Taking the Bastile (43 page)

282 TAKING THE BASTILLE

which saluted the departure of the king, he approached a window, to cast a last glance on the square, and to observe the conduct of his two country friends. They were both, or, at least they appeared to be, still on the best terms with the king. Suddenly, Gilbert perceived a horseman advancing rapidly along the Quay Pelletier, covered with dust, and obliging the crowd, which was still docile and respectful, to open its ranks and let him pass. The officer at last managed to reach the king’s carriage, and arrived there at the moment when a servant was closing the door of it.

‘What Iis it you, Charny?’ cried Louis XVI.

And then, in a lower tone,

‘How ar they all out yonder?’ he inquired.

Then, in a whisper,

‘The queen?’

‘Very anxious, sire,’ replied the officer, who had thrust his head completely into the carriage window.

‘Do you return to Versailles?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Well, then, tell our friends they have no cause for uneasiness. All has gone of! marvellously well.’

Charny bowed, and rode off. The king ordered that the carriage should move out at a walking pace, till it reached the Place Louis XV. There he found hia bodyguards, who were awaiting the return of the king, and not without impatience; so that this impatience, in which every one participated, kept on increasing every moment, and the horses were driven on at a pace which increased in rapidity at they advanced upon the road to Versailles. Gilbert, from the balcony of the window, had fully comprehended the meaning of the arrival of this horseman, although he did not know his person. He readily imagined the anguish which the queen must have suffered, and especially for the Last three hours, for during that time he had not been able to despatch a single courier to Versailles, amid the throng by which he was surrounded, without exciting suspicion, or betraying weakness. He had but a faint idea of all that had been occurring at Versailles. We shall now return there with our readers, for we do not wish to make them read too long a course of history.

Night had returned, bringing with it its train of fears and gloomy visions, when suddenly shouts were heard from the iront of the palace. The queen started and rose up. She was not far from a window, which she opened.

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Almost at the same instant, servants, transported with joy, ran into the queen’s room, crying, ‘A courier, madame, a courier I’

Three minutes afterwards, a hussar rushed into the ante-chamber. He was a lieutenant despatched by M. de Charny. He had rode at full speed from Sevres.

‘And the king?’ said Marie Antoinette.

‘His majesty will be here in a quarter of an hour,’ replied the officer, who was so much out of breath that he could scarcely articulate.

‘Safe and well?’ asked the queen.

‘Safe, well, and smiling, madame,’ replied the officer.

‘You have seen him, then?’

‘No, madame, but Monsieur de Charny told me so, when he sent me off.’

‘I thank you, sir; you had better rest yourself,’ said the queen to the young gentleman, who made his obeisance and withdrew.

Marie Antoinette, taking her children by the hand, went towards the grand entrance of the palace, where were already assembled all the courtiers and servants. The penetrating eye of the queen perceived, on the first step, a female form attired in white, her elbow leaning upon the stone balustrade, and looking eagerly into the darkness that she might first discern the approach of the king’s carriage. It was the Countess de Charny, whom even the

Eresence of the queen did not arouse from her fixed gaze, he, who generally was so eager to fly to the side of her mistress, evidently had not seen her, or disdained to appear to have seen her.

Just then the flambeaux of the escort appeared at the end of the avenue. These lights increased in volume every moment, from the rapidity with which the escort advanced. They could hear the neighing and the hard breathing of the horses. The ground trembled, amid the silence of the night, beneath the weight of the squadrons which surrounded and followed the king’s carriage. The gates were thrown open, the guards rushed forth to receive the king with shouts of enthusiasm. The carriage rolled sonorously over the pavement of the great courtyard. Dazzled, delighted, fascinated, strongly excited by the varied emotions she had experienced during the whole day, by those which she then felt, the queen flew down the stairs to receive the king.

