Madame Tussaud recalled from Versailles--The 12th of July,
1789--Busts taken from Curtius’s Exhibition--A Garde Française
slain in the mêlée.
It must be remembered that the “romance” of Madame Tussaud’s began in the
French capital one hundred and fifty years ago.
As we view to-day the quaint little figure of Madame which stands in the
Exhibition she helped to found in France and established in this country,
we must imagine her in the full vigour of her young womanhood, sensible
to the dangers and terrors of the Revolution in which she was about to be
involved. The Exhibition was as yet in its infancy; but stirring times
were approaching, and the days were pregnant with meaning for the France
that was to be--a time of bloodshed and grim ruthlessness born of a
people’s desire for freedom, and attended by ghastly scenes in Paris that
revealed the extremities to which unbridled human passions could go.
We must see through her eyes the sights that marked the red dawn of the
French Revolution; and hear the first low rumble that gave warning of the
approach of the Reign of Terror. Her uncle recalled her from the Court of
Versailles, an order that he might afford her his protection, and she
did not leave a whit too soon.
Now we come to the fateful days of July.
The Three Estates had been fused into one on the 27th of June with the
assent of the King, who thus virtually signed his own death-warrant.
Another step soon followed in the same disastrous course. The Queen and
her intimate advisers caused Louis to make an attempt to maintain his
authority by force, and for this purpose an army of 40,000 men, drawn
from various quarters, was concentrated upon Paris and its vicinity, and
placed under the orders of Marshal Broglie.
Among these troops were several regiments of Swiss and Germans. At that
moment Necker, whom the Court party distrusted and feared, was forced to
relinquish his office, and commanded to leave France forthwith.
The 12th of July was a Sunday, and on the morning of that day an
extraordinary degree of activity was observed among the troops in Paris.
The nerves of the people became overwrought; they were apprehensive of
imminent danger--some hidden design, some sinister motive, on the part
of the newly appointed Ministers (including the hated Foulon, who had
succeeded the beloved Necker) whose policy they could not fathom.
Before midday the Palais Royal was crowded with people, wondering what
all this military movement could mean, and gazing at the strange placards
which bade them stay at home and avoid all meetings.
The half-discredited rumour of the dismissal of Necker spread like
wild-fire through the capital, and the first person who made the
announcement was about to be ducked in one of the water basins in the
gardens of the Palais Royal, when a Deputy of the Third Estate, who
happened to be standing by, confirmed the news.
[Illustration: CAMILLE DESMOULINS
Young enthusiast who stirred the populace of Paris to riotous
demonstration on hearing of the dismissal of Necker.]
Everyone in the gardens was at once made acquainted with the fall of the
people’s favourite; and as the cannon of the Palais made known, as usual,
the fact that the hour of noon had arrived, a young man named Camille
Desmoulins sprang upon a table outside the Café Foy, and, brandishing a
drawn sword and pistol, called “To arms!” He then harangued with burning
eloquence the people who crowded around him, and fired their imagination
at the close of his oration by plucking a leaf from a tree (green being
the colour of Necker’s livery) and placing it in his hat as a cockade, an
example that was followed by thousands.
The theatres and other places of amusement were closed as a sign of
mourning for Necker, who was loudly acclaimed on every side.
Then it was suggested that the models of Necker and the Duke of Orléans
should be obtained from Curtius’s Museum. The idea was quickly seized
upon, and the crowd rushed _en masse_ to the Exhibition rooms on the
Boulevard du Temple, where they demanded the busts of the “friends of
the people.” They also asked for the model of the King, a request that
was refused by Curtius, who observed that as the full-length figure was
extremely heavy it would be “broken” if carried. This reply pleased the
people, who clapped their hands and shouted “Bravo, Curtius, bravo!”
[Illustration: M. NECKER
Director-General of Finance under Louis XVI, whose bust, taken from
Curtius’s exhibit by the mob, was carried through the streets of Paris to
fan the flame of revolution.]
Deeming it imprudent not to respond to the public clamour, Curtius
relinquished the busts of the two public idols; and as soon as they had
gained possession of them the mob shouted “Long live Necker!” “Long live
the Duke of Orléans!” and “Down with the foreign troops!”
