THE COBBLER TAKES COMMAND
No one ever knew just how it came about that the scheme of the Baron De
Batz had failed. La Souris was firmly believed to be the one who had
discovered it, though whether he had really become acquainted with the
facts, or only suspected a plot could not be ascertained. All the
conspirators could discover was that during the day, one of the
grenadiers not in the plot had found a folded paper lying outside the
courtyard. It contained but one sentence,--"Beware! Michonis will betray
you to-night!" The soldier handed this to Simon, who immediately took
steps to prevent all action, and had Michonis brought up before the
Commune.
But wary Michonis had cleverly covered up his tracks! There was no
evidence of guilt found upon him or any of his companions. He answered
openly and calmly all incriminating questions, and seemed so earnestly
and candidly interested in the welfare of the Republic, that the Commune
decided Simon must have been mistaken, in spite of the note.
This, however, irritated Simon beyond measure! He doubled all the guards
at the Tower. Then he went whining to the great Republican leader,
Robespierre, complaining that he had unearthed evidence of many plots to
carry off the royal child, proclaim him King of France, and overthrow
the Republic. Between the two they so manoeuvred that in consequence
of these rumours, the Committee of Public Safety issued a decree:--the
boy must be separated from his mother, kept in an apartment by himself,
and put in charge of some tutor to be chosen by the Convention.
Then came the question who should take charge of him, who should be
given the important task of educating his royal ideas in the principles
of the Republic? Who but Simon, the zealous commissary that had been so
active in thwarting all schemes of release! Yes, let Simon have charge
of this tender life, and let his wife be there to assist him and
minister to the bodily wants of this carefully reared, tenderly nurtured
little son of a monarch! So it was decreed!
It was about ten o'clock on the night of July third, 1793. Louis XVI had
been dead nearly six months. In their room in the Tower sat the Queen,
Madame Elizabeth and little Marie-Therese. The two older women were
sewing, or rather vainly attempting to darn and patch their much-worn
clothes, for the Republic saw fit to provide them with no new ones. The
fair young girl of fifteen was reading aloud. All were dressed in neat
black gowns, their mourning-costume for the late king.
Over in a corner, in a small bed with no curtains about it, slept the
little Louis Charles. His mother had carefully hung up a dark shawl to
shield his eyes from the light and shut off the draughts. Once he
stirred in his sleep and sighed heavily. Marie-Therese stopped reading,
and all glanced toward the bed.
"Poor little fellow!" sighed his mother. "His life is not very happy
now!"
"But how brave he is!" said Madame Elizabeth. "He never complains a bit,
he tries so hard to be cheerful and keep us all in good spirits, and how
tenderly he always speaks of his father!"
"Is it not strange," added Marie-Therese, "how he never speaks now of
our happy life at Versailles, (how far away that all seems!) and he
never even mentions the Tuileries, for fear it will make us sad! For one
so young, he is very, very thoughtful!"
"God grant that he may have happier years in store for him in the
future!" sighed Marie Antoinette. "But, whatever comes, I pray that he
may never sit on the throne of France! Nothing but sorrow could come of
it!" She shuddered, and after a moment's silence they all continued
their work. Suddenly there was a loud sound outside on the staircase,--a
heavy tread of feet, a hideous clanking of bolts and bars unfastened.
The three women looked at one another in dismay. But they thought it was
only another of the insulting searches to which they were obliged to
submit so frequently, and at such uncertain hours. The last door opened,
and six municipals entered.
"We are come with an order from the Committee of Public Safety," said
their spokesman, in a loud, brutal manner. "The son of Louis Capet is to
be separated from his family. Give him up to us at once!" Poor Marie
Antoinette could not believe her senses. Separated from his mother! A
little child of only eight! They could not be so cruel!
"It is not possible!" she cried, trembling. "You have got the order
wrong! It cannot be true! He is so young, so weak! He needs my care!"
Her anguish softened for a moment even the hearts of the rough
municipals.
"Here is the decree," they said, more gently. "We did not make it,--it
was the Convention. We are only here to carry it out and we cannot help
ourselves." The three women placed themselves before the child's bed.
They defended it with their bodies, they sobbed, they prayed, they
implored, they humbled themselves to the utmost. All to no purpose!
