by Ted Bader
“Indeed he was,” John said. “However, a good captain never deserts his ship. Let us see if we can retrieve it.”
A gardener loaned them a shovel and the men were able to create enough motion in the water to bring the small boat to the other side where Sarah and Anna grabbed it. Then they enjoyed the puppet shows before going back to where Maria and Laura were seated.
“Are you too lovely ladies ready to return to the embassy?”
Laura glared briefly at John before acknowledging that it was probably time to depart. Maria seemed unsure whose side she should take in the unspoken quarrel; but, she understood Laura’s embarrassment and so she acted a bit peeved with her brother.
The group decided to walk back by a different route. Andrew carried Anna most of the way, since she had gotten quite tired on the excursion.
While the group walked quietly, the air was heavy and still, yet the atmosphere had changed. Each home or business they passed where people were gathered seemed abuzz with nervous energy and chatter. . . like the building of a storm.
John stepped into one of the establishments and asked, “What is happening?”
“Why should it matter to you British?” a man snarled.
An older gentleman said, “Don’t take it out on those around you, Jacques.” Turning to John he said, “All of Paris is in an uproar over the King’s latest proclamation. It goes against the charter! He surely cannot do it! Take a copy of the Monitor with you. It might be safest, though, if you head home to read it.”
Chapter Ten
“The King of France has done it,” Sir Thomas exclaimed to the seated members of the Staley and Darcy entourage.
“What has Charles X gone and done now, dear?” Georgiana asked.
“He has sharply limited freedom of the press, dissolved the deputy chamber and asked for an unprecedented third set of elections in one year.”
Lady Staley stood with Sarah behind her and asked, “Shall I retire with the women and children?”
“No, you need to hear about this emergency situation firsthand as we are all likely to be engulfed in it.”
The ladies sat down as Anna climbed into Sarah’s lap and Edgar edged closer to his mother.
“Why do you think he has made such a confrontational move?” Andrew asked.
“It is clear he feel his power and prerogatives are slipping. . . however, this will likely make matters worse. I daresay, his moves are a gamble; he will either restore his power; or lose the throne; or worse, lose his head (like his grandfather).”
“What is your forecast?” Andrew rejoined.
“I don’t know for sure. The devil in these matters, just like war, is their unpredictable nature.”
“What form of government do you think will emerge if the King loses?” asked Andrew. While the conversation was two-sided, all parties decided to listen to the discussion rather than interrupt.
“A revival of the republic is possible; the Bonapartists have never been happy with the restoration of the Bourbons forced upon them by the allied powers. . . It makes my leg ache to think about the possibility of such an event.”
Sarah observed that the evening was almost a briefing on the tumultuous events of Paris. She was always impressed with Sir Thomas’ way of including Georgiana, and often Sarah, in his world. She felt less frightened knowing his viewpoint was both experienced and logical. She also knew it was not often the case with husbands and hoped someday that her future husband, whomever it might be, would also be so inclusive.
Three days later Sir Thomas ushered them in and motioned for them to be seated, “Thank you, Andrew and John for answering Edgar’s summons to visit me in my study.” He then returned to the door to close it.
Sitting down, he continued, “I would like to request of you what I hope is a low risk mission for His Majesty’s government. I have no extra guards or couriers left as we are down to the minimum for the defense of the embassy.”
“Your wish is our command,” John exclaimed with Andrew nodding in agreement.
“As you are aware, the revolutionaries have blocked many, if not most, of the roads going in and out of Paris. Therefore, a carriage is out of the question and you will have to walk many miles to deliver a message.”
“Yes, of course,” John said.
“May we ask what the content of the message is?” Andrew asked.
Sir Thomas paused for a moment, and then answered, “I suppose it will not protect you, as it might a soldier, to keep you ignorant of the contents. The situation for the King of France has deteriorated. It seems clear that Charles X can no longer be the monarch. From our reports, the royal troops have lost control of Paris and alternate forms of government are being discussed at the Hotel de Ville. One of the King’s ministers has contacted me to inquire as to the possibility of Charles X seeking exile in England.”
“My standing orders as ambassador allow me to grant temporary exile to foreign citizens of any level of importance without consulting London. A permanent stay must, of course, be sought from the foreign office once the exile is on English soil. It is this letter of permission I want you to take to the palace at St. Cloud, across the Seine river.”
“How are we to dress and arm ourselves?” Andrew inquired.
“I have thought much about that. I do not wish for you to have a near miss with the guillotine as I did after the last war. So, I will ask you to travel as British citizens so as to not invoke any charges of spying. I have tried to balance two attitudes of the French–one, right now they have an intense xenophobia after emerging from an economic depression which the common man rightly or wrongly ascribes to the large influx of foreign laborers. Also, the proud Frenchman still stings from the Allied defeat at Waterloo. With you as English representatives, he may decide to vent his aggression. You will recall it was not too long ago that one of my predecessors, the Duke of Wellington, was shot at in the streets of Paris.”
