Gerald Fitzgerald: The Chevalier Part 41

It is true his companions regarded him as a wild and dreamy enthusiast, impracticable in his notions, and too hopeful of humanity; but they wisely saw how useful such an element of 'optimism' was in flavouring the ma.s.s of their dangerous doctrines, and how the sentiments of such a man served to exalt the tone of their opinions. While the conversation went on around the table, the speakers, warming with the themes, growing each moment more bold and more animated, Brissot turned his attentions entirely to Fitzgerald. He not only sketched off to him the men around the board, but, in a few light touches, characterised their opinions and views.

At the conclusion of a description in which he had spoken with the most unguarded frankness, Gerald could not help asking him how it was that he could venture to declare so openly his opinions to a perfect stranger like himself.

Brissot only smiled, but did not answer.

'For, after all,' continued Gerald, 'I am here in the camp of the enemy!

I _was_ a Royalist; I am so still.'

'But there are none left, _mon cher_; the King himself is not one.'

'Ready to die for the throne------'

'There is no throne; there is an old arm-chair, with the gilding rubbed away!'

'At all events there was a right to defend------'

'The right to live has an earlier date than the right to rule,' said Brissot gravely; and seeing that he had caught the other's attention, he launched forth into the favourite theme of his party, the wrongs of the people. Unlike the generality of his friends, Brissot did not dwell on the vices and corruptions of the n.o.bles. It was the evils of poverty he pictured; the hopeless condition of those whose misery made them friendless.

'If you but knew the suffering patience of the poor,' said he, 'the stubbornness of their devotion to those above them in station; the tacit submission with which they accept hardship as their birthright, you would despair of humanity--infinitely more from men's humility than from their cruelty! We cannot stir them; we cannot move them,' cried he.

'"They are no worse off than their fathers were," that is their reply.

If the hour come, however, that they rise up of themselves----'

Once more did Gerald revert to the hardihood of such confessions to a stranger, when the other broke in----

'Does the shipwrecked sailor on the raft hesitate to stretch out his hand to the sinking swimmer beside him. Come home with me from this, and let me speak to you. You will learn nothing from these men. There is Marat again! he has but one note in his voice, and it is to utter the cry of Blood!'

While the stormy speaker revelled wildly in the chaos of his incoherent thoughts, conjuring up scenes of ma.s.sacre and destruction, the others madly applauding him, Brissot stole away, and beckoned Gerald to follow him.

It was daybreak ere they separated, and as Gerald gained his chambers he tore the white c.o.c.kade he had long treasured as a souvenir of his days of Garde du Corps in pieces, and scattered the fragments from his window to the winds.

CHAPTER VIII. THE DePoT DE LA PReFECTURE

Gerald had scarcely fallen asleep when he was aroused by a rude crash at his door, and looking up, saw the room filled with _gendarmerie_ in full uniform. A man in plain black meanwhile approached the bed where he lay, and asked if he were called Gerald Fitzgerald.

'A _ci-devant_ Garde du Corps and a refugee too?' said the questioner, who was the subst.i.tute of the Procureur du Roi. 'This is the order to arrest you, Monsieur,' said he.

'On what charge, may I ask?' said Gerald indolently.

'It is a grave one,' said the other in a solemn voice, while he pointed to certain words in the warrant.

Gerald started as he read them, and, with a smile of scornful meaning, said--

'Is it alleged that I poisoned the Count de Mirabeau?'

'You are included among those suspected of that crime.'

'And was he poisoned, then?'

'The report of the surgeons who have examined the body is not conclusive. There are, however, sufficient grounds for investigation and inquiry. You will see, sir, that I have told you as much as I may--perhaps more than I ought.'

Left alone in his chamber that he might dress, Gerald proceeded to make his preparations with becoming speed. The order committed him to St.

Pelagie, a prison then reserved for those accused of great crimes against the state. Weighty as such a charge was, he felt in the fact of an unjust accusation a degree of courageous energy that he had not known for many a previous day. In the midst of one's self-accusings and misgivings, an ill-founded allegation brings a certain sense of relief: if this be the extent of my culpability, I may be proud of my conduct, is such satisfactory judgment to address to one's own heart. He would have felt more comfort, it is true, in the reflection, if he did not remember that it was a frequent artifice of the day to accuse men of crimes of which they were innocent, to afford time and opportunity to involve them in some more grounded charge. Many were sent to Vincennes who were never afterwards heard of; and what easier, if needed, than to dispose of one like himself, without family or friends?

