but gives it all back to them again, that he governs those people, and
they owe him respect and obedience and have to pay taxes to him, and so
if he needs money he raises it by laying extra taxes upon them. Then he
asked, "do you understand that, little Louis?"
"Oh, yes, indeed!" The Dauphin was breathless with interest now, "I
have been told about that, but I don't like it. It seems to me that if
a man is the king, he ought to have all the money and give it to the
people when they need it. They ought to ask him for it, not he ask
them."
To this the king agreed, but added with a sigh, that kings had so
misused their power and authority that the people no longer trusted
them, and that now a king could not pay out money unless the people
knew what it was to be used for, and were willing.
"Have you used people's money, papa, without asking their leave?" cried
Louis eagerly. "Was that why they came to Versailles yesterday and were
so wicked to us? For those bad men and women were the people, weren't
they?"
King Louis shook his head. "No, my son," he said. "The people can not
come to me in such great masses. They have to send representatives.
Those representatives I called to me at Versailles and asked of them
money for the outlays I had to make, but they asked things in return,
of me which I could not grant, either for my own sake or for yours, my
son, who are some day to be my successor. Then the people were led to
believe that I did not love them, but I am determined to show them that
I do love them and am ready to share everything with them. That is why
we have left lovely Versailles and come to live here, where we have to
do without so much that we enjoy. And we must try to be contented here
and share all the disagreeable things that the people have to bear,
which is what a true King should do."
The Dauphin had sat like an old man, listening, and now as his father
stopped speaking, the boy laid a hand on his breast, saying solemnly:
"Papa, I have understood everything, and I am very much ashamed that I
complained at all. And I promise you I will take pains to give
everybody a good example. I will be happy and contented here."
And the Dauphin kept his word; he took pains to be contented, and never
said another word about Versailles, but tried to get all the pleasure
he could from the dreary old palace and its garden, so different from
that at Versailles, where the Dauphin had so much ground in which to
work. Here in the garden, there was only one small corner set aside for
the use of the royal family. This was surrounded by iron palings,
through which faces full of hate and malice would often peer at the
little Dauphin while he was busy gardening. One day he heard such words
and saw such threatening faces that he shrank back and ran to his
mother, who comforted him as best she could and said that he must be
brave and strong, or she would cry too, and that she must not do this
because it was exactly what the men who were trying to hurt their
feelings, wanted to see her do.
The boy's eyes flashed.
"I will never complain again," he cried, "and they shall never again
have the pleasure of seeing you or me cry if I can help it. But, mamma,
tell me--are there no good men in the world?"
"Yes, Louis," answered the queen. "You must believe that all men are
good and treat them courteously, until you have proved the contrary. If
they refuse your friendly kindness, it will not be your fault, and you
will have done what is right, no matter what others do."
A shadow passed over the child's lovely face.
"But, mamma," he said, "all men are not good. The men who abused and
cursed us so were not good, and I could never be friendly to them,
never!"
"We will hope that we shall never see them again," said the queen, "and
I wish you to be so kind and polite to everyone who comes here, that
all men may admire and respect their future king, even though he is
still a child."
"I will be," cried the boy with spirit, "so that you may be satisfied
with me, mamma. Just for that I will be so!"
As Marie Antoinette was kissing the pretty boy who was her comforter,
the mayor of Paris and General Lafayette were announced, and the
Dauphin whispered to his mother:
"That general was at Versailles with the bad men. I can _never_ be
kind to him."
"Hush," whispered the Queen--"For God's sake, do not let anybody hear
that. No--no--he does not belong to our enemies. He wishes us well.
Treat him kindly, my child."
And then Marie Antoinette took her son by the hand, and together they
met their distinguished guests, who had come with the unwelcome news
that, according to the old custom of the days of Henry the Fourth, the
people wished to have free access to the gardens of the Tuileries,
which freedom had been denied them since the coming of King Louis and
his family.
