The Dark Secret of Josephine Read online

  ‘What of the others who were later drawn in by the three of your own choice?’

  ‘Unfortunately those who proved most valuable as allies in the plot were all men I would gladly have seen dead. Among them were the despicable Abbé Sieyès, the terrorist Fréron, and my own most dangerous enemy Joseph Fouché, who adds to his other crimes the role of the Revolution’s high-priest of atheism. The only bond they had in common was the knowledge that if they did not swiftly strike at Robespierre he would have all their heads in the basket before they were a month older. But mutual fear spurred them to sink their differences and pull him down.’

  ‘And you think this godless, blood-stained crew will be able to maintain themselves in power?’

  ‘There being no opposition worthy of the name, I can see nothing to prevent a number of them doing so. They will, of course, fight among themselves, and some of their heads will fall; but between them they now control the two great Comités, the National Guard, the Army and the vast secret police organisation built up during the Terror; so those among them who survive will be able to rule in the same arbitrary fashion as their predecessors.’

  ‘That they might be able to I will grant you, but that they intend to do so I regard as unlikely,’ the Prime Minister remarked with a sudden display of his dictatorial manner. ‘You are not up to date with the news, Mr. Brook, or you would realise that in the past month the French government has shown a definite change of heart. The iniquitous Law of the 22nd Prairial has been repealed, the Revolutionary Tribunal has been reorganised to give it some semblance of a court of justice, and hundreds of prisoners have been released from the Paris jails.’

  With a disarming smile Roger replied: ‘I am most pleased to learn of it, but not at all surprised. I felt confident that once the fanatics had been brought to book a marked decrease in senseless savagery would follow. The new masters are no set of fools, and one could count on their pandering to the reaction so far as they felt that they could win cheap popularity at no risk to themselves. But it would be a great mistake to regard these measures of clemency as a sign of weakness.’

  ‘I said nothing of weakness. I spoke of a change of heart. I am informed that in Paris there is already wide-spread talk of a return to the Constitution of ’91, and a restoration of the Monarchy.’

  ‘I pray you, Sir, put no credence in such rumours.’

  ‘Why?’ Mr. Pitt refilled his glass and gave the decanter a quick push in Roger’s direction. ‘You say that these people are no fools. Now, then, is the chance for them to show real statemanship. With the temper of the nation so clearly known they might take the tide at flood and execute a complete volte-face. Did they call off the war and invite the armies of the Princes to enter Paris they would be rewarded with fortunes, honours and the gratitude of their fellow countrymen. Consider how much they have to gain by such a move.’

  ‘On the contrary, Sir, they would have all to lose. Every one of them voted for the death of Louis XVI. To them more than most: applies the saying “Put not thy trust in Princes”. Were I in their shoes I would regard signing a pact with their Highnesses, his brothers, as putting my hand to my own death warrant.’

  ‘Your travels have made you cynical, Mr. Brook.’

  ‘Nay, Sir; but “a wee bit canny”, as my dear mother would have said.’

  ‘An excellent quality for one whose life has depended on his discretion, as yours must often have done. Yet it is a mistake to allow the caution you would exercise yourself to blind you to the possibility that others may take big risks to win great rewards.’

  Distinctly nettled, Roger retorted with an angry flash in his blue eyes: ‘There have, Sir, been many occasions when I have done so in your interests. Nevertheless I would serve you ill did I not caution you now against succumbing to delusions that events in France will take the happy turn you so obviously expect.’

  Having given vent to this outburst, he began to wonder if, in his anxiety to counter the Prime Minister’s optimism, he had not somewhat over-stated his case. Before leaving Paris he had himself felt certain that the Terror had passed its peak, and it was possible that he had underestimated the strength and swiftness with which reaction would set in. Yet, as he recalled the many fierce, uncouth, suspicious, brutal men who had played so large a part in making the Revolution, and still occupied key posts in its administration, he remained convinced that they would go to any lengths rather than enter into a compromise with the émigrés.

