Authors: Lorena Dureau
Vidal came to an abrupt halt and stood there on the wooden
banquette looking down with sudden curiosity at the deceivingly
innocent faces of the two little radicals staring back at him in the
light of the rising moon.
"Leaflets?" he echoed suspiciously, still holding firmly
on to their arms. "What leaflets?"
With a startled gasp, Celeste put her hand belatedly to
her lips. "
Mon Dieu
!" she exclaimed in dismay as
Monique shot her an accusing glance.
"Answer me," insisted Vidal. "What leaflets? Has someone
been giving you Jacobin propaganda?"
"Only… only some printed circulars that were
thrown around the city a few weeks ago…" stammered Celeste.
But Vidal suspected there was more to it than that. For a
moment he stood there trying to fathom the wide-eyed, confused little
countenances looking up so fearfully at him. Then he continued down the
Rue Roy ale once more, but at a slightly slower pace, while his
suddenly abashed cousins walked in silence beside him. They were
passing by the grounds behind the cathedral now, and most of the huts
were already dark and silent, although a few had candles flickering
like restless fireflies in their tiny cloth-covered windows.
Miguel resolved to investigate the matter further once
they got back home. God help him! Here he was with two hotheaded little
rebels on his hands! Something had to be done before his young wards
got themselves into more trouble than they bargained for!
There
was quite a tempest in the Chausson house-hold for the
next few days. The aftermath of the theatrical outing had begun with a
complete search of the girls' room. Amid a flood of tears and protests,
Mlle. Baudier, on Vidal's orders, had gone methodically through every
nook and corner of that frilly little bedchamber until her search
finally had come to an end underneath Monique's four-poster bed.
Then, while his two wards had stood by squirming
helplessly as they watched his mounting fury, their guardian read over
the half-dozen throw-sheets that had been unearthed from below a pile
of dog-eared volumes by Voltaire and Rousseau and a Dufoe novel rated
as "scandalous" by the shocked Mlle. Baudier.
Vidal's voice fluctuated from a hasty mumble to indignant
exclamations whenever he came to parts of the leaflets that especially
enraged him.
" 'Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood… The Freemen
of France to their brothers in Louisiana… second year of the
French Republic," read Vidal. "The moment has arrived when despotism
must disappear from the earth. France, having obtained her
freedom… is not satisfied with successes by which she alone
would profit, but declares to all nations that she is ready to give her
powerful assistance to those that may be disposed to follow her
virtuous example…"
" 'Frenchmen of Louisiana, you still love your mother
country; such a feeling is innate in your hearts. The French nation,
knowing your sentiments, and indignant at seeing you the victims of the
tyrants by whom you have been so long oppressed, can and will avenge
your wrongs…' "
"By all the saints! What rubbish!" Vidal began to pace the
room angrily as he continued. "The hour has struck, Frenchmen of Louisiana. Hasten to
profit by the great lesson you have received. Now is the time to cease
being the slaves of a government to which you were shamefully
sold…' " He looked up, angrier than ever.
"I notice they say nothing about the French government
that did the 'shameful selling'! But I might add that Louisiana was not
sold, but rather given to Spain in payment for its having lost part of
its own colonies while helping out France as its ally, no less!"
He read on, his anger increasing by the minute. " 'The
Spanish despotism has surpassed in atrocity and stupidity all the other
despotisms that have ever been known. Has not barbarism always been the
companion of that government, which has rendered the Spanish name
execrable and horrible in the whole continent of America? Is it not
that nation who, under the hypocritical mask of religion, ordered or
permitted the sacrifice of more than twenty millions of
men?…' "
"
Qué barbaridad
! As if France has
been so lily-white! What about that bloodbath that's been going on
there with the guillotine for years now under the hypocritical name of
justice?" he asked indignantly. Then he continued, his voice dropping
again to a mumble for a few more paragraphs, while his wards nervously
waited in dread for his next outburst.
