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Latest Date stamped below.
University of JUinoisJUbrary
L161 — H41
THE
TUILERIES.
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BY TH1
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: < HUNGARIAN TALES," "ROMANCES OF REAL LIFE,"
&c. &c.
There shalt thou find one heinous article —
Containing the deposing of a king,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath —
Marked with a blot damned in the book of Heaven
Shakspeare.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
MDCCCXXXI.
d
no
THE TUILERIES
CHAPTER I.
^
It is the cause — it is the cause, ray soul !
Othello.
The time-piece on the elegant toilet of the
Marchioness de St. Florentin already pointed to
the hour of five, on the 22nd of June, 1791 5 —
the morning succeeding the eventful night se-
lected by the unfortunate Louis XVI. for his
flight from the Tuileries; — and its graceful
owner had just resigned herself to the hands of
her adroit attendant, Mademoiselle Flavie, who
was hastily removing the diamonds from her
neck, and the flowers from her hair, when a low
tap at the door of the boudoir suspended her
employment. _ $ _ f% ,,
vol. i. OoJluU B
9, THE TUILERIES.
The Marchioness trembled as she desired
her attendant to see who waited without. Well
might she tremble, — well might her faltering
voice refuse to express the calm quietude of
mind she was anxious to assume ! On that
momentous hour depended the uncertain tissue
of her future fate ; it might prove her last of
happiness; nay, even the very latest of her
earthly existence ! Her husband — the husband
of her free choice, in those days of general
disregard to all but interested claims in the
marriage vow, — the husband of her faithful
affection, at a period, and in a rank of society,
where domestic virtues were rare indeed, — was
at that very moment sharing the critical for-
tunes of his sovereign, and braving those im-
minent perils of popular animosity, in the rash
origination of which he was wholly innocent.
The Marquis de St. Florentin, holding no ap-
pointment in the royal household, and unin-
volved in the odium of a record in the Livre
Rouge, could not have been affected, even by a
punctilious point of honour, by the dangers of
the Court, had not a powerful sentiment of per-
sonal affection for the House of Bourbon mo-
THE TUILERIES. 3
tived his determination to hazard a voluntary
sacrifice in the cause of his sovereign. He had
never, it is true, been distinguished by the fa-
vour of Louis, while that favour retained its
regal value in the eyes of his subjects; he had
received no public distinctions, for he had
courted none : the past commemorated no espe-
cial claim upon his gratitude ; and the future,
— alas ! for his king and for his country ! — the
future afforded not the most remote allurement
to the schemings of interest or ambition. It
was solely, therefore, under the influence of a
chivalrous loyalty that St. Florentin resolved
to assist in the escape of the royal family;
leaving a beloved wife and two helpless children
to the mercy of those, who might possibly ren-
der them atoning victims to the success of his
enterprize ; and who would surely wreak upon
himself, in case of the failure of his under-
taking, the hatred and malice they so veno-
mously cherished against every branch and
every adherent of the royal family of France.
" Would it not be more merciful," whispered
Madame de St. Florentin to her husband, when
he tore himself from her arms on the morning
b 2
4 THE TUILERIES.
of the preceding day — " would it not be more
generous to let me share your danger? — A
dreadful presentiment overpowers my mind !"
She faltered, and shudderingly averted her
head from the shoulder of the Marquis. " If
we part this day, St. Florentin, it will be to
meet no more. Danger and wickedness have
come among us with imperceptible strides ; un-
suspicious of the ambuscade, unmindful of
their advance, we have been surprised and dis-
armed. Many, many will be the victims ! — the
first in rank, the first in loyalty, will pay the
earliest forfeiture for their perilous distinction ;
and if it must be so — if the shadow of fate has
already fallen over our heads, let us dare the
darkness together. Dearest St. Florentin ! take
us with you ! — your post, your danger shall be
ours — do not let us part to-day !"
" Silence, my dear Emiline; — forbearance,
my poor trembling girl ! — if not for mine, for
your own sake, dismiss these horrors from your
thoughts. It is unworthy of you to enfeeble
my mind on the eve of an important enter-
prize, by importunate appeals to my tenderness.
A peremptory duty summons me from your
THE TUILERIES.
side ; a duty equally peremptory requires your
submission to the decree. Look at these inno-
cent creatures !" he continued, leading her to-
wards the bed where her little daughters lay
clasped within each other's arms — " look at
them, and tell me whether you dare desert
them."
" You, St. Florentin, feel no scruple in quit-
ting them."
" I am a man ; my duties are of a sterner and
more uncompromising nature than your own ;
they lie in action, in unfailing energy — yours, in
patient acquiescence. Be assured, too, that we
part but for a brief, brief trial — all our measures
are assured, our line of co-operation accurately
determined. In less than three days my pre-
cious trust will be honourably fulfilled ; and,
in five, you will rejoin me on the Rhine, with
these treasures of our common love. Yes ! in
five short days, Emiline, we shall meet again,
in the midst of security and peace. Heaven
knows we have acquired a just estimation of
their value !"
" Oh, that our lesson were but happily ended !
The severest of my trials is yet to come : w e
6 THE TU1LERIES.
are about to part for the first time, St. Floren-
tin ; or it may be — merciful Providence ! that I
should say so ! — it may be for the last !"
"Is this your fortitude, Emiline, — is this
your promised heroism ? Remember, I im-
plore you, how much depends on your dis-
cretion — how much on your self-support; nor
banish one moment from your mind, that
the slightest suspicion thrown at this crisis
upon our movements, might prove fatal to your
sovereign, and to one whom you value — shame
that you are to the name of Navelles — far, far
beyond ; — your husband, Emiline, who fondly
thanks you for the unheroic partiality. Be-
ware then, dearest, beware! — remember how
many malevolent eyes are fixed upon your con-
duct, and let your resolution "
" My resolution F exclaimed Madame de St.
Florentin, rising from her knees, on which she
knelt beside the little couch of her chil-
dren ; u my resolution ! — you shall no longer
doubt me— no longer deride its energy ; see,
see what it can effect !" And she flung back
her entangled hair from the pale face it over-
shadowed, and turned wildly towards him, with
THE TUILERIES. 7
the assumed smile and affected submission of a
maniac. "Are you satisfied, St. Florentin? am
I not sufficiently cheerful — sufficiently self-
possessed ?"
He turned away, shocked and disconcerted ;
and implored her to refrain from such terrible
demonstrations.
" Still discontented ?" she exclaimed, " nay,
then, take this last kiss and begone, for my heart
is breaking." And she pressed her cold lips to
her husband's forehead, and again implored him
to leave her to her sorrow.
" One word more, dear Emiline !" said the
Marquis earnestly, taking her hand, and lay-
ing it with his own upon the heads of his sleep-
ing children : " promise me, that whatever may
chance to yourself or me, these children shall
still remain your first, your dearest object ;
that you will cherish those who love them, and
cleave to those who can protect their helpless
innocence !"
" Is this a necessary appeal — has my con-
duct "
" Scorn it not, my beloved ! there are other
claims which may hereafter weigh heavily
8 THE TUILER1ES.
against their welfare ; the enthusiastic devotion
of wedded love ; the unyielding pride of a
loyal name; and after these? — shrink not, my
Emiline, at the word — after these, the memory
of your husband ! But when these, or other
powerful interests shall arise to mislead your
heart, remember, that to the mother of two
helpless girls, self-preservation is a duty of
primal moment. Remember this when the
prejudices of your youth inflame your resist-
ance to the spirit of the times. A Christian
woman and a mother may blamelessly resign
her worldly pride, in such a cause ; and when
I shall be no more "
St. Florentin could not complete his exhorta-
tion, for at that moment the femme de chambre
of the Marchioness burst into the room ; ad-
j Listing the drapery of a mantle which hung
upon her arm, and gaily singing the refrain of
a popular vaudeville —
" A la cour
Tout prend son tour,
Biribi,
A lafa^on de Barbari,
Mon ami !"
THE TUILERJES. 9
The Marquis de St. Florentin, who had long
entertained suspicions of the fidelity of Made-
moiselle Flavie, threw a hasty but significant
glance towards his wife, which warned her to
busy herself in adjusting the. pillow of her
daughters, in order to conceal the traces of
agitation and despair visible upon her counte-
nance. Then turning towards the soabrette,
he demanded, in a tone of jocularity very un-
familiar to his lips, the cause of her abrupt
appearance.
" Mademoiselle Bertin had sent a basket of
the most enchanting chiffons for Madame's in-
spection ; — was she at leisure to look over the
contents P 11
" Certainly — certainly," replied the Mar-
quis, perceiving that his wife was totally inca-
pable of framing a reply. " The moment is
propitious, — since my presence, my excellent
taste, and my munificence may greatly expedite
the selection of Madame la Marquise. Let the
damsel appear. 11
The elegant little grisette, who officiated on
this occasion as ambassadress from " la reine
des modes" now glided into the chamber to de-
b5
10 THE TUILERIES.
posit her important charge ; and gracefully
throwing aside her shawl, proceeded to ex-
hibit its contents to the disregardful eyes of Ma-
dame de St. Florentin, and to eulogize various
fanciful articles of fashionable millinery, which
she successively displayed upon her own far
from unattractive person.
At length, affecting to approach the Mar-
chioness for the exhibition of her goods, she
whispered, " Bid your maid quit the room. 1 '
" Impossible !" replied the Marchioness, in
the same scarcely audible tone ; for she was
not only fully conscious of Mademoiselle
Flavie's suspicious jealousy of temper, but had
reason to believe that she had been success-
fully tampered with by the revolutionary fac-
tion ; who scrupled not to avail themselves of
such unworthy instruments, in order to acquaint
themselves as accurately as possible with the pro-
jected plans of the adherents of the court. Yet
such was the temper of the times, that she had not
dared indulge her indignation on the discovery,
or dismiss from her service a person who had
the will and the power to become a dangerous
enemy ; for the immediate connexions and
THE TUILEltlES. 11
friends of Mademoiselle Flavie were forward
in the ranks of the organized agitators of the
public mind ; and it would have been madness
to attract their evil will at so desperate a crisis.
St. Florentin readily conjecturing that Ma-
demoiselle Bertin, — who was known to be zea-
lously devoted to Marie Antoinette, and who
had been admitted, during the recent embar-
rassment of her affairs, somewhat too freely
into the royal confidence, — might have entrusted
some important intelligence to the transmission
of her Jille de magazin — a person not likely
to fall under suspicion as the bearer of political
communications — now affected to approach with
an air of gallantry ; inspecting her fragile stores
of finery, and awkwardly adjusting them to his
own person. With much adroitness she seized
and forwarded his intention, and began with
arch coquetry to criticise and correct the errors
of his choice; while Emiline turned despair-
ingly away towards the children, sick of the
scene of excellent dissembling she was required
to play.
" Mais Ji I done, Monsieur le Marquis,"
exclaimed the better practised modiste, " I be-
12 THE TUILERIES.
lieve you are trying to disgust Madame with
this beautiful robe.' 1 Then stooping to dis-
entangle the flounce, she whispered, " Be at
the barrier, without fail, at ten o'clock. — Bay-
ard." — It was the password, and the appointment
of the Queen !
The intelligent soubrette perceiving that her
mission was accomplished, and her mystery per-
fectly understood, playfully resumed the jargon
of her calling ; while the Marquis, affecting to
grow indignant at his wife's indecision of choice,
allowed himself to be persuaded into the pur-
chase of a velvet hat — "en sour is gris — couleur
des phis distinguees F — which the Iris of the
queen of fashion carefully deposited in the ad-
miring guardianship of Mademoiselle Flavie.
Then turning towards the pale and heart-
stricken Emiline, he kissed her hand, and in a
tone of assumed levity, recommended his gift
to her notice. Not daring to trust himself to a
more explicit farewell, he bent one parting gaze
upon the face of the wife he loved, and turning
abruptly away, quitted her and his home — per-
haps for ever !
But in that single parting look, he attempted
THE TUILERIES. 13
to convey to his beloved Emiline, his grateful
sense of the fortitude with which she had suc-
ceeded in masking the agonized struggle of her
bosom. Although she spoke not, nor moved to
complete the adieu which she painfully mis-
doubted might prove eternal, he had observed
with satisfaction a smile on her cheek, and a
fixed serenity on her brow. Had he been a
nearer or more dispassionate observer, he might
have also seen that the blood oozed from be-
tween her compressed lips ; had he touched her
hand with a less tremulous emotion, he would
have perceived that it was cold and death-like
as the marble upon which she was leaning. " I
will not say farewell," were the last words of
St. Florentin, as he gently closed the door. —
How often, how painfully did they recur to
the memory of his wife ! —
14 THK TUTLERIES.
CHAPTER II.
To beguile the time, look like the time.
Macbeth.
During the whole of that critical afternoon,
the heroic fortitude of the Marchioness de St.
Florentin enabled her to continue her ordinary
routine of arduous amusement, and busy idle-
ness. She stept into her carriage at the ap-
pointed hour ; paid three formal visits to per-
sons unconnected with the objects which exclu-
sively occupied her mind ; and sedulously ex-
hibited herself and her equipage at the door of
a noted magazin de nouveautes. She neglected,
in short, nothing which could counteract the
suspicion that she was concerned in the move-
ments of the court, or peculiarly interested in
any event of the passing day.
THE TUILERIES. 15
At that epoch of terror and mistrust, when,
as a member of the revolutionary tribunal has
since recorded, " the system of domestic es-
pionage was as troublesome as a perpetual swarm
of insects ; when every householder mistrusted
his own servants — when friends, children, and
parents, renounced their mutual confidence ;"*
when all the holiest bonds of society were giving
way under the influence of revolutionary license,
the agitated wife, in the terrors of her alarm
for the object of her affection, ventured not to
seek consolation or confide her feelings, even to
those most intimately connected with the roy-
alist party.
One person alone was admitted to the pain-
ful distinction of partaking her anxieties. An
old steward, who had been attached through-
out his prolonged life to the house of St. Flo-
rentin, and whose fortunes were bound up in its
prosperity, was destined from the first framing
of the project to share the emigration of a
family in whose happiness and welfare his own
were thus deeply involved. He it was who had
secretly effected every necessary preparation for
* Vilate, Causes secretes de la revolution.
16
THE TUILERIES.
their journey to the frontier; who had procured
the passport, and provided the funds for their
undertaking. The good old man, after ineffec-
tually attempting to tranquillize by his san-
guine predictions of success, the agitation of
his lovely mistress, — whose tears now fell unre-
strainedly in his presence, — promised to devote a
vigilant ear to the rumours of the day; and
engaged, that should the slightest intimation
transpire of the desperate enterprize in which
St. Florentin was engaged, he would seek her
at the Hotel Nivernois ; where, by pre-arrange-
ment, she was to attend a ball, likely to be pro-
longed to an early hour of the following morn-
ing. And thus, in the bitter struggle of her
agony, she was obliged to assume the frivolous
array and hollow semblance of mirth ; and to
veil in affected levity the anxieties, public and
domestic, which assailed her mind !
The fete of the evening passed off with the
usual affectation of gaiety, and splendour of ap-
pointment, distinguishing such entertainments.
It was nearly the last of those gorgeous orgies,
by which the nobility of France attracted the
fatal envy of a class which they still peremp-
THE TU1LERIES. 17
torily excluded from their society. In England,
a thousand honourable avenues conduct to pub-
lic distinction, and to the social favour of private
life by which it is usually accompanied. Pro-
fessional and literary success — great talents —
great merit — or great riches, may elevate a
man to the highest pinnacle of courtly or po-
pular favour ; and there is no one so humble,
nor so humiliated, but that his ambition may
suggest a hope of admittance, or re-admittance,
into the highest society of the realm. But
during the fatal predominance of the ancien re-
gime of France, rank alone, — ancient, hereditary
rank, — was the pass-key into the Parisian saloons;
and if occasionally a fermier general, or some
other successful speculator or peculator, was
admitted into their brilliant coteries, to exhibit
his elaborate embroideries, or the unrivalled
diamonds of his wife, he was compelled to pay
a severe penalty for the intrusion, in the en-
durance of a thousand petty insults ; or by the
sacrifice of other thousands, more tangible and
less easily overlooked. The very exclusiveness
and vain-glorious pride which rendered the tone
of the Faubourg St. Germain a fatal weapon,
18 THE TUILERIES.
destined to return even into the inmost bosoms
of those by whom it was unsheathed, impart-
ed also a character of dulness and monotony to
its festivities; and it was in the inferior, or
mixed circles, where an alloy of the purchased
pleasures of financial wealth and the enliven-
ing sallies of unpurchaseable wit was admitted,
that the brilliant lustre of Parisian grace and
gaiety shone with their most dazzling effect.
The Hotel Nivernois, however, was among
those which retained the purity of aristocratic
dulness; deigning to welcome within its lofty
gates only those honoured guests, whose ances-
tors had been its accepted inmates from century
to century. A Nivernois of the time of Henri
Quatre, nay, even of the courtly reign of Fran-
cois Premier, might have made his re-entrance
upon its familiar stage, "clad in complete steel,"
nor found among the revellers of the night a
single name requiring the interpretation of he-
raldry. The laurels of the field or of the ca-
binet had interposed no vile plebeian physiog-
nomy betwixt the wind and his nobility ; for
the doubtful escutcheon of a noblesse de robe,
or peerage — won by eminence in the law — was
THE TUILERIES. 19
scornfully rejected by the chivalry of fashion ;
while the noblesse (Tepee — or peerage won by
martial distinction, — could rarely be conceded
as the reward of heroic deeds, in an army where
hereditary nobility was a requisite qualification
for military advancement.
On the evening in question, the magnificent
saloons of the Duchesse de Nivernois displayed
at once all their inherited friendships, and their
inherited glories ; — their antique tapestry, where
the infancy of art betrayed itself — like sickly
human infancy — in distortions and convulsions;
and a still more ancient gallery of pictures —
which Perugino and Sasso Ferrato, Cranach
and Durer, had laboured to fill with unpleasing
representations of martyrdoms, and other va-
rieties of pious horror. There was the obsolete
rnarqueterie — the cabinets of Buhl or Florentine
mosaic — the stately Dresden vase, with its crisp
garlands of life-like flowers; — the cup or shield
of rich embossment, such as Cellini was wont to
forge between the visions of his turbulent en-
thusiasm ; and high over all, and irradiated by a
lustrous glare of girandoles, was spread a glow-
ing and trophied representation of the heaven of
20 THE TUILKRIES.
mythology, glaring from the gorgeous pencil of
Le Brun. But what was the pride of Juno, com-
pared with that of many a wide-hooped and pom-
poned duchess, sailing beneath ; — what the prim-
ness of Minerva, to that of many an illustrious
precleuse of the circle ? Or how might the united
pride and luxury of heathen supremacy, vie
with that of the marshals, and grand echansons
and chevaliers de Vordre of the declining court
of the unregenerated Bourbons ? —
Among its best and loveliest — and it could
still boast many who were good and beautiful
— none held a fairer reputation, or more general
regard, than Emiline de St. Florentin ; but on
that cruel night, amid the music and dancing,
and sights and sounds of levity which tor-
tured her afflicted heart, her numerous ad-
mirers failed not to note the listless manner in
which she bowed into silence their eloquent adu-
lation. There was none of the playful bril-
liancy with which she was wont to retort upon
their flatteries ; none of the piquant originality
which commonly distinguished her address.
To escape their importunate inquisition, she
rose to join in the dance ; and her pale abstrac-
THE TU1LERIES. 21
tion, and unnatural wildness of eye, might have
personified the heroine of Ford's terrific drama
— Calantha — dancing on in horrible estrange-
ment of mind, until her heart breaks with the
connection of suppressed emotions !
Yet however indifferent or unconscious of
the brilliant scene by which she was surround-
ed, she could not but observe a character of
unusual softness and affectionate interest in the
demeanour of her partner and near relative, the
young Chevalier de Mirepoix. Vanity might
have given a flattering interpretation to his al-
tered manner ; but the Marchioness, secure
through the influence of a strong and hallowed
attachment from every impulse of coquetry,
dreamed of conquests as little as she desired
them ; and without a moment's hesitation attri-
buted his attentions to their fitting origin — his
participation in the anxious secret that weighed
upon her feelings.
The Chevalier was indeed a chief agent in
the projected flight of the royal family ; and it
was only in consequence of the suspicions which
the incautious zealousness of youth had already
fixed upon his person, and which might have
22 THE TUILERIES.
served to attract inquiry towards the disguised
Louis and his companions, that he had con-
sented to remain in Paris till the royal fugi-
tives should attain the Rhenish frontier.
" Be not alarmed," he whispered to Madame
de St. Florentin, as he gently withdrew his fair
cousin towards the embrasure of a window, " all
will soon be well. Heaven watches over our
cause ; and though many among us have offend-
ed, and done our unwitting part to inflame and
distemper the spirit of the people, you and
yours are altogether guiltless. Seldom and
reluctantly sharing the festivities of the court,
living in the decent retirement of a well-ordered
home, your conscience is as free from blame as
your person is secure from the odium which
clings to several leading members of our party.
No, Emiline, you can have nothing to fear ;
and trust to my predictions, that within a few
short days we shall be wandering together — with
your husband, who will be unendurably vain
of his exploit, and with your little girls, who
are vainer than all of us together — among the
vineyards of the Rhine."
" Heaven realize the picture F murmured
THE TUILERIES. 23
Emiline, labouring to repress her rising
tears.
" Hark !" interrupted the Chevalier, leaning
towards the half-open window, which over-
looked the Boulevards. " Do you hear no-
thing?"
" Some accidental passenger whistling the
' Romance du pauvre Jacques? "
" No ! 'tis a concerted signal ; and may serve
equally to re-assure us both. A faithful ser-
vant undertook to give me this intimation, at
an appointed minute, if all went smoothly with
the — travellers?
" Alas ! that such precautions should have
become needful, 1 ' replied the Marchioness ; and
scarcely able to retain her assumed composure,
she prepared to quit the ball-room.
The Chevalier de Mirepoix, who now hast-
ened to seek her servants and equipage, speedily
returned with the alarming intelligence that
a riotous mob was assembled at the entrance of
the court-yard; and that they had made a
bonfire of the sedan-chairs in waiting, the
tremendous flames of which rendered it impos-
sible for the file of carriages to advance. The
24 THE TL'ILERIES.
police, apprehensive of irritating the malignant
spirit of the populace, — the power of which had
already manifested itself by many a horrible
excess, — or perhaps secretly inclined in favour
of the revolutionary party, took no measures to
interrupt their course of outrage, or to silence
the offensive invectives, and brutal epithets,
which they lavished upon those trembling
women who attempted to escape from a scene
so appalling ; and whose titles were their sole
but sufficient sin, in the sight of the misguided
mob.
" Repress your alarm, and confide yourself
entirely to my guidance, dearest cousin," whis-
pered Mirepoix. " There can be nothing dis-
honouring in flight on such an occasion ; and,
attempting to conceal his own indignant per-
turbation of spirit, he hastily drew Madame
de St. Florentin from the meeting, which was
now " broken by most admired disorder," and
enveloping her whole person in his mantle,
proceeded without ceremony to disguise her
lovely face in the ample folds of a large hand-
kerchief.
" I am acquainted with the position of a
THE TUILERIES. 25
window on the basement story, from which
we can pass upon chairs to the Boulevard be-
low. But if you value your safety, utter not a
single word during the attempt," continued he,
conducting her unresistingly down a back
staircase, which, in the confusion of the hour,
was dark and deserted. In another minute
she found herself carefully lifted through the
window, and hurried, under the protection of
Mirepoix's arm, along a series of unfrequented
streets leading towards her own dwelling.
Many were the intoxicated groups of the rabble
through which they were constrained to pass,
who ferociously insisted, with the paramount
right of might, upon their joining in the popu-
lar cry of " A bas V Autrichienne T " A bas
Monsieur et Madame Veto."
"A thousand curses on their insolent
brutality !" murmured the Chevalier between
his clenched teeth, as he drew his fair and
shuddering charge still nearer to his side.
" The time is not far distant, when, with a
hand of iron, we shall wring the black blood
from their hearts.'"
" Rather pray that Heaven may turn them
vol. i. c
26 THE TUILERIES.
from their evil thoughts. As you said but
now, Mirepoix, we have all cause of self-ac-
cusal at this juncture ; nor would rivers of
blood quench the flames we have so thought-
lessly kindled in the fierce hearts of yonder bar-
barian s. 11
They were already at the gate of the Hotel
St. Florentin, where the astonished Swiss re-
cognized, with distrustful wonder, the disguised
person of the lady of his lord, returning
home at such an hour, and so strangely at-
tended.
" Farewell, my dear cousin, I must fly back
to the scene of action , r> exclaimed the Chevalier.
" Good night, my kind friend," replied Emi-
line, with sobs of terror and affliction ; " St.
Florentin will find a time to thank you for
my preservation, and I pray Heaven it may
be speedily vouchsafed. 11
THE TUILERIES. 27
CHAPTER III.
Your husband, — be is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home.
Richard II.
The Marchioness de St. Florentin hastened,
with tremulous thankfulness for her recent escape
from peril, to the solitude of her own chamber.
But it did not long remain solitary ; prudence
required her to go through the usual formali-
ties of her waiting-maid's attendance, before
she could allow herself to indulge in the relief
of tears and self-gratulation, She had scarcely
begun to disencumber herself from her orna-
ments, when, as has been already described, a
low knock at the door of her chamber renewed
her subsiding alarms.
" Who disturbs us, Flavie, at this unreason-
able hour ?" inquired she, with tremulous lips.
c 2
28 THE TUTLERIES.
" It is Monsieur Plntendant, who insists
on an audience," answered her attendant,
indignantly tossing her head as she returned
from the door. " Truly, I think he might
have entrusted his weighty mission to my
hands. For as old and as confidential a servant
as he is, had he studied the decencies to be
observed in an honourable family, he would
have known that the personal attendant of
Madame la Marquise would form a more cre-
ditable, if not so accredited an emissary of
secret intelligence, as such a superannuated
eaves'-dropping spy.'"
" Silence, Flavie ! The age of Laporte
should alone secure your respect, as it does
that of your superiors. Admit him instantly."
" And the young officer of the national
guard by whom he is accompanied ?"
" Of the national guard ? Why did you not
name him before ? Whence comes he, Flavie,
and what is his errand ?" exclaimed Emiline,
her husband's perilous absence instantly occur-
ring to her mind.
" Madame la Marquise assuredly takes me
for a witch, or forgets that I have looked
THE TUILERIES. 29
upon this young man, — who is so fortunate in
his choice of a master of the ceremonies, — for
the first time. But his errand," continued
Mademoiselle Flavie, placing her hands in the
embroidered pockets of her cambric apron,
with an air of defiance, " is probably addressed
to Madame, rather than to me. Shall I ac-
quaint him that the Marquis de St. Florentin is
absent, lest so unimportant a circumstance
should chance to have escaped the worthy in-
tendant's recollection ?" — and she glanced mali-
ciously towards Emiline's disordered dress and
burning cheeks.
The voice of Laporte was now audible from
without, imploring instant admittance ; and his
agitated mistress, hastily throwing a roquelaure
over her shoulders, and taking a taper in her
hand, rushed into the outer chamber.
" In the name of heaven, Laporte ! what
means this disturbance? Have you received
any intelligence of "
The old man interrupted her vehement apos-
trophe by a significant look at the waiting-
woman.
"Leave the room, Mademoiselle!" said
30 THE TUILEEIES.
Emiline, with an air of decision ; and the
femme-de-chambre obeyed the command with a
degree, of scorn, plainly evincing her belief
that the irksome duty of subordination was draw-
ing towards its close and with a glance of
startled recognition at the military intruder.
" May I inquire for what purpose I am
favoured with the visit of this gentleman ?"
resumed Emiline, gazing suspiciously on the
young officer.
" Madame deigns not to honour me with her
remembrance,'" observed the stranger, in a low
tone ; " happily for herself, / cannot become
equally forgetful.''
" Camille ! my good Camille !" shrieked
Madame de St. Florentin, to whom the voice of
the speaker was more familiar than was his
person, disguised by military accoutrements ;
" tell me, why are you here at this late hour
— why at all — and wherefore in this dress ?"
" My dress," said the soldier, looking down
upon his sleeve, " is the badge of a corps
which I trust I do not dishonour ; and I
am here, Madam — unbidden, as you remind
me — in order to rescue you and yours from
THE TUILERIES. 31
approaching danger. This is no time for
idle explanations, — for the deliberations of
delicacy ; I speak plainly, or I speak too late.
Before this, the fugitive king has been arrest-
ed; before morning, you will be yourself con-
ducted to prison, as an accessary in the con-
spiracy, unless you embrace the instant oppor-
tunity of flight I am come to offer. "
Madame de St. Florentin clasped her hands
together in agony. " My husband then is lost !"
she exclaimed, looking eagerly towards the soldier.
" He has necessarily shared the fate of his
sovereign, and is probably by this time a pri-
soner. But I beseech you, Madam, let not
the poignancy of your grief overcome all sense
of duty towards yourself, and towards your
children. The indecision of a single hour may
throw you into the hands of your enemies ;
and Providence can alone foresee in what ex-
cess of persecution the victors in such a cause
may indulge."
" Monsieur Camille !" interrupted the in-
dignant steward, " does it become you to in-
timidate Madame by your menaces, or to school
32 THE TUILERIES.
her into compliance by your self-assumed au-
thority ?"
fcC Alas ! my good Laporte," observed the
Marchioness, " let us hope that Heaven will
provide me with no harsher preceptor — with no
deeper humiliation than I may receive from
the hands of the playmate of my youth. Oh !
Camille," said she, bursting into tears, and
turning towards the soldier, whose commanding
figure and stern countenance relaxed at the
sound of her voice, " how different are these
days of sorrow and confusion, from those when
in our childhood, we tended the hives together in
your mother's garden. Would — would that I
were now sheltered with my children beneath
her roof !"
" The very spot, Madam, which I had se-
lected as your place of refuge," replied Ca-
mille, with respectful deference. " Say but one
word — one gracious word — and before this hour
to-morrow, you shall be safe in the humble
abode you deign to remember with regret."
" Indeed !" replied Emiline ; some bitter con-
sciousness of humiliation mingling -with her
© ©
THE TUILERIES. 33
looks and words. " And may I inquire through
what new distinctions, what mighty influence,
you are enabled to offer your protection to the
wife of St. Florentin ? It is somewhat new,
Monsieur Valazy, in our national annals, and
sufficiently speaks the altered character of the
land, that the poorest vassal of an ancient line
of nobility is empowered to vouchsafe his safe-
guard to the daughter of his hereditary lord."
She blushed for the ungenerous words which
the bitterness of degradation had wrung from
her lips ; but Camille replied to the taunt with
unmoved calmness.
" It is, I trust, Madam, neither new nor won-
derful, that a son of France should be moved
by gratitude to respect the companion of his
childhood, although fallen into adversity — fallen
through what mischance, or what error, it were
now ungracious to inquire/'
" Silence, young man !" exclaimed the aged
steward, astounded at the audacity of Valazy.
" Lady," resumed Camille, in a still firmer
and still more energetic tone, " the passing mo-
ment, which we waste so idly, is one of the
mightiest importance ; — if we lose it, the chance
c5
34? THE TUILETIIES.
is irrecallable. For ages past, my forefathers
have been retainers to your own — 1 was born
a vassal of your house — my mother alienated
my infancy from her bosom, but to place you
there ; and when I became fatherless, it was the
fondness of her nursling which rescued us from
ruin and misery."
" Camille ! is this a time "
" Hear me to an end, and then, Madam, you
may resume, if you will, your disdainful re-
proaches. I was deprived by a trifling fault
of my boyhood of your noble father's protec-
tion, and was taught to believe my folly an in-
expiable sin ; but now I learn to bless the
day in which I was expelled from the lands
of the Due de Navelles, since, by laying the
foundation of my subsequent fortunes, it ena-
bles me to secure the safety of his daughter
and her infant children, Scorn it, Madam, if
you will ; but after-hours will prove that many
royalists, your equals in honour and station,
would gladly have availed themselves this night
of similar assistance.'"
"I am to understand, then," said the Mar-
chioness, with an air of hauteur, " that I have
THE TUILERIES.
35
the honour of conversing with a faithless fac-
tionary of the Revolutionists ?"
" It matters little by what epithets you may
choose to qualify your scorn, Madam, 11 replied
Valazy, gazing mournfully on the unwonted ex-
pression of waywardness disfiguring her lovely
countenance; "be assured that you converse
with one bound to your service by ties before
which party, interest, nay ! even duty itself,
are frail as the smoking flax. Little would it
avail me to recount the feelings, the hopes,
which have rendered me what I am. Let me,
therefore, only boast myself your humblest of
servants, and as such win your confidence to
my assurances. 11
" I beseech you, Madame la Marquise, to
pardon his presumption, 11 said Laporte ear-
nestly. " In spite of his jargon, and his un-
reasonable pretensions, be assured that Camille
Valazy is still your devoted adherent. 11
" I must be permitted to withhold my trust,
Laporte, till Monsieur Valazy condescends to
explain himself. 11
" Monsieur Valazy, 1 ' resumed the young
soldier, reddening, " knows with very painful
36 THE TUILERIES.
certainty, that a deputation of the National
Assembly, which met on the first rumour of
his Majesty's departure, will visit this house at
day-break, to affix the national seal upon the
papers and effects of the Marquis de St. Floren-
tin; and that a warrant of arrest is already is-
sued against your person, as having abetted his
criminal practices against the state."
" The state !" exclaimed Emiline.— " The
state, which itself conspires against the safety
of its anointed sovereign ! My husband's prac-
tices ! — would that the mercy of Heaven had
crowned them with success ; for they have been
honourable as his own noble nature !"
"You have children, Madam,' 1 observed Va-
lazy, somewhat sternly ; and the rising glow
of her enthusiasm instantly faded from the
beaming countenance of the Marchioness.
" Your projects, Camille — your preparations
— speak ! — speak ! — explain them all without
hesitation ! "
" I have obtained a passport," answered Va-
lazy, drawing a paper from his bosom, " which
will enable you to pass with your children,
under the protection of the faithful Laporte,
THE TUILERIES. 37
as far as Montreuil sur Mer. I have a friend
there, high in authority, who will see you
placed in security under my mother's roof, to-
wards whom, Madam, I rejoice to perceive your
affection still unchanged. From thence, and
seizing the earliest opportunity, you will do
well to seek your eventual safety in England."
"In England !" faltered the astonished La-
porte.
66 In emigration /" murmured the Mar-
chioness ; " and leave my husband in the hands
of assassins ? — Never !"
" Hush !" said Camille, pointing towards the
door. " For his sake, learn to moderate your
expressions ; and for your own, deign, Madam,
to remember that should his life be really en-
dangered, your utmost efforts in his cause would
be utterly ineffectual, while your presence might
place a fatal impediment upon his movements.""
" It may be so — it may indeed be so," re-
plied Emiline, wringing her hands ; " but
would even a certainty of the fact warrant my
desertion — my base and cruel desertion ? — No !
no ! I will at least soothe his affliction by par-
ticipating in his dangers."
38 THE TUTLERIES.
" To an attached husband," observed Ca-
mille, with bitterness, " such a resolution seems
to offer a singular source of consolation !"
Then starting, as the sound of some distant
movement struck his ear, he approached with
precipitate earnestness, and renewed his en-
treaties. " I beseech, I implore you, Madam,
dally not thus with instant danger. Within
an hour you will be a prisoner, if you persist
in your rash obduracy. A post-carriage at
this very moment waits your orders in the
adjoining street; Laporte will aid me in con-
veying you thither, with your children ; and
for their sakes — for their innocent sakes — peril
no further delay. Confide in the playmate of
your infancy," he continued, throwing himself
at her feet — " confide in the devoted servant of
your father's house — confide "
"Rise, Sir!" interrupted Emiline ; "the
wife of St. Florentin has courage to meet the
appointed dangers of her destiny. Let them
come ! — I shall be found at my post, — and will-
ing to share the fortunes of my husband ."
Again Valazy persisted, pleaded — nay, almost
threatened ; and again Emiline, with warmer
THE TUILERIES. 39
energy, repelled his prayer. Wounded pride,
or perhaps some feminine instinct which taught
her to mistrust his motives, confirmed her re-
solution.
