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The Paris Sketch Book

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The occupations of this worthy were unremitting. Saint Just, who
had come down from Paris to preside over our town, executed the
laws and the aristocrats with terrible punctuality; and Schneider
used to make country excursions in search of offenders with this
fellow, as a provost-marshal, at his back. In the meantime, having
entered my sixteenth year, and being a proper lad of my age, I had
joined a regiment of cavalry, and was scampering now after the
Austrians who menaced us, and now threatening the Emigrés, who were
banded at Coblentz. My love for my dear cousin increased as my
whiskers grew; and when I was scarcely seventeen, I thought myself
man enough to marry her, and to cut the throat of any one who
should venture to say me nay.

I need not tell you that during my absence at Strasburg, great
changes had occurred in our little village, and somewhat of the
revolutionary rage had penetrated even to that quiet and distant
place. The hideous "Fête of the Supreme Being" had been celebrated
at Paris; the practice of our ancient religion was forbidden; its
professors were most of them in concealment, or in exile, or had
expiated on the scaffold their crime of Christianity. In our poor
village my uncle's church was closed, and he, himself, an inmate in
my brother's house, only owing his safety to his great popularity
among his former flock, and the influence of Edward Ancel.

The latter had taken in the Revolution a somewhat prominent part;
that is, he had engaged in many contracts for the army, attended
the clubs regularly, corresponded with the authorities of his
department, and was loud in his denunciations of the aristocrats in
the neighborhood. But owing, perhaps, to the German origin of the
peasantry, and their quiet and rustic lives, the revolutionary fury
which prevailed in the cities had hardly reached the country
people. The occasional visit of a commissary from Paris or
Strasburg served to keep the flame alive, and to remind the rural
swains of the existence of a Republic in France.

Now and then, when I could gain a week's leave of absence, I
returned to the village, and was received with tolerable politeness
by my uncle, and with a warmer feeling by his daughter.

I won't describe to you the progress of our love, or the wrath of
my uncle Edward, when he discovered that it still continued. He
swore and he stormed; he locked Mary into her chamber, and vowed
that he would withdraw the allowance he made me, if ever I ventured
near her. His daughter, he said, should never marry a hopeless,
penniless subaltern; and Mary declared she would not marry without
his consent. What had I to do?--to despair and to leave her. As
for my poor uncle Jacob, he had no counsel to give me, and, indeed,
no spirit left: his little church was turned into a stable, his
surplice torn off his shoulders, and he was only too lucky in
keeping HIS HEAD on them. A bright thought struck him: suppose you
were to ask the advice of my old friend Schneider regarding this
marriage? he has ever been your friend, and may help you now as
before.

(Here the Captain paused a little.) You may fancy (continued he)
that it was droll advice of a reverend gentleman like uncle Jacob
to counsel me in this manner, and to bid me make friends with such
a murderous cut-throat as Schneider; but we thought nothing of it
in those days; guillotining was as common as dancing, and a man was
only thought the better patriot the more severe he might be. I
departed forthwith to Strasburg, and requested the vote and
interest of the Citizen President of the Committee of Public
Safety.

He heard me with a great deal of attention. I described to him
most minutely the circumstance, expatiated upon the charms of my
dear Mary, and painted her to him from head to foot. Her golden
hair and her bright blushing cheeks, her slim waist and her
tripping tiny feet; and furthermore, I added that she possessed a
fortune which ought, by rights, to be mine, but for the miserly old
father. "Curse him for an aristocrat!" concluded I, in my wrath.

As I had been discoursing about Mary's charms Schneider listened
with much complacency and attention: when I spoke about her
fortune, his interest redoubled; and when I called her father an
aristocrat, the worthy ex-Jesuit gave a grin of satisfaction, which
was really quite terrible. O fool that I was to trust him so far!


The very same evening an officer waited upon me with the following
note from Saint Just:--


"STRASBURG, Fifth year of the Republic, one and indivisible, 11
Ventose.

"The citizen Pierre Ancel is to leave Strasburg within two hours,
and to carry the enclosed despatches to the President of the
Committee of Public Safety at Paris. The necessary leave of
absence from his military duties has been provided. Instant
punishment will follow the slightest delay on the road.

Salut et Fraternité."


There was no choice but obedience, and off I sped on my weary way
to the capital.

