“Yes.”
“To give you an idea of the amount of treasure involved, an inventory was made at the time. It ran to something like fifty pages.”
“That much?”
Francillon nodded. “The Bourbons had what was probably the largest collection of jewels in Europe. All together, they were valued at more than twenty-four million livres; the French Blue alone was estimated to be worth three million livres.”
“So what did the revolutionary government do with them?”
“The Crown Jewels were declared the property of the people and placed under guard in the H?tel du Garde-Meuble on the Place Louis XV—what later became the Place de la Révolution.” He paused, a spasm crossing his face. The Place de la Révolution had become famous as the site of the guillotine.
“Go on,” said Sebastian.
“The jewels were then put on display. The thinking was that since they belonged to the people, the people ought to be allowed to see them. So every Monday, the h?tel was opened to the public. The jewels remained on display for over a year, until August of 1792, when a decision was made to close the exhibit due to the growing instability in Paris.”
“But they were still kept in the Garde-Meuble?”
“Oh, yes. In locked cabinets in a chamber located just above the ground-floor entrance. The chief conservator responsible for the treasures complained constantly that he needed more guards, but . . .” Francillon shrugged. “It was September of 1792; the entire nation was falling apart.”
“So at the time of the theft,” said Sebastian, “the exhibition was closed?”
“It was. But before the visits were suspended, a man named Paul Miette had gone to the Garde-Meuble every Monday for weeks, studying the habits of the guards, the various approaches to the treasure room. There is some evidence he also managed to acquire inside information about the habits of the guards, but that was never proven.”
“So what happened?”
Francillon pulled at his earlobe. “On the night of 11 September, Miette and some half a dozen of his cohorts simply propped a ladder against the wall at the front of the building, cut a hole in an upstairs window, and climbed inside. There was so much to steal that they couldn’t carry it all away with them. But when they realized the theft had not been noticed, they came back two nights later, and again two nights after that. By their fourth visit, they’d become so bold that they turned the theft into a drunken revelry, complete with whores, food, and wine. Everything from jeweled swords to statues to bells was simply tossed out the windows to friends waiting in the street below.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Sebastian.
Francillon sighed. “I wish I were not. They were finally spotted by an officer of the National Guard, who sounded the alarm. But it took him so long to convince the building’s watchmen to open the chamber’s doors—which were, of course, still sealed—that the thieves managed to escape.”
“You’re saying none of them were caught?”
“One or two who were too drunk or too stupid to run were taken up at the scene; a few more were arrested later. But none of the actual ringleaders were ever apprehended. In the end, several men were executed. A few were given short prison sentences and then quickly pardoned.”
“That sounds rather suspicious.”
“It does, does it not?” Francillon cleared his throat. “At the time, the public was naturally outraged by the theft of the nation’s treasure. Some tried to place the blame for the theft on the Queen, Marie Antoinette—which was ridiculous, given that she was under guard herself at the time. Others thought it was a counterrevolutionary plot to destroy the Revolution by stealing France’s wealth. But there were those who suspected that forces within the revolutionary government itself had been responsible. You see, the Minister of the Interior had actually suggested back in August that the Crown Jewels be sold and the proceeds used to support the Revolution’s paper currency and defray other expenses—in particular the looming war with Austria and Prussia. But there was such an outcry that the scheme was abandoned.”
“At least publicly,” said Sebastian.
Francillon met his gaze, his expression solemn. “Exactly.” His eyes slid away. “One interesting point is that the thief who is credited with devising the scheme in the first place—Paul Miette—was actually imprisoned in La Force until shortly before the theft, as were nearly a dozen of his colleagues. There have been suggestions that their release was arranged by men within the government.”
“You say Miette was never captured?”
“Never. He simply disappeared. Some of the smaller stones were recovered in Paris in the days and weeks following the theft. But the major pieces—the French Blue, the Bazu, and many, many others—have never been seen again.”