Marie Antoinette and the Downfall of Royalty Part 14

Roederer, who was at the bar, then made a report in the name of the munic.i.p.al department, in which he explained all that had taken place.

He declared that he had said to the soldiers and National Guard detailed for the defence of the Tuileries: "We do not ask you to shed the blood of your brethren nor to attack your fellow-citizens; your cannons are there for your defence, not for an attack; but I require this defence in the name of the law, in the name of the Const.i.tution.

The law authorizes you, when violence is used against you, to repress it vigorously.... Once more, you are not to be a.s.sailants, but to act on the defensive only."

Roederer added that the cannoneers, instead of complying with his urgent exhortations, gave no response save that of unloading their pieces before him. After having explained how greatly the {302} defence was disorganized, he thus ended his report: "We felt ourselves no longer in a position to protect the charge confided to us; this charge was the King; the King is a man; this man is a father. The children ask us to a.s.sure the existence of the father; the law asks us to a.s.sure the existence of the King of France; humanity asks of us the existence of the man. No longer able to defend this charge, no other idea presented itself than that of entreating the King to come with his family to the National a.s.sembly.... We have nothing to add to what I have just said, except that, our force being paralyzed, and no longer in existence, we can have none but that which it shall please the National a.s.sembly to communicate. We are ready to die in the execution of the orders it may give us. We ask, while awaiting them, to remain near it, being useless everywhere else." The a.s.sembly, not then suspecting that it would so soon depose Louis XVI., applauded without contradiction from the galleries. The president said to Roederer: "The a.s.sembly has listened to your account with the greatest interest; it invites you to be present at the session."

The advice given by Roederer to the King has been greatly blamed. The event has seriously influenced the judgment since pa.s.sed upon it. If Louis XVI. had received the support he had a right to count on from the representatives, things would have appeared in quite another light.

Count de Vaublanc, in his Memoirs, has rendered full justice {303} to the loyal intentions of the munic.i.p.al attorney. "The advice he gave has been accounted a crime," says M. de Vaublanc; "I think it is an unjust reproach. Until then he had done all that lay in his power to contribute to the defence of the palace. He must have seen clearly that as the King would not defend himself, he could no longer be defended. If the rebels had been attacked, neither M. Roederer nor any one else would have proposed going to the a.s.sembly; but since they were on the defensive, and without any recognized leader, the magistrate might doubtless have been struck with a single thought: The King and his family are about to be ma.s.sacred. The King put an end to all irresolution in saying these words: 'There is nothing more to do here.'"

At first, Louis XVI. seemed not to repent of the step he had been obliged to take. Even in that wretched hole, the Logograph box, his face at first was calm and even confident. As the shouting had increased outside, Vergniaud ordered the removal of the iron grating separating this box from the hall, so that in case the populace made an irruption into the lobbies, the King could take refuge in the midst of the deputies. In default of workmen and tools, the deputies nearest at hand, the Duke de Choiseul, Prince de Poix, and the ministers, undertook to tear away the grating, and Louis XVI. himself, accustomed to the rough work of a locksmith, joined his efforts to theirs. The fastenings having been broken in this manner, the unfortunate sovereign seemed not {304} to doubt the sentiments of the National a.s.sembly. He pointed out the most remarkable deputies to the Dauphin, chatted with several among them, and looked on at the session like a mere spectator in a box at the theatre.

The royal family had been nearly two hours at the a.s.sembly when all of a sudden a frightful discharge of musketry and artillery was heard.

The deputies of the left grew pale with fear and anger, thinking themselves betrayed. Casting glances of uneasiness and wrath at the feeble monarch, they accused him of having ordered a ma.s.sacre, and said that all was lost. An officer of the National Guard rushed in, crying: "We are pursued, we are overpowered!" The galleries, affrighted, imagined that the Swiss would arrive at any moment. Excitement was at its height. Sinister, imposing, dreadful moment! Solemn hour, when the monarchy, amidst a frightful tempest, was like a venerable oak which lightning has just stricken; when terror, wrath, and pity disputed the possession of men's souls, and when the King, already captive, was present like Charles V. at his own funeral. Marie Antoinette had started. At the sound of the cannon her cheeks kindled and her eyes blazed. A vague hope animated her. Perhaps, she said within herself, the monarchy is at last to be avenged; perhaps the Swiss are about to give the insurrection a lesson it will remember; perhaps Louis XVI. will re-enter in triumph the palace of his forefathers. The daughter of Caesars prayed G.o.d in silence, and supplicated {305} Him to grant victory to the defenders of the throne.

