Part 22

In March 1790, the Comte d’Antraigues openly accused of apostacy, denounced by the revolutionary Press to public vengeance, and the recipient, every day, of violent anonymous letters threatening assassination, deemed it prudent to quit France. On April 3, Madame Saint-Huberty obtained a passport to Geneva and, accompanied by her _femme de chambre_ and two men-servants, set out for Switzerland, where she joined the count in the environs of Lausanne.

The two lovers remained for nearly three months at Lausanne, and then removed to a château, near Mindrisio, belonging to the Count Turconi, and here, on December 29, they were secretly married in the neighbouring church of Saint-Eusèbe.

For grave reasons known to himself, the Bishop of Como, in whose diocese the marriage took place, had granted to the officiating priest permission to perform the ceremony without inquiries or proofs, at whatever date, hour, or place the parties might select.

The day after the marriage, the count addressed to his wife the following letter:

“I may die, my dear wife, and cannot acquit myself too soon of the most sacred of duties.

“It is possible that there may be wanting to our union some of the formalities, which, according to the law of France, are required for the legalisation of marriages, and imperious circumstances may prevent me from fulfilling them for some time to come.

“If I happen to die before that time, I wish you to render to my memory the honour which you owe it, by rendering to yourself that which is due to you.

“I declare then that, after seven years of mutual confidence, I have united by marriage to my destiny the woman who has had the courage to wish to share my misfortunes; that, on December 29, 1790, after having obtained from the Bishop of Como a dispensation for the publication of banns, and permission for us to marry at any time and place that might please us, I married you in the Château of Castel San-Pietro, in the presence of two priests as witnesses.

“With several reasons for keeping this marriage secret, I did not conceal from you the most imperative of all: the grief it would cause my worthy and venerable mother. But I knew her; if she had only tears to give to my memory, she would forgive our secret union, and would see only the wife of her son in the woman who watched over his destinies, who softened their rigour, and who received the last sighs of his heart.”

* * * * *

Towards the end of the following year, the Comtesse d’Antraigues became _enceinte_. The marriage having been kept secret, the count was anxious that the birth of the child should not be known in the neighbourhood; and it was at a little village on the outskirts of Milan that, on June 26, 1792, the ex-singer presented him with a son, baptized two days later, under the names of Pierre Antoine Emmanuel Jules, born of the illustrious Emmanuel Louis Alexandre Henri de Launai, Comte d’Antraigues and of the dame Antoinette Clavel. So soon as the countess was sufficiently recovered to travel, she, with her husband and infant son, returned to Mindrisio.

From this quiet corner of Italian Switzerland, where he lived with the former queen of the Opera, the Comte d’Antraigues combated the men and things of the new France, in a series of very able brochures, wherein he constituted himself the speaking-trumpet of the counter-Revolution. But he was very far from being content with this warfare of the pen. He became the devoted servant of the Bourbons, the intermediary between them and the Courts of St. James’s, Madrid, Berlin, and Vienna, and rendered material assistance in weaving that network of secret intrigue, which, in spite of the successes of the French armies, for long rendered doubtful the establishment of the new order of things.[211]

In discharge of these diplomatic missions, he travelled incessantly, accompanied everywhere by his wife, who shared his fatigues and dangers, and received, in return, his full confidence. The count and countess were at Venice, in May 1795, when the city was occupied by the French troops. The count, who was at the time specially attached to the Russian legation, left with the Minister and his suite, accompanied by his wife and child; but at Trieste the party was stopped by orders of Bernadotte, who commanded the French there, and d’Antraigues arrested.

On being told that he was to be sent to Milan, the count begged the Russian Minister to take charge of Madame Saint-Huberty--for by that name she was still known--but the ex-singer insisted on sharing his captivity.

Touched by so much devotion, d’Antraigues explained to his captors that the lady was his lawful wife, and obtained permission for her to accompany him to Milan. “I declared at once to my tyrants,” he says, “that I was married, that I had a son, and that I desired to see him. They acceded to my request. She came, with that dear child of five years old, who threw himself upon me. That moment, which made her mine for ever, caused me to forget my foes, my persecutors, the future and the present. I owe that to my persecutors. To say how much I was indebted to my wife in these frightful circumstances is beyond my power. Never did there exist a courage more firm, a soul more mistress of itself, a character stronger in adversity; never did one behold more self-confidence in misfortune.”

