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PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

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Books: The Reign Of Terror

G >> G. A. Henty >> The Reign Of Terror




Thus it happened that on the same day that the marquis started for
Paris, M. du Tillet set out from the chateau taking with him some
trunks and packages which appeared but of little value and were
not likely to attract attention, but which contained a considerable
sum of money and the famous St. Caux jewels.

Life at the chateau was dull after the departure of its heads. They
had few visitors now; the most frequent among them being Victor
de Gisons. The estates of the duke, his father, adjoined those of
the marquis, and between him and Marie a marriage had long before
been arranged by their parents. For once the inclination of the
young people agreed with the wishes of the elders, and they were
warmly attached to each other. No formal betrothal, however, had
as yet taken place, the troubles of the times having caused its
postponement, although formerly it had been understood that in the
present autumn the marriage should be celebrated.

The young count had at the assembly of the States General been
a prominent liberal, and had been one of those who had taken his
seat with the third estate and had voted for the abolition of the
special privileges of the nobility, but the violence of the Assembly
had alarmed and disgusted him, and in the winter he had left Paris
and returned to his father's estates.

Ernest and Harry studied with the abbe, and fenced and rode as usual
with M. du Tillet after his return from Holland. The ever-darkening
cloud weighed upon their spirits, and yet life at the chateau was
pleasant. The absence of their parents and the general feeling of
anxiety knit the rest of the family closer together. Much of the
ceremonial observance which had, on his first arrival, surprised
and amused Harry was now laid aside. Marie, happy in the visits
of her lover and at the prospect of her approaching marriage, did
her best to make the house cheerful. Harry, who had not much liked
her at first, now found her most pleasant and agreeable, and the
younger girls walked in the grounds with their brothers and chatted
when they were gathered in the evening just as Harry's sisters had
done at home. Jeanne was, if the group broke up, generally Harry's
companion. Ever since the affair of the mad dog she had treated
him as her special friend, adopting all his opinions and falling
in with any suggestion he might make with a readiness which caused
Ernest one day to say laughingly to Harry:

"One would think, Harry that you were Jeanne's elder brother, not
I. She listens to you with a good deal more deference than she does
to me."

The winter came and went. From time to time letters arrived from
Paris, but the news was always in the same strain. Things were going
worse and worse, the king was little more than a prisoner in the
hands of the people of Paris. The violence of the Assembly was
ever on the increase, the mob of Paris were the real masters of
the situation, the greater part of the nobility had fled, and any
who appeared in the streets were liable to insult.

The feeling in the provinces kept pace with that in Paris. Committees
were formed in every town and village and virtually superseded the
constituted authorities. Numbers of chateaux were burned, and the
peasants almost universally refused any longer to pay the dues to
their seigneurs. But at present none dreamt of personal danger.
The nobles who emigrated did so because they found the situation
intolerable, and hoped that an army would be shortly raised and
set in motion by foreign powers to put down the movement which
constituted a danger to kings, nobles, and property all over Europe.
But as yet there was nothing to foreshadow the terrible events
which were to take place, or to indicate that a movement, which
began in the just demand of an oppressed people for justice and
fair treatment, would end in that people becoming a bloodthirsty
rabble, eager to destroy all who were above them in birth, education,
or intellect.

Therefore, although the Marquis de St. Caux foresaw the possibility
of confiscation of the property and abolition of all the privileges
of the nobility, he was under no uneasiness whatever as to the
safety of his children. His instructions were precise: that if a
small party of peasants attacked the chateau, and it was evident
that a successful resistance could be made, M. du Tillet should
send word down to the mayor of Dijon and ask for help, and should,
with the servants of the chateau, defend it; if it was attacked by
a large mob, no resistance was to be offered, but he was to abandon
it at once and journey to Paris with the children. But the time
went on without disturbance. In Dijon as elsewhere a committee
had been formed and had taken into its hands the entire control of
the management of the town. At its head was the son of the mayor,
Monsieur Lebat.