As an expression of grief at the loss of their favourites they covered
the busts with crape. Then, elevating them upon pedestals, they carried
them through the streets of Paris in triumph.
On rolled the procession through the Rue de Richelieu, the Boulevard, the
streets of St. Martin, St. Denis, and St. Honoré, increasing in numbers
at every step, among them men of the Garde Française, till it came to the
Place Vendôme, where the busts were carried twice round the statue of
Louis XIV. _En route_ the crowd obliged all they met to take off their
hats in honour of the men the busts represented. By the time the great
throng reached the Place Vendôme it had become 5,000 or 6,000 strong.
Here a detachment of royal troops came up, and vainly attempted to
disperse the mob. The crowd pelted the soldiers with stones, and, having
put them to flight, proceeded to the Place Louis XV, where they were
assailed by the German troops of the Prince de Lambesc. The cavalry
charged the mob with drawn sabres, and the bearers of the busts were
thrown down beneath their burdens.
Again and again they were raised, only to fall once more. The figure of
Necker was cleft asunder by a soldier of the Royal German Regiment. A man
named Pepin, a hawker of articles of drapery, was wounded by a bullet in
the leg, and fell by the side of the broken figure. That representing the
Duke of Orléans escaped destruction; but a member of the Civic Guard,
while endeavouring to protect it, lost his life, and several other
persons were wounded in attempting to assist him. It was the first blood
shed in the Revolution, which may thus be regarded as having broken out
at the very doors of the Exhibition in Paris.
Thomas Carlyle gives, in his _French Revolution_, the following
characteristic account of the incident:
TO ARMS!
Sunday, 12th July, 1789.
France, so long shaken and wind-parched, is probably at the
right inflammable point. As for poor Curtius who, one grieves
to think, might be but imperfectly paid, he cannot make two
words about his Images. The Wax-bust of Necker, the Wax-bust of
D’Orléans, helpers of France: these, covered with crape, as in
funeral procession, or after the manner of suppliants appealing
to Heaven, to Earth, and Tartarus itself, a mixed multitude
bears off. For a sign! As indeed man, with his singular
imaginative faculties, can do little or nothing without
signs: Thus Turks look to their Prophet’s Banner; also Osier
_Mannikins_ have been burnt, and Necker’s Portrait has erewhile
figured, aloft on its perch.
In this manner march they, a mixed, continually increasing
multitude; armed with axes, staves, and miscellanea; grim,
many-sounding through the streets. Be all Theatres shut; let
all dancing on planked floor, or on the natural greensward,
cease! Instead of a Christian Sabbath, and feast of
_guinguitte_ tabernacles, it shall be a Sorcerer’s Sabbath;
and Paris, gone rabid, dance--with the Fiend for piper!
However, Besenval, with horse and foot, is in the Place Louis
Quinze. Mortals promenading homewards, in the fall of the
day, saunter by, from Chaillot or Passy, from flirtation and
a little thin wine; with sadder step than usual. Will the
Bust-Procession pass that way? Behold it; behold also Prince
Lambesc dash forth on it, with his Royal-Allemands! Shots fall,
and sabre-strokes; Busts are hewed asunder; and, alas, also
heads of men. A sabred Procession has nothing for it but to
_explode_, along what streets, alleys, Tuileries Avenues it
finds; and disappear. One unarmed man lies hewed down; a Garde
Française by his uniform; bear him (or bear even the report
of him) dead and gory to his Barracks;--where he has comrades
still alive!--_French Revolution_, Chapter IV.
[Illustration: THOMAS CARLYLE]
It was on this very day, the 12th of July, after the incidents just
described, that the famous reply was made to the King by Liancourt.
Upon his apprising His Majesty of the ferment in Paris, Louis remarked,
“Why, it is a revolt, then?” “No, sire,” rejoined the Minister, “it is a
_revolution_!”[1]
[1] This reply has been erroneously asserted to have been made by
Liancourt on the evening of the 14th of July, the day of the capture of
the Bastille; it was really given as stated above.