"Is it indeed so !" said Camille Valazy,
mournfully, when at length he rose from his
knees ; " must a being so good, so gifted, be-
come the victim of a prejudice, — the dupe of an
empty sound ? Old man !" he continued, sud-
denly seizing Laporte by the arm, and impelling
him towards his mistress, "join in my prayers
— second my entreaties — aid me to save her
against her very will ! — Oh, God ! — oh, merci-
ful God ! grant us the powers of persuasion —
her life hangs upon the chances of this hour !"
" Take my thanks, young Sir," said the Mar-
chioness, extending her hand towards him ;
" but be assured that my resolution is fixed."
" All — all is vain !" murmured Camille,
proudly declining a pledge so coldly offered.
" I leave you, lady ; — I obey your commands,
and feel — how bitterly feel ! — your contempt.
But no matter : to loiter here were to risk my
own safety, through which alone yours may be
hereafter secured. I leave you ; but if your
40
THE TUJLERIES.
lieart retain one generous emotion, you will re-
pent the needless pain you have inflicted upon
mine. Yes ! I shall live to be avenged ! " So
saying, and with a hasty step, he left the
chamber.
But in quitting the Hotel St. Florentin, a
new solution of Emiline , s wilfulness suggested
itself to his distrustful mind. The carriage of
the Chevalier de Mirepoix crossed him as he
passed the porte cochere.
THE TUILEK1ES. 41
CHAPTER IV.
Oh, sir ! you are too bold and peremptory ;
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
You have good leave to leave us.
Henry IV. 1st Part.
Camille Valazy, as the reader may have col-
lected from the foregoing conversation, was son
to the foster-mother of Madame de St. Florentin.
In his early infancy he had lost his father, and
been adopted by an uncle, Pierre Valazy, who
officiated as land-steward to the Due de Na-
velles, and rented a small farm in the vicinity of
the chateau ; while his mother was still retained
in the service of his noble foster-sister, to share
whose infant pastimes, Camille was frequently
and familiarly admitted. Thus. honoured by
the especial favour of his hereditary lord, and
42 THE TUILERIES.
cherished by his surviving connexions, the spi-
rited boy would have grown up in perfect con-
tentment with his destinies, had it not been
for the mortifications and malicious provoca-
tions he was perpetually receiving at the hands
of his uncle's only son, a lad several years his
senior. Maximilien, regarding him as an in-
terloper in his father's house, and jealous of
the distinctions which his mother's interest with
her lady-nursling failed not to procure for him
at the castle, eagerly profited by every occasion
of insult and oppression which presented itself
to harass his young cousin, and to display his
own perverse frame of mind. Nature appear-
ed indeed to have gifted him with every fair
and noble attribute, save the one which is
fairest and noblest. He was beautiful in per-
son, intelligent in mind, brave and hardy in
temperament ; but he had a perverse and ma-
lignant heart, which inspired him with scorn
and envy of the upright character and honour-
able principles of his poorer kinsman.
Yet, notwithstanding his ingratiating quali-
ties — notwithstanding the open forehead, clus-
tered with glossy curls, and that mellowness of
THE TUTLER1ES. 43
voice which is the eloquence of sound — not-
withstanding his acute wit and resolute courage,
— there was not a parent throughout the coun-
try who coveted him as a son, nor a mother
who desired him as the future husband of her
daughter. Vindictive, and insolently overbear-
ing wherever his personal strength and daring
could second his presumption, Maximilien was
abject and servile where his purposes required
the aid of craft ; and he recoiled not from any
sacrifice, or degradation, which could tend to
further his interests, or the deep-laid schemes
of his ambition. Accustomed during his early
youth to regard the house of Navelles as his
only source of family aggrandizement, he ex-
hibited all the zeal and devotion befitting a
faithful adherent ; but as he advanced in years,
and the impulses of very superior talent began
to suggest a stronger consciousness of self-re-
liance, the submissiveness of his obedience gra-
dually relaxed; and he now calculated the
possibilities of lifting his head above those
waves, through which he had hitherto dreamed
but of making a safe and unnoticed passage.
Unfortunately for a mind thus constituted,
44 THE TUILERIES.
Maximilien Valazy had " fallen upon gloomy
days" in the destiny of his native country.
His dawning reason had fixed his contempla-
tions on the causes and relations of things,
at a period when the corruption of a feeble and
vicious king* began to introduce fatal disorders
into the state, and to disorganize the general
frame of society throughout the realm. The
Encyclopedists were beginning to disseminate
the doctrines of infidelity and insubordina-
tion in every class of society ; and young Va-
lazy, infatuated by the brilliant eloquence of
the apostles of a false creed and Utopian
code of moral law, had enthusiastically enlisted
under their banners, long before the develop-
ment of his mental powers enabled him to esti-
mate the importance of the cause in which those
banners were unfurled.
The young and wayward are apt to chal-
lenge with but a careless examination, such doc-
trines as sanction their " pleasant vices ;" and
Maximilien, glorying in the philosophical dog-
ma which seemed to dignify his lawless insolence
of mind, now realized his first vision of general
* Louis XV.
THE TUILERTES. 45
equality among the sons of men, by qualifying
the Due de Navelles, his father's ancient patron,
as a " fou feojfe" in the hearing of all the elders
of the village ! It happened that the Duke —
who was as tenacious of his privileges of rural
sport, as many others of his degree in many
other countries — exacted with absurd rigour
the maintenance of the ancient forest laws
throughout his domains ; while young Valazy,
under the influence of his newly-acquired opi-
nions, not only presumed on their bold in-
fringement, but pursued his unlawful chase,
even into the very presence of his hereditary
lord!
The Due de Navelles remonstrated with the
daring trespasser upon his rights, in those strong
terms with which an old man generally allows
himself to convey his displeasure to a young
one, even when both hold an equal station in
life. Maximilien, however, who heard in the
well-merited reproof of his lord only the im-
perious mandate of an oppressor, retorted with
such bold audacity, that the Due de Navelles,
who was on horseback, was provoked to strike
him with the end of his whip. Valazy imme-
46 THE TUILERIES.
diately sprang upon him like an infuriated tiger;
and tearing him from his horse, was about to
see " what blood the old man had in him, 11 when
his attendants coming up, made the young ruf-
fian prisoner ; and two days afterwards a lettre
de cachet transferred him to the dungeons of the
fortress of Biche.
The elder Valazy — one of those blindly de-
voted adherents to the person of his feudal lord,
who existed even in England during the baro-
nial ascendancy, and who still exist in the re-
mote provinces of France, notwithstanding the
loosening of their chains during the universal
dismemberment of the revolution — saw in his
son's disgrace, only the fitting fruit of his awful
misdoings. " He has dishonoured a loyal name, 11
said the old man emphatically ; " and as to the
punishment of his offence, be it as our good
master pleases. 1 "'
But there was one inmate of the farm of
Grand Moulin, who did not so patiently resign
himself to the arbitrary decree enforced against
the recusant. Camille, who was now nineteen
years of age, and who, although his nature dif-
fered entirely from the violent and assuming
THE TUILERIES. 47
character of his cousin, was sufficiently embued
with the opinions of the liberal party to resist
with ardour and with firmness, the slightest
show of oppression, — was painfully affected by
the stigma which seemed to have affixed itself
upon his family.
" We, too, had our ancient pedigree," said
he ; " a pedigree of four hundred years'* unsul-
lied yeomanship from sire to son ; during which
period no shadow of disrepute dishonoured
our name. But now — a Valazy has received
the withering weight of a blow, and must not
wash away the stain with blood ; a Valazy — a
free man — an independent citizen — is shut out
by a tyrannous hand from the fair light of na-
ture ; and must not plead, in the ears of men,
against the will of his oppressor. 1 ' The impe-
tuous youth, although he still smarted under
the malevolent sarcasms of his kinsman, and still
resented his petulance of temper, could not but
regard with warm indignation, the infringement
upon the rights of man which he considered to
have taken place in the person of Maximilien.
In the excitement of the moment, he ven-
tured even to seek an audience of remon-
48 THE TUILERIES.
strance with the Due de Navelles, who reproved
his temerity, and silenced his expostulations with
the loftiest scorn ; and the youth thus casually
roused to a spirit of peevish disputation of the
divine right and feudal privileges of the aristo-
cracy, gradually forsook his blameless rou-
tine of useful employment, in order to listen to
the secret and deepening murmurs of the dis-
contented of his own degree ; and devoted him-
self to the study of those pestilential tenets, in
the circulation of which the meaner portion of
the periodical press of France was already ac-
tively occupied. Misled by a name, he address-
his fervent worship to a thing called Liberty ;
even as the professed adorers of the eternal Sun
of the heavens, pollute their faith by bending
the knee to the twinkling of a puny flame,
kindled by the designing priesthood of a de-
graded creed.
His old uncle, terrified by the delusions which
appeared to extend their contagion throughout
his household, vainly endeavoured to recall him
to the duty of passive obedience ; and Camille
might perhaps have been tempted into some
overt act of defiance to the powers that were,
THE TUILERIES. 49
upon the lands and estates of Navelles, had not
his mother, in attendance on her beloved and
loving charge, arrived opportunely at the cha-
teau. From that moment, " a change came
o'er the spirit of his dream.'"
Emiline de Navelles had at this time expand-
ed from the artless playmate of his infancy, into
a beautiful, graceful, and captivating woman.
The charm of her character and address was
universally felt and acknowledged, even by those
who detected not the qualities from which it de-
rived the peculiar fascination of its sweetness.
Emiline had, in fact, an important claim to
forgiveness, even for graver faults than any
she had yet shown — " she loved much." Ten-
derness of heart was the prevailing grace
which shed so soft a tone over her demeanour,
and actuated every impulse of her character.
Dearly, very dearly did she prize the good Ma-
delon, who had replaced the mother of whom
her infancy had been deprived. Her father—
and in truth the Due de Navelles, amply repaid
her filial devotion of feeling — she regarded with
adoration. She loved the home of her infancy
vol. i, d
50 THE TUILERIES.
— her birds — her books ; nay, even her devo-
tion was tinged with this feminine softness of
nature ; and she loved the Almighty hand which
had still guided her through paths of pleasant-
ness and peace, even more than she feared its
power to change those flowery regions into
gloom and desolation.
And now this perilous and overflowing soft-
ness of feeling was beginning to assume the fir-
mer texture of womanly affection. Emiline was
on the point of marriage with the chosen of her
heart — the young Marquis de St. Florentin,
her father's favourite nephew. She was come
to bid a short adieu to the home of her ancestors ;
and on her return to Paris, the union which
equally favoured her own inclinations and the
wishes of her whole family, was to be solemn-
ized. It was several years since she had visited
Navelles, and since Camille had been last ad-
mitted to her presence ; but Madelon's interest
with the gouvernante of the young heiress
easily procured him an occasion to throw him-
self at her feet, in order to solicit her interpo-
sition in favour of his unhappy cousin.
THE TUILERIES. 51
" Rise, my good brother !" said the gentle
girl, with encouraging softness ; "if your wish
be possible, it is already granted."
But when it became necessary to declare the
misdemeanour of the prisoner, Mademoiselle cle
Navelles grew pale as death as she listened to
the recital of her father's danger ; indignantly
exclaiming, " How ! did he then presume to
raise his hand against his liege lord ? — did he
dare to threaten and to injure my dear, kind
father ? Go ! Camille — go ! if your heart still
beat as truly as it did of old, you must admit
the impossibility of my intercession."
Madelon, Hthough she tenaciously shar-
ed old Pierre's unfatherly view of this ungra-
cious subject, could not but second the en-
treaties of the son in whom she gloried ; and at
her first persuasive word, Emiline, turning her
fair and tearful face towards the venerated
countenance of her nurse, throwing her arm
around her neck, and kissing her with the art-
less fondness of a child, replied, " And are
you too linked against me, my best of mothers?
Ah ! you are well aware that I have nothing
to refuse you ! I will go and try my interest
d 2
52 THE TUILERIE3.
in favour of the delinquent." Then running
with privileged freedom into the cabinet of the
Duke, she readily procured an order for Maxi-
milien's liberation.
" I have promised one concession on your
own part, CamiHe," observed Mademoiselle de
Navelles, as she delivered the welcome docu-
ment into his hands. " My father is of opinion
that a more active mode of life would afford a
profitable school both to yourself and to your
cousin. He exacts, in short, that you should
leave this neighbourhood for a season. "
Camille Valazy, to whom, on many accounts,
this sentence of temporary banishment from
Grand Moulin afforded a welcome release,
bowed his humble acquiescence ; and being
aware that his cousin had long determined
upon leaving home, in order to enter himself
as a student in one of the Parisian colleges, re-
solved to accept an offer which he had recently
received— and half rejected — from a distant rela-
tive of his mother, to become an assistant in one
of the most flourishing factories at Lyons, of
which his kinsman was himself the resident
director. Madclon, satisfied that he should
THE TUILEIUES. 55
obey on any terms the orders of his incensed
patron, now warmly urged his departure ; nor
did he long resist her recommendations.
66 My destiny appears to assign me a less
ambitious career than my choice," said he at
parting ; " but as it may enable me, mother,
to acquire a decent competence, and render
your old age happy and independent, I am
contented."
" And what has thy father's son to do with
ambition ?" replied Madelon, gravely. " Thy
uncle has turned the head of Maximilien, by
sending him yonder to the city to wrangle
and dispute in a noisy school ; and cumber
his head with learning that unfits him for a
life of labour. Thyself, Camille, hast caught
the parrot-phrase of his presumption, and with
less excuse ; for thou hast nothing to support
thy pride, not even that knowledge which is
the serpent-tempter of thy cousin Max. For-
get it, my son, forget it ; and in its stead, learn
that thine old mother derives her chief happi-
ness from her dependence on her kind protec-
tors."
Young Valazy blushed for his mother — then
54 THE TUILERTES.
for himself; and repeating that Navelles had
long been insupportable to him, he joyfully
departed to embrace his new vocation. He
was scarcely aware that the feelings which
he carried with him were so powerfully, de-
veloped as to stamp the character of his future
destinies.
THE TUILERIES. 55
CHAPTER V.
And grave he grew, and inwardly intent,
And ran back in his mind with sudden spring,
Look, gesture, smile, speech, silence, every thing ;
Turning their shapely sweetness every way,
Till 'twas his food and habit, day by day ;
And she became companion of his thought.
Leigh Hunt.
The recent interview between Camille and
Mademoiselle de Navelles had indeed im-
printed a new character upon the mind and
feelings of the young enthusiast. Alienated
from all the gentler ties of domestic life, reared
wholly among men, and far from his only sur-
viving parent, Valazy had acquired from the
solitary haunts and occupations he had singled
to himself, a highly contemplative and romantic
frame of mind. To escape from companion-
56 THE TUILERIES.
ship with his ungenial cousin, and unrestraint
edly secure his own, he selected in his boyhood
the task of superintending his uncle's extensive
flocks upon the hills. Next, he became the
woodsman of the farm; and in the couise of
either employment, he had leisure to indulge
in that visionary exaltation of soul, which,
when unrestrained by the precepts of education,
and the attemperment of elder counsel, is so
apt to generate an unquiet and romantic dis-
position. The world of which Camille dreamed
in his solitude, was a mere ideal world of his
own imagining, and its visions were fatal to the
subordinate course of his destinies.
As he grew in years, the literary stores with
which his richer cousin returned from his brief
course of city education, became open to his
inquiry; and the new books which Maximilien
eagerly procured from Lyons, and which
were universally of a sceptical and demo-
cratic character, became his constant compa-
nions. The Cure of Navelles had little ima-
gined, when, by teaching him to read, he un-
locked the gates of learning for his wanderings,
how perilous a path he would select; and
THE TUTLERIES S 57
poor Madelon, who was proud of the scholar-
ship of her son, as little conjectured the result
of his studious application. Without pilot,
without compass, he launched himself upon
that mighty ocean, whose waves have impelled
so many an unwary voyager to his destruction ;
and which, although they lave the shores of
thousands of rich and prosperous countries, have
many a desart island threatening with shipwreck
their confiding victim. But Camille thought
not of the whirlpool, the iceberg, or the vol-
cano. He dreamed but of the flowery regions
gemming the bosom of that great deep of
mind, on which he sailed deliciously along ; — en-
chanted with the varying tints of shore and
sky, and wooing the impulsive winds and un-
seen currents which forwarded his progress.
It is not to be supposed that a person of so
sensitive and delicate a cast, would yield the
rich prize of his first affections to one of the
uneducated peasants of his native village; above
whom, indeed, the Valazy family always main-
tained an unsociable supremacy. In the depths
of his solitude, his mind had figured forth an
idol — lovely, pure, gentle, and intelligent —
d 5
58 THE TUILERIES.
on which he delighted to lavish his ideal
homage ; and this fair creature of his brain, —
" this eldest virgin daughter of the skies," — he
had found realized in the sister of his child-
hood — the beautiful Emiline. Her image, in
its cherub grace of infancy, was already min-
gled with all his earliest reminiscences of tender-
ness and joy ; he had ever cherished the recol-
lection of a fairy thing, whose playful steps
had danced with his own — whose soft arms had
twined round his little neck — whose toys, and
treasures, and sweetest kisses had been lavished
upon " her own dear Madelon's own dear
Camille." But the tide of passionate feeling
which now rushed upon his heart, rose from a
very different source ; he still loved Emiline,
but no longer as a child ; nor did he affect to
misinterpret the nature of his love. Hopeless
as it was, and as he knew it to be, his very de-
spair appeared to augment its fervor.
" She is the fairest and sweetest thing I ever
looked upon," said he, in his solitary com-
muning ; " and how can I divest myself of the
consciousness of her perfections? Even had
my birth raised me to the level of her own
THE TUILERIES. 59
still, since she loves another, still my passion
had been hopeless ; and should I therefore have
been less intoxicated by her perfections ? —
No — no ! I was born to love her, — born to be
her slave ; so long as beats my heart, the
image of Emiline will be enshrined amid its
fervent warmth ; so long as my bootless life
endures, that devoted passion will be its curse.
In all other things condemned to a chilling me-
diocrity, I will be at least pre-eminent in the
strength and ardour of my hopeless attachment.
Not one among that gilded crowd in which her
frivolous existence is fated to waste away, will
love her as I do — without one evil thought —
without one consoling expectation."
Even in the dull routine of occupation exact-
ed by his new employment at Lyons, Camille
found leisure for the day dreams of his me-
mory. Chained, for the first time in his life,
within the walls of a city, he soon began to
thirst for the balmy morning air, and pant for
the greenwood depths of his native forests.
His mind was ever wandering in the valleys of
Navelles ; — hanging like their native lilies over
those wandering streams, and picturing the fair
60 THE TUJLERIES.
form still glancing like that of a wood-nymph
among the thickets of the vast domain. Nor
did he attempt to drive the image from his
mind : for why should he renounce so guiltless
an indulgence ? —
" 'TVas but his taste for what was natural, —
And slill his fav'rite thought was loveliest of them all."
The first interruption to his rational mercantile
pursuits, and his irrational sentimental vagaries,
was a letter from his mother, describing, in her
usual terms of partial affection, the celebration
of the happy marriage of her foster-child ; the
festivities of the bridal day ; the graceful love-
liness of the young wife ; and the considerate
kindness of the Marquis de St. Florentin towards
herself. Nor did Camille receive the intelligence
with more than a transitory feeling of bitter-
ness. The bride was not removed by a single de-
gree the further from his humble adoration. Emi-
line de Navelles had been a " bright particular
star" shining in the heaven of his fancy ; and
Emiline de St. Florentin could be nor more nor
less. " Since this marriage ensures her happi-
ness," thought Camille, " let me rejoice in its
THE TU1LER1ES. 61
completion. She cannot form a wish of which
I do not desire the fulfilment."
Meanwhile, Maximilien, released from his
ignominious durance, returned to Navelles to
prepare himself for the welcome course of life
assigned by his sentence of banishment ; and
which no other circumstances would have in-
duced his old father to sanction. Pierre Valazy
entertained an inherited opinion, that agricul-
tural cares and labours offer the highest and
most honourable occupation to those who boast
no gentle blood as a plea for idleness ; but he
considered a life of study preferable to one of
mere pleasure ; and as his garners were filled
with plenteousness through his own prolonged
and laborious activity, he readily supplied his
son with the means of entering himself in the
College de Louis le Grand, at Paris ; and the
young aspirant scarcely repined at the means
through which a measure so consonant with his
desires had been brought about.
Maximilien was, in fact, prepared to take his
departure from Grand Moulin, in the quietest
and most inoffensive manner ; but the Due de
Navelles, with highly injudicious pertinacity^
62 THE TUILERIES.
insisted on bestowing a parting admonition' —
an intention which he announced as arising
from a parental interest in his welfare, — upon the
refractory offspring of his submissive steward.
The impatient young man would even have
endured without remonstrance the prosy dul-
ness of his suzerain's common-place harangue,
in favour of the lovely being who hung over
his chair, and seemed desirous of tempering the
haughtiness of his rebuke; but the Due de
Navelles had unfortunately judged it expedient
to summon his whole household as witnesses
of an audience so fraught with edification ; and
to mingle with his reproof certain bitter taunts,
which roused the worst feelings of young
Valazy's passionate nature. Too deeply irri-
tated to hear his insulting lesson to an end,
Maximilien rushed from the chamber ; but as
he reached the door, he turned his flashing and
dilated eyes upon the astonished auditory ; and
extending one hand towards the aged Duke, in
an attitude of denunciation, " Vouz m'avez
avili /" he cried. " Reckless of my sense of
torture, you. have trampled me beneath your
feet. Look on me, tyrant ! peruse the linea-
THE TUILERIES. 63
ments of my countenance, and trace there a
character of dignified and energetic nobleness,
such as your parchments never yet conferred.
Fortune may place me where you sit — and
leave you where I stand : — nay ! lower by ten
thousand-fold ! Meanwhile, I wait her sen-
tence. Aristocrat, we shall meet again !"
There was a deep silence as the sound of his
departing footsteps was heard echoing along the
corridor and the state- staircase ; and the do-
mestics of the Duke, instead of resenting the
insolence of Valazy, or intercepting his passage,
fetched a general breath, as if relieved from
the presence of some supernatural being ; they
retired in speechless consternation, as though a
demon's voice were ringing in their ears ! Even
the young St. Florentin remained breathless
with surprise; and was glad to escape to the
society of his wife for a further explanation on
the subject.
" Your father, Emiline," said he, " has made
this day an implacable and dangerous enemy."
" Dangerous ! — you surely jest. It is to
be hoped that the Due de Navelles may laugh
64 THE TUILEItlES.
to scorn the menaces of one in so degraded a
position as the peasant, Max. Valazy."
" It is for those who win to laugh ; and no
enemy should be regarded as powerless or des-
picable, who is animated by an enterprizing
mind; more especially if, as in the present
instance, unrestrained by moral or religious
principle."'
" You overrate the peevish taunt of an irri-
tated boy — the threat of my father's farmer's son.
Dear St. Florentin ! consider for a single mo-
ment their respective situations. — Dangerous /"
" It is by a combination of spirits such as
young Valazy, that factions arise fatal to the
repose of nations ; and in the strife of the con-
flict, when individual is opposed to individual,
the finest attemperment of the most polished
weapon is no surety against the rude pike of a
determined assailant. Mark my prediction,
Emiline, that in the event of any popular tu-
mult, Maximilien Valazy will become a conspi-
cuous leader. He unites an audacious courage
with the depth of sagacity requisite to attain
such an eminence."
THE TUILERIES. 65
u But why should you dream of popular
tumults? This is not the first time I have
heard you refer to such a bugbear. 1 '
" Nor will it be the last. The dissensions
continually arising between the king his mi-
nisters and his parliament, the growing un-
popularity of her Majesty, the deep-laid
schemes of the Palais Royal "
" Unpopular ! — the Queen unpopular ! Dear
St. Florentin, think for an instant of the last
opera at which we assisted — think of the tu-
mults of applause that followed the chorus —
* Chantons, celtbrons notre Re'tne !'
" The incident was a consolatory one ; but
remember also the fickleness and exaggeration
of our national character. Children of im-
pulse — of enthusiasm — the sight of a lovely
woman brilliantly attired, is sufficient to ob-
literate for the moment all recollection of the
undue influence attributed to Marie Antoinette;
while Dugazon and Jelyot are pouring forth
their thrilling harmonies, the imaginary mil-
lions transferred by her intervention to the
Austrian treasury, became of minor importance.
66 THE TUILERIES.
But the relaxed bow is easily strung anew ;
and there will come an interval of calmer dis-
affection, when the busy spirits which have
long been secretly undermining our ancient con-
stitution, will gather together like electric
clouds."
" Silence, thou worse than Cassandra P' ex-
claimed Emiline, placing her small white hand
reproachfully upon his lips. " The momentary
troubles excited between the court and the city
have altogether ceased, except in the minds
of a few alarmists like thyself. ' Apres la
pluie, le beau temps T says the proverb, and
while the sun shines in the heavens, as well
as upon the earth, come and ride with me
through the woods. Surely the tranquillity of
our country life need not be pestered with
politics."
While the nobility of France were thus wil-
fully blinding themselves to the gathering dark-
ness which gradually obscured the political at-
mosphere, numerous classes of the discon-
tented were beginning to organize their scat-
tered numbers into a common body : — like the
wandering veins of a mine, they were extended
THE TUILERIES. 67
through darkness, but united by an un-
changing centre. Among his fellow-students
of the capital, Maximilien Valazy could not
fail to encounter these widely-spreading chan-
nels; and the kindred spirits with which he
surrounded himself very early in his new
career, stimulated the tone of his mind into an
utter recklessness of shame, and gradually con-
firmed his wavering principles into the extre-
mity of democratic virulence.
Of these companions, many have since at-
tained the most infamous distinction; the ro-
mantic Camille Desmoulins, — the witty and
licentious Louvet, — and others of their caste,
have been " damned to everlasting fame," as
among the earliest planters of that tree of li-
berty, which, like the Upas, dropped poison
upon the heads to which it proffered shelter.
He became an early member of the Breton
club ; a popular orator at many of the sedi-
tious meetings of the day ; an anonymous con-
tributor to the periodicals established by his
companions, in order to effect more surely the
diffusion of their mischievous tenets ; he was
68 THE TUILEEIES.
enlisted, in short, in the foremost ranks of the
petty cabal which grew, and grew, till at
length the earth was filled with the shadow
thereof.
Yet it was not solely the influence of a per-
verted patriotism, it was not alone an ill-under-
stood devotion to the cause of independence,
which united Maximilien Valazy to the popular
cause. He was anchored there by a barbed
and venomed instrument — by the power of
Hatred — deep, dark, and concentered as the
infernal gulph ! His father having died dur-
ing the first year of his banishment from Grand
Moulin, the Due de Navelles immediately ex-
tended his allodial privileges to their utmost
limit ; compelled the heir to dispose of his
leasehold rights, and virtually expelled him
from his territories. In addition, therefore, to
the clinging remembrance of a blow, Maximi-
lien cherished a recent consciousness of indig-
nity and oppression, which rendered the very
name of Navelles a rallying cry to the tumul-
tuous passions of his soul. The lust of ven-
geance fevered his every pulse ; and whenever
THE TUJLERTES. 69
his pathway was crossed by the equipage of the
Marquise de St. Florentin, and all other eyes
were riveted upon the brilliancy of her innocent
beauty, Valazy would again and again mutter
fiercely betwixt his grinding teeth, — " Aristo-
crat, we shall meet again !" —
How little — amid her career of success and
prosperity, amid the adoration of her father
and her husband, the wakening smiles of her
children, the applause of troops of friends, and
the "golden ^pinions of all sorts of men" —
how little did Emiline imagine herself to be
an object of intense passion — of love, and of
loathing, — to two individuals lost in that wide
crowd, on which she gazed impassively as on a
painted sea ! Blinded by early prejudice, she
would have still regarded those obscure indi-
viduals as mere clods of her native valley :
congenial with he earth whereon they were
born, to dig for their daily bread. She
knew not that the hour was approaching when
a Promethean torch would animate such moulds
of clay into a frightful intensity of being; and
that her own destinies, and those still dearer to
70 THE TUILERIES.
her heart, would hang upon the uncontrolled
will of men, whom she had seen crouching on
their bended knees, in the presence of her noble
parent —
" Begging their brother of the dust
To give them leave to toil !"
THE TUILER1ES. 71
CHAPTER VI.
Quoi Lisette ! est-ce vous ?
Vous, en riche toilette —
Vous, avez des bijoux—
Vous avez une aigrette 1
Vos pieds dans le satin
N'osent fouler l'erbette ; —
Des fleurs de votre teint
Ou faites vous emplette ?
Beranger.
Meanwhile the younger Valazy, destined to
an humbler sphere of action, and to a mode of
life the useful activity of which forbad the conti-
nuance of his speculative studies, became less and
less interested in the disputes and discontents of
the new system of philosophy. It was his fortune,
and a happy one, to live among a race of men
devoted to the interests of their calling ; who,
while they saw their workmen thriving and
72 THE TUILERIES.
peaceable, and their looms in full occupation,
were indifferent whether " the Pope or the Em-
peror" ruled the hour. They were, in short,
uninfected by the prevailing and still prevalent
epidemic mania for ruling and regulating a
state, already perplexed with over-legislation ;
and as Camille, on his arrival at Lyons, found
neither partizans nor even listeners for his pa-
triotic declamations, and as he was now secure
from the daily spectacle of aristocratic encroach-
ment, he became less morbidly tenacious of
popular rights; and devoted the exercise of
his excellent understanding to the improve-
ment and furtherance of the branch of trade to
which circumstances had attached his services.
In these views, his early proficiency in mathe-
matical studies — the sole profitable instruction
he had gathered from the aid of his talented
cousin — seconded his ardour; and during his
second year of attendance at the manufactory,
he effected a mechanical improvement which
induced the partners of the establishment to
grant him a share in the concern, as their easiest
mode of repayment ; — they wished to make him
their own at any price. The gentle demeanour
THE TUTLERIES. 73
and fine person of young Valazy, had also
their part in securing his popularity, not only
throughout the populous establishment to the
well-being of which his cares were constantly
directed, but among the more respectable inha-
bitants of the commune. He might even have
realized the destiny which romance commonly
assigns to the industrious apprentice, by mar-
rying with his master's daughter; for the
heiress of his elder partner had made some sin-
gular declarations of preference in his favour.
But Camille appeared to be wedded to his com-
mercial drudgery ; he remained unobservant of
the coquetry of the young Lyonnoise, and re-
tained his grave and reserved address through-
out the civic duties and social intercourse.; to
which he was introduced by the wide con-
nexions and growing opulence of his firm. He
was sad without discontent ; but his melancholy,
like that of Jacques, was one peculiarly his
own.
The most cheerful smiles in which he was
wont to indulge, arose on the occasional re-
ceipt of a letter from his mother ; which, in
spite of its rude orthography, and the ruder
vol. i. e
74 THE TUILERIES.
simplicity of its style, ever found a direct road
to his heart. Whatever errors of composition the
epistles of Madelon mightexhibit, her sentiments
were never ignoble ; never dishonouring either
to herself or her son. Her tenderness for Ca-
mille, her partiality for her nursling, usually
formed the themes of her correspondence ; and
even her gratitude towards the Due de Na-
velles, who on the death of Pierre Vafazy,
and the marriage of her lovely charge, had es-
tablished her in all comfort and honour upon
the farm of Grand Moulin, was free from any
taint of servility. She felt her claims on his
generosity ; and rejoiced that the prosperity
and filial duty of her son, enabled her to receive
the partial munificence of the Navelles family,
without any drawback from a degrading sense
of their necessity to her support.
And then she dwelt with such fond fervour
on the graceful virtues of the child she had
reared at her bosom — of her own Emiline — of
his I — who grew, she said, in favour both with
God and man ; and who had now given the
world a copy — and, according to Madelon, a
very resembling one— of her excellence. Once
THE TUILERIES. 75
or twice she adverted to the strong anxieties
entertained by the family of Navelles, its
friends, and adherents, relative to the adjust-
ment of the popular differences, and to the se-
curity of the court of Versailles. But when with
these words — for they had become mere words to
Camille Valazy— Madelon proceeded to connect
the name of St. Florentin, and the interests of
the little Emiline and her mother, he failed not
to regard with the seriousness due to its im-
portance, a subject which his secluded position
and engrossing employments had in a great
measure withdrawn from his consideration.
A secret dread of crossing the brilliant path
of Madame de St. Florentin, had hitherto deter-
mined Camille to decline the pressing desire of
his partners, that he should undertake the an-
nual settlement of their affairs with their Pari-
sian correspondents. He knew that Emiline,
although she was unhonoured by any appoint-
ment in the royal household, was regarded, as
one of the most brilliant ornaments of the court ;
where her simplicity of manners, the purity of
her conduct, and the perfect harmony subsist-
ing throughout her domestic relations, were
e 2
76 THE TUILERIES.
enhanced by many an unfortunate contrast. A
more intimate knowledge of the frame of Pari-
sian society would have taught him that stars
so differing in glory as the beauty of the Fau-
bourg St. Germain — the favourite of the Tria-
non — and an unobtrusive merchant of Lyons,
in his entresol of the Rue de la Jussienne, were
fixed in their allotted courses — parallel, and in-
capable of junction.
But various circumstances now concurred to
change his disinclination for a visit to the me-
tropolis. Madelon's recent communications had
been of a character sufficiently alarming to direct
his eager attention towards the position of pub-
lic affairs, and the destinies of those who were
so intimately involved in the distresses of the
court ; and from the same quarter he had re-
ceived hints concerning the conduct, and cha-
racter, and notorious views of his cousin, which
struck him with dismay and regret. He had
been long aware by what wanton excesses Maxi-
milien contrived to distinguish himself — even
in the most licentious capital of modern Europe;
and by Maximilien's bold avowal of his vices, he
also knew that the patrimony of the respectable
THE TUILERIES. 77
Pierre had been gradually melting away under
the fiery clutch of sin ; while his own generosity
was frequently taxed to uphold the falling fabric.
But he now resolved to see and judge the
offender and his offences, that he might remon-
strate, or assist, as the case might immediately
require; and while mingling in the murmur-
ing crowd of the mighty Babylon, he hoped to
gather tidings from its hubbub of the existing
order of things, and hints of their probable
event. He prepared himself to feel much dis-
approbation — to endure many disgusts in that re-
splendent world which had never yet shone upon
his rustic eyes ; and which books and his own
fancies had exaggerated to his conceptions, as
books and fancies will exaggerate.
But even prepared as he was, the coup cTceil
afforded by Maximilien Valazy^ suite of apart-
ments, struck him as some unreal and fantastic
vision. He had been told, and doubted not,
that his cousin entertained a guilty connexion
with a young peasant of his native village ;
whose parents had been deceived into a belief
that she was engaged in honourable service at
Paris ; while in reality she was degraded to the
78 THE TUJLERIES.
condition of Maximilien's mistress, and initiated
into all his arts of daring profligacy. Since the
period of his cousin's imprisonment, Camille had
become a stranger to them both ; and his recol-
lections of little Flavie still pourtrayedher figure
clad in the short scarlet petticoat and sabots of
her provincial costume; with her good-humoured
countenance smiling archly beneath its coarse
cornette of white linen. In such a dress he had
last seen her, when in driving home her father's
cows from the pasture with a beechen bough,
she usually paused for a moment's gossip at the
gate of Grand Moulin ; where Maximilien, in
his short jacket of grey camlet, was leaning upon
the very gun which had been his passport to
the ill opinion of the Due de Navelles. The
whole scene rose before his eyes, — with its even-
ing wood, its blossomed hawthorns, its home-
bound shepherds whistling towards the farm ;
and the freshness and simplicity of such a pic-
ture served to heighten the glare by which he
was dazzled, as he entered the apartments of his
cousin, and looked upon the luxurious extrava-
gance of their decorations.
The rich texture of the carpets — a luxury at
THE TUILERIES. 79
that time unknown in the provinces, — the com-
modes of carved orange-wood — the girandoles
of massive chrystal — and candelabra of glit-
tering steel; curtains with draperies of fil-
my muslin and cachemire — tables of Sevres
porcelain, breathing bird-like melodies from
their invisible mechanism, — these and all the
costly adornments of the gorgeous chamber, ap-
peared worthy of the boudoir of a fairy princess,
rather than of the retirement of a plebeian pa-
triot, affecting to sigh after the purity of re-
publican austerity.
