IN WHICH THE DAUPHIN WEARS THE RED CAP
There is nothing in this world so fickle as a Parisian mob! A breath, a
word, a gesture even, can often turn it aside from its most murderous
purpose, and bring it worshipping to the very feet of those it sought
but a moment before to destroy!
The great palace of the Tuileries was crowded to suffocation. Hordes of
savage men, women, and even children from the poorest quarters of Paris,
thronged, jostled and fought one another to get a sight of their hated
sovereigns. A small company of soldiers strove in vain to clear the
rooms and defend the royalty from the taunts and insults of the
populace. Outside the palace, a still greater section of the mob, unable
to force an entrance, shrieked for something spectacular, even to
demanding the heads of the royal family. It was a wild, turbulent scene!
Jean had kept his word. Throughout the four hours' march along the Rue
St. Honore, on that memorable twentieth of June, he had stayed closely
by that great giant of a Santerre, who finally gave him his heavy pike
to carry. At the palace gate the mob forced the doors with a rush, and
Jean, by virtue of being in the van with the brewer, entered among the
first. Up the Grand Staircase they hurried, pell-mell, dragging a piece
of cannon with them, and using hatchets, commenced to force the door
behind which it was rumoured that the King was hiding. Doubtless the mob
expected to find him cowering in terror behind a few faithful soldiers.
What then was their amazement when the panels of the door fell in, to
behold him standing directly before them, calm and unmoved!
"Here I am!" announced Louis XVI. "Had you waited but a moment, you
might have entered the door without destroying it. What do you wish with
me?" The rabble fell back a pace, in enforced respect. Jean crept behind
some of the tallest, not wishing the King to perceive him and
misinterpret his intentions.
"We have here a decree concerning the rights of the people!" announced
one, Legendre, a butcher, who had constituted himself their spokesman.
"We wish you to sanction it!"
"This," said the King quietly, "is neither the place nor the time for me
to do that. You know that I will do all which your new Constitution
requires of me!" His kingly dignity quite changed the attitude of the
turbulent throng.
"Vive la nation!" suddenly shouted his assailants in response.
"Yes," answered the King, "shout for the nation! I am its best friend!"
"Well, prove it then!" demanded a bold voice, and its owner handed the
King a red cap on the point of a pike. Jean held his breath, wondering
what the monarch would do now. But Louis XVI deemed this neither the
time nor the place to resist what was after all but a symbol. He lifted
the cap, and with a dignified gesture, placed it on his head. Further
than that, he even poured some liquor from a bottle offered to him, and
drank to the nation, though there were a thousand chances that he had
been presented with poison. After that he was loudly applauded, and
there was plainly no reason to fear an attack upon his person.
But now Jean became anxious for the safety of the little prince, and
pushed his way from the room to ascertain what he could concerning the
other members of the royal family. At the door of the council hall he
heard it said that within could be seen the "Austrian Wolf," as they
called the Queen. Truly enough, there she was at the end of the room.
Jean's heart gave a bound at the sight of the group. Fenced in by a
long table stood Marie Antoinette, her head high, her great eyes
flashing, her cheeks deathly pale. On one side of her stood young
Marie-Therese, pale also, but brave and unflinching, her hand clasped in
her mother's. And on the table, supported by his mother's arm, stood the
Dauphin. In his face was mingled astonishment and fright, and he turned
his eyes constantly toward his mother, as if to read in her countenance
the meaning of this amazing invasion.
For a time nothing but confusion reigned. Cries of "Down with the
Austrian Wolf!" mingled with shouts of "Vive Santerre!" "Vivent les
Sans-culottes!" "Vive le Faubourg St. Antoine!" Then suddenly there was
silence. A huge woman pushed her way through the crowd, threw her red
woollen liberty-cap on the table and cried:
"If thou art so fond of the nation, thou Austrian Wolf, let thy son wear
the red cap of liberty!"