“On the other hand, the leaders of the revolution are not eager to anger foreign powers since they fear another invasion to prop up the Bourbons and undo the revolution. As such, they will probably show you extreme deference as diplomats of the British crown.”
“Should we carry any arms?”
“No. You will probably be less threatening unarmed; further, you would probably be disarmed at the first barricade.”
“May I go, father?” Edgar popped up from behind the sofa near the door.
“How did you get in here?:”
“Father, you take a long time to close the door.” Edgar approached John’s chair and stood by it.
“I think it is too risky,” his father replied.
“But you said it was a low-risk adventure,” his son rejoined quietly.
“Your sweet mother would break diplomatic relations with me if I authorized such an action.”
“If I petition mother for permission to go, will you allow it?”
Thomas deliberated for a moment and replied, “I appreciate the mature manner of your request; if you obtain your mother’s sanction, I will consider the matter.”
Edgar scampered out of the room.
Sir Thomas turned to a map and said, “I would suggest you take the Rue du Fauberg St. Honoré in front of the embassy as far as you can as you head to the Arc de Triomphe. Our latest reports are that this latter route, along with the Bois de Boulogne for the last third of your journey, are still under the control of the Swiss guards and royal troops, respectively.”
“It is the middle third of the route which is chaotic. The revolutionaries are uneven as to their actions at the barricades. As a reuslt, I am giving two passes to you: one, signed by General LaFayette, will hopefully be respected by the revolutionaries; and a second one, an official diplomatic pass should get you past the royal checkpoints. Do you have any questions?”
“When do we leave?” John eagerly asked.
“I think this evening would be best. The night will give cover and lessen any sniper fire. Be ready at 8 o’clock and y
ou will still have some light left. Your contact on the palace grounds will be at the Grande Cascade–the wonderful series of waterfalls constructed at St. Cloud by Le Pautre in 1665. Your contact will be at the top of the falls wearing British red clothing. The King’s minister does not wish you to enter the palace as this would arouse suspicion. Officially, the king is being firm about not abdicating.”
At eight o’clock, Andrew, John and Edgar assembled in the vestibule of the embassy. Lady Staley had a worried look as Edgar hugged her and stepped back, “Don’t worry, Mother, everything will be fine; besides, I need to go to talk my cousins out of any minor difficulties.” Lowering his voice he said, “John’s french is atrocious and Andrew’s is not much better.”
Sir Thomas stepped near her and said, “He is at that age when young men go off to sea or join the army. He cannot be our little boy forever.”
“I know,” she bravely replied.
John said, “Andrew, why don’t you lead the way with Edgar between us and I will form the rear guard.”
The threesome moved into the summer sunshine of the early evening, which was pouring into the cobblestone street. They soon disappeared from sight of the embassy. The district was very quiet, without any sign of rebel activity. Andrew felt like a commissioned officer on an important mission as they headed in a northwesterly direction. He had always been thrilled at Sir Thomas’ stories about his involvement before and during Waterloo. He also appreciated for the first time that an officer must not only think about the mission, but the safety of his men. Andrew had great respect for his brother’s physical skills and intelligence; though most observers, ceded the advantage to himself concerning intellectual and academic affairs. It was for this reason he carried the two passes and communique in his pocket, and felt responsible for the success of their adventure.
Passing the Arc de Triomphe, they encountered their first barricade. Though it appeared to be a royalist stop point, Sir Thomas had warned them that some of the troops were increasingly defecting to the revolution; and, thus, the mere sighting of a uniform was not equivalent to monarchal control.
“Bon jour, monsieur,” the first sentry said.
Someone shouted behind the sentry, “Vive la chartier!”
“A bas de la roi!”
Andrew eyed the sentry in royal uniform and observed his uniform to be unkempt. The soldier had either been at his post far too long or had loosened his uniform to express support for the revolution. The cries from behind the soldier, “Long live the charter” and “Curses on the king” took Andrew a few moments to interpret.
The sentry again said, “You are English, no? State your reason for en passé.”
Andrew reached down into his pocket to pull out the note from General Lafayette as planned for this moment and handed the note to the guard.
The guard unfolded only the top third of the paper, then clicked his heels and stood completely erect. The paper was returned with only one arm as he then waved them through the barricade with the other hand.
As they left the barricade behind them, the trio heard: (French: “They are important diplomats from the British embassy”).
Farther down the road, John asked, “By the way, Andrew, which pass did you hand the sentry?”
Looking down at the document clasped in his right hand, Andrew became chagrined as he saw the British diplomat pass.
John said, “I thought so; you gave the wrong document; it is diverting to see my smarter brother make such a gaffe.”
“I admit the mistake; however, one which produced the desired result.”
“True.”
As they approached the Bois de Boulogne, Edgar asked, “May I lead the way? I know a route off the main trail which father showed me.”
The light was now diminishing to that wonderful term, gloam, which the Scottish use to describe that peculiar reflected light of summer just before shades of darkness begin.
While we can say they made their way throught he forest, the latter term is somewhat misleading for 1830 as only trees five to ten years old were present as the entire area was deforested when the Prussian army bivouacked there ten to fifteen years earlier during the occupation of Paris after Waterloo.
