The Red City: A Novel of the Second Administration of President Washington

by S. Weir Mitchell

  XVI

  Least of all did De Courval like the change to the busy life of thecity. A growing love, which he knew would arouse every prejudice hismother held dear, occupied his mind when he was not busy with Schmidt'saffairs or still indecisively on the outlook for his enemy. Genet,dismissed, had gone to New York to live, where later he married De WittClinton's sister, being by no means willing to risk his head in France.His secretary, as De Courval soon heard, was traveling until the newminister arrived. Thus for the time left more at ease, De Courvalfenced, rode, and talked with Schmidt.

  December of this calamitous year went by and the rage of partiesincreased. Neither French nor English spared our commerce. The lattertook the French islands, and over a hundred and thirty of our ships wereseized as carriers of provisions and ruthlessly plundered, their crewsimpressed and many vessels left to rot, uncared for, at the wharves ofSan Domingo and Martinique. A nation without a navy, we were helpless.There was indeed enough wrong done by our old ally and by themother-country to supply both parties in America with good reasons forwar.

  The whole land was in an uproar and despite the news of the Terror inFrance, the Jacobin clubs multiplied in many cities North and South,and broke out in the wildest acts of folly. In Charleston they pulleddown the statue of the great statesman Pitt. The Democratic Club of thatcity asked to be affiliated with the Jacobin Club in Paris, while thecity council voted to use no longer the absurd titles "Your Honour" and"Esquire."

  Philadelphia was not behindhand in folly, but it took no official form.The astronomer Rittenhouse, head of the Republican Club, appeared oneday at the widow's and showed Schmidt a copy of a letter addressed tothe Vestry of Christ Church. He was full of it, and when, later, Mr.Jefferson appeared, to get the chocolate and the talk he dearly liked,Rittenhouse would have had him sign the appeal.

  "This, Citizen," said the astronomer, "will interest and please you."

  The Secretary read, with smiling comments: "'To the Vestry of ChristChurch: It is the wish of the respectable citizens that you cause to beremoved the image of George the Second from the gable of Christ Church.'Why not?" said the Secretary, as he continued to read aloud: "'Thesemarks of infamy cause the church to be disliked.'"

  "Why not remove the church, too?" said Schmidt.

  "'T is of as little use," said Jefferson, and this Mrs. Swanwick did notlike. She knew of his disbelief in all that she held dear.

  "Thou wilt soon get no chocolate here," she said; for she feared no oneand at times was outspoken.

  "Madame, I shall go to meeting next First Day with the citizen Friends.My chocolate, please." He read on, aloud: "'It has a tendency to keepthe young and virtuous away.' That is you and I, Rittenhouse--'theyoung and virtuous.'" But he did not sign, and returned this amazingdocument, remarking that his name was hardly needed.

  "They have refused," said the astronomer, "actually refused, and it isto be removed by outraged citizens to-day, I hear. A little morechocolate, Citess, and a bun--please."

  "Citess, indeed! When thou art hungry enough to speak the King'sEnglish," said Mrs. Swanwick, "thou shall have thy chocolate; and if thygrammar be very good, there will be also a slice of sally-lunn."

  The philosopher repented, and was fed, while Schmidt remarked on theimmortality a cake may confer; but who Sally was, no one knew.

  "You will be pleased to hear, Rittenhouse, that Dr. Priestly is come tothe city," said the Secretary. "He is at the Harp and Crown on ThirdStreet."

  "I knew him in England," said Schmidt; "I will call on him to-day. Agreat chemist, Rene, and the finder of a new gas called oxygen."

  When the star-gazer had gone away the Secretary, after some talk aboutthe West Indian outrages, said: "I shall miss your chocolate, Madame,and my visits. You have heard, no doubt, of the cabinet changes."

  "Some rumors, only," said Schmidt.

  "I have resigned, and go back to my home and my farming. Mr. Hamiltonwill also fall out this January, and General Knox, no very great loss.Colonel Pickering takes his place."

  "And who succeeds Hamilton, sir?"

  "Oh, his satellite, Wolcott. The ex-Secretary means to pull the wires ofhis puppets. He loves power, as I do not. But the chocolate, alas!"

  "And who, may I ask," said Mrs. Swanwick, "is to follow thee, FriendJefferson?"

  "Edmund Randolph, I believe. Bradford will have his place ofAttorney-General. And now you have all my gossip, Madame, and I leavenext week. I owe you many thanks for the pleasant hours in your home.Good-by, Mr. Schmidt; and Vicomte, may I ask to be remembered to yourmother? I shall hope to be here now and then."