"I do not understand that young fellow," M. du Tillet said one day
on his return from Dijon. "I do not like him; he is ambitious and
pushing, he is the leader of the advanced party in Dijon, and is
in communication with the most violent spirits in Paris, but I am
bound to say that he appears most anxious to be of service to the
family. Whenever I see him he assures me of his devotion to the
marquis. To-day, Mademoiselle Marie, he prayed me to assure you
that you need feel no uneasiness, for that he held the mob in his
hand, and would answer for it that no hostile movement should be
made against the chateau, and in fact I know, for I have taken the
precaution of buying the services of a man who is upon the committee,
that Lebat has actually exerted himself to benefit us.

"It has several times been urged by the most violent section that
the mob should be incited to attack the chateau, but he has each
time successfully opposed the proposition. He has declared that while
no one is more hostile than himself to the privileges of seigneury,
and while he would not only abolish the nobles as a class but
confiscate their possessions, he considers that in the case of the
marquis nothing should be done until a decree to that effect is
passed by the Assembly.

"Until that time, he argues, the people should discriminate. The
chateaux of tyrants should be everywhere levelled to the ground,
but it would be unworthy of the people to take measures of vengeance
against those who have not notably ground down those dependent upon
them, and that, as the marquis has not pushed the privilege of his
class to the utmost, his chateau and property should be respected
until the Assembly pass a decree upon the subject."

"I am sure we are much indebted to this Monsieur Lebat," Marie
said. "He was here at the hunting party and seemed a worthy young
man of his class. Of course he was out of place among us, but for
a man in his position he seemed tolerable."

"Yes," Monsieur du Tillet agreed, but in a somewhat doubtful tone
of voice. "So far as assurances go there is nothing to be desired,
and he has, as I said, so far acted loyally up to them, and
yet somehow I do not like him. It strikes me that he is playing a
game, although what that game is I cannot say. At anyrate I do
not trust him; he speaks smoothly but I think he has a double face,
and that he is cruel and treacherous."

"That is not like you, Monsieur du Tillet," Marie laughed, "you
who generally have a good word for everyone. It seems to me that
you are hard upon the young man, who appears to be animated by
excellent sentiments towards us."

Spring came again. M. du Tillet learned that the mob of Dijon were
becoming more and more violent, and that spies and watchmen had
been told off to see that none of the family attempted to fly for
the frontier. He therefore wrote to the marquis urging that it
would be better that the family should move to Paris, where they
would be in no danger. In reply he received a letter begging him
to start as soon as the roads were fit for travel.

About the same time Victor de Gisons received a summons from his
father to join him in Paris.

The messenger who brought the letter to M. du Tillet brought one
also for Marie from the marquise, saying that the heads of both
families were of opinion that the marriage must be still further
postponed, as in the present state of affairs all private plans and
interests must be put aside in view of the dangers that surrounded
the king. Marie acquiesced in the decision, and bade her lover
adieu calmly and bravely.

"They are quite right, Victor; I have felt for some time that when
France was on the verge of a precipice it was not the time for her
nobles to be marrying. Noblesse oblige. If we were two peasants
we might marry and be happy. As it is we must wait, even though we
know that waiting may never come to an end. I have a conviction,
Victor, that our days of happiness are over, and that terrible
things are about to happen."

"But nothing that can happen can separate us, Marie."

"Nothing but death, Victor," she said quietly.

"But surely, Marie, you take too gloomy a view. Death, of course,
may separate all lovers; but there seems no reason that we should
fear him now more than at other times. A few farmers-general and
others who have made themselves obnoxious to the mob have been
killed, but what is that! There should at least be no hostility
to our order. Many of the nobles have been foremost in demanding
reforms. All have cheerfully resigned their privileges. There is
no longer the slightest reason for hostility against us."

"My dear Victor," Marie said quietly, "you do not ask a wild beast
about to rend his prey, what is the reason for his actions. I hope
I may be wrong; but at least, dear, we shall see each other again
before long, and, whatever troubles may come, will share them. My
mother in her letter yesterday said that she and the marquis had
determined that we should join them in Paris; for that although the
disorders have abated somewhat they are anxious at the thought of
our being alone here, and in the present position of things they
have no hope of being able to leave the king. She says my father
is very indignant at the great emigration of the nobility that
is going on. In the first place, he holds that they are deserting
their post in the face of the enemy; and in the second place, by
their assemblage across the frontier and their intrigues at foreign
courts against France they are causing the people to look with
suspicion upon the whole class."

