THE NIGHT OF HORRORS.
The night went by quietly. At midnight the Queen had tried to go out to
the Trianon Palace but the National Guards had refused to let her pass.
When she spoke of feeling fear, they answered that she was safer here
than any other place.
She felt encouraged indeed on her return home by having her most
faithful guards around her. At the door was Valence Charny, leaning on
the carbine used by the Lifeguards as well as the dragoons in those
days. It was not the habit of the indoor guards to carry swords on
duty. "Oh, it is you, Viscount, always faithful?" she said.
"Am I not at my post, where my brother set me, while he is by the King.
He is the head of our family, and his place is to die before the head
of the kingdom."
"Yes," said the royal lady with marked bitterness, "you only have the
right to die for the Queen."
"It will be a great honor for me if God permits me to accomplish that
duty," said the young man bowing.
"What has become of the countess?" she asked, returning after making a
step to go, for a suspicion had stung her in the heart.
"She came past, ten minutes ago, and is having her bed made in your
Majesty's ante-chamber."
The Queen bit her lip: it was impossible to surprise the Charnys in
default in matters of duty: "Thank you, sir," she said with a winning
nod and wave of the hand, "for so well guarding the Queen. Thank your
brother from me for so well guarding the King."
In the ante-room Andrea was respectfully awaiting her.
"I thank you as I have thanked the viscount, and your husband through
him."
Andrea made a courtesy and moved aside for her to go by. The Queen did
not ask her to follow, for this cold devotion which lasted unto death
put her ill at ease.
Gilbert had gone away with General Lafayette who had been twelve hours
on horseback and was ready to drop. At the gates they saw Billet, who
had come with the National Guards, ready to follow Gilbert like a dog,
to the end of the world.
All was quiet, we repeat, up to three in the morning.
Then arrived a second army from town. The other was composed of women
and came for bread; this one came for vengeance and was composed of
friends. The leaders were Marat, a hideous, long-legged hunchbacked
dwarf named Verriere, who came to the surface from the mud when society
was stirred, and the Duke of Aiguillon, disguised as a fishfog.
They came like camp-followers after a battle to fire and pillage.
There had been plenty of killing to do at the Bastile but no plunder,
and they reckoned to make up for that at Versailles.
At half-past five in the morning, five or six hundred of this riff-raff
forced or scaled the great gate: a sentinel had fired an alarm shot,
which slew one of the assailants.
Divided as by a giant swordstroke, the plunderers broke into two gangs,
one aiming at the royal plate; the other at the crown jewels. One
stormed the Queen's apartments, the other made for the chapel where the
King's were.
The sea rose like a high tide.
The guards of the King at that hour were the regular sentry watching
at the door, and an officer who rushed out of the ante-chamber with a
halberd snatched from the hands of the frightened Swiss porter.
"Who goes there?" challenged the sentinel three times, while leveling
his carbine.
The officer knew what excitement would result from firearms being shot
off there in the private apartments, so he beat up the gun with his
halberd and barred the stairs with it clear across as he faced the
intruders.
"What do you want?" he challenged them.
"Oh, dear, nothing of course," jeered several voices. "We are old
friends of her Majesty, so let us pass."
"You are pretty friends to bring war here!"
There was no reply but an ominous laugh. A man seized the ax-headed
spear and tried to wrest it from the officer and as he would not let
go, he bit his hand. The officer tore the weapon away, shortened it so
as to use it as an ax and split the cannibal's skull with one chop.
But the violence of the blow broke the staff in two, made for ornament
rather than use as it was.
The officer remained armed with two weapons in one, the ax and the
spear. While he used both effectively, the sentinel opened the
ante-chamber door and called for help. Half-a-dozen guardsmen ran out.
"To the rescue of Lord Charny, gentlemen," shouted the sentry.
Swords flashed in the light of a lamp in the lobby, and the assailants
were given some work to do on either side of Charny. Cries of pain were
heard and the blood spirted, while the ruffians rolled down the marble
steps which they streaked with gore.
The ante-room door opened and the sentry called out:
"By order of the King, gentlemen, return."
