Taking the Bastile (19 page)

THE BASTILLE AND ITS GOVERNOR 113

his emaciated appearance; ‘I mistrust yon I and for what reason, pray? If it were my will, upon a word, a sign given by me, I could have you pounded like glass, even were you sheltered by those formidable towers which to morrow will no longer exist were you protected by these soldiers, who this evening will have espoused our party or will have ceased to exist. Go, then, and rely on Gonchon as he relies on Billot.’

Billot was convinced, and walked towards the entrance of the Bastille, while the strange person with whom he had been conversing darted down the faubourg, amid shouts, repeated a thousand times, of ‘Long live Gonchon I long live the Mirabeau of the people 1’

WE will not describe the Bastille it would be useless. It lives as an eternal image, both in the memory of tiva old and in the imagination of the young. We shall content ourselves with merely stating, that, seen from the Boulevard, it presented, in front of the square then called Place de la Bastille, two twin towers, while its two fronts ran parallel with the banks of the canal which now exists. The entrance to the Bastille was defended, in the first place, by a guardhouse, then by two lines of sentinels, and besides these by two drawbridges. After having passed through these several obstacles, you came to the courtyard of the residence of the governor. From this courtyard a gallery led to the ditches of the Bastille. At this other entrance, which opened upon the ditches, was a drawbridge, a guardhouse, and an iron gate. At the first entrance they wished to stop Billot; but Billot shows the passport he received from Flesselles, and they allow him to pass on. Billot then perceives that Pitou is following him. Pitou had no permission; but he would have followed the farmer’s steps down to the infernal regions, or would have ascended to the moon.

‘Remain outside,’ said Billot. ‘Should I not come our again, it would be well there should be some one to remind the people that I have come in,’

‘That is perfectly right,’ said Pitou. ‘How long ant I to wait before I remind them oi it?’

1 24 TAKING THE BASTILLE

‘One hoar.

‘And the casket?’ inquired Pitou.

‘Ah, you remind me 1 Well, then, should I not get out again; should Gonchon not take the Bastille; or, in short, if, after having taken it, I should not be found, you must tell Dr Gilbert, whom they will find perhaps, that men who came from Paris took from me the casket which he confided to my care five years ago; that I, on the instant, started off to inform him of what had happened; that, on arriving at Paris, I was informed that he was in the Bastille; that I attempted to take the Bastille, and that in the attempt I left my skin there, which was altogether at his service.’

“Tis well, Father Billot,’ said Pitou; ‘only ‘tis rather a long story, and I am afraid I may forget it.’

‘I will repeat it to you, then.’

‘Mo,’ said a voice close to Billot’s ear; ‘it would be better to write it.’

‘I do not know how to write,’ said Billot.

‘I do. I am an usher. Stanislaus Maillard, usher in the Court of the Chatelet.’

And he drew from his pocket a long ink-horn, in which there were pens, paper, and ink; in fine, all that was necessary for writing. He was a man about forty-five years old, tall, thin, and grave-looking, dressed entirely m black, as became his profession.

‘You say,’ inquired the usher, with great calmness, ‘that men who came from Paris carried off a casket which Dr Gilbert confided to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is a punishable crime.’

‘These men belonged to the police of Paris.’

‘Infamous robbers I’ muttered Maillard.

Then, handing the paper to Pitou : ‘Here, take this, young man,’ said he; ‘it is the memorandum you require; and should he be killed’ he pointed to Billot ‘should you be killed, it is to be hoped that I shall not be killed too.’

‘And should you not be killed, what would you do?’ asked Pitou.

‘I would do that which you were to have done,’ replied Maillard.

‘Thanks,’ said Billot. And he held out his hand to the usher The usher grasped k with a vigour which could not have been anticipated from his lank, meagre body.

THE BASTILLE AND ITS GOVERNOR 125

‘Then I may fully depend upon you?’ said Billot.

‘As on Marat as on Gonchon.’

‘Good,’ said Pitou; ‘they form a trinity which I am sure I shall not find in paradise.’ Then, going up to Billot : ‘Tell me, Father Billot, you will be prudent, will you not?’

