For the King (41 page)

The final tally of the attack was twenty-two dead and fifty-six permanently maimed. Those would receive a lifetime pension from the Nation. Forty-six houses on Rue Nicaise had been destroyed, many more damaged. The entire street was condemned to make way for a wider, more handsome thoroughfare, with a new name, one that would not evoke the slaughter of innocents.

Carbon and Saint-Régent were found guilty of conspiracy to assassinate the First Consul and sentenced to death. So was Limoëlan, still missing. Saint-Régent, when advised by the presiding judge of his right to appeal, rose proudly, his hand to his breast, and demanded to be executed forthright. The other defendants were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment.

Yet Saint-Régent changed his mind, for both he and Carbon filed appeals, without success. On the 20th of April 1801, less than four months after the Rue Nicaise attack, the two men were led to the guillotine. The cart made its way through an unruly crowd that howled
Assassins of the people!
Carbon climbed the steps to the scaffold first and, before being strapped to the plank, cried
For the King!
Saint-Régent, waiting for his turn at the foot of the machine, lost his composure when the triangular blade, dripping with the blood of his companion, was raised again for him. His legs wobbled and the executioner’s aides had to assist him up the stairs.

The executions of Carbon and Saint-Régent did not help the deported Jacobins falsely accused of the Rue Nicaise attack. They remained overseas, where most died of tropical fevers and exhaustion.

Georges Cadoudal returned to London after the arrest of his accomplices. In the ensuing years, he kept sailing back and forth between France and England, and conspiring to assassinate the First Consul. In 1804, he was arrested in Paris after killing two police officers. He too perished on the guillotine.

As for the course of the war that was tearing Europe apart, short-lived peace treaties were signed on more than one occasion, more glorious campaigns followed, victories were won and celebrated, millions died on battlefields. Napoléon Bonaparte, after crowning himself Emperor of the French and conquering most of the continent, was finally defeated and had to abdicate the throne. He would die an exile, in British custody, on the faraway island of St. Helena in 1821.

Fouché was twice dismissed by Bonaparte from his position of Minister of Police, each time to return, more powerful, more indispensable, more distrusted than ever. He was made Duc d’Otrante in recognition of his services.

In 1815 Fouché played a determining role in the final ouster of Napoléon and the restoration of Louis XVIII, which allowed him to remain Minister of Police under the new regime. For a while. A year later, the King exiled him from France as a
régicide
.

Dubois, Prefect of Police, kept his position until 1810, when he was dismissed. He still held various public positions and rallied to the restored Bourbons but, despite all of his hopes and efforts, despite the vagaries of Fouché’s fortunes, he was never appointed Minister of Police.

Father de Clorivière, Limoëlan’s uncle, remained in hiding following the Rue Nicaise trial. He was finally arrested in 1804 and jailed at the Temple without charges ever being brought against him. In 1808, he was released on account of his advanced years and the Latin verses he had written in honor of Napoléon. He died in 1820, at the age of eighty-five.

As for Limoëlan himself, sentenced to death
in absentia
, he left Paris for his native Brittany. He spent a few months in the family château that bore his name and had become the home of his newly wedded sister Marie-Thérèse. She had at last married her suitor, who had come into a large estate in America.

Limoëlan was not as fortunate as his sister. He had hoped to wed his fiancée, Mademoiselle Julie d’Albert, but fate had decided otherwise. Julie, during a tearful last meeting, informed him that, at the time of his greatest danger, she had vowed to forsake him forever if by some miracle he escaped unharmed. Now that her prayers had been answered, she intended to keep her pledge and take the veil. She gently suggested that Limoëlan too open his heart to God.

Soon his sister Marie-Thérèse’s husband, Monsieur de Chapdelaine, had to travel to America with his bride to take possession of his fortune. He offered a passage on the same ship to Limoëlan, disguised as his valet.

Once in America, Limoëlan became a painter of miniature portraits under various names. He settled for a while in Savannah, then in Baltimore. Yet something was still missing from his life. At last, in 1812, like his former fiancée eleven years earlier, he received God’s call. “The angel who was the instrument of my conversion showed me the way,” he wrote.

He was ordained a priest in Charleston, South Carolina, under the name of Joseph-Pierre de Clorivière, adopted in honor of Father de Clorivière, his uncle. Perhaps the new cleric also felt that the name
Limoëlan
, even across an ocean and after the passage of twelve years, might still carry unfortunate associations with the Rue Nicaise atrocity. Whatever the reasons for the adoption of this name, Father de Clorivière, who became a curate in Charleston, was noted for his piety. He would fast on the holiday of Christmas, which he spent prostrated in prayers at the foot of the altar.

In 1814, he was overwhelmed with joy at the news of the fall of Bonaparte and the restoration of Louis XVIII. He forgot his usual reserve and was seen running through the streets of Charleston crying
Long Live the King!
He celebrated a
Te Deum
mass of thanksgiving in honor of the usurper’s fall, which angered some of his parishioners. He paid those no heed, for he was already planning his return home.

In France, his past efforts were acknowledged by the King, but some of his old friends, from whom he had expected an enthusiastic welcome, hinted that his ministry was more needed in America than in his native country.

He chose to return to his functions as a curate in Charleston. There he faced the resentment of those of his flock who did not share his political opinions. Furthermore, his life was marked by many disagreements with his superior, Father Gallagher. The enmity between the two clerics and their respective supporters escalated into a bitter pamphlet war.

Under these circumstances, Father de Clorivière accepted with relief and gratitude the function of spiritual director of the Convent of the Sisters of the Visitation of Mary in Georgetown. He devoted his life, and the 30,000 francs he had received from King Louis XVIII as damages for assets lost by his family during the Revolution, to this community.

He designed himself the Convent’s Chapel and oversaw its construction. It was dedicated it to the Sacred-Heart-of-Jesus, a symbol of the Visitation Order, and also the battle sign of the Catholic and Royal Army. The memory of all the Chouans who had died fighting with this emblem close to their own hearts never left him.

In 1826, Father de Clorivière tripped and fell after celebrating mass. He never recovered and passed away a few months later, at the age of fifty-six, attended to his last moment by the Sisters of the Visitation. He was laid to rest in his beloved Chapel, beneath the altar.

Acknowledgments

This novel was written thanks to my mother. For a year her spare bedroom became my office as I typed away on my laptop. She listened to my ideas, and offered support and advice.

Stephanie Cabot, of The Gernert Company, was everything an agent should be, and then some. It is truly a joy to work with her.

Erika Imranyi, my editor, took over the project midway, adopted it and brought it to fruition. My thanks go to her and the whole team at Dutton.

Last but not least, my son, William, offered to review the final drafts of my manuscript. He made insightful suggestions, which I followed. Congratulations on your very first editing job, William, and welcome to the literary world!