CHAPTER XIX.
THE DOLOROUS WAY.
In the meantime the Royal Family continued on the road to Paris.
They advanced slowly, for the carriage could not move but at the gaitof the escort, and that was composed mostly of men on foot. Their rankswere filled up with women and children, the women lifting their babes upin their arms to see the King dragged back to the capital: probably theywould never have seen him under other circumstances.
The coach and the cab with the ladies in waiting, seemed in the humansea like a ship with her tender. Incidents stirred up the sea intoheaving furiously at times when the coach disappeared under the billowsand appeared very slow to emerge.
Though it was six miles to Clermont where they arrived, the terribleescort did not lessen in number as those who dropped off were replacedby new-comers from the countryside who wanted to have a peep at theshow.
Of all the captives on and in this ambulatory prison the worst exposedto the popular wrath and the plainest butt of the menaces were theunhappy Lifeguards on the large box seat; as the order of the NationalAssembly made the Royal Family inviolable, the way to vent spite on themby proxy, was to plague these men. Bayonets were continually held totheir breasts, some scythes, really Death's, gleamed over their heads,or some spear glided like a perfidious serpent, in the gaps to piercethe flesh with its keen sting and return to the wielder disgusted thathe had not drawn more blood.
All at once they saw a man without hat or weapon, his clothing smearedwith mud and dust, split the crowd. After having addressed a respectfulbow to the King and the Queen, he sprang upon the forepart of thecarriage and from the trace-chain hooks upon the box between the twoLifeguards.
The Queen's outcry was of fear, joy and pain. She had recognized Charny.
Fear, for what he did was so bold that it was a miracle he had reachedthe perch without receiving some wound. Joy, for she was happy to seethat he had escaped the unknown dangers he must have run, all thegreater as imagination was outstripped by the reality. Pain, for shecomprehended that Charny's solitary return implied that nothing was tobe expected from Bouille.
In fact, while Charny had reached the royalists at Grange-au-Bois on ahorse he picked up on the road, his attempt to guide the army ended infailure: a canal which he had not noted down in his survey, perhaps cutsince then, was brimful of water and he nearly lost his life, as he didhis horse, in trying to swim across it. All he could do, on scramblingout on the other side from his friends, was to wave them a farewell,for he understood that the cavaliers as a mass could not succeed wherehe had fallen short.
Confounded by the audacity of this recruit to the lost cause, the mobseemed to respect him for this boldness.
At the turmoil, Billet, who was riding at the head, turned andrecognized the nobleman.
"Ha, I am glad that nothing happened him," he said: "but woe towhomsoever tries this again, for he shall certainly pay for the two."
At two of the afternoon they arrived at St. Menehould.
Loss of sleep and weariness was telling on all the prisoners, butparticularly on the Dauphin, who was feverish and wanted to be undressedand put to bed, as he was not well, he said.
But St. Menehould was the place most enraged against the Royal Family.So no attention was paid to the King who ordered a stop. A contradictoryorder from Billet led to the change of horses being hooked on the pole.
The Queen could not withstand her child's complaints and holding thelittle prince up at the window to show him to the people, shivering andin tears, she said:
"Gentlemen, in pity for this boy, stop!"
"Forward, March!" shouted Billet.
"Forward," repeated the people.
Billet passed the carriage window to take his place in the front whenthe Queen appealed to him:
"For shame, sir, it is plain, I repeat that you never were a father."
"And I repeat, madam, that I was a father once, but am one no longer."
"Do as you will, for you are the stronger: but beware! for no voicecries more loudly to heaven than that of these little ones!"
The procession went on again.
It was cruel work passing through the town. If kings could learn anything, the enthusiasm excited by sight of Drouet, to whom the arrest wasdue, would have been a dreadful lesson; but both captives saw merelyblind fury in the cheers; they saw but rebels in these patriots whowere convinced that they were saving their country.
Perhaps it was the King's impression that Paris alone was perverted thaturged him into the evil course. He had relied on "his dear provinces."But here were the dear rurals not only escaping him but turningpitilessly against him. The country folk had frightened Choiseul inSommevelle, imprisoned Dandoins at St. Menehould, fired on Damas atClermont, and lately killed Isidore Charny under the royal eyes. Allclasses rose against him.
