Citizen Jean Vauquelas

In April, 1793, about eight months after his arrival in Paris, Coursegol went one evening to the Palais Égalité. The establishment, which had formerly been known as the Palais Royal, had at that epoch a splendor and an importance of which its present appearance gives but a faint conception. One should read in the journals of those days the description of the galleries ever filled with an eager, bustling throng attracted by the excitement and the unwholesome amusements always to be found there. Mercier, in sharp, almost indignant language, gives us a vivid picture of the famous resort. Gambling-dens, dance-halls, shops devoted to the sale of the most reckless and infamous productions, restaurants and wine-shops were to be seen on every side. The spirit of speculation and gambling raged with inconceivable violence. Vice sat enthroned there, and when evening came the immense establishment was densely crowded by a throng of people thirsting for pleasure, and circling round and round in the brilliantly-lighted galleries to the sound of the violins that mounted to the ears of the promenaders from the dance-halls in the basement below.

Coursegol frequently visited the Palais Égalité. At the instance of Bridoul he had speculated a little in assignats which were constantly fluctuating in value. It was the only negotiation in which Coursegol would consent to embark. He might have trafficked in the estates of the Emigres which the Republic was selling at a merely nominal price; but he had no desire to become the owner of what he considered stolen property. After a few evenings spent in the Palais Égalité, Coursegol became acquainted with most of the brokers who transacted business there. They were stout, well-fed, jovial men, whose self-satisfied and flourishing appearance seemed a stinging irony hurled in the face of the poor wretches who were perishing of hunger in the Faubourgs of Paris. They could be seen rushing about the garden and through the galleries, giving orders to their subordinates whose duty it was to find new clients, and to allure unsophisticated provincials, that they might rob them of their money to cast it into the gulf in which the fortunes of so many had been swallowed up.

These unprincipled persons resorted to the basest means to dupe those who trusted them. They called wine and reckless women to their aid, and thus disarmed the unsuspecting men who came to the money market with the hope of doubling their capital. In the Palais Égalité, conspiracies were formed not only against the Republic but against the fortunes, the place, and even the lives of its citizens. Still even the dread Committee of Public Safety were powerless to discover the formidable enemies that concealed themselves there. That Coursegol was not irretrievably lost the instant he crossed the threshold of this mysterious and dangerous cavern was due entirely to Bridoul, who had volunteered to act as his guide and protector. Bridoul possessed a very considerable amount of influence. He presented his comrade to some of the fortunate speculators, and recommended him to them to such purpose that several of them took Coursegol under their protection. Quick-witted, endowed with remarkable energy and tact, and inspired by an ardent desire to acquire wealth for the sake of Dolores, he rendered them important services on more than one occasion by lending his obscure and modest name to conceal operations in which a well-known personage could not have embarked without peril.

Coursegol was only a peasant; but he had served in the army a long time, and contact with others had sharpened his wits, while the excellent judgment of his old master, the Marquis de Chamondrin, had not failed to exert a most beneficial effect upon his intellectual development. Hence, though it was not without hesitation that he entered upon a career so entirely new to him, he at least brought with him not only honesty, prudence and tact, but a coolness which could not but contribute notably to his success in those perturbed times.

On the evening to which we have alluded he went to the Palais Égalité as usual. It was after nightfall, and the restaurants were filled to overflowing with crowds of excited people glad to forget in the distractions of play, of speculation and of good cheer the woes of the country and their own degradation. Some were eagerly buying tickets that would entitle them to seats in the Theatre de la République, only a hundred paces distant; others were buying the daily papers. Some were promenading with that careless gayety that never deserts the French even in their darkest days, while they insolently eyed the shameless women, who, with bold gaze and naked shoulders, stood there endeavoring to attract the attention of the passers-by. Others rushed to the gambling saloons, already dreaming of the stroke of good fortune that would enlarge the rolls of assignats with which their pockets were filled.

Some promenaders approached each other with mysterious proposals, and afterwards repaired to the garden where they could converse undisturbed. It was there that many confidential interviews were held, it was there that the most diverse hopes had birth; it was there that the Royalists, the friends and the relatives of the Emigres or of suspected persons incarcerated in prison plotted for the return of the Bourbons or for the deliverance of the poor wretches whose lives hung upon a thread. There, too, the spies in the employ of the Committee of Public Safety, or of the Commune, flitted about, trying to discover any secret that might be hostile to the Republic. Sometimes gloomy visaged men or women with pale and anxious looks were seen hurrying through the crowd; some man who had been vainly seeking bread for his children; some woman whose husband was in the Luxembourg or in the Abbaye prisons, awaiting the dread fiat of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

These livid and despairing faces were the only blemishes upon the exuberant gayety that prevailed; but no one saw them and the poor wretches disappeared without exciting either anger or pity.

