Calvert of Strathore Part 11

"They are very great gentlemen," returned Adrienne, tossing her head.

"See, there is Monsieur le Duc d'Orleans himself leading the n.o.blesse,"

and she courtesied low, as did the rest of the company, when he looked toward the balcony and bowed.

So that was Monsieur le Duc d'Orleans, the King's cousin, the King's enemy, as many already knew, the wildest, the most dissolute of all the wild, dissolute youth of Paris, the boon companion of the Duke of York, the destroyer of the unfortunate Prince de Lamballes, the hero of a thousand chroniques scandaleuses of the day! As for Calvert, he thought that in spite of the splendid appearance of the royal personage he had never seen a human countenance so repulsive and so depraved. The brutal, languid eye looked out at him from a face whose unwholesome complexion, heavy jaw, and sensual mouth sent a thrill of sickening disgust through him. As he gazed at the retreating figure of the Duke, which, in ifs heaviness and lethargy, bore the mark of excesses as unmistakably as did the coa.r.s.ened face, all the disgraceful stories, the rumors, the anecdotes which he had ever heard concerning this dissipated young prince--for his reputation was only too well known even in America--flashed through his mind.

"And this is one of your great gentlemen?" asked Calvert, looking, not without some sadness, at the haughty beauty beside him, still flushed and smiling at the notice bestowed upon her by Monsieur d'Orleans.

"His Highness the Duc d'Orleans is one of the greatest personages in the kingdom, sir! Tis said, perhaps, that he has been guilty of some indiscretions"--she hesitated, biting her lip, and coloring slightly beneath Calvert's calm gaze--"but surely something must be pardoned to one of his exalted rank; to one who is incapable of any cowardice, of any baseness."

"Since he is of such exalted rank, it seems strange, Madame, that he should walk so far ahead of his order as almost to seem to mingle with the tiers," replied Calvert, quietly. "But I am glad to have such a good report of the Duke, as there are those who have been mistaken enough to doubt his bravery at Ouessant, and, merely to look at him, I confess that I saw many a humble deputy of the tiers who looked, even in his plebeian dress, more the n.o.bleman than he."

"Ah, Monsieur," returned Madame de St. Andre, contemptuously, "I see that you are indeed a republican enrage and hate us for our fine feathers and rank of birth as cordially as these people who applaud the tiers and remain silent before the deputies of the n.o.bles."

"Indeed, you misjudge me, Madame," says Calvert, who could scarce restrain a smile at the lofty manner of the beautiful girl, "as you misjudge the crowd, for 'tis applauding someone among the n.o.blesse now,"

and he stood up and looked over the balcony rail to better see the cause of the shout which had suddenly gone up. "'Tis for Monsieur de Lafayette, I think. See, he is walking yonder, with d'Azay on one side of him and Noailles on the other."

Adrienne leaned over the bal.u.s.trade, and looked down at her brother and Monsieur de Lafayette, who saw her at the same instant. Smiling and bowing, she flung a handful of roses, which she had carried all morning, at the gentlemen, who uncovered and waved her their thanks. As they did so, a sudden blare of trumpets and strains of martial music burst forth, and the black-robed deputies of the clergy appeared, separated into two files by the band of royal musicians.

"'Tis like a play, n'est ce pas?" said Adrienne, gayly, to Mr. Morris, who had again come up, having been dismissed by Madame de Flahaut on the arrival of Monsieur de Curt.

"No, 'tis but the prologue," corrected Mr. Morris, "and the play itself is like enough to be a tragedy, I think," he added, in a low voice, to Calvert.

"And here are the King and Queen at last," cried Madame de St. Andre, as a great cheering went up. Every eye in that vast throng was riveted upon the King, who now appeared, preceded by the Archbishop of Paris carrying the Holy Sacrament under a great canopy, the four corners of which were held by the Dukes of Angouleme and Berry and the King's two brothers, Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois. Near the Holy Sacrament marched the cardinals, bishops, and archbishops elected to the States-General, and in the throng Calvert quickly and easily detected by his halting step his acquaintance, the Bishop of Autun. About His Majesty walked the high officers of the crown, and the enthusiasm of Madame de Stael, which had been on the increase every instant, reached a climax when she recognized Monsieur Necker, conspicuous by his size and bearing, among the entourage of Louis, and, when she courtesied, the obeisance seemed intended more for her father than her King.

"You are wrong to rejoice so greatly," said Madame de Montmorin, laying a timid hand on Madame de Stael's arm, which trembled with excitement.