It would have cut him worse had he seen what the spreading news did;roused all the country to come--not to stare and form an escort--but tokill him. The harvest was so bad that this country was called "BlankChampagne," and here came the King who had brought in the thievishhussar and the pillaging pandour to trample the poor fields under theirhorses' hoofs; but the carriage was guarded by an angel and two cherubs.
Lady Elizabeth was twenty-seven but her chastity had kept the unfadingbrilliancy of youth on her brow: the Dauphin, ailing and shivering onhis mother's knee; the princess fair as the blondes can be, looking outwith her firm while astonished gaze.
These men saw these, the Queen bent over her boy, and the Kingdownhearted: and their anger abated or sought another object on which toturn it.
They yelped at the Lifeguardsmen; insulted them, called those noble anddevoted hearts traitors and cowards, while the June sun made a fieryrainbow in the chalky dust flung up by the endless train upon thosehotheads, heated by the cheap wine of the taverns.
Half a mile out of the town, an old Knight of St. Louis was seengalloping over the fields; he wore the ribbon of the order at hisbuttonhole: as it was first thought that he came from sheer curiosity,the crowd made room for him. He went up to the carriage window, hat inhand, saluted the King and the Queen, and hailed them as Majesties. Thepeople had measured true force and real majesty, and were indignant atthe title being given away from them to whom it was due; they began togrumble and threaten.
The King had already learnt what this growl portended from hearing itaround the house at Varennes.
"Sir Knight," he said to the old chevalier, "the Queen and myself aretouched by this publicly expressed token of your devotion; but in God'sname, get you hence--your life is not safe."
"My life is the King's, and the finest day of it will be when laid downfor the King."
Hearing this speech, some growled.
"Retire," said the King. "Make way there, my friends, for ChevalierDampierre."
Those near who heard the appeal, stood back. But unfortunately thehorseman was squeezed in and used the whip and spur on the animal unableto move freely. Some trodden-on women screamed, a frightened childcried, and on the men shaking their fists the old noble flourished hiswhip. Thereupon the growl changed to a roar: the grand popular andleonine fury broke forth.
Dampierre was already on the edge of the forest of men; he drove in bothspurs which made the steed leap the ditch where it galloped across thecountry. He turned, and waving his hat, cried: "God save the King!"--afinal homage to his sovereign but a supreme insult to the people.
Off went a gun. He pulled a pistol from his holsters and returned thefire. Everyone who had firearms, let fly at him. The horse fell, riddledwith bullets.
Nobody ever knew whether the man was slain outright or not by thisdreadful volley. The multitude rushed like an avalanche where riderand steed had dropped, some fifty paces from the royal carriage: oneof those tumults arose such as surge upon a dead body in battle: then,out of the disordered movements, the shapeless chaos, the gulf of yellsand cheers, up rose a pike surmounted by the white head of the lucklessChevalier Dampierre.
> The Queen screamed and threw herself back in the vehicle.
"Monsters, cannibals, assassins!" shouted Charny.
"Hold your tongue, count," said Billet, "or I cannot answer for you."
"What matters? I am tired of life. What can befall me worse than my poorbrother?"
"Your brother was guilty and you are not," replied Billet.
Charny started to jump down from the box but the other Lifeguardrestrained him, while twenty bayonets bristled to receive him.
"Friends," said the farmer in his strong and imposing voice, as hepointed to Charny, "whatever this man says or does, never heed--I forbida hair of his head being touched. I am answerable for him to his wife."
"To his wife," muttered the Queen, shuddering as though one of the steelpoints menacing her beloved had pricked her heart, "why does he say tohis wife?"
Billet could not have himself told. He had invoked the name of thecount's wife, knowing how powerful such a charm is over a mob composedmainly of men with wives.
They were late reaching Chalons, where the King, in alighting at thehouse prepared for the family, heard a bullet whizz by his ear.
Was it an accident where so many were inexperienced in arms or anattempt at regicide?
"Some clumsy fellow," said he coolly: "gentlemen, you ought to becareful--an accident soon happens."
