Taking the Bastile (40 page)

‘Oh, say not that, sire, or you will make me pity you. They love you, and they kill, they assassinate, they massacre those who represent you on the earth; you, a king you, the image of God. Well, the governor of the Bastille was your representative; he was the image of the king. Be well assured of this, and I shall not be accused of exaggeration when I say it. If they have killed De Launay, that brave and faithful servant, they would have killed you, sire, had you been in his place, and much more easily than they killed him; for they know you, and know that instead of defending yourself, you would have bared your breast to’ them.’

‘Madame,’ said Gilbert, ‘the king will be so much respected at Paris, and his presence will cause such transports, that if I have a fear, it is not for the king, but for those fanatics who will throw themselves to be crushed beneath his horse’s feet, like the Indian fakirs beneath the car of their idol.’

‘Oh, sir, sir I’ cried Marie Antoinette.

‘This march to Paris will be a triumph, madam e.’

‘But, sire, you do not reply.’

‘ It is because I agree somewhat with the doctor, madame.’

‘And you are impatient, are you not, to enjoy this great triumph?’

‘And the king, in this case, would be right,’ said Gilbert, ‘for this impatience would be a further proof of the profoundly just discrimination with which his majesty judges men and things. The more his majesty hastens to accomplish this, the greater will his triumph be.’

‘Yes, you believe that, sir?’

‘I am positive it will be so. For the king, by delaying it, would lose all the advantage to be derived from its spon t aneousness . ‘

‘I must ask for a delay, then,’ said the queen.

‘Ah, madame, ask everything, exact anything, excepting that.’

‘Antoinette,’ said the king, taking her hand, ‘you have iworn to ruin me.’

‘Oh, sire I’ exclaimed the queen, in a tone of reproach, which revealed all the anguish of her heart. ‘And can you speak thus to me?’

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‘Why, then, do you attempt to delay this journey?’ asked the king.

‘Consider truly, madame, that under such circumstances, the fitting moment is everything reflect on the importance of the hours which are flying past us at such a period, when an enraged and funous people are counting them anxiously as they strike.’

‘Not to-day, Monsieur Gilbert : to-morrow, sire, oh, to-morrow 1 grant me till to-morrow, and I swear to you I will no longer oppose this journey.’ ‘A day lost,’ murmured the king. ‘Twenty-four long hours,’ said Gilbert; ‘reflect on that, madame.’

‘Sire, it must be so,’ rejoined the queen, in a supplicating tone.

‘A reason a reason !’ cried the king. ‘None, but my despair, sire none, but my tears none, but my entreaties.’

‘But between this and to-morrow what may happen? Who can tell this?’ said the king, completely overcome by seeing the queen’s despair.

‘And what is there that could happen?’ said the queen,

at the same time looking at Gilbert with an air of entreaty.

‘Oh,’ said Gilbert, ‘out yonder nothing yet. A hope,

were it even as vague as a cloud, would suffice to make

them wait patiently till to-morrow : but ‘

‘But it is here, is it not?’ said the king. ‘Yea, sire, it is here that w havo to apprehend. 1 ‘It is the Assembly?’ Gilbert gave an affirmative nod.

‘The Assembly,’ continued the king, ‘with such men as Monsieur Monnier, Monsieur Mirabeau, and Monsieur Sieves, is capable of sending me some address which would deprive me of all the advantage of my good intentions.’

‘Well, then,’ exclaimed the queen, with gloomy fury, ‘so much the better, because you would then refuse because then you would maintain your diginty as a king - because then you would not go to Paris, and if we must here sustain a war, well, here will we sustain it because, if we must die, we will die here, but as illustrious and unshrinking monarchs which we are as kings, as masters, as Christians, who put their trust in God. from whom we hold the crown.’

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On perceiving this feverish excitement of the queen, Louis XVI. saw that there was nothing to be done but to yield it.

He made a sign to Gilbert, and advancing to Marie Antoinette, whose hand he took : ‘Tranquillise yourself, madame,’ said he to her; ‘all shall be done as you desire. You know, my dear wife, that I would not do anything which would be displeasing to you, for I have the most unbounded affection for a woman of your merit, and above all, of your virtue.’

