The Countess De Charny - Volume II (32 page)

Thus the equilibrium between the tAvo parties was again restored. True the Mountaineers had demanded the abolishment of royalty, but the Girondists had demanded the immediate establishment of a Eepublic in their turn.

The Republic was not established by ballot, but by acclamation, and the measure supplied a long felt want.

It was the consecration of the long struggle the people had sustained, as their rights had now received legal recognition. The proclamation of a Republic meant the crown-ing of the masses at royalty’s expense. It seemed as if the weight of the throne had been lifted from every breast, so much more freely did every citizen breathe.

The delusion was brief, but magnificent. It was the general belief that a Republic had been established; but instead, a lawless rebellion had just been inaugurated, so to speak.

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The true, or at least the purest, Eepublicans — those who wished the Kepublic to be free from crimes, and who intended to attack the triumvirate of Danton, Kobespierre, and Marat, the next day — the Girondists, were filled with joy.

To them, the Republic meant the realisation of their fondest hopes. Under Francis I. and Louis XIV. France had been a subjugated Athens ; under Girondist rule they fondly believed she would become a victorious Sparta.

They held a banquet to celebrate the event at the home of Minister Eoland that same evening. Vergniaud, Guadet, Louvet, Pétion, Barbaroux, Gensonne, Grangeneuve and Condorcet were present. Before another year had elapsed, they were all to be guests at a much more solemn banquet; but now, they resolutely closed their eyes to the dangers of the unknown seas before them, though they could hear even now the roar of the Maelstrom in which the pilot and crew, if not the entire crew, were to go down eventually.

The thought they had so long cherished had taken upon itself a form and a name. There it stood before their eyes, — this youthful Eepublic which had sprung forth armed with spear and helmet, like Minerva, from the head of Jove. What more could the heart of man desire?

During the two hours spent at this solemn love feast, many noble thoughts were interchanged. These men spoke of their lives as of something which no longer belonged to themselves, but to the nation. They would even relinquish fame and renown if need be ; the only thing they insisted upon preserving was their honour.

And whom did these men regard as their future leader? Who was the chief founder of this youthful Eepublic, and who ought consequently to be its future guide? Vergniaud !

As the banquet was about to end, he filled his glass and exclaimed, —

“My friends, a toast!”

And when all the other guests had risen, like himself, he added , —

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“To the immortality of the Republic! “

“To the immortality of the Republic!” repeated every one present.

He was about to raise the glass to his lips, but Madame Roland cried: ““Wait!” and taking from her bosom a beautiful half-blown rose she scattered its petals over Yergniaud’s glass, as an Athenian woman once scattered rose leaves in the goblet of Pericles.

Vergniaud smiled sadly, but drained the glass; then, turning to Barbaroux who sat on his left, he whispered : “Alas! I fear this noblewoman is sadly mistaken. Not rose leaves, but cypress should flavour our wine to-night. In drinking to a Republic whose feet are stained with the blood of such massacres as those of September, it is more than likely that we are drinking to our own destruction. Still, that does not matter,” he added, glancing devoutly heavenward ; “were this wine my heart’s blood I would still drink it to Liberty and Equality.”

” The Republic forever ! ” repeated all the guests in concert.

Almost at that very moment, trumpets were sounding in front of the Temple, commanding silence; and through the open windows of their chambers, the king and queen could hear a municipal officer proclaiming in stentorian tones the abolishment of royalty and the establishment of a Republic.

THE STORY OF THE MAETYE KING. 2G5

CHAPTEE XXXIV.

THE STORY OF THE MARTYR KING.

Important events followed one another now in such swift succession, that there were few breathing places between the 21st of September, the day of the monarchy’s demise, and the 21st of January, the day of the monarch’s execution.

The proclaiming of a Republic by the stentorian voice of municipal officer Lubin, under the windows of the royal prison-house, naturally summons us to the Temple, where-in a king who is fast becoming a man is confined, as well as a queen who remains a queen, that virgin martyr, the Princess Elizabeth, and two poor children innocent by reason of their age, if not their birth.