The queen was bitterly opposed to this, for it meant that, for her own
comfort and protection, she must only walk in the garden at certain
times and under escort, and she was speaking with proud and angry
fearlessness to the general about the matter, when the Dauphin left her
side and running forward, extended his hand to Lafayette, crying:
"General, I should like to salute you. Mamma told me I must be polite
and kind to all who are good to us, and she said that you wish us well.
Let me, therefore, greet you kindly, and give you my hand."
As he spoke, he raised his blue eyes and looked smilingly and
trustingly into those of the general and then at his mother; and his
hearer, whose heart had just kindled with anger against Marie
Antoinette and her rebellious words, felt anger melt into admiration,
together with reverence and astonishment at the words of the manly
little Dauphin. Bending his knee, in stately grace, he pressed the
Dauphin's small hand to his lips and said gravely as to a comrade:
"My prince, you have spoken as with the tongue of an angel, and I swear
to you and to your royal mother that I will never forget this moment.
The kiss I have impressed upon the hand of my future king is at once
the seal of a solemn vow and the oath of unchangeable fidelity and
devotion to my king and the royal family. Dauphin of France, you have
to-day gained a soldier for your throne who is prepared to shed his
last drop of blood for you and your house, and on whose loyalty you may
always count."
General Lafayette had tears in his eyes, and his noble face glowed with
emotion, while the child before him looked at him with wistful eyes and
a happy smile. Close by stood Marie Antoinette, her air of proud
defiance turned to one of gentle sweetness. She knew what that moment
meant in the history of France, and her heart thrilled with pride in
her little son, the Dauphin. Stooping, she kissed his golden hair, and
then, without an attempt to conceal the emotion, she finished her
conversation with the general and mayor, and then, making her adieus to
them beckoned to the Dauphin to go with her from the pavilion in which
the interview had taken place, and to return to the palace.
Instead of walking beside her, the Dauphin paused and asked:
"Mamma, please let me walk alone. I want the people to see I am not
afraid, as they may think if I let you lead me. I want to be like the
Chevalier Bayard, that the Abbe talked to me about the other day. I
want to be _sans peur et sans reproche_--like Bayard."
The queen smiled through tears.
"Very well, my chevalier," she said. "You shall walk alone."
"And before you, please. The knights always walk in advance of the
ladies, to protect them from danger. I am your knight, mamma, and I
want to be, as long as I live." And he added with a pretty, playful
bow, "Will you allow it, my royal lady?"
"I allow it! So go in front, chevalier, little Louis. We will take the
same way we came."
The Dauphin sprang along the path for quite a distance, when he stopped
suddenly and turned round to the queen, who with her two footmen was
walking quietly behind him.
"Well, Chevalier Bayard, what are you stopping for?" asked the queen
with a smile.
"I am waiting for you," he said gravely, "because this is where my
knightly service commences, for it is here that danger begins."
"It is true," said the Queen, and even as she spoke, there came to her
ears a sound of shouting as loud as the booming of cannon. "Oh, my
child," cried Marie Antoinette, "the sound is like the thundering of a
storm at sea! But such storms lie in God's hand and He protects those
who trust Him. Think of that, little Louis, and do not be afraid!"
"Oh, I am not afraid!" cried Louis, running happily on. And yet,
outside the fence behind which they were walking, was a dense mass of
angry people muttering curses on the queen and the Dauphin.
All at once, the mother's heart almost stopped beating from fright and
horror. A man had extended his bare, powerful arm through the paling of
the fence, to bar the Dauphin's way when he should try to pass it.
The boy saw the arm, hesitated a little, then went bravely forward. The
queen hurried that she might be near him when he reached the danger
point. On walked the Dauphin in proud courage. On hurried the queen and
as she reached him, she cried:
"Come here, my son. Give me your hand."
But instead of responding to her cry, the little prince sprang forward
and stood directly in front of the outstretched arm, and reaching out
his small white hand, laid it on the brown clenched fist that had been
ready to clutch him as in a vise, while a chorus of cheers at his
courage went up from outside the wall.
"Good-day sir," he said in a loud voice, "Good-day!" As he spoke he
took hold of the great rough hand and shook it.
"Little fool," roared the man, "what do you mean, and how dare you lay
your puny paw in the claws of a lion?"