She had scarce said a word the whole morning and had sat staring with troubled face at the magnificent pageant as it pa.s.sed. "I feel sure that great disasters to France will follow this day's business."

Madame de Stael impatiently shook off the detaining hand. "'Tis the day of days," she cried, enthusiastically, "the day for which my father has labored so long, the day on which will be written the brightest page of French history."

"I verily believe she thinks the States-General are come together to the sole honor and glorification of Monsieur, Necker," whispered Mr.

Morris, in an amused undertone, to Calvert. "But look yonder, to the right of the King! There go our friends of the Palais Royal, the young Duc de Chartres and Monsieur de Beaujolais! Tis strange the Duc d'Orleans is not near the King. He curries favor with the mult.i.tude by abandoning his sovereign on this crucial day and putting himself forward as an elected deputy of the States-General! And there to the left of His Majesty is the Queen with the princesses. Is she not beautiful, Ned?--though Beaufort tells me she has lost much of the brilliancy of her beauty in the last year. Indeed, she has an almost melancholy air,-but I think it is becoming, for otherwise she would be too haughty-looking."

"She has reason to look melancholy, Monsieur," said Madame de Montmorin, in a low tone, and with a glance of deep sympathy at the Queen, who sat rigid, palely smiling in her golden coach. "Did you not know that the Dauphin is very ill? 'Tis little talked about at court, for the Queen will not have the subject mentioned, but he has been ailing for a year past."

As she spoke, the carriage of the Queen pa.s.sed close under the balcony, and at that instant a woman in the crowd, looking Her Majesty full in the face, cried out, shrilly, "Long live d'Orleans!" The pallid Queen sank back, as though struck, into the arms of the Princess de Lamballes, who rode beside her. But in an instant she was herself again, and sat haughtily erect, with a bitter smile curving her beautiful lips.

"A cruel blow!" said Mr. Morris, under his breath, to Calvert. "Her unhappiness was complete enough without that. Arrayed in those rich stuffs, with the flowers in her hair and bosom and with that inscrutable and melancholy expression on her beautiful face, she looks as might have looked some Athenian maiden decked for sacrifice. Indeed, all the n.o.blesse have a curious air of fatality about them, or so it seems to me, and somehow look as if they were going to their doom. Take a good look at this splendid pageant, Ned! 'Tis the first time you have seen royalty, the first time you have seen the n.o.bility in all the magnificence of ceremony. It may be the last."

Mr. Jefferson got up from his place beside Madame de Tesse and came over to where Calvert and Mr. Morris were standing.

"What do you think of the King and Queen?" he asked, in a low voice, laying his hand, in his customary affectionate manner, on Calvert's shoulder. "The King has a benevolent, open countenance, do you not think so?--but the Queen has a haughty, wayward look, and the imperious, unyielding spirit of her Austrian mother."

"She will need all the spirit of her whole family," broke in Mr. Morris, warmly, "if she is to bear up beneath such wanton insults as that just offered her."

"I fear that the hand of Heaven will weigh heavily on that selfish, proud, capricious sovereign, and that she will have to suffer many humiliations," replied Mr. Jefferson, coldly, for he disliked and distrusted Marie Antoinette profoundly, and always believed that she was largely responsible for the terrible disasters which overtook France, and that had Louis been free of her influence and machinations, he had been able to disentangle himself and his kingdom from the fatal coil into which they were drawn.

"As for myself, I can think only that she is a woman and in distress,"

said Mr. Morris, looking after the Queen's coach, which rolled slowly through the crowded street, making a glittering track of light where the noonday sun (for 'twas past twelve o'clock by that time) struck the golden panels. It was followed on one side by a long line of carriages containing the princesses of the blood royal and the ladies-in-waiting to Her Majesty, on the other by the procession of princes, dukes, and gentlemen of the King's household. It was close on one o'clock when the last gilded coach, the last splendid rider, followed by the rabble, who closed in and pushed on behind to the Church of Saint Louis, had pa.s.sed beneath Madame de Tesse's balcony. Some of her guests, having billets for the church reserved for them, entered their carriages and drove thither; the others, being weary with the long wait and excitement of the morning, accepted their hostess's invitation to breakfast, content to hear later of the celebration of ma.s.s in the Church of Saint Louis.

Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Morris, and Calvert were of this party, and, after having promised to be at Versailles early the next morning and to stay for the night at Madame de Tesse's so as to accompany the ladies to the King's reception, they set off for Paris toward four o'clock in the afternoon. As they were about leaving, Beaufort, who had attended ma.s.s, came in, tired and gloomy-looking, and told them that Monseigneur de la Farre had preached a political sermon which the deputies had the bad taste and hardihood to applaud in church and in the presence of His Majesty.

"How dare they so insult the King?" said Madame de St. Andre, pale with anger, to Calvert, who had come up to bid her adieu. "By the way, Mr.

Jefferson tells me he is to present you to their Majesties to-morrow evening," she went on, recovering her composure and smiling somewhat. "I should like to see how an American salutes a king."

"Madame," said Mr. Calvert, quietly, "you forget that I have made my bow to General Washington."

It was not much past six o'clock the next morning when Mr. Calvert and Mr. Jefferson called, in the latter's carriage, for Mr. Morris in the rue de Richelieu, and once more set out for Versailles. As on the preceding day, the road was thronged with coaches, all making their way to the temporary capital. Madame de Flahaut (to whom Mr. Morris bowed very low, though he looked a little piqued when he saw Monsieur de Curt beside her) flashed by in her carriage as they neared Versailles, and a little later Madame de St. Andre, accompanied by Madame de Chastellux and Beaufort pa.s.sed them, bowing and waving to the three gentlemen.

"If it were possible, I should say she looks more beautiful to-day than yesterday, eh, Ned?" said Mr. Morris, looking after Madame de St. Andre, and then giving Calvert a quizzical glance, under which the young man blushed hotly.

"By the way, I overheard your parting conversation yesterday, and I think you rather got the best of the haughty beauty," he went on, laughing. "I am not sure but that the unruffled serenity of your manner before the ladies advances you more in their estimation than does Mr.

Jefferson's evident devotion to them all or my impartial compliments and gallantry. But beware! Madame de St. Andre is no woman if she does not try to retaliate for that retort of yours."

After stopping in the rue Dauphine for the billets, which Madame de Tesse had again been able to obtain for Mr. Morris through the interest of the d.u.c.h.esse d'Orleans, the three gentlemen drove straight to the Salle des Menus Plaisirs, and, by nine o'clock, were seated in the great gallery reserved for visitors. They were fortunate enough to find themselves placed immediately behind Madame de Chastellux, Madame de St.

Andre, and Madame de Flahaut, who had entered together and who were kind enough to point out for the benefit of Mr. Morris and Calvert many of the celebrities in the glittering a.s.semblage. For, early as the hour was, the great balcony was already crowded, while the floor was slowly filling with the deputies ushered in one after the other by Monsieur de Breze with the greatest ceremony. No more brilliant throng had ever come together in that s.p.a.cious Salle des Menus Plaisirs, and a.s.suredly on no more momentous occasion. As Mr. Calvert looked about him at the splendid scene, at the great semicircular hall, with its Ionic columns, at the balcony crowded with thousands of magnificently dressed courtiers and beautiful women, upon whose fair, painted faces and powdered hair the morning sun shone discreetly, its bright rays sifted through a silken awning covering the dome of the great room, at the throng of deputies sharply differentiated by positron and costume, at the empty throne set high above the tribune upon its dais of purple velvet strewn with the golden lilies of the Bourbons; as Mr. Calvert looked at all this--especially as he looked at the empty throne--a curious presentiment of the awful import of the occasion struck in upon him forcibly. Mr. Jefferson, who sat beside him, seemed to read his thought.

"I think this is like to live as one of the most famous scenes in history," he said. "We three are fortunate to be here to see it. Tis the birth-hour of a new nation, if I mistake not. For the first time in two centuries the King meets the three orders of his subjects. Who can foresee what will be the result?"

"I think it is safe to say that the King does not foresee the result, or there would be no meeting," said Mr. Morris, dryly.

"As pessimistic as ever, my dear sir!" retorted Mr. Jefferson, somewhat testily. "Ah, here comes Monsieur Necker."

As the Minister of Finance made his way in, preceded by Monsieur de Breze, a loud cheer went up from every part of the hall. Even the sombre ma.s.s of the tiers roused themselves to enthusiasm, which was redoubled when Monsieur le Duc d'Orleans made his appearance with the clerical deputy from Crepy-en-Valois, who, he insisted, should enter before him.

"Tis like His Highness," whispered Mr. Morris to Calvert. "He is as thirsty for popularity as Lafayette himself."

Though he spoke in a low tone and in English, Madame de St. Andre overheard and understood him.