"Yes, yes!" shrieked the crowd. "Crown the little Wolf-Cub with the red
cap, and give him some tri-coloured ribbons to wear!" Someone threw down
the ribbons beside the cap. The Queen turned to one of the guards
standing close by.
"Place the cap on his head!" she commanded, and the grenadier did so,
setting it on the boy's brown curls; then he tied the ribbons in his
button-hole. The little fellow, hardly comprehending whether this might
be in sport or insult, smiled uncertainly. The multitude shouted and
applauded, and more confusion ensued. Jean, taking advantage of the
racket, slipped to the front, and placed himself directly before the
Dauphin. The little prince at once recognised him, but before he should
show that he did, Jean leaned across the table and shouted "Vive la
nation!" and then in an undertone whispered: "I am only here to help
you! What can I do?" The Dauphin's face lit up with a smile of
understanding, and without an instant's hesitation he murmured:
"Find Moufflet!" Comprehending well the boy's anxiety for his pet, Jean
passed on, melted into the crowd and quickly scurried away, darting here
and there, in and out of all the rooms to which he could find
admittance. But it was like hunting for a needle in a haystack. Chance
alone finally favoured him. As he passed a thickly-packed group in one
of the corridors, he thought he distinguished a faint yelp. In another
moment he knew that he was not mistaken. Hating anything that was royal
property, a crowd of rough _sans-culottes_ had surrounded the poor
shivering animal, for lack of being able to get any nearer its master.
"Here, Jacques!" called one ruffian, "give me your pike and I'll finish
him!" He was just about to spear the frightened, yelping ball of fluff,
when Jean broke madly through the crowd.
"Give him to me!" he commanded. "He's just the kind of a dog I want!
I'll teach him to bark for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity!" The crowd
laughed, patted Jean's head approvingly, and handing Moufflet over to
his protection, hurried off to seek other prey. The dog whined his
recognition of a former friend, and tried to hide under the boy's
jacket.
But Jean could not carry the little thing around in his arms, and at the
same time restore him to his master, that was plain. Where could he
place him so that the little animal might remain in safety? He looked
about him in despair. There was not a corner or the smallest cubby-hole
where it would be secure. Suddenly he remembered that in one of the
rooms now deserted, he had opened a door of what seemed to be a large
closet. He hurried to the spot and found just the hiding-place he
needed. Thrusting Moufflet into the darkness, he commanded:
"You be a good dog! Lie down and be quiet!" As if comprehending the
situation completely, the dog crawled into a far corner, curled up and
lay shivering and silent. Jean closed the door, turned the key, and ran
back to the council-hall. Meanwhile, what had taken place in his
absence?
For many minutes the Dauphin stood crowned with the heavy woollen cap,
while the crowd hooted, laughed and jeered. The day was very hot, and
the perspiration streamed down his face and dampened his curls. His
mother pressed him closer to her, whispering him to be brave a little
longer. As she did so, a young woman in front called out:
"How proud and haughty that Austrian is! How she hates us!" The girl was
pretty, and her expression mild and gentle. The Queen wondered at the
contrast between her appearance and her words. For the first time that
day, she opened her lips and answered:
"I do not hate you, my friend! Why should I? But I am afraid that you
hate me, though I have done you no wrong!" The young woman began to feel
a little ashamed.
"No, no! I do not mean that you hate _me_," she replied, "but the
nation. You love only Austria from whence you came!"
"You poor child!" answered the Queen. "They have told you that and you
believe it, but it is not true! I came from Austria when I was a very
young girl, to marry the King. But since then I have forgotten the land
of my birth. I love only France! Why, see! am I not the mother of your
future king?" and she pointed to the Dauphin. "I love all my French
people, and I only wish them to be happy!" The girl was so touched by
the Queen's gentle, reproachful manner, that the tears came into her
eyes.