" '…all that you possess depends on the caprice
of a viceroy, who is always unjust, avaricious, and vindictive.' That's
not true! To the contrary, I daresay the baron has been a better, more
conscientious governor than most of those you had while under French
rule. Most certainly he's been incredibly patient with these rebels
around town! You people here in the Louisiana colony don't realize how
much more freedom you enjoy than any place in Europe or even the other
Spanish colonies here in America."
" '… know ye that your brethren, who have
attacked with success the Spanish government in Europe, will in a short
time present themselves on your coast with naval forces; that the
republicans of the western portion of the United States are ready to
come down the Ohio and Mississippi in company with a considerable
number of French republicans and to rush to your assistance under the
banners of France and liberty…' "
"God in heaven! But this is treasonous—inciting
open rebellion!" he exclaimed in amazement as his dark, flashing eyes
raced ahead over the paragraphs that followed. Suddenly his voice rose
again.
" '… it will be in your power to unite
voluntarily with France and your neighbors—the United States
—forming with these two republics an alliance to our mutual
political and commercial interest.' Aha! Now we come to the
grano
—the
real motives behind all of this high-sounding poppycock!"
" 'Your country will derive the greatest advantages from so
auspicious a revolution…' Of course, and so will France and
the United States! Those French Jacobins of Philadelphia, who are
behind all this propaganda, don't give a fig for you people here in
Louisiana. What they want is to get control of the Mississippi River
and the whole valley with it." He read on rapidly now to the fiery
conclusion.
" 'Gather up your courage, Frenchmen of Louisiana. Away
with pusillanimity…
Ça ira… Ça ira!' "
Vidal let out a roar. "
Vaya
! So this
is where you've been getting all those foolish ideas of yours, little
cousins! Do you realize this is treasonous material? Foolish children!
You could be arrested for hoarding inflammatory propaganda like this.
Leaflets like these are being sent into the colony by secret agents of
the French Jacobins in Philadelphia who are trying to incite rebellion
here to serve their own ends. Where on earth did you get such
literature?"
But despite what Monique termed an "Inquisition" by her
irate guardian, she steadfastly refused to say how she had come by her
private cache of rebellious material. Although Vidal was fairly
positive that it had been given to her by Maurice Foucher, he couldn't
get her to admit it.
"Frankly, I'm at a loss to know what to do about your
granddaughters, especially Monique," he confessed later to Grandmother
Chausson. "Given a little time, I could probably handle Celeste, but
Monica is another story. She seems so dead set against me. No matter
what I say or do, she takes offense to it or goes deliberately contrary
to my wishes, even to her own detriment, just to spite me."
"I'd hoped to win her over little by little, but I'm
beginning to see now just how deep-seated her resentment against me
really is, and sometimes I wonder whether I'll ever be able to surmount
it."
"I know it's difficult for you, Miguel," agreed Aimee
Chausson with a sigh, "but please try to be patient with the girl. Her
mother was a good, pious woman, but she was obsessed with her hatred
for the Spaniards. That mercenary O'Reilly really did cause a
tremendous amount of ill feeling here toward the Spanish when he took
over the colony. He used trickery to capture the French rebels, and
once they fell into his hands, instead of being generous and perhaps
winning over the populace by being lenient with their misguided
patriots, O'Reilly executed six of them and imprisoned the others. At
least Monique's grandfather wasn't one of those who was shot, but he
might as well have been, for he returned from the dungeons of Havana a
broken man and died only a few weeks after his release. Eugenie, my
son's wife, adored her father, and it made a lasting impression on her.
She never forgave the Spaniards and never let the girls forget what
their grandfather had suffered, either. They grew up hearing the story
over and over again, and every tale of Spanish cruelty was repeated to
them."
"Monique, being older than Celeste, understood and
remembered better what her mother said than her sister did, and
sometimes the poor child used to wake up crying in the middle of the
night after Eugenie had been exaggeratedly vivid about some gory
detail. But no matter how I begged my daughter-in-law to stop
frightening the children like that, she was too obsessed with the
subject to let it rest."