At Milan, the count was at first imprisoned in a convent, where prisoners of war were confined, but, soon afterwards, taken to the citadel, and there placed in a dungeon, twelve feet long by six broad. Thanks, however, to the urgent representations of his wife, he was, some weeks later, liberated on parole, the understanding being that he was not to leave the city or even change his residence. But, in the early hours of the morning of August 25, he broke his parole and escaped, his flight, thanks to the ingenuity of his wife, who gave out that he was ill in bed, and went about the house preparing broth and other remedies, not being discovered till some days later.

It has been suggested that, for reasons of their own, the French authorities at Milan connived at the count’s escape; but it seems more probable that he fled through fear of being sent to Paris, where he would certainly have been brought to trial and very possibly executed. Such was undoubtedly the opinion in Royalist circles, and, to recognise the countess’s courage and devotion and her services to the “cause,” the Comte de Provence, in his theoretical character of King of France, sent her the order of Saint-Michel.[212]

Successively we find the adventurous couple at Vienna, Berlin, and Dresden, in which last-named city they seemed to have passed the greater part of the year 1804, the whole of the year 1805, and the first months of the year 1806, the count, who had been nominated a Counsellor of State by the Emperor Alexander of Russia, corresponding with Sweden, through Alopeus, the Swedish Minister in London, and working generally to bring about a European coalition against Napoleon. In September 1806, driven from Dresden by Napoleon’s victories, and unable to find an asylum on the Continent, they quitted Germany and established themselves in England. Here they resided in a pretty cottage at Barnes, and lived in good style on the various pensions which they had received. The count lost no time in entering into negotiations with the English Government, to whom he is said to have communicated the articles, real or imaginary, of the Treaty of Tilsit, though how he contrived to obtain particulars of a treaty drawn up with so much privacy is somewhat difficult to understand.

However, that may be, it is certain that d’Antraigues was employed by the Foreign Office in certain delicate negotiations and that he received a pension in return for his services; and it was this which, according to a legend which still finds acceptance with some French writers, brought about the tragic end of both himself and his wife, on the morning of July 22, 1812.

The story went that Fouché, desirous of discovering what was going on between d’Antraigues and the English Government, despatched two trusted agents to London, with orders at all costs to intercept the correspondence. The agents succeeded in bribing the count’s Piedmontese servant Lorenzo, to tamper with the letters which passed between his master and the Foreign Office; and that this man, finding that his treachery was certain to be discovered, through a visit which the count was on the point of making to Canning, in a moment of frenzied despair, assassinated both his master and mistress, and then took his own life. From the evidence given at the inquest, however, it would appear that Lorenzo committed the crime, in a fit of frenzy, due simply to his having received notice to leave the count’s service.

The _Times_ of July 23, 1812, contained the following account of the tragedy:

“The Count and Countess d’Antraigues, French noblesse, and distantly related to the unfortunate family of the Bourbons, resided on Barnes Terrace, on the banks of the Thames. They lived in a style which, though far from what they had formerly moved in, yet was rather bordering on high life than the contrary. They kept a carriage, coachman, footman, and a servant out of livery. The latter was an Italian or Piedmontese, named Lawrence, and it is of this wretch that we have to relate the following particulars. The Count and Countess, intending to visit London as yesterday, ordered the carriage to be at the door by eight in the morning, which it accordingly was; and, soon after that hour, they were in the act of leaving the house to get into it, the Countess being at the door, the Count coming downstairs, when the report of a pistol was heard in the passage, which, it has since appeared, took no effect, nor was it then ascertained by whom it was fired. Lawrence was at the time in the passage, and, on the smoke subsiding, was seen to rush past the Count and proceed with great speed upstairs. He almost immediately returned, with a dirk in his hand, and plunged it up to the hilt into the Count’s left shoulder; he continued his course and made for the street door, where stood the Countess, whom he instantly despatched by plunging the same dirk into her left breast. This last act had scarcely been completed when the Count appeared also at the door, bleeding, and following the assassin, who made for the house and ran upstairs. The Count, though extremely weak and faint, continued to follow him; but so great was the terror occasioned that no one else had the same resolution. The assassin and the Count had not been upstairs more than a minute when the report of another pistol was heard, which satisfied those below that Lawrence had finally put an end to the existence of his master. The alarm was now given, and the cry of ‘Murder, murder!’ resounded from every mouth. The Countess was still lying at the front door, by which the turnpike road runs, and at length men of sufficient resolution were found to venture upstairs, and, horrible to relate, they found the Count lying across his own bed, groaning heavily and nearly dead, and the bloodthirsty villain lying by his side a corpse. He had put a period to his own existence by placing a pistol that he found in the room in his mouth and discharging its contents through his head. The Count only survived about twenty-five minutes after the fatal blow, and died without being able to utter a single word.