The king was in the Temple. Had it been deliberately planned to immure him in that squalid abode? No. At first Petion contemplated sending Louis XVI. to the interior of France and giving him Chambord as a place of residence; in short, treating him as a sort of fainéant monarch.

If the other European monarchs had been content to play the part of mere lookers-on, and had not undertaken to meddle with the politics of France, this secluded residence in a beautiful palace, in a fine climate, in the middle of what is known as the garden of France, would certainly have been no very cruel punishment for a man who had not only his own faults, but those of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. as well, to expiate.

But there had just been a daring insurrection in the Vendée, and it was feared there might be a bold attempt at rescue by way of the Loire, and this seemed sufficient reason for the abandonment of tliat plan.

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ïlie Assembly thon suggested the Luxembourg. This lovely palace, which had belonged to Marie de Medicis, with its gardens rivalling those of the Tuileries, was a no less desirable residence than Chambord for a fallen monarch.

But objection was made that the cellars under the palace were connected with the catacombs which had recently been found both unhealthy and unsafe; and though this may have been only a pretext on the part of the Commune, it was a very plausible pretext, and that municipal body decided upon the Temple, which had once belonged to the order of Knights Templar which had been abolished through the efforts of Philip the Fair. By this, the Commune did not mean the tower or donjon of the Temple, but the part called the palace which had formerly served as the Commandery of the Knights, and subsequently as the town residence of Count d’Artois, the youngest brother of Louis XVI., and afterwards King of France.

But as Petion was about to conduct the royal family there, a denunciation reached the Commune which caused a change in these plans, and Manuel was instructed to take the august prisoners to the donjon instead of to the palace. Manuel after he had inspected the place left considerably mortified, for the accommodations were not only entirely inadequate, but the apartments were untidy, even squalid, and the beds uncomfortable and alive with ver-min. Still, all this came about not so much from pre-meditation on the part of the judges, as from that sort of fatality which seems to always weigh down a dying race.

The National Assembly had not been miserly about the expense of gratifying the royal palate, however. The king was a hearty eater. This is not said by way of reproach. It was a characteristic of the Bourbons ; but unfortunately Louis XVI. seemed disposed to eat at inopportune, or at least inappropriate times. He ate, and with much apparent zest, while the slaughter was going on at the Tuileries; and during his trial his judges not only noted his unsea-THE STOKY OF THE MAKTYK KING. 267

sonable repasts with something like disgust, but, what is worse, implacable history records them in her archives.

The National Assembly made a liberal appropriation for the expenses of the king’s table, and during the four months the king spent in the Temple, the expense was forty thousand francs , — ten thousand francs per month, over three hundred and thirty-three francs per day.

Tn the Temple, Louis had three body and thirteen table servants. His dinner consisted every day of six roasts, four entrées, three varieties of sweets, and as many of fruits, claret, malvoisie, and madeira. He and his little son drank wine. The queen and the princesses drank nothing but Avater.

So far as his table was concerned consequently the king had no cause to complain, but he did wofuUy lack fresh air and exercise and sunshine.

Accustomed to the hunting-grounds of Compeigne and Rambouillet, and the parks of Versailles and Trianon, Louis now found himself reduced to a tiny bit of dry and barren ground, whose only adornment consisted of three or four neglected flower-beds and a few stunted trees, — a disagreeable and depressing spot for one’s daily promenade surely, but not as disagreeable and repulsive as the dungeons of the Inquisition at Madrid, the lead mines established by the Council of Ten at Venice, or the dungeons at Spielberg in which monarchs often incarcerated political offenders.

We are not trying to excuse the Commune, nor do wo excuse the kings. We simply say tliat the imprisonment in the Temple was a sort of reprisal, — an ill-advised and terrible reprisal, — whereas it has been represented as a persecution, and the victim has thus been transformed into a martyr.

