The Chevalier De Maison Rouge (40 page)

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE C N" I E R G E B I E.

AT an angle of the Pont au Change, and of the Qnai

aux Fleurs, rose the remains of the old palace of St.

Louis, called par excellence the palace, as Rome is called

the city, and which still continues to retain the royal

cognomen, when the only kings who inhabit it are the

registrars, the judges, and the pleaders. The house of

justice was a large and somber building, exciting more

fear than love for the goddess. There might be seen

united in this narrow space all the instruments and

attributes of human vengeance. In the first ward were

those who had been arraigned for crime ; further on

where they were tried ; and lower down the dungeons of

the condemned. By the door was a small space where

the red-hot iron stamped its mark of infamy ; and about

one hundred and fifty paces from the first, another space,

far more extensive, where the last act of the fearful

tragedy took place that is to say, La Greve, where they

finished the work previously sketched out for them at

the palace. Justice, as we see, reigned paramount over

all. All these portions of the edifice joined one with

another, sullen-looking, dark, and gray, pierced by iron-

grated windows, where the gaping arches resemble the

grated dens extending along the side of the Quai des

Lunettes. This is the conciergerie. This prison con-

tains dens washed by the black mud from the waters of

the Seine ; it also possesses mysterious issues, by which

are conveniently conducted to the river those miserable

victims whom it is their interest to remove. Seen in

1793, the conciergerie liberally disgorged its prisoners,

within the hour arrested and condemned to die upon the

scaffold. At this epoch the old prison of St. Louis was

literally the Hold of Death. Under the arches some

gates were hung, and at night a red lantern was sus-

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 267

pended there, fit emblem of this abode of misery and

despair.

The evening preceding the day when Louis, Maurice,

and Genevieve were breakfasting together, a dull rum-

bling shook the pavement of the quay, and rattled the

windows of the prison, then ceased before the arched

gate. The gendarmes knocked with the handles of their

swords, the gates opened, and a voiture entered the

court ; when the hinges had turned and the rusty bolt

ground round, a female descended. The gaping wicket

opened immediately to receive her, and closed upon her.

Three or four curious heads protruded to gaze upon the

prisoner by the light of the flambeau, appeared in mez-

zo-tinto, then vanished in the darkness, while vulgar

jokes and rude laughter passed between the men leaving,

who could be heard, though not seen. The person thus

brought remained at the wicket with the gendarmes ; she

saw it would be necessary to pass through a second, but

forgot at the same time to raise the foot and lower the

head, as there is a step to ascend and a beam which de-

scends. The prisoner, although unfortunately habituated

to prison architecture, notwithstanding her long sojourn

there, omitted to stoop, and struck her forehead violently

against the bar.

" Arc you much hurt, citoyenne ?"' demanded one of the gendarmes.

"'Nothing can hurt me now," she replied, tranquilly ; and passed on without uttering a single complaint,

although sanguinary traces of the injury remained upon

her brow.

Shortly, the armchair of the porter became visible

a chair more venerated by the prisoners than the throne

of the king by his courtiers ; for the concierge of a,

prison is the dispenser of favor, and all mercy is impor-

tant to a prisoner, as sometimes the smallest kindness

may change the darkest gloom to a heaven of light.

The concierge, Richard, installed in his armchair, felt a

due perception of his own importance. He remained

undisturbed even when the rumbling of the carriage

268 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

announced a new arrival. He inhaled some snuff, re-

garded the prisoner, opened a large register, and looked

for a pen in the little ink-horn of black wood, where the

ink, incrusted on the sides, retained in the center a

moldy humidity, as in the midst of the crater of Vesuvius

there always remains a certain degree of heat.

" Citizen Concierge," said the chief of the escort,

" write, and write quickly, for they are impatiently

awaiting us at the Commune."

" I will not be long," said the concierge, at the same time emptying into the inkstand some drops of wine remaining at the bottom of his glass ; " we are a good

hand at this, thank God ! Your name and surname, cit-

oyenne ? " said he, and, dipping his pen at the same

time into this improvisatory ink, he commenced writing

at the bottom of a page already nearly filled. The new

arrival, while standing behind his chair, the Citoyenne

Richard, a female of benevolent aspect, contemplated,

with a mixture of astonishment and respect, this woman,

so sad, so noble, and so proud.

" Marie Antoinette Jean Joseph de Lorraine," replied the prisoner, " Archduchess of Austria and Queen of

France."

" Queen of France ! " repeated the concierge, raising himself in astonishment by the arms of his chair.

" Queen of France," repeated the prisoner, in the same voice.

" Otherwise called the widow of Capet," said the chief of the escort.

" Under which of these names am I to designate her ? "

demanded the concierge.

" Whichever you please, only do it quickly," said the chief of the escort.

The concierge reseated himself, and with a trembling

hand wrote down the name, surname, and titles given

him by the prisoner, inscriptions of which the ink still

appears visible this day upon the register of which the

revolutionary rats of the conciergeriehad nibbled the leaf

but respected the parts most precious. Richard's wife still THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 269

retained her position behind her husband's chair, and re-

mained standing with her hands clasped together, com-

miserating the situation of the unfortunate being before

her.

" Yonr age ? " continued the concierge.

" Thirty-seven years and nine months," replied the queen.

Richard wrote this down, then the description, and

finished with the regular notes and forms.

" There," said he, " that is completed."