  After a moment Mr. Pitt had the grace to say: ‘I intended no reflection on your courage. No one could have shown more audactiy than yourself in your numerous attempts to rescue members of the Royal Family; and it was hard indeed that misfortune should have dogged you to the very last, when you actually believed that you had secured the little King of France.’

  Roger gave a bitter laugh. ‘Fate can rarely have played a man a more scurvy trick than that, for I shall never now be able to collect the hundred thousand pounds you promised me for the safe delivery of his person.’

  For a little they fell silent and the quiet of the garden was broke only by the drowsy hum of bees among the flowers in the nearby borders; then the Prime Minister said thoughtfully: ‘You say that the child who is still in the Temple had been walled-up for six months, and that during that time his food was passed to him through a grill which prevented even his jailers seeing him. It is not to be wondered at that when you broke your way in you found him living like an animal, in an indescribable state of filth, scrofulous and ulcerated from neglect, and so ill that he could do no more than mutter a few almost incoherent words. Yet it seems to me that such conditions would have changed any child beyond normal recognition. Are you convinced beyond any shadow of doubt that he was not Marie Antoinette’s son?’

  ‘Certain of it, Sir. This child was at least two years old, and I had known the Dauphin well. Barras and Fouché saw him shortly after I did, and both were equally convinced that some other child had been substituted for the little Capet’

  ‘And you think the substitution was made by Simon on the orders of Chaumette or Hébert, at the time of the walling up, in January?’

  ‘Yes; and since all three of them are dead there are no possible means of tracing the victim of their intrigue.’

  ‘Victim, in its full sense, may not be the appropriate word. The poor child may still be a captive in some Parisian cellar, or hidden on a lonely farm.’

  Roger had never previously lied to his master, but he did so now. He knew Louis XVII to be dead. How and where the boy had died was a secret that he had no intention of ever telling anyone, and the knowledge of it could be of no value to Mr. Pitt, so he said:

  ‘Should that be so, and there is a counter-revolution in a few years’ time, the people now acting as his jailers may pretend that they kept him hidden for his own safety, and produce him in the hope of receiving a great reward. But I greatly doubt it. When I last saw the boy his mind had been so brutalised and bemused by Simon that he had already almost forgotten that he was born a Prince; and it is most unlikely that whoever took him from the Temple would have disclosed his identity to his new guardians, for to do so would have been to risk their using him for their own ends. My own. belief is that the sadist Hébert murdered him rather than allow Robespierre to get possession of so valuable a card. Otherwise, when he and Chaumette were brought to trial in March, why did not one or other of them offer to produce the priceless hostage they held in exchange for their own lives? In any case, the wretched child had been reduced to a state which made him hopelessly unfitted to succeed; so the wisest course would be to leave him out of all future calculations and account him dead.’

  Mr. Pitt refilled his glass from the half-empty decanter, and murmured: ‘Mayhap you’re right; but ’tis a tragedy that bodes ill for the future of France.’

  ‘Why so, Sir?’

  ‘Because we must now regard his uncle, that pig-headed fool the Comte de Provence, as Louis XVIII. Had you succeeded in bringing the boy here we m
ight have been able to make something of him, and sent him back well grounded in our democratic ideas to play the part of a good Constitutional Monarch. As things are now, when de Provence ascends the throne, so full is he of antiquated prejudices, he will endeavour to set the clock back a hundred years, and rob his people of the long overdue liberties they won for themselves in the early days of the Revolution. Then we shall be faced with the dilemma whether to continue our support of him as France’s legitimate ruler, or stand by while the people revolt again, and perhaps once more become a menace to order and security throughout Europe.’

  ‘It will be a long time before you are called on to add that problem to your other worries,’ Roger said with a shrug.

  ‘On the contrary,’ came the swift reply. ‘I foresee myself having to do so within a year from now.’

  With a somewhat rueful smile, Roger enquired: ‘Am I to take it then, that you still believe me wrong in my assessment of the way things will go in Paris?’

