The Adventures of François / Foundling, Thief, Juggler, and Fencing-Master during the French Revolution

by S. Weir Mitchell

The dismalness of, these underground labyrinths was such as no man could imagine. One day they walked a half-mile through a wet cave-passage so narrow that two persons could not move abreast. It ended in a blank wall, and they were forced to go back, over shoe-top in water. Or, again, they went up rude stairs, stumbling, but hopeful, only to descend once more into the depths of the earth. Now and then a putrid rain fell on them, and at every turn the rats fled by them, now one and now a scurry of countless troops. Twice a mass of rock fell in some distant passage, and strange echoes reverberated in cavern spaces, so that the boys cried out in terror, and even François shivered at the thought of how they might be buried alive by one of these downfalls. Each sad day of weariness had its incident of terror or disappointment; and still, with lessening hope, they trailed on after the dim light which the duke carried as he led them—none knew whither. Each morning they rose cold, wet, and unrefreshed, ate of their lessening food, and after some little talk as to how this day they should keep turning to left or to right, set out anew, the duke still in advance, with an ever-changing mind as to where they were or what they should do. As day followed day, their halts became more frequent. They lingered where the dripping rain from the sewage of the great city overhead was least; or at times paused suddenly to listen to mysterious sounds, or to let the rats go by them, splashing in the noisome puddles underfoot. The night was as the day, the day as the night. They had no way to tell the one from the other, except by the duke's watch.

So confusing was this monotonous tramp underground, the days so much alike, that at last these sad people became bewildered as to how long they had wandered. Their food was becoming less and less, and on the evening of the fifth day the duke and François knew that very soon their stock of candles would be exhausted. These had, in fact, been of small use, except to keep the scared children more cheerful when night came on and the rats grew bold.

This evening of the fifth day, and earlier than usual, Mme. des Illes declared of a sudden that she could go no farther, and must rest for the night. The duke had a new plan, and urged her to go on. She cried over the baby on her lap, and made no answer. They sat down to pass another night of discomfort. After a little talk with the boys, François drew apart from the rest, and began to think over the wanderings of the day. Their situation this evening was somewhat better than it had usually been, for they sat in a dry end of one of the many excavations, and did not feel the cold, moist winds which howled along these stony caves, carrying a changeful variety of unwholesome stenches. A silent hour went by in utter darkness. At times François rose to drive away adventurous rats. At last he lighted a candle, and set it at the open end of the cul-de-sac. When he saw that the rats would not pass the lantern, he whispered to madame of this, and that he meant to explore a little, and bade her have no fear. The duke had thus far had his own way, and it had not been to François's taste. He took a second lantern, and moved off around a corner, resolute to find a means of escape. The duke ordered him to return and to put out the candle. François made no reply. He counted the turns as he went on, and listened for the noise of vehicles above him.

"A pretty duke, that!" he said. "I should have made as good a one. I like better that devil of a marquis; but diantre! neither is much afraid—nor I, for that matter."

Sometimes he turned back, at others went on boldly, noting whence blew any current of warmer air. At last he came upon an enormous excavation. In the middle was a mass of partly tumbled stone, laid in courses. This broken heap was large, and irregularly conical. He moved around it in wonder, having seen nothing like it in his explorations. He turned the yellow and feeble lantern-light upon the heap, and at first concluded that the old makers of these quarries had here built for themselves a house, which had fallen to ruin.

But where was he, and what part of Paris was over his head? He remembered at last to have heard that these catacombs were once used as receptacles for the dead, in order to relieve the overpeopled graveyards. Had he been less alarmed, he might have guessed where he was when they came upon the bones; for that must have been near to the cemetery of the Church of the Innocents. But while the duke had led, François had taken less than his usual active notice, and had been content to follow. Here, now, was a new landmark. This before him could be no dwelling of quarriers, but must be a house fallen into the great cave. He had heard of such happenings. To be certain where and on what street so strange a thing had occurred would afford knowledge as to the part of Paris under which he stood. He would ask the duke; he might know. Thus reflecting, he began to walk around the tumbled mass. A vast amount of earth must have come down with it. He pried here and there, and at last found a gap in the ruin, and crawled in between fallen timbers until he could stand up. On one side was a wall and a wide chimney-place, and on the top of this wall the great beams of the ceiling still rested. Their farther ends lay on what seemed the wreck of the opposite wall, thus leaving a triangular space filled in at each side by broken stone. Amid this were the crushed steps of a staircase, quite blocked up. The lantern gave little light. Only close to the fireplace could the tall thief stand erect. He turned his lantern, and cried out:

"Ye saints!" Close beside him were the remains of a high-backed chair, and on these, and beside them, portions of the bones of a man. Two great jack-boots lay beside him, gnawed by rats. His skull was broken, and lay where the eager animals had dragged it.

Few could have stood here alone, and not felt its terror and its mystery. François stood a moment, appalled, and unable to think or to observe. At last he began to study the place with care and increasing interest. A rusty sword, sheathed, was caught in the arm of the ruined chair. Here and there lay bits of gold lace. He picked up the rusted clasp of a purse, gnawed by the rats. Near it lay scattered a number of gold and silver coins, a rosary, and a small ring set with red stones. He put them all in his pocket. There was scarce a remnant of the man's dress.

François looked at the tumbled bones. "Mon Dieu!" said he; "am I like that?" and turned to see what else was here. On the lowest stair was a glint of yellow—a cross of gold. "Good luck!" he cried. On the hearth was a copper kettle, green with rust. Soon he began to see better, and at last found a fragment of wood less damp than the rest of the floor and what lay upon it; for a steady, slow, irregular rain fell in drops, with dull patter here and there. He shaved off some slivers of the wood, and, getting at the drier inside, soon, with paper from his pouch, made a fire on the stone pavement. Presently he had a bright little blaze, and in the brilliant glow began to shed his terror. He found other wood, and nourished the flame. But when he saw that the fragments were from the end of a crushed cradle, he ceased to use them; because here were little bones lying scattered, and the man guessed at the extent of the tragedy, and was strangely stirred. He moved to and fro in the tent-like space in awe and wonder, in thought reconstructing the house, and seeming to share in the horror of its story.

Before leaving, he looked again at the overturned chair, the stones lying about it, and the moldering remains of the man. He must have been asleep, and died instantly when the house fell into the great cave. There was no more to be seen. "God rest his soul!" said the thief, and crawled backward out of the tangle of broken beams and stones.