“But why is this happening at this time, when the situation is improving?”
“Robespierre has decided to empty the prisons before the year is over. It is laudable, of course, when you consider the number of conspirators, spies, émigrés, royalists and like scoundrels housed there. Yet, with less judges than before, we cannot keep pace with the number of defendants. Herman, who is now in charge of the prisons, wanted to send me one hundred and fifty per day. Fouquier even proposed to have scaffolding—scaffolding—installed in my courtroom to accommodate these numbers.”
He was now pacing the room. “I made it clear,” he continued, “that it was out of the question, regardless of what Dumas might have agreed to. I told Fouquier that I will not let him turn my courtroom into a circus, with the accused perched in midair like monkeys. Finally, he agreed to limit the number of defendants to no more than thirty per day, which is already impossible to manage.”
“Why does not Robespierre show more leniency after the victories?”
“We are close to reaching the goals of the Revolution, Gabrielle. Now that we are winning the war against the foreign tyrants, our last obstacle is the existence of the scoundrels who conspire from within against the safety of the Nation. That is why Robespierre wants all of the prisoners tried by the end of the year. The innocents will be acquitted and the rest guillotined. What I do not know is how the Tribunal is going to achieve this goal. The other day, I had the surprise to see a boy of fourteen, a ci-devant nobleman, with barely a moustache, among the accused. I added a question for the jurors, reminding them of his age and asking whether he had become an enemy of the people with discernment. What do you think? They answered in the affirmative! I could not believe my ears when I heard the guilty verdict. I had to break the law. I sentenced the boy to twenty years in prison. I should have sent him to the guillotine, since now it is the only penalty we may impose. I looked Fouquier’s deputy in the eye while I read the sentence. He kept quiet.”
Pierre-André shook his head in a worried manner. “And Robespierre has been acting in a rather odd manner lately. He barely shows his face at the National Convention anymore. That is where he is vulnerable. He can now count on the loyalty of the Municipality and the Revolutionary Tribunal. I am part of both and do not worry about either. My colleague Dumas behaves in an improper manner on the bench and his jokes are in the worst taste, but at least he is completely trustworthy. The other judges are insignificant. Fouquier, although he receives his orders from the Committee of General Safety, where Robespierre has many enemies, is too busy to take the helm of any movement. It is not in his nature anyway. Yet many scoundrels infest the ranks of the Convention. Some are as corrupt as the late Danton; some are cowards who keep quiet and bide their time. I told Robespierre to begin by sending Carrier, along with all the other Representatives in Mission who are guilty of atrocities, to stand trial before the Tribunal, but he would not listen to me. He wants to wait for the right moment to strike them.”
Pierre-André sighed. “Also, Robespierre has been sick. And he is in love with Eléonore, one of the Duplay girls. You saw her that night when we called on him. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but he needs to bed her. I told him, as a friend and physician, that nothing is more detrimental to a man’s health than continence. Semen retentum venenum est. He should marry her if he does not want to make her his concubine. I am sure she would be delighted to have him. I even offered to speak to the girl on his behalf if he were too shy to do it himself. He was horrified by the idea.” Pierre-André shrugged. “Other men always underestimate my powers of persuasion with the fair sex.”
No one except Eléonore Duplay, who is still alive and has never married, knows what happened between herself and Robespierre, but what is sure is that he decided to come out of his isolation. At the end of July 1794, on the 8th of Thermidor, he gave a speech before the National Convention in which he denounced unspecified “scoundrels.” Many Representatives felt targeted. It was almost midnight when Pierre-André, looking concerned, arrived at my lodgings. I was very surprised when he announced that he would not go to the Tribunal the next day but had to see Robespierre instead. He did not volunteer more information nor did I feel free to pry.
A suffocating heat hung over Paris the next day. Around three in the afternoon, I heard in addition to the rumbling of thunder, drums beating and the tocsin ringing. The sense of foreboding that enveloped me since the day before became unbearable. I took Aimée by the hand and almost ran with her to the Island of the Fraternity. I opened the door to Pierre-André’s lodgings. Pélagie looked at us with surprise. Barely taking the time to greet her, I opened a chest and took out a change of clothes and linen for Pierre-André. There, between two shirts, I found one of the embroidered garters he had taken from me. I had not time to wonder about what had happened to its twin, but tears came to my eyes as I looked at the blue embroidery and the monogram. I then lifted the carpet in the bedroom and emptied the cache of gold and assignats Pierre-André had shown me. I threw the money into a traveling bag, along with his clothes, my garter, razors, some toiletries and a pair of pistols. Pélagie was watching me with uncomprehending eyes.
“Follow me,” I said. “You are in danger.”
She shook her head. I held my hand to her. “Come with me. Citizen Coffinhal would want it.”