And Louis XVI. accentuated these last words with inexpressible nobleness; thus exalting with all his power the so-much calumniated queen, and that in the presence of a witness capable, should it be requisite, of properly reporting all he had heard and seen.

This delicacy profoundly moved Marie Antoinette, who, grasping with both hands the hand which the king held out to her : ‘Well, then, only till to-morrow, sire no later; that shall be the last delay; but I ask you that as a favour on my knees. To-morrow at the hour which may please you, I swear to you, you shall set out for Paris

‘Take care, madame, the doctor is a witness,’ said the King smiling.

‘Sire, you have never known me to forfeit my word,’ replied the queen.

‘Till to-morrow,’ said the king.

‘Till to-morrow !’ sorrowfully rejoined the queen.

‘Do you keep the doctor with you?’ asked the king.

‘Oh, no, no I’ cried the queen, with a sort of eagerness which made Gilbert smile.

‘I will take him with me, then.’

Gilbert bowed a third time to the Queen Marie Antoinette, who, this time, returned his salutation more as a woman than a queen.

‘It appears to me,’ said the king, as they proceeded along the gallery, ‘that you are on good terms with the queen, Monsieur Gilbert.

‘Sire,’ replied the doctor, ‘it is a favour for which I am indebted to your majesty.’

‘Long live the king I’ cried the courtiers, who already thronged the ante-chambers. ‘Long live the king I’ repeated ac rowd of officers and foreign soldiers in the courtyard, who were eagerly hastening towards the palace

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doors. These acclamations, which became louder as the crowd increased, gave greater delight to the heart of Louis XVI. than any he had before received, although he had so frequently been greeted in the same manner.

As to the queen, still seated where the king had left her, near the window, and where she had just passed such agonising moments, when she heard the cries of devotedness and love which welcomed the king as he passed by, and which gradually died away in the distance, under the porticoes, or beneath the thickets of the park, ‘ Long live the king !’ cried she; ‘yes-, long live the king I The king will live, and that in despite of thee, infamous Paris I thou odious gulf, thou sanguinary abyss, thou shalt not swallow up this victim 1 I will drag him from thee, and that with this little, this weak arm. It threatens thee at this moment it devotes thee to the execration of the world, and to the vengeance of God 1’

Then she called Madame de Campan, the lady-in- waiting in whom she placed the most confidence, and shutting herself up with her in her cabinet, ordered that no one should be admitted to her presence.

THE following morning the sun rose brilliant and pure as on the preceding day. The queen had risen at five o’clock. She had given orders that the king should be requested to go to her apartment as soon as he should wake. Louis XVI. had slept somewhat later than usual to recover from his fatigue, and that it might not be said that he was not as vigorous as ever. Therefore, he was scarcely dressed when the queen’s message was delivered to him; he was at that moment putting on his sword. He slightly knit his brow.

‘What 1’ said he, ‘is the queen already up?’

‘Oh, a long time ago, sire.’

‘Is she again ill?’

‘No, sire.’

‘And what can the queen want so early in the morning ?’

‘Her majesty did not say.’

The king took his first breakfast, which consisted of a

266 TAKING THE BASTILLE

bowl of soup, and a little wine, and then went to the queen’s apartment. He found the queen full dressed, as for a ceremonious reception beautiful, pale, imposing. She welcomed her husband with that cold smile which shone like a winter’s sun upon the cheeks of the queen. She made a sign to Madame Campan, who had remained at the farther end of the room, and the latter took from a drawer of the queen’s chiffonnier, a wide oblong flat parcel, wrapped up in a silken cover.

‘Sire,’ said the queen, ‘the heart of the king belongs, in the first place, to France, that is true; but I fully believe that it belongs to his wife and children. For my part, I will not consent that this heart should be exposed to the balls of the enemy I have adopted measures to save from every danger my husband, my king, the father of my children.’

While saying thi, she unfolded the silk which covered it, and displayed a waistcoat of fine steel mail, crossed with such marvellous art that it might have been thought an Arabian watered stuff, so supple and elastic was its tissue, BO admirable the play of its whole surface. The king took the waistcoat in his hands and examined it very minutely. The queen, on observing this eagerness, was perfectly transported. The king, on his part, appeared delighted, counting the rings of this fairy net which undulated beneath his fingers with all the malleability of knitted wool.