Chimeras! vain hopes! Louis XVI. has no longer but one idea: to cast off all responsibility for events. He mustered up, so to say, the little authority he had yet remaining, to write hastily, in pencil, the last order he was to sign: the order to stop firing. He flattered himself that the prohibition to shoot would justify him completely in the sight of the National a.s.sembly, and induce them to treat him with more consideration. But he asked himself anxiously who would be bold enough to carry his order as far as the palace. Would not so perilous a mission intimidate even the most heroic? M. d'Hervilly, who was at this moment in the box of the Logograph, offered himself. As the King and Queen at first refused his offer, and pointed out all the dangers of such an errand: "I beg Their Majesties," cried he, "not to think of my danger; my duty is to brave everything in their service; my place is in the midst of the firing, and if I were afraid of it I should be unworthy of my uniform." These words determined Louis XVI. to give M.

d'Hervilly the order signed by his own hand; the valiant n.o.bleman, bearing this order which was to have such disastrous consequences for the defenders of the palace, went hastily out of the a.s.sembly hall and made his way to the Tuileries through a rain of b.a.l.l.s and canister.

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x.x.x.

THE COMBAT.

What had taken place at the Tuileries after the departure of the royal family for the a.s.sembly? At the very moment when they abandoned this palace which they were never to see again, the Ma.r.s.eillais, the vanguard of the insurrection, were pounding at the gate of the princ.i.p.al courtyard, furious because it was not opened. A few minutes later, the column of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, after pa.s.sing through the rue Saint-Honore, debouched on the Carrousel. It was under command of the Pole, Lazouski, and Westermann, who directed it toward the gate of the Royal Court. As the Ma.r.s.eillais had not yet succeeded in forcing this, Westermann had it broken open. The cannoneers, whose business it was to defend the palace, at once declared on the side of the riot and turned their pieces against the Tuileries. With the exception of the domestics there were now in the palace only the seven hundred and fifty Swiss, about a hundred National Guards, and a few n.o.bles. The sole instructions the Swiss received came from old Marshal de Mailly: "Do not let yourselves be taken." Louis XVI. had said absolutely nothing on going {307} away, and his departure discouraged his most faithful adherents. Add to this that the Swiss had not enough cartridges. What was to be the fate of this fine regiment, this _corps d'elite_, which everywhere and always had set the example of discipline and military honor; which ever since the Revolution began had haughtily repulsed every attempt to tamper with it; and whose red uniforms alone struck terror into the populace? These brave soldiers guarded respectfully the traditions of their ancestors who, at the famous retreat of Meaux, had saved Charles IX. "But for my good friends the Swiss," said that prince, "my life and liberty would have been in a bad way." What the Swiss of the sixteenth century had done for one King of France, the Swiss of the eighteenth century would have done for his successor. They would have saved Louis XVI. if he would have let himself be saved.

A major-general who had remained at the Tuileries, judging that it was impossible to defend the courts with so few soldiers, cried: "Gentlemen, retire to the palace!" "They had to leave six cannon in the power of the enemy and to abandon the courts. It should have been foreseen that it would be necessary to retake these under penalty of being burned in the palace; the common soldiers said so loudly.

Meanwhile they obeyed, and were disposed as well as time and the localities permitted. The stairs and windows were lined with soldiers." (Account of Colonel Pfyffer d'Altishoffen, published at Lucerne in 1819.)

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One post occupied the chapel, and another the vestibule and grand staircase. There were Swiss also at the windows looking into the courts. "Down with the Swiss!" cried the Ma.r.s.eillais. "Down! down!