But if the mere outward embellishments of
his cousin's dwelling excited his wondering at-
tention, his surprise was great indeed when the
divinity of the shrine became visible ; even
Mademoiselle Flavie herself — affecting the ex-
treme of Parisian fashion — gaudy and over-
dressed — glaring with rouge, and prominently
exhibiting the foot which had discarded its
ebony sabot, enveloped in a stocking of bro-
caded gauze, and a brodequin of the most deli-
cate silk ! She interrupted the pause of dis-
pleasure which had succeeded Camille's asto-
f
80 THE TUILERIES.
nished start, by a forced and immoderate peal
of laughter.
" And is it to gild the waste of this heartless
toy, — this vain wanton, — that Maximilien has
dissipated the honest inheritance, and hard earn-
ings of his fathers ?" thought Camille. " Is it
to breathe this enervating atmosphere, that he
has deserted the wood and the valley ?" con-
tinued he, gasping under the oppression of an
air loaded with oriental perfumes.
The hasty entrance of the object of his re-
flections, interrupted their indignant course.
" This is kind indeed, Camille !" exclaimed
his cousin, advancing towards him with a cordial
welcome. " You have a mind superior to paltry
resentment of our boyish squabbles. Touche
la, mon ami ; give me a forgiving hand. You
have delayed our meeting something of the
longest, coz ! — but, absent or present, your
friendship has afforded me more than one
timely lift."
" Your good father, Maximilien, was my ear-
liest and best friend.""
" While you are the latest and best my
THE TUILERIES. 81
father's son can boast ! and thus the debt is
acquitted ; — which is more than I can say of my
own."
" In truth, the representation of your affairs
contained in your last letter "
" Hush ! hush ! — my hero of c le Lyons (Tor,
do not open your financial budget before you
have tasted my bread and salt. Go ! Flavie —
you waste you** labour to sit simpering there;
your grimaces are quite thrown away on this
stoic of the woods. Go ! and order a repast
worthy of my cousin's welcome, and your own
assiduity. — Via ! — vanish ! — let us see no more of
you till the steam of an exquisite consomme
overpowers your musk ; Camille will be other-
wise as sick of you as I am."
Neither abashed nor resentful, the humbled
Flavie disappeared at his command ; but not so
the amazement with which the uninitiated pro-
vincial listened to his cousin's novel tone of
gallantry. To address a woman thus — a woman
whom he had loved — who perhaps still loved
him !
" And when did you visit the good woman at
e 5
82 THE TUILERIES.
the farm ? I understand that drivelling dotard,
old Navelles, added cunning to his insolence —
(no fox so crafty as a grey fox) — and pushed me
from my stool, only to place his own favourite,
your mother, at Grand Moulin. Well — better
Madelon Valazy, than no Valazy at all. And
how grows the walnut tree I planted by the
o-ate ? — how V
" I cannot satisfy your curiosity, Max, on
any point regarding our old home. I have
never visited Grand Moulin since my mother's
instalment."' 1
" Ay, ay ; you are a prudent politician.
'T would be no jest to re-encounter one of old
Navelles 1 s dictatorial admonitions ; you have
too many crowns jingling in your pockets, Ca-
mille, to endure such solemn music now."
" I am unfortunately too much occupied in
forwarding the interests of a firm whose libe-
rality has been the foundation of my fortunes,
to find leisure for a journey to Navelles."
" Like the rest of the world, your powers
measure themselves by your inclinations. Your
time can be stretched to compass a visit to our
THE TU1LER1ES. 83
gay city; while it contracts spasmodically at
the bare mention of a visit to your old mother's
drowsy chimney-corner ."
" Business alone has brought me to Paris."
" Bring you what will, my sagest of cousins !
pleasure shall keep you here.
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
I have some chosen friends to whom I must
present you — master spirits, who will one day
write the world their debtor. And Flavie —
what think you of the Ninette of Navelles, in
her Parisian costume ? What think you of the
varnish we have added, to bring out the tone
and colouring of the picture ? You smile — I
anticipate the sarcasm — I forestall your com-
ment on the colouring itself."
" You may win a race upon me for a bon mot
at a very easy rate ; I intended no illustration
of Mademoiselle Flavie's complexion ; but I
own I considered her far prettier with her
simple village bodice, and artless village man-
ners."
" Ah ! you had always a genius for the pas-
toral, and now you measure her charms with
84 THE TUILERIES.
those of the nymphs of the Rhone. N'importe !
we shall refine your taste.""
" Pardon me ! I judged your fair friend by
a standard that needs no refinement ; by the
noble simplicity of of Mademoiselle de Na-
velles ; whom even yourself have acknowledged
as an exquisite model of loveliness and taste.""
" Of Madame de St. Florentin ! — By heavens,
Camille, I do not believe you have acquired a
single new idea since we parted at Grand
Moulin."
" No new fancies, perhaps."
" You look as if you longed to add that
mine are sufficiently ruinous to suffice the whole
family."
" My dear cousin, you still over-rate my
genius for satire. Leave me to my own predi-
lections — I wage no war with yours."
" Just as you please. I perceive it is your
object to be sententious rather than witty ; — so
much the better, — I shall shiver no lance with
you, in an encounter on that ground. But I
see the boy has proved the father of the man ;
you are still the grave, reserved Camille who
conned his lesson so demurely, hanging to the
THE TUILERIES. 85
old curias rusty surplice. You made a little in-
voluntary bow when I named the Due de Na-
velles, — just as my old doting father used to
touch his cap at the sound ; and the blood still
mounts to your temple when you refer to your
foster-sister."
" You, at least, Max — can be charged with
no such sin. You are indescribably altered."
" For the better ? — Come — be courteous- —
and say for the very best."
" I will not prematurely pronounce your sen-
tence," replied Camille, gaily; "but you are
certainly more frank, — more cordial, — more — "
" Mere knowledge of the world. Those who
mingle habitually in the mixed society of a
capital, have no leisure to be reserved — no time
to make mysteries and marvels out of nothing :
— reserve is a provincial vice. We are so rich
here in conversational talents — such treasures of
wit and information lie scattered upon the sur-
face of our earth — that no man cares to disc for
hidden treasures."
" It was not frankness of manner, but of
heart, to which I referred."
" Ay, ay ; as we grow older our hearts ex-
86 THE TUILERIES.
pand— stretch like a familiar glove, and are
worn as easily. 'Tis an art you have yet to
learn, my trusty and well-beloved cousin ; but
courage ! — under my instructions you may soon
go slipshod."
64 An infallible cause for stumbling. No !
Maximilien, I will see and judge your mode of
happiness, before I either adopt or condemn
your habits of life."
THE TUILERIES. 87
CHAPTER VII.
More of your conversation would infect my brain ; being
the herdsman of the beastly plebeians. The best of them
were hereditary hangmen.
Coriolanus.
Camille Valazy was not long in accom-
plishing a more intimate acquaintance with the
connexions, the habits, and the projects of his
cousin. The very night following his arrival
in Paris was devoted to the celebration of one
of those orgies, which served to re-assemble the
partizans of the Jacobin faction : — orgies which
served to minister with equal success to the
social vices of a licentious crew, and to mask
those dark and powerful designs which were
gradually undermining the reckless footsteps of
the royalists.
The unpractised eye of the younger Valazy
88 THE TUILERIES.
rested with undisguised amazement upon the
group of patriots he found assembled in Maxi-
milien's gorgeous habitation ; — a scene affording
a singular contrast with the " greasy rogues"
who appeared familiarly habituated to its exits
and its entrances. He could not refrain from
glancing from the buffets of spotless marble,
the carved and sculptured seats, the antique
lamps, and massive plate, — to the coarse and
slovenly human figures clustered round the
board ; while to them, these costly decorations
— except in the instance of a fine statue bearing
the name of Brutus on its pedestal, and com-
manding the upper end of the room — appeared
as irrelevant and disgusting, as their own dis-
ordered uncleanliness to Camille. He had
already observed that every thing belonging to
Maximilien wore an appearance of the most
studied elegance ; while his own dress and per-
son assumed as elaborate a display of neg-
ligence. But the short unpowdered curls
clustered round his forehead, and a cravat
loosely knotted to display his fine throat, so
singularly became the Grecian outline of his
head, that they might have been adopted to
THE TUILERIES. 89
gratify his vanity, as much as to task with re-
proof the trimly neatness of the courtly musca-
din, or to satisfy the coarse prejudices of his
party.
It was the beginning of the year 1789, and
the spirit of revolutionary excitation, — which
had not yet broken forth into those overt-acts
of insubordination, of which the taking of
the Bastille in the course of the summer
proved an initial signal, — was slowly gathering
to its full ripeness of mischief: like fatal va-
pours which condense their mephitic influence
in the lowest depths of darkness, it brooded in
ambushed expectation of its future prey.
The names, therefore, which were severally an-
nounced to Valazy upon his entrance, although
he recognized them as belonging to the most
accredited agents of the Jacobin party, did not
cause his heart to leap within him, or oppress
it with an overpowering mastery such as they
have since assumed over the universal mind of
man. Danton, Marat, Barrere, Collot d'Her-
bois, Petion, Louvet, St. Just, the Abbe Fau-
chet, and Robespierre, were successively pre-
sented to the kinsman of their host and co-
90 THE TUILERIES.
mate ; and the luxurious profusion of the re-
past to whiqh they immediately addressed them-
selves, aided by copious libations, soon warmed
their hearts into cordial intimacy with the new
comer. They knew him to be a man of sub-
stantial fortune, and of respectable influence in
the populous district to which he was commer-
cially attached; and that in either character,
he would form a valuable accession to their
party. But they soon perceived that he was
no weakling, to be hood-winked into a blind
adoption of their principles, or stunned by an
empty vociferation of mere eloquence ; and
thus stimulated to an unusual desire for vic-
tory, the mental gladiators rushed upon each
other with powerful and earnest animation ;
and the tug of disputatious warfare soon ex-
cited their passions into utter forgetfulness of
their auditor, and of the decent ceremonial of
society.
But if the mind of Camille Valazy were fitted
to receive unharmed u food meet for strong
men," it was by no means constituted to digest
without irritation the poisoned viands now set
before him. Burning with youthful enthusiasm,
THE TUILERIES. 91
and bewildered by boyish dreams of perfecti-
bility and social reform, he believed himself to
be a pure and disinterested partizan of civil
and religious liberty ; and sensible, as such, of
the corruption of the existing order of things,
he was ardently desirous to behold both the
church and state of his native country cleansed
from the dust and cobwebs of time, and re-
stored to a becoming degree of purity. He
had prepared himself to join in abhorrence of
a rapacious and degraded priesthood ; but he
now heard his ancient faith reviled — his Creator
blasphemed. He had prepared himself to
second their resistance to the innovations of the
aristocracy, and to the encroachments assumed
as the prerogative of the crown by a ministry
equally bold and feeble; — but he now heard
his anointed sovereign reviled as a driveller, an
enemy to his country, and the slave of an im-
perious wife ; the overthrow of throne and
altar calmly projected ; and measures devised
and defended, whose covenants could be only
sealed by the profuse outpouring of human
blood. Till he listened to the intemperate me-
naces, and ferocious projects of Maximilien's
92 THE TUILERIES.
guests, he had considered himself enrolled in
the liberal party. With rash self-committal,
he had trodden the first steps of a green and
mountainous ascent ; where a fiery crater now
poured over his head a shower of inflammatory
missiles ; and as he listened to the eruptive
roar of the volcano, he trembled, not only for
himself, but for the country lying within its
scope of evil.
The horrors of civil anarchy rose shadowed
before his eyes, like the menacing spectres in
the vision of Macbeth. He felt how impure
must be the worship of which the arch-priests
reeled in licentious audacity on the threshold
of their sanctuary ; and whose pernicious efforts
would probably fan the pure light kindled
upon the altar of liberty, until its gathering
flames extended over the earth, even unto utter
devastation ; and the spirit of Camille sank re-
buked, when he remembered how often he had
avowed himself a fellow-labourer in the cause
he now heard advocated with such demoniacal
fierceness — with such blasphemous invectives.
Among the interlocutors in the bold argu-
ments by which these feelings were awakened
THE TUILERIES. 93
in his bosom, Robespierre alone excited his
transitory sympathy ; but be it remembered
that the real character of this ferocious beast of
prey, which in after years gorged itself in the
sight of abhorrent Europe with the blood of
its fellow-creatures, was still undeveloped. At
the period of CaminVs visit to Paris, Maximi-
lian Robespierre was regarded among his own
party, as a generous enthusiast, — simple, candid,
disinterested, and exclusively devoted to the
cause of the people.* They acknowledged that
he was a man ungifted with superior talents ;
that his eloquence was purely declamatory,
without system, and without conclusion. " La
PatrieT — that magic word, which possesses in
the ears of Frenchmen, an inherent eloquence of
its own, — was the still recurring embellishment
of his vague but brilliant orations. " The
sovereignty of the people— the happiness of the
people— the rights, the subsistence of the com-
monalty, — "
Each cunning phrase, by faction caught and spread,
became the specious and imposing theme
of his discourse. He looked to others for
* Meillan's Memoirs.
94 THE TU1LERIES.
the care of every necessary measure of re-
dress. He had no plans to propose ; but left
to Danton the task of suggesting expedients — a
task for which he was eminently qualified by
the boldness of his conceptions, the precision of
his ideas, and the stern consistency of his mind.
But while the opinions of Robespierre seemed
solely prompted by the frenzy of fanaticism, —
so artfully did he manage to disguise the
quenchless thirst of his fierce ambition, — Dan-
ton himself, lost in voluptuous indolence, was
gradually sinking into that contaminating mud-
pool of licentiousness, which induced him to
look forward to a disorganized state of society,
as affording the only cloak capable of conceal-
ing the stains with which his person was pol-
luted. A hope of escaping the chastisement
incurred by his vices, enlisted his voice in the
advocacy of an irregular mode of government.
But of all this celebrated group, the person
whose importance appeared to Camille the least
explicable, was Marat. Disgusting, and even
deformed in his person, feeble in his enuncia-
tion, and frankly avowing the avidity and ra-
pacious ambition of his personal views, this
THE TUILERIES. 95
"fanfaron de crimes" would never have risen
above his appointed destiny as an outcast
from all the better ties of human nature, had
it not been for the singular governance he con-
trived to acquire over the minds of the people,
through the infamous Journal of which he was
the editor. By addressing himself with adroit-
ness to the passions of the mob, and by affect-
ing a tone of hearty cordiality in its cause, he
created for himself a spell of authoritative in-
fluence, which he afterwards so memorably
.abused. His pen was indeed worthy the vile
service to which it was devoted; but there
were other hands more respectable, and conse-
quently more dangerous, which directed the
periodical press towards the same purposes ; —
Louvet, the most licentious of romance writers;
— Camille Desmoulins, the maudlin sentimenta-
list ; — Barrere, distinguished by witty neatness
of expression, and skilled by the art of plausi-
ble misrepresentation.
To vindicate the wrong, and warp the right —
Hebert, the witty libellist of the Queen ; — St.
Just, the echo and tool of Robespierre ; — La-
clos, — Raymond, — Fabre d'Eglantine, — these,
96 THE TUILERIES.
and many others of equal talents, if not of similar
celebrity, were diligently employed in the daily
diffusion of the tenets of Jacobinism ; and the
greater number, — though each unknown to the
other, — were receiving the wages of their sin, in
the form of a pension from the Duke of Orleans.
But although he occasionally cast his eyes
on these Journals, the organs of the demo-
cratic party, Camille Valazy had been hitherto
unconscious of the designs and the desperation
of their writers. He had believed their utmost
aim coincident with his own ; — to strip the
throne, namely, of its unnatural privileges — to
limit the influence of the aristocracy — and, in
the formation of a new constitution, to raise
the tiers etat to its becoming importance.
There were times, indeed, when the tenacity
with which Louis appeared inclined to cling to
the prerogative of his ancient crown — a tena-
city popularly attributed to the influence of
despotic Austrian blood — coupled with the fee-
bleness which appeared incapable of retaining
the rights thus vainly cherished, — induced him
to admit the probability that an unqualified
revolution must follow the first innovation
THE TUILEE1ES. 97
marking the triumph of the popular party ;
which would probably become irritated by the
royal resistance, and encouraged by its defeat.
But his amazement was great indeed, when he
listened to a harsh assertion made by Danton,
that the deposition — nay, the sacrifice of the
king and queen- — would be required by that
powerful body, which the Court of Versailles
designated as the canaille of the city ; while
Barrere fiercely rejoined, that " the roots of the
tree of liberty where never known to flourish,
till they had been watered with copious liba-
tions of the blood of kings : — and that the noble
vessel of the Revolution, could only reach its
promised haven floating on the waves of a crim-
son sea.'"*
" Ay," observed St. Just, " a nation is best
and most effectually regenerated amid heaps of
corpses !" #
Camille, who had hitherto avoided all share
in their conversation, could no longer resist ex-
pressing his indignant rejection of these san-
guinary opinions.
" As an inhabitant of the second city in the
* On the trial of Louis XVI.
VOL. I. F
98 THE TUILERIES.
kingdom, 1 ' said he, " I have an opportunity of
judging the popular temper on similar subjects ;
and I boldly assert that, with the exception of
a few lawless and godless ruffians, the people of
France are still un seduced from their loyalty
to the descendants of the bold Bearnois ; and
that however they may be disposed to resist
oppression, and the wanton squandering of
Caesar's tribute money, they would rally round
the white banner of their kings, on the first
appeal to their hereditary affection. A name
is every thing in France ; and the charm centred
in that of Bourbon will never become wholly
obliterated !"
"A spy! — a felon spy !— a skulking roy-
alist! — some abject minion from Versailles !"
resounded on all sides, on the conclusion of his
bold address. Every abusive epithet that could
be devised by rancorous hearts, was showered
upon his head ; while Camille, calmly disclaim-
ing their accusations, replied by a renewal of
his offence.
" If there be a man of honour present here, 1 '
said he, " let him singly repeat but one of the
epithets so liberally bestowed en masse, and he
THE TUILEItlES. 99
will find that I know how and where to defend
myself and my cause ; for it is that of the libe-
ral and honest portion of my countrymen."
Maximilien now interfered as a mediator be-
tween his infuriated guests, and the object of
their suspicions ; apologizing for his cousin's
petulance, and asserting that his choler had
been excited by the abuse lavished in the course
of their arguments upon the aristocratic patron
of his youth, and the founder of his actual pros-
perity.
It was true that the character of the Due de
Navelles had been handled among them with
the most insolent bitterness ; for as a member
of the ministry which had been instrumental in
placing Marie Antoinette on the throne, and as
a notorious partizan of the Emperor, he was at
all times regarded with abhorrence by the re-
volutionary faction ; and, in the present in-
stance, the deepest execrations had been ex-
tended from his own person to those of his
family. Eagerly seizing an excuse to qualify
the expression of their intemperance, and
shrinking with the ordinary cowardice of assas-
sins from the aspect of heroic enthusiasm — even
e 2
100 THE TUILERIES.
beardless as that of the younger Valazy — they
expressed their unanimous regret that his
personal friendships and private predilections
should have been wounded by their strictures.
A hollow truce followed this apology ; and
Maxim ilien having warmly implored them to
re-seat themselves, and resume their conviviali-
ties, the angry disputants could not but follow
up their pacific' overtures. They attempt-
ed every ordinary effort by which the flag-
ging gaiety of an ill-assorted meeting is sti-
mulated into the semblance of harmony. The
song went round, — but its mirth was polluted
with obscenity ; the jest rebounded from lip to
lip, — but it raised only the hollow laughter fit-
ting its fiendish malignity ; the cup was drain-
ed, — but it was with the coarse sensualitv of in-
ebriation : — and still, at intervals, many a furious
glance, and many a gloomy scowl, was furtive-
ly directed towards Camille. The thread of
their festivity was broken ; mistrust and dis-
union had crept among them ; and long before
their usual hour of separation, the party seized
some frivolous pretext to disperse.
" And these, Maximilien, — these are your
THE TUILERIES. 101
vaunted friends !" exclaimed Camille, as the
latest lingerer left the room ; — " men who unite
the valour of the bravo, the consistency of the
hireling partizan, the drivelling eloquence of
the novelist, and the morals of the gallies !
Is it from the crooked policy of wretches such
as these, we are to expect that national re-
generation which your friend, St. Just, would
seek in a baptism of blood? — Is it from a
lazar-house we must court the pure impulses
of health ? — Is it from the caverns of vice
we must listen for the oracles of the gods ?"
" My dear and very classical friend !" re-
plied Maximilien, attempting to smother by
idle persiflage the generous enthusiasm of his
cousin ; "you are yourself inclined to-night to
play Sir Oracle ; ' and when you ope your lips,
let no dog bark.' Are these fits of inspiration
frequent with you — do you often exhibit rabid
symptoms ?"
" As you have heard my confession of poli-
tical faith this night, so will you ever hear it.
I hold myself the champion of a liberal mo-
narchy."
"Of a free tyranny — a hot moonlight — a
102 THE TUILERIES.
cold meridian ! Discerning preference ! I wish
you no worse calamity than the fulfilment of
your own desires ; but I confess I was ignorant
till now, that the worthy weavers of Lyons
affect to cut their doublets a la Henri Quatre ;
or only lay them aside that they may bare their
servile backs to the scourge of his descendants.
Nay, never look so sublimely indignant ; you
seem expiring with the anguish of stifled mag-
nanimity."
" Rather with shame for my cousin — with
sorrow for my country. 1 '
" A vile antithesis ! Banish, I pray you, all
such obsolete forms of speech. • Soyez de voire
siecle C Liberty and patriotism are the order
of the day, good coz ; and the order of the
day, you know, is a peremptory order.'"
" Maximilien ! you must grant me one fur-
ther word of expostulation ; or rather you
must allow me to suppose — to trust — that acci-
dent, or that your necessities — which, believe
me, are no longer a secret — have enrolled you
in this accursed faction."
Valazy, sobered by the earnest tone assumed
by his cousin, now haughtily replied that he wish-
THE TUILERIES. 103
ed to shelter himself under no such inference.
" Without losing my time," said he, " in chal-
lenging your right of interrogation, I hesitate
not to assure you, that every axiom advanced
this night by my friends, obtains my hearty
concurrence. The deliverers of an enslaved
nation must not be startled, like a sickly wench,
at the sight of a few red drops : for what is
the importance of the whole existing human
race, compared with the welfare of future gene-
rations? — What matters it, if a few coroneted
heads be given up to the axe, to secure succes-
sive ages of tranquil government ? — I am no
advocate for bootless slaughter ; but I heartily
believe that the greater the transpiration of the
social body, the more perfect its health.* —
And, after all, 1 ' he continued, again affecting a
hideous tone of pleasantry, " the guillotine is but
a bed a little less luxurious than those to which
the aristocrats have accustomed them selves."' '
"And may I inquire, 1 ' said Camille, shud-
dering as he spoke, " whether the party, to
which you assert yourself as belonging of your
own free choice, is truly so numerously and so
* Historical.
104 THE TUILERIES.
potently organized, as my late courteous com-
panions persisted in declaring ?""
" Undoubtedly ! On the word of a kinsman
and a true man, I was present some nights ago
at a secret assembly, where four thousand per-
sons affixed their signature of support to a mea-
sure, which I must refrain from defining to so
loyal a subject, and so thin-skinned a politician,
as my cousin Camille."
Ci Then God have mercy upon our country !"
said Camille, with fervent solemnity.
" Amen ! — Amen ! for with a starving popu-
lation, an absolute monarch, and a profuse and
licentious queen, she has need of all the mercy
which the universe can spare. But her day
and ours approaches, Camille; and I trust,
when the new light dawns, it will show you to
me as a friend.*"
THE TUILERIES. 105
CHAPTER VIII.
How now, my lord !
Will the king join this piece of work 1
Pol. — And the queen too, and that presently.
Bid the players make haste.
Hamlet.
Camille Valazy retired from the reeking
contamination of his cousin's Saturnalia to a
sleepless pillow ; where, again and again, the
momentous revelations of which he had been
an involuntary auditor, seemed to grate upon
his ear, and startle his harassed mind ; involving
the happiness of all who were dear to him in their
evil augury. But the more he reflected upon
the characters of those among whom the omens
had been interpreted, the more he was inclined
to attribute their protestations to the boast-
ful swaggering of groundless self-confidence.
f 5
106 THE TUILERIES.
" The bee wandering among the poisoned plants
of the Savannah," said he within himself, " is
said to gather only infected honey. Why then
should I give faith to the testimony of such
men as Marat and Danton ?"
But notwithstanding the self-reproval of
young Valazy, he could not altogether with-
hold his faith from the declarations of Maximi-
lien's Jacobinical associates ; and it was with an
aching head and heavy heart, that he rose the
following morning to receive the appointed
visit of Monsieur Delplanque, — a rich silk
mercer of the Rue St. Honor e, with whose
house his own maintained important commer-
cial relations. After an hour passed in the
regulation of their mutual concerns,, during
which the obligations of debtor and creditor
were satisfactorily adjusted, the smirking man
of the counter, polite as a court calendar, and
apparently desirous of condescending from his
awful eminence as " merrier brevete de sa ma-
jeste" in favour of the substantial credit of his
provincial correspondent, glanced upon his own
elaborate array, his habit a galons, and per-
ruque a Voiseau royal, observing that he was
THE TUILERTES. 107
compelled to assume a court dress, in order to
conduct his daughter to Versailles.
" Indeed !" exclaimed the provincial, — who
had been somewhat curious to know for what
purpose the knight of the ell-wand had girded
on the slender steel sword, which dangled im-
portunately between his almost equally slender
legs.
6t Yes ! Monsieur Valazy ; we Parisians find
it necessary to hold our time and our persons
at the disposal of the court. Some days ago I
was honoured with the commands of Madame
Thibaut, to exhibit at Versailles a few demie-
saison novelties ; and having ventured to take
with me my daughter, Mademoiselle Euphroi-
sine, to assist me in disposing and displaying
them to the best advantage, her dexterity and
modest demeanour attracted the favourable
notice of Madame ; and "
" She engaged your young lady as her
femme de chambre f observed Camille, negli-
gently, and with wandering thoughts.
fc< Sir r ejaculated the amazed Delplanque,
stretching himself out like one of his own
lustrings.
108 THE TUILERIES.
" The talents of Mademoiselle will, no doubt,
do honour to her choice.'"
" A femme de chambre ! — my daughter ! —
the most accomplished young lady — the richest
heiress of the parish of St. Honore, a femme de
chambre ! Sacrebleu F
Camille rose in explanation of an error which
it was very difficult to qualify ; but the agita-
tion with which old Delplanque continued to
smooth down his ruffles, and his frequent inter-
ruptions of " line femme de chambre! que
diable r filled up the pauses of his harangue;
while the mercer of her most Christian Majesty,
feeling conscious that graciousness became the
lofty sphere in which he moved, and recurring
within his secret soul to certain views which
he had long entertained on the merchant of
Lyons, at length accepted with affability the
proffered olive branch.
" Ah ! I perceive your mistake. It was the
post of companion you intended to designate.
1 Demoiselle de compagnie de Madame la sar-
intendante de la Reine f Quite another affair —
quite another affair ! But to return to my
little narrative. We visited Versailles, Sir, as
THE TUILERIES. 109
I before informed you ; we were welcomed with
the most gatifying urbanity, as I now acquaint
you ; — and we were honoured by an especial
token of royal favour."
Delplanque paused, either to fillip a particle
of dust from off his silken vest, or to stimulate
the curiosity of his auditor ; but Camille, on
this occasion, prudently refrained from antici-
pating the nature of a distinction adapted to
the daughter of her Majesty's mercer.
" Yes ! my young friend, a token of the
most flattering favour," continued the old man,
taking from his pocket a perfumed play-bill
elegantly printed on some of his own white
satin; which, with spectacles on nose, he pro-
ceeded in a pompous voice to recite.
THEATRE DE LA REINE.
On donnera ce soir, Mardi 20 Avril, 1789, une premiere
representation de
LA GAGEURE IMPREVUE,
Madame de Clainville . . Sa Majeste la Reine,
Goite Madame la
&c. &c.
" This play-bill, Monsieur Valazy," said Del-
planque, suddenly interrupting himself through
a laudable preference of his own prose to that of
110 THE TUJLEItlES.
other people, " this play-bill, Sir, enveloped
tickets of admission for myself and Euphroisine,
to her Majesty's most private and particular
theatre of the Petit Trianon ; a favour rarely
conceded even to those permanently attached
to the household. But I have not yet disclosed
the most gratifying incident of the whole affair,'"
he continued, bowing as if the mere recitation
of the royal name had filled his great soul with
all the urbanity of the (Eil de Boeaf. " I say
the most gratifying, inasmuch as I trust it will
procure my daughter and myself the advantage
of Monsieur Valazy's society throughout the
pleasures of the evening. Know then that the
amiable Madame Thibaut enhanced the value
of her gift by presenting me with an admission-
ticket for a second gentleman ; conjecturing
that, in all human probability, a young lady
gifted with the beauty, and prospects, and ac-
complishments of my Euphroisine, (she is
Gretry's favourite pupil, Monsieur Valazy,)
could not be without an admirer.'" And with
another nourish, Delplanque drew forth the
precious talisman, and placed it at the disposal
of Camille, who was prompted by a first ixn-
THE TUILERIES. Ill
pulse to decline a gift appearing to confer or
imply a degree of devotion towards Made-
moiselle Euphroisine, such as he was by no
means inclined to assume. But a second consi-
deration induced him to accept, with becoming
politeness, the offer of his new and gracious
protector.
" I will become a witness to the excesses of
this vilified court ; I will look upon this
haughty queen and her licentious train !"" said
he, within himself, as he entered Delplanque's
plain but respectable-looking equipage ; and
under his benign instructions, was driven to the
shops most in vogue, in order to equip himself
in the trim appointed for the royal presence.
" You will do me the pleasure, Sir,"" said the
old man, authoritatively addressing a fashion-
able tailor, who had undertaken to make the
requisite alterations in a suit of velours epingle,
fond vert du Nil, which some capricious courtier
had left on his hands ; " you will do me the
pleasure to forward this gentleman's dress, in
the course of an hour or two, to my house in
the Rue St. Honore : — he dines with me."
" And whom have I the honour of address-
112 THE TUILERIES.
ing," inquired the respectful king of shreds and
patches.
" The mercer of her Majesty !" said Del-
planque in a tone that might have served to
herald an ambassador from the Sublime Porte.
The tailor bowed still lower at a designation
so satisfactory to his financial calculations.
fc# The safest of customers !" said he to himself.
" Ready money V muttered the foreman, as he
brandished his needle ; and their united labours
faithfully fulfilled their share of the contract
to bestow upon the handsome young provin-
cial the air of a prince ; even Mademoiselle
Euphroisine, experienced as she was in the
tone of court and city elegance, regarded her
esquire of the evening with unqualified appro-
bation. As they drove leisurely along the
route to Versailles, her own fair countenance
reflected in the polished window of the carriage,
probably divided her attention with that of her
companion ; and seemed wholly to estrange her
notice from the thousand gardens lining the
roads of the Parisian suburbs, which were now
glowing with the brightness of their spring
flowers. Valazy was pleased with the simpli-
THE TUILEH1ES. 113
city of her manners, and with the gentle de-
ference of her address to her father, — a grace
which, throughout every rank of society, dis-
tinguishes the females of France; but the
pre-occupation of his mind, prevented him
from rendering the homage due to the sin-
gular beauty of the heiress of the Faubourg
St. Honore. He scarcely observed the grace-
ful outline of her head and waist, the dazzling
fairness of her complexion, or the surpassing
sweetness of her dimpled smile. A smile
equally radiant still illuminated the recesses of
his bosom, which neutralized the attraction of
all other charms ; and even if the soft tones of
Euphroisine's voice had found their way to his
ear, they would have been quickly overpowered
by the sonorous eloquence of her pompous
father ; who, in compassion to the rustic ignor-
ance of his companion, now proceeded to illus-
trate the play-bill and dramatis personam, with
notes explanatory of his own.
" Hem ! hem ! voyons, voyons I Who shall
we have to-night ? — Aha ! ' Madame la Duchesse
de Polignac, 1 the respected and respectable
friend of the Queen; an object of admiration
114 THE TUILERTES.
to the whole court— of jealousy to the whole
city — of adoration to a certain royal prince who
shall be nameless. ' Madame la Princesse de
Lamballe,' the loveliest flower of all Versailles ;
a daughter of the royal house of Savoy, and
daughter-in-law to the Due de Penthievre.
All ! Monsieur Valazy, — could you but see
her highness in a polonoise of brocaded silk,
couleur des cheveuoc de la reine, — the new colour,
Sir, which I have lately invented ! — As the
Queen's mercer by appointment, such little at-
tentions are expected at my hands. — Hem !
hem ! — Let me see — let me see — who have we
next on our list ? — ' Madame la Marquise de
St. Florentine an angel, Monsieur Valazy, a
very angel ! — The most adorable woman in all
Paris ! I have only to furnish her a piece of
taffeta, and it becomes the fashion in a week !"
While the enthusiastic Sieur Delplanque con-
tinued to apostrophize and apotheosize the re-
maining beauties of the court, whose titles
graced at once his ledger and the bill before
him, Euphroisine was pondering over the ex-
traordinary confusion which suddenly mani-
fested itself in the countenance of Monsieur
THE TUILERIES. 115
Valazy, and which was succeeded by as marked
a paleness. Believing him to be indisposed,
she silently let down the glass of the chariot ;
but on perceiving that even with this accession
of air he still gasped for breath, she directed
the attention of her father towards his guest.
" Merciful Heavens ! what an alarming per-
turbation ! — Was Monsieur Valazy unwell ? —
was he subject to these nervous attacks ? — Per-
haps the Puree a la Pompadour had been too
much for his digestion ; — the Eau doree too
powerful ? "
" By no means ; but "
" Was Monsieur Valazy inclined to return
to Paris ?"
" On no account ; but "
" Would Monsieur Valazy, on arriving at
Versailles, desire to consult the physician, —
surgeon, — apothecary, — or pharmacien of her
Majesty ? — The name of Delplanque would gain
access to the whole faculty ; — he had therefore
only speak. "
No ! — Monsieur Valazy expressed himself
already quite recovered from his momentary
seizure. And Euphroisine, detecting with the
116 THE TUILERIES.
tact of her sex, Camille's anxiety to divert the
attention of his companions, readily engaged
her father in a critical comparison of the various
physicians attached to the household; while
Valazy, by a strong effort, regained his com-
posure.
Those who are habituated to the publicity of
the world, who are accustomed to see their
holiest and most secret sentiments exposed to
the daily scrutiny of society, can ill imagine the
feelings of a visionary who, having nursed in
solitude some delirium of the heart, shielded its
sweet fancies from observation, guarded its hal-
lowed object within an unapproachable shrine,
and madly lavished there its silent fervour of
devotion, is suddenly required to hear " the
one loved name"" pronounced in the vulgar tone
of every-day comment. Valazy, who had che-
rished with such an excess of susceptibility his
passion for the lovely companion of his child-
hood, — who had contemplated her noble graces
till his eye rested with dissatisfaction upon every
meaner form, — who had preserved through time
and absence that beauteous image unweakened,
unimpaired, — who slept but to dream of her, and
THE TU1LERIES. 117
waked but to wonder that the spell still hovered
unrelaxingly on his lips, — who
Went on, gathering sweet pain
About his fancy, till it thrilled again,
was not prepared to see his idol dragged out for
common worship , — named with indifference, —
perhaps with blame or reproach. His contempt
for Delplanque deepened into disgust, as being
the origin of his sufferings ; and it was not till
they reached the outskirts of Versailles that he
had sufficiently regained his composure to re-
assure his anxious companions, by entering into
their conversation.
Having argued himself into some degree of
self-command, he began to rejoice that he had
been thus unwittingly betrayed into the pre-
sence of the woman he idolized. " I shall find, 11
thought he, in wilful self-deception, " that time
has subdued the vehemence of my vain, my
romantic attachment. I shall find that I can
gaze on my mother's precious nursling, as
on a beloved sister ; with the same pure
spirit of adoration that a Persian regards the
brightness of the sun. I shall see her — shall
118 THE TUILERIES.
see that face upon whose every lineament my
tenacious memory has dwelt so fondly — I shall
see Emiline ; unseen — unsuspected — uncared
for — I shall look upon her blessed face again !"
His train of reflections was now interrupted
by the complacent self-gratulation with which
the " mercer by appointment " pointed out to his
notice that, although their carriage bore no ar-
morial decorations, his card was a sufficient
passport with the Swiss, to admit its entrance
into the court-yard.
" The name of Delplanque, you perceive —
my estimable young friend — the humble name
of Delplanque is equivalent to a peerage !"
