Taking the Bastile; Or, Pitou the Peasant

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE QUEEN AT BAY.

  While the King was learning to fight Revolution like a philosopher, andrecreate himself with a spiritualistic seance, the Queen was rallyingthe combative around her in her rooms.

  She sat at a table, with priests, courtiers, generals and her ladiessurrounding her. At the doorways young officers, full of ardor andcourage, rejoiced in the riots which gave them a chance to show theirmilitary gifts as at a tourney under view of their queens of beauty.

  The Queen was no longer the sweet girl whom we saw in our work entitled"Balsamo the Magician," or the fair princess who went to Mesmer'sBaths, with Princess Lamballe: but the haughty and imperious Queen whowas neither Marie Antoinette, nor Queen of France, but the AustrianEagless.

  She looked up as Prince Lambesq arrived, dusty, splashed, his bootstorn and his sabre bent so as not to be sheathed properly.

  "Well, my lord," she said, "You come from Paris. What are the peopledoing?"

  "Killing and burning."

  "From madness or malice?"

  "From ferocity."

  "Nay, prince," she replied, after meditating: "the people are notferocious. Hide nothing from me. Is it delirium or hate?"

  "I believe it is hate at the point of delirium."

  "Against me?"

  "What does it matter?" said Dreux Breze, stepping forward. "The peoplemay hate any one, saving your Majesty."

  The Queen did not notice the flattery.

  "The people," replied Lambesq, "are acting in hatred of--all abovethem."

  "Good, that is the truth at last?" exclaimed the royal lady resolutely;"I feel that is so."

  "I am speaking as a soldier," continued the cavalrist.

  "Speak so. What is to be done?"

  "Nothing."

  "What?" cried she, emboldened by the protest from among the gold-lacedcoat and gold-hilted sword wearers, "nothing? do you, a Lorraineprince, tell this to the Queen of France when the people are killingand burning?"

  A fresh murmur, this time approbative, hailed her speech. She turned,embraced all the gathering with flaring eyes, and tried to distinguishwhose flamed the most brightly, thinking they would be the most loyal.

  "Do nothing," repeated the prince, "for the Parisians will cool downif not irritated--they are warlike only when teased. Why give them thehonors of a war and the risks of a battle? Keep tranquil, and in threedays Paris will not talk about the matter."

  "But the Bastile?"

  "Shut the doors and trap all those who are inside."

  Some laughs sounded among the groups.

  "Take care, prince," said the lady; "now you are going to the otherextreme, and too much encouraging me."

  With a thoughtful mien, she went over to where her favorite, theCountess of Polignac, was in a brown study on a lounge. The news hadfrightened the lady; she smiled only when the Queen stood before herand that was a faint and sickly smile like a wilted lily.

  "What do you say to this, countess?"

  "Nothing," and she shook her head with unspeakable discouragement.

  "Heaven help us, our dashing Diana is afraid," said the Queen, bendingover her, "we want our intrepid Countess Charny here. It seems to methat we need her to cheer us up."

  "The countess was going out when the King sent for her," explained anattendant.

  Then only did Marie Antoinette perceive the isolation and stillnessaround her. The recent strange and unheard-of events had hitVersailles hard, making the hardest hearts tender, more by astonishmentthan fear. The sovereign understood that she must lift up thesedisheartened spirits.

  "As nobody suggests any advice, I shall act on my own impulse," shesaid: "The people are not wicked but led astray." Everybody drewnearer. "They hate us because they do not know us; let us go up tothem."

  "To punish," interposed a voice, "for they know we are their masters,and to doubt us is a crime."

  "Oh, baron," she said, recognizing Bezenval; "do you come to give usgood advice?"

  "I have given it."

  "The King will punish, but as a kind father does."

  "He loveth well who chasteneth soundly," replied the noble.

  "Are you of this thinking, prince?" she asked of Lambesq. "The populacehave committed assassinations----"

  "Which they call retaliation," observed a sweet, fresh voice which madethe Queen turn.

  "Yes, but that is where their error lies, my dear Lamballe, so we shallbe indulgent."

  "But," resumed the princess with her bland voice, "before one talks ofpunishment one ought to be sure of winning the victory, methinks."

  A general outcry rose against this piece of good sense from the noblelips.

  "Not vanquish--with the Swiss troops--and the Germans--and theLifeguards?"

  "Do you doubt the army and the nobility?" exclaimed a young man inBercheny Hussian uniform, "have we deserved such a slur? Bear in mind,royal lady, that the King can put in battle array forty thousand men,throw them into Paris by the four sides and destroy the town. Fortythousand proven soldiers are worth half a million of Parisian rioters."

  The young lieutenant, emboldened to be the mouthpiece of his brotherofficers, stopped short on seeing how far his enthusiasm had carriedhim. But the Queen had caught enough to feel the scope of his outburst.

  "Do you know the state of affairs, sir?" she inquired.

  "I was in the riots yesterday," was his confused reply.

  "Then, do not fear to speak. Let us have details."

  The lieutenant stepped out, though he colored up.

  "My Lords of Bezenval and Lambesq know them better than I," he said.

  "Continue, young sir; it pleases me to hear them from you. Under whoseorders are these forty thousand men?"

  "The superiors are the two gentlemen I named; under whom rule PrinceConde, Narbonne-Fritzlar and Salkenaym. The park of artillery onMontmartre could lay that district in ashes in six hours. At its signalto fire, Vincennes would answer. From four quarters as many corpsof ten thousand troops could march in, and Paris would not hold outtwenty-four hours."

  "This is plain speaking at least, and a clear plan. What do you say tothis, Prince Lambesq?"

  "That the young gentleman is a perfect general!"

