Taking the Bastile (42 page)

During this, Gilbert remained constantly at the door of the king’s carriage, Billot near Gilbert, Pitou near Billot.

Gilbert, faithful to his promise, had found means, since his departure from Versailles, to despatch four couriers to the queen.

These couriers had each been the bearer of good news, for at every step of his journey the king had seen caps thrown up in the air as he passed, only on each of these caps shone the colours of the nation, a species of reproach addressed to the white cockade which the king’s guards and the king himself wore in their hats. In the midst of his joy and enthusiasm, this discrepancy in the cockades was the only thing which annoyed Billot. The idea so much perplexed him, that he could not refrain from un-burthening his mind upon the subject to Gilbert, at a moment when the latter was not conversing with the king.

‘Monsieur Gilbert,’ said he to him, ‘how is it that his majesty does not wear the national cockade?’

‘Because, my dear Billot, either the king does not know that there is a new cockade, or he considers that the cockade he wears ought to be the cockade of the nation.’

‘Oh 1 no oh I no, since his cockade is a white one, and our cockade ours is a tricoloured one.’

‘One moment,’ said Gilbert, stopping Billot just as he was about to launch with heart and soul into the arguments advanced by the newspapers of the day, ‘the king’s

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cockade is white, as the flag of France is white. The king is in no way to blame for this. Cockade and flag were white long before he came into the world. Moreover, my dear Billot, that flag has performed great feats, and so has the white cockade. There was a white cockade in the hat of Admiral de Suffren, when he re-established our flag in the East Indies. There was a white cockade in the hat of Assas, and it was by that the Germans recognised him in the night, when he allowed himself to be killed rather than that they should take his soldiers by surprise. There was a white cockade in the hat of Marshal Saxe, when he defeated the English at Fontenoy. There was, in fine, a white cockade in the hat of the Prince de Conde, when he beat the Imperialists at Rocroi, at Fribourg, and at Lens. The white cockade has done all this, and a great many other things, my dear Billot, while the national cockade, which will perhaps make a tour round the world, as Lafayette has predicted, has not yet had time to accomplish anything, seeing that it exists only for the three last days. I do not say that it will rest idle, do you understand, but, in short, having as yet done nothing, it gives the king full right to wait till it has done something.’

‘How? the national cockade has as yet done nothing?’ cried Billot, ‘has it not taken the Bastille?’

‘It has,’ said Gilbert sorrowfully; ‘you are right, Billot.’

‘And that is why,’ triumphantly rejoined the fanner, ‘that is why the king ought to adopt it.’

Gilbert gave a furious nudge with his elbow into Billot’s ribs, for he had perceived the king was listening.

‘Are you mad. Billot?’ said he; ‘and against whom was the Bastille taken, then? Against royalty, it seems to me. And now you would make the king wear the trophies of your triumph, and the insignia of his own defeat. Madman I the King is all heart, all goodness, all candour, and you would wish him to show himself a hypocrite I

f But,’ said Billot, more humbly, without, however, giving up the argument altogether, ‘it was not precisely against the king that the Bastille was taken, it was against despotism. No,’ again becoming animated, ‘it is not against our good king that we have fought, but against his satellites. Moreover, he disapproves them, since he comes thus in the midst of us; and if he disapproves them, he must approve ua. It is for our happiness and his

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honour that we have worked, we, the conquerors of the Bastille.’

Gilbert, who perceived the attention which the Jang was paying to the discussion, made every effort to lead Billot on to less slippery ground than that on which he had ventured. Suddenly the procession stopped; it had arrived at the Cpurs la Keine, at the gate formerly called La Conference, in the Champs Elysees. There a deputation of electors and aldermen, presided over by the new mayor, Bailly, had drawn themselves up in fine array, with a guard of three hundred men, commanded by a colonel, besides at least three hundred members of the National Assembly, taken, as it will be readily imagined, from the ranks of the Tiers Etat. Two of the electors united their strength and their address to hold in equilibrium a vast salver of gilt plate, upon which were lying two enormous keys, the keys of the city of Paris during the days of Henry IV. This imposing spectacle at once put a stop to all individual conversations, and every one, whether in the crowd or in the ranks, immediately directed their attention to the speeches about to be pronounced on the occasion.