284 TAKING THE BASTILLE

Louis XVI., as soon as he had alighted from his carriage, ascended the staircase with all the rapidity which was possible, surrounded as he was by his officers, all agitated by the events of the day and their triumph; while in the courtyard, the guards, mixing unceremoniously with the grooms and equerries, tore from the carriages and the harness all the cockades which the enthusiasm of the Parisians had attached to them. The king and the queen met upon a marble landing. The queen with a cry of joy and love, several times pressed the king to her heart. She sobbed as if, on thus meeting him, she had believed she was never again to see him. Yielding thus to the emotions of an overflowing heart, she did not observe the silent pressure of their hands which Charny and Andre had just exchanged. This pressure of the hand was nothing; but Andre was at the foot of the steps; she was the first Charny had seen and touched. The queen, after having presented her children to the king, made Louis XVI. kiss them, and then the dauphin, seeing in his father’s hat the new cockade, on which the torches cast an ensanguined light, exclaimed, with childish astonishment :

‘Why, papa, what have you on your cockade? Is it blood r

It was the national red. The queen uttered a cry, and examined it in her turn. The king bent down his head, under the pretence of again kissing his little daughter, but in reality to conceal his shame. Marie Antoinette, with profound disgust, tore the cockade from the hat, without seeing the noble, furious woman that she was wounding to the heart a nation that would one day know how to avenge itself.

‘Throw it away, sire,’ said she; ‘throw it away 1*

And she threw this cockade down the stairs, upon which trampled the feet of the whole escort which accompanied the king to his apartments. This strange transition had extinguished all conjugal enthusiasm in the queen’s breast. She looked around, but without apparent intention, for M. de Charny, who was standing at his ordinary post near the king, with the stiff formality of a soldier.

‘I thank you, sir,’ she said to him, when their eyes met, after several moments of hesitation on the part of the count; ‘I thank you, sir. You have well fulfilled your duty.’

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‘To whom are you speaking?’ inquired the king.

‘To Monsieur de Charny,’ said she boldly.

‘Yes, poor Charny I he had trouble enough to get near me. And Gilbert what has become of him? I do not see him,’ added Louis.

The queen called out, ‘Come in to supper,’ in order to change the conversation. ‘Monsieur de Charny,’ pursued she, ‘find the Countess de Charny, and bring her with you. We will have a family supper.’

In this she acted as a queen. But she sighed on observing that Charny, who, till then, had appeared gloomy, at once became smiling and joyful.

BILLOT was in a state of perfect ecstasy. He had taken the Bastille he had restored Gilbert to liberty; he had been noticed by Lafayette, who called him by his name; and finally, he bad seen the burial of Foulon. Few men in those days were as much execrated as Foulon. One only could m this respect have competed with him, and this was hia son-in-law, M. Berthier de Savigny. They had both of them been singularly lucky the day following the capture of the Bastille. Foulon died on that day, and Berthier had manured to escape from Paris. That which had raised to its climax the unpopularity of Foulon, was, that on the retirement of M. Necker, he had accepted the place of the virtuous Genevese, as he was then called, and had been comptroller-general during three days. And therefore was there much singing and dancing at his burial. The people had at one time thought of taking the body out of the coffin, and hanging it; but Billot had jumped upon a post, and had made a speech on the respect due to the dead, and the hearse was allowed to continue on its way.

As to Pitou, he had become a perfect hero. Pitou had become the friend of M. Elie and M. Hullin, who deigned to employ him to execute their commissions. He was, besides, the confidant of Billot of Billot, who had been treated with distinction by M. de Lafayette, as we have already said, and who sometimes employed him as a police guard about his person, on account of his brawny

286 TAKING THE BASTILLE

shoulders, his herculean fists, and his indomitable courage.

Since the journey of the king to Paris, Gilbert, who had been, through M. Necker, put in communication with the principal members of the National Assembly, and the Municipality, was incessantly occupied with the education of the republic, still in its infancy. He therefore neglected Billot and Pitou, who, neglected by him, threw themselves ardently into the meetings of the citizens, in the midst of which political discussions of transcendent interest were constantly agitated.

At length, one day, after Billot had employed three hours in giving his opinion to the electors, as to the best mode of victualling Paris, and fatigued with his long speech, though proud of having played the orator, he was resting with delight, lulled by the monotonous voices of his successors, which he took good care not to listen to, Pitou came in, greatly agitated, and gliding like an eel through the Sessions Hall of the electors in the Hdtel de Ville, and, in a palpitating tone, which contrasted greatly with the usual placidity of bis enunciation,

‘Oh, Monsieur Billot 1’ said he, ‘glorious news 1’

‘What is it, then?’