"Where shall we conduct the prisoner ?" said the

chief of the escort.

Eichard helped himself to a second pinch of snuff, and

looked at his wife.

"Dame," said he, "we did not anticipate this, and have not long known it."

" Yon must find out," said the brigadier.

"There is the council chamber," said Richard's wife.

" Too large,'' murmured Richard.

" So much the better ; you can the more easily place

the guards."

" Go to the. council chamber,'' said Richard. " But it is not habitable at this moment ; it has no bed."

" True," replied his wife ; " I bad quite forgotten that."

" Bali ! " said one of the gendarmes, "''you can put a bed there tomorrow, and to-morrow will soon be here."

"' Besides, the citoyenne could occupy our chamber for one night ; could she not. my man ? ''said Richard's wife.

" And what are we to do ? " said the concierge.

"Oh. wo can do without a bed for one night ; and, as

the citizen gendarme observes, the night is nearly gone."

" Then,'' said Richard, " conduct the citoyenne to my chamber."

"'And in the meanwhile you will prepare our receipt ?"

" It shall be ready on your return."

Richard's wife took the candle from the table, and went

first to lead the way. Marie Antoinette followed with-

out uttering a word, calm and pale as usual. Two turn-

keys, at a sign from Richard's wife, accompanied them.

270 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

The queen was shown her bed, on which the woman pro-

ceeded to place clean sheets. The turnkeys installed

themselves outside ; the door was closed, then double

locked. And Marie Antoinette was left at last alone.

How she passed that night no one ever knew. Probably

in close communion with her God. On the next day

the queen was conducted to the council chamber. This

was a long, four-sided room, of which the wicket-door

opened upon a corridor of the conciergerie, divided the

whole length by a partition, which did not reach the

height of the ceiling. One of these compartments was

occupied by the men on guard. The other was the

chamber of the queen. A window, thickly grated with

small iron bars, lighted both these cells. A folding-

screen, the substitute for a door, secluded the queen

from the guards, and closed the aperture in the middle.

The whole of this room was paved with brick. The

walls, ut one period or another, had been decorated with

gilt picture-frames, where still hung some shreds of paper

fleur-de-lis. A bed was placed opposite the window, and

a single chair near the light. This was all the furniture

the royal prison contained. On entering, the queen

requested her books and works might be forwarded to

her. They brought her the " Revolutions d'Angleterre,"

which she had commenced in the temple, the " Voyages

do Jeune Anacharse," and her tapestry. The gendarmes

established themselves in the adjoining compartment.

History has preserved their names, as it has done that of

many others more infamous, associated by destiny in

these great events, and who saw reflected on them a frag-

ment of that light cast by the thunderbolt which des-

troys the thrones of kings, perhaps even the kings

themselves. They were called Duchesne and (Jilbert.

These two men were selected by the Commune, who knew

them to be stanch patriots. They were to remain at

their posts in their cell till the sentence of Marie An-

toinette. They hoped by this measure to avoid the irreg-

ularities consequent upon a change of office several

times during the day, and therefore laid the guards under

THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE. 271

a heavy responsibility. The queen first became ac-

quainted with this new regulation from the conversation

of the gendarmes, who, omitting to speak softly, their

discourse reached her ears. She experienced at once

joy and disquietude ; for if, on the one hand, she felt

that these men ought to be trustworthy, since they had

been chosen from a multitude, on the other side, she re-

flected her friends might more easily corrupt two known

men at their post, than a hundred unknown individuals

selected by chance, passing near her occasionally, and

then only for a single day. On the first night before she

retired, one of the gendarmes, according to his usual

custom, began to smoke. The noxious vapor glided im-

perceptibly round the screen, and through the aperture,

enveloping the unfortunate queen, whose misfortunes had

irritated instead of deadening her nerves. She soon felt

herself seized with nausea and swimming in the head ;

but, true to her indomitable system of firmness, she ut-

tered no complaint. During her melancholy vigil, while

nothing disturbed the deep silence of the night, she

fancied she heard plaintive cries outside. These cries

were mournful and prolonged ; there was about them

something unearthly and piercing, like the howling of

wind in the dark and deserted corridor, when the tempest

borrows the human voice to animate the passions of the

elements. She soon recognized the noises that had at

first startled her, the doleful and persevering cry, as that of a dog running along the quay. She immediately remembered her poor little Jet, whom she never thought

of when they removed her from the Temple, and now

believed she could recognize his voice. Indeed, the poor

little animal, who by his mistaken vigilance had ruined

his mistress, had, unperceived, descended behind her,

and followed the carriage as far as the grating of the con-

ciergerie, where he continued till he narrowly escaped

being cut in two by the double door of iron which closed

behind her. But the faithful creature had soon returned,

and, comprehending that his mistress was confined in

this great stone building, he howled and whined, wait-

272 THE CHEVALIER DE MAISON ROUGE.

ing, within ten feet of the sentinel, a caressive reply.

The queen replied by a heart-broken sigh, which reached

the ears of her guards ; but as this sigh was not repeated

and no other sounds proceeded from the queen's chamber,

they again composed themselves, and relapsed into their

former state of drowsiness.

At break of day the queen rose and dressed herself,

then took her seat near the window, the light from which,

intercepted by the grating of iron bars, fell with a bluish tint upon her emaciated hands, in which she held a book.

She was apparently reading, but her thoughts were far

away. The gendarme Gilbert half opened the screen,