I was ready to leave when the face of Pierre-André’s mother caught my eye. I seized a pair of scissors and cut the painting out of its frame. I did the same with my own portrait by Madame Lebrun. I rolled both canvasses, which joined the rest of my loot in the bag. I was done in less than five minutes. I left in haste, dragging Aimée and Pélagie behind me. It was not yet four o’clock in the afternoon of the 9th of Thermidor when I returned to my lodgings.
There I waited for hours, racked by anguish. At last, at three in the morning, I heard a key turn in the lock. I was wide awake and jumped out of bed in an instant. I threw myself into Pierre-André’s arms. He smelled of sweat and of gunpowder. His coat was already wet on the shoulders. It had just begun to rain. He kept me embraced for a long time without speaking.
“I wanted to see you one last time, my poor love,” he said at last, “but I must leave. I have already compromised you enough by coming here. I will go before dawn. Everything is lost.”
“Not if you are alive. You must stay here. You will be safe. I went to your lodgings and took everything you will need.”
He collapsed on the couch. His shoulders were shaken by sobs. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist and cried in my lap. It was the only time I saw him weep. I held his head against my breast. Finally, exhausted, his eyes closed, he let go of me and rested against the back of the couch. I fetched him a glass of wine and sat by his side.
“What happened?” I asked. “Why did you say that all is lost?”
“Robespierre was prevented from speaking yesterday at the National Convention. Tallien, who was presiding, must have been part of a conspiracy with some other former Representatives in Mission, the Carriers, the Fouchés, the Collots. They all began shouting at the same time while Tallien was ringing his bell like a maniac. Couthon, who is usually energetic, just remained seated in his wheelchair and watched the disaster unfold without taking any action. Before you knew it, the Convention had decreed the arrest of Robespierre and his main followers. I would be surprised if I were not included in that measure. I had warned him that the Convention was the viper’s nest where the scoundrels had regrouped. Men like Carrier knew that their days were numbered.”
“Did you not meet with Robespierre yesterday morning?”
“I did. He was concerned about the Tribunal. I agreed to keep an eye all day on Fouquier, whom he particularly distrusts. I asked a common friend, a countryman of ours, to invite Fouquier and me to luncheon. I think I mentioned that man, Vernhes, who lives in the Island of the Fraternity. Around three, in the middle of the meal, we heard drums beating.”
“I heard them too from here.”
Pierre-André rubbed his hands on his face. “The first order of business was to free Hanriot. He was, after all, the Commander in Chief of the National Guard. I stormed the offices of the Committee of General Safety, where I found him tied like an idiot to a chair. I spoke to the gendarmes who were guarding the Convention. I shamed them for arresting patriots instead of the conspirators who wanted to lead the Nation to its doom. They too cheered and abandoned their posts to follow me. The scoundrels of the Convention were completely defenseless. I had the cannons pointed, loaded, ready to fire in their direction. What followed, Gabrielle, I will never forgive myself.”
He stared straight ahead. “We needed Robespierre. There are not two men like him. And I am only a judge, Hanriot was the General. I took only a dozen men with me, including Sanson, the executioner, and his brother, to go free Robespierre who was still held at the Courthouse. The rest of my troops, the cannons, the gendarmes, I handed over to Hanriot. I gave him instructions to open fire on the Convention if the scoundrels who had attacked Robespierre were not immediately delivered to us. He had done it last year with the Girondins, I thought he could do it again. I left. I found Robespierre at the Courthouse, freed him without encountering any serious resistance and brought him back to the Common House.”
He was now shaking. “There, what did you think I saw, but the troops I had left into the hands of Hanriot, the cannons, everything! I could not believe my eyes. The soldiers were idle, some were beginning to drink, others were leaving. Hanriot had been content to bring them back to the Common House without attacking the Convention. Now, even with Robespierre there, the occasion was missed; the battle was lost.”
“How could Hanriot fail to act?”
“He drank himself silly, no doubt out of fear. He could barely ride his horse. The Convention was able to muster a force to attack the Common House after two in the morning. We heard gunfire outside the door of the hall where we were gathered. It was clear that we were all going to be killed or arrested. Robespierre blew his brains out. His younger brother opened a window and jumped. The others, I believe, were arrested without offering any resistance. I, for one, was not going to give the scoundrels that satisfaction. As I was running down a hallway, whom do you think I saw? Hanriot! That coward, that drunkard, that imbecile who had destroyed all of our hopes! That piece of rubbish was not even worthy of the guillotine. He fled from me, but I was faster and caught him in a moment. When I was done with him, I sent him flying through a second-floor window.”
“Did you kill him?”
“I did not take the time to ascertain his condition. I can find my way around the Common House blindfolded and had no trouble escaping through a back door. Now you know everything. Robespierre is dead; the Nation is in the hands of scoundrels.”
I undressed Pierre-André like a child and joined him in bed. He went to sleep immediately, his head on my shoulder.