The Dauphin smiled. "Sir, I thought you were stretching out your hand
to reach me with it, and so I give you mine and say good-day, sir!"
"And if I wanted, I could crush your fingers with my fist," cried the
man, still holding the little hand firmly.
But from a hundred throats outside the fence came the cry "You shall
not do it, Simon. You shall not hurt the boy!"
"Who can hinder me if I choose to do it?" asked the cobbler, whose name
was Simon, with a coarse laugh. "See, I hold the hand of the future
King of France, and I can break it if I choose, and make it so it can
never lift the sceptre of France. The little monkey thought he would
take hold of my hand and make me draw it back, but now my hand has got
hold of his, and holds it fast. And mark this, boy, the time is past
when kings seized us and trod us down, now we seize them, and do not
let them go unless we will."
"But, Mr. Simon," said Louis, "you see very plainly that I do not want
to do any harm, and I know you do not want to do me any harm, and I ask
you to be so good as to take away your arm, that my mamma can go on
with her walk."
"But suppose I do not do as you want me to?" asked the man defiantly.
"I suppose then your mamma would dictate to me, and perhaps call some
soldiers and order them to shoot the dreadful people?"
"You know, Master Simon, that I give no such commands and never gave
such," said the queen quickly. "The king and I love our people and
never would give our soldiers orders to fire on them, and now, sir--the
Queen of France and her son will no longer be detained!" With a quick
movement she struck back the arm of the cobbler, Simon, snatched the
Dauphin away like lightning and passed by before Simon had time to put
his arm back.
The crowd watching were filled with enthusiasm by the courage of the
queen. They applauded, laughed and shouted, while the cries, "Long live
the Queen! Long live the Dauphin!" passed like wildfire among the
throng behind the fence, and although in the eyes of Simon whose evil
design had been frustrated by a little child, there still shone hatred,
Marie Antoinette, who was now hand in hand with the Dauphin, reached in
safety the little garden reserved for the use of the royal family. Once
within its iron gate, decorated with the arms of the kings of France,
she felt as if all power had gone from her, and she could no longer
hide her fear and grief, but, no, she must be cheerful for her son's
sake, and her servants must not see her brow clouded, and so, with head
erect and flashing eyes, she walked on.
"Mamma," cried the Dauphin, interrupting her thoughts. "There comes the
king, my father. He will be glad to hear I was so courageous."
The queen quickly stooped and kissed him. "Yes, truly my little Bayard,"
she said, "you have done honour to your great example and been really a
little chevalier '_sans peur et sans reproche_,' but remember, Louis,
true bravery does not glory in its great deeds and does not wish
others to admire them, but keeps silent and leaves others to talk of
them!"
"Yes, and I will be silent too," cried Louis, with sparkling eyes. "You
will see that I can be silent too," and child though he was, he showed
from that moment a quick understanding and appreciation of the humility
necessary to real greatness.
That winter in the Tuileries was a dismal one indeed, for the royal
family had none of the gaiety and freedom which had been part of the
happy life at Versailles, and even when the King wished to go to his
summer palace at St. Cloud for rest and change, this was not allowed.
At last, weary of the insults and restraints heaped upon them, the
royal family attempted to escape secretly from Paris, but the plot was
discovered, their carriages stopped, and they were escorted back to the
Tuileries by a shouting shrieking mob of men and women who were
fiendishly glad of their capture. After that the King and Queen and the
Dauphin were always treated as prisoners in their own palace, with
guards set over them to watch their every movement, and the poor little
Dauphin could not go out nor play freely and happily as could the
poorest peasant child in France. After some months had passed, however,
the fury of the people grew somewhat less, and they were allowed to
close the doors of their rooms when they wished, and to walk out in the
gardens once more. It even seemed for some time as if what King Louis
had done to win back the trust of his people had been successful, and
that the throne of France might regain its dignity and power before
that time when Louis the Dauphin, should come into his inheritance.