Apart from this shot, there was a calmer atmosphere to step into. Theuproar ceased at the house door: murmurs of compassion were heard; thetable was laid out with elegance astonishing the captives. There wereservants also, but Charny claimed their work for himself and the otherLifeguards, hiding under the pretended humility, the intention to stayclose to the King for any event.
Marie Antoinette understood this; but in her heart rumbled Billet'swords about Charny's wife, like a storm brewing.
Charny, whom she had expected to take away from France, to live abroadwith her, was now returning to Paris to see his wife Andrea again!
He was ignorant of this ferment in her heart, from not supposing she hadheard the words; besides, he was busy over some freshly conceived hopes.Having been sent in advance to study the route he had conscientiouslyfulfilled his errand. He knew the political tone of even each village.Chalons had a royalist bias from it being an old town, without trade,work or activity, peopled by nobles, retired business men and contentedcitizens.
Scarcely were the royal party at table than the County Lieutenant, whosehouse they were in, came to bow to the Queen, who looked at him uneasilyfrom having ceased to expect anything good, and said:
"May it please your Majesty to let the maids of Chalons offer flowers?"
"Flowers?" repeated she, looking with astonishment from him to LadyElizabeth. "Pray, let them come."
Shortly after, twelve young ladies, the prettiest they could find in thetown, tripped up to the threshold where the Queen held out her arms tothem. One of them who had been taught a formal speech, was so effectedby this warm greeting that she forgot it all and stammered the generalopinion:
"Oh, your Majesty, what a dreadful misfortune!"
The Queen took the bunch of flowers and kissed the girl.
"Sire," whispered Charny to the King meanwhile, "something good may bedone here; if your Majesty will spare me for an hour, I will go out andinquire how the wind turns."
"Do so, but be prudent," was the reply: "I shall never console myself ifharm befalls you. Alas, two deaths are enough in one family."
"Sire, my life is as much the King's as my brothers'."
In the presence of the monarch his stoicism could be worn but he felthis grief when by himself.
"Poor Isidore," he muttered, while pressing his hand to his breast tosee if he still had in the pocket the papers of the dead handed him byCount Choiseul, which he had promised himself to read as he would thelast will of his loved one.
Behind the girls came their parents, almost all nobles or members of theupper middle class; they came timidly and humbly to crave permission tooffer their respect to their unfortunate sovereigns. They could hardlybelieve that they had seen the unfortunate Dampierre hewn to piecesunder their eyes a while before.
Charny came back in half an hour. It was impossible for the keenest eyeto read the effect of his reconnoitre on his countenance.
"All is for the best, Sire," replied he to the King's inquiry. "TheNational Guard offer to conduct your Majesty to-morrow to Montmedy."
"So you have arranged some course?"
"With the principal citizens. It is a church feast to-morrow so thatthey cannot refuse your request to go to hear service. At the churchdoor a carriage will be waiting which will receive your Majesties; amidthe cheering you will give the order to be driven to Montmedy and youwill be obeyed."
"That is well," said Louis: "thank you, count, and we will do this ifnothing comes between. But you and your companions must take some rest;you must need it more than we."
The reception was not prolonged far into the night so that the RoyalFamily retired about nine. A sentinel at their door let them see thatthey were still regarded as prisoners. But he presented arms to them. Byhis precise movement the King recognized an old soldier.
"Where have you served, my friend?" he inquired.
"In the French Guards, Sire," answered the veteran.
"Then I am not surprised to see you here," returned the monarch; for hehad not forgotten that the French Guards had gone over to the people onthe 13th July, 1789.
This sentinel was posted at their sleeping room door. An hourafterwards, he asked to speak with the leader of the escort, who wasBillet, on his being relieved of guard-mounting. The farmer was takingsupper with the rustics who flocked in from all sides and endeavoringto persuade them to stay in town all night. But most of them had seenthe King, which was mainly what led them, and they wanted to celebratethe holiday at home. He tried to detain them because the aristocratictendency of the old town alarmed him.
It was in the midst of this discussion that the sentinel came to talkwith him. They conversed in a low voice most lively.
Next, Billet sent for Drouet, and they held a similar conference. Afterthis they went to the postmaster, who was Drouet's friend, and the sameline of business made them friendlier still.