‘You know that I had gone to the club of the ” Virtues,” at the Fontainebleau barrier?’

‘Yes, and what then?’

‘Well, they spoke there of a most extraordinary event.’ ‘What was it?’

‘Do you know that that villain Foulon passed himself off for dead, and carried it so far as to allow himself to be buried?’

‘How! passed himself for dead? How say you? pretended to allow himself to be buried ? Nonsense I He is dead enough; for was I not at his funeral?’

‘Notwithstanding that, Monsieur Billot, he is still living.’

‘You are mad I’

‘Dear Monsieur Billot, I am not mad. The traitor, Foulon, the enemy of the people, the leech of France, the peculator, is not dead. I have just seen him alive.

‘You?’

‘As plainly as I now see you, Monsieur Billot. It appears that it was one of his servants who died, and the villain gave him an aristocratic funeral. Oh. all is

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discovered. It was from fear of the vengeance of the people that he acted thus.’

‘Tell me all about it, Pitou.’

‘First of all, we must know whether Monsieur Bailly is here.’

‘Go on with your story; he is here.’

‘Well, I was at the club of the ” Virtues,” listening to the speech of a patriot, when suddenly a man came hi, completely out of breath. ” Victory I ” cried he, ” Victory 1 Foulon was not dead 1 Foulon is still alive 1 I have discovered him I have found him 1 “

‘Everybody there was like you, Father Billot. No one would believe him. Some said, “Howl Foulon?” ” Yes.” Others said, ” Pshaw 1 impossible 1 ” And others said, ” Well, while you were at it, you might as well have discovered his son-in-law, Berthier.” ‘

‘Berthier I’ cried Billot.

‘Yes, Berthier de Savigny. Don’t you recollect our intendant at Compiegne, the friend of Monsieur Isidore de Charny?’

‘Undoubtedly I he who was always so proud with everybody, and so polite with Catherine?’

‘ Precisely, ‘ said Pitou ; ‘ one of those horrible contractors a second leech to the French people the execration of all human nature the shame of the civilised world, as said the virtuous Laustalot.’

‘Well, go on, go on 1’ cried Billot.

‘That is true,’ said Pitou ‘ad eventum festtHa~ which means to say. Monsieur Billot, ” hasten to the winding up.” Wait a moment.’

‘I am waiting; but you make my blood boil.’

‘Ah, but listen. I am hot enough too. I tell you that he had given it out that he was dead, and had one of his servants buried in his place. Fortunately, Providence was watching.’

‘Providence, indeed I’ disdainfully exclaimed the Voltairian Billot.

‘I intended to say, the nation,’ rejoined Pitou, with humility. ‘This good citizen, this patriot, out of breath, who announced the news to us, recognised him at Vitry, where ke had concealed himself. Having recognised him, he denounced him, and the syndic, whose name is Monsieur Raepp, instantly arrested him.’

a8S TAKING THE BASTILLE

‘And what is the name of the brave patriot who had the courage to do all this?’

‘Well, his name Is Monsieur Saint Jean.’

‘Saint Jean. Why, that is a lackey’s name.’

‘And he was precisely the lackey of the villain Foulon. Aristocrat, you are rightly served. Why had you lackeys ?’

‘Pitou, you interest me said Billot, going close to the narrator.

‘You are very kind. Monsieur Billot. Well, then, here is Foulon denounced and arrested; they are bringing him to Paris. The informer had run on ahead to announce the news, and receive the reward for his denunciation; and sure enough, in a few moments afterwards Foulon arrived at the barrier.’

‘And it was there that you saw him?’

‘Yes. He had a very queer look, I can tell you. They had twisted a bunch o stinging-nettles round his neck, by way of cravat.’

‘What say you? stinging-nettles? And what was that for?’

‘Because it appears that he said rascal as he is 1 that bread was for men, oats for horses, but that nettles were good enough for the people.’

‘Did he say that, the wretch?’

‘Yes 1 by Heaven 1 he said so, Monsieur Billot. Well, they brought him along on foot, and the whole of the way they were giving him smashing blows in the back and on his head.’