"Oh, pardon me, Madame! I did not know you!" she begged. "I see now that
you are not as wicked as they said!" It was then that the humour of the
mob changed. Women and men who had been the fiercest, wept at the grief
in the Queen's words and looks. They pressed about the table, admiring
the bravery of Marie Antoinette and the beauty of her children. Cries of
"Down with the Queen!" gave place to words of praise and admiration for
her courage. Even the big, brutal Santerre was touched.
"Take off that cap from the little fellow's head!" he ordered. "Don't
you see how hot he is?" And then to the Queen he whispered: "Have no
fear, Madame! I will send away the people in peace!"
It was then that Jean returned to the room, amazed at the changed aspect
of affairs. Under Santerre's direction the throng began to file out past
the royal family, contenting themselves with kindly looks and words, or
rough ones, as their changeable tempers dictated. Jean was among the
last to leave, and he had only time to whisper in a very low voice as he
passed the prince,
"It's all right! The closet in the next room!" But by the grateful smile
of his little Highness, Jean knew that the Dauphin had both heard and
understood.
Outside, on the terrace of the Tuileries, other events of interest
appeared to be happening, and Jean lingered to witness them. A man
standing on an armchair at a window in the palace, was addressing the
crowds below. It proved to be Petion, the Mayor of Paris, and he was
bidding the mob disperse peaceably now that the King had been
interviewed. While Jean was looking up, he felt himself clapped on the
shoulder, and a voice exclaimed:
"Well, if here is not my young friend the catapult!" and turning, he
found himself face to face with the thin young man. "And what may you be
doing here? Helping to mob the King?" Now Jean could scarcely have
explained why, but something about this young man both invited and
compelled his confidence, and he had the instinctive feeling that
confidence in him would not be misplaced. So he boldly declared:
"No, Citizen Bonaparte, indeed I have been far from mobbing the King. I
am not a royalist, and I wish to be a true patriot, but I feel that the
people are not dealing rightly with the King, and that they will yet
allow the rabble to do him an ill turn!"
"Well said!" agreed the young man, heartily. "My opinion to a dot! My
friend, I am a Corsican by birth, and I have aided in the unsuccessful
fight for Corsica's liberty, but now I believe I will adopt a new
country and become a French patriot. The situation in this land appeals
to me. My heart thrills when I see an oppressed people rising to throw
off the yoke of the oppressor! And you are right when you say that,
groping in the twilight of their first new liberties, the people are not
dealing justly with their king. But, look you, my friend! Their king
means well, only he is making the biggest mistake a monarch ever made!
He is yet their monarch! He should show it! The people bow to force, to
power, and to that alone. See him now!" and he pointed to a window
where Louis XVI, still crowned with the red cap, was surveying the
throng below.
"Never should he have allowed them to put on him that emblem!" continued
Bonaparte vehemently. "Never should he have countenanced this invasion
of his palace! It was madness! Had he turned a few cannon upon them, and
blown a hundred or more of this rabble to pieces, the rest would have
taken to their heels and fled with respect for him in their hearts! As
it is now, they have none! Mark my words!--worse will come, and he will
live to regret his forbearance!"
Jean marvelled at the fire that flashed from those grey eyes. Instinct
told him that here was a man born to command, and he felt drawn to the
stranger by a feeling of intense admiration.
"I came here to-day through curiosity," he continued, "but what did you
in the palace, my young friend?" And Jean, in his new trust, told the
whole story of his attachment to the little Dauphin, and the debt of
gratitude the Clouets owed to the Queen. When he had finished his
auditor remarked:
"You are a faithful soul, my little friend, and I admire your spirit of
gratitude. I too am genuinely sorry for the royal family. But I fear you
have set yourself a hard road to travel, between your patriotism and
your friendship for royalty. Beware of the many pitfalls that beset you!
I am staying at the Rue Clery, number 548, over the tobacconist's. Come
and see me sometimes. Fortune is not dealing with me so very lavishly
just at present, and I should be grateful for your bright companionship
while I am far from my family and friends!"
And Jean gladly promised to come.
ON TERRIBLE AUGUST TENTH