Read A Place of Greater Safety Online
Authors: Hilary Mantel
A Place of Greater Safety (98 page)
“Don’t I look as if I can take care of myself?”
“Of course, but don’t you realize, there are gangs of armed robbers—can’t I take you somewhere?”
“Not unless you’re prepared to go back the way you came.”
“Of course. No trouble.”
“All right.” He spoke to the coachman. “You know Robespierre’s house?”
He had the satisfaction of hearing a minute quaver in Hébert’s voice. “And when did you arrive back?”
“Two hours ago.”
“And the family? All well?”
“Hébert, you really are a most unpleasant person,” Danton said, settling himself opposite in the well-upholstered seat, “so it’s no use pretending otherwise.”
“Yes, I see.” Hébert gave a sort of nervous giggle. “Danton, you may have heard about certain speeches I have made.”
“Attacking my friends.”
“Don’t put it like that,” Hébert said reproachfully. “After all, if they’ve nothing to be ashamed of—I’m just offering them a chance to show what good patriots they are.”
“They have already shown it.”
“But surely, none of us should be afraid to have our conduct held up to scrutiny? The point is, Danton, that I shouldn’t like you to imagine that I was criticizing you, yourself.”
“I don’t think you would dare.”
“As a matter of fact, I thought that a tactical alliance between us—”
“I could as confidently form a tactical alliance with a sponge.”
“Well, think about it,” Hébert said, without rancor. “By the way, Camille’s in a bad state, isn’t he? Fainting like that.”
“I’ll tell him of your concern.”
“Chose the most inopportune moment. People are saying—quite understandably I suppose—that he’s regretting his part in bringing Brissot down. Soft-hearted, dear Marat used to say. Though it seems fearfully inconsistent with his past conduct. ’89. The lynchings. Mm. Here we are. Now then—how shall I put it? Citizen Robespierre’s a slippery fish this month. Hard to handle. Take care.”
“Thank you, Hébert, for transporting me.”
Danton swung down from the carriage. Hébert’s white face appeared beside him. “Persuade Camille to take a holiday,” he said.
“He might,” Danton said, “take the day off if it were your funeral.”
The unctuous smile froze. “Is that a declaration of war?”
Danton shrugged. “As you like,” he said. “Drive on,” he shouted to the coachman. Standing in the street, he wanted to shout obsenities after Père Duchesne, chase him and drive a first into his face. Hostilities begin here.
“S
o how’s your little sister liking married life?” Danton asked Eléonore.
o how’s your little sister liking married life?” Danton asked Eléonore.
Eléonore flushed darkly. “All right I suppose. Philippe Lebas doesn’t amount to so much.”
You poor, spiteful, disappointed cow, he thought. “I can find my own way,” he said.
There was no answer when he knocked. He pushed the door open and walked straight into Robespierre’s belligerent stare. He was sitting at his desk with pen, ink, one small notebook.
“Pretending not to be here, then?”
“Danton.” Robespierre got to his feet. He colored slightly. “I’m sorry, I thought it was Cornélia.”
“Well, what a way to treat your lady friend! Sit down, relax. What were you writing? A love letter to somebody else?”
“No, as a matter of fact I—never mind.” Robespierre flicked the little book shut. He sat down at his desk and joined his hands in an attitude of rather nervous prayer. “I could have done with you a week ago, Danton. Chabot came to see me. I—well, what did you ever think of Chabot?”
Danton noted the past tense. “I think he is a red-faced buffoon with a cap of liberty on his head and very little of a brain beneath it.”
“This marriage of his, you know … the Frei brothers are to be arrested tomorrow. It was the marriage that trapped him.”
“The dowry,” Danton said.
“Just so. The so-called brothers are millionaires. And Chabot, he likes
all that—he’s susceptible. Well, how not? He’s kept too many frozen Lents.”
all that—he’s susceptible. Well, how not? He’s kept too many frozen Lents.”
Danton looked closely at Robespierre. He’s softening? Possibly.
“It’s the girl I feel sorry for, the little Jewess.”
“Yes, but then,” Danton said, “they say she’s not the sister of either of them. They say she was bought out of a brothel in Vienna.”
“They’ll say anything, won’t they? I do know one thing—Chabot’s servant has given birth to his child since he left her. And this is the man who spoke so touchingly to the Jacobins last September about the rights of illegitimate children.”
You can never tell what will upset Robespierre most, Danton thought: treason, peculation or sex. “Anyway—Chabot came to see you, you were saying.”
“Yes.” Robespierre shook his head, amused by the human condition. “He had a packet with him which he said contained 100,000 francs.”
“You should have counted it.”
“It was wastepaper, for all I know. He went on in his usual way about plotters, and I said. ‘Have you any documentary evidence?’ He said, ‘I do, but,’” Robespierre laughed, “‘it’s all written in invisible ink.’ Then he said, ‘This money was given to me to bribe the Committee of Public Safety with, so I thought the best thing to do was to bring it to you. Can I have a safe conduct? I think I ought to get out of the country.’” He looked up at Danton. “Pitiable, isn’t it? We had him picked up at eight o’clock the next morning. He’s in the Luxembourg now. We made the mistake of letting him have pen and ink, so now every day he produces yards and yards of self-justificatory maundering which he sends to the Police Committee. Your name crops up a lot, I’m afraid.”
“And not in invisible ink?” Danton asked. “Talking of which—” He took Robespierre’s letter out of his pocket and dropped it on the desk between them. “Well, my old friend—what’s all this about doing away with Hébert?”
“Ah,” Robespierre said. “Camille and I got together and had a little panic.”
“I see. So I came all this way because you had a little panic.”
“I spoiled your holiday? I’m sorry. You’re quite better, though?”