The guards profited by the momentary confusion of these foes to execute
the retreat, with Charny the last to enter the haven. The door was
hardly closed behind him and the two large bolts shot into the sockets
before a hundred blows sounded on it. But they piled up the furniture
against it so that it would hold out for ten minutes.
During that time reinforcements might arrive.
Meanwhile the second gang had darted towards the Queen's apartments;
but the stairs were narrow and only two can go up abreast. It was in
the corridor that Valence Charny watched.
He fired when his challenge was not replied to.
The door opened and Andrea appeared, having heard the shot.
"Save her Majesty," cried the young man, "they are after her life. I am
alone against fifty, but never mind, I shall hold the door as long as I
can. Make haste!"
The assailants stole upon him and he banged the door to, shouting:
"Fasten the bolts! I shall live long enough to give the Queen time to
flee."
Turning around he ran two wretches through with his bayonet.
The Queen had heard all this, and Andrea found her afoot when she
entered her bedroom. Two of her ladies hastily dressed her, and urged
her into the private way, while Andrea, always calm and indifferent to
danger for herself, bolted each door by which they passed.
At the junction of the communication of the two royal apartments, a man
was waiting. It was Charny, covered with blood.
"The King?" cried Marie Antoinette, on seeing this. "You promised to
save him."
"He is saved," replied the count.
Looking through the doorways and not seeing among the members of the
Royal Family and others, his wife, he was going to ask about her when a
glance from the Queen stopped him. He had no need to speak for her gaze
plunging into his heart had read his wish.
"Rest easy--she is coming," she said.
She ran to the little prince whom she took in her arms.
Closing the last door, Andrea came into the Bulls-eye Hall like the
rest. She and her husband exchanged no word, their smiles were ample.
Strange! those long parted hearts began to yearn for one another since
danger surrounded them.
"The King is looking for you, madam," replied Charny to the Queen's
inquiries: "he was going to your rooms by one corridor while you came
to his by another."
They heard the assassins yelling: "Down with the Austrians! Death to
Messalina! no more of Lady Veto! let us throttle her--let her hang!"
A couple of pistol-shots were heard at the same time and two holes were
bored in the door. One bullet whizzed close to the young prince's head
and buried itself in the hangings.
"Oh, heavens, we shall all die," screamed the Queen falling on her
knees.
At a sign from Charny, the Lifeguardsmen formed a shelter for her and
the royal children.
The King now joined them, pale of face and his eyes full of tears: he
was calling for the Queen as she had for him. On seeing her, he ran
into her arms.
"Saved," exclaimed she.
"By the count," replied the monarch, indicating Charny: "And has he
saved you, too?"
"It was his brother," said she.
"My lord, we owe more to your family than we can ever repay," observed
the sovereign.
The Queen blushed as she met Andrea's glance and turned her head aside.
The blows on the door resounded.
"Gentlemen, we must hold the post for an hour," said the count. "It
will take that time to kill us seven if we hold out stoutly. It is not
likely that help will not have come for their Majesties."
With these words he caught hold of an immense sideboard and, his
example being followed, a head of shattered furniture formed a wall in
which the guards cut loopholes to shoot through. The Queen prayed over
her children, stifled their wailing and tears.
The King retired into a closet adjoining, to burn papers which ought
not to fall into strange hands. The door was chopped at till pieces
fell off every instant, and through the gaps blood pikes were thrust
and jagged bayonets which tried to dart death. At the same time,
bullets found holes in the breastwork and furrowed the plaster on the
gilded ceiling.
At length a bench on top of the sideboard fell down; the buffet lost
one panel and bloody arms were plunged in through the orifice to make
the crevice larger. The guards had burnt the last cartridge, though
not vainly, for through the channel dead bodies were seen strewing the
lobby. At the shrieks of the ladies who supposed death was to leap in
at the breach, the King returned.
"Sire," said Charny, "shut yourself up with the Queen in the most
remote room. Fasten all the doors after you. At each door let two of us
stand. I ask to be the last and guard the last. I warrant we shall keep
them off for two hours: they take forty minutes full to get through
this."
