He slept that night at Amiens, and found the situation there typical of what he had heard reported of the other great cities in France. There had been many disturbances and the old municipal authorities had been overthrown; the most vigorous among the Electors had taken the running of the city on themselves and a local copy of the Parisian National Guard was now keeping the rougher elements in check.
Next morning, on riding through a village, he passed a meeting of yokels who were being brought up to a pitch of angry excitement by an agitator; but he took scant notice of them. However, on seeing a similar scene a few miles farther on, he began to wonder what was afoot. At Abbeville, where he meant to take his midday dinner, he realized that fresh trouble of a very serious nature had broken out.
The town was in an uproar. Armed bands were marching through the streets. In the square the National Guard had been drawn up, but apparently had no intention of interfering with the rioters. From three directions Roger could see columns of smoke swirling above the rooftops, so it looked as if the mobs were already burning the houses of people known to be opposed to the new reign of liberty.
His enquiries elicited the most fantastic rumours. "The Queen had conspired with the nobles throughout the country to kidnap and kill the people's leaders. The royal troops had marched on Paris two days before and were now systematically levelling it to the ground. The Swiss Guards had been sent to massacre the National Assembly. The Comte d'Artois had gone to Germany for the purpose of raising an army there, and he had crossed the Rhine with 100,000 men to conquer France and re-enslave the people."
In vain Roger assured his informants that there was not one atom of truth in their wild stories; they would not believe him, and said that couriers had arrived from Paris the previous night bearing this terrible news. When he said that he had left Paris himself only the day before, they began to suspect that he was an agent of the Queen sent to lull them into a false sense of security.
Suddenly realizing that he had placed himself in imminent danger he admitted that all these things might have occurred after he had left; then, seeing that there was nothing he could do, he got out of the town as quickly as he could.
A few miles beyond it, he saw a chateau, some half mile from the road, roaring up in flames, and a little farther on a gibbet with a well-dressed man hanging from it and a crowd of villagers dancing round their victim in a circle. It was now clear that the whole countryside had risen and was exacting a centuries-old vengeance on its seigneurs for their past oppressions.
During the afternoon he saw several other burning chateaux in the distance and passed many bands of peasants armed with scythes, pitchforks and old muskets. As far as he could he avoided them by cantering his horse across the fields, and when he had to reply to shouted questions he made it clear that he was an Englishman, speaking only a little bad French.
He was much relieved to reach Calais in safety, but found that, too, in a state of panic and wild disorder, with the same fantastic rumours flying about. Hungry as he now was he rode straight down to the quay, only to find that the packet-boat sailing that night was already crammed with well-dressed people flying from the Terror. But, luckily for him, the ship was an English one, and after two hours' wait among a crowd of several hundred would-be passengers who could not be taken, he managed to get hold of one of the ship's officers. Gold would not have done the trick, as it was being offered by the handful, but his nationality secured him three square feet of deck; and the following morning he landed at Dover.
Although he did not realize it at the time, he had witnessed the beginning of the "Great Fear", as it afterwards came to be known; for not only had the peasantry of the Pas de Calais risen on that and the following days; they had done so throughout the whole of France.
The fall of the Bastille on July 14th had unexpectedly precipitated the complete surrender of the King three days later. The Monarch's new-won popularity had upset the calculations of those who were conspiring to force his abdication. Like Roger they had come to the conclusion that the political revolution having been accomplished the country would now settle down; unless steps to create further anarchy were taken. Since they had little more to hope for in that direction from Paris they had turned their attention to the provinces.
On July 28th hundreds of couriers had been despatched in secret to all parts of France with instructions to disseminate false news of such an alarming nature that the whole country would be set ablaze. The fact that the risings took place simultaneously in every part of the Kingdom proved beyond question that this terrible nation-wide outrage was the result of deliberate organization. Moreover, the general acceptance of these baseless and improbable rumours in every city and town could not possibly have been brought about by the work of a single courier arriving in each. So everyone who knew anything of the inner forces animating the political situation had little doubt that the "Great Fear" was the work of the unscrupulous Due d'Orleans, operating through the vast spider's web of Masonic Lodges that he controlled.
Its results were beyond belief appalling. Terrified that the hated Queen and arrogant nobles were about to wrest their newly won liberties from them, a madness seized upon the people. In the course of a few days hundreds of chateaux, great and small, were burnt. Thousands of gentry, their womenfolk and even little children, were murdered, in many cases being slowly tortured to death with the most hideous brutality. Many of these petit seigneurs had been bad landlords, but the great majority had already imbibed the new Liberal doctrines, were eager for a Constitution, and anxious to do what they could to improve the lot of their peasantry. Tens of thousands succeeded in escaping abroad, some with such few valuables as they had been able to collect in the haste of a flight for life, but most of the exiles arrived near penniless, so were compelled to live for many years in poverty. Thus in the course of one summer week France was decimated.
Roger had been so absorbed by his own affairs that it had not occurred to him that the London season would be over, but on his arrival he found the West End deserted and Amesbury House closed down, except for the skeleton staff always kept there. Droopy Ned had left a week before and was at his father's seat, Normanrood, in Wiltshire.
Finding his best friend absent was a sad blow to Roger, as his broken romance with Isabella still weighed heavily upon him and he badly wanted to unburden his heart to someone. So far he had said not a word of it to a soul and it gnawed at him so unremittingly that he had come to believe it would always do so until he could ease his pain by talking freely about her. But there were only two people to whom he would have been willing to do that, Droopy and his dear Georgina; and a letter awaiting him at Amesbury House informed him that the beautiful Lady Etheredge was now upon the Rhine.
In her bold, vigorous scrawl she wrote glowingly of Vienna; telling of balls and receptions at the Hofberg, drives in the Prater, picnics on the Kobentzel, and midnight water parties on the Danube; she declared Viennese music the most haunting, and Viennese society the most gallant, in all Europe. The Emperor Joseph's illness had caused some concern, as had also the unrest in his dominions brought about by the resentment of his subject peoples at the reforms he had endeavoured to force upon them. But his health had recently improved and it was still hoped that a settlement might be reached in both Brabant and Hungary without further bloodshed. Such matters had, however, in no way interfered with her own enjoyment, and she could have become an Austrian Countess six times over, had she had a mind to it.