A SCOUNDREL ENGLISHMAN
As is well known, this poor woman was literally hounded to death by an Englishman, George Grieve by name; he was a native of Alnwick, in Northumberland, where he early in life distinguished himself by his Radical proclivities. Having squandered the patrimony bequeathed to him by his father, an attorney of some local standing, he went to America in 1780, where, it is said, he met Washington, Franklin, and other lights of the young American Republic. In 1783 he came to Paris, in which city he appears to have posed, perhaps with authority, as an American representative in the revolutionary demonstrations which were already beginning to agitate the French. Later on, grandiloquently styling himself, “Factieux et anarchiste de premier ordre et désorganisateur du despotisme dans les deux hémisphères depuis vingt ans”—a title, by the way, which might be recommended to the consideration of some of our modern socialists—Grieve took advantage of Madame du Barry’s absence in London in 1792 (to which city she had gone to look after her stolen diamonds) to take up his residence at Louveciennes, where she possessed a splendid residence, and where she was adored by the peasantry, to whom she ever dispensed a truly regal charity. By bribery and persuasion this apostle of progress gained over two of her servants, and then, managing to obtain an order for seals to be placed on her papers and valuables, installed himself in her house whilst procuring its mistress’s arrest on her return to France. The villagers, however, mindful of the goodness of their Lady Bountiful, petitioned for and obtained her release. Grieve, no doubt desiring that his own very doubtful dealings with the contents of her château should not be exposed, again managed to get her arrested, but, as on the previous occasion, a petition of the inhabitants of Louveciennes once more set her free. In November 1793, the wretch, who was quite determined not to be balked of his prey, finally ran his unfortunate quarry to ground, and was successful in getting the favourite of Louis XV. tried and led to the guillotine. Her persecutor, unlike many of his fellow-benefactors of humanity, contrived to survive the Terror, and died peacefully in Brussels in 1809, having in the interval once more made a journey to America, where he published a translation of Chastellux’s travels.
It is curious to learn that Grieve, who was evidently full of Anglo-Saxon hypocrisy, had the effrontery to make a personal appeal to the Convention, in which he demanded the head of the Du Barry “in the name of good morals.” The real truth of course being, as has been said, that this scoundrel (who had obtained permission to make an inventory of her valuables, which he drew up absolutely alone, entrance to her residence at Louveciennes being closed to all but him) had made away with much of her money and jewellery, and was in consequence determined to have their unfortunate owner sent to another world in order that his own defalcations might evade detection. In all probability he buried a certain amount of treasure in the grounds of Madame du Barry’s house; at all events local rumour has always declared that gold and jewels lie hidden in the earth there. Many searches have been made, but no valuables discovered. A skull, however,—in all probability that of the Due de Cossé-Brissac, the Royal favourite’s last lover,—was dug up near the house. Brissac having been hacked to pieces at Versailles, some youths got hold of the head, and in high glee carried it on a dung-fork to Louveciennes, where they hurled it through the open windows of the Du Barry’s salon.
ZAMOR
A principal agent of Grieve in his campaign against Madame du Barry was her black page, Zamor, who appears in many a picture, fantastically dressed, standing by the side of the beautiful mistress of Louis XV. The old King himself took the greatest interest in Zamor, and bored as he usually was with everything, would yet sometimes deign to smile at the pleasantries of the spoilt little negro, who was allowed to take pretty well any liberties he pleased. Zamor had been originally brought from Bengal as a child by an English sea-captain, and, having been made chief page to the favourite (who acquired him as a pleasing contrast to her white dog and her monkeys), received an excellent education after being baptized with the greatest pomp. Nevertheless, in spite of the favours with which his mistress had loaded him, Zamor turned against her at the time when one word from him could have saved her head. An ardent student of Rousseau and an enthusiastic democrat, this little negro attained a certain position in revolutionary circles, being given an official position in the district of Versailles. He was called as an important witness at the trial of his benefactress, and manifesting the greatest bitterness against her, coldly and brutally gave such testimony as directly contributed to her condemnation.
His ingratitude, however, did him no good, for, falling into disgrace with the revolutionary authorities, he soon sank into the most dire poverty, the property which he had amassed being got out of him by a designing milliner. In old age he supported life by giving elementary lessons to the children in the quarter of Paris which he inhabited, where the little wizened old man was well known as “the negro who had betrayed la du Barry.”
Silent and taciturn, he retained the cult of the revolutionary doctrine to the end of his life, which seems to have occurred somewhere about 1820, his little room being decorated to the last with the portraits of Marat and Robespierre, whilst the works of Rousseau, his favourite author, occupied a prominent place upon his modest bookshelf.
Zamor was a traitor, it is true, but there is no doubt he was sincere in his devotion to the revolutionary ideal, whereas the arch-scoundrel Grieve was nothing but an egotistical hypocrite—a callous, canting rogue.
THE JERNINGHAM FAMILY
An ancient Norfolk family, which in old days had much to do with France, is that of Jerningham of Costessey Hall. Many of its members indeed, prevented from entering the English army owing to their unswerving adherence to the Roman Catholic faith, crossed the Channel and took service under the banners of the French king, attaining in several cases to high military command. The last of these to do this was General Jerningham, Colonel Commandant of several Irish regiments under Louis XVI., who, returning to England after the Revolution, died at Costessey in 1814. At the present day the best known representatives of this old family are that distinguished man, Sir Hubert Jerningham, and his brother, Mr. Charles Edward Jerningham, a cultured collector and authority upon prints of Old London. A peculiarity of the Jerninghams is that, though they have steadfastly adhered to the Roman Catholic Church, no one of them has ever been a priest, or, on the other hand, become a Protestant; though Mr. Edward Jerningham, the friend of Horace Walpole, well known as a good scholar and elegant poet, did, I believe, more or less abjure his faith and declare himself an Agnostic. Notwithstanding the very strong anti-Catholic feeling which in old days prevailed in Norfolk (the bells of the Norwich churches were rung on the rejection of the Catholic Emancipation Bill in 1825), the Jerninghams did not, like so many of their co-religionists, abstain from social intercourse with their Protestant neighbours, with whom, in spite of their faith, they were always very popular. One of the Dillons, a close connection of the family of which I have been speaking, took a leading part in the many attempts made to rescue the unfortunate Dauphin who, according to the most modern authorities, was actually got out of the Temple, a substituted child being left in his stead. Another Norfolkian also made several strenuous efforts to the same end. This was a lady, Mrs. Atkyns of Ketteringham Hall, near Norwich, who expended practically her entire fortune in efforts to save the unfortunate Prince.