Surrender!" However, the struggle had not yet begun. Nearly fifteen minutes elapsed between the invasion of the Royal Court and the first shot. The Ma.r.s.eillais brandished their pikes and guns, but they were not confident, for at first they dared not cross the court more than half-way. The Swiss and National Guards who were at the windows made gestures to induce the populace to quiet down and go away. The throng of insurgents grew greater every minute. They had just got their cannon into battery against the Tuileries. What the Swiss specially intended was to defend the grand staircase, so as to prevent the apartments on the first floor from being invaded. This staircase, afterwards destroyed, was in the middle of the vestibule of the Horloge Pavilion. The chapel, whose site was afterwards changed, was on the level of the first landing; and from this landing, two symmetrical flights, at right angles with the first, led to the Hall of the Hundred Swiss (the future Hall of the Marshals). Westermann, bolder than the other insurgents, had advanced as far as the vestibule with several Ma.r.s.eillais. He began to parley with the soldiers, trying to set them against their officers and induce them to lay down their arms.

Sergeant Blazer answered Westermann: "We are Swiss, and the Swiss only lay down their weapons with their lives."

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The officers caused a barricade of pieces of wood to be raised on the first landing at the head of the stairs, to prevent new deputations from coming to demoralize their men. The Ma.r.s.eillais attempted to take it by main force. Some of them were armed with halberds terminating in hooks. These they thrust below the barricade, trying to catch the men defending it. They seized an adjutant in this way and disarmed him.

At the foot of the stairs "they seized the first Swiss sentry and afterwards five others. They laid hold of them with hooked pikes which they thrust into their coats and drew them forwards, disarming them at once of their sabres, guns, and cartridge-boxes, amidst shouts of laughter. Encouraged by the success of this forlorn hope, the whole crowd pressed towards the foot of the stairs and there ma.s.sacred the five Swiss already taken and disarmed." (M. Peltier's Relation.) Then a pistol-shot was heard. From which side did it come? Was it the Ma.r.s.eillais who provoked the combat? Was it the Swiss who sought to avenge their comrades, the sentries? Whoever it was, this pistol-shot was the signal for the fight, which began about half-past ten in the morning.

At first the Swiss had the advantage. Every shot they fired from the windows told. Among the people crowding the courtyards were many who had not come to fight, but through mere curiosity. Pale with fright, they fled toward the Carrousel through the gate of the Royal Court, which was strewn in an {310} instant with guns, pikes, and cartridge-boxes. Some of the insurgents fell flat on their faces and counterfeited death, rising occasionally and gliding along the walls to gain the sentry-boxes of the mounted sentinels as best they could.

Even the majority of the cannoneers deserted their pieces and ran like the rest. The courts were cleared in an instant. Two Swiss officers, MM. de Durler and de Pfyffer, instantly made a sortie at the head of one hundred and twenty soldiers, took four cannon, and found themselves once more masters of the door of the Royal Court. A detachment of sixty soldiers formed themselves into a hollow square before this door and kept up a rolling fire on the rioters remaining on the Carrousel until the place was completely swept. At the same time, on the side of the garden, another detachment of Swiss, under Count de Salis, seized three cannon and brought them to the palace gate. Napoleon, who witnessed the combat from a distance, says: "The Swiss handled their artillery with vigor; in ten minutes the Ma.r.s.eillais were chased as far as the rue de l'Ech.e.l.le, and never came back until the Swiss were withdrawn by the King's order."