The eyes of Coursegol were accustomed to this spectacle, so he walked coolly through the galleries heedless of the tumult around him and paused only when he met a group of acquaintances who were discussing the news of the day. Suddenly some one tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.

“Is that you, Citizen Vauquelas?”

“I wish to speak to you, Coursegol.”

At the same time the man who had just interrupted Coursegol’s promenade took him by the arm and led him toward the garden. He was clad in black and enveloped in a large cloak that would have made him look like a priest had it not been for the high hat, ornamented with the national cockade, which proved him a patriot of the middle class. His thin, emaciated face, deeply furrowed with wrinkles indicated that he had long since passed his sixtieth birthday; but there was nothing else in his appearance that betokened old age. His form was so erect, his eye so clear, his step so firm, that one, not seeing his face, would have thought him still in the prime of life.

On entering the garden, Vauquelas glanced around, but, seeing no place which he deemed sufficiently retired, he seemed to change his plan.

“I fear that these trees have ears,” said he, “and what I wish to say to you must not be overheard.”

And without saying more, he led the way to the Cafe Corazza. They entered it. The saloon was filled with people, eating and drinking while they read the papers or indulged in heated political discussions. One man had mounted a table and was delivering a long discourse. He was endeavoring to convince his listeners that France was being betrayed by the secret agents sent to Paris by the Emigres. His was no new theme; buy the orator displayed so much energy that his audience was polite enough to seem pleased with his efforts. Vauquelas, who appeared to be perfectly at home, crossed the room to whisper a word in the ear of the man who was standing at the cashier’s desk. This man, who proved to be the proprietor of the establishment, at once conducted Vauquelas to a private room. Coursegol followed, and, the proprietor having taken his departure, the two men found themselves alone.

“I have been contemplating the proposition I am about to make you for several months,” Vauquelas then began. “The very first time I saw you, I made up my mind that you were the man to aid me in the projects I had long since formed, but which had not been carried into execution for want of an assistant in whom I could implicitly confide. But before I trusted you with my plans, I wished to know you; so I have studied you closely while you were unconscious of my scrutiny. I have admired the prudence you have displayed in all your business transactions. You suit me; and if you see fit to accede to the proposition I am about to offer for your consideration, our fortunes are made.”

“I am listening, Citizen Vauquelas,” replied Coursegol, “but I may as well tell you that it will be useless to confide your plans to me if they are not perfectly honest.”

“You shall judge,” rejoined Vauquelas, not appearing in the least wounded by Coursegol’s remark. “Last month the Republic passed a decree against the Emigres, ordering the confiscation of their property for the benefit of the nation. This measure has been carried into execution, and the government is now the possessor of a large amount of such property. These lands will be sold at public auction, and will fall into all sorts of hands. They will be divided and parceled out, and the rightful owners when they return to France will have no power to take possession of the property that once belonged to them. Very well now I have wondered if the purchase of a portion of this property would not be both profitable and a praiseworthy action.”

“And why?” inquired Coursegol, who had been listening attentively.

“The reason is plain,” replied Vauquelas. “Will it not be for the interest of the exiled owners that their estates should be bought on the most favorable possible terms, and properly cared for. The brigands who are now in power will fall some day; and then the Emigres will return. Will they not be glad to find their property in good and careful hands, and to be able to regain possession of it by paying the trifling sum which the government received for it?”

Coursegol did not reply at once, he was reflecting.

“The transactions would be honest enough,” he said at last; “but if you purchase the lands of the government to-day and sell them later to their owners at the same price you paid for them, where would your profit come in?”

“I would pay for them in assignats; their owners would pay me in gold.”

Vauquelas uttered these last words with an air of triumph; then, as if fearing Coursegol’s objections, he made haste to develop his scheme.

“The assignats have already undergone a very considerable depreciation. With fifty thousand francs in gold one can, to-day, purchase at least two hundred thousand francs in assignats; and the depreciation will become much greater. There is a piece of property in the Faubourg Saint-Germain which will be ostensibly sold for two millions by the Republic, but which will really cost the purchaser only two hundred thousand francs; and, by and by, the owner will have no difficulty in disposing of it again for the ostensible price he paid for it, and it will be only natural and right that he should demand gold in payment.”