Though nominally committed to St. Pelagie, such was the crowded condition of that prison that Gerald was conducted to the 'Depot de la Prefecture,' a horrible den, into which murderers, malefactors, political offenders, and thieves were indiscriminately huddled, until time offered the opportunity to sift and divide them. It was a long hall, supported on two ranges of stone pillars, with wooden guard-beds on each side, and between them a s.p.a.ce technically called 'the street.'

Four narrow windows, close to the roof, admitted a scanty light into this dreary abyss, where upward of eighty prisoners were already confined. By a sort of understanding among themselves, for no other direction existed, the prisoners had divided themselves into three distinct cla.s.ses, each of which maintained itself apart from the others.

Such as had committed capital offences or were accused of them, held the first rank, and exercised a species of general sway over all. The place occupied by them was called 'Le Nid'; they themselves were styled the 'Birds of Pa.s.sage.' The political criminals gathered in a corner named 'L'Opinion '; the rest, a large majority, were known as 'Les ames de boue.'

Gerald had but crossed the threshold of this darksome dungeon when the door closed behind him, leaving him almost in total obscurity. The heavy breathing of a number of people asleep, and the low mutterings of others suddenly awakened, showed him that the place was crowded, although as yet he could distinguish nothing. Not venturing to stir from the spot he occupied, he waited patiently till by the cold grey light of breaking day he could look at the scene before him. He was not suffered to indulge this contemplation long, for as the sleepers awoke and beheld him, a general cry was raised to pa.s.s him on to the Prevot to be cla.s.sed. Gerald obeyed the order, moving slowly up the narrow 'street'

to the end of the hall, where sat or rather lay an old man, whose imprisonment dated upward of forty years back. He was perfectly blind, and so crippled by age and rheumatism as to be utterly helpless; but notwithstanding his infirmities his voice was loud and commanding, and its tones resounded throughout the length and breadth of the prison.

After a brief routine address, informing the new arrival that for the due administration of that discipline which all societies of men demanded, he must pledge obedience to the laws of the place, and after duly promising the same, and swearing it by placing a handful of straw upon his head, Gerald was told to be seated while he was interrogated.

'Not know where you were born,' said the Prevot, 'and yet you call yourself n.o.ble! Be it so; and now your charge--what is it?'

'They accuse me of having poisoned Mirabeau.'

'And would that be called a crime?' said one.

'Against whom, I would like to know, could that be an offence?' said another. 'Not against the King, whom he had deserted, nor against the people whom he betrayed.'

'Silence!--silence in the court!' said the Prevot; then, addressing Gerald, he went on: 'with what object did you kill him?'

'I did not poison him--I am innocent,' said Gerald calmly.

'So are we all,' said the Prevot devoutly--'spotless as the snowdrift.

Who was she that persuaded you to act?--tell us her name.'

'There was no act, and could have been no suggester.'

'Young man,' said the Prevot solemnly, 'we know of but one capital crime here, that is, concealment. Be frank, therefore, and fearless.'

'I cannot be sure, if I had done this crime, that I would have confessed it here, but as I have not even imagined it, I repeat to you once more I know nothing of it.'

With an acuteness perfectly wonderful at his age, and with an intellect that retained much of its former subtlety--for the Prevot had been the first lawyer at the Lyons bar--he questioned Gerald as to what had led to the accusation. Partly to display his own powers of cross-examination, and partly that the youth's answers imparted an interest to his story, he prolonged the inquiry considerably. Nor was Gerald indisposed to speak openly about himself; it was a species of relief out of the dreary isolation in which he had recently pa.s.sed his days.

To one point the old man would, however, continue to recur without success--had some womanly influence not swayed him? Whether his heart had not been touched, and some secret spring of love had given the impulse to his character, remained a mystery.

'No man,' said the Prevot, 'ever lived as you allege. He who reads Jean Jacques lives like Rousseau; he who pores over Diderot acts the fatalist.'

'Enough of this,' cried a rough, rude voice. 'Is he of us or not?'

It was a 'Bird of Pa.s.sage' that spoke, impatient for the moment when the new-comer should pay his entrance fee.

'He is not of you, be a.s.sured of that,' said the Prevot, 'and for the present his place shall be "L'Opinion."'

By chance--a mere chance--a death on the day before had left a vacancy in that section, and thither Gerald was now with due solemnity conducted.