Meanwhile, what about the personal appearance of these personages we have indertaken to follow through all the varying phases of their lives?

The king, with his flabby cheeks and hanging lips and

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lumbering aud uncertain gait, looked like some worthy far-mer crushed by misfortune. The queen’s manner was still reserved, supercilious, aud highly antagonistic. In her days of grandeur, Marie Antoinette inspired love; in the hour of the downfall, she inspired devotion, but no sympathy.

Madame Elizabeth, in her white robe, symbolic truly of her purity of heart and soul, with her fair hair which was all the more beautiful now she was obliged to wear it loosely flowing and unpowdered, looked like the guardian angel of the family.

Madame Royale was not particularly interesting in spite of her youth. A thorough Austrian like her mother, — another Marie Antoinette or Maria Theresa, — she already manifested that contemptuousness and pride which characterise alike royal races and birds of prey.

The dauphin with his golden hair and fair complexion was a rather attractive child, but his blue eye was stern and bold, and his face often wore an expression unsuited to his years. He understood everything, and in a single glance he could catch any suggestion his mother wished to make to him. He was an adept, too, in all those tricks for exciting sympathy in which some children excel, so much so, indeed, that he even touched the heart of Chaumette, — Chaumette that sharp-nosed ferret, that weasel in spectacles.

” I would give him an education,” the ex-clerk remarked to Hué; “but it would be necessary to separate him from his family so he would forget his rank.”

The officials were both cruel and imprudent, — cruel in subjecting the royal family to such unnecessarily harsh and insulting treatment, imprudent in allowing the captives to be seen in such a crushed and enfeebled condition. Almost every day the guards were changed. They came to the Temple sworn enemies to the king; they left it bitter enemies to Marie Antoinette, — but with more kindly feelings towards the king, with sincere compassion for the children, and loud praises for Madame Elizabeth.

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In short, they found at the Temple instead of the wolf, the she-wolf, and their cubs, a worthy family, apparently of the middle class, with a rather haughty mother, it is true, who would not allow any one to so much as touch the hem of her robe, but no tyrant, and indeed, no trace of any.

And how did this family spend their time? Clery, who remained with the master until the last, can tell us.

The family was confined in the small tower which stood directly behind the large tower, but there was no communication between them. The small tower was square and was flanked by two turrets, and in one of these turrets was a small stairway which led from the ground floor to the roof. The tower was four stories high. The first floor was divided into an antechamber, dining-room, and a small room or closet in the turret. The next floor was divided in the same way, the larger room serving as the chamber of the queen and dauphin; the other, separated from it by a dark narrow passage, was occupied by Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale, and in order to reach the room in the turret Avhich was nothing more or less than a toilet closet used in common by the royal family, the municipal officers, and the soldiers on guard, one was obliged to pass through Madame Elizabeth’s room.

The king occupied a similar suite of rooms on the floor above. He slept in the largest; the smaller one served him as a study. There was a kitchen with a small ante-room, which was occupied at first by Chamilly and Hué, but which was closed after these faithful attendants were separated from their master.

The basement, devoted to a kitchen and scullery, had not been used for a long time.

The king always rose at six o’clock in the morning. He shaved himself, — as long as he was allowed to do so; then Clery arranged his hair and assisted him to dress; after which the king went into his study, that is to say, into a room containing the arcliivos of the Kniglits of Malta, as well as a library of a thousand or more volumes.

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One day the king found the works of Voltaire and Rousseau among these books, and pointed them out to Clery. “These are the men who have ruined France,” he remarked.

Every morning, when he entered this room, the king devoted five or six minutes to prayer, then he read until nine, generally from Virgil or the Odes of Horace, for he had resumed the study of Latin in order to go on with the dauphin’s education.

This study was a small room, and the door was kept open, so a municipal officer, who was always in the bedroom, could look in through the open door and see what the king was doing.