It was now, in fact, that M. d'Hervilly arrived, hatless and unarmed, through the fusillade of grape. They wanted to show him the dispositions they had just made on the garden side. "There is no question of that," said he; "you must go to the a.s.sembly; it is the King's order." The unfortunate soldiers flattered themselves that they might still {311} be of use. "Yes, brave Swiss," cried Baron de Viomesnil, "go and find the King. Your ancestors did so more than once." In spite of their chagrin at abandoning the field of which they they had just become masters, they obeyed. Their only thought was to repair to that a.s.sembly where a last humiliation awaited them. The officers had the drums beat the call to arms, and, in spite of the rain of b.a.l.l.s from every side, they succeeded in marshalling the soldiers as if for a dress parade in front of the palace, opposite the garden. The signal for departure was given. An unforeseen peril was reserved for these heroes. The battalions of the National Guard, stationed at the door of the Pont Royal, at that of the Manege court, and the beginning of the terrace of the Feuillants, had stood still, with their weapons grounded, since the affray began. But hardly had the Swiss entered the grand alley than these battalions, neutral until now, detailed a number of individuals who hid behind the trees, and fired, with their muzzles almost touching the troops. On reaching the middle of the alley, the Swiss, who hardly deigned to return this fire, divided into two columns. The first, turning to the right under the trees, went towards the staircase leading to the a.s.sembly from the terrace of the Feuillants. The second, which followed at a short distance and acted as a rearguard, went on as far as the Place Louis XV., where it found the mounted gendarmes. If this body of cavalry had done its duty, it would have united with the {312} Swiss. But, far from that, it declared for the insurrection, and sabred them. It is said that the officers and soldiers killed in this retreat across the garden were interred at the foot of the famous chestnut whose exceptional forwardness has earned the surname of the tree of March 20. Thus the Bonapartist tree of popular tradition owes its astonishing strength of vegetation solely to the human compost furnished by the corpses of the last defenders of royalty.

The first column, that which was on its way to the a.s.sembly, presented itself resolutely in front of the terrace of the Feuillants, which was full of people. These took flight, and the Swiss entered the corridors of the a.s.sembly. Carried away by his zeal, one of their officers, Baron de Salis, entered the hall with his naked sword in his hand. The left uttered a cry of affright. A deputy went out to order the commander, Baron de Durler, to make his troop lay down their arms. M.

de Durler, having refused, he was conducted to the King. "Sire," said he, with sorrowful indignation, "they want me to lay down arms." Louis XVI. responded: "Put them in the hands of the National Guard; I am not willing that brave men like you should perish." To surrender arms!

Did Louis XVI. fully comprehend that for soldiers like these such an outrage was a hundred times worse than death? The King's words were like a thunderbolt to them. They wept with rage. "But," said they, "even if we have no more cartridges, we can still defend ourselves with our {313} bayonets!" Such devotion, such courage, such discipline, such heroism to end like this! And yet the unfortunate Swiss, though grieved to the heart, resigned themselves to the last sacrifice their master required from their fidelity, laid down their arms, and were imprisoned in the ancient church of the Feuillants, to the number of about two hundred and fifty. It was all that remained of this magnificent regiment. The others had been killed in the garden or had their throats cut in the palace, and the greater part of the survivors were to be a.s.sa.s.sinated in the ma.s.sacres of September.

"Thus ended the French King's regiment of Swiss Guards, like one of those st.u.r.dy oaks whose prolonged existence has affronted so many storms, and which nothing but an earthquake can uproot. It fell the very day on which the ancient French monarchy also fell. It counted more than a century and a half of faithful services rendered to France.

To destroy this worthy corps a combination of unfortunate events had been required; it had been necessary to deprive the Swiss of their artillery, their ammunition, their staff, and the presence of the King; to enfeeble them five days before the combat by sending away a detachment of three hundred men; to forbid the two hundred men who accompanied the King to the a.s.sembly to fire a shot; to render useless the wise dispositions of MM. de Maillardoz and de Bachmann by an ill-advised order at the moment of the attack; and to have M.

d'Hervilly come at {314} the moment of victory to divide and enfeeble the defence." (Relation of Colonel Pfyffer d'Altishoffen.)

The Swiss republic has honored the memory of these sons who died for a king. At the entrance of Lucerne, in the side of a rock, a grotto has been hollowed out, in which may be seen a colossal stone lion, the work of Thorwaldsen, the famous Danish sculptor. This lion, struck by a lance, and lying down to die, holds tight within his claws the royal escutcheon upon a shield adorned with fleurs-de-lis. Underneath the lion are engraved the names of the Swiss officers and soldiers who died between August 10 and September 2, 1792. Above it may be read this inscription cut in the rock:--

HELVETIORUM FIDEI AC VIRTUTI.