As I was riding out of the Paris gate I met an equipage which I
knew to be that of Schneider. The ruffian smiled at me as I
passed, and wished me a bon voyage. Behind his chariot came a
curious machine, or cart; a great basket, three stout poles, and
several planks, all painted red, were lying in this vehicle, on the
top of which was seated my friend with the big cockade. It was the
PORTABLE GUILLOTINE which Schneider always carried with him on his
travels. The bourreau was reading "The Sorrows of Werter," and
looked as sentimental as usual.

I will not speak of my voyage in order to relate to you
Schneider's. My story had awakened the wretch's curiosity and
avarice, and he was determined that such a prize as I had shown my
cousin to be should fall into no hands but his own. No sooner, in
fact, had I quitted his room than he procured the order for my
absence, and was on the way to Steinbach as I met him.

The journey is not a very long one; and on the next day my uncle
Jacob was surprised by receiving a message that the citizen
Schneider was in the village, and was coming to greet his old
friend. Old Jacob was in an ecstasy, for he longed to see his
college acquaintance, and he hoped also that Schneider had come
into that part of the country upon the marriage-business of your
humble servant. Of course Mary was summoned to give her best
dinner, and wear her best frock; and her father made ready to
receive the new State dignitary.

Schneider's carriage speedily rolled into the court-yard, and
Schneider's CART followed, as a matter of course. The ex-priest
only entered the house; his companion remaining with the horses to
dine in private. Here was a most touching meeting between him and
Jacob. They talked over their old college pranks and successes;
they capped Greek verses, and quoted ancient epigrams upon their
tutors, who had been dead since the Seven Years' War. Mary
declared it was quite touching to listen to the merry friendly talk
of these two old gentlemen.

After the conversation had continued for a time in this strain,
Schneider drew up all of a sudden, and said quietly, that he had
come on particular and unpleasant business--hinting about
troublesome times, spies, evil reports, and so forth. Then he
called uncle Edward aside, and had with him a long and earnest
conversation: so Jacob went out and talked with Schneider's FRIEND;
they speedily became very intimate, for the ruffian detailed all
the circumstances of his interview with me. When he returned into
the house, some time after this pleasing colloquy, he found the
tone of the society strangely altered. Edward Ancel, pale as a
sheet, trembling, and crying for mercy; poor Mary weeping; and
Schneider pacing energetically about the apartment, raging about
the rights of man, the punishment of traitors, and the one and
indivisible republic.

"Jacob," he said, as my uncle entered the room, "I was willing, for
the sake of our old friendship, to forget the crimes of your
brother. He is a known and dangerous aristocrat; he holds
communications with the enemy on the frontier; he is a possessor of
great and ill-gotten wealth, of which he has plundered the
Republic. Do you know," said he, turning to Edward Ancel, "where
the least of these crimes, or the mere suspicion of them, would
lead you?"

Poor Edward sat trembling in his chair, and answered not a word.
He knew full well how quickly, in this dreadful time, punishment
followed suspicion; and, though guiltless of all treason with the
enemy, perhaps he was aware that, in certain contracts with the
Government, he had taken to himself a more than patriotic share of
profit.

"Do you know," resumed Schneider, in a voice of thunder, "for what
purpose I came hither, and by whom I am accompanied? I am the
administrator of the justice of the Republic. The life of yourself
and your family is in my hands: yonder man, who follows me, is the
executor of the law; he has rid the nation of hundreds of wretches
like yourself. A single word from me, and your doom is sealed
without hope, and your last hour is come. Ho! Gregoire!" shouted
he; "is all ready?"

Gregoire replied from the court, "I can put up the machine in half
an hour. Shall I go down to the village and call the troops and
the law people?"

"Do you hear him?" said Schneider. "The guillotine is in the
court-yard; your name is on my list, and I have witnesses to prove
your crime. Have you a word in your defence?"

Not a word came; the old gentleman was dumb; but his daughter, who
did not give way to his terror, spoke for him.

"You cannot, sir," said she, "although you say it, FEEL that my
father is guilty; you would not have entered our house thus alone
if you had thought it. You threaten him in this manner because you
have something to ask and to gain from us: what is it, citizen?--
tell us how much you value our lives, and what sum we are to pay
for our ransom?"