  ‘No. Your appreciations have always been so well founded that you have sadly reduced the hopes I had of being able to make a peace with the new government. But there are other means by which the French nation may be brought to reason, and I had in mind the advance of the Allied armies.’

  ‘Strap me!’ exclaimed Roger, drawing up his long legs with a jerk. ‘Do you then believe, Sir, that within a measurable time they are capable of achieving a conclusive victory?’

  ‘I shall be much surprised if they do not. ’Tis true that we have suffered a considerable setback owing to the victory the French gained at Fleurus towards the end of June; but the daily increasing strength of the Coalition should soon do far more than make good that misfortune. In return for handsome subsidies, which owing to good management Britain can afford to pay, both Austria and Prussia are putting new contingents in the field, and our measures for raising many more troops in this country are at last taking effect.’

  ‘When I saw you at Walmer in February you spoke of raising eight new regiments this autumn. Is it to them that you refer, Sir?’

  ‘It is,’ Mr. Pitt replied with a self-satisfied nod.

  Mentally Roger groaned. Aloud he said: ‘Then you must forgive me if I doubt the ability of such a reinforcement, plus some hired Germans, to turn the scale against the levies raised this year by the French. The indefatigable Carnot, whom I believe history will rank as the greatest War Minister France has ever had, set himself to raise fourteen armies, and he is well on the way to succeeding.’

  ‘Fourteen rabbles, Mr. Brook! Fourteen rabbles! I’ll warrant you that any of them would show their heels at the very sight of a battalion of His Majestys Foot Guards.’

  ‘I’ll not argue that. But I would be mightily interested to hear on what you base your hopes of a victorious campaign. In ’92 and’93 the road to Paris was on numerous occasions left open, yet the Allies failed to take it. There is no particular reason to suppose that such opportunities will recur, and the Republican troops are in far better trim than they were then.’

  The Prime Minister airily waved a long graceful hand. ‘I agree that good opportunities were lost; but that was due to divided councils among the allied Generals, and now they are much more at one. As for the improvement in the French troops which you suggest has taken place, that will be more than offset by the handicap they are bound to suffer from incompetent leadership.’

  ‘I fear I am at a loss in seeking grounds for your last statement, Sir.’

  ‘Why, Danton at least had the sense to realise that armies cannot be handled by sans-culottes, and while he was War Minister continued to employ experienced commanders. Ask yourself what has become of them?’

  ‘Lafayette and Dumouriez came over to the Allies. The Duc de Biron, Luckner, Custine, Houchard, and the Vicomte de Beauharnais were sent one after the other to the guillotine.’

  ‘Precisely! The Robespierrists knew nothing whatever of military affairs. Any General who served them had only to suffer one reverse to be recalled, accused of treachery, and executed. The French had decapitated their own army. That is why its defeat should now prove easy, and Christmas see the Allies in Paris.’

  With an uneasy glance, Roger said: ‘You appear to have taken no account, Sir, of the ability which has been displayed by the young Generals who are products of the Revolution. Pichegru, Hoche and Jourdan, the present commanders of the armies on the Rhine, the Moselle and in Flanders, have all shown a natural flair for directing operations. The last, since his victory at Fleurus, has already wrested from us all the difficult country cut up by the Lys and the Scheldt.’

  ‘What does that signify while we still hold the fortresses of Landrecies, Quesnoy and Velenciennes? By his rash advance he has thrust his head into a noose. Prince Coburg and His Highness of York will be monstrous unlucky should they fail to trap him there. Besides, France cannot much longer afford to support a war. Her finances are in chaos, her people starving and her coasts blockaded.’

  ‘’Tis true that the past five years of upheaval have entirely wrecked the former administrative machinery of the country; but, believe me, Sir, Cambon, Cambacérès, Dubois-Crancé and others have made good that handicap by brilliant improvisation.’