"You and Mr. Calvert seem to be in a conspiracy to malign His Royal Highness," she said, turning around.

"No, no. If there is a conspirator in the case 'tis Monsieur d'Orleans himself," replied Mr. Morris, meaningly. To this Madame de St. Andre deigned no reply, and, shrugging her beautiful shoulders, turned her back once more to the gentlemen and her attention to the a.s.semblage. Mr.

Calvert, who sat directly behind her, could only see the pink ear and outline of the fair, displeased face thus turned away, but he thought she looked more imperiously lovely and more distant than the painted G.o.ddesses of the Olympian hierarchy who disported themselves, after the artist's fancy, upon the great dome of the hall.

"Madame," he said, leaning over the back of Madame de Chastellux's chair, "can you tell me who is that deputy of the tiers just making his way in? 'Tis the strangest and most terrible face I have ever seen," and he looked hard at the seamed, scarred visage, at the gloomy eyes, shining darkly in their great sockets, at the immense, burly figure of the man who was forcing his way contemptuously past the gallant Monsieur de Breze to a seat among the commoners. As he looked, he was reminded in some fashion of the man Danton whom he had seen in the Cafe de l'Ecole the afternoon he had gone thither with Beaufort.

"It is Monsieur de Mirabeau," said Madame de Chastellux. "There is something terrible in his face, as you say, but there is genius, also, I think," she added.

"He has many talents and every vice, Madame," said Mr. Jefferson, coldly. "A genius if you will, but a man without honor, without probity, erratic, unscrupulous, mercenary, pa.s.sionate. _Cupidus alieni prodigus sui_. Great as are his parts, he will never be able to serve his country, for no dependence can be placed in him. He cannot even further his own interests, for he is his own worst enemy. No a.s.sociation with such a character can be either profitable or permanent. Listen! he is being hissed!" It was true. A faint but perfectly audible murmur of disapprobation went up as Mirabeau took his place among the deputies. As the sound struck on his ear, he turned upon the throng like a lion at bay and glanced about him with eyes which literally seemed to shoot fire and before which all sounds of hatred trembled back into silence.

With conversation, with speculations as to whether the great question of voting par ordre or par tete would be settled by Monsieur Necker in his speech, what policy the King would follow, and with promenades in the great semicircular corridor running around the balcony, did the vast crowd while away the seemingly interminable wait before the court appeared. It was one o'clock when the heralds-at-arms, amid a profound silence, announced the approach of the King and Queen. As His Majesty made his appearance at the door, the silence was broken by tumultuous cries of "Long live the King!" Remembering that day and those prolonged demonstrations of loyalty and affection to His Majesty, Mr. Calvert always considered it the wonderfullest change his life ever saw when, six months later, he was a witness to the sullen animosity and insolence of the crowd toward its sovereign.

When the King had ascended the throne and seated himself (the princes of the blood royal who followed His Majesty being ranged upon the steps of the dais to his right and his ministers below and in front), there was another call from the heralds-at-arms, and Marie Antoinette, beautiful, pallid, and haughty-looking, appeared at the entrance, accompanied by the Princess Royal and the members of her immediate household. Amid a silence unbroken by a single acclamation the Queen took her seat on the King's left and two steps below him.

"Is there no Frenchman here who will raise his voice in greeting to his Queen?" said Mr. Morris, very audibly. But though many hear him, not a sound is made, and at the cruel silence the Queen, her haughtiness giving way for a moment, as it had the day before, wept.

"I could never bear to see beauty in distress. If I were a subject of the Queen she should have one loyal servitor, at least, to wish her well," said Mr. Morris, warmly, to Calvert.

The scene which, before the entrance of the royal party, had lacked its crowning touch, was now brilliant beyond description. To the right of the throne were ranged the princes of the Church, hardly less resplendent in their robes than the secular n.o.bles facing them, while between, forming a perfect foil for this glowing ma.s.s of color and jewels, a sombre spot in the brilliant a.s.semblage, the tiers sat facing their sovereign. It was ominous--or so it seemed to Mr. Calvert--that the tiers should thus divide the two orders naturally most closely allied, and should sit as if in opposition or menace over against their King. And it was to them that the King seemed to speak or rather to read his address, which had been carefully prepared for him and was intentionally so vague that it aroused but little enthusiasm; to them that Monsieur le Garde des Sceaux appealed without great effect; and it was, above all, to the tiers that Monsieur Necker, rising, addressed himself, receiving in turn their warmest plaudits.