"Sum!" said uncle Jacob; "he does not want money of us: my old
friend, my college chum, does not come hither to drive bargains
with anybody belonging to Jacob Ancel?"

"Oh, no, sir, no, you can't want money of us," shrieked Edward; "we
are the poorest people of the village: ruined, Monsieur Schneider,
ruined in the cause of the Republic."

"Silence, father," said my brave Mary; "this man wants a PRICE: he
comes, with his worthy friend yonder, to frighten us, not to kill
us. If we die, he cannot touch a sou of our money; it is
confiscated to the State. Tell us, sir, what is the price of our
safety?"

Schneider smiled, and bowed with perfect politeness.

"Mademoiselle Marie," he said, "is perfectly correct in her
surmise. I do not want the life of this poor drivelling old man:
my intentions are much more peaceable, be assured. It rests
entirely with this accomplished young lady (whose spirit I like,
and whose ready wit I admire), whether the business between us
shall be a matter of love or death. I humbly offer myself, citizen
Ancel, as a candidate for the hand of your charming daughter. Her
goodness, her beauty, and the large fortune which I know you intend
to give her, would render her a desirable match for the proudest
man in the republic, and, I am sure, would make me the happiest."

"This must be a jest, Monsieur Schneider," said Mary, trembling,
and turning deadly pale: "you cannot mean this; you do not know me:
you never heard of me until to-day."

"Pardon me, belle dame," replied he; "your cousin Pierre has often
talked to me of your virtues; indeed, it was by his special
suggestion that I made the visit."

"It is false!--it is a base and cowardly lie!" exclaimed she (for
the young lady's courage was up),--"Pierre never could have
forgotten himself and me so as to offer me to one like you. You
come here with a lie on your lips--a lie against my father, to
swear his life away, against my dear cousin's honor and love. It
is useless now to deny it: father, I love Pierre Ancel; I will
marry no other but him--no, though our last penny were paid to this
man as the price of our freedom."

Schneider's only reply to this was a call to his friend Gregoire.

"Send down to the village for the maire and some gendarmes; and
tell your people to make ready."

"Shall I put THE MACHINE up?" shouted he of the sentimental turn.

"You hear him," said Schneider; "Marie Ancel, you may decide the
fate of your father. I shall return in a few hours," concluded he,
"and will then beg to know your decision."

The advocate of the rights of man then left the apartment, and left
the family, as you may imagine, in no very pleasant mood.

Old uncle Jacob, during the few minutes which had elapsed in the
enactment of this strange scene, sat staring wildly at Schneider,
and holding Mary on his knees: the poor little thing had fled to
him for protection, and not to her father, who was kneeling almost
senseless at the window, gazing at the executioner and his hideous
preparations. The instinct of the poor girl had not failed her;
she knew that Jacob was her only protector, if not of her life--
heaven bless him!--of her honor. "Indeed," the old man said, in a
stout voice, "this must never be, my dearest child--you must not
marry this man. If it be the will of Providence that we fall, we
shall have at least the thought to console us that we die innocent.
Any man in France at a time like this, would be a coward and
traitor if he feared to meet the fate of the thousand brave and
good who have preceded us."

"Who speaks of dying?" said Edward. "You, Brother Jacob?--you
would not lay that poor girl's head on the scaffold, or mine, your
dear brother's. You will not let us die, Mary; you will not, for a
small sacrifice, bring your poor old father into danger?"

Mary made no answer. "Perhaps," she said, "there is time for
escape: he is to be here but in two hours; in two hours we may be
safe, in concealment, or on the frontier." And she rushed to the
door of the chamber, as if she would have instantly made the
attempt: two gendarmes were at the door. "We have orders,
Mademoiselle," they said, "to allow no one to leave this apartment
until the return of the citizen Schneider."

Alas! all hope of escape was impossible. Mary became quite silent
for a while; she would not speak to uncle Jacob; and, in reply to
her father's eager questions, she only replied, coldly, that she
would answer Schneider when he arrived.

The two dreadful hours passed away only too quickly; and, punctual
to his appointment, the ex-monk appeared. Directly he entered,
Mary advanced to him, and said, calmly,--

"Sir, I could not deceive you if I said that I freely accepted the
offer which you have made me. I will be your wife; but I tell you
that I love another; and that it is only to save the lives of those
two old men that I yield my person up to you."