"You have kept your good news till the last, Marie," Victor said.
"Here have we been saying good-bye, and it seems that we are going
to meet again very shortly."

"I have been bidding farewell," Marie said, "not to you, but to
our dream of happiness. We shall meet soon, but I fear that will
never return."

"You are a veritable prophet of ill to-day, Marie," Victor said
with an attempt at gaiety. "Some day, I hope, dear, that we shall
smile together over your gloomy prognostication."

"I hope so, Victor - I pray God it may be so!"

A week later three carriages arrived from Paris to convey the
family there; and upon the following day the whole party started;
the girls, the gouvernante, the abbe, and some of the female servants
occupying the carriages, Monsieur du Tillet, the boys, and several
of the men riding beside them as an escort.

They met with no interruption on the road, and arrived in Paris
on the last day of April, 1792. Harry was glad at the change. The
doings at Paris had been the subject of conversation and thought for
nearly two years, and he had caught the excitement which pervaded
France. He was tired of the somewhat monotonous life in the country,
and had for some time been secretly longing to be at the centre
of interest, and to see for himself the stirring events, of which
little more than a feeble echo had reached them at the chateau.

The change of life was great indeed; the marquis had thrown himself
into the thick of all that was going on, and his salon was crowded
every evening with those of the nobility who still remained In
Paris. But he was regarded as by no means a man of extreme views,
and many of the leaders of the party of the Gironde with whose names
Harry was familiar were also frequent visitors - Roland, Vergniaud,
Lanjuinais, Brissot, Guader, Lebrun, and Condorcer.

Harry was struck with the variety of conversation that went on at
these meetings. Many of the young nobles laughed and chatted with
the ladies with as much gaiety as if the former state of things
were continuing undisturbed; and an equal indifference to the public
state of things was shown by many of the elders, who sat down and
devoted themselves to cards. Others gathered apart in little groups
and discussed gloomily and in low tones the events of the day;
while others who were more liberal in their views gathered round the
deputies of the Gironde and joined in their talk upon the meetings
of the Assembly and the measures which were necessary to consolidate
the work of reform, and to restore peace and happiness to France.

The marquis moved from group to group, equally at home with all,
chatting lightly with the courtiers, whispering gravely with the
elders, or discussing with the tone of the man of the world the
views and opinions of the deputies. Victor de Gisons was constantly
at the house, and strove by his cheerfulness and gaiety to dissipate
the shade of melancholy which still hung over Marie.

Towards the end of July the Marquis de St. Caux and the little
body of royalists who still remained faithful to the king became
more and more anxious; the position of the royal family was now
most precarious; most of the troops in Paris had been sent to the
frontier, and those left behind were disorganized and ready to join
the mob. Two out of the three Swiss battalions had been sent away
and but one remained at the Tuileries. Of the National Guard only
the battalion of Filles St. Thomas and part of the battalion of
the Saints Pares could be trusted to defend the king. The rest were
opposed to him, and would certainly join the populace.

On the 14th of July a large number of National Guards from the
provinces had arrived in Paris; and the battalion from Marseilles,
the most violent of all, had, immediately that it arrived in the
city, come into collision with one of the loyal battalions.

The royalists were wholly without organization, their sole aim
being to defend the king should he be in danger, and if necessary
to die by his side.

On the evening before the 10th of August the tocsin was heard to
sound and the drums to beat to arms. All day there had been sinister
rumours circulating, but the king had sent privately to his friends
that the danger was not imminent and that he had no need of them;
however, as soon as the alarm sounded the marquis snatched up a
sword and prepared to start for the palace. He embraced his wife,
who was calm but very pale, and his children. Ernest asked to be
allowed to go with him, but the marquis said:

"No, my son,, my life is the king's; but yours at present is due
to your mother and sisters."

It was twenty-four hours before he returned. His clothes were torn,
his head was bound up, and one of his arms disabled. The marquise
gave a cry of delight as he entered. No one had slept since he
left, for every hour fresh rumours of fighting had arrived, and
the sound of cannon and musketry had been heard in the early part
of the day.