  "At least, he is a soldier who does not despair," said the Queen,seeing the lieutenant turn pale with anger.

  "Thank your Majesty," replied the latter. "I do not know what yourMajesty will decide, but I beg her to count me with the other fortythousand men, including the captains, as ready to die for her."

  With these words he courteously saluted the general, who had almostinsulted him. This courtesy struck the Queen more than the pledge ofdevotedness.

  "Your name, sir?" said she.

  "Viscount Charny," he responded.

  "Charny," repeated Marie Antoinette, blushing in spite of herself; "anyrelation to Count Charny?"

  "I am his brother, lady," bowing more lowly than before.

  "I might have known that you were one of my most faithful servitors,"said she, recovering from her tremor and looking round with confidence,"by the first words you spoke. I thank you, viscount; how comes this tobe the first time I have the pleasure of seeing you at court?"

  "My eldest brother, head of the family, ordered me to stay with thearmy, and I have only been in Versailles twice during seven years onthe regimental roll-call."

  She let a long look dwell on his face.

  "You resemble your brother," she remarked. "I shall scold him forhaving waited for you to present yourself at court."

  Electrified by this greeting to their young spokesman, the officersexaggerated their devotion to the royal cause and from each knot burstexpressions of heroism able to conquer the whole of France.

  These cries flattered Marie Antoinette's secret aspirations, and shemeant to profit by them. She saw herself, in perspective, the leader ofan immense army, and rejoiced over the victory against the civilianswho dared to rebel. Around her, ladies and gentlemen, wild with youth,love and co
nfidence, cheered their brilliant hussars, heavy dragoons,terrible Switzers, and thunderous cannoniers, and laughed at thehome-made spikes fastened on clothes-poles, without dreaming that onthese coarse spears were to be carried the noblest heads of the realm.

  "I am more afraid of a pike than a musket," murmured Princess Lamballe.

  "Because it is uglier, my dear Therese," said the Queen. "But you neednot be alarmed. Our Parisian pikemen are not worth the famous spearmenof Moat, and the good Swiss of this day carry guns much superior to thespears of their forefathers. Thank God, they can fire true with them!"

  "I answer for that," said Bezenval.

  Lady Polignac's disheartenment had no effect beyond saddening her royalmistress. The enthusiasm increased among the rest of the gathering, butwas damped when the King, coming in abruptly, called for his supper!

  The simple word chilled the assemblage. She hoped that he did it toshow how cool he was; but in fact, the son of Saint Louis was hungry.That was all.

  The King was served on a small table in the Queen's sitting-room.While she was trying to revive the fire, he devoured. The officers didnot think this gastronomical exercise worthy of a hero, and looked onas little respectful as they dared to be. The Queen blushed, and herfretfulness was displayed in all her movements. Her fine, nervy, andaristocratic nature could not understand the rule of matter over mind.She went up to him, asking what orders he had to give.

  "Oh, orders," he said, with his mouth full: "Will you not be our Egeriain the pinch?"

  "My lord, Numa was a peaceful King. But at present we think abelligerent one is wanted, and if your Majesty wants to model himselfon an antique pattern, be Romulus if not Tarquin."

  "Are these gentlemen all bellicose, too?" he asked with a tranquillityalmost beatific.

  But his eyes were bloodshot with the animation of the meal and theythought it was courage.

  "Yes, Sire, war?" they chorussed.

  "Gentlemen, you please me greatly by showing that I may rely upon youin case of need. But I have a Council and an appetite. The formeradvises me what to do, the other what I have done, to do."

  And he chuckled while he handed the "Officer of the King's Mouth" thepicked bones and chewed rejecta of his repast on the gold-fringednapkin.

  A murmur of choler and stupor ran through the ranks of the nobles whowere eager to shed their blood for the monarch. The Queen turned asideand stamped her foot. Prince Lambesq came up to her, saying:

  "Your Majesty sees that the King thinks like me that to wait is thebest course. It is prudence, and though not my strong card the best tokeep in hand for the final rubber in the game we play."

  "Yes, my lord, it is a highly necessary virtue," replied she, bitingher lip till the blood came.

  She was roused from her torpor by the sweet voice of Countess JulesPolignar who came up with her sister-in-law Diana, to propose that,as she and her party were hated by the people as the favorites of theQueen, they should be allowed to go out of the kingdom. At first theQueen would not hear of the sacrifice, but she saw that fear was at thebottom of it, and that the King's aunt Adelaide, had suggested it.

  "You are right," she answered; "you run dangers from the rage of apeople who are uncurbed. I cannot accept the devotion which prompts youto stay. I wish, I order you to depart."

  She was choking with emotions mastering her in spite of her heroism,when the King's voice suddenly sounded in her ear. He was at thedessert.

  "Madam," he said, "some one is in your rooms to see you, I am told."

  "Sire," she answered, abjuring all thoughts but of royal dignity, "youhave orders to give. Here are Lords Lambesq, Bezenval and the MarshalDuke Broglie. What orders for your generals?"

  "What do you think of this matter, duke?" he inquired hesitatingly ofold Broglie.

  "Sire, if you retire your troops, the Parisians will say they dauntedthem: if you let them stand they will have to defeat them."

  Lambesq shook his head, but Bezenval and the Queen applauded.

  "Command the forward march," went on the duke.

  "Very well, since you all wish it, let it be march!" said the King.

  "But at this moment a note was passed to the Queen who read:

  "Do not be in a hurry! I await an audience." It was Count Charny'swriting.

  "Is my lord Charny waiting?" she asked of the messenger.

  "Yes; dusty and, I believe, bloody with hard riding."

  "Please to await me a moment," said the Queen to Broglie and theothers, as she hurried into her private apartments.