The prince was fond of telling a story à propos of Sièyes, illustrative of the theory of great results from little causes. He was one day walking with him through the Tuileries, when, just opposite to the gate in the Place de la Concorde, a little beggar girl, leading an old woman on crutches, came up to solicit alms. Sièyes gave her a sou, which, in her hurry to seize, she let fall, and the coin rolled under the hoofs of the charger mounted by the garde du corps on duty at the gate. The child pressed forward to pick it up, but each time that she stooped, almost at the risk of her life, the soldier, apparently glad to divert the ennui of sentry by an event of this kind, spurred the animal to one side, and the wretched little girl, to avoid being crushed to death, was compelled to withdraw, to renew her endeavours again as soon as the beast stood still, but each time with as little success as before. The whole scene—the terror of the child—the overboiling wrath of the old cripple, and the insolent and cruel mirth of the garde du corps, presented altogether a most exciting spectacle, and, combined with the angry passions of the crowd, who were not slow to take the part of the child, formed a picture not easily forgotten.
“Sièyes, finding that the people were growing angry, thought it best to put an end to the scene at once; so, giving the girl a double sou, he bade her begone, which injunction she immediately obeyed, and the crowd forthwith dispersed. But Sièyes remained thoughtful and pre-occupied during the whole evening; and, when he parted with his friend, he said, ‘I have been thinking over the occurrence we witnessed together this morning. Something must be done for the people. When they have an army of their own, they will not run the risk of being insulted by hired mercenaries.’
“This was the very first idea which had ever entered human brain respecting the formation of a national guard. Once started, the idea found favour with all the disaffected. Sièyes himself planned and invented the projet, and, by dint of perseverance, got it accepted some long time afterwards. Little did the proud Garde Nationale, when they marched to the frontier—when they dictated laws to the country—when they barricaded Paris—dream that they owed their existence and creation to a halfpenny which a starving beggar wench found it hard to pick out of the gutter!
“Apropos of this story, there is an addition to it which the prince always gives us, and which you, who are come of a superstitious race, and plead guilty to the accusation of superstition yourself, will perhaps like to hear. M. de Talleyrand had taken peculiar notice of the soldier who bestrode the charger. He was a remarkably handsome youth, quite an exquisite, an incroyable, with coal-black moustaches and royale, and snow-white powdered hair,—a combination that certainly gives a piquant expression to the countenance, which all the fine chestnut hair or raven locks in the world, however redundant, however silky, can never impart. Besides, it suited so well with the costume of the period, that it would seem as if the one had been invented on purpose to show off the other. However, to my story. You may well imagine that the old cripple had not left the spot, however well satisfied she might be with the unexpected generosity of Sièyes, without loading the air with curses upon the head of the young garde du corps. She was a filthy hag, blear-eyed, and lame; and it was fearful to hear her, as she tossed her rags aloft upon the wind, utter such awful maledictions, in a screaming, discordant voice, that the blood ran cold to listen. The soldier sat in calm defiance on his saddle, in the prettiest attitude imaginable. Stiff, starched, on duty, without moving a muscle, with his hat on one side, and his hand bent, and resting on his thigh, he looked straight at the woman, for fear of being suspected of wishing to shun her gaze; but he betrayed no heed of her words, save by a slight smile, which curled his lip, whereon rested a green leaf (as was the fashion among the bucks of that day), to keep it moist, and prevent its cracking by exposure to the sun.
“The old witch, enraged at finding that her words produced no greater effect, at length raised her crutch in the young man’s face, and shrieked a fearful malison. ‘Proud as you are, jackanapes, I shall live to see your soul in h—, and your body devoured by the dogs!’ With this, she hobbled away, and we also turned aside in disgust, while the young man remained immovable and unconcerned, as though the words had not been addressed to him at all.
“The event I have been relating took place before the breaking out of the revolution. Now rejoice, and listen, thou northern believer in prophecy and witches. The very day after the return of the king and queen from Versailles, when traversing the Place Louis Quinze, M. de Talleyrand was attracted by a crowd gathered round one of the deep fossés, by which the place is intersected, and, on going up, there beheld the body of the unhappy garde-du-corps, lying all mangled and bloody at the bottom. Some men belonging to the police were endeavouring to catch at the corpse with hooks, in order to drag it to the surface; and, as they did so, it was discovered that a great part of the throat and breast had been gnawed away by starving dogs during the night. The poor lad had been doubtless murdered by some unknown hand during the bustle and confusion of the previous day, and thrown into this convenient place, and thus was the prophecy fulfilled.”
C. rose as he finished his story, and gazing around, said, laughingly, “See you now the misfortune of having to do with professed story-tellers? We began with the history of this unfinished hunting seat, and have paused at the beginning of the French Revolution!”
“I need not lose by the delay, however,” said I; “you can tell me the tale of this ruin as we go home.”
“I remember,” replied C., “the sight of the building brought to mind the subject, which has formed a study of mine ever since I have been with the prince—his powerful and varied influence with all who approach him—and it was thus that I was led into this long digression. This building, which you now see so ruined and degraded, was intended to have been one of the most remarkable objects of the whole country round. It was planned and designed by the late Princess T——, as a surprise and galanterie for the prince, who had once, when taking a drive in her company, expressed an opinion that this would be a good site for a maison de plaisance. The princess said nothing in reply, but immediately on her return to the château, despatched a courier with letters to Chateauroux, containing orders for architects, surveyors, masons, and all the attirail of building, to be sent immediately to the spot; and, in less time than you can well imagine, the foundations of a goodly-sized building, with courts and dépendances, befitting the residence of a repose-seeking prince, were erected. Expense was to be considered nought—despatch everything—workmen were to be employed night and day until the edifice was completed. All this was, moreover, to be kept a profound secret until the building was quite ready to inhabit, when the princess proposed leading the company at the château through the wood to the spot, and then, enjoying their surprise, to request their attendance at a ball and collation of her own providing, in the maison de plaisance, ‘which she had built as a present to the Prince de Talleyrand.’
“Meanwhile the prince, being again abroad with the princess on another fine day—in quite an opposite direction, almost drove her mad, by suddenly stopping to admire another view. ‘Of all places in the wood, this is the exact spot I should choose, were I consulted, to erect a maison de plaisance!’ said he.