‘Pitou,’ replied the farmer, with an eloquence which sometimes astonished people, when proceeding from one who had always led a country life, ‘forget not what I now say to you, that the most prudent line of conduct now in France is to be courageous.’

And he passed the first line of sentinels, while Pitou returned towards the square. At the drawbridge he was again obliged to parley. Billot showed his passport; the drawbridge was let down; the iron-grated gate was opened. Close beside the gate stood the governor. This interior court, in which the governor was waiting for Billot, was the courtyard which served as a promenade to the prisoners. It was guarded by eight towers. No window opened into it. Never did the sun shine on its pavement, which was damp and almost muddy. It might have been thought the bottom of an immense well. In this courtyard was a clock, supported by figures representing enchained captives, which measured the hours, from which fell the regular and slow sounds of the minutes as they passed by, as in a dungeon the droppings from the ceiling eat into the pavement slabs on which they fall. At the bottom of this well, the prisoner, lost amid the abyss of stone, for a moment contemplated its cold naked-ness, aud soon asked to be allowed to return to his room..

M. de Launay was a man from forty-five to fifty years of age. On that day he was dressed in a gray coat. He wore the red ribbon of the order of St Louis; and in his hand he carried a sword-cane. This M. de Launay was a man of wicked disposition; he was almost as much detested as the prison itself. For, as it is well known, it was not the minister who appointed the officers of this jail. At the Bastille, all the places were sold to the highest bidder, from that of the governor himself, down to that of the scullion. The governor of the Bastille was a jailer on a grand scale, an eating-house keeper wearing epaulettes, who added to hia salary of sixty thousand livres sixty thousand more, which he extorted and plundered. It was highly necessary that he should recover

I2 TAKING THE BASTILLE

the capital and interest of the money he had invested. M. de Launay, in point of avarice, far surpassed his pre-decessors. This might, perhaps, have arisen from his having paid more for the place, and having foreseen that he would not remain in it so long as they did. He fed his whole house at the expense of his prisoners. He had reduced the quantity of firing, and doubled the hire of furniture in each room. He had the right of bringing yearly into Paris a hundred pipes of wine, free of duty. He sold his right to a tavern-keeper, who brought in wines of excellent quality. Then, with a tenth part of this duty, he purchased the vinegar with which he supplied his prisoners. The unhappy prisoners in the Bastille had only ont consolation; this was a small garden, which had been formed on one of the bastions. There they could walk there for a few moments they could inhale pure air, the perfumes of the flowers, and enjoy the light. He rented this little garden to a gardener, and for fifty livres a year which he received from him, he had deprived the prisoners of this last enjoyment.

Notwithstanding this, the man was courageous. From the previous evening the storm had been threatening around him, and yet he was calm, though pale. True, he had to support him four pieces of artillery, ready prepared to fire; around him, a garrison of Swiss and InvaJides; before him, only an unarmed man. For, on entering the Bastille, Billot had given Pitou his carbine to take care of. He had understood that within that iron grating which he saw before him, a weapon would be more dangerous than useful to him. Billot, at a single glance, observed all; the calm and almost threatening attitude ol the governor; the SWIM and InvaJides in the several guardhouses and on the piatlortns; and the artillerymen, who were stowing into the magazines of their ammunition-wagons their cartridges. The sentinels held their muskets at the make-ready; the officers had their swords drawn. The governor remained motionless; Billot was obliged to advance towards him; the iron-grated gate closed behind the bearer of the people’s flag of truce with a sinister noise of grating iron, which, brave as he was. made the marrow of his bones chill within him.

‘What want you with me again?’ said De Launay to him.

‘Again I’ reiterated Billot; ‘it appears to me that this

THE BASTILLE AND ITS GOVERNOR 127

Is the first time I have seen you, and, consequently, that you have yet no right to be wearied of seeing me.’

‘It is because I have been told that you come from the H6tel de Ville.’

‘That is true, I came from there.*

‘Well, then, only just now I received a deputation from the municipality.’

‘And for what purpose did it come?’

‘It came to obtain a promise from me that I would not be the first to fire.’

‘And you promised that you would not?’

‘Yes.’

‘And this was all?’

‘It also came to request that I would draw in my guns.’