  "We shall miss thee, Friend Jefferson," said the widow.

  "I would not lessen thy regrets," he said. "Ah, one lingers." He kissedthe hand he held, his bright hazel eyes aglow. "Good-by, Miss Margaret."And bowing low, he left them.

  Schmidt looked after him, smiling.

  "Now thou art of a mind to say naughty things of my friend," said Mrs.Swanwick. "I know thy ways."

  "I was, but I meant only to criticize his politics. An intelligent oldfox with golden eyes. He is of no mind to accept any share of thetrouble this English treaty will make, and this excise tax."

  Rene, who was beginning to understand the difficulties in a cabinetwhere there was seldom any unanimity of opinion, said: "There will bemore peace for the President."

  "And less helpful heads," said Schmidt. "Hamilton is a great loss, andJefferson in some respects. They go not well in double harness. Come,Rene, let us go and see the philosopher. I knew him well. Great men arerare sights. A Jacobin philosopher! But there are no politics in gases."

  The chemist was not at home, and hearing shouts and unusual noise onSecond Street, they went through Church Alley to see what might be thecause. A few hundred men and boys of the lower class were gathered infront of Christ Church, watched by a smaller number of better-dressedpersons, who hissed and shouted, but made no attempt to interfere when,apparently unmolested, a man, let down from the roof of the gable, toreoff the leaden medallion of the second George[1] amid the cheering andmad party cries of the mob.

  [1] The leaden bas-relief has since been replaced.

  Schmidt said: "Now they can say their prayers in peace, these JacobinChristians."

  In one man's mind there was presently small thought of peace. When thecrowd began to scatter, well pleased, Schmidt saw beside him De laForet, consul-general of France, and with him Carteaux. He threw hisgreat bulk and broad shoulders between De Courval and the Frenchmen,saying: "Let us go. Come, Rene."

  As he spoke, Carteaux, now again in the service, said: "We do it betterin France, Citizen Consul. The Committee of Safety and Pere Couthonwould have shortened the preacher by a head. Oh, they are leaving. Haveyou seen the caricature of the aristocrat Washington on the guillotine?It has made the President swear, I am told."

  As he spoke, De Courval's attention was caught by the French accentsand something in the voice, and he turned to see the stranger who spokethus insolently.

  "Not here, Rene. No! no!" said Schmidt. He saw De Courval's face growwhite as he had seen it once before.

  "Let us go," said De la Foret.

  "A feeble mob of children," returned Carteaux.

  As he spoke, De Courval struck him a single savage blow full in theface.

  "A fight! a fight!" cried the crowd. "Give them room! A ring! a ring!"

  There was no fight in the slighter man, who lay stunned and bleeding,while Rene struggled in Schmidt's strong arms, wild with rage.

  "You have done enough," said the German; "come!" Rene, silent, himselfagain, stared at the fallen man.

  "What is the meaning of this outrage!" said De la Foret. "Your name,sir?"

  "I am the Vicomte de Courval," said Rene, perfectly cool. "You will findme at Madame Swanwick's on Front Street."

  Carteaux was sitting upon the sidewalk, still dazed and bleeding. Thecrowd looked on. "He hits hard," said one.

  "Come, Rene," said the German, and they walked away, Rene st
ill silent.

  "I supposed it would come soon or late," said Schmidt. "We shall hearfrom them to-morrow."

  "Rene struggled in Schmidt's arms, wild with rage"]

  "_Mon Dieu_, but I am glad. It is a weight off my mind. I shall killhim."

  Schmidt was hardly as sure. Neither man spoke again until they reachedhome.

  "Come to my room, Rene," said the German after supper. "I want to settlethat ground-rent business."

  As they sat down, he was struck with the young man's look of elation."Oh, my pipe first. Where is it? Ah, here it is. What do you mean todo?"

  "Do? I do not mean to let him think it was only the sudden anger of aFrench gentleman at a Jacobin's vile speech. He must know why I struck."

  "That seems reasonable."

  "But I shall not involve in my quarrel a man of your rank. I shall askDu Vallon."

  "Shall you, indeed! There is wanted here a friend and an older head.What rank had I when you saw me through my deadly duel with El Vomito?Now, no more of that." De Courval yielded.

  "I shall write to him and explain my action. He may put it as he pleasesto others."

  "I see no better way. Write now, and let me see your letter."

  Rene sat at the table and wrote while Schmidt smoked, a troubled andthoughtful man. "He is no match for that fellow with the sword; andyet"--and he moved uneasily--"it will be, on the whole, better than thepistol." Any thought of adjustment or of escape from final resort to theduel he did not consider. It would have been out of the question forhimself and, as he saw it, for any man of his beliefs and training.

