As a matter of fact, Peltier and d’Auerweck hastened, on hearing of what had happened, to convey their sympathy to their friend, and, like true journalists, spread the tidings in every direction, thus intensifying Cormier’s uneasiness.
“But I must only try and put aside this anxiety,” he continues, “as I have so many others. I have not yet started; I shall not start before Monday or Tuesday, because I must wait for replies from Dieppe, which cannot arrive before Sunday or Monday. Have no fears; my courage will not fail me—indeed, at present it is taking the shape of a feeling of rage, which I am trying to keep down. You will have learnt from the public prints that the statement has gone out that the King has been carried off to the army of the Prince of Saxe-Coburg. This false report has troubled me a good deal. I don’t want attention to be directed that way just now, especially as something has happened which would increase our confidence—something which I cannot at present confide to paper. Do not exert yourself too much, madame; do not measure your efforts by your courage. Your friends beg this of you.”
In all these letters of the Breton magistrate there is a real ring of sincerity. The admiration he feels for this interesting woman resolves itself into a whole-hearted devotion to her cause, and if, later, her large fortune and her generosity seem to have too large a part in Cormier’s thoughts and too great an influence upon his actions, at least he must be credited with absolute frankness throughout.
The death of Sir Edward Atkyns on March 27, 1794, gave Cormier an opportunity for expressing his sympathy with the widow, and of enlarging still further upon his feelings. The scant mention made of Sir Edward, indeed, in the correspondence of this little circle suggests that the relations between husband and wife must have become perceptibly colder of late. It is probable that the baronet looked with disfavour upon his wife’s schemes and the heavy outlay they entailed.
“A score of times,” writes Cormier, “I have taken pen in hand this morning to express to you the intense interest with which I have learnt of the sad event which occurred, and as often my courage has failed me. Truly you have been the victim of many misfortunes. Will the Fates never have done pursuing you? You must only make use of the great qualities Providence has given you to bear up against what has befallen. Your courage is exceptional. Make the most of a quality which is rare with men, but rarer still in women. As for me, I vow I shall not give in under my misfortune, and shall not be put off by any perils.... I have not started yet, and shall not start to-morrow, not having yet received the letters I was expecting. If they come to-morrow, I shall start on Thursday. So that this delay may not cause you anxiety, I may mention that in the last letters which have come to me, he who left last ... asks me not to start until I heard again from him. He has not been beyond D(ieppe), and the others have returned from P(aris) to take counsel with him—I don’t know on what.”
These last words show that something was already happening on the Breton coast, and that it was desired to send news of interest to Cormier. But the departure postponed so often was still impracticable, and Cormier began to lose patience.
“I am still kept here,” he writes. “It is becoming incensing. I feel as though I were being chained up, but prudence and common sense keep me quiet. I get news regularly from D(ieppe). I have just received a third letter enjoining me to make no movement until they give me the word, and insisting that the success of our project and the safety of him who is so precious to us depend upon this. I don’t understand, however, their not telling us why and how.... I have lost patience, and have sent one of these gentlemen.[72] (That is not the same as myself.) I am afraid that Hamelin may really have been killed; I can’t make it out at all.”
Who was Hamelin? It is difficult to guess. It is difficult to identify a great many of the individuals of whom there is question in these letters, and who are designated by borrowed names. The most elementary prudence called for absolute secrecy concerning the names of the agents who were working for our committee, and although the messages were carried by the most trustworthy emissaries, it was always possible that one of them might be arrested en route. This doubles our difficulty in clearing up the imbroglio, and enhances a mystery already sufficiently troublesome.
Failing Mme. Cormier, who was still under arrest, and whose absence had been making itself felt more and more, another arrangement had been made for securing news from Paris. At what expense? Heaven knows! But once again money had set tongues going and procured the needed help. Cormier, coming back to the question of his departure, writes again (April 14, 1794) to his friend to tell her of the messages he has sent from England:—
“I shall not start until this evening,” he tells her. “You can guess why. I have just despatched two messengers. Things are moving, but very slowly. However, let us not lose heart. If we go slowly we go all the more surely, and every day achieve something which helps to advance our schemes and to keep us in security. Therefore do not be impatient.”