“And in what way could I be of service to you?” Coursegol timidly inquired.

“By lending me your name. We will buy sometimes in your name, sometimes in mine, so we shall not arouse suspicion.”

“But where shall we find the money?”

Vauquelas arose and, without the slightest hesitation, replied:

“Since I have begun to give you my confidence, I will hide nothing. Come with me.”

Vauquelas, as we have said before, had arrived at the trying age of three-score and ten, which, for the majority of men, is the age of decrepitude, that sinister forerunner of death; but time had neither bowed his head nor enfeebled his intellect. The clearness of his mind and the vigor of his limbs indicated that he was likely to be one of those centenarians who carry their years so lightly that they make us think with regret of that golden age in which the gods could confer immortality upon man. His eye still flashed with all the ardor of youth; and in his breast glowed a fire which age was powerless to quench. Vauquelas had formerly been a magistrate in Arras. A widower, without a child for whose fate he was compelled to tremble, he had seen the approach of the Revolution and the Reign of Terror without the slightest dismay; and the tenth of August found him in Paris, drawn there by the desire to increase his by no means contemptible fortune, and to win the favor of those who were then in power.

He had taken up his abode in a modest mansion at the extremity of the Faubourg du Roule. The house stood in the centre of a garden, which was protected from the gaze of the curious by high walls that surrounded it on every side. Served by an old woman whom he had brought from Arras, he apparently lived the life of a recluse who desires to remain a stranger to the changes and emotions of the moment, and to end his days in peace and quietness. He received no visitors; and the people in the neighborhood thought him a poor man who had lost his family and squandered his money in unfortunate speculations. He never left the house until evening and always returned very late at night. A sans-culotte, who lived near by and whose suspicions had been aroused, followed him one evening. He fancied him a conspirator, he saw him enter the Palais Égalité, speak to several persons who seemed to listen to him with extreme deference, and afterwards repair to the house of one of the most influential members of the Committee of Public Safety, where he remained until two o’clock in the morning, and then returned home. The self-constituted spy concluded that he had to deal with one of the Committee’s secret agents; and he was inspired with such wholesome awe that he decided to push his investigations no further.

In reality, Vauquelas was nothing more nor less than a man tormented by an unappeasable thirst for wealth. He had only one passion: a passion for gold. It was this that urged him in spite of a fortune that would have satisfied his modest wants ten times over into all kinds of financial ventures. It was this that had suggested to him the idea of ingratiating himself with the men who were in power, and thus gain their friendship, their influences and protection. In all the acts of the government, in the great events that succeeded one another day after day, he saw only an opportunity for speculation. Whether peace or war prevailed; whether the people obeyed the Commune or Convention; whether they worshipped the Supreme Being or the Goddess of Reason; whether the men condemned to death were innocent or guilty mattered little to him. These things interested him only by the effect they might produce on the money-market. So he had allied himself in turn with the Girondists and with the Jacobins. He had loaned money to Mirabeau; he had speculated with Barras and with Tallien, always placing himself at the service of those who held the power or seemed likely to hold it in the future.

Such was the man whose confidence Coursegol had won by his honesty and sagacity. He appeared in the pathway of Vauquelas just as the latter had arrived at the conclusion that further speculation in assignats would be extremely hazardous, and just as he was looking about him for some reliable man who would join him in enterprises of a different and much safer nature. In those perilous times it was hard to find a person in whom one could implicitly confide. Denunciation, that fatal weapon that lay within the reach of every hand, was frequently made the instrument of personal vengeance. No one was beyond its reach; and Vauquelas was not disposed to reveal his plans to a man who would be likely to betray them or him.

It was about eight o’clock when the two men left the Cafe and the Palais Égalité, and entered one of the cabriolets that stood before the theatre, a few steps below.

In about twenty minutes, the carriage stopped not far from the Folies-Bergeres. When the driver had been paid and dismissed, Vauquelas and Coursegol traversed the unoccupied ground that lay between the Rue du Roule and the Champs-Elysees. The place was dark and deserted. A few houses, surrounded by gardens, skirted the street. Superb residences have since been erected there and Boulevards have been opened; but at the time of which we write this Faubourg resembled a street in a quiet country village. It was here that Vauquelas lived. As the two men were approaching the house by a path shaded with lindens, pruned into the same uniformity as those at Versailles, an enormous dog sprang out upon them, barking ferociously. With a word, Vauquelas quieted him; then, turning to Coursegol, he said, smiling:

“This is the guardian of my dwelling. If need be, he can hold a band of robbers at bay.”