  ‘Mr. Brook, an understanding of finance is not among your many talents. You may take it from me that the total destruction of a fiscal system that it took many centuries to build up must lead to bankruptcy. Wars cannot be fought without money, and a drying up of supplies must soon cripple the French armies to such a degree that they will fall an easy prey to the Allies.’

  Roger forbore to comment further. His private opinion was that his master knew even less about military affairs than had the Robespierrists, and that while they had at least had the sense to give a free hand to the brilliant Carnot, he was becoming a menace to his own most cherished hopes by putting a distorted interpretation on facts whenever they did not fit in with his own opinions.

  Having emptied his last glass of port, Mr. Pitt enquired casually: ‘When do you plan to return to France?’

  With equal casualness, Roger let fall the bomb-shell that he had come determined to deliver with his report that morning: ‘I had not thought of doing so, Sir.’

  ‘What say you?’ exclaimed his master with a startled look.

  ‘I was loath to return when I did in February, and now I am definitely set against it. In the past two years I have spent less than three months with my wife; and that is far too little for a couple who have some fondness for one another.’

  No woman had ever played a part in the life of the austere Prime Minister, so it was difficult for him to appreciate how other men could allow the attractions of feminine society to distract them, even temporarily, from the nation’s affairs. With marked coldness he spoke his mind.

  ‘If I remember aright, you gave two of the best years of your life to honeymooning in Italy and afterwards idly dancing attendance on your wife; so even if your work has since taken you from her for long periods, she has no great grounds for complaint. Officers in our ships and more distant garrisons frequently do not see their families for six years at a stretch; so I pray you do not detract from my good opinion of you by allowing the calls of domesticity to ring louder in your ears than those of duty.’

  ‘ ’Tis not that alone, Sir; but also the strain I have been under these many months past. You can have little conception what life was like in Paris this spring and summer. The elimination of the nobility, the priests and the well-to-do had long since been achieved, and the Terror was turned against anyone and everyone who cherished the mildest belief in the liberties the Revolution had been initiated to bring. The Committee of Public Safety had its spies every where and acted with fanatical ruthlessness. Each night hundreds of surprise domiciliary visits were paid, and the discovery of a fire-arm or a letter from a relative who had fled abroad was enough to land a whole family in jail. Every morning the letter-box of the infamous Public Prosecutor, Fouquier-Tinville, was stuffed with scores of denunciations, and
nine out of ten of those anonymous accusations became a death-warrant for the person named. For a single indiscreet expression, or open grumbling in the bread queues, people were seized upon and condemned to death. Even the sans-culottes had becomed cowed and no longer dared to question the will of the camarilla that held the whole nation enslaved. I was unable to prevent the death of one I dearly loved, and had to stand by while others died for whom I had considerable affection. Every hour of every day was like living through a nightmare, and I’ll have no more of it.’

  Mr. Pitt nodded, and his voice took on a more sympathetic tone: ‘That is another matter. Such conditions would in time undermine the fortitude of any man, and when I first saw you this morning I thought you looking far from well. ’Tis clear you need a period of relaxation.’

  To this belated recognition of his unhappy state, Roger replied with a bitter smile: ‘Sir, I am sick in mind and body, and need far more than that to make me my own man again.’

  ‘Oh come! ’Tis not too late in the year for you to take a holiday by the sea. The coast of Kent can be delightful in September. Allow me to give instructions for you and your wife to be installed at Walmer Castle. I know no better place for restoring a man’s peace of mind. Then when you feel equal to it you could move on to Bath or Brighton and participate for a while in the gaieties of the autumn season. By November I vow you will be spoiling to take up once more the invaluable work you have been doing for me.’

  ‘I thank you, Sir; but no. Whatever you may believe, I am convinced that for a long time to come Paris will remain a city ruled by fear, violence and arbitrary arrest. While serving you there I have made deadly enemies; and there are others there who know the double part I played. Were I betrayed, my record is such that despite any lessening of the Terror I would lose my head, and I have a whim to keep it on my shoulders. That I should have lived through the worst and got away is not due to one, but a whole series of miracles. I would be made to tempt Providence further.’