I RESUME MY ORIGINAL PROFESSION.
It was nine o’clock in the evening. I went to look after my horse,
which I had left in a house by the barrier. They gave it back to me
as promised, and I retook it to the stables, always using the name
of M. Drouet. I took a receipt for it, and at ten o’clock I entered
the Rue St. Honoré.
I found all the family at table, as, on account of the day’s
excitement, the supper, which usually was partaken of at eight
o’clock, to-night was delayed till ten.
They raised a cry of joy when they saw me. Maître Duplay, who had
been with the National Guard of the Quartier St. Honoré, fancied
that he saw me at the door of the royal carriage, by the side of the
grenadiers; but the thing appeared so improbable, that he had told it
to his family more as a delusion than a fact.
Scarcely was I recognised, than the two girls immediately made a
space for me between them.
This was the more easy, as the elder apprentice was absent, leaving
only the one enamoured of Mdlle. Cornelie, Félicién Herda.
I did not want much pressing to sit down; I was literally dying of
hunger and thirst. The young girls wished to ask me questions; but M.
Duplay excused me until I had both eaten and drank.
In a few minutes, I rejoined the supper eaters, and set myself to
gratify the public curiosity.
It was necessary for me to recount everything, omitting no details,
from the moment when M. Drouet appeared to the King as a vision, on
the top of the Hill des Réligieuses, to the moment when the carriage
started from the house of the grocer, Sauce, and, lastly, to their
arrival at the gate of the Tuileries.
It can be easily understood with what avidity my tale was devoured,
especially by the women. At that period, the women took a great
interest in the Revolution: Madame Duplay, Mdlle. Cornelie, and
Mdlle. Estelle made me repeat the same details over and over again;
and, though they had a sigh for Madame Elizabeth, the Queen was ever
an Austrian—that is to say, an enemy.
It was now eleven o’clock. Duplay, bursting with the news which I
brought him, resolved to go to the Jacobin Club. There was no doubt
but that, in consequence of the great events taking place, the club
would, despite the late hour, be holding a sitting.
He asked me if I would like to accompany him; but, indefatigable
though I was, I asked his permission to retire to repose.
They gave me Dumont’s chamber, which was vacant, on account of its
owner having left the shop some eight days previously. The ladies
undertook to arrange the bed draperies, and perform all the little
offices which come so gratefully from a woman’s tender hand and kind
heart. Félicién commenced by scowling at me; but when he perceived
that upon Estelle, by tacit consent, fell the greater share of the
labor on my account, his brow gradually relaxed.
Duplay set out for his club. They then informed me that my chamber
was ready. It was the first time for four nights that I had slept
in a bed, so you may imagine that I stood upon no ceremony. I made
a hurried bow to all, rushed up to my room; and, on arriving there,
blessed Madame Duplay for the quantity of water and towels that she
had left me—as it required plenty of both to rid me of that accursed
dust of Champagne, with which I seemed to be perfectly coated.
I jumped into bed, and, in a second, fell into the most profound
sleep.
On the next morning, I was awakened by M. Duplay, after a most
persistent shaking, which, in my sleep, I attributed to other causes.
“Ah!” said he; “when you sleep you do sleep, and no mistake, you
drowsy provincials.”
“Bah!” said I. “It is you, then, who have been trying to awaken, me?”
“Yes; and who tried last night, but could not succeed.”
“What did you wish of me?”
“Citizen Réné Besson, I fancied that you would excuse the breach of
hospitality, when you knew that I had something most important to
tell you.”
“Well, I am all attention, M. Duplay.”
“Call me Citizen,” said Duplay, pluming himself.
“Well, I listen to you, citizen.”
“As you know, I went to the club last night.”
“Yes.”
“There I met M. Chanderlos de Laclos.”
“Citizen Laclos, you mean, I suppose?”
“I stand corrected. All men are now equal. Well, I met Citizen
Laclos, and told him all that you had related to me concerning the
journey of the King to Paris. Do you know what he asked me? He asked
me to take you to the Palais Royal, in order that you may give your
version of the affair to the Duc d’Orleans.”
