other the lantern
for which her master had called.
"Follow me," said Coursegol's host.
Coursegol obeyed. They left the drawing-room, passed through several
small and shabbily furnished apartments, and at last entered a small
passage. Vauquelas opened a door and Coursegol saw a narrow stairway
winding down into the cellar.
"This is my wine-cellar and it is well stocked," said Vauquelas, with a
smile.
He spoke only the simple truth. Countless casks ranged along the wall
and long shelves filled with dusty bottles attracted Coursegol's
attention; but he could scarcely understand why Vauquelas had brought
him there if he had nothing else to show him. Suddenly the latter
exclaimed:
"You asked me just now if I had money enough for the enterprise I
proposed to you. You shall judge for yourself, for I am going to reveal
my secret."
As he spoke he seized a spade that stood near by, removed a few shovels
full of earth and disclosed a large white stone slab, in the centre of
which was an iron ring which enabled him to lift it.
"Look!" said he.
Coursegol bent over the opening and looked in. He saw a large iron box
buried in the earth and filled with sacks of gold. The bright metal
gleamed through the meshes of the coarse bags, dazzling the eye of the
beholder with its golden glory. Vauquelas seemed to enjoy Coursegol's
surprise; but it was in vain that he tried to discover the slightest
vestige of envy or avarice in the face of his visitor. Coursegol was
astonished, and perhaps dazzled by the sight of so much wealth, but no
evil thought entered his mind. Vauquelas breathed more freely. He had
just subjected the man upon whom he had bestowed his confidence to a
decisive test, and he had emerged from it victorious.
"There are two millions here," he remarked.
"Two millions! Do they belong to you?"
"They belong to me."
"And you are not satisfied! You wish to acquire more!"
"Oh! it is a question of health to me. If I stopped work I should soon
die; and I wish to live--life is good!"
There was a moment's silence, and Vauquelas looked tenderly at his
treasure.
"Moreover, as I have told you, we shall not only make money, but perform
a most commendable action," he remarked after a little. "We will
purchase some of those fine houses on the Faubourg Saint-Germain, which
have been confiscated by the government in their masters' absence. We
will take good care of them. In some hands, they would soon fall to
ruin; but in ours they will increase in value, and when their former
owners return, they will find their homes in the same condition as when
they left them. They will buy them from us, and they will be ever
grateful to us. Come, my boy, make up your mind. Will you become my
partner in this enterprise?"
"I accept your offer," replied Coursegol. He saw his fortune assured in
a few years, and Dolores forever out of the reach of want.
"Do you know how to write?" Vauquelas inquired.
"Not very well."
"That is bad. We must keep an account of our business operations; it
will not do to take any one else into our confidence, and I cannot do
the work myself. My eyesight is not very good."
"I will do my best," replied Coursegol, mentally cursing his ignorance.
Suddenly another plan flashed through his brain.
"Ah! now I have it," he exclaimed, eagerly. "This work that you cannot
do and that I should do so badly can be entrusted to my daughter."
"Your daughter! You have a daughter! You have never told me that you
were a married man."
Coursegol was silent for a moment; he seemed to hesitate.
"I will return confidence for confidence," he said finally.
Then he related the history of Dolores, and his own. When it was ended,
Vauquelas rubbed his hands joyfully.
"She will not betray us," said he. "Ah well! Everything is for the
best."
He covered the box in which his gold was concealed with earth, and then
the two men returned to the drawing-room. They remained in earnest
conversation for some time, Vauquelas disclosing his plans for the
future, the other listening and proffering occasional but judicious
suggestions. It was after midnight when they separated.
Coursegol walked home. Twice he was stopped by the patrols, but, thanks
to the credentials he carried with him, he was allowed to pursue his
way unmolested. A week later, Dolores and Coursegol left Bridoul's house
to take up their abode in that of Vauquelas. The parting was a sad one.
Cornelia Bridoul loved Dolores as fondly as the latter loved her; still
they would have frequent opportunities to see each other, and this
thought greatly alleviated their sorrow.