Schneider bowed, and said,--

"It is bravely spoken. I like your candor--your beauty. As for
the love, excuse me for saying that is a matter of total
indifference. I have no doubt, however, that it will come as soon
as your feelings in favor of the young gentleman, your cousin, have
lost their present fervor. That engaging young man has, at
present, another mistress--Glory. He occupies, I believe, the
distinguished post of corporal in a regiment which is about to
march to--Perpignan, I believe."

It was, in fact, Monsieur Schneider’s polite intention to banish
me as far as possible from the place of my birth; and he had,
accordingly, selected the Spanish frontier as the spot where I was
to display my future military talents.

Mary gave no answer to this sneer: she seemed perfectly resigned
and calm: she only said,--

"I must make, however, some conditions regarding our proposed
marriage, which a gentleman of Monsieur Schneider’s gallantry
cannot refuse."

"Pray command me," replied the husband elect. "Fair lady, you know
I am your slave."

"You occupy a distinguished political rank, citizen representative,"
said she; "and we in our village are likewise known and beloved. I
should be ashamed, I confess, to wed you here; for our people would
wonder at the sudden marriage, and imply that it was only by
compulsion that I gave you my hand. Let us, then, perform this
ceremony at Strasburg, before the public authorities of the city,
with the state and solemnity which befits the marriage of one of the
chief men of the Republic."

"Be it so, madam," he answered, and gallantly proceeded to embrace
his bride.

Mary did not shrink from this ruffian’s kiss; nor did she reply
when poor old Jacob, who sat sobbing in a corner, burst out, and
said,--

"O Mary, Mary, I did not think this of thee!"

"Silence, brother!" hastily said Edward; "my good son-in-law will
pardon your ill-humor."

I believe uncle Edward in his heart was pleased at the notion of
the marriage; he only cared for money and rank, and was little
scrupulous as to the means of obtaining them.

The matter then was finally arranged; and presently, after
Schneider had transacted the affairs which brought him into that
part of the country, the happy bridal party set forward for
Strasburg. Uncles Jacob and Edward occupied the back seat of the
old family carriage, and the young bride and bridegroom (he was
nearly Jacob’s age) were seated majestically in front. Mary has
often since talked to me of this dreadful journey. She said she
wondered at the scrupulous politeness of Schneider during the
route; nay, that at another period she could have listened to and
admired the singular talent of this man, his great learning, his
fancy, and wit; but her mind was bent upon other things, and the
poor girl firmly thought that her last day was come.

In the meantime, by a blessed chance, I had not ridden three
leagues from Strasburg, when the officer of a passing troop of a
cavalry regiment, looking at the beast on which I was mounted, was
pleased to take a fancy to it, and ordered me, in an authoritative
tone, to descend, and to give up my steed for the benefit of the
Republic. I represented to him, in vain, that I was a soldier,
like himself, and the bearer of despatches to Paris. "Fool!" he
said; "do you think they would send despatches by a man who can
ride at best but ten leagues a day?" And the honest soldier was so
wroth at my supposed duplicity, that he not only confiscated my
horse, but my saddle, and the little portmanteau which contained
the chief part of my worldly goods and treasure. I had nothing
for it but to dismount, and take my way on foot back again to
Strasburg. I arrived there in the evening, determining the next
morning to make my case known to the citizen St. Just; and though I
made my entry without a sou, I don’t know what secret exultation I
felt at again being able to return.

The ante-chamber of such a great man as St. Just was, in those
days, too crowded for an unprotected boy to obtain an early
audience; two days passed before I could obtain a sight of the
friend of Robespierre. On the third day, as I was still waiting
for the interview, I heard a great bustle in the courtyard of the
house, and looked out with many others at the spectacle.

A number of men and women, singing epithalamiums, and dressed in
some absurd imitation of Roman costume, a troop of soldiers and
gendarmerie, and an immense crowd of the badauds of Strasburg, were
surrounding a carriage which then entered the court of the
mayoralty. In this carriage, great God! I saw my dear Mary, and
Schneider by her side. The truth instantly came upon me: the
reason for Schneider’s keen inquiries and my abrupt dismissal; but
I could not believe that Mary was false to me. I had only to look
in her face, white and rigid as marble, to see that this proposed
marriage was not with her consent.