“Fighting fit. I’m just trying to work out where’s the fight.”
“You know,” Robespierre cleared his throat, “I really think that by New Year our position may be quite favorable. As long as we get Toulon back. And here in Paris, rid ourselves of these anti-religious fanatics. Your friend Fabre is doing a good job on the so-called businessmen. Tomorrow I intend to obtain four expulsions from the Jacobins.”
“Of?”
“Proli, this Austrian who has worked for Hérault. And three of Hébert’s friends. To put them outside the club paralyzes them. And it serves as a warning to others.”
“I must point out that recently expulsion from the club has been the prelude to arrest. And yet Camille says you favor an end to the Terror?”
“I wouldn’t put it—quite so—I mean, I think in a couple of months we may be able to relax, but there are still a number of foreign agents that we have to flush out.”
“And that aside, you’d favor a return to the normal judicial process, and bringing in the new constitution?”
“We’re still at war, that’s the trouble. Very much at war. You know what the Convention said—‘The government of France is revolutionary until the peace.’”
“‘Terror is the order of the day.’”
“It was the wrong word, perhaps. You’d think the populace was going around with its teeth chattering. But it isn’t so. The theaters are open as usual.”
“For the performance of patriotic dramas. They bore me, patriotic dramas.”
“They are more wholesome than what the theater used to provide.”
“How would you know? You never go to the theater.”
Robespierre blinked at him. “Well, it seems, logically, that it must be so. I can’t oversee everything. I haven’t time to go to the theater. But if we return to the point—you must understand that in my private capacity I don’t like what has been happening, but I have to admit that politically it has been necessary. Now if Camille were here he would demolish that, but, well, Camille is a theoretician and I have to get on with things in the Committee and reconcile myself … as best I can. The way I see it … externally, our situation is much better, but internally we still have an emergency; we still have the Vendee rebels, and a capital full of conspirators. The Revolution is not safe from day to day.”
“Do you know what the hell it is you do want?”
Robespierre looked up at him helplessly. “No.”
“Can’t you think it out?”
“I don’t know what’s best to do. I seem to be surrounded by people who claim to have all the solutions, but mostly they involve more killings. There are more factions now than before we destroyed Brissot. I am trying to keep them apart, stop them destroying each other.”
“If you wanted to stop the executions, how much support would you have on the Committee?”
“Robert Lindet for sure, probably Couthon and Saint-André: Barère perhaps—I never know what Barère is thinking.” He kept count on his fingers. “Collot and Billaud-Varennes would be against any policy of moderation.”
“God,” Danton said reflectively, “Citizen Billaud, the big tough committeeman. He used to come round to my office, ’86, ’87, and I used to give him work drafting pleadings, so he could keep body and soul together.”
“Yes. No doubt he’ll never forgive you.”
“What about Hérault?” Danton said. “You’ve forgotten him.”
“No, not forgotten.” Robespierre avoided his eyes. “I think you know he no longer enjoys our confidence. I trust you’ll sever your links with him?”
Let it pass, Danton thought: let it pass. “Saint-just?”
Robespierre hesitated. “He would see it as weakness.”
“Can you not influence him?”
“Perhaps. He has had remarkable successes in Strasbourg. He will tend to think he is working on the right lines. And when people have been with the armies, a few lives in Paris don’t seem so important to them. The others—I can probably pull them into line.”
“Then get rid of Collot and Billaud-Varennes.”
“Not possible. They have the backing of all Hébert’s people.”
“Then get rid of Hébert.”
“And we’re back to a policy of Terror.” Robespierre looked up. “Danton, you haven’t spoken of your own place in this. You must have an opinion.”
Danton laughed. “You wouldn’t be so confident of that, if you knew me better. I shall bide my time. I suggest you do the same.”
“You know you’ll be attacked as soon as you appear in public? Hébert has insinuated certain things about your Belgian venture. I’m afraid your illness was regarded as largely mythical. People were saying you had emigrated to Switzerland with your ill-gotten gains.”
“We need a bit of solidarity, then.”
“Yes. I’ll speak for you, of course, at every opportunity. Get Camille to write something, do you think? Take his mind off things? I told him to stay away from trials. He’s very emotional, isn’t he?”
“You say that as if it were a surprise to you. As if you only met him last week.”
“I suppose the degree of it always does come as a surprise to me. Camille’s feelings seem uncontainable. Like natural disasters.”
“That can be useful, or it can be a nuisance.”
“That sounds cynical, Danton.”
“Does it? Well, perhaps it is.”
“So perhaps you feel cynical about Camille’s affection for you?”
“No, I rather feel grateful. I take what comes my way.”
“It’s a trait we have observed in you,” Robespierre said, with interest.
“Was that the royal plural?”
“No, I meant, Camille and I.”
“You discuss me?”
“We discuss everybody. Everything. But you know that. No one is closer than we are.”
“I accept your rebuke. Our friendships with Camille are both of a high order. Oh, that all his friendships had been the same!”
“I don’t see how they could have been, really.”
“No, you are pleased to be obtuse.”
Robespierre put his chin on his hand. “I am. Because I’ve had to compromise a lot to keep Camille’s friendship. It’s like everything else in my life. I spend my days crying, ‘Don’t tell me,’ and ‘Sweep that under the carpet before I come into the room.’”
“I didn’t know you knew that about yourself.”
“Oh yes. I am not a hypocrite myself, but I breed hypocrisy in other people.”
“You must, of course. Robespierre doesn’t lie or cheat or steal, doesn’t get drunk, doesn’t fornicate—overmuch. He’s not a hedonist or a mainchancer or a breaker of promises.” Danton grinned. “But what’s the use of all this goodness? People don’t try to emulate you. Instead they just pull the wool over your eyes.”
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