“The Countess had by this time been brought into the house; the wound was directly on her left breast, extremely large, and she died without uttering a single word. The servants of the house were all collected last night; but no cause for so horrid an act was at that time known; all was but conjecture.

“The following circumstance, in so extraordinary a case, may be, however worth while relating. The Count it appears, always kept a brace of pistols loaded in his bedroom, and a small dirk. About a month ago the Countess and the servants heard the report of a pistol upstairs, and were, in consequence, greatly alarmed; when one of the latter, a female, went upstairs and looked into her mistress’s room, it was full of smoke and she screamed out. On its clearing away, she saw Lawrence standing, who told her nothing was the matter: he had only fired one of his master’s pistols. It afterwards appeared that he had fired into the wainscot; it was loaded with ball, and the ball from the pistol is yet to be seen.

“The Count and Countess were about sixty years of age. The latter was highly accomplished, a great proficient in music, and greatly admired for her singing in fashionable parties. There is no reason whatever to believe that Lawrence was insane. Only about ten minutes previous to his committing this deed of blood, he went over to an adjoining public-house and took a glass of gin. He had lived only three months in the family, and, report says, was to be discharged in a few days.

“The Count and Countess had resided in Barnes for four or five years, and have left an only son, who, we understand, is at present in this country, studying the law.

“Besides his house on Barnes Terrace, Count d’Antraigues had a town establishment, No. 7 Queen Anne Street, W. He was fifty-six, and the Countess fifty-three years of age. The Count had eminently distinguished himself in the troubles which have convulsed Europe for the past twenty-two years. In 1789, he was actively engaged in favour of the Resolution, but during the tyranny of Robespierre he emigrated to Germany, and was employed in the service of Russia. At Venice, in 1797, he was arrested by Bernadotte, who pretended to have discovered in his portfolio all the particulars of the plot upon which the 18th Fructidor was founded. The Count made his escape from Milan, where he was confined, and was afterwards employed in the diplomatic mission of Russia at the Court of Dresden. In 1806 he was sent to England, with credentials from the Emperor of Russia, who had granted him a pension, and placed great dependence upon his services. He received here letters of denization, and was often employed by the Government. The Countess was the once celebrated Madame Saint-Huberty, an actress at the Théâtre-Français.[213] She had amassed a very large fortune by her professional talents.”[214]

And the same impression of the _Times_ contained this other account:

“The Count d’Antraigues, a very eminent political character, formerly a deputy of the nobility of Vivarais to the States-General, author of many eloquent tracts, who had married the celebrated singer and actress of the Royal Academy of Music at Paris, Madame Saint-Huberty, was murdered yesterday morning at seven o’clock, along with his lady, in their summer residence on Barnes Terrace, by one of their servants named Lorenzo, a Piedmontese, aged twenty-five years, who had been only a few months in their service, and whom they had no reason to suspect of such a diabolical design.

“Both the Count and Countess d’Antraigues were preparing to come to town, as they usually did every Wednesday. The Count had an appointment (as we understand) with his particular friend Mr. Canning, to meet him at ten o’clock, and had actually taken his papers in his hat and proceeded down the staircase from his bedroom, his lady, who went before, being at the door waiting, and calling for the servant to open the carriage. Lorenzo at that moment took from the bed of his master a pistol and a most superb Turkish poignard, which the Count d’Antraigues had brought with him from Constantinople. He discharged the pistol at his master, at six paces distance, on the staircase, and missed him, the ball passing between the Count and Countess.

“The murderer, seeing that the ball had not taken effect, took to the poignard, and stabbed his master in the shoulder. Though the blow was mortal, the Count had still strength to walk to his room. The servant then ran to the Countess, who was shrieking, and plunged, in the most audacious manner, the poignard into her breast. She fell, and died instantly, without any groans, saying only, ‘Lorenzo! Lorenzo!’

“It appears that the Count died, as soon as he re-entered his room, from an effusion of blood in his chest. The murderer, bewildered and frantic after his ferocious deed, came to the room where his master was lying, and, seizing on another of the four pistols which the Count kept constantly for his protection at his bedside, with the poignard, under the presentiment that one day or other his life would be attempted, discharged the contents into his mouth, and shattered his head in the most fearful manner. He died on the spot, and fell dead by the side of his master.[215]

“The alarm was given by the coachman, who was standing at the door, and the other servants. Two professional men came instantly, but no assistance could prevail. The house was besmeared with blood, and presented a most shocking spectacle, the three bodies being extended in such a small space. The coachman drove to town to fetch the doctor and the lawyer who was generally employed by the Count, and to convey the melancholy tidings to the house of the deceased in Queen Anne Street, W., where a great crowd of people were collected during the whole of the day. Dr. Chavernac of Gerrard Street, the surgeon, and Mr. Trickey, the solicitor, both the intimate friends of the deceased, went post-haste to Barnes Terrace. The papers, jewels, and other effects of the Count and Countess were put under seal in their presence, and in that of a magistrate and several respectable neighbours. A coroner’s inquest is to take place this day at Barnes on the three bodies.