Bailly, the worthy man of science, the admirable astronomer, who had been made a deputy in defiance to his own will, a mayor in spite of his objections, an orator notwithstanding his unwillingness, had prepared a long speech. This speech had for its exordium, according to the strictest laws of rhetoric, a laudatory encomium on the king, from the coming into power of M. Turgot, down to the taking of the Bastille. Bailly was delighted with the speech he had prepared, when an incident furnished him with a new exordium, very much more picturesque than the one he had prepared. While walking towards the place of meeting, with the aldermen and the electors, Bailly was alarmed at the weight of the keys which he was about to present to the king.

‘Do you believe,’ said he, laughingly, ‘that after having shown these to the king, I wUl undergo the fatigue of carrying them back to Paris?’

‘What will you do with them, then?’ asked one of the electors.

‘What will I do with them?’ said Bailly; ‘why, I will give them to you, or I will throw them into some ditch at the foot of a tree.’

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‘Take good care not to do that,’ cried the elector completely horrified. ‘Do you know that these keys are the same which the city of Paris offered to Henry IV. after the siege? They are very precious, they are inestimable antiquities.’

‘You are right,’ rejoined Bailly, ‘the keys offered to Henry IV., the conqueror of Paris, and which are now to be offered to Louis XVI, heh? Why, I declare, now, said the worthy mayor to himself, ‘this would be a capital antithesis in my speech.’

And instantly he took a pencil and wrote above the speech he had prepared the following exordium :

‘Sire, I present to your majesty the keys of the good city of Paris. They are the same which were offered to Henry IV. He had reconquered his people; to-day the people have reconquered their king.’

Louis XVI. approved it by an affirmative nod, bu+ colouring deeply at the same time; for he felt the epigram-matic irony which it conveyed, although concealed beneath a semblance of respect and oratorical flourishes. The king, who had paid too much attention to the commencement of the speech, did not listen at all to the conclusion of it, nor to that of the president of the electors, M. Delavigne, of which he heard neither the beginning nor the end. However, the addresses being concluded, the king, fearing not to appear sufficiently delighted with their efforts to say that which was agreeable to him, replied in a very noble tone, and without making any allusion to what the orators had said, that the homage of the city of Paris and of the electors was exceedingly gratifying to him. After which he gave orders for the procession to move on towards the Hdtel de Ville. But before it recommenced its march, he dismissed his bodyguard, wishing to respond by a gracious confidence to the half-politeness which had been evinced to him by the municipality, through their organs, the president of the electors and M. Bailly. Being thus alone, amid the enormous mass of National Guards and spectators, the carriage advanced more rapidly.

Gilbert and his companion Billot still retained their posts on the right of the carriage. At the moment when they were crossing the Place Louis XV., the report of a gun was heard, fired from the opposite side of the Seine, and a white smoke arose, like a veil of incense, toward!

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the blue sky, where it as Suddenly vanished. As if the report of the musket shot had found an echo within his breast, Gilbert had felt himself struck, as by a violent blow. For a second his breath failed him, and he hastily pressed his hand to his heart, where he felt a sudden and severe pain. At the same instant a cry of distress was heard around the royal carriage; a woman had fallen to the ground, shot through the right shoulder. One of the buttons of Gilbert’s coat, a large steel button, cut diamond fashion, as they were worn at the period, had just been struck diagonally by that same ball. It had performed the office of a breastplate, and the ball had glanced off from it; this had caused the painful shock which Gilbert had experienced. This ball, on glancing from the button, had killed the unfortunate woman, who was instantly removed from the spot, bleeding profusely. The king had heard the shot, but had seen nothing.

He leaned towards Gilbert, and smiling, said, ‘They are burning gunpowder yonder, to do me honour.’

‘Yes, sire,’ replied Gilbert.

But he was careful not to mention to his majesty the nature of the ovation which they were offering to him. In his own mind, however, he acknowledged that the queen had some reason for the apprehensions she had expressed, since, but for him standing immediately before, and closing the carriage door, as it were, hermetically, that ball, which had glanced off from his steel button, would have gone straight to the king’s breast.