‘And you did have them drawn in; I know that, for I was on the square of the Bastille when this manoeuvre was executed.’

‘And you doubtless thought that I was yielding to the threats of the people?’

‘Why, rounds I it did look very like it’

‘Did I not tell you so, gentlemen ?’ exclaimed De Launay, turning towards his officers; ‘did I not tell you that we should be thought capable of such cowardice?’ Then, turning to Billot, ‘Ana you from whom do you come?’

‘I come on behalf of the people,’ proudly replied Billot.

“Tia well,’ said De Launay, smiling; ‘but you have some other recommendation, I suppose; for with that which you set forth, you would not have been allowed to pass the first line of my sentries.’

‘Yes I have a safe-conduct from Monsieur de Flesselles, your friend.’

‘Flesselles I You say that he is my friend,’ rejoined De Launay, looking intently at Billot, as if he would have read the inmost recessses of his heart. ‘From whom do you know that Monsieur de Flesselles is my friend?’

‘Why, I supposed him to be so.’

‘Supposed I oh, that is all 1 Tis well. Let us see your safe-conduct.’

Billot presented the paper to him. De Launay read it once; then a second time; and turned and twisted it about to discover whether it did not contain some pose-script between its pages; held it up to the light, to see whether there were not some lines written between the HAM of the missive.

128 TAKING THE BASTILLE

‘And this is all he has to say to me?’

‘All.’

‘Nothing verbal?’

‘Nothing.’

“Tis very strange 1* exclaimed De Launay, darting through one of the loopholes a glance at the crowd assembled in the square before the Bastille.

‘But what would you have had him send to tell you?’ said Billot.

De Launay made an impatient gesture.

‘Oh, nothing, nothing I Come, now, tell me what you want; but speak quickly, for I am pressed for time.’

‘Well, then, what I want is, that you should surrender the Bastille to us.’

‘What said you?’ cried De Launay, quickly turning round, as if he thought he had misunderstood the farmer’s meaning. ‘You say ?’

‘I say that I have come, in the name of the people, to demand that you surrender the Bastille.’

‘And what do they want to do with the Bastille?’

‘They want to demolish it.’

‘And what the devil has the Bastille to do with the

gjople? Was ever a man of the people put into the astille? The people, on the contrary, ought to bless every stone of which the Bastille is formed. Who are they who are put into the Bastille ? Philosophers, men of science, aristocrats, ministers, princes that is to say, the enemies of the people.’

‘Well, that proves that the people are not egotists, 1 retorted Billot.

‘My friend,’ said De Launay, with a shade of commiseration in his tone, ‘it is easy to perceive that you are not a soldier.’

.You are quite right. I am a farmer.’

‘That you do not inhabit Paris.’

‘In fact, I am from the country.’

‘That you do not thoroughly know what the Bastille is.’

‘That is true. I only know what I have seen of it that is to say, the exterior walls.’

‘Well, then, come along with me, and I will show you what the Bastille is.’

‘Ho I ho 1’ muttered Billot to himself, ‘he is going to lead me over some villainous trap-door, which will suddenly open under my feet, and then, good-night. Father Billot.’

THE BASTILLE AND ITS GOVERNOR 129

But the intrepid farmer did not even blink, and showed himself ready to follow the governor of the Bastille.

‘In the first place,’ said De Launay, ‘you must know that I have powder enough in my cellars to blow up, not only the Bastille itself, but with it at least half of the Faubourg St Antoine.’

‘I know that,’ tranquilly replied Billot.

‘ Very well ; but now look at those four pieces of artillery.’

‘I see them.’

‘They enfilade the whole of this gallery, as you can also see; and this gallery is defended, nrst, by a guardhouse; secondly, by two ditches, which only can be crossed with the assistance of two drawbridges; and lastly, by a grated iron gate.’

‘Oh 1 I do not say that the Bastille is badly defended,’ calmly observed Billot; ‘all that I say is, that it will be well attacked.’

‘Let us go on,’ said De Launay. Billot gave an assenting nod.

‘Here is a postern which opens on the ditches,’ said the governor; ‘look at the thickness of the walls. Forty at the bottom, and fifteen at the top. You see that, although the people may have good nails, they would break them against these stones.’