The threesome crossed the bridge over the Seine easily as royal troops treated them as well as at the first barricade in Paris.
At the end of the bridge, Edgar said, “Why did we not ask which way to the Grand Cascade?”
John replied, “We did not want to alert them to our secret mission. Sentries can talk. . . . Let me lead now.”
He started walking off to the left in what was now becoming darkness. If a crescent moon had not been giving a modicum of light, it would have been utterly dark.
After about twenty minutes, Edgar asked, “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”
“Yes, I think so,” replied his younger cousin.
John stopped, “I think we are lost.”
His brother said lightly, “Well, well, the adventurer and pathfinder is lost. . . it is most diverting, except I sense that Edgar may become frightened.”
After hearing this, Edgar pulled his two cousins near him and then sat down.
“Some couriers we are,” John mused, “who cannot find our way.”
Andrew said, “Now I understand that the adventures told by Sir Thomas were probably only his glorious ones and not the misadventures.”
His brother said, “We probably need to be quiet and get our bearings.”
As they did for a few minutes, Edgar asked, “Is that water splashing?”
“Yes,” John agreed.
“Then that direction is likely our meeting point, the Grande Cascade; now I know why Uncle Thomas had a good reason for picking it as its sound would help guide us in the dark,” Andrew said.
The monumental step-wise falls were soon found.
While they were waiting for their contact, the trio gazed out upon the garden between their position and the well-lit palace. At one point, a group of ladies passed within 50 feet of their position. After they passed by, John said, “Oh, oh. . . who was that angel that just passed by?”
“Not likely anyone you are eligible for. . . .” Andrew guessed.
Their contact appeared at the prescribed hour wearing a white wig and the red suit. The communique was given. Before departing, John, sensing the gentleman to be of some importance in the court, ventured to ask, “Earlier there was a beautiful woman who passed by there with an entourage. She was wearing a light blue ball gown and has raven black hair.”
“You must be referring to Mademoiselle. She is the keeper of the wardrobe for the Dauphine.” After a little more conversation, the Frenchman bid them au revoir and disappeared in the darkness.
The threesome retraced their steps down the hill to the Seine and through the Bois de Bolougne. They decided to return the identical route since they had gotten through the revolutionary barricade without incident the first time.
However, it was now midnight and instead of a lone sentry, a group of 8 - 10 men sat around a large bonfire passing bottles of wine and engaged in drunken singing. None of them appeared to have uniforms on, but rather smudged and typical working class clothes. As the trio approached, two of them stood up and said, “Halt, who goes there(write in FRENCH)?”
John, Andrew and Edgar stepped forward.
A fellow around the fire yelled, in what would be politely interpreted as, “Dirty English scum. We should’ve wiped them out at Waterloo.”
Andrew took a further step forward and asked for the leader.
A lean but surly looking fellow, who looked like he had not shaved in a week, came forth. Andrew handed him the pass from General Lafayette and watched him peruse it. He was not sure the Frenchman could read; in any case, the leader soon dropped the note and said, “We don’t care about any General Lafayette. He is an old wig anyway.” Looking up he said, “We will take you boys into custody and see what you have.”
John pulled his brother back and stepped forwar
d to challenge, “I bet I can beat the lot of you one-by-one with the sword.”
“What?” bellowed their leader. “In the last war we said one Frenchy was worth ten Englishmen.”
“Give me a sword.”
“It will be a pleasure.”
John turned to Andrew and Edgar and said, “Run! Save Edgar.”
As John turned back to the fire, a sword was handed him and the first round began. Andrew took Edgar’s hand and began slowly backing up until they were in blackness. They then ran in a wide semicircle toward the Arc de Triomphe with Edgar falling down several times. They could hear swordplay for more than a hundred yards before the sound faded. They continued to walk and run the last two miles of the Rue de Fauberg St. Honore towards the embassy. At intervals, Andrew carried the exhausted Edgar.
The outside gaslights of the embassy were burning brightly as the guard was obviously watching for them and opened the gate immediately. Andrew held Edgar’s hand as they stumbled into the courtyard. Edgar’s knees were torn and bloody, but they both stood up and were hugged by Sir Thomas, Lady Staley, and Sarah.
The joyous meeting was soon ended as Sir Thomas asked, “Where is John?”
“We ran into trouble on the other side of the Arc de Triomphe. We were going to be taken prisoner when John offered to duel the ten men one by one with a sword. That action allowed us to slip away. We must gather a party and return.”
Sir Thomas, “I haven’t anyone to spare.” He turned to the guard and said, “Get me my pistols and two for Mr. Darcy. We must leave immediately.”
As they exited the embassy gate, a familiar voice asked from out of the darkness, “Are you fellows going to find some action?”
Sir Thomas stopped and said, as John stepped out of the darkness, “You old cavalier, you gave us a start.”
“How did you get out of there?” Andrew asked proudly.
“I disarmed the first man. The second swordsman recognized me from the tournament and stopped after a minute and bowed. After telling the group who I was, they all bowed and allowed me to pass.”