"Come, come!" at length remonstrated the head of the band. "Give over
this disturbance! They are not going to _kill_ the child! He will be
safe and in good hands." He approached the bed and seized the heavy
shawl which fell on the boy, waking him suddenly and completely
enveloping him. He shrieked aloud in his sudden fright and clung to his
mother, crying:
"Do not let them take me! Oh, mother, mother!"
But the municipals were growing weary of the scene. "If you do not let
him go peaceably," they warned, "we will call the guard and take him by
force!" Then the Queen begged that he should be left at least over that
night, that she should be allowed to see him at meals each day. In vain!
In despair the three women began to dress him. Never did a toilet take
so long! They lingered over each garment, passed his shoes from hand to
hand, put them on and took them off again, thinking in this way to delay
the time of parting a few moments.
"Hurry, hurry!" commanded the officials. "We cannot wait all night!" At
length it was completed. The Queen took her son, all trembling and
frightened, sat him on a chair, kneeled down before him, and clasped
both his hands in hers.
"Dear little child of mine, we are about to part! I know not when we
shall see each other again, but when I am not with you, remember always
your duty. Never forget that it is the good God who is putting you to
this test! Be good and patient, brave and straightforward, and your
father will bless you from Heaven where he is gone!" Then she kissed him
and gave him to the municipals. But the little fellow broke from them,
rushed to her again and clasped her knees with his arms. With the tears
streaming down her cheeks, she released his hold. "Go, my son! You must
obey me!" Grasping his arm, the leader dragged him, still looking
backward, from the room. The women strained their gaze till they could
see him no longer, and the door was shut!
Down in the room below, in the apartment formerly occupied by Louis XVI,
a thick-set, dark man was striding about, smoking an evil-smelling pipe.
The door opened, and some municipals entered with a sobbing boy. They
spoke a few words to the man and then went out, leaving Louis XVII alone
with his tutor. He recognised at once Simon the cobbler, whom he had
frequently seen before, and for whom he entertained an unconquerable
aversion.
"Sit down on that chair, Little Capet!" commanded the cobbler, without
removing his pipe from his mouth. The child obeyed.
"Now there are a few things I want you to understand," said Simon,
striding up and down before him, puffing out great clouds of smoke, "and
we might as well make them plain in the beginning. In the first place,
you are to be called nothing but Little Capet! Do you comprehend that?"
The boy made no answer, but only choked and coughed, for the
unaccustomed smoke almost strangled him. Simon laughed aloud at his
plight.
"Next, you are to obey implicitly every order that I give you. I'm
master, now! Do you understand?" Still no answer.
"Lastly, you are to forget all about your royal fol-de-rols, and learn
carefully from me how to conduct yourself as a good citizen of this
great and glorious Republic. I'll teach you! Oh, I'll teach you well!"
The boy's continued silence irritated him beyond measure.
"Answer me, you little pig!" he shouted, grasping him by the collar. And
for the first time in his life, the son of a king, the gentle loving
child who had never before had a rough hand laid on him, was shaken to
and fro by the cobbler's muscular arm. He sobbed and caught his breath,
but still persisted in a stubborn silence. Simon now perceived that in
this frail little body, he had an iron will to cope with, and mentally
bracing himself, he vowed to break it or perish in the attempt.
Then ensued a frightful struggle! The cobbler scolded, threatened,
raged, tramped about the room, and finally resorted to blows. The little
king set his teeth and endured to the last, but he would not open his
lips. It was far into the night when Simon, furious but exhausted, threw
the boy on his bed in a dark corner, and left him to sob out his grief,
pain and despair till morning.
The next day appeared on the scenes, Madame Simon, the cobbler's wife.
She was very little, very fat and very ugly. Her face and hands were
brown like Simon's, and she always wore a cap tied with red ribbons, and
a blue apron. She was rough, coarse-mannered and common like her
husband, but unlike him, she was inclined to be a little more kindly
toward their captive.
The young King took no more notice of her than he had of Simon. For two
days he would touch neither food nor drink, persisting always in his
obstinate silence. On the third day some municipals came to pay a visit
of inspection. Rushing to them, the child demanded with blazing eyes:
"Where is the law by which you keep me from my mother? Show me the law!
I wish to see it!" The men only laughed, but Simon dragged him away,
exclaiming:
"Silence, Little Capet! What do you know about the law, young fool?"
When the visitors had gone, he continued:
"Now that I see you have not forgotten how to speak, I shall teach you
to shout 'Vive la Republique!' and dance the Carmagnole. We will make a
brave little patriot of you!"