"Of course, after Eugenie died and the girls grew older,
they didn't seem to think much about those old tales anymore, but I
guess the resentment was always there, although I confess I never
suspected how deep-rooted it was with Monique until now. But give her
time, Miguel. Frankly, I suspect that much of her hostility simply
stems from the fact that you're pulling the reins in more tightly on
her. Unfortunately, she's been spoiled and is headstrong—
accustomed to saying and doing as she pleases—so I'm afraid
she would resist anyone who tried to discipline her, although the fact
that you happen to be a Spaniard has probably resurrected some of those
old childhood memories that her mother seeded in her. But believe me,
Miguel, Monique is basically a good-hearted girl. I'm sure she'll come
around. You'll see."
Vidal was pensive. He wanted so much to believe that Aimee
Chausson was right.
"God knows I hope it'll be as you say," he replied. "But
if you could have seen her the other night singing that revolutionary
song in the theater! She was so carried away."
Grandmother Chausson smiled and shook her white-capped
head. "I can well imagine," she agreed. "Monique has a tendency to be
overly romantic sometimes. This unpopular war between Spain and France
has awakened all the girl's patriotism. Despite Spanish rule here,
Monique is typical of the way most of the people of New Orleans feel.
She still considers herself French and has deluded herself into
thinking that France can do no wrong. The girl doesn't realize, of
course, that if we were living in that unfortunate country right now,
we'd be going to the guillotine ourselves!" She shook her head. "Our
young people are so easily inflamed. Take Monique's friend Maurice.
He's not really a bad boy. I'm sure he's fired by the noblest of
sentiments, but he's being influenced by those Jacobin agents who have
been filtering into town. I'd hate to see the boy get in trouble."
"Rest easy," Vidal assured her. "I mean the boy no harm,
but I do intend to remove Monique from his questionable influence. If
you permit me to make a suggestion, I think it might be advisable to
take up summer residence at the plantation a little early this year."
Aimee Chausson sighed resignedly. "I really prefer living
in the town house," she confessed, "but if it's best for the girls,
I'll go, of course."
"I really think it might be wiser, especially where
Monique is concerned," he assured her. "A change of scene for a while,
away from the temptations and unrest of the city, might do her some
good. By the time September comes and you're ready to return to New
Orleans for the social season, she may see things in an entirely
different light. Monique is at a transitory age right now… a
period where a few months could make a great deal of difference."
When
the plans to take up immediate residence at the Chausson
plantation were announced, Vidal's wards received the news with more
protests. Monique, already smarting from the episode of the confiscated
leaflets, was especially furious over what she called her guardian's
"arbitrary manipulating of her life" and became more petulant than
ever. The fact that Miguel showed her an article in the
Moniteur
that the governor was threatening to close the theater if the
performances continued to be so disorderly didn't seem to impress her,
nor did she feel especially eager to obey when Vidal asked her to leave
her packing for a moment to have a few words with him.
He began with a conciliatory approach.
"Monica…" he said cautiously, but when he saw
the way she immediately glared at him, he quickly corrected himself.
"Monique, I've been wanting to tell you how much I truly regret having
had to order your room searched. I can understand you resented having
Mlle. Baudier go through your things that way, and I'm truly sorry it
was necessary."
"You had no right to invade my privacy," she reproached
him, her fleshy little lips in more of a pout than ever.
"It wouldn't have been necessary if you'd have been more
cooperative," he reminded her. "All considered, it was far better that
it was someone like me or your governess who searched your room than an
officer of the law. Don't you realize that those leaflets are
treasonable, inciting rebellion against the Spanish Crown? You should
tell that foolish Foucher boy to watch his step, or he'll find himself
in a pack of trouble one of these days."
"I didn't say Maurice gave them to me," she immediately
protested. "I found them on the street."