"It is all over, wife!" he said. "We have done our best, but the
king will do nothing. We cannot say we have lost the battle, for
we have never tried to win it; but it would be the same thing in
the long run."

Before hearing what had passed the marquise insisted upon her husband
taking refreshment and having his wounds bound up and attended to.
When he had finished his meal the marquis began:

"We had a good deal of difficulty in getting into the Tuileries,
for the National Guard tried to prevent our passing. However, we
most of us got through; and we found that there were about a hundred
assembled, almost all men of family. The Marshal de Mailly led us
into the king's apartment.

"'Sire,' he said, 'here are your faithful nobles, eager to replace
your majesty on the throne of your ancestors.' The National Guard
in the palace withdrew at once, leaving us alone with the Swiss.

"We formed in the courtyard; and the king, with his hat in his hand,
walked down our ranks and those of the Swiss. He seemed without
fear, but he did not speak a word, and did nothing to encourage us.
Several of our party, in trying to make their way to the palace,
had been murdered, and the mob cut off their heads and put them on
pikes; and these were paraded in the streets within sight of the
windows. Roederer, the procureur-general of the department of Paris,
came to the king and pressed him to leave the Tuileries.

"'There are not five minutes to lose, sire,' he said. 'There is no
safety for your majesty but in the National Assembly.'

"The queen resisted; but upon Roederer saying that an enormous
crowd with cannon were coming, and that delay would endanger the
lives of the whole of the royal family, he went. But he thought of
us, and asked what was to become of us. Roederer said that, as we
were not in uniform, by leaving our swords behind us we could pass
through the crowd without being recognized. The king moved on,
followed by the queen, Madam Elizabeth, and the children. The crowd,
close and menacing, lined the passage, and the little procession
made their way with difficulty to the Assembly.

"We remained in the palace, and every moment the throng around
became more and more numerous. The cannon they brought were turned
against us. The first door was burst open, the Swiss did not fire,
the populace poured in and mixed with us and the soldiers. Some
one fired a gun. Whether it was one of the Swiss or one of the mob
I know not, but the fight began. The Swiss in good order marched
down the staircase, drove out the mob, seized the cannon the
Marseillais had brought, and turning them upon their assailants
opened fire. The mob fled in terror, and I believe that one battalion
would have conquered all the scum of Paris, had not the king, at
the sound of the first shot, sent word to the Swiss to cease firing.
They obeyed, and although the mob kept firing upon them from the
windows, the great part of them marched calm, and without returning
a shot, to the Assembly, where, at the order of the king, they laid
down their arms and were shut up in the church of the Feuillants.

"A portion of the Swiss had remained on guard in the Tuileries when
the main body marched away. The instant the palace was undefended
the mob burst in. Every Swiss was murdered, as well as many of
the servants of the queen. The mob sacked the palace and set it on
fire. When the Swiss left we had one by one made our way oua by a
back entrance, but most of us were recognized by the mob and were
literally cut to pieces. I rushed into a house when assaulted,
and, slamming the door behind me, made my way out by the back and
so escaped them, getting off with only these two wounds; then I
hurried to a house of a friend, whom I had seen murdered before my
eyes, but his servants did not know of it, and they allowed me to
remain there till dark, and you see here I am."

"But what has happened at the Assembly and where is the king?" the
marquise asked, after the first exclamation of horror at the tale
they had heard.

"The king and his family are prisoners in the Temple," the marquis
said. "The Commune has triumphed over the Assembly and a National
Convention is to be the supreme power. The king's functions are
suspended, but as he has not ruled for the last three years that
will make little difference. A new ministry has been formed with
Danton, Lebrun, and some of the Girondists. He and his family are
handed over to the care of the Commune, and their correspondence is
to be intercepted. A revolutionary tribunal has been constituted,
when, I suppose, the farce of trying men whose only crime is loyalty
to the king is to be carried out.

"We must be prepared, my love, to face the worst. Escape is now
impossible, and, indeed, so long as the king and queen are alive I
would not quit Paris; but we must prepare for sending the children
away if possible."