“I?”
“Yes, thou! In the meantime, you had better dress yourself.”
“Do I go this morning, then?”
“Between nine and ten o’clock.”
“What time is it now?”
“Half-past eight.”
“You know, I suppose, that my only costume is that of a National
Guard?”
“It is the costume of patriots.”
“But still, when one goes near princes! Does my coat want brushing?”
“Leave that to Catherine. You occupy yourself with putting on a clean
shirt, if you have any. I will see that your clothes and boots are
brushed. If you have not any clean linen, I can lend you some.”
“Thank you; I have all that I require in my bag.”
“Dress, then; don’t waste time.”
And Maître Duplay, Republican though he was, enchanted to conduct me
before a prince, took my coat, hat, trousers and boots, down stairs
for Catherine to brush.
At nine o’clock exactly, I was ready.
We went along the Rue St. Honoré to the Rue de Valois, and,
arm-in-arm, entered the Palais Royal by the gate which opens into
that street.
Maître Duplay gave his name. _Citizen_ Laclos had, no doubt, given
previous orders, for we were immediately admitted.
Arrived at the first floor, no sooner had Duplay given his name, than
they sent at once for M. Chanderlos de Laclos.
M. Chanderlos de Laclos rushed up.
“Is this the young fellow?” asked he.
“Himself,” replied M. Duplay.
“Let him come into the presence of his Highness.”
He conducted me along a straight corridor into a boudoir, which led
into a bed-room, the open door of which allowed me to see that the
bed was unmade. The open windows, with the closed jalousies, gave
access to a most refreshing breeze.
His Royal Highness, clothed in a dressing-gown, made of cashmere,
with a cap to match, was sipping tea—a new fashion imported
from England; every one knows that his Highness was thoroughly
English—with a charming dame of twenty-nine or thirty years of age,
clothed in an elegant morning dress, and who was, as I afterward
learnt, Madame Buffon.
M. le Duc d’Orleans, afterwards so celebrated under the name of
Philip Egalité, was a man of from forty-four to forty-five years of
age; a fat, full figure, red complexion, with a good carriage, but
the head a little too large—who, on account of a quarrel with the
Queen, had been cruelly and unjustly treated by the court of inquiry
into the naval engagement at Ouessant, where he had comported himself
most bravely.
The result of this, on his side, was a most bitter hatred of the
Queen.
He received me with a nod of the head; Madame de Buffon regarded me
with curiosity. I was far from being elegant, but I possessed great
propriety of manner. Without being handsome, I was at an age when
youth supplies the want of beauty. I was tall, well-made, with an
open expression of countenance, and a well-knit frame. The loyalty of
my heart beamed upon my face. In short, I made the same impression
upon the Duc d’Orleans and Madame de Buffon as I had upon the King,
the Queen, and Madame Elizabeth—that of being a well-looking lad.
“You come from Varennes, my friend?” said the Duke.
“Yes, monseigneur,” replied I.
“And you saw all that passed at the grocer’s—what do you call him?”
“Sauce, monseigneur.”
“So it is. And you also saw what took place on the road?”
“Monseigneur, I have not lost sight of the royal family since their
arrest.”
“Aha! There is a lady, a thorough Royalist. She wishes to know all
that has happened to her good King and dear Queen. Will you be kind
enough to give her a history of it?”
I commenced the account. When I mentioned Drouet, the Duke
interrupted me to ask particulars about him. When I mentioned M.
Dampierre, he made another interruption. He made another when I
mentioned Barnave, Pétion, and Latour-Maubourg; in fact, he wished to
know even the minutest particulars.
Before I had finished, “Go and find Chartres,” he said to M. de
Laclos.
M. de Laclos went out; I continued my recital.
It was nearly brought to an end, when the door opened, and gave
entrance to a handsome young man, whom I had already seen at the
Jacobin Club on the occasion of my first visit to Paris.