But the busy loquacity of the elated cit of
the Rue St. Honore was soon subdued into the
ton cTetiquette, the deferential composure fitting
the time and place ; and having passed in safety
" the gates, the guards, the wall," and followed
the guidance of an usher of the court to their
appointed post, the little party soon found itself
seated in a portion of the pit railed off for the
accommodation of a few inferior spectators;
comprising the most respectable inhabitants of
the town of Versailles, and one or two eminent
THE TUILERIES. 119
purveyors of the court ; among whom, as indeed
among the more exalted portion of the audience,
the appearance of the beautiful Euphroisine ex-
cited a general murmur of admiration. But
Camille Valazy marked not the cause — noted
not the effect — gazed not on the burning
blushes of his conscious companion. One
thought — one image — occupied his mind — Emi-
line — only Emiline !
120 THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER IX.
Une erreur de fait jette un homme sage dans le ridicule.
II y a de petites regies, des devoirs, des bienseances, at-
tachees aux lieux, aux temps, aux personnes, qui ne se de-
vinent point a force d'esprit, et que l'usage apprend sans
nulle peine.
La Bruyere.
They were among the earliest of the spectators ;
a circumstance attributed by the polite Del-
planque to his desire that his country corres-
pondent might be the more completely initiated
into the mysteries of the scene ; and as the
boxes became gradually filled with all that was
illustrious and lovely in the land, Euphroisine
proceeded to enlighten the mind of the pre-
occupied and indifferent Camille, by severally
announcing those court-beauties who were fa-
miliar to her knowledge, through her participa-
tions in the details of her father's business.
THE TUILERIES. 121
But her gentle whispers were urged in vain.
Neither the brilliantly illuminated theatre — the
exquisitely modulated orchestra — the beautiful
personages who negligently lent their charms to
the front rows of the boxes — nor the still love-
lier one who blushed so humbly beside him,
were capable of fixing his attention. Camille
remained bewildered, and seemingly unobserv-
ant ; till, on the entrance of a group of lovely
children into the stage-box, a murmur arose from
the part of the theatre in which he sat, of " Vive
Monseigneur le Dauphin — Vive Madame /"
At the suggestion of Madame Mackau,
their sub-governess, these infantine representa-
tives of royalty gracefully acknowledged the
applause which greeted their arrival ; while the
eyes of Camille remained riveted upon their
boy. Mademoiselle Euphroisine, observant of
the air of interest with which he gazed on
the " Children of France," and believing it to
be excited by the delicate appearance of the
young Dauphin, immediately began a loyal la-
mentation over the unfortunate feebleness of
constitution evinced by the heir to the throne ;
mingled with a refutation of the vulgar opinion
VOL. I. G
122 THE TUILERIES.
that he did not share the affections of his mother
equally with Madame Royale, and the Due de
Normandie.
But it was not the Dauphin's precarious con-
dition, nor the imputed alienation of the Queen's
attachment, which absorbed the earnest attention
of Camille Yalazy. Several children of the no-
bility had been admitted into the royal box ;
and among them, a fairy girl, with long glossy
brown curls overhanging her little shoulders,
whom Camille could have avouched that he
had carried a thousand times in his arms, and
bestowed a thousand kisses on those waxen
cheeks, which afforded a faultless model of in-
fantine beauty. "It is Emiline !" he mur-
mured — " My own Emiline !"
" It is in truth the little Emiline de St. Flo-
renting observed the astonished Euphroisine ;
but she had no time for farther explanations.
The curtain at that moment drew up, and dis-
covered Marie Antoinette in all the graceful
splendour of that youthful beauty, which afflic-
tion had not yet " clawed within his clutch ; w
her glistening hair was not yet blanched by the
vigils of anxious sorrow, nor her clear blue tri-
THE TUJLERIES. 123
umphant eyes, sullied by tears of humiliation.
Her dress was adjusted with the perfection of
elegance which was one of her sins in the eyes
of the cavilling multitude ; and even the cos-
tume of her attendant was of the choicest
fashion; — for that attendant was the Marquise
de St. Florentin.
" Mamma ! my dearest Mamma !" exclaimed
the startled cherub of the stage-box, clapping
her little hands in uncontrollable ecstacy ; while
notwithstanding the prolonged st, st, resound-
ing through the house, every spectator sympa-
thized in the affectionate rapture of the delight-
ed child.
" Ah ! there are few such mothers as Ma-
dame la Marquise f? whispered a venerable old
man who was seated beside Valazy.
" Respectable in all the relations of life !"
was the rejoinder of the person to whom his
comment was addressed. "As a daughter
wife — mother — friend — mistress — not a dispa-
raging word has ever been attached to the name
of Madame de St. Florentin."
It was fortunate for Camille that the place
assigned him by the usher in waiting, enabled
o 2
124 THE TUILERIES.
him to lean his trembling frame against an ad-
joining pillar. Confused murmurs rang in his
ears, and more than his former death-like faint-
ness overcame him, when the first melting ac-
cents of Emiline's voice stole upon his heart.
He felt his utter incapability to brave the emo-
tions swelling in his bosom ! To look upon
those smiles, unconsciously directed towards
himself; — to hear the playful modulations of
that voice — and yet endure the presence and
the gaze of thousands, — was a task beyond his
fortitude f Motioning, therefore, to his friends,
to let him depart unnoticed, he profited by the
first change of scenery to escape from the
theatre.
The chamberlain in waiting at the entrance,
followed him into the corridor, to ascertain the
cause of this hasty and perturbed exit; but
Camille, heedless or unconscious of his breach
of etiquette, rushed down the great staircase
towards the air, precipitately crossed the court-
yard, and with a distracted step and gesture,
hastened onwards without a pause till he reach-
ed the overhanging avenue covering the descent
towards the bridge at Sevres. Breathless from
THE TUILERIES. 125
speed and from emotion, he staggered towards
the bank ; and throwing himself on the grass,
relieved the horrible oppression which overcame
him, by a woman's uncontrollable burst of tears.
Scarcely had he at length succeeded in stifling
his almost convulsive sobs, when he perceived
that his flight had been pursued by two officers
of the royal body-guard, who were now stand-
ing by his side.
" What mean you by this intrusion, gentle-
men ?" he exclaimed, starting up in painful con-
sciousness of the ridicule which might attach
itself to a predicament, rendered provokingly
apparent by the importunate radiance of a
bright moonlight, shining through the still leaf-
less branches.
" I believe, Sir, I may consider the object of
my intrusion sufficiently answered," replied the
garde du corps, in a tone of mild sympathy.
" The officer on guard, alarmed by your abrupt
and unceremonious departure, commanded me
to trace your route."
"As a madman ?" observed Camille, with
bitterness ; — " or possibly, as an assassin ?*"
" In this season of popular excitement," re-
126 THE TUILEItTES.
plied the stranger, " it becomes the duty of all
who share in guarding the safety and well-being
of the royal family, to keep a jealous eye upon
the movements of such strangers as appear to
consider the presence of their sovereign no re-
straint on their caprices. In the present in-
stance, your involuntary betrayal of affliction
in my presence, — pardon me, Sir, if I allude to
that which gives you pain, — becomes the war-
ranty of your innocence."
The young officer would have proceeded in
the same considerate tone, when a police officer
with two attendants— evidently charged to re-
inforce the military scouts — came up to the
party ; and with rough interrogation, demanded
. the name and residence of the stranger.
" Has this fellow authority for his imperti-
nence ?" inquired the indignant Camille, of the
garde du corps by whom he had been first ad-
dressed.
" The gentleman is the servant of his Ma-
jesty," replied the young officer ; and you will
not, I am persuaded, resist an inquiry, which
purports no offence towards yourself."
THE TUILERIES. 127
a
Your name, young man ?" persisted the offi-
cer of police.
" Valazy — a merchant of Lyons."
" A name of no good omen, you will alio w,"
exclaimed the man, addressing his observations
to the two gardes du corps. " Some kinsman,
I doubt not, of the notorious Jacobin."
" It is the name of a loyal subject !" replied
Camille, turning fiercely upon his interrogator ;
" were he kin to a thousand Jacobins, or to as
many demons."
" You will, in that case, offer no resistance
to the search I am commanded to make on
your person. A 'loyal subject' disputes not
the mandates of his Sovereign."
" How say you, gentlemen," said Valazy,
who now began to understand the nature of the
suspicions which his precipitation had incurred.
" Have I subjected myself to this humiliating
scrutiny — to this fellow's self-asserted autho-
rity r
" I believe you will expose yourself to less
annoyance by submitting quietly to an inquisi-
tion, which I am persuaded will produce only
a result honourable to yourself," replied the
128 THE TUILERIES.
elder of the officers ; a counsel with which Va-
lazy complied without further demur ; and great
was their satisfaction — for the distress of mind
betrayed by the handsome young stranger, had
interested them warmly in his behalf — when the
search thus unceremoniously instituted, brought
to light neither weapon nor implement more
dangerous than a well-stored pocket-book.
Previous to an operation which the irritated
feelings of the prisoner rendered galling to him
beyond description, the party had been invited
by the porter of a chateau adjoining the road,
to enter his lodge ; where, flambeau in hand,
he assisted to throw light upon the investiga-
tion. All was now cleared up. The officer of
police grew courteous as a chamberlain at the
sight of his intended prisoner's morocco trea-
sury ; the gardes du corps renewed the expres-
sions of their regret at the consequences which
had visited his inadvertence; and Camille, a
few inches taller than usual, w r as about to leave
the lodge, when an officer, apparently of the
household, in a uniform brilliantly decorated,
galloped to the door; and stooping from his
horse, received the respectful report of the sub-
THE TUILERIES. 129
ordinates, of which a few detached sentences
uttered by the gardes du corps, reached the
tingling ears of its object.
" Totally unarmed — sudden indisposition —
certainly no assassin — respectable merchant
from Lyons — Camille Valazy by name "
" Camille Valazy of Lyons P shouted the
officer, leaping from his horse, and abruptly
entering the lodge. " Valazy ! my worthy
friend— when next you permit your brains to
go wool-gathering in the royal presence, for
heaven's sake — and for your own — warn your
friends of your infirmity ; or one of these ro-
mantic vagaries of yours may chance to leave
you in one of the dungeons of the Tour de la
Baziniere ; — I fancy the Bastile has opened her
rapacious jaws to devour many a prisoner on
grounds less suspicious. You may retire, gen-
tlemen," he exclaimed, addressing the other
three ; " and since you will precede me at the
palace, be so obliging as to acquaint the Due
de Liancourt who is in waiting to night, that
the person whose abrupt departure from the
theatre has given rise to such idle alarm, is a
gentleman of whose good intentions, and loyal
g5
130 THE TUILERIES.
sentiments, Madame de St. Florentin will hold
herself responsible to her Majesty, should the
exaggerated reports in circulation have already
reached the ear of the Queen."
The Marquis de St. Florentin — for it was no
other, whom fortune had thus opportunely
brought to Canaille's assistance — was now left
alone with his young protege ; and struck by
the pallor of recent indisposition which over-
spread his countenance, insisted that he should
rest himself for a few minutes, while the offici-
ous old porter procured him the refreshment of
a glass of water.
" I perceive with regret, that you are really
and seriously iiy observed the Marquis, with
the kindest interest ; " I shall therefore defer
my exhortation till a more convenient season.
Emiline will grieve to find that I have renewed
my acquaintance with her foster-brother under
circumstances in every point of view, so unsa-
tisfactory. I often remind her, Camille, of the
ckasse au chevreuil I used to have with you
during my vacation, in the forest of Navelles —
particularly when I wish to disparage the royal
battues of Fontainebleau."
THE TUILERIES. 131
" Five years have elapsed, Monsieur le
Marquis, since my days of servitude at Na-
velles. ,,
" Ay, ay ! we have heard through your
good mother, Camille, of your advancing pros-
perity; but Madelon neglected to inform us
that you were grown too proud to visit your
old friends. r>
" My visit to Paris has been one of mere
business."
" It has been that which you have pleased;—
I trust it will become pleasing to others — to
ourselves, your oldest friends. To-morrow,
Sir, we return to town ; and you will not, I
hope, refuse to take up your quarters in the
Hotel St. Jlfflfenl&i^
Camille retained sufficient presence of mind
to assure the Marquis, that an immediate ne-
cessity for his return to Lyons would not per-
mit him to profit by so much intended kind-
ness.
" How ! can you not delay your departure
for a single day, that you may bestow it on
your earliest friend and playmate ? — on one,
Camille, whose^ never-failing interest in your
132
THE TUTLERIES.
welfare, has induced her to rejoice in your ab-
sence, since it has been the means of assigning
you an honourable station in the world ?""
" I am deeply sensible of the Marchioness de
St. Florentine condescension; although it sim-
ply repays the respect of my devotion towards
herself— towards her family. Nevertheless,
Monsieur le Marquis, the concerns of the gen-
tlemen from whose generosity I derive that ho-
nourable station, require me to disregard my
private inclinations, and return to my duty.
In bidding you adieu, Sir, believe me grateful
for your gracious intention.'"
" My good friend, I will extend my faith to
an almost impossible limit ; and believe in your
good-will, although you look and speak as if
you could knock me down without remorse.
One word more,"" continued the Marquis, in a
lower tone. " I trust, Camille, you have not
passed your time during this hasty visit, wholly
in the society of your cousin — of Maximilien ?
He has become a marked man ; and highly ob-
noxious to the well-thinking part of the com-
munity."
" I feel that it is impossible for me to take
THE TUILERIES. 133
the championship on myself which our near
connexion might seem to dictate," replied Va-
lazy ; " but I have spoken with my cousin
only twice during as many years."
" Good — good ! Emiline will rejoice to hear
that a connexion so unpromising for your repu-
tation is broken off. But you must not think,
Camille, of returning to Paris on foot, in your
present feeble condition," continued St. Flo-
rentin, with an air of friendly consideration.
" Since you do not feel equal to wait the late
departure of your friends, remain here for five
minutes, and I will send you an equipage.
Nay ! no remonstrance— no re-assumption of
your air of magnanimous disdain P 1 Camille
smiled.
" Come ! all is right again ! — You look like
yourself, your boy-self, when you are cheerful.
And now, good-night, Valazy. Let your friends
hear often of your welfare !" — and having cor-
dially shaken him by the hand, the Marquis
hastily re-mounted his horse. In another mo-
ment, the clatter of distant hoofs announced his
hurried departure ; and the sound was alto-
gether lost, before Valazv could recover from
134 THE TUILERIES.
the stupefaction into which he had been plunged
by St. Florentine sudden appearance on the
scene of action.
In less than a quarter of an hour, a well-ap-
pointed carriage drove up to the lodge, with
blazing lamps; and two lacqueys in the gor-
geous St. Florentin livery, wearing bouquets
as large as bushes, eagerly inquired of the
stranger to what quarter of Paris he wished
to be conveyed.
As he rolled rapidly along, at the impetuous
pace of the blood-horses then in fashionable use,
Camille, leaning from exhaustion against the
silken cushions, could not but remember that
a few short hours before, the very cheek of
Emiline might have rested on the self-same
spot. He detected the Cipre perfume which
she habitually wore; — a flower lay upon the
seat, which, from its freshness, he believed to
have formed part of the decoration of her dress.
— He seized it, and for an instant was about to
press it to his lips, and make it Ins own ; then
throwing it from him with equal impetuosity,
he disclaimed the sickly and forbidden senti-
ment which rendered it precious to his heart.
THE TUILERIES.
135
" She is the beloved and loving wife of ano-
ther," said he ; " to me, the phantom of a
dream ! And what if her presence have power to
stir my blood — her voice to suspend my breath ;
— do I not know that it is the mere seclusion
of my life which has hitherto preserved their
influence unimpaired ? — Had I mingled — were I
now to mingle, in this giddy joyous crowd —
should I not teach myself to dismiss this chimera
from my brain, — should I not learn to consider
her but as one of the fairest of its gilded pup-
pets? — And shall I meanly remain the slave
of circumstances ? — Out on my folly ! Emi-
line is nothing, or shall become nothing, to my
heart !"
Arrived at Paris, he flung a louis-d'or to the
powdered jackanapes, who scornfully sought
out his obscure lodging ; and who despised
him only the more abundantly for his exagge-
rated liberality.
" What wouldst have, Jeannot ?" said he to
his companion. " These provincials are the
most ignorant boobies on the face of the crea-
tion. It takes them a century to learn our
commonest Parisian customs !"
136 THE TUILERIES.
" I wish they would spread the contagion
among our friends at court, my good Frontin ;
and teach them that a piece of gold wearing the
copy of the king's countenance, is a more sub-
stantial gift than a tawdry handful of gold
lace."
It is not to be supposed that Valazy's slum-
bers that night were less disturbed than on the
preceding one. So ardently did he labour to
forget Emiline, that he thought only — could
only dream of herself; — and of the happy con-
fidence of their youthful intimacy, contrasted
with her present luxuriant loveliness, and bril-
liant position in the world.
Pour chasser de sa souvenance
L'ami secret,
On ressent bien de la soujfrance
Pour peu d'effet.
Une si douce fantaisie
Toujours revient ;
En songeant qu'ilfaut qu'on Voublie
On s'en souvient !
THE TU1LERIES. 137
CHAPTER X.
O l'enujeux conteur !
Jamais on ne le voit sortir du grand Seigneur.
Dans le brillant commerce il se mele sans cesse,
Etne cite jamais que due, prince, ou princesse.
Moliere.
Alarmed by the probability of being molested
by further kindness on the part of the St.
Florentin familv, Camille rose with a deter-
mination to quit Paris with the mail-courier
that very evening; and he was projecting a
visit of explanation and adieu to the " Mercier
brevete de sa Majeste" when the old gentle-
man himself entered the room.
Although Delplanque no longer wore his
dress of ceremony, his step was far statelier
and his manner more dignified than before.
After a very formal inquiry after the health
138 THE TUILERIES.
of Monsieur Valazy, he began to express his
regret, or more accurately, his displeasure,
that the indisposition or caprice betrayed by
his young correspondent on the preceding even-
ing, should have exposed himself and his
daughter to the most alarming suspicions.
" Nay r exclaimed the irate old gentleman,
extending with one hand his gold-headed cane,
and with the other his ponderous agate snuff-
box, " even my loyal reputation, and a respec-
tability of thirty years of fair trade and solid
credit, has been endangered by your indiscreet
petulance. You have committed me with the
court of Versailles, Monsieur Valazy — cruelly
committed me ; and I consider it essential to
seek an audience of the minister of the interior
for my disculpation. I have already waited in
private upon the Marquis de St. Florentin; who,
I understand, was deputed by her Majesty to
inquire into the affair ; and have forced him to
acknowledge the improbability that a man of
my standing and experience should share in
that hot-headed infraction of propriety, which
might be very natural in a young provincial
like yourself. r>
THE TUILER1ES. 139
" You surely have not been so importunate."
" Importunate ! — me — Delplanque, Mercier
brevete de sa Majeste — importunate ? My dear
sir, you do not justly appreciate the mischiefs
of being classed among the friends and asso-
ciates of a Jacobin bravo — a stigma which your
inadvertent folly has fixed upon yourself. No,
sir ! I have consulted my much esteemed
friend, Monsieur le prevot des marchands, in
this exigency, and he advises your imme-
diate return to Lyons, and my own most
active "
" Without recognizing the Prevot des Mar-
chands' right of admonition, or seeking counsel
from friend or foe, — nay, without further con-
sideration of a very trifling and equally mis-
construed incident, — I have come to a similar
conclusion. I leave Paris, Monsieur Del-
planque, this very evening."
" So much the better, — so much the better.
I rejoice to see that my authority has its due
weight with you. Ignorant as you are of the
world, friendless in Paris, and led away by a
romantic exaltation of mind, I consider myself
140 THE TUILERIES.
responsible for your safety to my worthy cor-
respondents, the Sieurs Dacquin, of Lyons."
" Believe me, Sir, I feel it altogether unne-
cessary to tax your anxiety in my behalf."
" My good young friend ! you have no
doubt an excellent heart, — I do not dispute its
excellence ; but, unfortunately, a good head
does not fall to every one's share. As I was
observing to the lovely Marchioness just now,
' Our young protege, Madam, is'"— and he
touched his own forehead with emphasis — " i a
little in alt, or so !' But we shall form you,
Monsieur Valazy, — we shall form you. Even
Madame la Marquise expressed her perfect
content and satisfaction, when she understood
how implicitly you pin your reliance on my
guidance."
Perceiving that any attempt to undeceive a
man thus guarded round with self-sufficiency
would be labour lost, Camille now attempted
some formally polite inquiries concerning the
pretty Euphroisine ; and on this topic Del-
planque appeared, if possible, more vexatious
and tormenting than before. He persisted in
THE TUILERIES. 141
giving the most gallant intention to every trivial
compliment uttered by the wealthy young mer-
chant of Lyons. He chose to assign a secret
signification to every word ; replied with a
short laugh of most provoking implication ;
reminded Camille that he had been young him-
self; and finally gave him to understand, he
had introduced the episode of his imputed ad-
miration of the fair Euphroisine into his round
unvarnished tale to the St. Florentin family.
Whether the surpassing irritation of being
" sprighted with a fool," tended to kindle into
a deeper glow the fever already burning in
the veins of Valazy, or whether the egotistical
current of the old man's absurdity had ex-
hausted itself, Delplanque now became sud-
denly struck by the change which a few short
days had wrought in the appearance of Camille.
He insisted on feeling his hand — his pulse ;
pronounced him to be in a raging fever ; and
having resolved on summoning to their councils
on this occasion, a coadjutor less offensive to
the sufferer than the Prevot des Marchands, in
the guise of a skilful family physician, he found
142 THE TUILERIES.
himself compelled to yield to their importu-
nities, and enter his bed instead of a travelling
carriage. A cold caught on his journey and
neglected during the press of business — the
" potations pottle deep,"" and the intense ex-
citement of his cousin's detested orgies, and
more than all, immersion in the night dews of
Sevres after the enervating atmosphere of the
court-theatre, had united to produce a virulent
fever in his constitution. In the course of the
night, Camille became delirious; and on the
second day, his life was despaired of !
Delplanque, with officious zeal, now judged
it expedient to call at the Hotel St. Florentin,
and acquaint the Marquis with the imminent
danger of " that young scapegrace, our friend,
the merchant from Lyons," in whose destiny
he had deigned to interest himself; and Emi-
line, knowing the existence of the " young
scapegrace"' to be vitally precious to a person
whose happiness was sacredly dear to herself,
immediately despatched an express to Grand
Moulin, to apprize the good Madelon of the
desolate and hazardous situation of her only
THE TUILERTES. 143
son ; and on the fifth night of the unconscious
Camille's overwhelming attack, his mother was
watching by his bedside. For days, for weeks,
he lingered on the extreme verge of the
grave ; unconsciously raving of past recollec-
tions and chimeras for the future ; and lavish-
ing on many a careless ear those hallowed secrets
of his heart, which he had thought to yield but
with his life.
At length the force of youth, unimpaired by
excess, and the vigilance of careful tending,
restored him progressively to consciousness, to
motion, to strength ; and soon the only symp-
tom remaining of the oppression of his severe
illness, was a sobered demeanour, and a still
more subdued mood of mind. He learnt with
gratitude, and gratitude alone, that the St.
Florentins had been unceasing in their atten-
tions to Madelon and to himself, throughout
the period of his sufferings.
" It is well, mother !" replied Camille ;
" time will probably afford me an occasion to
mark my sense of their kindness. 1 '
" But now that you have consented to re-
turn home with me, my dear son, and perfect
144 THE TUILERIES.
your recovery in your natal air, you must not
leave Paris without acknowledging, by a part-
ing visit to the Marchioness, — to my own sweet
angel Emiline — that you are grateful for her
interest in your sufferings."
" No, mother ! no ; — they are noble, / am
base ! — The very hireling at their gate would
disavow and despise me ; and no relations can
exist between us, but such as are found em-
barrassing by them, and humiliating by my-
self. No, mother ! no ; — let them be content
with the proud consciousness that they have
conferred an obligation."
On arriving, however, at Grand Moulin, this
ferocious spirit of independence subsided into a
milder feeling, when he perceived the affection-
ate care with which Madame de St. Florentin
had laboured to surround the guardian of her
childhood with all those flattering luxuries
rendered necessaries to Madelon by her long
domestication among the rich and the noble.
Without ostentation, the most considerate ten-
derness seemed to have suggested every arrange-
ment for her personal comfort ; and Camille
watched over his mother as she dozed in her
THE TUILERIES. 145
easy chair, without wondering that she should
dream of Madame la Marquise, as of a superior
being.
But it was not as Madame la Marquise that
Madelon either thought or dreamed of her fos-
ter-child. However her speech might define the
lady of St. Florentin, to her heart she was still
" Emiline, " as truly and as tenderly as in the
days when she was wont to guide her little foot-
steps among the parterres of the Chateau de
Navelles : — she was Emiline in the prayers
nightly offered to the Almighty for her wel-
fare ; — she was Emiline in that morning burst
of joyful thankfulness, with which she went
forth to enjoy her benefits, and sun herself in
the light of Heaven. Madelon, the daughter
and widow of a vassal of the Due de Navelles,
pretended neither to gentle birth nor gentle
breeding, but she was wholly uncontaminated
by vulgarity of mind. She spoke, it is true,
the dialect of her native village, — but it served
to express the sentiments of an honest and
generous heart. She saw no further into things
than met the eye or ear, — but she saw them
undistorted by malicious interpretation. She
VOL. I. H
146 THE TUILERIES.
had loved the infant Emiline more as a daughter
of her hereditary lord, than as a charge capable
of ensuring her own future fortunes ; and she
loved Emiline, the lady Marchioness, as her
nurseling — her own — her Jtlle-de-lait — her child
in all but blood ! — nay, even Camille himself,
her only son, claimed not so close an adoption
in her heart ; for strange to tell, she felt his
superiority over herself, with a more marked
consciousness than that of the Marchioness de
St. Florentin. His honours were all acquired :
she had seen his gradual ascent towards his
present height of prosperity ; while Emiline's
dignity of station appeared in Madelon's eyes
a part of her original self. But although em-
barrassed by the sense of her son's superiority,
she dearly loved him ; was proud of his talents
and of his virtues ; and was moreover, pecu-
liarly tenacious not to intrude upon his path, so
as to humiliate him by the evidence of her former
servitude, or give him reason to wish he had a
finer lady or a better scholar for his mother.
But Madelon's humility was not un mingled
with pride. She would have scorned to assume
the appearance of a condition to which, of in-
THE TUILERIES. 147
herited right, she did not belong. Notwith-
standing her opulent circumstances, and the de-
ference with which she was regarded among the
vassalry and tenantry of the Duke, she retain-
ed her provincial costume as exactly as the
poorest peasant of the village. The lace
gathered round her wide-winged cap might be
of finer texture, and the golden cross and ear-
rings of more costly workmanship ; but in-
stead of the flimsy, self-important " Madame
Valazy, r> which many would have sought to
appear under similar pretensions, she chose to
remain "la bonne Madelon ,•" although per-
haps a little tinged with a wealthy farmer's va-
nity in her linen-presses, — her walnut-wood fur-
niture, — her twenty-five silver converts, — her
yellow carnations, — and unrivalled dairy ! She
boasted a breed of bantams, too, which was the
envy of the neighbourhood ; but it was the only
possession of which she boasted', for she had
never been known to allude to her son's acquired
gentility, or to her Emiline's faithful affection.
It was this very independence of spirit which
rendered her so dear to Camille. — He felt
himself ungifted with a similar superiority to
ii i\j
148 THE TUILERIES.
common opinion and vulgar prejudice ; and to
him, this long-delayed visit to Grand Moulin
was a source of equal triumph and humiliation.
He had left the village a peasant — he returned
to it a gentleman ; and he rejoiced in the fee-
bleness of health which, retaining him within
the limits of the farm, secured him from pro-
voking that envy, hatred, and malice, which
infallibly attend the elevation of a parvenu.
For five long years he had been imprisoned
within the walls of a city; — " the pomp of groves
and garniture of fields 1 '' had long become unfa-
miliar to his eyes. Accustomed to the daily con-
templation of the begrimed walls of Lyons,
and to the oppressiveness of a populated at-
mosphere, the fresh breeze of the wide wood-
lands, and the soft verdure of a bursting spring,
excited within his heart a sense of enjoyment,
painful from its very intensity. It was so long
since he had offered the sacrifice of gratitude
to the Creator upon his own mighty altar, that
his heart throbbed with the consciousness of its
prolonged neglect ; and as he fixed his aching
eyes on the sweep of wooded uplands, the sil-
vered orchards, and winding waters surround-
THE TUILERIES. 149
ing the farm, " the peopled desart past" sub-
sided into its real insignificance in his estima-
tion ; and " the fickle breath of popular ap-
plause" became that empty echo which the ear
of wisdom disavows. The unchangeable face
of Nature^ shining with its eternal smile, and
reminding him that while empires pass into obli-
vion, and dynasties vanish from the world, the
rolling river abideth — the fountains of the
great deep lose not a drop through the lapse
of ages — and the foundations of the hills stand
" so fast that they cannot be moved,"''' — caused
him to smile when he remembered the bootless
vehemence of the factions of Paris !
But if Camille Valazy indulged at times in
philosophical reflections, a more frequently-re-
curring consideration arose from the remem-
brance of Emiline, as connected with Navelles
and with its scenery. Nor, had he been so
minded, could he have dismissed her treasured
image from his thoughts ; for Madelon, in every
passing object, and every passing hour, found
themes on which to ground her praises. And
when he saw his mother's fair, round, good-
humoured face break into smiles whenever
150 THE TUILEIUES.
she began to talk of " her dearest child," how
could he ungraciously dismiss the subject ? —
In very truth, he could have listened for ever.
One day, Camille had been dragging his
listless limbs round the garden of Grand Mou-
lin, humouring his mother's pride in her early
lettuces, and listening to her predictions re-
specting the first opening of her rosebuds — for
they nourished in modest emulation side by
side — when he paused for a moment to rest
himself in the trimly arbour of hornbeam,
which in his boyhood he had so often assisted
to train, and which, for want of his recent as-
sistance, was now overgrown by a matted mass
of honeysuckles, through which the officious
bees were pushing their peculations with a mur-
mur of self-satisfaction. Madelon, following
his feeble steps, seated herself for a moment
by his side, to admire the busy activity of her
hovering ministers and favourites — for the re-
putation of her honeycomb vied with that of
her dairy ; — till allured by the propitious in-
fluence of the scene and hour, into the indul-
gence dearest to a Frenchwoman — an undis-
turbed causerie — she commenced a skirmish of
THE TUILER1ES. 151
gossipry, which her son readily anticipated
would terminate in an important attack. From
her very commencement of "Ah! $a, mon ami !
dis done un peu," he foresaw that he should
be required to say every thing which he most
wished should remain unsaid.
After rallying him with village freedom upon
his evident pre-occupation of mind, and attri-
buting to his love of reverie the seclusion he
had maintained since his arrival at Navelles,
she suddenly exclaimed, " Well ! she is in truth
a sweet creature ; and let them say what they
will, I cannot wonder at the devotion of your
attachment."
All the blood in Camille's wasted frame
rushed into his face at this strange avowal of
his mother's participation in his mystery. " Can
it be possible," he faltered, " that you are mis-
tress of a secret I have guarded so vigilantly ?"
" Oui da!" replied Madelon, half-laughing
at his earnestness ; " my last journey to Paris
taught me many a secret. Did I not watch by
your pillow, child ? — did I not listen to all
your sighings, and murmurings, and ravings of
her beauty, and of your own tenderness, and
152 THE TIHLERIES.
of all such sing-song fancies ? To hear your
protestations, Camille, no one on earth ever
loved so fondly before."
" I would that such a persuasion had been in
truth but the raving of my delirium ! I do
love her, mother, as none ever loved before.
Who, like me, has defied the power of time and
absence and probability ? — who, like me, has
loved without even the wish to hope ?"
" Plait-il F said Madelon. " Without a wish
to hope ! — Why, what can a fine young fellow
like my Camille have to fear?"
" Mother, you deceive yourself and me."
" Nenni, nenni, mon fits ! I had scarcelv
found my way to your secret, child, and de-
tected this wonderful passion of yours, before
I discovered that it was as warmly returned ; —
returned ! — ay, and fifty-fold. She will not
own it, Camille, but she loves the very ground
you walk upon, and "
" False ! — false ! — did an angel speak it !"
exclaimed Valazy, with indignant vehemence ;
and Madelon, who was gazing on his haggard
countenance, became apprehensive that the con-
sequences of his fever had affected his brain.
THE TUILERIES. 153
" Nay,*" she answered, in a deprecating tone,
" I tell you only what I heard myself from the
dear Marchioness's sweet lips."
" Mother !" exclaimed Camille, his own tre-
mulous with emotion, while unconsciously he
grasped her arm ; " mother, have a care ! — one
word more or less than the truth will indeed
drive me to madness.' '
" My own son ! — my own dear son P whis-
pered Madelon soothingly, as she laid the
fond pressure of a mother's embrace upon his
shoulder ; " am I wrong in revealing to you
what my other child, my daughter Emiline,
acknowledged to me ? Ay, Camille, — flout me
as you will — she told me the whole secret as we
were watching together by your sick bed : she
had been bending over you, and listening to
your incoherent lamentations "
" How ! — can it be possible ? — explain your-
self, mother ! My senses seem wandering this
morning; or did I rightly understand you,
that Emiline de St. Florentin watched by my
bed of sickness ?"
" In truth, did she — ay, Camille, hour after
hour, and day after day, — although she bade
n5
154 THE TUILERIES.
me keep her condescension a secret from your
ungracious self."
Valazy, whose mind was now excited beyond
his own control, rushed from the arbour, tra-
versing with hasty but tottering steps the
turf en paths of the garden ; while Madelon
relieved the oppression of her terror and con-
cern, by bursting into an agony of tears.
She was still stifling her sobs with her
hands, when she felt them pressed by a cold
touch ; and looking up, perceived Camille again
standing: beside her. In those few moments of
absence, an age of passion had rolled over his
head — an age of agony had racked his heart.
His lips were pale and quivering, his brow
livid, his eyes dilated.
" Mother !" said he, in a tone intensely low,
" I have heard from your mouth this day, what
else no bribe, no threat, had tempted me to be-
lieve. But you would not slander her ; — no, —
no, — no, — you would not breathe one calumni-
ous word against her! I would I had never
heard it — I would 'twere all unsaid, so I might
calm the throbbing here'" — he laid his hand
heavily on his bosom — " and think of her again
THE TUTLERTES. 155
as I have ever done. But no matter ; you
have touched the rock, and the stream which
has issued forth is a stream of lava. Is that
your fault, mother, — or is it mine ? — 'Tis her's
— 'tis her's — but again I say, no matter. I am
going back to Paris this night, this hour ; hence-
forth there is no breath on earth for me, but
where she breathes."
Madelon, now more and more convinced of
the delirium of her son, gently attempted to
dissuade him from a project apparently the re-
sult of madness. " Nay, nay, I will not hear
of your going yet, Camille ; your strength
is unequal to the exertion. Can you not write
to her father ?"
" To whom r
" To her father ; for as long-winded and
tiresome and self-sufficient as he is, the Mar-
chioness assured me that he favoured your mu-
tual passion.''
" Mother, 'tis you who are raving now."
" To the good Marquis, then ; so kindly as
our Emiline has disposed him in your favour,
I am persuaded he would condescend on this
occasion to become your advocate."
156
THE TUILERIES.
" You will drive me distracted by these
mockeries."
" Nay, after all, could the old gentleman do
better for his daughter? — For though in sooth
Mademoiselle Euphroisine is, as I have always
said, a fair and gentle young lady, and well to
do in the world, still my Camille has a right to
claim a bride as pretty as the best.""
" Euphroisine f
" The word must out at last, though you
have chosen to keep the secret so long, and
with such girlish coyness. 1 '
" Who said that Euphroisine loved me ?" ex-
claimed Valazy, fiercely.
" My child said it — our own dear Emiline."
"And where, mother, — when did she tell
you so ?"
" By the side of your sick bed, Camille.
We had been weeping together over your in-
creasing danger, and for many, many hours
you had been raving of your tenderness for
some beloved creature ; for you never named
her. Even while you were protesting your at-
tachment, my son, before all those who were
attending you, you still kept swearing that no
THE TUILERIES. 157
power should ever rend the secret from your
bosom. And when, in my perplexity, I turned
to the Marchioness for an explanation, she told
me all. — You are not angry ?"