He saddled two horses and in ten minutes Billet was galloping on theroad to Rheims and Drouet to Vitry.
Day dawned. Hardly six hundred men remained of the numerous escort, andthey were fagged out, having passed the night on straw they had broughtalong, in the street. As they shook themselves awake in the dawn theymight have seen a dozen men in uniform enter the Lieutenancy Office andcome out hastily shortly after.
Chalons was headquarters for the Villeroy Company of Lifeguards, andten or twelve of the officers came to take orders from Charny. He toldthem to don full dress and be on their horses by the church door for theKing's exit. These were the uniformed men whom we have seen.
Some of the peasants reckoned their distance from home in the morningand to the number of two hundred more or less they departed, in spite oftheir comrades' pleadings. This reduced the faithful to a little overfour hundred only.
To the same number might be reckoned the National Guards devoted to theKing, without the Royal Guards officers and those recruited, a forlornhope which would set the lead in case of emergency.
Besides, as hinted, the town was aristocratic.
When the word was sent to Billet and Drouet to hear what they said aboutthe King and the Queen going to hear mass, they could not be found andnothing therefore opposed the desire.
The King was delighted to hear of the absence but Charny shook his head:he did not know Drouet's character but he knew Billet's.
Nevertheless all the augury was favorable, and indeed the King not onlycame out of church amid cheers but the royalist gathering had assumedcolossal proportions.
Still it was not without apprehension that Charny encouraged the King tomake up his mind.
He put his head out of the carriage window and said:
"Ge
ntlemen, yesterday at Varennes, violence was used against me; I gavethe order to be driven to Montmedy but I was constrained to go towardsa revolted capital. Then I was among rebels, but now I am among honestsubjects, to whom I repeat, 'To Montmedy!'"
"To Montmedy!" echoed Charny and the others shouted the same, and to thechorus of "Long live the King!" the carriage was turned round and retookthe road it had yesterday travelled.
In the absence of Billet and Drouet the rustics seemed commanded by theFrench Guardsman who had stood sentry at the royal door. Charny watchedand saw that he made his men wheel and mutely follow the movementthough the scowls showed that they did not approve of it. They let theNational Guards pass them, and massed in their rear as a rearguard.In the foremost ranks marched the pike and spear-men: then fifty whocarried muskets and fowling pieces manoeuvring so neatly that Charny wasdisquieted: but he could not oppose it and he was unable to understandit.
He was soon to have the explanation.
As they approached the town gates, spite of the cheering, they heardanother sound like the dull rolling of a storm. Suddenly Charny turnedpale and laid his hand on the Lifeguard next him.
"All is lost," he gasped: "do you not hear that drum?"
They turned the corner into a square where two streets entered. One camefrom Rheims the other from Vitry, and up each was marching a column ofNational Guards; one numbered eighteen hundred, the other more than twothousand. Each was led by a man on horseback. One was Billet, the otherDrouet.
Charny saw why they had disappeared during the night. Fore-warned nodoubt, of the counteraction in preparation, they had gone off forreinforcements. They had concerted their movements so as to arrivesimultaneously. They halted their men in the square, completely blockingthe road. Without any cries, they began to load their firearms. Theprocession had to stop.
"What is the matter?" asked the King, putting his head out of thewindow, of Charny, pale and gritting his teeth.
"Why, my lord, the enemy has gone for reinforcements and they standyonder, loading their guns, while behind the Chalons National Guards thepeasants are ready with their guns."
"What do you think of all this?"
"That we are caught between two fires, which will not prevent uspassing, but what will happen to your Majesty I cannot tell."
"Very well, let us turn back. Enough blood has been shed for my sake andI weep bitter tears for it. I do not wish one drop more to flow. Let usreturn."
"Gentlemen," said Charny, jumping down and taking the leader horse bythe bridle, "the King bids us turn back."
At the Paris Gate the Chalons National Guards, become useless, gaveplace to those from Rheims and Vitry.
"Do you not think I behaved properly, madam?" inquired Louis of hiswife.
"Yes--but I think Count Charny obeyed you very easily," was her comment.
She fell into one of those gloomy reveries which was not entirely due tothe terrible situation in which she was hedged in.