The young Prince bowed respectfully to his father, gallantly kissed
Madame Buffon’s hand, threw a scrutinizing glance on me, and seemed
to bend his whole attention on what was passing.
“I regret not having summoned you before, Chartres,” said the Duke.
“Here is a young man who came to tell us an extremely interesting
history of the journey from Varennes. He knew M. Drouet well—knew
also the unhappy Comte de Dampierre. He has seen the commissioners
sent by the National Assembly. He has seen all, in fact; and all he
has seen, he has retained; and I am sure you would have felt great
pleasure in listening to his recital.”
“But,” said the Duc de Chartres, “perhaps this young gentleman will
have the kindness——” Then, stopping, and looking at his father,
“Better still,” continued he; “just as M. Laclos told me that you
wished to see me, I was going to breakfast.”
The Duc d’Orleans appeared to understand, and nodded his head
imperceptibly. M. le Duc de Chartres did the same, pointing to me.
“Will you do me the favor to breakfast with me?—and, during the meal,
you can relate the whole affair.”
I addressed myself to M. Laclos.
“’Tis for me,” said I to him, “to thank his Highness for the great
honor which he has conferred upon me; but it is for you to explain
to him that I have left in the entrance-hall some one who awaits me;
but that will not prevent me from giving Monseigneur,” continued I,
turning to Duc d’Orleans, “the recital which I have just given you.”
“But,” said the Duc de Chartres, smiling, “it will prevent you from
accepting my breakfast.”
“Monseigneur,” said I, “I am apprenticed to M. Duplay, your
carpenter. It was he who had the goodness to tell M. Laclos that
I should have the honor of being received this morning by the
Prince, your father. It would be but a bad return, I think, for his
kindness were I to leave him waiting in the ante-chamber—he who is my
master,—whilst I had the honor of breakfasting with you. Excuse me,”
said I, laughing. “I am a savage from the forest of Argonne; but, in
all cases, I know Monseigneur to be sufficiently just and good to
make him my judge in this case, and I promise faithfully to comply
with his decree.”
“But, sir,” said Madame de Buffon, “do you know that, for a
savage——From what forest said you?”
“The Forest of Argonne.”
“You express yourself well. One would think that all your life you
had been talking to princes.”
“I have not all my life spoken to princes, but princes have often
done me the honor to speak to me.”
“Truly! Who were they?”
“M. le Prince de Condé and M. le Duc d’Enghien. They used to hunt in
the Forest of Argonne, and M. d’Enghien was in the habit of taking me
with him.”
“Well, nothing can astonish me, after this!” cried Madame de Buffon.
“Did you see my cousin just before his departure?” asked the Duc de
Chartres.
“I am probably the last Frenchman to whom he paid the honor of
shaking his hand.”
“Well, then, you must accept my offer, and breakfast with me.”
“That is my affair,” said the Duc. “Dear lady, methinks I heard you
say that you have some carpentry work to be done in your apartments.
I, for my part, have several orders to give Duplay. Let him be
brought up, M. Laclos: we will give him our commands ourselves. Let
him pass through the _salle-à-manger_, and there he can drink a
health to the nation, in a glass of wine, with these young gentlemen.”
Thus was the affair arranged.
I told the Duc de Chartres, while breakfasting with him, all that
related to our hunting expeditions in the Forest of Argonne, to my
education, the death of Pére Descharmes, my sojourn at Varennes, the
arrest of the King, and the return to Paris.
“You are only half-armed, my dear M. Réné,” said the Duc de Chartres,
when leaving me. “My cousin of Enghien gave you a gun: allow me to
present you with a pair of pistols.”
He then took down a pair from a trophy—they were of Versailles
manufacture—and insisted on my accepting them, as they matched my gun
in pattern.
When I say insisted, perhaps I exaggerated a little, as nothing could
give me greater pleasure than to accept his present.
As for Duplay, he received an order of the value of 5,000 francs, and
drank with the Duc de Chartres to the health of the nation, so that
he returned home in the best of spirits, rejoiced to have combined,
in his morning’s visit, pleasure and profit.