They reached the house and were admitted by the old servant, who conducted them to the drawing-room.

“Give me a lantern and then go to bed, my good woman,” said Vauquelas.

She disappeared, but soon returned, bearing in one hand a double candlestick which she placed upon a table, and in the other the lantern for which her master had called.

“Follow me,” said Coursegol’s host.

Coursegol obeyed. They left the drawing-room, passed through several small and shabbily furnished apartments, and at last entered a small passage. Vauquelas opened a door and Coursegol saw a narrow stairway winding down into the cellar.

“This is my wine-cellar and it is well stocked,” said Vauquelas, with a smile.

He spoke only the simple truth. Countless casks ranged along the wall and long shelves filled with dusty bottles attracted Coursegol’s attention; but he could scarcely understand why Vauquelas had brought him there if he had nothing else to show him. Suddenly the latter exclaimed:

“You asked me just now if I had money enough for the enterprise I proposed to you. You shall judge for yourself, for I am going to reveal my secret.”

As he spoke he seized a spade that stood near by, removed a few shovels full of earth and disclosed a large white stone slab, in the centre of which was an iron ring which enabled him to lift it.

“Look!” said he.

Coursegol bent over the opening and looked in. He saw a large iron box buried in the earth and filled with sacks of gold. The bright metal gleamed through the meshes of the coarse bags, dazzling the eye of the beholder with its golden glory. Vauquelas seemed to enjoy Coursegol’s surprise; but it was in vain that he tried to discover the slightest vestige of envy or avarice in the face of his visitor. Coursegol was astonished, and perhaps dazzled by the sight of so much wealth, but no evil thought entered his mind. Vauquelas breathed more freely. He had just subjected the man upon whom he had bestowed his confidence to a decisive test, and he had emerged from it victorious.

“There are two millions here,” he remarked.

“Two millions! Do they belong to you?”

“They belong to me.”

“And you are not satisfied! You wish to acquire more!”

“Oh! it is a question of health to me. If I stopped work I should soon die; and I wish to live life is good!”

There was a moment’s silence, and Vauquelas looked tenderly at his treasure.

“Moreover, as I have told you, we shall not only make money, but perform a most commendable action,” he remarked after a little. “We will purchase some of those fine houses on the Faubourg Saint-Germain, which have been confiscated by the government in their masters’ absence. We will take good care of them. In some hands, they would soon fall to ruin; but in ours they will increase in value, and when their former owners return, they will find their homes in the same condition as when they left them. They will buy them from us, and they will be ever grateful to us. Come, my boy, make up your mind. Will you become my partner in this enterprise?”

“I accept your offer,” replied Coursegol. He saw his fortune assured in a few years, and Dolores forever out of the reach of want.

“Do you know how to write?” Vauquelas inquired.

“Not very well.”

“That is bad. We must keep an account of our business operations; it will not do to take any one else into our confidence, and I cannot do the work myself. My eyesight is not very good.”

“I will do my best,” replied Coursegol, mentally cursing his ignorance.

Suddenly another plan flashed through his brain.

“Ah! now I have it,” he exclaimed, eagerly. “This work that you cannot do and that I should do so badly can be entrusted to my daughter.”

“Your daughter! You have a daughter! You have never told me that you were a married man.”

Coursegol was silent for a moment; he seemed to hesitate.

“I will return confidence for confidence,” he said finally.

Then he related the history of Dolores, and his own. When it was ended, Vauquelas rubbed his hands joyfully.

“She will not betray us,” said he. “Ah well! Everything is for the best.”

He covered the box in which his gold was concealed with earth, and then the two men returned to the drawing-room. They remained in earnest conversation for some time, Vauquelas disclosing his plans for the future, the other listening and proffering occasional but judicious suggestions. It was after midnight when they separated.

Coursegol walked home. Twice he was stopped by the patrols, but, thanks to the credentials he carried with him, he was allowed to pursue his way unmolested. A week later, Dolores and Coursegol left Bridoul’s house to take up their abode in that of Vauquelas. The parting was a sad one. Cornelia Bridoul loved Dolores as fondly as the latter loved her; still they would have frequent opportunities to see each other, and this thought greatly alleviated their sorrow.