CHAPTER V The Outburst


"Monsieur le Marquis," M. du Tillet exclaimed, hurrying into the
salon, in which the marquis with his family were sitting, on the
evening of the 21st of August, "I hear that it is rumoured in the
street that all the members of noble families are to be arrested."

The room was lit up as if to receive company, but the crowd which
had thronged it a fortnight before were gone. The Girondists had
first withdrawn, then the nobles had begun to fall off, for it had
become dangerous for them to show themselves in the streets, where
they were liable to be insulted and attacked by the mob. Moreover,
any meeting of known Royalists was regarded with suspicion by the
authorities, and so gradually the gatherings had become smaller
and smaller.

The only constant visitor now was the Count de Gisons, but he
to-night was absent. The news was not unexpected. The violence of
the extremists of the Mountain had been increasing daily. At the
Cordeliers and Jacobin Clubs, Danton, Robespierre, and Marat had
thundered nightly their denunciations against the aristocrats, and
it was certain that at any moment the order for their arrest might
be given. Such bad news had been received of the state of feeling
in the provinces, that it was felt that it would be more dangerous
to send the young ones away than to retain them in Paris, and the
marquise had been a prey to the liveliest anxiety respecting her
children. It seemed impossible that there could be any animosity
against them, but the blind rage of the mob had risen to such a
height that it was impossible to say what might happen. Now that
she heard the blow was about to fall she drew her younger girls
instinctively to her, as if to protect them, but no word passed
her lips.

"It might still be possible to fly," M. du Tillet went on. "We have
all the disguises in readiness."

"A Marquis de St. Caux does not fly from the canaille of Paris,"
the marquis said quietly. "No, Du Tillet; the king and queen are
in prison, and it is not for their friends to leave their post here
in Paris because danger threatens them; come when they may, these
wretches will find us here ready for them."

"But the children, Edouard!" the marquise murmured.

"I shall stand by my father's side," Ernest said firmly.

"I do not doubt your courage, my son. I wish now that I had long
ago sent you all across the frontier; but who could have foreseen
that the people of France were about to become a horde of wild
beasts, animated by hate against all, old and young, in whose veins
ran noble blood. However, although it is the duty of your mother
and I to stay at our posts, it is our duty also to try and save
our house from destruction; therefore, Du Tillet, I commit my two
sons to your charge. Save them if you can, disguise them as you will,
and make for the frontier. Once there you know all the arrangements
we have already made."

"But, father," Ernest remonstrated.

"I can listen to no argument, Ernest," the marquis said firmly.
"In this respect my will is law. I know what your feelings are,
but you must set them aside, they must give way to the necessity
of saving one of the oldest families of France from perishing."

"And the girls?" the marquise asked, as Ernest bent his head in
sign of obedience to his father's orders.

"I cannot think," the marquis said, "that they will be included in
the order for our arrest. They must go, as arranged, in the morning
to the house of our old servant and remain quietly there awaiting
the course of events. They will pass very well as three of her
nieces who have arrived from the country. You had better send a
trusty servant to prepare her for their coming. You, Harry, will,
of course, accompany my sons.

"Pardon, marquis," Harry said quietly, "I am firmly resolved to
stay in Paris. I may be of assistance to your daughters, and there
will be no danger to me in remaining, for I have no noble blood in
my veins. Besides, my travelling with M. du Tillet would add to
his danger. He will have difficulty enough in traversing the country
with two boys; a third would add to that difficulty."

"I cannot help that," the marquis said. "I ought long ago to have
sent you home, and feel that I have acted wrongly in allowing you
to remain so long. I must insist upon your accompanying my sons."

"I am sorry to disobey you, monsieur le marquis," Harry said quietly
but firmly; "but from the moment of your arrest I shall be my own
master and can dispose of my actions. I am deeply sensible of all
your goodness to me, but I cannot yield, for I feel that I may be
of some slight use here. There are so many strangers in Paris that
there is little fear of my attracting any notice. A mouse may help
a lion, monsieur, and it may be that though but a boy I may be able
to be of service to mesdemoiselles."