" What all ? Speak out, while I have pa-
tience to listen."
" Good truth, 'twas little enough ! She said
that the busy old gentleman, whose officious in-
trusions upon us just then were so tormenting,
came but as a messenger from his daughter,
who loved you to distraction. She herself had
seen you together, she said, at some public
spectacle, where a jealous pique on Made-
moiselle Euphroisine's account, had driven you
almost to frenzy; and the good Monsieur
Delplanque immediately judged it his duty to
acquaint the Marquis and herself, as your
friends, with all the circumstances."
" Intolerable ideot 1"
" But so little did the worthy man disapprove
your attachment, and, according to my Emi-
line's account, so well was the degree and cha-
racter of his daughter assorted to your own,
that she was wholly at a loss to conjecture what
158 THE TUILERIES.
had suddenly driven you to such an extremity
of despair."
" Despair ?"
" Yes ; repeatedly, during the paroxysms of
your disorder, you spoke of your utter hopeless
ness — of having vainly striven to drive the
sweet image from your heart — of "
" And Emiline listened to the cries of my
agony, yet knew so little to interpret their
meaning ; so little dreamed of my devotion to-
wards herself!"
"Pardon me, Camille, the gracious Mar-
chioness confides as truly in your attachment as
in my own,"' 1 replied Madelon, who was as in-
capable of imagining the possibility of a pro-
fane passion for the pure Emiline, as for the
holy Madonna herself.
" Mother, you do not know — you cannot
guess the depth of my love for my foster-
sister.' 1
" I can — I can, my son I" exclaimed Made-
lon, gratefully kissing his forehead. " And oh !
cherish that sacred affection, for it is the pride
and comfort of your old mother's life. Indulge
THE TUILERIES. 159
what whims you will in your fondness for Del-
planque's daughter ; but let your true and
supreme attachment to the sister who shared
my cares for your childhood, remain your first
impulse.'"
Camille, unwilling to give her pain, made a
signal of acquiescence, and withdrew from her
presence. " Excellent woman !" murmured he,
as he paced slowly homewards. " Incapable of
framing the thought of sin, her matronly mind
cannot imagine such monstrous disproportion
as my love for the wedded child of a noble
father ! Still may thy purity, my best of
mothers, continue to deceive thee; for the
weight of thy curse would fall heavy on my
head. That moment of misconstruction and
nattering deceit was a bitter trial; — but I do
not wish it had proved real — oh, no ! I do not,
dare not wish it."
"Now Heaven have mercy on my son!"
thought Madelon, as she also took her medita-
tive way towards the farm. " Book-learning,
and arguing, and all the new whim-whams
which the Marchioness assures me are rife at
Paris— with Max Valazy, the ill-conditioned
160 THE TUILERIES.
ruffian — as the prophet of the gang — have
turned his head ! He will love, — and he won't
love; he will away to Paris to-day — he will
back to Lyons to-morrow; and then to speak
of his devotion to my sweet child, as if it
were a sin he blushed for ! Ah ! Camille —
Camille ! it was an evil day, and evil chance,
that made thee a gentleman, if thy poor brains
cannot bear thee up through thy elevation.
God send thee sense ! — thou hast, no pride of
body, — but if there be such a thing as pride
of thought, that pride thou hast my son,
and sorely. I would I knew how his bewil-
derment would end," thought the good old wo-
man, as she seated herself at her ebony wheel ;
and to ease her perplexity, or beguile her afflic-
tion, began to spin with as diligent an alacrity
as one of the Destinies.
THE TUILERIES. 161
CHAPTER XI.
J' ai par dessus vous
Ce plaisir si flatteur a ma tendresse extreme,
De tenir tout du bienfaiteur que j'aime ;
De voir que ses bontes font seules mes destins, —
D'etre l'ouvrage heureux de ses augustes mains.
Zaire.
Dreading that the foregoing scene would be
renewed, or might have already wakened suspi-
cions in his mother's honest heart, Camille Va-
lazy seized the first letter he received from
Lyons, as a pretext for his immediate return.
" I leave you happy here,'" said he, at part-
ing, — and he gazed wistfully as he spoke, around
the well-ordered arrangements of the thriving
farm. " Your simple occupations, mother, and
prosperous industry, satisfy your heart. The
varying seasons bring you a change of cares
and pleasures, which preserve you from ennui
and "
162 THE TUILER1ES.
" Ennui f said Madelon, turning her fresh
healthy smile upon her son. " Those who rise
with the sun, Camille, and labour till its setting,
have no leisure for whimsies. I know not how
'tis — but I have ever a happy prospect before
me. To-morrow, the first scythe is to be laid
to my wheat — and saw you ever a likelier har-
vest ? — Then scarcely will the songs of my hus-
bandmen^s fete be silenced, when — quick —
quick — the vintage ! every hand to the vin-
tage ; and saw you ever a fairer crop than in
the home vineyard, and on the cote? Then,
long, long before the wine-press has done its
work, then — then comes my real fete — the dear
happy crowning moment of my year ; — guess
what it is, Camille !"
u Nay ! I know not ; you must forgive me,
mother, if my country knowledge has somewhat
escaped my memory. I cannot recollect any
further autumnal pleasure of the fields; — unless,
like our neighbour Madame du Brae, you have
a fancy to commemorate the festival of St. Hu-
bert, by riding home from the forest with a
couple of wolves at your saddle-bow."' 1
" And so rob poor Caval the ranger, of his
THE TUILEItlES.
163
forest fee ?" said Madelon, her short laugh ring-
ing joyously at the idea. " But now, guess
again !— -you cannot ? Ah ! you are such a
stranger at Grand Moulin, that you know not
half its pleasures ! Learn, then, that one calm
soft evening, at the close of the vintage, just
when all is still — still — in the twilight, except
the whistle of the shepherds folding their flocks
in the pastures, I shall hear a distant roll of
wheels, and then a long shout, and a burst of
warm acclamations in the village ; and then a
hundred neighbours will come bustling in with
the one same word on their lips, c Our good
master is come ! the gracious Marchioness is
come V And then I shall not close my eyes
for blessing myself that night ; and in the morn-
ing, long before the dew is off, a gentle tap,
and ' Bon jour, ma chere bonne I comment ca
va f and then a sweet kiss — and the little ones
creeping in with their ' Bon jour, la mere Ma-
delon,' and 6 Is not Emiline grown ? look at
Aglae's curls V Or perhaps, ' And what news
from Lyons ? my dear good nurse P - * Oh ! "'tis
such a happy moment !" said Madelon, with
164 THE TUILERIES.
the tears rolling down her cheeks at the
thought.
" And then the round of the farm ! — Madame
la Marquise must needs visit the barn-yard, to
see the game-bantams; and the young ladies
must have a look at the hives, and taste the
new honey-comb ; and then — and then — I find
when the little fairies are gone, all my flax en-
tangled on the reel — and, 'tis such pleasure to
set it right again. But forgive me, my son !
I speak of pleasure, and you are about to leave
me."
"Our parting should always be cheerful,
mother ! Since destiny decrees us to live apart,
let me rejoice that you have friends who supply
my place, and to whom your happiness is precious
as to myself. But should any future change de-
crease that flattering interest, or the activity of a
farmer's life become too much for your declining
years, you must come home toyourCamille, and
accept from him only, the tenderness and respect
which you have so much right to command in
his heart. God bless you, mother !" said Va-
THE TUILERIES. 165
lazy, with that filial salute from which no age
exempts the affectionate children of French
parents
u And you, my brave son !" said Madelon,
laying her hand upon his head. Then with
tearful eyes she followed his departing footsteps
from the village, the jealous comments of which
he cared not to provoke by the sight of his tra-
velling carriage.
" There he goes — good, and true, and hand-
some as a prince ! and as Madame herself ob-
served, it would be a sin indeed if he should
ever become infected by the thoughts and ways
of his cousin Max. Well — well ! let him marry
Mademoiselle Euphroisine ; her pretty modest
smile and rich dotation, are not to be despised ;
and he will then have other thoughts to occupy
his flighty brains, than to trouble himself con-
cerning what advisers our good lord the King
shall take to his councils — or what ladies her
gracious Majesty shall gather round her court.
What are court or council to him or me, or our
likes ? Ah ! 6 la mere Madelon — la mere Ma-
delon r tout a Vheure mes amis I — tout a Vheure^
maji. See if I can steal half an hour for my
166 THE TUILERIES.
own indulgence without being called here, and
wanted there ! Allons, allons ; la boutique
avant tout"
Once more engaged in the important concerns
of his manufactory, the mind of Camille Valazy
regained its former tone of moderation and
tranquillity. He felt that an enormous capital,
and the well-being of his patrons, was implicitly
confided to his prudence and industry; and
what afforded a still more engrossing interest to
his heart, the existence of five hundred work-
men, with their families, was dependent on
his success. The domestic legislation of this
little state offered continual calls on his time
and feelings ; for there is scarcely a condition
of life which comprehends such varieties of ex-
citement, as that which brings an individual into
close contact with a large portion of humble
fellow-creatures, whose prosperity hangs upon
his single will. The interest entertained by a
sovereign for the provinces of his kingdom, is
far less intimate and intense than that of the
manufacturer to whom thousands look with re-
liance for their daily bread.
In that degree of Lyonese society which
THE TUILERIES. 167
Camille frequented as an equal, the state of
public affairs now excited the warmest interest,
but it was discussed with a qualified view to
the emancipation of the tiers Stat, in which he
wholly sympathized. The wealthy merchants
of Lyons were naturally attached to the main-
tenance of that class of the aristocracy whose
luxury was the foundation of their fortunes.
They were attached also to the abstract idea of
their hereditary sovereign ; they loved the name
of Bourbon ; but they were royalists with a de-
termination to enforce a more liberal constitu-
tion. " We adopt in our machinery,'' 1 said they,
" every improvement suggested by the discove-
ries of modern science.- -Be the loom ' of the
state as wisely and as peaceably reformed ; — its
wheels will spin the easier, and their increased
velocity produce a more even texture, — a more
polished surface."
Under these expectations, the assembling of
the States- general of the kingdom shortly after
Valazy's return from Paris, was regarded as a
first constitutional blow struck against the
abuses of a corrupt government ; and was
hailed as such with universal gratulation. The
168 THE TUILERIES.
taking of the Bastille, however, — the second in-
cident of the awful drama, and the first popular
movement, — was attended by acts of outrage,
which induced Camille to revert with alarm to
the predictions of Maximilien and his associates ;
while the insurrection which shortly followed,
connected with the events of the 5th and 6th of
September, sufficiently justified his increasing
anxiety.
It is needless to follow with close accuracy
the march of public events which, from that
period till the summer of 1791, — the epoch of
our story's commencement, — wore an appearance
of gradually deepening mischief, fatal to the
hopes of the royalists of France, and terrific to
the court of Versailles. Neither is it requisite
to revert to the equally familiar and far more
interesting picture of the sufferings of its royal
inmates ; who, from the period of their compul-
sory removal to the palace of the Tuileries, to
their attempted escape from the polluted home
of their ancestors, endured an iron bondage
which must be considered as one of the gloomi-
est and severest pages offered to the schooling
of princes. But there were individual destinies
THE TUILERIES. 169
connected with these calamities, which, if less
generally known, are scarcely less deserving of
interest.
The Marquis and Marchioness de St. Floren-
tin, although forming no part of the royal house-
hold, nor provoking through undue favouritism
the evil will of the populace, had not so wholly
escaped its censures as their kinsman the Che-
valier de Mirepoix thought proper to assert
for the re-assurance of his lovely cousin. Maxi-
milien Valazy, who had his own views in aug-
menting their unpopularity, had taken care that
their names should be denied by frequent intro-
duction into the pages of his friend, the infa-
mous Hebert. He had no direct accusal with
which to brand their innocence ; but
To bint a fault and hesitate dislike, —
to associate the unoffending with the guilty, even
by a disjunctive conjunction, — to bring them
perpetually upon the stage of shame, even with-
out involving them in the action of the piece, —
is one of those arts of faction, by which the
brightest character, though " pure as the snow
that hangs on Dian's temple," may become
vol. i. I
170 THE TUILERIES.
" begrimed and black" as the foul end to which
it is sacrificed.
The King and Queen forewarned, by many
disastrous signs and omens, of the perils which
were about to extend from their own persons to
those of their adherents, had already persuaded
many of their nearest and dearest friends to
seek safety in emigration; and had even ad-
dressed their gracious commands to the veteran
Due de Navelles, and the St. Florentin family,
to quit their native country during the preva-
lence of civil anarchy.
We will spare our readers the verbose reply
of the stanch old man ; his sentiments, although
involved in a flimsy web of diffuse eloquence,
were worthy the nobleness of his loyal name.
The honourable resolution set forth at the same
time by his son-in-law, the Marquis de St. Flo-
rentin, has already placed its melancholy conse-
quences before our eyes. Meanwhile their secret
but unrelaxing enemy, the Jacobin Maximilien,
failed not to improve the advantages afforded
him by their steady adherence to the unpopular
cause. Secure through the increasing ascen-
THE TUJLERIES. 171
dancy of his faction, from the enmity of the
lord of Navelles, he boldly revisited his birth-
place, and openly harangued the people ; and
although he ventured not to proceed to any ex-
tremity of public violence, yet the firebrand car-
ried by the human fox into the wide fields of the
Duke^ remote demesne, bequeathed sparks in
its progress, which smouldered for a time, to
burst into a desolating conflagration. Those
who marked the sullen progress of the flames,
dared not lay an assuaging hand on their vio-
lence; nay, even those who beheld their pos-
sessions thus ravaged before their eyes, were
compelled to join in the triumphant paeans of
the incendiary. Alas ! already they anticipated
a darker hour, — and more extended ruin !
i2
172 THE TUTLERIES
CHAPTER XII.
We have seen the best of our time ; machinations, hollow-
ness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly
to our graves ! Find out this villain ; — it shall lose thee no-
thing ; — do it carefully.
King Lear.
While the immediate adherents of the house
of Bourbon were thus involved in danger and
dismay, Camille Valazy did not fail to follow
with a vigilant and sympathizing eye, the deep-
ening complexion of their destinies. He knew
the woman he adored to be surrounded by
perils of the most serious character ; he saw
her name held up to common observation in the
calumnious pages of the " Pere Duchesne"
and " Publiciste Parisien f* and he was aware
that many who had been brought forward in
a similar manner, had been already sacrificed
THE TUILERIES. 173
to the blind vengeance of the people. Emiline
was in danger — the companion of his infancy —
the adored foster-child of his mother, was me-
naced by unprecedented trials ; and having
satisfied himself, that in so sacred a character
she had a claim to every sacrifice in his power
to offer, Valazy was not long in forming a de-
termination to resign his views, his interests,
his feelings, his principles, his very life, to her
service. Such was the vow he had offered to
his mother in her behalf — such was the oath
which again, and fervently, he pledged to his
own heart.
Fortunately for his intentions, it chanced,
that the course of commercial business had
already suffered a material check from the dis-
organization which now began to pervade every
branch of public affairs ; and Valazy found no
great difficulty in exciting the alarms of his only
surviving partner, respecting the critical posi-
tion of their interests. He persuaded him, and
not without sufficient justification, that the
time was come for every prudent man to hold
his capital at his immediate disposal; and
that their wisest measure would be to realize
174 THE TUILERIES.
their property, at a considerable present loss,
rather than leave it to be involved in the gene-
ral wreck which the future, and at no great
distance of time, must inevitably decree to the
commercial interests of France. Old Dac-
quin was more inclined to bewail himself and
his manufactory, than his native country, or
her failing credit ; he stormed, expostulated,
swore, wept, threatened, — and ended by assent-
ing to the views and proposals of his youthful
partner. The liberality exercised by Camille,
readily procured them purchasers desirous of
competing for a business at present thriving
with undiminished success; in less than a
month, a bright succession of newly burnished
golden letters superseded those of the firm of
" Dacquin and Valazy ;" while the ci-devant
manufacturers became capitalists and gentlemen
at large.
It was amid the confusion arising from
these important arrangements, that CamihVs
anxiety of mind was aggravated by the receipt
of a letter from Laporte, the steward of the
Due de Navelles, acquainting him with the
factious violence which had manifested itself
THE TUILERIES. 175
among the peasantry of the estate submitted to
his controul ; — with the unhappy spirit of re-
sistance to all constituted authority excited by
the visit of his kinsman Maximilien ; — and with
the belief entertained by the family of his
noble patron, that Grand Moulin was no longer
a safe or satisfactory residence for one so noto-
riously attached to their rights and interests as
his mother. He stated that, although Madelon
had been treated by her nephew with the most
scrupulous regard and deference, it had been
evidently a main object of the Jacobin's inflam-
matory harangues to render his ejection from
the farm tenanted by his fathers, an evidence
of the most oppressive tyranny ; and that in
consequence of the influence commanded by
his cunning eloquence, the good Fermiere of
Grand Moulin began to find herself, for the
first time, an object of general jealousy and mis-
trust. All remembrance of her kindliness, her
neighbourly friendship, her frank cordiality,
had been obliterated in a moment by the plau-
sibility of an orator, who contrived to connect
his own imaginary wrongs with the grievances
of that popular cause which he insidiously
176 THE TUILERIES.
affected to advocate; and Madelon, deeply
wounded by the desertion of her familiar
friends, and by the jealous sarcasms of envious
neighbours, and above all, irritated past her
patience by the disaffection which was now
openly acknowledged towards the hereditary
lord of the land, at length acceded to the
earnest entreaties of her noble foster-child, and
resigned the lease of Grand Moulin, home- vine-
yard, bantams, yellow carnations, and all !
She had not, however, at present complied with
the supplementary request of the considerate
Emiline, that she would now re-establish her-
self in her household. " Come !" she had
written, " come and resume all your rights
upon my grateful affection. I call you, my
best and kindest Madelon, to an anxious home,
and a troubled city ; but we will weep together
over the calamities of France, and teach my
children what holy charities can bind together
the lord and the vassal, whom the policy of our
evil times is seeking to disunite. 1 '
It was in furtherance of Madame de St.
Florentin's project for the removal of Madelon
to Paris, that Laporte now requested the inter-
THE TUILER1ES. 177
vention of her son. In the mean time, her own
views and inclinations were set forth in the follow-
ing epistle — being the third which his worthy
parent had laboured to indite in his behalf, dur-
ing the twenty-six years of his existence.
My Son !
" I am going to quit Grand Moulin! — So
much the worse, Camille; for you passed a
happy childhood there ; and I had my hope
that a tranquil old age would still find me
settled at the farm. 'Tis a good air, that
which blows from the cote; the vines seldom
failed, the crops are the earliest in the lord-
ship, and the basse cour, now it is paved and
rebuilt, has not its equal in the province. The
happy days of my wedded life were passed
there, Camille ; and your father died there,
and your good uncle ; but, rCimporte ! as I said
at first, I am going to leave Grand Moulin.
And now, child, what shall become of your
old mother ? It is for you to decide. My
good lady Emiline would have me live with
her at Paris; but many causes forbid me to
accept her generous offer. I am told by those
i 5
178 THE TUILEItlES.
who have been eye-witnesses to the dangers by
which she is surrounded, that for her life's
sake she may not long abide in France ; that
she must emigrate ; — emigrate ? ay, that is the
word which designates the flight of the Queen's
friends. And supposing I should agree to
encumber her journey with my helplessness,
is it for me to leave France, to emigrate — since
that is the court term for running away and
leaving all who are dearest to us in the hands
of their enemies — for me, who have a son I love,
and who is an honour to his father's name ?
" You are a gentleman now, my Camille ;
not of man's making, but of the Almighty's and
your own ; the station in which you were born
was beneath your abilities and your goodness,
although it was a match for mine ; and Madelon
knows better than to resume any post which,
ranking her with hired servants, would seem
to bring you back to the condition above
which your own exertions have raised you.
Were I alone in the world, I would toil -till
my last hour for my master's house; work for
my foster-child— beg for her; but I have no
right to degrade my excellent son in the person
THE TUILERIES. 179
of his mother. Say then, Camille, what shall
become of me ?
" Means I want not ; frugality, and Heaven^
favour have blessed my store with increase.
But these are fearful times ; the bread we eat
cannot be called our own ; and the strong arm
of defence can scarcely keep its head. With
you, Camille, I feel that my rest would be
without fear, my food without bitterness ; but
how may this be ? Will Mademoiselle Eu-
phroisine, whose speech is so dainty and her
fashioning so gay, bear with Madelon's kersey
bodice, and village phrase ? Will Camille him-
self endure to see me disgrace his board? —
My son ! it is for you to decide !"
These interesting communications served but
to determine and hasten the execution of a
project, with which Camille had from the first
connected his retirement from mercantile life.
An estate of some extent had been offered to
him as an investiture for part of his floating
capital ; which, as its vicinity to the coast of
the Pas de Calais, afforded facilities becoming
daily more important to the obnoxious party,
he resolved to make his own. It was situated
180 THE TUILERIES.
in a part of the country divided by small pro-
prietors; and consequently free from the in-
temperate spirit of resistance animating the
united peasantry of the extensive territories of
the ancienne noblesse ; and he felt that it would
form his pride and pleasure to instal his mo-
ther as mistress of an estate so secure from the
general disturbance ; and her own to embellish
and improve a spot, which might hereafter
form a safe retreat for the objects dearest to
her heart. He doubted not that while he made
it the business of his life to watch in Paris over
the destinies of Emiline and her little family,
his mother could content herself by cultivating
at Manoir the favourites of her new garden and
poultry-yard, in the hope of one day offering
their produce to favourites dearer still.
It is not to be doubted that Madelon ac-
cepted with rapture her share in the scheme —
a scheme which threatened no disturbance to
her ordinary mode of life. She was content
that herself and the carnations should be trans-
planted together : and when, every preliminary
adjusted, the son of whom she was so justly
proud came to conduct her in person to his
THE TUILERIES. 181
new estate, the eoc-bonne, ecc-fermiere bade a
triumphant adieu to the apostate village of
Navelles, with an air of magnanimous disdain
equivalent to Coriolanus's " I banish you P*
Camille did not permit himself to linger
longer at Manoir than the time requisite to
establish his mother. He had persuaded her
that it was a concession due to his position in
the world, to become Madame Valazy pre-
vious to her inauguration ; and to leave at
Grand Moulin her village costume. On this
latter point indeed, he found her less refractory
than he had anticipated; for the disloyalty be-
trayed by her native province had pre-dis-
posed her to throw off the badge which marked
her as its own. Having forwarded with lavish
liberality all her projects of improvement, and
bequeathed her to the guardianship of Mon-
sieur le Cure and the services of a huge block of
mortality, a herdsman named Tonton, who,
with his wife, had prevailed upon her to include
them in her transplantation, Camille directed
his way towards Paris; whence every latest
report wore a more gloomy aspect than the pre-
ceding intelligence.
182 THE TUILERIES.
Satisfied that " recaler pour tnieuoc sauter"
was the line of policy through which alone he
could insure his primary object — the guardian-
ship of Emiline's safety, he resolved to assume
from the first, a tone of character calculated to
rank him in the moderate party of the revolution-
ists, and obtain for him those local distinctions
which might avail in her behalf, when the
influence commanded by rank, and station, and
opulence, should have ceased to exist. He
knew that through the agency of Maximilien,
such authority would readily be placed at his
disposal ; but he had to overcome a powerful
sensation of disgust before he could determine
on seeking his cousin's presence ; who had
distinguished himself, during the two years
which had elapsed since their parting, by his
virulent persecution of the royal family, as well
as by licentious personal excesses. He was now
one of the most noted and popular members of
the Assemblee Constituante ; a leading orator
of the Jacobin club ; and a confirmed roue in
the habits of his private life. Since his last
inauspicious visit to Paris, Camille had enter-
tained no communication with his kinsman, ex-
THE TUILERIES. 183
cept through their common notary, — on the oc-
casion of superadding some units to the amount
of a loan which the wasteful luxury of the rude
advocate of Republican simplicity rendered
highly acceptable.
It was the consciousness of this heavy
obligation which somewhat damped the cor-
diality of Maximilien's welcome, and embar-
rassed his address to his country cousin. But
Camille, suspicious of the meanness of his ap-
prehensions, had no sooner assured him that he
was inclined rather to increase than diminish
the measure of his favours, when the disinter-
ested representative of the dignity of the peo-
ple altered his tone, expanded into the most
friendly warmth, and proceeded to enlarge
without reserve on the views of his party,
and acquaint himself with those entertained by
one whom he addressed as " our regenerated
cousin of beams and treadles.'"
184 THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER XIII.
Vois ce que nous etions, — et vois ce que nous sommes,
Le peuple aveugle et foible est ne pour les grands homines,
Pour admirer, pour croire, et pour obeir.
Yiens regner avec nous, si tu crains de servir ; —
Partage nos grandeurs, au lieu de t'y soustraire, —
Et las de l'imiter, fais trembler le vulgaire.
Voltaire.
" And so you are come at last, my tardy
cousin, to join the standard of the well-disposed.
Well ! — you may thank your stars, or Jupiter,
or whatever divinity replaces in your worship
the obsolete saints of the Royalists' calendar,
that you have so responsible a patron willing
to make your merits known to the assembly,
as Max Valazy, But you have yourself done
the state some service, and they know it. Be-
jieve me I have not failed to show forth from
THE TUTLERTES. 185
the outset, in its proper light, your bold attempt
in the theatre at Versailles."
" Attempt ? — my attempt ? "
" Yes — yes ! although unsuccessful, it was
not lost upon us ; — it served me indeed for the
text of an oration on heroism and intrepidity,
delivered at a two-hours 1 breath to the club of
our section."
" Can it be possible that so simple a circum-
stance should be thus magnified into mischief,
—that a vertigo should be construed into a pro-
ject of assassination ?"
" I gave you due credit for the colouring
you threw on the affair ; but between friends,
coz, — such squeamishness is absurd. Why I
was myself followed by a spy of the police — by
a mouchard, — for the three weeks ensuing, only
on the strength of bearing the same name
with so desperate a democrat as yourself ! — Ha !
ha ! ha ! — think, Camille, think of the black-
ness of a reputation which could be supposed to
endanger mine."
" I rather imagine, on the contrary, that sus-
picion fell upon me, on that luckless occasion,
only from being mistaken for yourself."
186 THE TUILERIES.
u Nay ! coz, — do not rob yourself of your
solitary laurel ; a time may come for it to shoot
out into a sheltering tree. I assure you that
when some months had passed away without
my hearing of your welfare, or whereabout, I
fully expected to unearth you in one of the
secret dungeons we ploughed up in the Bastille.
I dug forth, myself, a skeleton from under a
concealed staircase, on which the quick lime
had but half done its work, and which, by
Heavens! I thought had been your own; —
the livid brow had all your imperial air of mag-
nanimity ."
" You jest on an awful subject, Maxi-
Ittilieil/'
" Nay ! it was no jest to me, but a real right
earnest disappointment, when I found the chap-
fallen hero to have lived as a more illustrious
traitor than my cousin Camille ; for I considered
your unceremonious exit as a receipt in full
for I dare not say how many thousands of
francs.'"
" I am indebted to the warmth of your fa-
mily affection."
" Why, looking on the business with a phi-
THE TUILER1ES. 187
losophical eye, methinks I rather prefer your
living carcase ; I expect you will become an ho-
nour to the name of Yalazy. When you have
fleshed your maiden sword to the hilt in the
body of one of the tyrant's minions — when you
have quaffed inspiration from one of DantoiVs
bold harangues — when you have acquired firm-
ness as well as energy, — you may perhaps as-
pire to the distinction of becoming a popular
leader. We want a new man to occupy the
public eye ; and one whose unsullied reputation
may carry our theories home to the minds of
the scrupulous ; — the faineans, whose prudish
consciences adjudge the value of a creed from
the demeanour of its priesthood."
" I am not ambitious of so illustrious an
office as that of bleaching the stains of the
Jacobin club ; I am anxious to serve the cause
of the million, and in a very humble capacity.
My exertions have been for years past confined
to the desk ; have you interest and confidence
in my capabilities to procure me a place as
Adjoint r
" Bailly is my most intimate friend, — I have
188 THE TUILERJES.
no hesitation in assuring you of his protec-
tion."
" In the mean time I am anxious to enrol
myself in the National Guard, and devote my
undivided services to the common weal."
"Aha! — a pure republican! — why you
have outstripped me on my own course ! Little
did I expect to see so sublime an eminence at-
tained by the millionnaire of Lyons ! — by the
stripling who was proud to stand for hours
loading the fowling-pieces of the young Am edee
de Navelles, and the insolent St. Florentin ! By
the way, I conclude you are aware that the
Comte de Navelles is included in the decree
against emigration ; — his long sojourn in Italy
can be considered in no other light than the
feint of an emigrant. I must, therefore, con-
tent myself, when the day of retribution arrives,
— and its glorious dawn already glows in the
sky, — with the head of his old doting father ;
or with the hand, — the withered right hand,
whose accursed weight once struck me to the
earth. By the God of vengeance P exclaimed
Maximilien, his lips quivering with rage, " I
THE TUILERTES. 189
will hang it up in my cabinet as a trophy of
triumph for my children's children !"
" You teach me to augur ill of a cause whose
impulses are gathered from the private passions
of its leaders."
" Out on the tepid ideot who could gloze
away his sense of injury to seal up the eyes of
his proselyte ! Hear it, — Camille Valazy, my
father's brother's son — if you have been hitherto
ignorant of the fact — hear it — know it — believe
it ! 'Tis a private passion alone that motives
the ardour with which I strive to pull down the
rotten edifice of the aristocracy, toppling even
to peril above our heads ! It is the lust of
vengeance which animates my voice in the ros-
trum, — which condenses my counsel in the assem-
bly ! — I have borne a blow, imprisonment, de-
gradation. — To satiate the malicious grudge of
an oppressor, — to extinguish the idle intempe-
rance of boyhood, — I was torn like a malefactor
from my family, — denied the light and the
breath of Heaven, — the exercise of my free
limbs, — the emotion of my free heart. Con-
demned for recreation to count the slimy tracks
left by the wandering reptiles on my prison
190 THE TUILERIES.
wall, I sanctified my nightly sleep, not by a dri-
velling prayer, but by a reiterated oath, such as
the demons might register in their archives. "
" An oath ! — and to what end?"
" Pardon me, the time for perfect confidence
is not yet come ; I must know the temper of a
weapon, ere I gird it on my thigh, and entrust
it with the safe keeping of my life. But I see
the recital of my wrongs has moved you ; nor
have I forgotten that 'twas to your bold exer-
tions I owed my liberation ; although you,
Coz, have since been tempted to overlook the
tyranny which hunted us, at the price of the
concession, from the lands of Navelles."
" I could easily forgive an infliction I was
conscious of having earned. While I admit
your wrongs to the full limit, I feel that my
mother's obligations should have taught me a
more respectful mode of resistance to the
Duke."
" Respectful ! — and to a dotard whose vulgar
clay was only animated into action by the heat
of his obstinate arrogance ! — Well ! well ! an
hour will come, when I shall grind that clay
into dust ! — and when his precious nephew, St.
THE TUILERTES. 191
Florentin, shall have humbly, and unsuccess-
fully sued for my patronage as a shoeblack, I
will save from starvation his mincing dame, —
who affects to shudder whenever she espies me
at any public meeting, — by promoting her to
the rank of my first sultana, — if indeed the post
be vacant."
A thousand lightnings flashed from the eyes
of Camille, and his clenched hand was invo-
luntarily raised as the ruffian uttered this in-
sulting menace ; but he retained sufficient self-
possession to detect, through the satanic smile
which lightened Maximilien's keen fixedness of
observation, that he was baited as a trial of
temper, — put upon the anvil in proof of his
real views and feelings. Satisfied of the neces-
sity of disguising from Maximilien the secret in-
tentions of his mind, he restrained his boiling in-
dignation, — hurried through a scarcely audible
excuse for his abrupt departure, — spoke of a
remembered engagement, — and was in the street
gasping for breath, before he had been able to
note the effect of his agitation on his wary
kinsman.
As he paced onwards with impetuous steps,
192 THE TUILERTES.
the laughter of fiends seemed to ring in his ears ;
mingled with the names of the victims they had
pre-doomed to ruin.
" I will save them !" said he between his
compressed lips, — " I will save them, let my
life, my fame, my honour, be the forfeiture of
their escape. Heaven be thanked, I had the
precaution to evade the snare so cunningly
spread by yonder villain ; and the courage to
blind his perception of my devotion to the
family he loads with execration. Another
minute in his presence would have effectually
betrayed me."
Poor Camille ! Unskilled in the arts of socie-
ty's tacticians, he knew not it was to his first
involuntary impulse, his premier mouvement,
that Maximilien's observation had been direct-
ed ; and that his fervent attachment to the St.
Florentins, — to Emiline, — had been as dis-
tinctly revealed, as by the most deliberate
avowal.
His precipitate flight was hailed by Maxi-
milien Valazy with a burst of triumphant
laughter.
" On my soul !" said he, " my cousin Camille
THE TUILERIES. 193
does not vary his bill of fare to suit the passing
season ; for my own part, I cannot fit my ap-
petite to such stale monotony. Pour moi,
toujours perdrix ne vaut rien /"
VOL. }.
194 THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER XIII.
Durante. C'est un bon bourgeois assez ridicule, comme
vous voyez, dans toutes ses manieres ; mais galant homme
tout a fait.
Dorimtne. II n'est pas malaise de s'en apercevoir.
MOLIERE.
To calm the perturbation of his mind by cast-
ing oil upon the troubled waves, Camille di-
rected his wandering steps towards the house of
old Delplanque ; who well deserved the acknow-
ledgment of a visit, although his officious ab-
surdity had in a great measure neutralized the
kindness of the attentions he had devoted to
Camille, during the illness which terminated
his former sojourn in Paris.
His name, however, no longer blazed in Go-
thic capitals over the door of the most sump-
tuous magazin of the Rue St. Honore ; another
mercer was brevet e in his stead. Curiosity,
THE TUILERIES. 195
mingled with some degree of interest, prompted
Camille to enter the shop, and inquire touch-
ing the removal and welfare of its former pro-
prietor, and of his daughter ; for as he as-
cended the steps, his mind involuntarily and
anxiously recurred to the declarations of Del-
planque to Madame de St. Florentin, of the
state of Euphroisine , s affections.
Neither the father nor the daughter, how-
ever, justified his apprehensions; — both were
alive and flourishing ; having changed their
abiding place, not for the church-yard of the
innocents, but for a comfortable mansion, —
entre cour etjardin, as the advertisements have
it, — and situated in the Quartier du Marais.
Awe-struck by the fate of Reveillon, the paper-
maker of the Faubourg St. Antoine, who had
been butchered during a wanton attack made
by the insurgents on his rich premises, the
mercer by appointment had emulated the wis-
dom of Camille, realized his capital, and retired
to such otium cum such dignitate, as the sub-
ordinate honours of the unfashionable neigh-
bourhood he had selected for his residence could
bestow.
k %
196 THE TUILERIES.
Valazy did not hesitate to push his voyage of
discovery towards those unknown regions which
the old man was fond of designating as his
modest retirement; and detected on his ar-
rival as complete an alteration in his appearance
as in his locale. The grey hairs which used
to be scrupulously powdered, and rolled in
buckle round his important face, now drooped
like useless streamers from a shattered wreck ;
his suit of brun de financier was exchanged
for a douillette of grey camlet ; and his ivory
measure for a watering-pot. Valazy found him
diligently occupied in placing labelled sticks to
the tulips in his garden ; — it reminded him, he
said, of affixing the tickets to his merceries;
but he gratefully renounced his employment,
and welcomed any interruption promising him
a listener.
" My excellent young friend — my dear Va-
lazy," said the old gentleman, conducting him
to his coziest arm-chair, and anticipating a
gossip of at least three hours' duration, " this
visit is indeed a nattering proof of your remem-
brance. Euphroisine ! Euphroisine ! appear,
my lovely girl ; here is our much-esteemed
THE TUILERIES. 197
friend from Lyons, who so often forms the sub-
ject of our conversations. My daughter not at
home? — So much the better — so much the
better ; we shall have time for an uninterrupted
discussion. Ah ! Monsieur Valazy, my good
young man, times are sadly altered with us !"
