CHAPTER II
LONDON
While the Court and the Army of the émigrés were being organized at Coblentz and Worms, under the direction of Monsieur, Comte de Provence, of the Comte d’Artois, and of the Prince de Condé, and while rivalry and jealousies and a thousand other causes of dissension were already cropping up in that environment (so often and always so unfavourably depicted), other troops of similar fugitives were leaving the eastern coast and, embarking from the Channel port, or stopping first on the islands of Jersey and Guernsey, were gradually arriving on English soil, there to find an assured refuge. In the last months of 1791, and in the beginning of 1792, they came thither in thousands. Bretons, Normans, nobles, ecclesiastics, journalists, young officers, fleeing persecution, pillage, arbitrary arrests, came hastening to enjoy the hospitality of Great Britain.
London was soon full of refugees; but the majority of these unfortunate folk, despite their illustrious names, were in a state almost of destitution.
The more prosperous ones, those who had been able to rescue something from the shipwreck, succeeded in finding homes in the suburbs—modest boarding-houses, or little cottages—where they installed their families. But these were the exceptions; and in every street French gentlefolk were to be met with who had no property but what they carried on their backs. Many of them knew no English; and still overwhelmed by the dangers they had passed through, and thus suddenly plunged into strange surroundings, without resources, without even a handicraft, went wandering despairingly about the city, in search of bread.
They were not allowed to starve. Most admirably did English charity accept this influx of new inhabitants.
The last years of the reign of Louis XVI., together with the War of Independence in the United States, had markedly chilled the relations between France and her neighbours across the Channel. Revolutionary ideas from the frontiers had at first met with some sympathy amongst this favoured people, who had been in the enjoyment of true liberty for a century. But when English folk came to know of the excess which these ideas had resulted in, of the anarchy which had been let loose in all directions, of the violence which was the order of the day—their distrust, indignation, and horror effaced that earlier sympathy.
King George III., supported by his Minister, Pitt, felt from that time an aversion which grew to implacable hatred for anything even remotely connected with the French Revolution.[29]
On the other hand, he (and, indeed, almost the whole of the aristocracy) welcomed the refugees, and encouraged their sojourn in the kingdom—glad, no doubt, of the opportunity for displaying his opinion of the new ideas, by helping on the exodus of a part of the inhabitants of France, an exodus which would contribute to the weakening of that country.
Whatever the reason may have been, there is abundant evidence of the inexhaustible charity that the new-comers met with in English society. Benevolent committees were formed, presided over by dukes and duchesses, marquises and marchionesses.[30] When the first necessities of the poor creatures had been provided for by the establishment of cheap restaurants, hotels, and bazaars, their friends sought out occupations for them, so that they might be in a position to earn their own livelihood. The clergy were the first to profit by this solicitude. The decree of August 26, 1792, ordaining the deportation of non-juring priests, had driven them in a body from the continent. It was well for those who were thus driven out, for of their comrades who remained the most part were in the end persecuted and entrapped. The greater number chose England for their place of refuge. They came thither in crowds—so much so that, at the Terror, there were as many as 8000.[31] Many were Bretons. One of them, Carron, came to London preceded by a reputation for holiness. He had founded at Rennes a cotton-cloth factory which gave employment to more than 2000 poor people. The famous Decree of August 26 affected him, and thus forced him to abandon his enterprise. He went to Jersey, and recommenced his work there; but left the island at the end of some time, and came to settle in England. There he set up an alms-house for his destitute coreligionists, and acted the part of a sort of Providence to them. Nor was he the only one they had.
Jean-François de la Marche, Bishop of Saint-Pol-de-Léon, had, ever since the early months of 1791, incurred the wrath and fury of the Attorney-General of the department of Finisterre. This prelate, who was profoundly loved in his diocese, refused to give up his bishopric, which had recently been suppressed by the National Assembly. He was accused of fomenting agitation in the department, and of inciting the curés to resistance. He was violently denounced at the National Assembly, and treated as a disturber of the public peace. Summoned to Paris to exculpate himself, together with his colleagues, the Bishops of Tréguier and Morbihan, he took no notice of the order, and to escape arrest, which threatened him, and for which he was being pursued by the Cavalry Police, he had but one resource—to get right away from Brittany. He came to London in the first batch of émigrés. From the outset he had but one idea: to look after his companions in misfortune, to help them in their need, to find employment for them. To this end he served as intermediary between the Government and the priests, pleading the cause of these latter, and keeping registers of the names and qualifications of all with whom he became concerned.