“No cause is yet known for the atrocious act which has deprived of life two persons, who, by their talents, knowledge, amiable manners, and powerful connections, ranked very high in society. The Count was a man of colossal stature and imposing countenance, only fifty-eight years of age, and his lady fifty-two.

“Mr. Vansittart, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the particular friend of the Count, was informed of the lamentable event early yesterday, and Lord Sidmouth commissioned Mr. Brooks of the Alien Office to take, conjointly with the Count La Châtre, Commissary of his Majesty Louis XVIII., the proper measures to secure the papers and property of the deceased, who had been formerly Commissary of his Most Christian Majesty in Italy, and till his death an agent and correspondent of the Emperor of Russia.”

REPORT OF THE INQUEST.

(From the _Times_, July 24, 1812.)

“An inquest was held yesterday at the ‘White Hart,’ Barnes Terrace, before Charles Jemmett, Esq., Coroner for the County, after a view of the bodies of the Count and Countess d’Antraigues, and of Lawrence, who murdered them.

“Susannah Black, the first witness, deposed that, on July 22nd inst., she was ordered by the Countess, about eight o’clock in the morning, to take some books, &c., to the carriage door; that she followed the Countess to the door, and saw Lawrence near the carriage with his face to the door, and ordered him to open the carriage door for his mistress, instead of which he walked into the house, and as he passed her mistress a pistol was fired, but she did not know who discharged it. She saw the Count on the stairs, and Lawrence going up the stairs. Did not see anything in his hand. She afterwards saw Lawrence coming downstairs with a pistol in his right hand, and his left hand behind him, but could not see whether he had anything in it or not; that she ran into the garden alarmed; and that, on her return into the house by the hall, she went to the front door and saw her mistress lying on the ground, in the footpath of the street, near the carriage. She called for assistance, and another servant and the coachman, David Hebditch, came to her, and they took the Countess into the house. There was a great deal of blood about her, and she was alive, though speechless. Mr. Ball, a surgeon, was sent for, who attended immediately. But her mistress died in a few minutes after the same. Witness stated that one day, about three weeks ago, when the Count was absent, she was with the Countess in her bedroom, when they heard a loud report, and she ran downstairs, thinking it was a rap at the door. But finding no one there, she called ‘Lawrence,’ but no one answered. She then returned upstairs. The Countess met her at the door of the bedroom, and said it was the report of a pistol. Witness ran upstairs to the Count’s room, and on coming to the door, she saw some smoke issue from it, and saw Lawrence in the room. She asked him what he was doing and he answered, ‘Nothing.’ She then went to her mistress, and told her Lawrence had fired off a pistol. The Countess went upstairs, and witness followed her, and heard her talk to Lawrence very coolly, but could not tell what she said, as she spoke French or Italian; but the Countess told her afterwards that he said he had been handling the pistol and it went off. When Lawrence came to the kitchen, she asked him how he dared to meddle with his master’s pistols in his absence, and he answered it went off by chance as he was handling it. She never knew of any quarrel or anger between the Count and Lawrence. Said Lawrence was a sober man, but latterly had been more passionate than before. Yesterday morning, the wind having blown the parlour door to with a great noise, the Count spoke rather sharply to Lawrence, thinking he banged it, and would wake his mistress. Lawrence had lived in the family about three months. Believed the dagger produced to be her master’s, having many times seen it hanging in his room.

“Elizabeth Ashton, another servant of the Count and Countess, deposed that when the Countess came first downstairs, she was standing at the street door to wait on her mistress. The carriage was at the door. Her mistress passed her and went towards the carriage--the Count was coming downstairs. Witness heard the report of a pistol, was stunned by it, said she was a dead woman, turned round and said, ‘Lawrence! Lawrence!’ When, looking up, she saw Lawrence coming downstairs, with a pistol in one hand, and a dagger in the other. She screamed out, and ran into the street, crying ‘Murder murder!’ went over to the public-house to give the alarm and, on her return, found her mistress lying on the footpath of the street near the carriage, and, being so affected that she found she could not give any assistance, she went away.