  "Here it is, sir," said Rene. The German gentleman laid down his longpipe and read:

  SIR: I am desirous that you should not consider my action as the result of what you said in my hearing to M. de la Foret. I am the Vicomte de Courval. In the massacre at Avignon on the twelfth of September, 1791, when my father was about to be released by Jourdan, your voice alone called for his condemnation. I saw him die, butchered before my eyes. This is why I struck you.

  LOUIS RENE DE COURVAL.

  "That will do," said Schmidt. "He shall have it to-night. You will havea week to spend with Du Vallon. No prudent man would meet you in thecondition in which you left him."

  "I suppose not. I can wait. I have waited long. I regret the delaychiefly because in this city everything is known and talked about, andbefore we can end the matter it will be heard of here."

  "Very probably; but no one will speak of it before your mother, and youmay be sure that these good people will ask no questions, and onlywonder and not realize what must come out of it."

  "Perhaps, perhaps." He was not so sure and wished to end it at once.

  It had been in his power to have made the social life of the betterrepublicans impossible for his father's murderer; but this might havedriven Carteaux away and was not what he desired. The constant thoughtof his mother had kept him as undecided as Hamlet, but now a suddenburst of anger had opened the way to what he longed for. He was glad.

  When, that night, Jean Carteaux sat up in bed and read by dimcandlelight De Courval's letter, he, too, saw again the great hall atAvignon and recalled the blood madness. His Jacobin alliances had closedto him in Philadelphia the houses of the English party and theFederalists, and in the society he frequented, at the official dinnersof the cabinet officers, he had never seen De Courval, nor, indeed,heard of him, or, if at all casually, without his title and as one ofthe many _emigres_ nobles with whom he had no social acquaintance. Itwas the resurrection of a ghost of revenge. He had helped to send to theguillotine others as innocent as Jean de Courval, and then, at last, notwithout fear of his own fate, had welcomed the appointment ofcommissioner to San Domingo and, on his return to France, had securedthe place of secretary to Genet's legation. The mockery of Frenchsentiment in the clubs of the American cities, the cockades, and redbonnets, amused him. It recoiled from personal violence, and saying wildthings, did nothing of serious moment. The good sense and the trust ofthe great mass of the people throughout the country in one man promisedlittle of value to France, as Carteaux saw full well when the recall ofGenet was demanded. He felt the chill of failure in this cooler air, butwas of no mind to return to his own country. He was intelligent, and,having some means, meant that his handsome face should secure for him anAmerican wife, and with her a comfortable dowry; for who knew of hisobscure life in Paris? And now here was that affair at Avignon and theruin of his plans. He would at least close one mouth and deny what itmight have uttered. There was no other way, and for the rest--well, aFrench _emigre_ had heard him speak rashly and had been brutal. TheJacobin clubs would believe and stand by him. De la Foret must arrangethe affair, and so far this insolent _ci-devant_ could have said nothingelse of moment.

  De la Foret called early the next day, and was referred to Schmidt asRene left the room. No pacific settlement was discussed or evenmentioned. The consul, well pleased, accepted the sword as the weapon,and this being Sunday, on Thursday at 7 A.M. there would be lightenough, and they would cross on the ice to New Jersey; for this year onecould sleigh from the city to the capes, and from New York to CapeCod--or so it was said.

  Meanwhile the Jacobin clubs rang with the insult to a French secretary,and soon it was the talk in the well-pleased coffee-houses and at thetables of the great merchants. Rene said nothing, refusing to gratifythose who questioned him.

  "A pity," said Mrs. Chew to Penn, the Governor, as men still called him."And why was it? The young man is so serious and so quiet and, as Ihear, religious. I have seen him often at Christ Church with his mother,or at Gloria Dei."

  "One can get a good deal of religion into a blow," remarked Hamilton,"or history lies. The man insulted him, I am told, and the vicomtestruck him." Even Hamilton knew no more than this.

  "Still, there are milder ways of calling a man to account," said youngThomas Cadwalader, while Hamilton smiled, remembering that savage duelin which John Cadwalader, the father, had punished the slanderer,General Conway.

  "Will there be a fight?" said Mrs. Byrd.

  "Probably," said Penn, and opinion among the Federals was all for thevicomte. Meanwhile no one spoke of the matter at the widow's quiethouse, where just now the severe winter made social visits rare.

  As for De Courval he fenced daily with Du Vallon, who was taken intotheir confidence and shared Schmidt's increasing anxiety.