Time went on, and gradually the poor child learned that stubbornness
would prove of little avail, so he resigned himself to his cruel master
with as good grace as he could. He never forgot, however, that he was a
king, and his actions were always dignified and manly. His mother,
failing in her demand to see him, had his books and playthings sent
down, that he might both amuse himself and continue his studies. The
things were all dumped into a corner in a heap. Simon 'pooh-poohed' at
the books and used their pages to light his pipe. The toys he either
stepped on or threw away, as the fancy took him.
"I'll give thee something to amuse thee, and instruct thee too!" he
volunteered one day, and presented his charge with a little concertina.
"Now pipe away on that! Thy wolf of a mother can play, and thy dog of an
aunt can sing. Thou shalt learn to accompany them! It will be a fine
racket!" Louis Charles pushed the instrument away from him. The coarse
remarks about his mother and aunt stung him to the quick. "I do not wish
it!" he said quietly. Simon was furious! He had taken the trouble to
make the little wretch a gift, and it was scorned!
"Peste! You shall suffer for this!" he threatened. And suffer the poor
child did for many a long day, in consequence of that refusal. Yet no
brutality ever induced him to touch the hated instrument. Simon finally
gave it up.
When he entered under the cobbler's yoke, the little king had worn a
suit of black clothes, in memory of his father. Simon's jealous eye was
not long in perceiving that the child was fond of these clothes, since
his mother had fashioned them.
"It's time you left those off!" he announced one day. "I'll have no one
about me mourning for old Capet! We'll have a gay little new suit made
for you!" Louis begged and pleaded to no avail. A few days after, he was
arrayed in a little coat and trousers of the Revolutionary red, and a
bright red liberty-cap. The boy donned the suit sadly but without
resistance. But when it came to the liberty-cap, nothing would induce
him to let it be placed on his head. He fought and struggled wildly
against wearing the headdress of his father's murderers. It was only
through Madame Simon's interference that the cobbler gave up the
contest.
"Come, come!" she said. "Let be! Another time perhaps, he will listen to
reason!" The child gave her a grateful glance that she never forgot.
In addition to his other hardships, the young king was obliged to wait
on his two captors, and run at their beck and call like the meanest
servant. He performed his tasks without a murmur, and counted himself
fortunate if he were not rewarded by a kick, or a cuff on the ear.
One morning while it was yet dark, Louis XVII awoke on his hard
truckle-bed. All days now were bad enough and sad enough, but he somehow
had a presentiment that this one would be worse than the rest. He rose
shivering, lighted a little foot-stove, and took it to Madame Simon's
bed as he had been directed to do. She scolded him sleepily for not
bringing it sooner, and his heart ached as he recalled how he used to
lay a bouquet from his garden at Versailles on his mother's bed every
morning. Oh, the hideous difference! After his scanty breakfast, he
caught the eye of Simon fastened upon him, with some new, malignant
interest in its gaze.
"Thou art bewigged like a royal courtier!" growled the cobbler, passing
his rough hand over the silky curls. "'Tis little like a good
Republican's head. This must go!" With a huge pair of shears, he hacked
into the thick hair with great, jagged strokes. In a few moments the
curls all lay on the floor, and Louis Charles stood like a shorn lamb,
heartbroken but tearless, before his tormentor. Then the cobbler took
his charge down to the courtyard for his daily breath of fresh air. Some
of the soldiers, at the sight of the poor, ill-cropped head, laughed
immoderately. Only one commissary, Meunier, said regretfully:
"Why have you hacked off all the hair that was so becoming, Simon?"
"Oh, don't you see! We are playing at a game of despoiling kings!"
chuckled Simon. Again the soldiers laughed. The child, always peculiarly
sensitive to mockery, hung his head and turned away, losing all desire
to run about with his football. He was glad when Simon took him in
again.
That night the cobbler made him drink two glasses of bad wine. As he had
heretofore never touched anything but water, it made him stupid and
heavy. Perhaps he did not quite understand what was happening. Perhaps
his spirit was at last beginning to break. But, at any rate, when Simon
said to him:
"Now here's your nice red cap! Put it on!" the boy, worn out with
struggling, yielded at last.
"Ah! Now thou art a true _sans-culotte_!" cried Simon in triumph. And he
crowned the shorn head of Louis XVII with the badge of the Commune!
HOW YVONNE SAW THE KING