_To the fidelity and courage of the Swiss._

Louis XVI. had to repent his weakness bitterly. The wretched monarch had at last reached the bottom of the abyss where the slippery descent of concessions ends, and for having been willing to spare the blood of a few criminals, he was to see that of his most loyal and faithful adherents shed in torrents. It is said that Napoleon, who witnessed the combat from a distance, cried several times, in speaking of Louis XVI.: "What, then, wretched man! Have you no cannon to sweep out this rabble?" Behind the people of the 10th of August, the man of Brumaire already appeared as a conqueror.

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Work away, then, insurgents! This unknown young man, this "straight-haired Corsican," hidden in the crowd, will be the master of you all! He will crush the Revolution, he will made himself all-powerful in that palace of the Tuileries where the riot is lording it at this moment! And after him, the brother of the King whom you insult to-day and will kill to-morrow, the Count de Provence, that _emigre_ who is the object of your hatred, will triumphantly enter the palace of his forefathers. And each of them in his turn, the Corsican gentleman and the brother of Louis XVI., will be received with the same transports in that fatal palace which is now red with the blood of the Swiss! How surprised these people would be if they could foresee what the future has in store for them! Among these frenzied demagogues, these ultra-revolutionists, these dishevelled Ma.r.s.eillais with lips blackened by powder, and jackets all blood, how many will be the fanatical admirers and soldiers of a Caesar!

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x.x.xI.

THE RESULTS OF THE COMBAT.

The results of the combat were, at the a.s.sembly, the decree of suspension, or, rather, the decree of deposition; at the Tuileries, devastation, ma.s.sacre, and conflagration. From the moment when he ordered his last defenders to lay down their arms, Louis XVI. was but the phantom of a king.

While the fight was going on, Robespierre had remained in hiding; Marat had not quitted the bottom of a cellar. Even Danton, the man of "audacity," did not show himself until after the last shot had been fired. But now that fate had declared for the Revolution, those who were trembling and hesitating a moment since, were those who talked the loudest. Louis XVI., who had been dreaded a few minutes ago, was insulted and jeered at. The National a.s.sembly, royalist in the morning, became the accomplice of the republicans during the day. It perceived, moreover, that the 10th of August was aimed at it not less than at the throne, and that its own downfall would be contemporaneous with that of royalty.

Huguenin, the president of the new Commune, came boldly to the bar, and said to the deputies: {317} "The people is your sovereign as well as ours!" Another individual, likewise at the bar, exclaimed in a menacing tone: "For a long time the people has asked you to p.r.o.nounce the deposition, and you have not even yet p.r.o.nounced the suspension!

Know that the Tuileries is on fire, and that we shall not extinguish it until the vengeance of the people has been satisfied!" Vergniaud, who in the morning had promised the King the support of the a.s.sembly, no longer even attempted to stem the revolutionary tide. He came down from the president's chair, and went to a desk to write the decree which should give a legislative form to the will of the insurrection.

In virtue of this decree, which Vergniaud read from the tribune, and which was unanimously adopted, the royal power was suspended and a National Convention convoked. In reality this was a veritable deposition, and yet the a.s.sembly still hesitated to give the last shock which should uproot the royal tree that had sheltered beneath its branches so many faithful generations. It declared that in default of a civil list, a salary should be granted to the King during his suspension; that Louis XVI. and his family should have a palace, the Luxembourg, for a residence, and that he should be appointed governor of the Prince-royal.

Concerning this, Madame de Stael has remarked in her _Considerations sur les princ.i.p.aux evenements de la Revolution francaise_: "Ambition for power mingled with the enthusiasm of principles in the republicans {318} of 1792, and several among them offered to maintain royalty if all the ministerial places were given to their friends.... The throne they attacked served to shelter them, and it was not until after they had triumphed that they found themselves exposed before the people."

What the Girondins wanted was merely a change in the ministry; it was not a revolution. Vergniaud felt that he had been distanced. When he read the act of deposition, his voice was sad, his att.i.tude dejected, and his action feeble. Did he foresee that the King and himself would die at the same place, on the same scaffold, and only nine months apart?