He, meanwhile, was filling this period of calm with such affairs as
interested and amused him, and his greatest joy was that he was again
allowed to work in his garden. Although it was so small in comparison
to that at Versailles, it was yet a bit of paradise to him, and as soon
as his study hours were over, he always hurried out to dig his ground,
and water and pick his blossoms, and it was the great delight of those
subjects who loved the manly little fellow, to stand outside the fence
and watch him as he worked. The Dauphin was generally accompanied, when
he went outside the palace, by several soldiers from the detachment of
the National Guard, who were on duty at the Tuileries, and the boy
himself, who was now having military drills, generally wore the uniform
of the National Guard, and so charming and so manly was this little
National Guardsman of six years, that he became the idol of Paris. Fans
and lockets were decorated with his picture, which society women wore,
and everywhere the beauty and wit of the little fellow were talked of.
The boys of Paris shared the enthusiasm of their elders, and formed
themselves into a regiment, which was called the Regiment of the
Dauphin, which, with the king's permission, marched to the Tuileries to
parade before the Dauphin. As usual, he was found in his garden, and
was anxious to show his treasures to them even before he answered their
request that he become Colonel of their regiment. When he accepted the
honour urged upon him, one of the officers said:
"But that will mean giving up gathering flowers for your mamma."
"Oh, no," said the Dauphin, quickly, "that will not prevent me from
taking care of my flowers. Many of these gentlemen tell me that they,
too, have little gardens, and if they love the queen as much as their
colonel loves her, mamma will have whole regiments of bouquets every
day."
A cheer showed the boys' appreciation of their little colonel's
sentiment, and the regiment of the Dauphin became one of the most
popular organisations in Paris. Their uniform was a miniature copy of
the French guards, with their three-cornered hats and white jackets,
and whenever they marched through the Place de la Carousel, the people
crowded to see the army of sturdy boys with their handsome little
colonel.
So great was the boys' love for the Dauphin that the officers of the
regiment came to the palace one day to make him a present, in the name
of the whole regiment, and they were enthusiastically received by their
colonel.
"Welcome, my comrades," he cried. "My mamma tells me you have brought
me a present. But it gives me such pleasure to see you that nothing
more is needed."
"But Colonel, you will not refuse our gift?" said a little officer
named Palloy, and he added proudly:
"We bring you a set of dominoes made entirely out of the ruins of the
Bastile."[1]
[1] The Bastile was the national prison, which had been entirely
destroyed by the Revolutionists.
Taking the wrapper from the white marble box, bound with gold, he gave
it to the Dauphin, at the same time reciting the following lines:
"Those glowing walls that once woke our fear
Are changed into the toy we offer here
And when with joyful face the gift you view
Think what the people's love can do."
Joyfully the Dauphin received the beautiful present and listened
eagerly to the explanation of how to play the new game. On the back of
each domino, in the black marble, was a gold letter, and when the whole
set of dominoes was arranged in regular order, they formed this
sentence, Vive le Roi, Vive la Reine, et Vive le Dauphin (Long live the
King, the Queen and the Dauphin). The marble of the box was taken from
the altar-slab in the chapel of the Bastile, and in the middle, in gold
relief, was a picture of King Louis.
"That is my papa!" cried Louis joyfully, when he saw it.
"Yes," said Palloy. "Every one of us bears him in his heart. And like
the King, you will live for the happiness of all, and like him, you
will be the idol of France. We who shall one day be French soldiers and
citizens, bring to you, who will then be our commander-in-chief and
king, our homage as the future supporters of the throne which is
destined for you and which the wisdom of your father has placed under
the unshakable power of law. The gift which we offer you is small, but
each one of us adds his heart to it."
"And I give you all of my heart in return for it," cried the Dauphin,
joyfully, "and I shall take great pains to do my lessons well so I may
be allowed to amuse myself playing dominoes."
The delight of the Dauphin was so evident that his comrades who had
brought him the present felt a keener affection even than before for
their little Colonel, and the Queen who had been present during the
whole scene spoke in friendly words of thanks to the boys, who then
withdrew, escorted by the king and the Dauphin, who had no knowledge,
child of destiny that he was, of the omen contained in that present.