" I can scarcely consider them so, my dear
Sir," replied Camille, well aware that the de-
spondency of his host applied itself solely to his
individual plight, " since I find you so com-
fortably settled.' 1
" Why this house is, as you wisely observe,
tolerably distributed, and not ill decorated
You had always a taste, Monsieur Valazy,
although the advantage of an entree at court,
like mine, had not refined it to the highest pitch
of purity — "
" Like yours ! — True, Sir ! but it enables
me to do justice to the elegance of your do-
mestic arrangements," replied Camille, glancing
towards the chairs and sofas, from which the
cotton covers were never withdrawn, except
for the high solemnity of the weekly Boston,
which served to assemble the peaceable inhabi-
tants of the Marais, in Delplanque's unpara-
198 THE TUILEEIES.
goned saloon; rescuing his chandelier from its
canvas bag, and his mirrors from their tanta-
lizing veil of gauze. The admiring guest was
tempted to attribute the orderly array and
studied neatness of the little apartment to the
industry of Mademoiselle Euphroisine ; but
honesty, or jealousy, instigated the precise old
gentleman to appropriate the compliment.
The household order visible in his establish-
ment, he said, was the fruit of his own labours,
or rather, was " Feccpression de son oisiveie,"
for, as he had already observed, times were
sadly altered with him.
Altered, and abundantly, they certainly were.
Instead of beguiling his mornings in the pomp-
ous display of the silken glories of his counter,
to the fairest and noblest of the Parisian beau-
ties, feeding their folly with the genial nutri-
ment of flattery, and tempting them into waste-
ful profusion — a task for which he believed
himself eminently qualified by his intuitive
high-breeding, and intimate version of the eti-
quette of the court, — instead of lounging for
hours in an ante-chamber at Versailles, gather-
ing the whispers of fashionable scandal, which
THE TUILERIES. 199
he afterwards mysteriously unfolded over his
cafe a la crime to his friend and gossip of the
Rue St. Honor e, the wife of an opposite per-
fumer, he was now reduced to the compa-
rative dulness and obscurity of his own inde-
pendent home, his small mansion, and contract-
ed garden ; and the silver-mounted ivory mea-
sure with which he had been wont to count
brocaded ells to a lady in waiting, now served
to determine the sickly progress of a straggling
Coboea plant, which he was striving to coax
into verdure upon a glaring white boundary
wall.
" Yes, my dear friend !" pathetically ob-
served Delplanque, as he led Camille through
his miniature garden to a tawdry Chinese
alcove, which he qualified, in a Rousseau phrase,
as " the cherished refuge of his humble lei-
sure," — " I have, as you perceive, wholly re-
nounced the great world ; I have taken shelter
under the safeguard of a peaceable mediocrity.
These are no times for the exhibition and en-
joyment of commercial luxury, as my unhappy
friend Reveillon learnt at the cost of his exist-
ence ; and when the spirit of republican inso-
200 THE TUILERIES.
lence began to brave me across my own ma-
hogany counter, I resolved to escape with
honour from an unequal warfare, — to retire,
Monsieur Valazy, with dignity. Yes !" he
continued, lowering his voice into a tone mys-
teriously confidential, " it is a degrading fact
that the mistress of your vile kinsman — she
who is now femme-de-chambre to Madame de
St. Florentin — was deeper in my books in the
space of one month, than the whole united
Faubourg St. Germain !•
" How !" exclaimed Camille, remorselessly
interrupting Delplanque's course of argument ;
" How say you ! Flavie a confidential servant to
Madame de St. Florentin ? — Impossible !"
" Nothing is more sure. My successor, who
occasionally visits me in my rural retreat — my
Satin farm, as I call it — to remit a dividend of
his purchase-money, and — between ourselves —
to try and convert the residue to his own
account, in the shape of my Euphroisine's
dowry," added the ex-mercer, distorting his
meagre visagein to an attempt at a knowing look,
" my successor, Sir, informs me that the little
grisette, having exhausted Maximilien Valazy's
THE TUILEBIES. 201
available resources by her boundless extrava-
gance, and having been replaced in his affec-
tions by some opera dancer, was reduced to the
necessity of entering into service. Her father
being a tenant of the Due de Navelles, she
contrived to interest the kind and credulous
Marchioness in her favour, and impose herself,
with the aid of false certificates, upon her
acceptance, as an accomplished waiting woman."
" But her appearance — her effrontery."
" Let so accomplished an actress alone !
Attired in a robe a Venfant^ or a bavolette a
la villageoise, the part of a country girl be-
comes as easy as any other."
" But yourself, Monsieur Delplanque ! how
can you have permitted a being so pure as the
Marchioness de St. Florentin, to be polluted by
the touch of that abandoned woman ?"
" Calm yourself, my good Sir ! — Monsieur
Delplanque has his own safety, and that of his
daughter to care for, without running a tilt in
the cause of every gentle dame wearing satin
from his measure. 'Tis a serious matter to in-
terfere in the designs of the patriotic party ;
and my Euphroisine, who has tact and dis-
k 5
202 THE TUILERIES.
cernment which mark her as the daughter of
no ordinary parents, is persuaded that some un-
common inducement must have wrought upon
a being so selfish and arrogant as Mademoiselle
Flavie, to undertake a menial post; and that
her servitude only serves to mask the office of a
domestic spy. It is more than probable that
Maximilien Valazy has gathered valuable in-
telligence of the projects entertained at the
Tuileries, at the hands of his ci-devant mis-
tress."
" And you — you who affect a grateful devo-
tion to the house of Bourbon, have connived at
this infamous imposture ?"
" Mademoiselle Delplanque, contrary to my
express commands, thought fit to apprize the
Marchioness both of the fact, and of her own
suspicions ; but as to your inference, — my loy-
alty, Sir," continued the old gentleman, the-
atrically striking his breast, " my loyalty is,
thank God ! pure beyond impeachment.
Know, Sir, that the suspicion of Jacobinism,
which I incurred on the occasion of your un-
lucky vagary in the Royal Theatre, brought
on my unsuspecting innocence the whole horde
THE TUILERIES. 203
of patriots, in the hope that through the cession
of my books of credit, they should cajole me into
furnishing a popular accusation against her
Majesty's personal extravagance. — And what
was my alternative, Sir, in this trying exigency ?
— How did I escape the snare? — By burning
my books into ashes, Monsieur Valazy, like
the sybil of old. Yes ! Sir, I destroyed them,
although forming my sole bond of security for
a debt of twenty thousand franks ; — I destroyed
them with the magnanimity of an ancient
Roman !"
Exhausted by his own eloquence, Delplanque
had no leisure to comment on the fit of ab-
straction into which his guest had fallen during
his tirade ; and the entrance of Mademoiselle
Euphroisine opportunely afforded a new turn
to the conversation. Although Camille had
regarded her, during the short period of their
former acquaintance, with the most unobservant
indifference, the sentiments which her father
had persisted in ascribing to her, in his favour,
had exerted that influence over his feelings
which might be expected from the vanity of
human nature. His heart beat quicker as she
204 THE TUILER1ES.
approached; — and imperfectly as he was versed
in the catalogue of her external perfections,
he was struck with equal surprise and regret
on perceiving the alteration effected by two
short years upon her person. The joyous
smile of youth, and the flush of health, had
disappeared from her countenance; and although
they had left its noble outline still more pro-
minently apparent, the beauty by which she
was now distinguished was of a grave and lofty
character, and wholly unadapted to the expres-
sion of that melting tenderness, which, in spite
of his better reason, Camille Valazy had pre-
pared himself to trace in her demeanour.
Delplanque interrupted the complimentary
ceremonial of their meeting, by vociferous la-
mentations over the tenacity with which his
daughter allowed herself to cling to her early
associations.
" She cannot resolve, Monsieur Valazy, to
abandon the Faubourg St. Honore ; she cannot
exert her father's philosophy of mind, his su-
periority to the chains of habit ; and acquire
the unambitious humility of a bourgeoise du
Marais"
THE TUILERIES. 205
" Mademoiselle is probably aware how ear-
nestly her presence is still coveted in her former
home ;" replied Camille, with an affectation of
compliment, which was greeted by a most con-
temptuous glance on the part of Euphroisine.
" No !" said Delplanque, unconscious that
the assertion had already been silently but elo-
quently refuted, " No ! my daughter foolishly
disdains all intercourse with my worthy suc-
cessor ; who by the way, after all, is a mere
parvenu in commercial life."* "
" Good !" thought Valazy ; " there exists
then an ( ancienne noblesse du comptoir ! , "
" It is to a more noble quarter that the visits
of Euphroisine are addressed. Tell me, child —
rrCamie — ma poule — ma cocotte ! — tell me — have
you not passed the morning with Mademoi-
selle Bertin F"
" I have, Sir."
" Mademoiselle Bertin — modiste brevet ee de
la Reine f inquired Camille, repressing a
smile.
" A most faithful and devoted servant of her
Majesty,*" replied Mademoiselle Delplanque, in
206 THE TUILERIES. +
a voice whose firmness repelled all renewal of
ridicule on the part of Valazy.
" Ah ! I knew it— -I knew it," exclaimed her
father. " You are to understand, Valazy, that
this poor girl's affectionate heart is as fervently
devoted to the royal cause, as if the blood of a
Polignac flowed in her veins. Her mother, Sir,
had the honour of being attached to the ser-
vice of the late Dauphine, mother to our un-
happy sovereign ; and through this connexion I
have been favoured by the unintermitting pa-
tronage of the court of France. Euphroisine,
while still a child, attracted the notice of our
gracious Marie Antoinette, then hopeless of be-
coming herself a mother ; and the magic smiles
and endearing affability of the Queen, — which
could as surely raise an army, as did her Im-
perial parents intrepidity among her Hunga-
rian states of old, — have converted my poor girl
into a warm partizan of the royal cause. Now
from Mademoiselle Bertin she has the melan-
choly satisfaction of learning every particular
connected with the altered destinies of her mis-
tress ; and Euphroisine passes her days in ac-
THE TUILERIES. 207
quainting herself with the afflictions of the
Queen, and her nights in weeping over them."
Euphroisine rose from her seat, and began to
busy herself with the porcelain on the chim-
ney piece, in order to escape the look of interest
and approval with which she was now regarded
by Valazy.
" But," continued the wily mercer, re-awaken-
ed by these symptoms, to all his former designs
upon Camille, " I fear all this is not likely,
Monsieur Valazy, to cement a friendship be-
tween you and my daughter : you have a fa-
mily inclination, as I am but too well aware, to-
wards the popular cause."
" Nay !" replied Camille, smiling, " my po-
litics will no longer prove a motive of disunion
between Mademoiselle Delplanque and myself.
The time is past when Maximili en Valazy claimed
even the influence of an elder kinsman over my
bosom. I have long renounced my trust in him,
and in his patriotism."
" Bravo ! this is the best of good news.""
" A spirit of cruelty and evil has lately ma-
nifested itself which obviously arises from a
deeper source than the degradation or op-
208 THE TUILERTES.
pression of the populace ; and which satis-
fies me that the people of France are not
at present to be trusted with the unsheathed
sword of liberty ; for it is a weapon which fools
and children wield to their own destruction. Of
two evils, I prefer the tyranny of a despotic
monarch, even guided or misguided by a pro-
fuse and irresolute ministry, to that of the
many-headed monster — the plebeian million —
the self-constituted rulers, who boast neither
the qualifications of education, disinterested-
ness, nor responsibility, requisite to render their
yoke a safe or easy burthen."
" K'est on jamais tyran qu'avec un diademe?
is the apostrophe of their own favourite author ,"
observed Euphroisine half apart.
" This is a profession of political faith I little
expected from one of the name of Valazy. May
I trust that my opinions have in some small de-
gree influenced the amelioration of your own F"
said the mercer, smiling.
" It is the mischiefs revealed by the present
triumph of the Jacobin party, Monsieur Del-
planque, by which my opinions have been mo-
dified: 1
THE TUILERIES. 209
" You have surely engaged Monsieur Ca-
mille to partake of our family dinner ?" in-
quired Euphroisine of her father, with an ear-
nestness, upon the strength of which an invitation
was immediately given, and as promptly ac-
cepted ; and Delplanque, who, in the absence
of more active employments, presided over the
domestic arrangements of his household, now
departed to issue his mandates to the heads of
the various departments submitted to his su-
perintendence. His zeal was not altogether gra-
tuitous in the present instance ; for he had the
satisfaction of leaving his guest and his daughter
tete-a-tete.
210 THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER XIV.
D'ou tenez vous, dans ce sejour obscur
Un ton si noble — un langage si pur 1
Partout on a de l'esprit ; c'est l'ouvrage
De la nature, et, c'est votre partage :
Mais l'esprit seul, sans education
X'a jamais eu ni ce tour, ni ce ton.
Voltaire.
As soon as he had left the room, Euphroisine,
taking some work into her hands, seated herself
at the table immediately opposite Camille ;
and with an air of calmness and self-decision,
very different from that she had hitherto worn
in his presence, entered into conversation on
some subject of general interest ; but scarcely
had she uttered a few words, when, covering
her face with her hands, she suddenly burst into
tears.
" Do not mistake this emotion, Monsieur
THE TUILERIES. 211
Valazy, for an effusion of idle sentiment, 1 ' said
she, at length by an anxious effort recovering
her composure. " I came home agitated and
harassed by some public intelligence of an
afflicting nature which I had just received; and
the surprise occasioned by your sudden and
most unexpected declaration of loyalty, and the
joy with which I know it will be welcomed by
more than one of my illustrious friends, over-
came my firmness. Did you but know — could
you but imagine the straits to which they have
been reduced for want of confidential agents,
you might better judge the value they affix to
the acquisition of an honest heart and ready
hand. In these times of irresolution and tergi-
versation, it is difficult to know our friends
from our enemies ; but the candour, the manli-
ness of your declaration to my father, assures
me that the Marquise de St. Florentin was not
mistaken in her high reliance upon your loy-
alty and worthiness of trust."
" Madame de St. Florentin !"
" My father has made you acquainted with
the fervour of my sympathy in the royal cause;
212 THE TUILERIES.
but he has not told you all ; — he is old and
timid, incapable of active agency, — nay, even of
active self-defence. I have therefore judged it
neither necessary nor prudent to implicate him in
a cause which has already proved fatal to many
of its adherents. My own safety I feel justified
in perilling at my own will ; and your recent pro-
fessions induce me to confess that it is eternally
bound up in the fortunes of the royal family. 1 '
" To a degree, no doubt, far beyond that
assigned by Monsieur Delplanque?"
" Ay, even unto life and death ! — But before
I entrust myself more explicitly to your ho-
nour, grant me one word of assurance, that Ma-
dame de St. Florentine pledge was not rashly
given ; and that you will guard in holiest secrecy
all I am about to commit to your keeping. °
" You require a blind vow, Mademoiselle ; —
yet demanded in a name so precious to my heart,
— to my gratitude, — I shall nevertheless freely
concede my promise. There is my hand,'" said
Camille bluntly, " and I swear upon it invio-
lable secrecy and exclusive devotion to the —
cause."
THE TUILERIES. 213
Euphroisine modestly, but wholly without
affectation, placed her own in that of Valazy.
" I accept the compact ; and be it prospered
by the guardianship of Heaven !" said she, re-
assuming the seat from which she had half
arisen.
Camille still looked towards her for explana-
tion : " You will not be surprised, Monsieur
Valazy, , ' ) she resumed, " that my deep, my un-
qualified devotion to the suffering House of
Bourbon at this cruel juncture, should have
secured me the confidence of many, or most of
its female adherents. Among the most distin-
guished of these, the Marquise de St. Floren-
tin honours me with her especial favour ; and
the fidelity with which I reverence, and love,
and devote myself to her service, arise no less
from her involvement in the interests of our
unhappy mistress, than from the attractive qua-
lities of her own disposition. It is scarcely a
week since —but pardon me — to render myself
intelligible, I should acquaint you that the
visits so lamented by my father, are not ad-
dressed to the abode of Mademoiselle Bertin,
but to the chateau of the Tuileries itself; — it is
214 THE TUILERIES.
scarcely a week ago, that I heard you recom-
mended, in the most urgent terms, to her Ma-
jesty, by Madame de St. Florentin."
" To the Queen — and by Emiline ?"
" A trusty messenger was required, to be-
come the bearer of a despatch to the Emperor ;
he became incapacitated by illness ; and, among
all her servants — among all those who had been
raised, and enriched, and rendered graceless by
her benefits — there was not one to whom Ma-
rie Antoinette could confide an affair of so
much delicacy. She appealed to Madame la
Marquise for aid and counsel : she demanded
whether there existed no one over whom she was
conscious of possessing unlimited influence ; —
one "
" She named me ! — say that she deigned to
name her foster-brother — that she remembered
Camille only as the most humble, the most de-
voted of her slaves !" exclaimed Valazy, rising
and approaching the astonished Euphroisine
with an air of wild animation.
A vivid crimson overspread her fair face;
and as it died away, still left an intense streak
on her previously pale cheeks. " Be satis-
THE TUILERIES. 215
fied ! — she did name her foster-brother, and with
the fondest reliance on his excellence — his
loyalty. But scarcely had she uttered the name
of Valazy, when every voice was raised against
her rashness. Of the ladies of the court pre-
sent at the discussion, two persisted in con-
founding you with your traitor cousin ; and
the third vehemently recalled you to the remem-
brance of her Majesty, as the spectator whose
indecorous deportment in the Theatre at Tria-
non excited for a time so much anxiety. I was
then on my knees before the Queen, occupied
in the adjustment of her robe — for it is in the
capacity of Bertin's favourite apprentice alone,
that I am admitted to the happiness of waiting
on my illustrious patroness — and Madame
de St. Florentin, who was aware that my father
conducted you to Versailles on the evening
in question, deigned to appeal to my testimony
in your behalf."
" And you gave it, Mademoiselle ? — "
" Unhesitatingly, as regarded your innocence
in that particular; but conscious of so slight
an acquaintance with your principles and cha-
racter, you will acknowledge that it would
216 THE TUILERIES.
have been a vain presumption on my part, to
confirm the Marchioness's declarations of your
unqualified loyalty to the House of Bourbon."
" I was therefore suffered to share the igno-
miny of my Jacobin kinsman ?""
" Fortunately another courier was selected
for the service of the day. But I overheard
the Queen whispering to Madame de St. Flo-
rentin when they parted, ' You must find me this
Camille of yours ; for I am more than inclined
to trust to your recommendation. I am per-
suaded that the services of my Emiline's foster-
brother would not be withheld from his Queen
in the time of trouble. I pray you sound his
views and principles, and if you discover them
to be such as we could wish, let me hear more
of him:'
" And wherefore has not Madame la Mar-
quise deigned to comply with her Majesty's
directions ?"
" By her express commands, I addressed a
letter to you on that same day, imploring your
presence at Paris. My letter, Monsieur Va-
lazy, was returned unopened."
THE TU1LERTES. 217
" I must have quitted Lyons previous to the
honour of your communication."
" Madame has subsequently prosecuted her
inquiries through another channel. Since the
evil spirit of the times, spreading its pestilent
infection through the interposition of your
kinsman, manifested itself on the estates of
the Due de Navelles — his confidential steward
— Laporte, I think, by name — has been re-
ceived into the establishment of the Mar-
chioness, as a happy shelter for his old age.
From him, the St. Florentin family learned with
regret that you had removed your mother from
Grand Moulin, without yielding the smallest
clue to your future residence or future plans ;
and this abrupt measure they naturally re-
garded as an act of personal unkindness."
" Yet it was urged only by the most anxious
regard for themselves — for their own ultimate
safety."
" I must leave you to exculpate yourself on
this occasion to the Marchioness. This very
morning I have been engaged in giving an ac-
count of my execution of a commission, with
which I had the honour of being charged by Ma-
VOL. I. L
218 THE TUILERIES.
dame Thibaut, I was leaving the Chateau, when
Madame la Marquise, whom I passed in the
ante-room, detained me to observe, ' I fear, Ma-
demoiselle, I was rash in the pledge I ventured
to offer her Majesty for the dutiful services of
Camille Valazy. I can obtain no trace of my
poor Madelon ; — can you, Euphroisine, afford
me no clue to her retreat F* I assured her that
since your last visit to Paris, I had scarcely
even heard you named ; but Madame — I know
not why — smiled incredulously as she patted me
on the cheek. ' I will not despair, 1 she said.
' I will still trust to recover my good brother
through your agency. 1 Ah ! how little, how
very little, when I entered this house on my re-
turn, did I expect so immediate a fulfilment of
her expectations. 11
" Yet your manner of address — pardon me,
Mademoiselle — evinced little pleasure in the re-
cognition.' 1
" Nay I 11 replied Euphroisine, smiling for
the first time since their interview, " recollect
that I had no reason to share Madame de St.
Florentine partial interpretation of your views
and proceedings. 11
THE TUILERIES. 219
" I am at least grateful that you have amend-
ed your judgment ; and have now only to im-
plore that you will lose no time in satisfying
the Marquise de St. Florentinof my absolute, my
sacred devotion to the cause she advocates.
You have vouchsafed to give me your hand,
Mademoiselle, as the pledge of a loyal heart : —
assure yourself that with mine, you have re-
ceived my vows of homage and allegiance to
the royal cause; and that such aid and exertions
as may be required in its name, shall never be
reluctantly granted by Camille Valazy."
The treaty thus cavalierly proposed, was
scarcely ratified by the prompt acceptance of
the delighted Euphroisine, when the re-entrance
of old Delplanque, pinked and powdered, and
re-installed in the habit brun de financier ; put
an end to all confidential discussion between the
parties. With good-humoured chiding, he de-
spatched his daughter to her toilet, preparatory
to the announcement of dinner ; while a know-
ing smile affected to betray his participation in
the state of affairs between her and his evidently
agitated guest.
The disordered attire and dishevelled tresses
l 2
220 THE TUILERIES.
of Euphroisine manifested, on her return, how
moderately she shared either the coquetry of her
sex, or the designs of her father. Throughout
the meal, she remained silent, pre-occupied,
and mournful ; and when, on her father's
proposing the health and restoration to happi-
ness of Louis and his family, Camille Valazy
warmly accepted the pledge, and hallowed its
meaning by a profound obeisance towards herself,
the agitated girl was fairly driven from the table
by the struggle of her emotions.
She re-appeared only to bid Camille farewell
at the moment of departure. " I will meet you
to-morrow at eleven," she whispered, " on the
Boulevard de la Reine." And her tone was so
distinct from that of levity or sentiment, that
even the vainest of men could not have misin-
terpreted the character of her communication.
" This is indeed a season calculated to mature
the growth of heroism,'" thought Camille, as he
slowly returned towards his lodgings ; " nor can
I reasonably wonder that women and girls .as-
sume the energy of manhood, when men ac-
quire the qualities of beasts of prey. I will
take, at least, no step till I have received further
THE TUILERIES. 221
counsel from this devoted adherent to the falling
cause of royalism ; or further insight into the
views of those who are still dearer to my heart.* 11
The young provincial, in traversing the
most frequented quarter of the metropolis,
was astonished to perceive how little its ex-
ternal surface demonstrated the commotions
secretly stirring within its dark recesses. Ele-
gant equipages, smiling faces, rich repositories of
art and fashion, — announcements of public diver-
sions, of mountebank feats, and theatrical re-
presentations — still greeted him, as of old, in
every crowded street. There was not a careful
countenance, or a gloomy object, to be detected
in that city, wherein projects of death and deso-
lation were hourly devised and perpetrated;
and wherein the descendants of two ancient
houses of royalty were condemned to unre-
mitting endurance of the most grievous humi-
liations.
The members of the National Assembly were
eagerly pouring forth from their seance as Va-
lazy pursued his way across the Place de Louis
XV.; and amid their noisy disorder, lie dis-
cerned a group formed chiefly of the friends
222 THE TUILERIES.
and associates of his cousin Maximilien ; but
too deeply engaged in their own vociferous
argumentations to observe his vicinity. " Alas !
that their predictions should have been so
speedily verified !" was his own melancholy
apostrophe, as he gazed upon the precincts of
the degraded palace of the Tuileries, (now oc-
cupied by the National Guard;) and reflected
on the altered destinies of the royal family —
its tenants on compulsion. Depressed and per-
plexed in his mind, he took refuge from such
afflicting contemplations in his own obscure
lodging; and the only agreeable impression
which haunted his mind on retiring to his
pillow, was of the part taken by Madame de
St. Florentin in his defence.
THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER XV.
If they who on thy state attend,
Awe-struck before thy presence bend,
Tis but the natural effect
Of grandeur that insures respect ;
But she is something more than queen,
Who is beloved where never seen.
Cowper,
The following morning, Valazy failed not to
keep time and place in his appointment with
Euphroisine; and scarcely had he begun to
thread the jostling groups of the crowded
Boulevard, when he perceived her coming
slowly towards him, — but without a veil, or any
attempt at disguise.
" If the eyes of an enemy should be upon
us," observed Euphroisine, unhesitatingly ac-
cepting his arm, " this meeting will be attri-
224 THE TUILEIUES.
buted to motives of gallantry — our best pre-
servative against other, and more important
suspicions. And while I know your affections
to be devoted, however sinfully, to another, —
pardon me, Monsieur Valazy, that I have pene-
trated your secret — and my own to be exclu-
sively engrossed by those whose present sorrows
form the disgrace of my native land, no incon-
venience can accrue to either from such a mis-
construction. — And what are name and fame,
when balanced against a sense of duty ? —
Banishing, therefore, every feeling of embar-
rassment arising from our sex and age, I
hail you henceforward as the brother of my
hopes."
There were many things in this speech which
jarred against the prejudices and the self-love
of Camille. He was inclined to resent the
peremptory decision of tone with which his
young companion alluded to that secret of his
heart, which he was disposed to guard with be-
coming susceptibility ; and he felt piqued at
the air of superiority with which she assigned
the boundaries of their own relative positions.
There was something, however, so mournfully
THE TUTLERIES. 225
grave, so free from all petulance in her manner,
that an avowal of displeasure would have
rendered him ridiculous.
" I accept," said he, after a short pause,
tc I cordially accept the trust you are willing
to repose in me. You do me honour in be-
lieving, on such slight grounds, that my views
and feelings are honest as your own ; and, as
your own, fervently devoted to those whom a
long line of sovereigns has bequeathed to our
loyalty and affection You do me honour by
your trust ; — and may God desert me when I
fail to deserve it V
Camille thought he could discern that the
steps of his companion trod with a lighter
buoyancy as he uttered these words ; and as she
had now insensibly directed their course to-
wards the very outskirts of the throng, he was
about to profit by this moment of seclusion, and
enter into a detail of the projects that had
brought him to Paris, when Euphroisine, ap-
parently unconscious of his intention, resumed
her former tone of dictation.
" The dove, Monsieur Valazy, need not dis-
dain to gather wisdom from the serpent ; — to es-
l5
226 THE TUILEETES.
cape the snare and the pitfall, craft must match
with craft, and the movements of our warfare
keep pace and quality with those of the enemy. ""
" Mademoiselle speaks in terms of an able
tactician."
" Mademoiselle speaks in humble scholarship
to those who, from the importance of their
stake, must needs have acquainted themselves
with every turn of the game. But I lose time
in circumlocution ; — I came not hither to dissert,
— but to acquaint you with your appointed duty."
" Leaving, I conclude, to myself," interrupted
Camille with some degree of irritation, " the
liberty of action."
" Nay ! that you have already remitted, in
your vow of allegiance to your Queen and to her
cause."
" Indeed ! — I was hardly conscious "
" Pardon me ; — you may perhaps spare your
resistance by listening to the detail of that line
of duty, which I have been instructed to impose
upon you. My father, I find, acquainted you
yesterday with the advantages derived by your
cousin and his party from the confidential post
allotted to one of their creatures, — an unfortu-
THE TUILEllIES. 227
nate girl named Flavie, — in the family of the
Marquis de St. Florentin. ' Better a friend in
the enemy's camp,'' says the proverb, ' than
two at home.'' "
" I surely miscomprehend you," exclaimed
Camille, raising his voice to a pitch of indiscreet
indignation. " I surely mistake your intention,
in believing that you would assign to me, — to
we, — the part of a spy — of an eaves' dropping
traitor "
" Let me beg that you will not vent your
heroism quite so loudly. I am simply in-
structed, but not by the Marquise de St. Flo-
rentin, to request that you will immediately
cause yourself to be enrolled in the National
Guard. Your cousin's recognizance will readily
obtain you the notice of Lafayette; and thus by
attaining the right of occasional access to the
palace, you will supply a medium of unsus-
pected communication between their Majesties
and those friends whose safety might be com-
promised by overt intercourse."
" Unconscious as I am, at present, of the
duties undertaken and the oaths required in the
act of enrolment, it is impossible to comply with
228 THE TUILEJUES.
youi* somewhat imperious request. My own
immediate views entirely coincide with the
measure you propose ; but I have yet to learn
whether a soldier of the National Guard can
honourably become an emissary of "
" His anointed king ? — You must understand
that fatal watchword La Nation rather in its
factious than in its reasonable sense, if you
suppose its authority can supersede that of
its lawful sovereign, — of your own ! — Your
scruple, however, is an honourable weakness,
although one which better reflection cannot
fail to disarm."
" Heaven mend the times !" thought Camille,
as he walked on for some minutes in silent per-
plexity ; " for all the brains in the land seem
set a gadding ! — some demon, weary of organ-
izing the cabals of his Pandemonium, has in-
fected every spirit in Paris with this mania for
ascendency and intrigue. Yesterday, Maximi-
lien, — my fellow and equal in rustic insigni-
ficance, — talks to me as though his brutal foot
were already upon the neck of his king; — to-
day, a girl, — a mercer's daughter, — a child in
experience of the world, — assumes the tone of a
THE TUILERIES. 229
chancellor, — a minister of. state, — a regal am-
bassador, — affecting to regulate my conscience
and her Majesty's councils ! Plague on the
presumption of both ! "
" I might perhaps startle you into inconsi-
derate acquiescence, ,, resumed Euphroisine in
a tranquil tone, u by claiming it through the
influence and in the name of the Marchioness
de St. Florentin ; but every womanly feeling
rises against such an abuse of my sex's preroga-
tive. I should scorn to win through the
ascendency of a lawless and unsanctioned pas-
sion, those concessions which you withhold
from a young, a beautiful, an innocent queen ;
— from a wife and mother of the royal House of
Bourbon, — now, alas ! — most injured and most
unhappy !"
" I withhold nothing," exclaimed Camille,
" except the blind sacrifice of my right of
option. I have already sworn my allegiance to
the royal cause — to myself — to God! — I now
repeat it to you, Mademoiselle Euphroisine;
and I pray you to become the interpreter of my
good intentions, in the quarter whence they
have been commanded."
230 THE TUILERIES.
" The Marchioness de St. Florentin is for
the present occupied in conducting the infirm
Duke her father, from his disturbed estate at
Navelles to a chateau .possessed by the Marquis
in the vicinity of Meaux ; and it is her inten-
tion to prolong her visit to the utmost, in order
to dissuade him by her presence from inter-
mingling in scenes and measures, pursued in the
capital by those to whom his age and infir-
mities would afford an unfair advantage.
A circumstance, however, of the greatest mo-
ment — one which at present I have no commands
to entrust to your knowledge, — will shortly
require the presence of Madame la Marquise at
Paris ; when you will have an opportunity of
framing your own vindication, and receiving
your credential, from herself: — at present she
remains ignorant of your arrival in Paris."
Camille fancied that his companion was try-
ing to obtain a view of his countenance while
she vouchsafed this explanation; and, deter-
mined to mark his indifference to her scrutiny,
he turned calmly towards her, thereby acquir-
ing the further certitude that a tinge of scorn
tempered the expression of her curiosity.
THE TUILERIES. 231
" I shall have the honour, then, of being ad-
mitted to an interview with the playmate of my
childhood — my mother's honoured and honour-
able charge ?" he observed, attempting to
characterize the nature of his devotion to
Emiline.
A smile of deeper disdain evinced Euphroi-
sine's detection of the subterfuge. st In the
mean time," she replied, with marked emphasis,
" since you have so lofty a superiority to dis-
sembling, even in a good cause, suffer me to
forewarn you that you will find at the Hotel
St. Florentin a personal enemy — a subtle and
an observant one."
" Your allusion to Mademoiselle Flavie au-
thorizes me to inquire how, and wherefore, you
have permitted a virtuous woman, of whom you
speak with veneration and regard, to retain in
her service a being so degraded as the para-
mour of Maximilien Valazy ?"
" Madame de St. Florentin is now well
aware of the character of her attendant. My
intelligence unfortunately came too late ;• and
it would be madness to draw down just now the
malicious vengeance of an infuriated Jacobin,
232 THE TUILERIES.
by a hasty dismissal of his envoy. Besides,
material advantages have been already obtained
at the chateau, by putting this spy of la nation
on a wrong scent. We must trust to your
address to escape a similar snare, when you do
us the service of obtaining secret information
from your trusty kinsman. n
" Pardon me ; again you misinterpret my in-
tentions, or would affix a false limit to the
duties I have undertaken. No consideration
would induce me to provoke a confidence of
which I premeditated the betrayal. It is only
the intelligence which comes accidentally to my
knowledge, I shall feel at liberty to offer to
your advantage; nor should I endure the
thought of a fictitious adoption of the views of
the patriotic faction, did I not regard it as the
only available means of benefiting V He
hesitated.
" Speak out, Sir ! You have nothing to fear
from my comments or misconstruction — of bene-
fiting, you would say the Marquise de St. Flo-
rentin. Well ! make what compromise you can
between your devotion to her interests, — those
of the throne and the altar of your native coun-
THE TUILERIES. 233
try, — and your own peevish code of honour.
For me, 11 she added emphatically, " I have but
one law, — one principle — one duty; — even that
which includes an unlimited devotion unto my
God, my country, and my old father."
Camille Valazy looked earnestly into Euphroi-
sine's countenance as she uttered these words ;
and was almost startled to find there the same
feminine delicacy of feature, and dove-like gen-
tleness of eye, it had worn at the period
when he regarded it as the index of a tri-
fling and feeble mind. In spite of her noble
regularity of feature, Mademoiselle Delplanque
had something peculiarly girlish in her air and
figure ; a fragility amounting to insignificance.
Yet under the admonition of those youthful and
uncharactered lips, the spirit of Valazy was
daunted.
" I read your thoughts," she resumed; —
" you marvel at my boldness ; at the reckless-
ness of public opinion which has engaged me in
a furtive interview with a comparative stranger
— and above all, which has taught me to dis-
pense with the authority of my father."
234) THE TUILERIUS.
Camille felt the tremulous motion of the arm
which rested upon his own.
u Yet am I neither over-bold, nor indifferent
to the suffrage of the world ; which guards
by a minor but indispensable bond the moral
existence of my sex. An era of general disorder
has begun ; and I cease to blame myself for
my disregard of common fame, and the good re-
port of the multitude, when I perceive that an
inordinate value for these has left the purlieus of
my sovereign's palace open to my approach.
Had not the fickle parasites of Versailles looked
rather to the seeming than to the truth of things,
Marie Antoinette of France had not needed the
reluctant services which I, the lowliest of her
partizans, am come to crave of you in her
name. 1 '
She paused in evident emotion ; and Camille
Valazy was about to make an elaborate decla-
ration of his confidence in the purity of her mo-
tives and actions, when she hastened to inter-
rupt him.
" It is enough, Sir V* said she. " I seek no
commendations, and least of all from one whom
THE TU1LERIES. 235
I regard as lukewarm in a cause which might
surely animate all the energies of manhood in a
generous bosom.""
It was now Camille's turn to redden at her
insinuation.
"Farewell ! Monsieur Valazy P she immedi-
ately rejoined, hastily disengaging her arm, and
without listening to his rejoinder. " When you
have pinned the badge of treason on your sleeve,
I trust your wounded pride will not prevent
you from visiting my father, and seeking those
further instructions of which I shall probably
become the means of communication. Remem-
ber that their urgency will brook no trifling,
and no delay.'"
So saying, she passed abruptly from his
side, and turning into an adjoining street, was
out of sight in a moment.
" Am I awake ?" thought Valazy, as he pur-
sued his solitary way; " am I in my right
senses, or is she ? — Delplanque's daughter, the
mincing minaudiere of the Theatre of Trianon,
to become the delegate of a crowned head ! —
The Queen — Emiline — to consort with a sim-
ple tradesman's daughter P
236 THE TUILERIES.
The remembrance of his frequent advocacy
of the equality of human rights and human
virtues, suddenly jarred upon his mind ; and a
consciousness of the superiority of the being
with whom he had been recently conversing — a
superiority not unqualified by feminine delicacy
and gentleness — reproved his apostacy from his
earlier faith. He confessed to himself, mean-
while, that to become the faithful emissary of
Madame de St. Florentin — the chosen brother
of Euphroisine — were distinctions not unpro-
mising for his own future happiness.