Louis XVI. listened to the invectives launched against him, and to the decree depriving him of royal power, without a change of color. At the very moment when the vote was taken, he bent towards Deputy Coustard, who sat beside the box of the _Logographe_, and said with the greatest tranquillity: "What you are doing there is not very const.i.tutional."

Impa.s.sive, and speaking of himself as of a king who had lived a thousand years before, he leaned his elbows on the front of the box, and looked on, like a disinterested spectator, at the lugubrious spectacle that was unrolled before him.

Marie Antoinette, on the contrary, was shuddering. So long as the combat lasted, a secret hope had thrilled her. But when she saw them bringing to the a.s.sembly and laying on the table the jewel-cases, trinkets, and portfolios which the insurgents had just {319} taken from her bedroom at the Tuileries; when she heard the victorious cries of the rioters; when Vergniaud's voice sounded in her ears like a funeral knell--she could hardly contain her grief and indignation. For one instant she closed her eyes. But presently she haughtily raised her head.

The tide was rising, rising incessantly. Pet.i.tioners demanded sometimes the deposition, and sometimes the death, of the King. This dialogue was overheard between the painter David and Merlin de Thionville, who were talking together about Louis XVI.: "Would you believe it? Just now he asked me, as I was pa.s.sing his box, if I would soon have his portrait finished."--"Bah! and what did you say?"--"That I would never paint the portrait of a tyrant again until I should have his head in my hat."--"Admirable! I don't know a more sublime answer, even in antiquity."

The demands of the Revolution grew greater from minute to minute. In the decree of deposition which had been voted on Vergniaud's proposition, it was stipulated that the ministers should continue to exercise their functions. A few instants later, Brissot caused it to be decreed that they had lost the nation's confidence. A new ministry was nominated during the session. The three ministers dismissed before June 20--Roland, Claviere, and Servan--were reinstalled by acclamation in the ministries of the Interior, of Finances, and of War. The other ministers were chosen by ballot: Danton was nominated to that {320} of Justice by 282 votes, Monge to the Marine by 150, and Lebrun-Tondu to Foreign Affairs by 100. This ballot established the fact that out of the 749 members composing the a.s.sembly, but 284 were present. Two days before, 680 had voted on the question concerning Lafayette, and now, at the moment of the final crisis, not more than 284 could be found! All the others had disappeared, through fear or through disgust. The Revolution was accomplished by an a.s.sembly thus reduced, and a Commune whose members had appointed themselves. Marie Antoinette, in her pride as Queen, was unable to conceive that there could be anything serious in such a government. When Lebrun-Tondu's appointment was announced, she leaned towards Bigot de Sainte-Croix, and said in his ear: "I hope you will none the less believe yourself Minister of Foreign Affairs."

The unfortunate royal family were still prisoners in the narrow box of the _Logographe_. The heat there was horrible: the sun scorched the white walls of this furnace where the captives listened, as in a place of torture, to the most ign.o.ble insults and the most sanguinary threats.

At seven o'clock in the evening, Count Francois de la Rochefoucauld succeeded in approaching the box of the _Logographe_. He thus describes its aspect at this hour: "I approached the King's box; it was unguarded except by some wretches who were drunk and paid no attention to me, so that I half-opened the door. I saw the King with a fatigued and {321} downcast face; he was sitting on the front of the box, coldly observing through his lorgnette the scoundrels who were talking, sometimes one after another, and sometimes all together. Near him was the Queen, whose tears and perspiration had completely drenched her fichu and her handkerchief. The Dauphin was asleep on her lap, and resting partly also on that of Madame de Tourzel. Mesdames Elisabeth, de Lamballe, and Madame the King's daughter were at the back of the box. I offered my services to the King, who replied that it would be too dangerous to try to see him again, and added that he was going to the Luxembourg that evening. The Queen asked me for a handkerchief; I had none; mine had served to bind up the wounds of the Viscount de Maille, whom I had rescued from some pikemen. I went out to look for a handkerchief, and borrowed one from the keeper of the refreshment-room; but as I was taking it to the Queen, the sentinels were relieved, and I found it impossible to approach the box."