‘Why,’ exclaimed he, ‘this is admirable steel 1’

‘Try it on.’

The king allowed her to divest him of his cravat, and the delicate fingers of the queen placed the steel collar round his neck, This waistcoat was longer than an ordinary cuirass; it covered the whole body. With the waistcoat and shirt over it, it did not increase the volume of the body even half a line. It did not, in the slightest degree, inconvenience any movement of the wearer.

‘I have saved my king 1’ cried Marie Antoinette.

‘My dear wife,’ said Louis XVI., unhooking the coat of mail and placing it on the table, ‘what gratitude do I not owe you I

‘Well now, what is it you are doing?’ asked the queen.

And she took the waistcoat and again presented it to the king. But he, with a smile replete with nobleness and kindness,

THE DEPARTURE i6?

‘No,’ said he, ‘I thank you.’

‘You refuse it?’ said the queen.

‘I refuse it.’

‘But they will kill you.’

‘My dear Antoinette, when gentlemen in this eighteenth century are going out to battle, they wear a cloth coat, waistcoat, and shirt, this is all they have to defend them against musket-balls; when they go upon the field of honour to fight a duel, they throw off all but their shirt that is for the sword. As to myself, I am the first gentleman of my kingdom; I will do neither more nor less than my friends; and there is more than this while they wear cloth, I alone have the right to wear silk. Thanks, my good wife ; thanks, my good queen thanks.’

‘Ah 1’ exclaimed the queen, at once despairing and delighted, ‘why cannot his army hear him speak thus?’

As to the king, he quietly completed his toilet, without even appearing to understand the act ot heroism he had just performed.

‘Is the monarchy then lost?’ murmured the queen, ‘when we can feel so proudly at such a moment?’

On leaving the queen’s apartment, the king immediately found himself surrounded by all the officers and all the persons of his household, who had been appointed by him to attend him on his journey to Paris. Gilbert was waiting, in the middle of the crowd, till Louis XVI. should perceive him, were it only to cast a look upon him in passing. It could be easily perceived that the whole of the throng there present were still in doubt, and that they could not credit that the king would persist in following up the resolution he had come to.

‘After breakfast, gentlemen,’ said the king, ‘we will set out.’ Then, perceiving Gilbert, ‘Ah 1 you are there, doctor,’ he continued, ‘you know that I take you with me.’

‘At your orders, sire.’

The king went into his cabinet, where he was engaged two hours. He afterwards attended mass with all his household; then, at about nine o’clock, he sat down to breakfast. The repast was taken with the usual ceremonies, excepting that the queen, who, after attending mass, was observed to be put of spirits, her eyes swelled and red, had insisted on being present at the king’s repast, but without partaking of it in the slightest manner, that

268 TAKING THE BASTILLE

she might be with him to the last moment. The queen had brought her two children with her, who already much agitated, doubtless, by what the queen had said to them, were looking anxiously from time to time at their father’s face. The king ate on stoically. He spoke several times to Gilbert, without taking his eyes off his plate; he spoke frequently to the queen, and always with deep affection. At last, he gave instructions to the commanders of his troops. He was just finishing his breakfast, when an officer came in to announce to him that a compact body of men on foot, coming from Paris, had just appeared at the end of the grand avenue, leading to the Place d’Armes. On hearing this, the officers and guards at once rushed out of the room. The king raised his head and looked at Gilbert, but seeing that Gilbert smiled, he tranquilly continued eating. The queen turned pale, and leaned towards M. de Beauvau, to request him to obtain information. Five minutes afterwards, M. de Beauvau returned.

‘Sire,’ said he, on entering the room, ‘they are National Guards, from Paris, who, hearing the rumour spread yesterday in the capital, of your majesty’s intention to visit the Parisians, assembled to the number of some ten thousand, for the purpose of coming out to meet you on the road, and not meeting you so soon as they expected, they have pushed on to Versailles.’

‘What appear to be their intentions ?’ asked the king.

‘The best in the world,’ replied M. de Beauvau.

‘ See that refreshments be given to these worthy people,’ said he.

M. de Beauvau went down a second time. He transmitted to the cellarinan the order he had received from the king. After doing this, he went upstairs again.