THE TUILERIES. 237
CHAPTER XVI.
Servi siam si, — ma servi ognor frementi.
Alfieri.
It was at this juncture that the difficul-
ties, the humiliations, and cruelties, progres-
sively inflicted on the royal family, secured
the end anticipated by their persecutors; —
by rendering their projects desperate, and in-
citing them to some rash movement, suf-
ficiently unpopular to warrant unqualified im-
prisonment. The unfortunate Louis hazarded
a tardy sanction to the scheme concocted be-
tween his anxious family and the Marquis de
Bouille, and attempted to secure their general
safety, by seeking refuge in a strong out-
post, on the frontier of his agitated kingdom.
The Marquis de St. Florentin, who, at the
earnest request of the Queen, had charged
238 Tilt: TUILERIES.
himself with the cypher transmitting the pre-
arrangement of the plan to Bouille, who, as
governor of Metz and Alsace, might be con-
sidered as viceroy over the north-eastern fron-
tier, vainly represented to the King, that his
sole chance of reaching Montmedy, the ap-
pointed fortress, was by the route of Flanders.
" I know," replied his Majesty, " to what
misinterpretation my conduct is subjected; and
it shall never be said, that I abandoned my
kingdom through tenderness for my personal
safety : — I will not set my foot on any other soil
than that of France."".* And thus the same
deference to public opinion, the same timid ap-
prehension of wounding the prejudices of a
nation whose every hand and every voice was
active against his peace, — became anew, and for
the last time, a sunken rock, to wreck the frail
vessel, which might perhaps have still wea-
thered the storm of revolutionary excitement.
The passport which had been procured by
St. Florentin, with the greatest difficulty and
address, was consequently given up to Mon-
sieur, who was sufficiently fortunate to reach
* Historical.
THE TUILER1ES. 239
the frontier without molestation ; while the
Marquis, dispirited by a change of plan so
fatal to his hopes, applied himself to the dif-
ficult task of seeking a new passport, which
might conduct the royal party by the Chalons
road. Having been once more successful in the
attempt, it was agreed that he should accom-
pany the fugitives as far as the post from
which Bouille, without exciting suspicion on
the spot, might secure their further progress,
by the convoy of a detachment of the troops
under his command.
A cypher of assent to this new scheme of
co-operation, had been received from the Mar-
quis de Bouille, — one of the purest and most
unyielding royalists still retaining their faith-
ful allegiance to a monarch, whom evil fortune
had in some degree rendered an apostate to his
own cause, and driven into a renouncement of
that prerogative, which his adherents still as-
serted in his name. The strictest secrecv had
been observed throughout the progress of these
negociations ; the very household of the Queen
remained wholly unsuspicious of her intentions;
for repeated betrayal had insinuated general
240 THE TUILE1UES.
mistrust into a mind originally candid even
to imprudence; and the most sanguine hopes
began to renovate those drooping hearts which
had long been steeped in the bitter tears of
humiliation.
The Queen, with prudent foresight, having
appropriated to the use of her daughter, a cham-
ber belonging to a vacant suite of apartments,
whence an unsuspected door opened to the
court-yard of the Tuileries, it was now re-
solved that the royal party, including their
Majesties, Madame Elizabeth, the Dauphin,
and his sister, should singly escape through
this obscure issue, at eleven o'clock at night ;
— (an hour when they were especially free
from household attendance) — and severally
reach an appointed spot, where the travelling
carriage assigned to their use, with St. Flo-
rentin and two gentlemen of the body-guard,
disguised as attendants, would be in waiting to
receive them. So judiciously were these and
other minor arrangements concerted, that had
it not been for a lamentable, but unavoid-
able postponement in the outset of the expedi-
tion, through which the troops stationed for
THE TUILKfilES. 241
their protection were compelled, by the suspi-
cions of the mob, to desert their post previous
to the arrival of the disguised fugitives, there
can be little doubt that the ultimate safety of
Louis XVI. and his unfortunate family would
have been secured on this critical occasion.
It was with a view of aiding the progress of
an undertaking requiring the stanchest fidelity
in those admitted as its agents, that Madame
de St. Florentin had intrusted to her enthusi-
astic protegee the delicate task of engaging the
services of her foster-brother in its furtherance.
But among the calamities endangering the suc-
cess of every secret undertaking, at that epoch,
was the general mistrust and surveillance which
rendered communication and mutual under-
standing among the parties concerned, difficult
on all occasions, and on some impossible.
From the period when Euphroisine suc-
ceeded in attaching Camille Valazy to the party
and pressing interests of her benefactress, the
vigilance of the treacherous Flavie intercepted
all means of intelligence between them ; and the
Marchioness, who had been absent from Paris,
and was ignorant of the part taken by Valazy,
VOL. i. m
242 THE TUILERIES.
was at times tempted to believe that Euphroisine
might have proved untrue to her cause.
On the morning of the fatal 21st of June, the
arrival of a strange emissary on the part of
Mademoiselle Bertin, in place of Euphroisine,
who had undertaken to become the messenger
announcing the final appointment of Marie An-
toinette, satisfied her that either treachery or
some grievous misfortune had deprived her of
her energetic and favourite assistant. Her fears
even induced her, for a moment, to accuse Ca-
mille as being the possible origin of her dis-
affection or mischance ; but apprehension for
the safety of those she loved — her husband and
her sovereign — quickly obliterated all other
considerations ; and she soon forgot both him
and her own suspicions.
Meanwhile Camille obeyed, with diligence
and exactness, the instructions he had re-
ceived from a source, and through a mediator,
so interesting to his feelings. He had passed
through the ordeal of Maximilien Valazy's sus-
picious scrutiny ; who, nothing doubting that
his kinsman entertained an ultimate and unac-
knowledged object for his sudden exertions,
THE TUILERIES. 243
subjected him to a severe cross-examination in
the course of his very first interview with La
Fayette. The result, however, was favourable
to himself; for the general, anxious to secure
the voices of the more respectable citizens, and
to surround his person with active and able
coadjutors, instantly distinguished the manly
and intelligent spirit characterizing the young
aspirant for the honours of the civic guard. He
promised, and speedily redeemed his word, to
have an eye to his advancement.
Scarcely had Camille invested himself in the
accoutrements of his new vocation, when he
hastened to fulfil the expectations of those to
whose aid its services were secretly dedicated,
by presenting himself at the house of Del-
plan que. He did not, however, succeed in gain-
ing access to the presence of Euphroisine ; and
his suspicions being at length awakened by the
pertinacity with which, day after day, he was
refused admittance, he had recourse to an uni-
versal method of insinuation, and by a douceur
to the surly domestic Cerberus of the ew-mercier,
obtained some insight into this ill-timed and
perplexing mystery.
m 2
^44 THE TUILERIES.
On the very day of his last interview with Ma-
demoiselle Delplanque, she had been denounced
to the National Assembly as a disaffected person,
and a secret agent of Marie Antoinette ; and as
the period had not yet arrived when persons
could be arrested and imprisoned on such invalid
suspicions, her effects were subjected, in the first
instance, to the domiciliary inquisition of the mu-
nicipal officers. But thanks to her own foresight
and presence of mind, nothing was detected that %
could substantiate the charge; and after a slight,
but vexatious public examination, she was set
at liberty.
To Euphroisine herself, this transitory trial
appeared but a trifling sacrifice towards the
mighty cause in which she was engaged. She
had been harassed and insulted, it was true ;
but the remembrance of Marie Antoinette, and
of the humiliations to which she had been sub-
jected, hushed every murmur upon her lip*.
Not so old Delplanque ; — his selfishness had en-
listed itself in no party — acknowledged no in-
fluence ; nor was he susceptible of the least
enthusiasm of spirit, to smooth the path of
martyrdom. The ensanguined ghosts of Rt •
THE TUILERIES. 245
veillon, and Berthier, and Foulon, arose in his
memory, the moment that a shouting populace
cheered the entrance of the minions of the law
into his dwelling ; — he had wit enough to per-
ceive that the extreme loveliness of Euphroisine,
and her noble deportment under the examina-
tion of the Assembly, had attracted general at-
tention towards his daughter and his ducats ; —
and he had no mind to be despoiled of either in
favour of some beggarly democrat, who affected
to be " wise," and had u never seen the Lou-
vre." Elated beyond his hopes by the speedy
enlargement of Euphroisine, whom no evidence
could be found to criminate, he instantly re-
solved to secure the further safety of both by
emigration, although not in its most extended
sense.
Presenting the true ideal of a Parisian cock-
ney, a badaud of most contracted perceptions,
the capital was his country, — his patrie — the
Marais his city of refuge from the commotions
of the court ; and in deserting them all for the
wilderness of his native province, he became
as very an emigrant as any Polignac or d'Artois
of them all ! Within twenty-four hours of Eu
246 THE TUILKRIES.
phroisine's liberation, he was on the road
towards Arras, to place himself and his daughter
under the protection of his only brother; a
flourishing merchant, whose influence was great
in that city, " whatsoever king might reign."
Vain was the resistance — vain the tears and
entreaties of his agonized child. The first he
met by parental authority, the second by the
tenderest expostulations ; and Euphroisine was
forced to repress her glowing loyalty, and stifle
the sense of her importance to her royal mis-
tress, in the dread that her father's timid ego-
tism might betray them, to the utter perdition
of the royal cause. And thus, with a heart
broken by grief and anxiety, she was fain to
accompany the abdicated mercer to Arras ;
where he trusted, unknown and unsuspected,
to dream away the gloomy night which obscured
the face of public affairs^ and the brilliant pros-
pects of the capital.
" And did Mademoiselle Delplanque leave
no letter for me — no communication p* 1 inquired
Camille.
" Mademoiselle, I flatter myself, is too dis-
creet to correspond with strange gentlemen ."
THE TUILER1ES. 247
" And her father — did Monsieur mention no
commission for me to execute ?"
u None !" replied the dull and uncommuni-
cative domestic. " But now I think on 't,
Mademoiselle requested you would take charge
of a pot of carnations which stood in her
chamber."
" And why did you not immediately forward
it to me V*
" For what purpose ? I have watered it
daily, and 'tis a poor sickly plant, without a
single flower."
" Nevertheless I am bound to comply with
the commands of Mademoiselle, and to charge
myself with her commission."
" As you please, Sir," said the sulky por-
ter's wife ; " but you may assure yourself that
I have both leisure and zeal to look to Mam'selle
Euphroisine's flowers. 1 '
Valazy, persuaded that some peculiarity was
attached to the gift, instantly conveyed it in
a fiacre to his lodgings ; with eager anxiety
lest some official interruption should separate
him from that which he regarded as a sacred
248 THE TUILERIES.
deposit. Having arrived without hindrance in
his own apartment, he hastily drew bolt and
bar, and proceeded to the investigation of the
mystery. The earth had evidently been re-
cently disturbed ; he hesitated not, therefore,
to turn out the contents of the flower-pot; and
his suspicions were instantly justified by the
discovery of a square iron casket under the
mould, containing 30,000 francs in sealed and
labelled bags of double louis-cTors, accom-
panied by the following billet : —
" I have little doubt that your sagacity will
put you in possession of the accompanying
gold, which I hold in deposit for the service
of those persons whom you have recently heard
me name with unqualified devotion. Denied
as I am the valued privilege of prosecuting
my exertions in their cause, leave me the con-
solation of believing that you will replace me
in zeal and attachment. I have every reason
to suppose that my secret accuser to the As-
sembly was the unworthy servant of one who
is very dear to you ; and that you also are
THE TUILERIES. 249
honoured by her remembrance and observa-
tions. Guard, therefore, as your life, the
secret motives of a measure which I trust is by
this time assured on your part. To say more,
were to compromise your safety and my own.
Farewell !*
M J
250 THE TUILER1ES.
CHAPTER XVII.
" I possess the chief place over the citizens."
"Thy house is then upon sand, thy bed upon briars, thy
seat on a hollow, shrinking away to give thee a fall. Thy
king, if good, is the servant of the public, — thou the slave of
the multitude ; the day of his coronation he died for himself,
and began to live for others, — ay, and for many unjust con-
giderers of his pains. Yet, when he is gone, they will wish
him back again.''
Petrarch. — De Contemytu Mundi.
The sudden disappearance of Euphroisine
from the scene of action, deprived the dis-
concerted Valazy of that polar-star by which
he had hoped to regulate his future movements.
He knew that Madame de St. Florentin must
still be in ignorance of his submission to her
commands ; but although his professional initi-
ation had so fully occupied his time and atten-
THE TUILERIES. 251
tion as to have estranged his notice from the
important events passing in the Delplanque
family, it had not prevented him from making
some general inquiries relative to the Marchio-
ness, her views, and movements. He was
aware that she still prolonged her visit to her
father, secure from insult and molestation in the
midst of a tenantry to whom she was endeared
beyond a Jacobin's misleading ; and thus, free
from all uneasiness on her account, Camille
was contented to fulfil the duties of the new
calling he had adopted, and acquaint himself
with the various occasions which might render
it conducive to her future safety.
From the first hour of his enrolment in the
ranks of the National Guard, he had the satis-
faction of perceiving that he was considered by
its commandant, the Marquis de la Fayette,
with distinguishing favour; a circumstance
which Maximilien Valazy failed not to attri-
bute to his cousin's close kindred with an
influential deputy and orator of the patriotic
faction ; and which Camille himself was rather
inclined to trace to those very insinuations of
royalism, suggested by his cousin with a far
252 THE TUILERIES.
different intention. Le Blondinet, — as La
Fayette was familiarly nicknamed by the court
of Versailles,— although professedly of the con-
stitutional party, had omitted no occasion of
affording personal protection to the unfortu-
nate monarch whom he was anxious to reduce
to the mockery of a mere state-puppet — of a
nominal head to the most limited monarchy
which triumphant rebellion ever yet shore of
its beams. The King and Queen were at
that period a sacred pledge entrusted by the
nation to the guardianship of its civic force ;
and La Fayette was at once responsible to the
assembly for the persons of his prisoners, and
to his sovereign for his personal security from
the evil will of the infuriated multitude.
But in the execution of this twofold trust, he
had uniformly bid defiance to the lawless innova-
tions of the people, and resisted the arrogant
pretensions of the Jacobin and Brissotin fac-
tions ; to which, under the ultra-banner of the
Montagnards, Maximilien Valazy affected to
hold' himself attached. Careful, however, to
shun the perils investing a house divided
against itself, La Fayette remained on terms of
THE TUILERIES. 253
personal cordiality, singly and severally, with
the members of the party which united its
efforts against the throne and its ancient prero-
gative — against the court of Versailles and its
influence ; while he welcomed, or rather courted
to his ranks, all such substantial citizens as had
personal motives for repressing, by the iron
barriers of martial law, the growth and innova-
tions of civil anarchy, — and all such moderate
constitutionalists as were willing to respect that
fallen majesty which themselves had levelled
with the dust. Notwithstanding the arbitrary
influence attributed to his solitary will, it
proved insufficient to re-establish the discipline
of the troops under his command, when, on the
recent occasion of the king's intended journey
to St. Cloud, the National Guard had united
its violence with that of the people to forbid his
departure ; and although La Fayette had been
persuaded to resume the high military autho-
rity which at that crisis he had indignantly
resigned, he neglected no opportunity to for-
tify the fidelity of his troops, and to sur-
round himself with men of tried integrity and
loyalty.
254 THE TUILERIES.
The family connexion uniting La Fayette
and the Marquis de Bouille has induced many
to believe that a secret understanding existed
between them, relative to the projected flight
of the royal family ; that the former, now
awakened to the increasing ferocity of the mob,
and the sanguinary views entertained by the
leading members of the Assembly, had insisted
upon the retention of his loyal kinsman in that
high command which the revolt of Nancy had
conceded to his military experience and per-
sonal influence; under the certainty that it
would secure an eventual resource to the per-
secuted monarch and his family. It is known
that the Marquis, during the early enthusiasm
of his patriotic projects, spared no effort to
attach the upright and loyal Bouille to the con-
stitutional party : nor has time even yet deve-
loped to what degree, the lessons of experience
had attempered the opinions of La Fayette,
and inclined him to favour the unlucky pro-
ject organized by his royalist kinsman.
It was only a few days previous to the night
fixed for the escape of the royal family, that
Camille received an unsolicited appointment to
THE TUILERTES. 255
the post of aide-de-camp to his general ; who,
in overlooking the intermediary progression of
rank in favour of one of the name of Valazy,
was secure from provoking the displeasure of
the Jacobins ; while he knew that the moderate
party placed a blind reliance on the wisdom
of his own most trivial measures.
There exists probably no human distinction, of
which the attainment is not an immediate source
of pride and pleasure ; and even Camille, restrict-
ed as he was in the projects of his ambition,
and limited in his political views, could not
regard with insensibility the notice of a man so
distinguished as the Marquis de La Fayette. It
was the first public honour conferred upon him ;
and it failed not to excite a thrill within
his inmost heart, however engrossed by in-
terests of a wholly opposite character. " Pray
Heaven, I become not a partizan in right ear-
nest," said he, as he looked on his new epau-
let ; " my heart is with the King, — my mind
with his people; and my right arm shall de-
vote itself to maintain peace between them, —
while it guards from scathe the child of the noble
benefactor of my youth. Welcome, however,
956 THE TUILEBIES.
will be the day that restores the country to
tranquillity, even at the sacrifice of some portion
of the rights it claims ; for the idol of liberty,
which delights to find itself bathed in kindred-
blood, is unworthy the sacrifices which load its
reeking altars."
Such were the reflections which immediately
followed his instalment in his uncoveted ho-
nours ; but a second consideration taught him
to regret his accession to a dignity, which might
hereafter prove a fatal impediment to his ex-
ertions in the cause still dearer to his heart
than that of king or country. In the course
of the following day, as he was galloping with
a despatch towards the Porte St. Denis, having
encountered a carriage bearing the arms of St.
Florentin and Navelles, he relaxed his speed
to detect its entrance into the court-yard of
the Hotel St. Florentin, where the Marquis
himself was impatiently waiting the arrival of
his beloved Emiline and of her children.
Although deeply agitated by this moment-
ary view of the object of his enthusiastic
attachment, he was enabled to detect the
grievous changes effected by anxiety in her
THE TUILERIES. 257
appearance. He noticed the tremulous lip and
wasted cheek, which was coloured with but
a momentary hectic, as she approached the be-
loved home no longer affording her a refuge
from affliction, — the beloved husband, whose
fond esteem could no longer secure her from
insult and dismay. But he knew not, nor
could guess the exciting cause of her unusual
emotion. She was come to take her last leave
of the Marquis, previous to the final effort of
his devotion in the royal cause; — she was come
to be a hostage in the enemy's camp ; — to take
her first step in that public path of danger,
which was hereafter to guide her through pre-
cincts of infamy, and horror, and death !
During the remainder of the day, the mind
of Camille was divided between his duties, and
a consideration of the manner in which he
could avoid the appearance of officiousness in
presenting himself to Emiline's recognition.
But he was spared all unnecessary debates on
the subject; for as he proceeded early on
the morrow towards the Hotel de Ville, to ren-
der an account of his mission, he was met
258 THE TUILERIES.
by an orderly, requiring his immediate attend-
ance on General la Fayette. Camille has-
tened forwards; and in the course of a few
minutes he w r as summoned to the cabinet of the
General, whom he found alone — seated at his
writing table — and occupied in the attentive pe-
rusal of some official documents.
La Fayette looked up from his employment as
Valazy entered, acknowledged his respectful sa-
lutation with a hasty nod, and resumed his work ;
and Camille, while he waited the leisure of his
patron, interested himself in contemplating the
figure and attitude of the man, who at that mo-
ment — more than king or orator— balanced the
destinies of France. A clear stream of morning
light fell from the lofty window upon his stern
soldier-like countenance ; his hair hung in
unpowdered masses round his face ; even his
military array had somewhat relaxed its punc-
tilio of etiquette ; but the inflexible person of
the General had been too long stiffened by the
harness of war, to forfeit an iota of its formal
dignity ; and Camille could not divest himself
of that feeling of personal awe with which we
THE TUILERIES. 259
gaze on those who bear the impress of having
grappled with danger face to face, and of wear-
ing laurels not altogether bloodless. So entirely
was he engaged in this interesting contempla-
tion, that he started at the abrupt tone of Ge-
neral La Fayette's first inquiry.
" You have some domestic relation with the
family of St. Florentin. Explain to me, Sir, its
origin and interests. 1 '
Valazy, who had not yet acquired the art of
listening to that name unmoved, attempted to
describe the nature of his connexion with the
house of Navelles ; interpolating his hurried
narrative with repeated assurances that all in-
tercourse between them had long ceased to
exist.
La Fayette, who attributed this renegation
of his former protectors to a motive far less
honourable than that in which it really origi-
nated, sternly assured the young soldier that
he did himself little credit by this vehement
exculpation. " Ingratitude," said he, " is a
bad pioneer to advancement ; and to deny his
master, was condemnation even to an apostle.""
Camille was not sufficiently trained to habits
260 THE TUILERIES.
of subordination to let this charge pass un-
vindicated. " Could I accuse myself," he be-
gan
" Silence !" exclaimed the General. " I sent
for you hither to receive my instructions, not to
favour me with your own. Understand, there-
fore, that I am so little inclined to behold ties
of family union disregarded — so little desirous
of inflicting punishment where expostulation
may still avail — that I could wish you," in-
stinctively he lowered his peremptory voice,
and glanced towards the door of the cabinet,
" I could wish you to wait upon St. Florentin
in my name, — and warn him,— and intreat him
not to draw my attention too closely towards him
this day ; — he will understand my meaning. Tell
him — he may tempt my forbearance beyond
my official power of forgiveness ; and beg him
to believe, that the hazards he is about to incur
are directed towards an unprofitable aim — to-
wards a hopeless — an utterly hopeless conclu-
sion ."
He paused, and Camille marked his compre-
hension of the command, by a profound obei-
sance.
THE TUILERIES. 261
" You will remember that my commission
does not include itself among your military du-
ties — that it is, in short, confidential ; and ac-
cording to your diligence on the present occa-
sion, will a good understanding be permanently
established between us. Go, Sir ; — your time
is at your own disposal for the remainder of the
day. Go, Sir, — and remember that I have said
— confidential"
Camille again bowed, and following the com-
mand implied by the General's extended hand,
quitted the cabinet without de'ay. Under-
standing but imperfectly the implication con-
tained in La Fayette^ mysterious message, he
perceived that it was one of considerable import-
ance; and grateful for the confidence reposed
in him, delayed not to execute the stern com-
mandment of the General. Pausing only to
throw off that uniform which so ill became the
nuncio of a private and pacific mission — he pro-
ceeded — but not without perturbation — to the
Hotel St. Florentin.
262 THE TUILERIES.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Tout est perdu pour toi, les tyrans sont vainqueurs,
Ton supplice est tout pret ; si tu ne fuis, tu meurs,
Pars ! — ne perds points de tems ; prend ce soldat pour guide,
Trompons des meurtriers l'esperance homicide,
Tu vois mon desespoir.
Alzire.
Before Camille Valazy presented himself to
fulfil the charge of the Marquis de la Fayette —
St. Florentin had already quitted his home — for
ever !
Having received, through the agency of the
faithful Bertin, the final appointment of Marie
Antoinette, and taken that melancholy adieu of
seeming levity which has been already described,
he determined to avoid all danger of interrup-
tion to his momentous project, by absenting
himself from his family during the remainder
of the day ;— devoting the morning to a recon-
THE TUILERIES. 263
noissance of the obstacles he was likely to en-
counter, on the route destined to be traversed at
night by the royal fugitives ; — and dining at an
obscure restaurateur's, in the remote quarter
where he had hired the travelling carriage and
horses for their use.
Camille, who received in answer to his in-
quiries for the Marquis de St. Florentin, a sim-
ple assurance that he was absent from home,
immediately determined to loiter in the neigh-
bourhood till his return to the Hotel ; but hour
after hour passed away, the intense heat of the
morning subsided into the cooler freshness of
evening — the dimness of twilight, — and no St,
Florentin appeared. — The approach of night
distracted his mind with anxiety. — Was he too
late ? — Had that single hour of morning delay
rendered his mission invalid ? " This day"
had been the period emphatically nominated by
La Fayette, as offering some danger expressly to
be avoided ; — did its close necessitate that dan-
ger's unwarned incurrence ?
Valazy, bewildered by his conjectures, no
longer hesitated to apply for an audience of the
Marchioness herself; but the porter, having
64 THE TUJLERIES.
transmitted the request through the interven-
tion of Mademoiselle Flavie, instantly returned
with a harsh negative to the petition. There
was something in the phrasing of the mes-
sage, which induced Camille to suspect, and
with reason, that it had not been framed by the
gentle Emiline; and persuaded that through
some mischievous influence his prayer had been
prevented from reaching her ear, he resolved to
despatch a message to her in writing, and ad-
journed to a neighbouring coffee-house to effect
his purpose. But the sight of the suspicious
and disorderly beings congregated there, forci-
bly recalled to his mind the danger that might
arise, were any billet intercepted sufficiently
forcible in its expressions to awaken the alarms
of the Marchioness. He returned, therefore, in
anxious haste towards the hotel, trusting that
among its exits and its entrances he should
encounter some faithful envoy through whom
he might again address its lovely mistress.
Scarcely had he regained the court-yard,
— for it was already night, — when a car-
riage drew up to the door, and Emiline, bril-
liant in jewels, and robed in all the glowing ele-
THE TUILERIES. %65
gance of fashion, — attired, in short, for the fete
of the Due de Nivernois, — glanced for an in-
stant before his eyes !
Camille shuddered as the carriage rolled
away — " Deplorable levity !" he exclaimed,
"fatal vanity ! — will neither the sufferings, nor
the perils of her country, — her sovereign, — her
kindred, — her very self, — suffice to neutralize its
fantastic folly ! — Emiline ! — Emiline ! — There
is mockery in the glimmering of thy jewelled
attire, — there is accusation in the lightness of
thy step at such an hour ; — and had I been
often permitted to see thee thus — could thy pre-
sent image efface the heavenly dream of my
boyhood, — Heaven knows the thraldom of my
heart would quickly end."
The Swiss was still standing, flambeau in
hand, upon the steps ; and Camille eagerly pro-
fited by so fortunate an opportunity for further
interrogation. " Was the Marquis de St. Flo-
rentin, 11 he inquired, " likely to meet his lady
at the Hotel Nivernois ?" — the address he had
heard given to the servants.
" The Marquis was gone into the country. 11
" When ?— where ?"—
VOL. I. N
£66 THE TUILERIES.
But instead of replying, the man hastily ex-
tinguished his flambeau, and retreated from the
importunate questions of an obscure foot-pas-
senger, whose visit had been so cavalierly de-
clined by the femme-de-chambre de Madame la
Marquise !
Valazy was now half inclined to attempt a
momentary interview with Emiline on her de-
parture from the fete ; and taking his way to-
wards the Hotel Nivernois, he stationed himself
amid the murmuring crowd which surrounded
the illuminated mansion whence the sound of
music and festivity issued in frightful contrast.
To escape the horrible execrations which met
his ear on every side, — the menaces poured
forth upon the heads of those who derided the
starving populace by their intemperance in the
hour of scarcity,— mingled with anticipations of
a speedy and bloody triumph, — Camille turned
towards the Boulevards ; a spot almost deserted
at that hour of the night.
It was the noon-tide of the year, — the glow-
ing luxuriance of June; — that month whose
blossomy glory not even the pollution of a
city can wholly subdue, when sweet odours
THE TUILERIES. 267
prevail over the earth, — bright hues are glancing
even on the stoniest wall ; and every green thing
adorns itself with the utmost pride of array
vouchsafed to its lowliness. A clear grey sum-
mer night twinkling with one solitary star that
seemed to shrink from finding itself alone on the
wide heavens, had hushed the atmosphere into
stillness. The hum of the city was over ; the
artizan had gone to his feverish rest; and Ca-
mille, as he paced along the deserted Boulevard,
marvelled that the fragrance bursting from its
lime-trees, and from the adjoining gardens, had
not power to attract the sickly mechanic from
his squalid den, or the still more sickly votary
of dissipation from the crowded chambers in-
fested by noxious exhalations. When he
thought of the scene of riot and folly whence
he had just escaped, he felt inclined, for a mo-
ment, to revert to his early prejudices against
the arrogant luxury of the aristocracy, and to
utter a general anathema against that wantonness
of excess, which even the humiliation and grief
of the sovereigns they affected to cherish with
such holy loyalty, were insufficient to moderate.
n 2
£68 THE TUILERTES.
He turned from the image of the radiant Emi-
line, to the recollection of the pale and saddened
girl who hung on his arm when last he trod
that Boulevard ; — whose beauty was subdued
and soft as the balmy night hovering over his
head ; — and whose thoughts were as elevated,
and whose mind as bright, as the one clear star
that 'glanced amid its shadows.
Engrossed by these meditations, and re-
miniscences, Camille pursued his solitary way
along the Boulevards ; till, in one of the most
unfrequented quarters, he was struck by the
appearance of a heavy travelling carriage with
four horses, which was waiting as if in expecta-
tion of some additional passengers. While
inwardly commenting upon the loveliness of
the season for a midnight journey, his steps
were overtaken by two females, who passed on-
wards with hurried avoidance; and by the
light of a lamp which partially illuminated
their faces, he noticed that they were meanly
apparelled, but that the countenance of the one
nearest to himself, although tinged with a death-
like paleness, was exquisitely lovely. As they
THE TUILKRIKS. 269
reached the carriage, without a spoken word, or
a moment's delay, the door was opened ; — they
hurried up the steps ; and it was evident that
they were welcomed by those within with the
fondest warmth of gratulation. In a minute, a
voice required in the German language the
coachman to proceed, and the equipage rolled
rapidly along the Boulevard.
A sudden consciousness as quickly enlight-
ened the mind of Camille, increasing as the
rumble of its cumbrous wheels lessened in the
distance. The hour, — the occasion,— the mys-
terious haste of the travellers excited his first
suspicion ; — and on reflection, the beautiful face
on which he had gazed, distinctly bore the pecu-
liar lineaments of the Bourbon countenance. — It
was undoubtedly that of Madame Elisabeth, the
only member of the royal family personally un-
known to him ; and the coachman, of whose
figure he had caught a momentary glimpse, was
as surely St. Florentin himself !— His respect-
ful air as he turned towards the carriage for
final commands, demonstrated that some person
of supreme rank was lodged within ; — yes !
every circumstance now appeared explanatory
270 THE TL'ILEIUES.
of La Fayette's oracular warning ; — every cir-
cumstance betrayed in the persons of these mid-
night fugitives — the Royal Family of France !
The whole truth was scarcely less manifest
than the importance of the crisis ! Not a mo-
ment was to be lost ; — life and death — perhaps,
the lives and deaths of thousands, hung sus-
pended with every dropping grain of sand ; — and
Camille, fondly trusting that his utmost speed
might yet intercept the carriage at the Barriere,
instantly flew off with eager and untiring zeal
in the direction it had taken. In the impe-
tuosity of his course, the earth seemed to
recede beneath his steps ; — he saw not,' felt
not, — his breath was restrained as by an iron
girdle round his bosom ; — a sense of agony
urged on his bounding feet, and superseded
even his doubts of success. There it was before
him ! — that dark, and seemingly indifferent
object, moving forward in the distance, —
whose attainment would form a triumph for
his future life, and perhaps a preservative
for many an innocent victim ; — whose attain-
ment might have been compassed by the delay
of a moment — by the intervention of a stone
THE TUILERIES. 271
on the road ! — But its destiny was otherwise ap-
pointed ! —
At about forty paces from the Barriere St.
Martin, Camille, dreading the observation of
the municipal and national officers stationed
there, checked the suspicious violence of his
speed. Aided by the flashing lamps of the office,
he had the mortification of seeing the passport
returned into the carriage, by the soldier on
duty ; and before he could rush forwards, a
hoarse exclamation of " Allons ! en route H
and a furious incitement of the whip, put the
stately vehicle again in motion, at a very dif-
ferent rate from its previous movements. Nor
did Valazy attempt to follow its accelerated
speed ; the impossibility of overtaking the car-
riage was glaringly evident; and he felt as-
sured that the betrayal of any undue solicitude
or exertion, could not fail to attract the atten-
tion of the gendarmerie towards its contents.
With an air of indifference, therefore, he
sauntered towards the guard-house; where,
under pretence of arranging his watch by the
light of the lamp, he entered into conversation
with the soldier who was smoking at the door ;
272 THE TUILERIES.
— affecting to ridicule the cumbersome equip-
age, and heavy load of the recent travellers.
" But they were a squadron of German thick-
skulls ?" he observed, in a half-interrogatory
tone.
" The Baroness de Korff and her family,
returning to Germany ; — and I wish we were as
well rid of all other importations from the
wrong side of the Bhine, or that they were
smothered in their own saner-kraut. If my
advice were to be taken, rnorguienne, the Au-
strian, and all her gang, should be crushed like
so many toads I""
Valazy shuddered with horror, when he re-
membered that the safety of " the Austrian"
had been placed but a few seconds before
at this ■ ruffian's disposal ! Nor did it dispel
his anxiety to remember by how many
voices in the kingdom these sentiments, and
others of similar atrocity, were unceasingly
re-echoed. The King and Queen had escaped
the vigilance of their janitors, — he could
no longer doubt it ; but without possessing
the slightest index to their design, or any
suspicion of their ultimate destination, he felt
THE TUILERIES. 273
persuaded that the forewarning insinuated by-
La Fayette, had not been inadvertently given ;
and that a path conducting through observant
millions of exasperated enemies, would not
prove secure from mischief. But reflection
came too late ; and the only measure of redress
that occurred to his mind, was to hasten, if pos-
sible, his purposed interview with Emiline,
and withdraw one martyr from the general sa-
crifice.
As he retraced the steps of his fruitless
course along the Boulevard, — the deepening
uproar of some popular tumult became dis-
tinctly audible ; and a lurid reflection redden-
ed the atmosphere, just where the palace of
the Due de Nivernois was sending forth the
clash of its festal cymbals into the midnight
air. Camille started; and anticipating some
danger for its thoughtless inmates, began to
revile himself as he hurried along, for having
presumed to utter one thought of condemna-
tion touching the fairest and dearest of them
all. So deeply, so vainly do we deceive our-
selves, in affecting to note with impartiality the
errors of those wejlove !
n 5
274 THE TUILERIES.
Finding it impossible to penetrate the ave-
nues, already invested by an outrageous
mob, Camille began to reconnoitre the issues
leading from the Boulevards to the Hotel ;
where the guests still remained ignorant of
a tumult, deafened by the joyousness of their
mirth ; and as. he watched the open windows
of the heated ball-room, he became an invo-
luntary witness to the interview between Mire-
poix and Emiline de St. Florentin. He dis-
tinguished not indeed the express words pass-
ing between them ; but the tender inflec-
tion of their voices reaching his ear, mis-
led him into a belief that it was gallantry,
rather than a patriotic sympathy, which had
thus withdrawn them from the gay assemblage
to seek refuge in each other's kindness of heart.
He saw the Marchioness leaning, with heavy
sighs, against the marble window-seat ; and
believing them to be directed to the ear of a
paramour, could scarcely ' restrain his indig-
nation. " Deluded woman !" murmured Ca-
mille, as the flashing of the lights within re-
vealed the more than earthly beauty of her jew-
elled brow, " Can no ties, no perils, no warn-
THE TUILERIES. 275
ings restrain thee ? — Danger is around thy path ;
— death is perhaps advancing, with gloating
eye, to feed his ravening hunger on thy cheek ;
— and he will find thee, — will find thee, — wretch-
ed woman ! in dalliance with a libertine ! "
A wilder shout from the inner court of the
Hotel proclaimed some fresh outrage ; — but the
time for warning was expired : Mirepoix and
his partner had already left the window . Again
Camille accused himself of having been harsh*
and premature in his judgment; but ere he
had time to amend his fault by attempting to
gain access to the mansion, he beheld the
object of his anxiety — carefully guarded by
the stranger whom he believed to be her lover,
effect her escape from the now alarmed assem-
bly. He heard the Chevalier, in terms of the
fondest endearment, urge her to be calm and
silent during their nights ; — as she clung to his
protecting side, Camille, with indignant won-
der, heard him name her " Emiline — his Eme-
tine!""— "And I!" he exclaimed, "I who
scarcely dared entitle her thus, even in my
purest prayer — even in the secret solitude of
my midnight tears !"
