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Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 4: Taking the Bastile

<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> THE ARMY OF WOMEN. The Queen was reposing after the day of felicitation. She had her janissaries around her, her cohort of young bravoes, and having reckoned up her foes, she was wishful for the onslaught. Had she not the defeat of the Fourteenth of July, the Loss of the Bastile, to avenge? She treated Andrea with the former friendship for a time deadened in her bosom. But Charny? she only looked where he was when she was forced to give him an order. But this [Pg 181] was no spite against the family, for it was noticed that she paid special attention to young Valence Charny, the hussar who had been given her Austrian rosette at the officers' dinner. Indeed, as he was crossing the gallery to announce to the Master of the Buckhound's that the King would go hunting that day, Marie Antoinette who came out of the chapel, perceived him and greeted him. "The King goes hunting?" she repeated; "what a mistake when the weather is threatening—is it not, Andrea?" "Yes," answered the lady of honor absently. "Where will the chase be?" "In Meudon Wood, my lady." "Well, accompany him and watch over him." At this moment the head of the Charnys appeared. He smiled to Andrea and remarked: "That is advice which my brother will bear in mind during the dangers to the King as well as during his pleasures." At the sound of the voice, for she had not seen him coming, Marie Antoinette started and rejoined with studied rudeness: "I should have been astonished if that speech had come from any but your lordship, for it contains a foreboding." Andrea saw her husband blanch, but he bowed without retort. He noticed her surprise that he bore it so patiently, for he quickly said: "I am most unhappy that I can no longer speak to the Queen without offense." "The 'No longer' was spoken with a fine actor's due stress on the important words in a line. "Speech is only bad when the intention is so," snapped the Queen, through her teeth, locked with anger. "The ear hears hostilely when the mind is hostile," was the repartie of Charny, more aptly than politely. "I shall wait to reply till the Count of Charny is happier in his attacks," went on the Queen. "And I shall wait to attack till the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty is more happy in servitors than lately." [Pg 182] Andrea grasped her husband's hand hastily and prepared to go out of the gallery with him, when a glance from her mistress retained her. "In short, what does your husband have to say to me?" she inquired. "Sent to Paris yesterday by the King, I found it in great turmoil." "Yes, the Parisians are going to pull down the Bastile! The Dutch have taken Holland! Anything fresher, my lord?" "It is true that they are pulling down the prison, but that affords them nothing but stones and they want for bread." "Let them be hungry," said the Queen. "What are we to do in the matter since others rule the roost?" "There was a day when the Queen was the first to be compassionate in times of general distress," said the count; "when she went up into the garrets and the prayers of those she helped rose from the garrets unto God." "Yes, and I have been nicely repaid for this pity for others," returned the lady bitterly. "One of my worst miseries came from my going into a garret." She alluded, of course, to the incident of the "Queen's Necklace," already described in this series. "Because your Majesty was once deceived, is all humanity to be measured by that bushel? Oh, how our gracious lady was loved at that period!" She darted a flaming look at him. "To be brief," she said, "what is happening in the capital? Only tell me what you have actually seen, for I want to depend on the accuracy of your words." "I saw people packed on the waterside waiting for the flour boats; others crowding the bakers' doors, waiting for bread. A famishing people—husbands watching their wives sadly, mothers mourning over their babes. Their fists were clenched and shaken in the direction of Versailles. Alas, I fear that the dangers which my brothers and I are ready to brave, and under which we may die, will not long be forthcoming——" The Queen had leaned on a window sill and with a view of expressing unconcern, she looked out instead of towards the count. They saw her start, and she exclaimed: [Pg 183] "Andrea, who is this rider?—he seems by his speed to bear news in hot haste." Andrea went up, but almost instantly retreated, turning pale, and gasped in reproach: "To call me to see him?" Charny had looked also, and he said: "It is Dr. Gilbert." "So it is," said Marie Antoinette in such a tone that it was not possible to tell whether she had or had not visited on Andrea her personal spite. Gilbert arrived with the sequel to the ominous scenes which Charny described. The famished women had started for Versailles; they were escorted by ragamuffins willing to be shielded by their petticoats and ripe for any deeds. "Seven or eight thousand women," repeated the Queen when Gilbert had delivered his message of coming woe. She spoke with scorn. "But they have been reinforced to double that number on the way. They are hungry and come to ask bread of the King." "Just what I feared," said Charny. "What is to be done?" "Prepare the King to receive them," suggested Gilbert. "Why expose him?" she expostulated, with that bravery and personal consciousness of her traits and of her husband's weakness which ought not to be exhibited before strangers. But were Charny and Gilbert strangers—one destined to guard the King, the other the Queen? The count replied for both, having resumed all his command, for he had sacrificed his pride. "Madam, Dr. Gilbert is right; the King is still loved, he will make a speech and disarm these furies." "But who will apprise the King? he is in Meudon Woods and the ways may be blocked." "Will your Majesty see in me not the courtier but the man of war?" returned the Count, simply. "A soldier is made to be slain." [Pg 184] He did not wait for an answer or to hear the sigh, but rapidly went out and, mounting a guardman's horse, sped away for Meudon. The sky was menacing and rain began to dot the dust, but Versailles was filling with people who had heard a noise like approaching thunder. The soldiers took up their muskets slowly and the horseguards got into the saddle with the hesitation of the soldier