But Marie Antoinette knew only too well, and her heart was heavy when
she saw the present made from the stones of the Bastile. But of this
she gave no sign, and from that day attempted more than ever to endear
herself and her son to the people who had so little trust in her. One
day when a crowd of fiendish women behind the fence called out cruel
things about the Queen, the Dauphin could be no longer silent.
"You lie, oh, you lie!" he cried angrily. "My mamma is _not_ a wicked
woman, and she does not hate the people. She is good. She is so good
that--that----" tears choked him, and ashamed to show such signs of
weakness, he dashed out of the garden into the palace, but as he
reached the queen's apartments he choked back the tears, saying, "I
will not cry any more, for that will only trouble mamma and I can see
she has trouble enough without that. I will laugh and sing and jump
about, and then she may smile a little instead of crying, as I often
find her doing."
His tutor, the Abbe Davout, heartily approved of this, and the Dauphin
sprang into his mother's presence with a merry smile which gladdened
the queen's heart and made her forget her sorrows for awhile. This
pleased the Dauphin greatly, and he re-doubled his efforts to be merry,
making the little dog stand on its hind legs, while Louis put on its
black head a paper cap which he had made, painted with red stripes,
like those worn by the Jacobins or Revolutionists and cried:
"Monsieur Jacobi, behave respectfully. Make your salutations to her
majesty, the Queen!"
He was rewarded by a hug and a kiss from the Queen and then ran off
with the dog barking at his heels.
Little Louis was, as we have seen, an eager and brilliant scholar and
one day he begged the Abbe to give him lessons in grammar which he had
begun to learn some time before.
"Gladly," answered the Abbe, "your last lesson, if I remember rightly,
was upon the three degrees of comparison--the positive, the comparative
and the superlative. But you must have forgotten all that."
"You are mistaken," answered the Dauphin, "and I will prove it to you.
Listen:--the positive is when I say, 'my Abbe is a kind Abbe'; the
comparative is when I say 'my Abbe is kinder than another Abbe,' and
the superlative," he continued, looking at the Queen who was
listening--"is when I say, 'mamma is the kindest and most amiable of
all mammas!'"
The retort was so clever, the manner of saying it so charming, that the
Abbe and Marie Antoinette exchanged glances of amusement and pride, but
the little prince was unconscious of having said or done anything
unusual.
Besides grammar, Louis studied Italian, which he could speak and read
fluently; he also studied Latin, and some of the sentences he
translated have been preserved, such as "True friends are useful to
princes." "I know a prince who easily flies into a passion."
"Flatterers are very dangerous to princes." From these sentences it is
evident that the Abbe was trying to teach his clever little scholar
more than one thing at a time. Louis was also taught arithmetic,
geometry and geography, this last by means of a huge hollow globe lit
by a lantern, which had been invented for the special use of the
Dauphin, by a celebrated professor in the University of Paris. Louis
also was trained in all sorts of athletic sports and when he was seven
years old was sturdy of body and far more mature of mind than many
older boys. At seven, according to the court custom of France, he was
obliged to be given into the care of a governor. The people wished to
choose this governor and named several candidates who were utterly
unworthy of the position, but they were obliged to set aside their
wishes and accept a man named by the king, who also himself continued
to superintend his son's education.
At this time the clouds of political disaster were again hanging over
the palace, and even the Dauphin could see and feel the uneasiness that
surrounded him.
On June 20, 1792, King Louis refused to sign two decrees which the
people wished him to sign, and with his refusal the storm of riot and
revolution burst forth again. An immense mob of shrieking, howling
people stormed the Tuileries, where no measures had been taken in
defence, and the king gave orders that the doors of the palace be flung
open and the people be allowed to pass in unhindered. In a few minutes
every inch of space in rooms and corridors and halls was filled with
the dense crowd. Only one room was locked, and in that room were the
king and queen, the Dauphin and his sister, Therese with a few loyal
friends. Therese was terrified and would have screamed with fright, but
the manly little Dauphin watching her, held back his own tears and kept
her terror under control by his words and manner, acting with the
dignity of a grown-up guardian.