The next morning Hanriot was found in a gutter, one of his eyes torn from its socket, but alive. Robespierre, against all odds, had also survived. He had only shot himself in the jaw. He was taken, along with his younger brother, Dumas, Hanriot, Payan, Couthon and sixteen others, to the Revolutionary Tribunal. Sellier was acting as President now that both senior judges were unavailable: Dumas was among the accused and Pierre-André missing. Upon Fouquier’s request, all of the defendants were sentenced to death without trial. They were executed during the afternoon of the same day, the 10th of Thermidor. That night, I learned that Madame Duplay, whose sole crime had been to be Robespierre’s landlady and Eléonore’s mother, had been thrown into jail. A mob of women stormed the prison and hanged her from the bars of her cell window.
A vast conspiracy had been forming for several days to overthrow Robespierre. It comprised members of the Committees of Public Salvation and General Safety, former Representatives in mission like Carrier, steeped in blood and afraid of answering for their crimes, friends of the late Danton, and rich people who were tired of the price controls imposed under Robespierre’s leadership. All of that disparate group would be called the Thermidorians. They were the victors.
I did not feel the least doubt that Pierre-André, if he were discovered, would meet the same fate as his friends. He was the last of the Jacobin leaders still at large. I offered to call on his brother Joseph, since he had prudently kept to his judicial functions on the 9th and 10th of Thermidor. Pierre-André reluctantly accepted.
I visited Joseph Coffinhal at his home in the Marais district, Rue Beautreillis. Pierre-André had told me that his brother had married well. The fine house into which I was shown had been part of his wife’s dowry. I had never met Joseph before but would have recognized him without difficulty. He was well over six feet tall, a slightly shorter model of Pierre-André, as broad in the shoulders, though not as lean around the stomach.
“Jeanne-Françoise Dunoyer?” he asked coldly, his eyebrow raised. “How is it that you bear my mother’s maiden name?”
“Pierre-André chose it when he procured my residence certificate.”
“Who are you really?”
“Gabrielle de Montserrat.”
His eyes narrowed. “Now this is familiar. You are the youngest sister of the ci-devant Marquis de Castel. I remember that scandal. Almost ten years ago, was it not? Pierre-André almost went to the gallows because of you. I have never met anyone more adept than my younger brother at creating trouble for himself and his family. So he has laid his hands on you at last. How long have you been his mistress?”
“I have been living under his protection for almost two years.”
“Well, it seems that he is the one in need of protection now.”
“That was the purpose of my visit.”
Joseph shrugged. “What does he expect me to do? To help a fugitive, a man who is already under a death sentence?”
I shook my head. “He is your brother. He saved my life. These claims are higher than any set by the laws of men.”
“I find it imprudent to disregard the laws of men. I may be more attached to my life than you are to yours.”
“Can you not arrange for him to go abroad?”
He sniggered. “Pray name a country that would give him asylum. He has made himself rather conspicuous these past few years. Everyone knew him to be an acolyte of Robespierre long before the events of the 9th. He might have saved himself by keeping quiet that day. But no, instead he was riding all over Paris, rallying the enemies of the Convention, his sword drawn, his tricolour sash waving in the wind.”
“What about Auvergne? Your brother Jean-Baptiste would hide him.”
“And how would you send a man like my younger brother, who is so easily recognizable and whose description is posted throughout France, safely to Auvergne? Even I do not dare stir from this house for fear of being mistaken for him. No, the only thing I can suggest is that you continue hiding him until further notice.”
“Can you at least write Jean-Baptiste?”
“Let us assume that I do that. How would I let you know of his response? Where do you live?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“What do you fear? That I will warn the authorities of Pierre-André’s whereabouts? I will not betray him. Come back here in a week.”
That week w
as the strangest, the most intense, the most dreadful of my existence. It changed me forever. For the first time, Pierre-André and I could spend as much time as we liked together. I kept bringing him news. On the 11th of Thermidor, seventy members of the Council General of the Municipality were sentenced to death, also without trial, the largest batch ever to go to the guillotine. Another twelve followed the next day. All were Pierre-André’s “friends and brothers,” as the Jacobins called one another, his comrades in arms. Sometimes he was lost deep in his own sorrow and sometimes he clung to me as if I alone could shield him from death, his own and that of all the others. We were each other’s sole comfort. There was something approaching happiness in our despair.
I took Pélagie with me when I called again on Joseph Coffinhal. He glanced at my companion.
“Who is that? Why did you bring this woman here?”
“She is Pierre-André’s maid. I thought that you might hire her as a servant. She has nowhere to go now. You have nothing to fear on her account. She is entirely devoted to your brother. In any event, no one can understand her speech.”
“Thank you very much, but we have all the maids we need. Why on earth would I want such a freak in my house? You seem to forget that I have two young daughters.”
“She is very kind and hard working. I am sure that your children would grow fond of her in no time. My own little girl already likes her.”
He shrugged. “Keep her then.”
Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel Page 54