276 THE TUILERIES.
Her mantle touched him as she passed ; — and
he shook off the contact as if it could convey a
pestilential contagion ; — yet still the thought of
other times, and the feelings with which they
were interwoven, prompted him to follow the
footsteps of the fugitives. He saw the Mar-
chioness deposited in safety at her Hotel ; and
alternately thanked Heaven for her escape, and
cursed her preserver and the dishonourable tie
which had bound him to her assistance.
The night was now far advanced ; and as
Camille, weary and disgusted, regained his own
habitation, he felt in some degree consoled for
the ill success of his enterprize, by his disco-
very of the unworthiness of the person who had
formed the chief incitement to his zeal. But on
arriving in his chamber, the first object which
met his observation was a communication in
cypher from La Fayette, reanimating in a mo-
ment his exhausted faculties.
" I find you have been too late, and fatally
so ! — I will not prejudge your remissness, but
require you to repair the fault by proceeding a
second time — and instantly — to the same quar-
THE TUILERIES. 277
ter See her at all risks ; tell her the attempt
has failed ; — that suspicion is already astir, and
is only suspended by the lateness of the hour.
The Committee of Research will visit her by
daybreak — her escape must be immediate or
unavailing."
Camille Valazy had no hesitation in referring
the mysterious her to the Marchioness de St.
Florentin. He threw on his uniform, believing
its authority might be some advantage in case
of an altercation with any civil officer ; and as
he once again, and with a beating heart, ap-
proached her Hotel, he trembled on discover-
ing that faint red streaks were already discerni-
ble in the east.
On Emiline , s return from the ball, the venera-
ble Laporte himself had come forward to receive
her ; and when Camille once more, and with un-
compromising peremptoriness summoned the
porter from his slumbers, he demanded, in the
name of La Fayette, and by virtue of his habit,
an immediate interview with the old steward, to
whom, from his boyhood, he had been fa-
vourably known. In this startling emergency,
278 THE TUILERIES.
the old man evinced more presence of mind
than could have been expected. He readily
entered into the scheme of flight suggested by
Camille on the hint of a passport inclosed in
the communication of General La Fayette ;
and agreed with him in the necessity of exagge-
rating the danger of the Marchioness's position,
in order to expedite her departure. The fore-
sight of Valazy had posted his own carriage
in the adjoining street ; and Laporte himself
undertook to accompany the instant flight
of his mistress and her children. Both were
already sanguine of success, when the obsti-
nacy of Emiline at once overthrew their scheme,
and restored her entire influence over the mind
of her worshipper. — He looked upon her beau-
ty, — listened to her noble declarations, — and
again adored her !
But it was no time to indulge in such emo-
tions ; to save her — to guard her — to ward off
the coming blow was his immediate considera-
tion. Already he seemed to behold her aban-
doned to the ruffianly insolence of the minions
of the law — already an agony of apprehension
overwhelmed his heart. The danger, the im-
THE TUL1EREES.
279
minent danger of his fugitive king became as
nothing ; for in the cause of Louis many a
sword would be drawn, many a pleading voice
become eloquent. But Emiline — the helpless
mother of still more helpless children — Emiline
appeared forsaken by her lawful protector, and
abandoned to perils provoked by his own rash-
ness ! — He resolved to repair without delay to
the Hotel de Ville, and gather from La Fay-
ette himself some tidings of the royal fugitives,
and instructions for the further defence of those
who had been endangered by their escape from
Paris.
280 THE TUILER1ES.
CHAPTER XIX.
Les droits qu'un esprit vaste, et ferme en ses desseins,
Prend sur l'esprit grossier des vulgaires humains.
Voltaire.
As Valazy approached the Hotel de Ville, has-
tened by the hope of instant, or early admit-
tance to a confidential audience of La Fayette,
he was struck, on approaching the Place de
Greve, by an appearance of premature anima-
tion in the adjoining streets. The shops,
usually closed at so early an hour of the morn-
ing, were now filled with idlers, evidently as-
sembled by motives of curiosity rather than of
commercial interest ; while even in the carriage
ways of the streets and the square, detached
groups of busy politicians were engaged among
themselves in some vehement discussion, which
THE TUILERIES. 281
appeared to Valazy connected with some new
crisis of public interest. The names of the
King and Queen, repeated in various tones of
disgust, and hatred, and resentment, soon
struck his ear ; and long before he gained the
steps of the Hotel de Ville, the rumours of the
angry multitude acquainted him that authentic
intelligence of the flight of their Majesties had
that moment reached the authorities.
Hastening up the crowded stairs, he per-
ceived La Fayette engaged in earnest conver-
sation with Bailly, Gouvion, and a woman of
the Queen's wardrobe attended by two soldiers
of the National Guard, who seemed to have
been the bearers of this startling piece of infor-
mation ; and while the former was apparently
deliberating on some further precautionary
measure, Camille bent a look of eager inquiry
on his countenance, to ascertain if possible, to
what extent the politic General had been pre-
viously involved in the affair. In truth, the
character of this remarkable man was still im-
perfectly developed, even by his own partizans.
He was well known to have brought with him
from the emancipated provinces of America, an
282 THE TUILERIES.
enthusiastic zeal for the cause of civil liberty ;
yet the courtly urbanity of his address at once
repelled all familiarity on the part of the rude and
ferocious faction of the Parisian Revolutionists,
and induced them to suspect his secret inclina-
tion towards that aristocratic ascendancy, with
which his own mind and manners appeared so
well assimilated. Meanwhile the frankness and
bonhommie of his demeanour towards the popu-
lace, his seeming deference to their prejudices,
and above all the intrepid coolness of his de-
meanour on occasions of popular disturbance,
secured him the confidence of the citizens, and
an unlimited command over the passions of the
mob. In more than one crisis of public exci-
tation, his simple authority had arrested the
course of national violence, and suspended the
effusion of blood : so true it is that a man never
obtains a complete sway over the passions of
others, but when he exhibits a mastery over his
own.
But Camille Valazy, although amply satis-
fied of the rectitude of La Fayette's principles,
and of his honest desire to strip the monarchy
of his native country of the dangerous preroga-
THE TU1LERIES. 283
tive gradually assumed by the House of Bour-
bon, could not divest himself of a belief that
the General had been secretly inclined to favour
a measure, whereby the anointed sovereign of
France might be saved from ultimate sacrifice ; —
a sacrifice which his recent humiliation rendered
a superfluous atonement to his subjects, — and a
needless lesson to the despotic monarchs of other
countries or future ages. Thus far, however,
was clear ; — that he was fully aware of the part
taken in the plot by the family of St. Florentin.
Profiting by a moment's confusion in the cham-
ber, he turned towards his aide-de-camp, as if
for the purpose of some professional instruc-
tion.
" Your agency, Sir, I perceive has been un-
availing !" said he, in a stern but subdued
tone. " I require no particulars, 1 '' he con-
tinued, waving his hand as Camille was about
to enter on an explanation. " It is enough
that this rash enterprise has been attempted."
Then turning to the two soldiers of the Na-
tional Guard, he inquired whether any indica-
tions had transpired of the route taken by the
fugitives ; and learning that general opinion
284 THE TUILERIES.
pointed to that of Flanders, he appeared to
coincide in the belief; and continued to receive
with the most composed indifference, a thou-
sand contradictory statements which now poured
in upon him relative to the mode of escape, and
direction of flight adopted by the royal family.
It has since been ascertained, that the first per-
son encountered by Marie Antoinette and Ma-
dame Elisabeth, on leaving the Tuileries, was
La Fayette himself; mounted on the white
charger which habitually rendered him so con-
spicuous to the Parisian populace ; but whether
his own blindness on that occasion were real, or
a merciful assumption, can never be proved un-
less by his own avowal at some future period.
The populace crowded together in the Place
de la Greve, and under the windows of the
Hotel de Ville, — where the whole body of the
municipal officers were now assembled, — soon
exhibited their usual ferocity ; and the me-
naces and imprecations of the mob were now dis-
tinctly heard in the council chamber, upbraid-
ing Bailly the mayor of Paris, and even La
Fayette himself, as accomplices in the escape
of the royal family; and threatening them
THE TUILERIES. 285
with summary punishment for so gross an act
of treachery toward the nation. Bailly was ex-
tremely anxious to exculpate himself from this
unjust charge, by haranguing the people ; but
La Fayette, who had already beheld Fou-
lon and his son-in-law Berthier de Sauvigny,
dragged from the balcony to an immediate and
cruel death, strove by the coolest expostulations
to dissuade his colleague from the rash attempt ;
— pointing out at the same time to his notice, the
fatal lantern already prepared for themselves.
" The National Assembly is aware of the
peril of our predicament," said he, without
deigning to explain in what manner he had pro-
cured the welcome intelligence. " Our safety
cannot be a matter of indifference to them : — let
us leave it in their hands."
To the satisfaction of all parties, his conjec-
tures were speedily realized. In another minute
the tumult of the riotous populace below was
suddenly checked ; and a considerable detach-
ment of the National Guard was seen by the
prisoners in the council-chamber to enter and
traverse the square fronting the Hotel de Ville.
No obstacle was opposed to their passage,
286 THE TUILEItlES.
when it became known among the mob that
these troops were commissioned to conduct the
mayor, as well as La Fayette, and Gouvion,
before the Assemblee Constituante, to render an
account of their culpable negligence ; and to be
present at the opening of the proclamation of
Louis XVI. to the Parisians, — explanatory of
the motives of his flight, and descriptive of the
injurious treatment to which he had been sub-
jected ; — and of the instructions for his ministers
deposited by the King previous to his depar-
ture in the hands of Monsieur de la Porte, In-
tendant of the civil list. The irritated mob
readily gave way to the passage of their general
and his companions, under military escort ;
persuaded that they were only surrendering
their victims to the judgment of a tribunal, as
severely disposed towards the prisoners as their
own worst feelings could desire.
The measures of the Assemblee Constituante
in this exigency, exhibited a character of
promptitude, energy, and moderation, such as
it had rarely displayed on less important occa-
sions. The ministers were severally apprized
of the escape of the King, and summoned to
THE TUILERIES. 287
assist at a general deliberation on the mea-
sures to be adopted. No person was allowed
to pass the barriers during the day ; couriers
were despatched into the departments, pre-
venting the progress of all travellers towards
the frontiers ; several strong detachments were
placed in the disaffected sections of the city,
and others stationed for the protection of the
Hall of Assembly. When La Fayette and his
companions reached the bar, Alexandre de
Beauharnois,* who acted as President, was in
the act of making known to the Assembly the
reports of the commissioners who had been dis-
persed throughout Paris to investigate the dis-
positions of the people; and of the deputies
who had been commissioned to ascertain whe-
ther the crown jewels had been carried off by
the royal fugitives : and the assurance conveyed
by these reports of the perfect tranquillity of
the citizens, and of their unabated confidence
in the integrity of their representatives, seemed
to impart a corresponding degree of firmness
and self-security to the proceedings of the
Assembly. The examination of La Fayette and
* The first husband of the Empress Josephine.
288 THE TUILF.RIES.
his coadjutors was followed up with a sufficient
appearance of rigour to satisfy the misgivings
of the mistrustful populace. A direct charge
was made of culpable negligence on the part of
the National Guard — and of co-operation on
that of the municipality — but only to be plausi-
bly refuted ; and the ministers of the crown, who
had been summoned having at length arrived,
the celebrated proclamation of Louis XVI. was
officially read to the Assembly.
The reproaches and accusations against the
National Assembly contained in this interest-
ing address, served of course rather to irritate
than to effect any intimidation upon its audi-
tors. They were upbraided by the King with
having attempted the total destruction of the
French monarchy, and with seeking to extend
the civil anarchy of Paris throughout every part
of the kingdom ; but nothing could be more
easy than to refute a charge, in which the
party accused was also both judge and juror;
and the excesses and rapacity of the court of
Versailles, the unconstitutional innovations of
the former ministry, as well as the unyielding
tenacity of the King, were again and again
THE TUILERIES. 289
brought forward by various popular orators as
pretexts for the severities and privations in-
flicted upon the royal family between the au-
tumn of 1789, and the ensuing season. [" The
conspiracy formed by the Bourbon family
against the sovereignty of the nation," became
for the thousandth — but not, alas ! for the last
time — a specious watchword to the passions of
the Assembly ; and although the declamations
of "Mirabeau no longer dignified the phrase by
their hollow eloquence, the theme was hotly
and successfully pursued by others, who covered
their own deficiencies with the descending man-
tle of the prophet of their creed.
Before the Assembly proceeded to the order
of the day, La Fayette begged to point out to
their notice the aid-de-camp by whom he was
attended at the bar. " In presenting to you,
gentlemen, " said he, " this young soldier as
the near kinsman and namesake of your es-
teemed colleague, Maximilien Valazy, the tried
friend of the people, and the undeviating oppo-
nent of their tyrants, I feel secure of interest-
ing your confidence in his execution of your
commands. I am about to despatch him offi-
vol. i. o
290 THE TUILERIES.
cially on the route to Mons, which appears
the probable direction of the journey of their
Majesties ; claiming such assistance of the local
authorities upon his way, as may best enable
him to secure the persons of the fugitives,
without violating the respect due to a sovereign
of the French nation. "
" Two couriers were sent off in that direc-
tion nearly an hour ago," observed Pethion.
" I should, therefore, rather recommend the
road to Metz : it is evident that the aristocrat
Bouille and his myrmidons form a magnet by
whose attraction we are likely to unearth the
roval fox which has escaped our vigilance.'"
" I have already despatched my senior aide-
de-camp, Monsieur Antoine de Romeuf, on
the route to Metz," observed General La Fay-
ette composedly.
" The more reason," retorted Pethion, " for
following up his mission by that of the Capi-
taine Valazy. Romeuf is known to be one of
those idle Mirliflors, whose minds have been
polluted by the sorceries of the Circe of Ver-
sailles. His secret inclinations towards the
roval cause will not fail to betray our own, un-
THE TUILERIES. 291
less we drive the nail into the block by a second
blow of the mallet. Let Valazy proceed with-
out further parley to Chalons.'"
This opinion being confirmed by the general
voice of the Assembly, La Fayette publicly de-
livered to Camille the instructions which were
to regulate his proceedings. " You will use
your best expedition in a mission so critical;
but I feel persuaded that your utmost haste
will not gain sufficient ground on the fugi-
tives," said he, glancing from the clock sus-
pended over the seat of the President to the
countenance of his aide-de-camp ; and, as it ap-
peared to Valazy, with a look of peculiar signi-
ficance. " Go, Sir !" he continued, resuming
his usual air of stern authority. " I am satis-
fied that you appreciate the importance of your
charge ; and that none of my instructions touch-
ing this important affair will be forgotten or
disregarded."
On leaving the Assembly to proceed to its
ordinary deliberations, while he visited the
chateau of the Tuileries for further investiga-
tion, La Fayette was greeted by the populace
with cries of disapprobation and vengeance,
o 2
292 THE TUILERIES.
such as he had been little accustomed to hear
applied to himself ; and Camille, and one or two
officers of hi9 staff by whom he was accompa-
nied, attempted to surround his person w r ith a
view to his defence, as he traversed the infu-
riated multitude. But the General, with a
smile of perfect self-possession, motioned them
from his side; and boldly advanced through
the hootings of the mob.
" My friends !" said he, to those of the discon-
tented nearest to him in the melee ; " you are
pleased to term the escape of the King a national
misfortune. What would you say to a counter-
revolution calculated to destroy the liberty you
have acquired?"*
The fickle crowd, lending to these expres-
sions a more extended implication than had
been anticipated by the speaker, now flew into
an opposite extreme ; and began to hail the de-
parture of Louis XVI. as an event auspicious
to their own interests. " We are at length
freed from the Bourbon gang !" they exclaimed,
with renewed shouts in honour of their favourite
commander ; while a portion of the populace
* Historical.
THE TUILERIES. 293
even raised a cry of " Long live La Fayette ; let
him be our new King ! — Yes ! La Fayette shall
be our King !"
The General, turning towards the vacillating
crew with an air of mingled compassion and
indignation, exclaimed, " And what have I
done, my friends, to deserve your bad opinion?
How have I merited that you should hold me
worthy of no better office ?"
On this specious phrase the citizens redoubled
their huzzas in his honour, and suffering him to
proceed upon his way, Valazy seized the oppor-
tunity to escape for the execution of the im-
portant mission committed to his charge.
Within an hour, Camille found himself gal-
loping along the road, which, alas ! full well he
knew to have been taken by the illustrious fu-
gitives. But although resolved to interpret the
glance of La Fayette into a secret implication that
his haste upon the route to Metz need not be
over zealously accelerated, he had the mortifi-
cation to discover at each succeeding relay,
that the couriers despatched by the Assembly,
as well as his co-ad jutor, Monsieur de Romeuf,
had outstripped him by nearly two hours, and
294 THE TUILERIES.
that there was little chance that the ponderous
equipages of the Baroness Von Korff could at-
tain the frontier, before they were overtaken
and arrested. Satisfied, therefore, that his
mission would be infructuous to the party it
was intended to benefit, he found no motive to
overlook his personal fatigue and anxiety, — for
he had been without rest or interval of tran-
quillity, for more than four-and-twenty hours ;
nor his secret regret at being forced to abandon
Paris under circumstances so fraught with dan-
ger to the wife of the Marquis de St. Florentin.
Stung to the very heart's core by the hauteur
of her demeanour towards him on the preceding
night, — vet with a lover's inconsistency adoring
the hand upraised in scorn against him — it must
be acknowledged that Camille Valazy, as he
urged his horse to its utmost speed along the
stately avenues of the road to Meaux, thought
more of the perils and insults which might
await the unprotected Emiline from the depu-
tation of the committee of research, than of
those which the fugitive Bourbons had so rashly
braved in their escape from the Tuileries ; and
dwelt with more emotion on the recollected
THE TUILERIES. 295
tones of Madame de St. Floren tin's recurrence
to Madelon's affection, than on the recom-
mendatory terms in which he had been pre-
sented to the constituted government, by the
most illustrious patriot of the day.
Depressed in body and mind — heart-sick
with vexation, — and sinking under fatigues to
which he had been ill-accustomed by his recent
modes of life, — Valazy, towards night, could
scarcely keep on his saddle. His head grew
dizzy, and his eyes appeared to rest once more
upon that waving sea of heads, whose fierce un-
dulations he had witnessed on the Place de la
Greve ; and whose horrible imprecations seemed
to ring in his ears. Such — such — were the
ruffians to whose animosity St. Florentin had
dared bequeath his helpless wife and chil-
dren ; such the human fiends to whose ven-
geance he had been himself compelled to aban-
don the idol of his bosom ! The mere thought
of the indignities to which she had been perhaps
already subjected, served like a spur to his
flagging haste. Having obtained the refresh-
ment of a cup of wine from a peasant proceed-
ing home from his protracted labours in the
9.96 THE TUILERIES.
vineyards, he pushed onwards with renewed
activity ; but on reaching the royal post-house
at Chalons, he had the mortification to find, not
only that the preceding couriers had consider-
ably gained upon him in the hour of their ar-
rival and departure, but that the equipages of
the royal travellers had excited no trifling de-
gree of suspicion in their passage through the
town. In fact, the post-masters on the roads
of Lorrain were so accustomed to the spectacle
of emigrants and fugitives, that they looked
with jealous inquiry upon every equipage be-
speaking a family of consideration, and taking
the route to the frontier.
Valazy now perceived that all hope of escape
was lost for the royal family ; unless, indeed,
they had been so fortunate as to secure a very
active co-operation on the part of the Marquis
de Bouille and his troops ; a circumstance
to which popular suspicion already pointed
previous to his departure from Paris. Yet it
appeared to him — judging from the trivial
causes which had combined to negative his own
eager attempts to obtain an interview with the
Marquis de St. Florentin — that some miserable
THE TUILERIES. 297
fatality was attached to the undertaking ; and
that notwithstanding the generous or politic
moderation of La Fayette, it would be found as
impossible to secure the progress of the mea-
sure, as it had already proved to intercept the
attempt. — His misgivings on this point were
speedily realized. On reaching Pont de Som-
me Vesle, a post-station three leagues beyond
the town of Chalons, Valazy encountered upon
the little bridge which unites the cross road to
Varennes with the high road to Verdun, a mes-
senger, taking his way at full speed to Paris ;
who, at sight of an officer of the National Guard,
drew up to announce that the King and Queen,
or as he called them, " Les royauoc^ had been
arrested at Varennes !
He stated that the person of his Majesty
had been recognized by the light of a stable
lantern intruded into the carriage at St. Mene-
hould by a man named Drouet, son to the post-
master, who had seen him at Paris the preceding
year, on the day of the Federation ; and who
now identified the countenance of his sovereign
with the engraving on an assignat which he drew
from his pocket. After giving such instructions
o5
298 THE TUILERIES.
to the postilions as would ensure the im possibi-
lity of reaching the post-horses despatched to
Varennes from the opposite station to carry them
forward to Dun, Drouet followed them on horse-
back; and having ascertained that no escorts
were stationed for their rescue, he denounced
them to the authorities of the paltry town des-
tined to be the scene of their betrayal !
The suspicions of the inhabitants of St. Mene-
hould had unfortunately been excited and kept
on the alert during two preceding days, by the ar-
rival of several detachments of dragoons, such as
were stationed by Bouille in all the different post-
towns of the route between Chalons and Mont,
medy, on pretext of escorting a waggon-load of
specie from Paris ; but which did not fail to di-
rect the apprehensions of the multitude to their
real purpose. The troops commanded by the
Due de Choiseul and the Marquis de Goguelas,
who were appointed to await the arrival of
the king's equipage at Pont de Somme Vesle,
had, in fact, been compelled by the insults of
the mob to abandon their post ; and, misled by
misrepresentations that a heavy travelling car-
riage of the description they were taught to ex-
THE TUILERIES. 299
pect, had passed through the village at an early
hour of the morning ; while Goguelas unwisely
conducted his men back to Varennes through
the woods of Clermontois, leaving the field clear
to the enemies of his sovereign. Unfortunately
their assistance in the town of Varennes, if
more active, proved equally ineffectual.
" But are you sure," said Camille, eagerly
interrogating the man, " that it is really the
King and Queen you have secured?"
" Am I sure I" said the courier, indignantly ;
" Was it not my own good cousin, Drouet, who
was beforehand with them at Varennes, — who
summoned the National Guard — imprisoned
Bouille's rampaging dragoons in the convent of
the Cordeliers, where they were comfortably
roosted for the night ; — and, with the help of
Procureur Sausse, the candle maker, and Bil-
laud, and half-a-dozen other townsmen as well
disposed as themselves, blocked up the bridge
with their market-carts against the passage of
Dame KorfTs berline ? Parbleu ! nofancien,
ces gaillards la were not of the sort to let the
Capet family slip through their fingers like a
base half-crown."
300 THE TUILEHIES.
* "And where did you leave their Majesties ? v
inquired Valazy, but too well convinced of the
authenticity of his account.
" I left the Bourgeoise de Versailles sipping
coffee in Madame Sausse's back shop ; and in
spite of the hootings and howlings of the mul-
titude gathered round the house, trying to flat-
ter old Sausse.into conniving at their escape,
by praising the freshness of the eggs set before
her for breakfast, the frilled garnitude of their
lit de parade, — and protesting she adored the
smell of tallow ! But la commere Sausse is
no gudgeon to be fished up out of the Meuse
with such a bait as that ; and "
" And the troops stationed in the town ?"
"Are deafening the King and Queen with
shouts for ' la Natio7i.' > n
" Nay, I spoke of Monsieur's dragoons, and
the regiment of royal hussars.""
" Tudieu ! of who else ? I tell you Bouille's
dragoons are shouting in honour of the nation
as loudly as if they wore an uniform of the
same facings with your own. — But I am loiter-
ing here, Sieur Capitaine, without thinking of
the packet I am to deliver from Procureur
THE TUILERIES. 301
Sausse to the Commandant at Chalons ; — for
which I mean to carry back in exchange a
packet of assignats, in reward of my diligence,
— to say nothing of the little sip of cassis, with
which I must wash the dust from my throat in
order to recount all these particulars to Mon-
sieur le Maire at the Hotel de Ville."' )
This information was too detailed, and too
conclusive, to admit of any distrust on Valazy's
part. Fearful of implicating the Marquis de
St. Florentin, who had not been specified by the
courier as forming part of the royal cortege, he
had abstained from making any inquiries which
could involve his name in the affair. But Ca-
mille did not doubt that the husband of Emi-
line had shared the arrest of the Due de Choi-
seul and the Comte Charles de Damas, who had
been mentioned among the group of prisoners
detained in the mansion of the Procureur
Syndic ; and he thought with horror and con-
sternation of the penalty incurred by his
share in the plot. He found that previous to
the departure of the courier, Monsieur de lio-
meuf had arrived at Varennes, and been com-
pelled to deliver to the municipal officer the
302 THE TUILERIES.
official mandate of General La Fayette, com-
manding the arrest of the royal family, and
their compulsory return to Paris, — a service for
the execution of which he was bitterly reviled
by Marie Antoinette. But Valazy was aware
that his young colleague entertained the most
enthusiastic confidence at once in the intentions
and powers of their common chief ; and that in
attempting to assure the Queen of the protec-
tion and security she would derive from the
guardianship of the commander-in-chief of the
National Guard, he was only expressing his
sincere conviction on the subject. He re-
joiced, however, that the painful duty of
bearing this mandate had not been imposed
on himself. He felt that the reproaches of
Madame de St. Florentin's illustrious friend
would have been deeply afflicting to his heart ;
and that he could not have conscientiously ut-
tered an assurance of safety, where he was se-
cretly persuaded of the existence of dangers of
the darkest kind. The more fully he became
aware of La Fayette's desire to favour the escape
of their Majesties, the more was he assured of im-
pending dangers yet unsuspected by the public !
THE TUILERJES. 303
But his own course ! — how could he best re-
concile his official duties with his intimate per-
suasion of the secret views of his commanding
officer, and with the suggestions of his own
grateful predilections? Suddenly recollecting
the family connexion between Bouille and La
Fayette, he resolved to make it a pretext for a
private communication with the former ; and
instead of proceeding on the road to St. Mene-
hould, he now struck off through the woods, —
following the track left by the squadrons on the
preceding day, — and took his way at full speed
towards Dun, where he doubted not to meet
with further intelligence. He was persuaded
that, on the first alarm of the royal arrest,
the Marquis de Bouille, with the regiment of
Royal Allemand, and others of approved fide-
lity from the camp recently formed at Mont-
medy, would attempt the rescue of the King ;
and resolving on his own part to suggest
that the attack should be made on the open
road, rather than at St. Menehould or Cler-
mont, where the National Guards were strongly
interested in the popular cause, and disposed
304< THE TUILERJES.
against the military, he determined to lend his
best efforts to the undertaking.
" If I am mistaken in my interpretation of
General La Fayette^ wishes," thought he, " and
even should the attempt prove as abortive as
every other measure connected with the for-
tunes of the King and Queen, I must push
my way to Metz, and over the frontier to
Coblentz — At the worst — I can die ! — Heaven
knows I have little to render either exile or the
grave repugnant to my feelings. Perhaps she
will scorn me less when she knows I have pe-
rished in the cause she loves !"
The sun rose upon his path, as Valazy pur-
sued his way through the forest road. Dash-
ing the dew from the hazel-bushes as he gal-
loped wildly along, and disturbing from their
morning song the multitude of birds who had
built their unmolested nests in these lonely
woods, — he could perceive where the detachment
of dragoons had forced its progress, by the en-
tangled aud fading wreaths of woodbine which
had been rent away, and by the wild roses tram-
pled under foot. Still, notwithstanding these
THE TUILERIES. 305
traces of recent passage, there was a profound
depth of verdure — a tranquil and fragrant lone-
liness about the place — which, at any other mo-
ment, would have induced him to loiter on his
errand, and contrast the almost sacred stillness
and purity of the scene, with the fierce, tumul-
tuous, and wearisome strife of the gorgeous
dwellings and agitated city, he had left behind.
But now he was urged on by an imperious
duty — even by the hope of suspending an effu-
sion of human blood !
Fortunately for Valazy, the horse with which
he had been furnished at Pont de Somme Vesle
was one of the best of those reserved for the
service of the couriers ; and he had every ex-
pectation of reaching Dun by ten or eleven
o'clock. But on emerging from a stately grove
of arbeal trees, terminating the woodlands of
Clermont, with his eyes dazzled by the tran-
sition from their shadowy verdure to the scorch-
ing sunshine of the open fields, he perceived at
some distance before him a group of four or
five dragoons riding from the high road to-
wards a creditable-looking farm-house ; — paus-
ing occasionally to reconnoitre, as if they were
306 THE TU1LERIES.
dodging some fugitive through the meadows.
On approaching more closely upon their track,
Camille, who had the advantage of a rising
ground to assist his observations, perceived at
the distance of nearly a quarter of a mile, the
person of whom they were evidently in pursuit ;
— a horseman mounted on a tired and wretch-
ed beast, who was skulking behind some hedge-
rows, in a heathy covert of furze and broom,
adjoining the garden of the farm.
Camille instantly conceiving that the person
thus pursued must be one of the couriers des-
patched from Varennes to Stenay, dashed for-
ward to elucidate the mystery ; but in his course,
to his great vexation, he suddenly found him-
self on the brink of a gravelly hollow, — the
channel of a deep and rapid current ; and being
delayed by the difficulty of getting his horse
across this awkward pass, he lost sight of all
parties on regaining the level of the meadows.
The sound of shouts in the distance served, how-
ever, to pilot him onwards ; and on passing a
screen of maple bushes, he suddenly checked
his horse, and as quickly spurred him to full
speed again, on perceiving that in the very next
THE TUTLEKIES. 307
meadow, the fugitive was engaged in defending
himself against a fierce attack on the part of
four soldiers, whom he conceived to be maraud-
ing stragglers belonging to Lauzun's hussars ;
— for the person encountering these fearful
odds, was no other than the Marquis de St.
Florentin ! —
Already he had managed to disable two of
his antagonists, one of whom had fallen sense-
less, or' perhaps dead, to the ground. But it
appeared to Valazy that the Marquis himself
sat feebly in his saddle, as if exhausted by his
exertions. — To dash forward sword in hand to
his relief was but the thought and work of a
moment ! But ere he could reach the 6pot and
interpose his assistance with any effect, the dis-
abled dragoon who had been wounded by St.
Florentin with a desperate cut in the bridle-
arm, drew out a pistol ; the flash of which tra-
versed the eyes of Camille just as he dealt a
tremendous blow to the soldier with whom St.
Florentin had been engaged. Turning fiercely
on the man by whom it was discharged, he was
about to prevent him from drawing a second
308 THE TUILERIES.
from his holster, when the dragoon struck down
his sabre with the butt of the pistol he still
held in his hand ; and instantly repeated the
stroke on the schakos of Valazy, who reeled
dizzily upon his horse, and fell stunned and
senseless to the earth !
Rapid as was the progress of these movements,
St. Florentin with a hasty glance had recog-
nized the brave defender thus strangely and op-
portunely sent to his aid. But although he had
as quickly the mortification of seeing him fall, —
and as he believed, mortally wounded, — the Mar-
quis found in the pause occasioned by his start-
ling intervention, all the advantage he so much
required, and had a moment before believed unat-
tainable. While he prepared to close with the
only dragoon still capable of very active de-
fence, — for the last of the four fled the field
on Valazy's approach, — he had the satisfaction
to see a young peasant of the country gallop
on a cart-horse to the spot, and lay about
him such lusty blows with a huge blackthorn
cudgel which he poised in his hand as lightly,
as a riding-whip, that the two remaining sol-
THE TUILERIES. 309
diers took hastily to flight ; leaving their dying
comrade in evidence of the pusillanimous part
they had taken in the affray.
But alas ! — this powerful reinforcement arrived
too late ! — A pistol-ball had penetrated the
shoulder of the Marquis de St. Florentin ; and
young Antoine Marmin, the farming lad who
had so materially and successfully seconded his
efforts, and who had now dismounted from his
panting beast of burthen, found some difficulty
in sustaining him upon his saddle ; while he
persuaded him to accept the shelter of the farm-
house whose peaked gables were visible through
the screen of maple trees, and which he pointed
out as belonging to his father.
" You will be safe at Boisgelin, noble Sir !"
said the young man, on perceiving the decora-
tion worn by St. Florentin, " in case yonder
thieves should return with a reinforcement. It
it said that half the garrison of Stenay have de-
clared in favour of the nation, to the very teeth
of the Marquis de Bouille : and I take it that
the fellows with whom I found you beset, be-
long to these mutineers. ,,
" Do you know the Marquis, my good lad,"
310 THE TUILERIES.
said St. Florentin, as they entered the little
court of the farm.
" None better, Sir ; he has often stopped at
Boisgelin on his cross-road from Chalons, to
take a cup of whey from my mother who has a
famous name for it in the country. — Hola !
Jean- Marie ! — Jacob ! — Baptiste ! — Benoit ! —
help here — fly !" and while a tribe of rough
looking fellows with blue smock-frocks and cot-
ton-nightcaps rushed from the outhouses to
perform the office of grooms to the stranger and
their young master, Antoine carefully lifted
him from his horse, and with some assistance
conveyed him into the house.
" Mother ! I have brought you a wounded
gentleman, half murdered by a cowardly band
of the Stenay hussars.'"
"Eh ! Jesus Maria! nof bon Sauveur ! — what
has happened ! — My Toinon, you are covered
with blood r
" It is not mine, mother — it is none of mine.
But do not stand parleying; tell me where
shall I convey this gentleman ? — He grows
faint, and I can scarcely support him."
" Here — this wav !" cried Lison Marmin,
THE TUILERIES. 311
recovering all her prompt address and presence
of mind, now she perceived her favourite son
to be unharmed ; and she eagerly assisted to
lay St. Florentin on her own state-bed, and to
bathe his temples and hands with vinegar, while
he lay in his deathlike swoon.
As soon, however, as he recovered to some
consciousness of what was going on around him,
and of the direful events which had recently
occurred, he persisted in his inquiries of An-
toine Marmin. " You know the commander-
in-chief, — you know Stenay ; you seem a loyal
and well-intentioned lad ?"
" I am, Sir, — I do, Sir ! — but the Marquis
de Bouille is not now at Stenay; he slept at
Dun last night."
" To Dun, then — to Dun ! my worthy fel-
low, with this paper, if you would win the
weight of your head in gold," exclaimed the
Marquis, searching in the bosom of his vest for
a billet " It is gone — I must have lost it in
the struggle !" he faltered in a failing voice.
"But never mind ! time presses — see the Mar-
quis de Bouille — tell him the King is arrested
312 THE TUILER1ES.
at Varennes ; bid him fly to the rescue ! — Say
that his friend St. Florentin was murdered
by a cowardly gang belonging to his brigade,
as he traversed the bye-ways of the country to
bear him a few words hastily traced by his
Majesty at the moment of his arrest, im-
ploring his instant assistance. Tell him, ,, con-
tinued the Marquis, with perplexed and lan-
guid utterance, u that our cause is lost, unless
through his exertions !"
" I would do your bidding, Sir," interrupted
the young fellow, with a look of much concern,
" both for the good King's sake — God help
him ! — and for your own ; but we have not
horse or colt left in the stable of Boisgelin. My
father is gone on brown Jocrisse to the market
at Stenay ; — and I have sent off Baptiste on the
brood mare to fetch the surgeon of Bri-
queshen."
" Great God! how unlucky!" faltered St.
Florentin ; u all then is over ! — Alas ! for Louis
and for my country !"
Lison now implored her unfortunate guest to
compose himself, while she attempted to staunch
THE TUILEE1ES. 313
the blood which welled in frightful quantities
from his wound, increasing the painful dizziness
of his frame.
" It matters not," said he, with a mournful
smile. " The surgeon whom you have so un-
luckily sought on my account, will tell you, if
he is worth his errand, that I shall not see the
• rising of another sun !"
And Lison, with tears streaming down her
face, recollected this melancholy foreboding
when she composed the limbs of the unfortu-
nate Marquis de St. Florentin for the grave,
before the dawn of the following day !
END OF VOLUME I.
VOL. I.
LONDON
IBOTSON AND PALMER , PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
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