The King hesitated; it seemed so shameful to step from room to room,
closing doors on brave men left to die for him. He would not have drawn
back but for the Queen. If she had not had her children with her she
would have stayed beside him.
But, alas! king or subject, all have a flaw in the iron heart, through
which pierces terror when boldness elopes.
The King was about to give the order to retreat when the arms were
suddenly retracted, the spears and bayonets disappeared and the shouts
and thwarts were silenced. In the instant of stillness all waited with
parted lips, listening ears and held breath.
The tramp of regular troops was heard.
"The National Guard!" shouted Charny.
"My Lord Charny!" bellowed a hearty voice on the other side of the
door.
"Farmer Billet," cried Charny as a well-known face showed itself. "Is
it you, my friend?"
"Yes; my lord. Where is the King, and the Queen?"
"Here, safe and sound."
"God be thanked! This way, Dr. Gilbert!"
Two woman's hearts thrilled variously at this name: Andrea's and the
Queen's. Charny, turning instinctively, saw both turn pale; he sighed
as he shook his head.
"Open the doors, gentlemen," cried the King. "Here are friends."
The Lifeguardsmen hurried to tear down the remains of the barrier.
During their work the voice of Marquis Lafayette was heard:
"Gentlemen of the National Guard, I pledged my word last night to the
King that nothing appertaining to his Majesty should incur harm. If
you allow his Lifeguards to be hurt, you break my word of honor, and I
shall no longer be worthy of being your chief."
When the obstacles were removed, the two first persons seen were
General Lafayette and Gilbert: a little to their left was Billet,
delighted at having had a part in the King's deliverance. It was he who
had gone and roused up the general for this deed.
"Long live the King--long live the Queen!" roared Billet. "Ah, if you
had stayed in Paris this would not have happened."
"General, what do you advise?" asked the King of the marquis.
"I think you should show yourself at the window."
Gilbert nodded, and Louis walked straight to the window, opened it and
stepped out on the balcony.
"Long live the King!" was the universal shout. "Come to Paris:" added
others. While a few, but the most dreadful ones: "Let us have the Queen
out here!"
All shivered; the King lost color as did Gilbert and Charny.
She looked at Lafayette, who said:
"Fear nothing!"
"All alone?" she questioned.
With the charming manners he preserved to old age, Marquis Lafayette
gently detached the clinging children from their mother and urged them
out upon the balcony. He offered his hand to Marie Antoinette, adding:
"If your Majesty will rely on me, all will go well."
He led her out on the balcony above the Marble Courtyard, a sea of
enflamed human heads. The yell that burst forth at sight of the Queen
was immense but none could say whether it was threat or joy. Lafayette
bent and kissed her hand. This time, applause rent the air, for the
meanest there did homage to beauty and womanhood.
"Strange people:" muttered the Austrian: "but what about my
Lifeguards--can you do nothing for them?"
"Let me have one of them."
Charny drew back, for he had offered himself as the scapecat for the
officers' revelry of the First October and he did not want amnesty.
Andrea took his hand and also stood back. Again those two had
understood each other; and the Queen flashed her eye. With panting
bosom she gasped in a broken voice:
"Another."
A guardsman obeyed who had not his captain's reasons. Lafayette led him
out on the balcony, put his own tricolored cockade in his hat and shook
his hand.
"Bravo, Lafayette! the Lifeguards are not a bad sort."
A few voices remonstrated, but they were drowned by the cheers.
"All is over and the fine weather sets in," said the general. "For the
calm not to be broken again, one final sacrifice is necessary. Come to
Paris."
"General, you may announce that I shall depart for the capital in an
hour, with the Queen and the rest of the Royal Family."
This order seemed to remind Charny of something he had forgotten and
he sprang away with alacrity. The Queen followed him, both guided by
tracks of blood. The Queen shut her eyes and groping for support met
the hand of Charny, which led her on. Suddenly she felt him shudder.
"A dead man," she shrieked, opening her eyes.
"Will your Majesty excuse me taking away my arm? I find what I sought:
the remains of my brother Valence."
Here lay the unfortunate young man whom the head of the Charnys
had ordered to let himself be slain for the Queen's sake. He had
punctiliously obeyed.