Billot, pale from what he had just seen, his eyes incessantly attracted to the rent made in Gilbert’s coat, waistcoat, and frill, excited Pitou to shout as loudly as he could, ‘Long live the Father of the French I ‘

At last Louis XVI. arrived in front of the H6tel de Ville. Upon the facade of the H6tel de Ville was an inscription, in large letters, black in the daylight, but which, when it was dark, were to form a brilliant transparency. This inscription was the result of the generous lucubrations of the municipal authorities.

The inscription was as follows :

‘To Louis XVI., FATHER OF THE FRENCH, AND KING OF A FREE PEOPLE.’

Another antithesis, much more important than the one contained ia M. Bailly’s speech, and which excited

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shouts of admiration from all the Parisians assembled In the square. The inscription attracted the attention of Billot. But as Billot could not read, he made Pitou read the inscription to him.

‘The municipality has written that the king is a king of a free people ? ‘

‘Yes, Father Billot.’

‘Well, then,’ exclaimed Billot, ‘since the nation is free it has the right to offer its cockade to the king.’

And with one bound, rushing before the king, who was then alighting from his carriage at the front steps of the H6tel de Ville : ‘Sire,’ said he, ‘you saw on the Pont Neuf that the Henry IV., in bronze, wore the national cockade.

‘Well?’ cried the king.

‘Well, sire, if Henry IV. wears the national cockade, you can wear it too.’

‘Certainly,’ said Louis XVI., much embarrassed, ‘and if I had one ‘

‘Well,’ cried Billot, in a louder tone, and raising his hand, ‘in the name of the people, I offer you this one in the place of yours; accept it.’

Bailly intervened. The king was pale. He began to see the progressive encroachment. He looked at Bailly as if to ask his opinion.

‘Sire,’ said the latter, ‘it is the distinctive sign of every Frenchman.’

‘In that case, I accept it,’ said the king, taking the cockade from Billot’s hands.

And putting aside his own white cockade, he placed the tricoloured one in his hat. An immense triumphant hurrah was echoed from the great crowd upon the square. Gilbert turned away his head, much grieved. He considered that the people were encroaching too rapidly, and that the king dia not resist sufficiently.

‘Long live the king I’ cried Billot, who thus gave the signal for a second round of applause.

‘The king is dead,’ murmured Gilbert; ‘there is no longer a king in France. Ah 1 what will the queen say to this?’

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IN the interior of the H6tel de Ville the king received the most flattering welcome; he was styled the Restorer of Liberty.

Being invited to speak, and the king wishing, in short, to ascertain the feelings of all present, he placed his hand upon his heart, and said : ‘Gentlemen, you may always calculate on my affection.’

While he was thus listening in the H6tel de Ville to the communications from the government for from that day a real government was constituted in France, besides that of the throne and the National Assembly the people outside the building were admiring the beautiful horses, the gilt carriage, the lackeys, and the coachmen of his majesty.

Pitou, since the entry of the king into the H6tel de Ville, had, thanks to a louis given by Father Billot, amused himself in making a goodly quantity of cockades, of red and blue ribbons, which he had purchased with the louis, and with these, which were of all sizes, he had decorated the horses’ ears, the harness, and the whole equipage. On seeing this, the imitative people had literally metamorphosed the king’s carriage into a cockade shop. However it must be said that M. de Lafayette, who had remained on horseback, had endeavoured to restrain these honest propagators of the national colours, but had not been able to succeed. And therefore, when the king came out,

‘Oh, oh I’ cried he, on seeing this strange bedizenment of his equipage.

Then, with his hand, he made a sign to M. Lafayette to approach him. M. de Lafayette respectfully advanced, lowering his sword as he came near the king.

‘Monsieur de Lafayette,’ said the king to him, ‘I was looking for you to say to you that I confirm your appointment to the command of the National Guards.’

And he got into his carriage amid a universal acclamation. As to Gilbert, tranquillised henceforward as to the personal safety of the king, he had remained in the hall with Bailly and the electors. The speechifying had not yet terminated. However, on hearing the loud hurrahs