when his adversaries are beneath his notice. What could be done against women who had thrown down their weapons on the road and had scarce the power to drag themselves into the town? Half way they had divided eight loaves found at Sevres—thirty-two pounds of bread among seven thousand! Maillard had accompanied them and induced the last who were armed to lay aside their weapons at the first houses of the place. He suggested that they should sing "Long live Henry Fourth!" to show that they had no ill feelings against royalty. They sang in a feeble whine. Great was the amazement at the palace, where the harpies and Furies were expected, to see the tottering singers, hunger giving the giddiness of intoxication, pressing their haggard, thinned, livid, blotched and dusty faces against the gilded bars of the gates, and hanging on by their bony hands. From the weird groups came wails and howls while the dull eyes emitted sparks. Now and again the hands let go the bars to be brandished in threat or held out imploringly. It was a gloomy sight. "What do you want?" challenged St. Priest, Minister of Paris. "Bread," was the cry. "When you had but one master you were never hungry," he replied testily; "you see how you stand since you have twelve hundred." He came away, yelled at while he ordered the gates to be kept closed. But they had soon to be opened to a deputation from Parliament which Maillard had obtained. Unfortunately, Valence Charny with the guards had ridden against the mob. Two women of the twelve with the deputation were [Pg 185] wounded, to whom Charny who had returned to announce the arrival of the King, and Gilbert rushed to assist. "Open the doors," called out the King. "A palace is a sanctuary—it must receive all callers." "An asylum for all but the kings and queens," muttered Marie Antoinette. Deputy Mounier spoke for the deputation while a flowergirl who had started this woman's war by beating the "fall in" on a drum, undertook to address the King. Unfortunately she was so weak that she fainted after gasping: "Bread, my lord!" "Help," cried the King. Andrea ran up with her smelling bottle and Charny gave the Queen a reproachful glance for not having thought of this act. Turning pale, she retired to her own rooms. "Get the coaches ready," she said: "the King and I are going to Rambouillet." Meanwhile the flowergirl, finding herself in the King's arms on coming to her senses, screamed with bashfulness and tried to kiss his hand. "I will give you a kiss, my pretty one," he said; "you are well worth it." "Oh, how good you are! so you will give the order that the grain shall come into Paris to stop the famine?" "I will sign the order, my child," the King said, "though I am afraid it will do no good." Sitting at a table he was about to write when a discharge of fire arms followed a solitary shot. A second charge of cavalry had been made on the women and a man of their supporters had fired a gun to break the arm of Lieutenant Savonnieres of the Guards. He was going to strike a young soldier who was defending with naked hands a woman who had dropped behind him for protection. The bullets from the Lifeguards' carbines had killed one woman; the mob replied and two soldiers were knocked off their horses. At the same time shouts of "Make room for the Guns!" were heard as the Men of St. Antoine's Ward dragged up three [Pg 186] field-pieces which they levelled at the palace gates. Luckily the rain had damped the priming powder and the match. Suddenly a whisper came to Gilbert without his knowing who spoke. "General Lafayette is half an hour's march away and coming." It was a valuable hint. Gilbert ran and caught one of the horses of the dismounted guards, and as he dashed off the other followed his stable-companion. Hearing the hoofs, Gilbert thought he was pursued and looked back over his shoulder. He saw the animal caught by the reins and his throat cut; then the people fell on the carcase with knives and cut it up. While Gilbert was racing to meet Lafayette, who arrived with the National Guards, the King was signing the acceptation of "the Resolution of the Rights of Man," for Mounier, and the older to let grain pass into Paris for Louison Champry the flowergirl. As the first drum beats were heard of the National Guards entering Versailles, the King felt his arm respectfully touched: it was by Andrea. "Sire, the Queen supplicates your Majesty not to wait for the Parisians, but take the head of your Lifeguards and the Flanders Regiment which will cut their way through." "Is this your advice, Count Charny?" "Yes, Sire, if without stopping, you cross the frontier; otherwise, you should stay." The King shook his head; he stayed, not from having courage but because he had not strength to go. "A runaway King," he muttered. "Tell the Queen to depart alone," he said to Andrea who went on her errand. Five minutes afterwards the Queen came and stood by her husband's side. "I have come to die with you," she said unaffectedly. "How handsome she is now;" muttered Charny, but she heard him for she started. "I believe, in all truth, that it is better to die than live!" "Sire," said Dr. Gilbert, running in, "fear nothing now—General Lafayette is here." [Pg 187] The King did not like Lafayette, but there his feelings stopped, while the Queen hated him and let her hate be seen. She took three steps back, but the King stayed her with an imperative gesture. The courtiers formed two groups; Charny and Gilbert stood next the King. Steps were heard up to the door of many persons, but all alone General Lafayette entered. As he did so, some voice exclaimed: "Here comes Cromwell." "No, sir," said the marquis smiling, "Cromwell would not have walked unguarded into the presence of Charles First!" Louis XVI. turned to those imprudent friends who had made an enemy of the man hurrying to his relief. "Count," he said to Charny, "I remain. Now that General Lafayette is here, there is nothing to fear. Retire the troops on Rambouillet. The National Guards will take the outposts and the Lifeguards the palace. Come, general, he said to Lafayette, "I have to confer with you. Come with us, Doctor." he added to Gilbert. "We must get away to-day," thought the Queen, "to-morrow it will be too late." As she was going to her own rooms, she was lighted by a red glare outside the palace; the mob had made a barbecue of the soldiers horses. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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