The Countess of Charny; or, The Execution of King Louis XVI

On the appointed day they set out on the two hundred league tramp, as if it were a day's strolling. Why not? They were hardy seamen, rugged peasants, sunburned by the African simoom or the mountain gale, with hands callous from the spade or tough with tar.

Wherever they passed along they were hailed as brigands.

In a halt they received the words and music of Rouget de l'Isle's "Hymn to Liberty," sent as a viaticum by Barbaroux to shorten the road. The lips of the Marseilles men made it change in character, while the words were altered by their new emphasis. The song of brotherhood became one of death and extermination – forever "the Marseillaise."

Barbaroux had planned to head with the Marseilles men some forty thousand volunteers Santerre was to have ready to meet them, overwhelm the City Hall and the House, and then storm the palace. But Santerre went to greet them with only two hundred men, not liking to let the strangers have the glory of such a rush.

With ardent eyes, swart visages, and shrill voices, the little band strode through all Paris to the Champs Elysées, singing the thrilling song. They camped there, awaiting the banquet on the morrow.

It took place, but some grenadiers were arrayed close to the spot, a Royalist guard set as a rampart between them and the palace.

They divined they were enemies, and commencing by insults, they went on to exchanging fisticuffs. At the first blood the Marseillaise shouted "To arms!" raided the stacks of muskets, and sent the grenadiers flying with their own bayonets. Luckily, they had the Tuileries at their backs and got over the draw-bridge, finding shelter in the royal apartments. There is a legend that the queen bound up the wounds of one soldier.

The Federals numbered five thousand – Marseilles men, Bretons, and Dauphinois. They were a power, not from their number, but their faith. The spirit of the revolution was in them.

They had fire-arms but no ammunition; they called for cartridges, but none were supplied. Two of them went to the mayor and demanded powder, or they would kill themselves in the office.

Two municipal officers were on duty – Sergent, Danton's man, and Panis, Robespierre's.

Sergent had artistic imagination and a French heart; he felt that the young men spoke with the voice of the country.

"Look out, Panis," he said; "if these youths kill themselves, the blood will fall on our heads."

"But if we deliver the powder without authorization, we risk our necks."

"Never mind. I believe the time has come to risk our necks. In that case, everybody for himself," replied Sergent. "Here goes for mine; you can do as you like."

He signed the delivery note, and Panis put his name to it.

Things were easier now; when the Marseilles men had powder and shot they would not let themselves be butchered without hitting back.

As soon as they were armed, the Assembly received their petition, and allowed them to attend the session. The Assembly was in great fear, so much so as to debate whether it ought not to transfer the meetings to the country. For everybody stood in doubt, feeling the ground to quake underfoot and fearing to be swallowed.

This wavering chafed the southerners. No little disheartened, Barbaroux talked of founding a republic in the south.

He turned to Robespierre, to see if he would help to set the ball rolling. But the Incorruptible's conditions gave him suspicions, and he left him, saying:

"We will no more have a dictator than a king."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FRIEND IN NEED

The very thing encouraging the Tuileries party was what awed the rebels.

The palace had become a formidable fortress, with a dreadful garrison.

During the night of the fourth of August, the Swiss battalions had been drawn from out of town into the palace. A few companies were left at Gaillon, where the king might take refuge.

Three reliable leaders were beside the queen: Maillardet with his Switzers, Hervilly with the St. Louis Knights and the Constitutional Guard, and Mandat, who, as National Guard commander, promised twenty thousand devoted and resolute fighting men.

On the evening of the eighth a man penetrated the fort; everybody knew him, so that he had no difficulty in passing to the queen's rooms, where they announced "Doctor Gilbert."

"Ah, welcome, welcome, doctor!" said the royal lady, in a feverish voice, "I am happy to see you."

He looked sharply at her, for on the whole of her face was such gladness and satisfaction that it made him shudder. He would sooner have seen her pale and disheartened.

"I fear I have arrived too late," he said.

"It is just the other way, doctor," she replied, with a smile, an expression her lips had almost forgotten how to make; "you come at the right time, and you are welcome. You are going to see what I have long yearned to show you – a king really royal."

"I am afraid, madame, that you are deceiving yourself," he returned, "and that you will exhibit rather the commandant of a fort."

"Perhaps, Doctor Gilbert, we can never come to a closer understanding on the symbolical character of royalty than on other matters. For me a king is not solely a man who may say, 'I do not wish,' but one who can say, 'Thus I will.'"

She alluded to the famous veto which led to this crisis.

"Yes, madame," said Gilbert, "and for your majesty, a king is a ruler who takes revenge."

"Who defends himself," she retorted; "for you know we are openly threatened, and are to be attacked by an armed force. We are assured that five hundred desperadoes from Marseilles, headed by one Barbaroux, took an oath on the ruins of the Bastile, not to go home until they had camped on the ruins of the Tuileries."

"Indeed, I have heard something of the kind," remarked Gilbert.

"Which only makes you laugh?"

"It alarms me for the king and yourself, madame."

"So that you come to propose that we should resign, and place ourselves at the mercy of Messieurs Barbaroux and his Marseilles bullies?"

"I only wish the king could abdicate and guarantee, by the sacrifice of his crown, his life and yours, and the safety of your children."

"Is this the advice you give us, doctor?"

"It is; and I humbly beseech you to follow it."

"Monsieur Gilbert, let me say that you are not consistent in your opinions."

"My opinions are always the same, madame. Devoted to king and country, I wished him to be in accord with the Constitution; from this desire springs the different pieces of counsel which I have submitted."

"What is the one you fit to this juncture?"

"One that you have never had such a good chance to follow. I say, get away."

"Flee?"

"Ah, you well know that it is possible, and never could be carried out with greater facility. You have nearly three thousand men in the palace."

"Nearer five thousand," said the queen, with a smile of satisfaction, "with double to rise at the first signal we give."