I fell back in the crowd as the procession entered the great room
in which I was, and hid my face in my hands: I could not look upon
her as the wife of another,--upon her so long loved and truly--the
saint of my childhood--the pride and hope of my youth--torn from me
for ever, and delivered over to the unholy arms of the murderer who
stood before me.

The door of St. Just’s private apartment opened, and he took his
seat at the table of mayoralty just as Schneider and his cortège
arrived before it.

Schneider then said that he came in before the authorities of the
Republic to espouse the citoyenne Marie Ancel.

"Is she a minor?" asked St. Just.

"She is a minor, but her father is here to give her away."

"I am here," said uncle Edward, coming eagerly forward and bowing.
"Edward Ancel, so please you, citizen representative. The worthy
citizen Schneider has done me the honor of marrying into my
family."

"But my father has not told you the terms of the marriage," said
Mary, interrupting him, in a loud, clear voice.

Here Schneider seized her hand, and endeavored to prevent her from
speaking. Her father turned pale, and cried, "Stop, Mary, stop!
For heaven’s sake, remember your poor old father’s danger!"

"Sir, may I speak?"

"Let the young woman speak," said St. Just, "if she have a desire
to talk." He did not suspect what would be the purport of her
story.

"Sir," she said, "two days since the citizen Schneider entered for
the first time our house; and you will fancy that it must be a love
of very sudden growth which has brought either him or me before you
to-day. He had heard from a person who is now unhappily not
present, of my name and of the wealth which my family was said to
possess; and hence arose this mad design concerning me. He came
into our village with supreme power, an executioner at his heels,
and the soldiery and authorities of the district entirely under his
orders. He threatened my father with death if he refused to give
up his daughter; and I, who knew that there was no chance of
escape, except here before you, consented to become his wife. My
father I know to be innocent, for all his transactions with the
State have passed through my hands. Citizen representative, I
demand to be freed from this marriage; and I charge Schneider as a
traitor to the Republic, as a man who would have murdered an
innocent citizen for the sake of private gain."

During the delivery of this little speech, uncle Jacob had been
sobbing and panting like a broken-winded horse; and when Mary had
done, he rushed up to her and kissed her, and held her tight in his
arms. "Bless thee, my child!" he cried, "for having had the
courage to speak the truth, and shame thy old father and me, who
dared not say a word."

"The girl amazes me," said Schneider, with a look of astonishment.
"I never saw her, it is true, till yesterday; but I used no force:
her father gave her to me with his free consent, and she yielded as
gladly. Speak, Edward Ancel, was it not so?"

"It was, indeed, by my free consent," said Edward, trembling.

"For shame, brother!" cried old Jacob. "Sir, it was by Edward’s
free consent and my niece’s; but the guillotine was in the court-
yard! Question Schneider’s famulus, the man Gregoire, him who
reads ‘The Sorrows of Werter.’"

Gregoire stepped forward, and looked hesitatingly at Schneider, as
he said, "I know not what took place within doors; but I was
ordered to put up the scaffold without; and I was told to get
soldiers, and let no one leave the house."

"Citizen St. Just," cried Schneider, "you will not allow the
testimony of a ruffian like this, of a foolish girl, and a mad ex-
priest, to weigh against the word of one who has done such service
to the Republic: it is a base conspiracy to betray me; the whole
family is known to favor the interest of the émigrés."

"And therefore you would marry a member of the family, and allow
the others to escape; you must make a better defence, citizen
Schneider," said St. Just, sternly.

Here I came forward, and said that, three days since, I had
received an order to quit Strasburg for Paris immediately after a
conversation with Schneider, in which I had asked him his aid in
promoting my marriage with my cousin, Mary Ancel; that he had heard
from me full accounts regarding her father’s wealth; and that he
had abruptly caused my dismissal, in order to carry on his scheme
against her.

"You are in the uniform of a regiment of this town; who sent you
from it?" said St. Just.

I produced the order, signed by himself, and the despatches which
Schneider had sent me.

"The signature is mine, but the despatches did not come from my
office. Can you prove in any way your conversation with Schneider?"

"Why," said my sentimental friend Gregoire, "for the matter of
that, I can answer that the lad was always talking about this young
woman: he told me the whole story himself, and many a good laugh I
had with citizen Schneider as we talked about it."

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