Mistress of the Revolution (30 page)

“The imbeciles represent less than one percent of the population, and they think they can refuse to join the Third Estate! What do they expect? That the King, prompted by the Queen, will support their position? He will abandon the nobility, as he has abandoned every cause he has ever defended. If we noblemen do not join the National Assembly, the Revolution will happen without us, and that will mean against us.”

Everyone was now speaking of the “Revolution” as a matter of course. It was already a fact that admitted of no discussion. The King declared the deliberations of the National Assembly void in their entirety. He also threatened to dissolve the Estates General if they persisted in their position to meet as a single body. Nonetheless, a minority of the noblemen, forty-seven of them, led by the Duke d’Orléans and including Villers, Lauzun and Lafayette, seceded from the rest of their Order and joined the Third Estate.

Two days later, as Villers had predicted, the King reversed his position and invited the holdovers from the Nobility and the Clergy to join the National Assembly. He was thus placing himself at the head of the Revolution, or, depending on one’s opinion, trailing it.

At the same time, the King ordered the regiments of the French army that were composed of foreigners, mostly Swiss and Germans mercenaries, altogether 20,000 men, to surround Paris. No one doubted that his real goal was to crush the capital if it showed any sign of siding with the new Assembly. Public opinion blamed that decision, which was to have such momentous consequences, on the Queen’s influence. The bourgeois of Paris, meanwhile, started a militia, called the National Guard, to protect the city against the anticipated attack.

One night at the beginning of July, Villers came home from the National Assembly earlier than usual.

“Pack your things, Belle,” he said. “I am taking you and Aimée to Vaucelles tonight.”

“What is happening?”

“A German regiment has already set camp in the park of the Palace, and another has taken its quarters at the Orangerie there. The royal family is preparing to leave Versailles for a fortified city close to the Austrian border. You know what it means. The King will seek the help of Emperor Joseph, the Queen’s brother, while the Swiss and German regiments are going to attack Paris and the Assembly here in Versailles. The Count d’Artois, the King’s youngest brother, has publicly stated that all the Representatives of the Third Estate are going to be hanged. He is only saying aloud what the others are thinking.” Villers took me in his arms. “I have been selfish to keep you here so long, my love. I would never forgive myself if any harm befell you.”

Thus I spent those days of July 1789, which were to have such a bearing on the fate of France and Europe, in the safety of Vaucelles. Villers stayed with me the first night since there was no session of the Assembly on the morrow, which was a Sunday. He spent the following day teaching me how to load, aim and shoot a firearm, and insisted on leaving his best pair of pistols with me.

Villers left Vaucelles on the 13th to rejoin the Assembly. He had asked me, because he was leaving at dawn, not to rise to see him on his way. Yet I did. I kept him embraced a long time before letting him go. His eyes were red when he bid me good-bye. We did not speak much but parted with great regret and a sense of foreboding. So much had happened in the two months since the Estates General had convened and the future seemed very uncertain. All our grievances were forgotten in the sorrow of not knowing whether we would ever see each other again. He went on horseback to attract less attention than in a carriage. His plan was to reach Versailles through country roads without entering Paris, while trying to avoid the foreign troops massed to the south of the capital.

I spent that day in great anxiety and sent Lemoyne, one of the lackeys, to gather news in Paris. He had to turn around at the gates for no one was allowed to enter the city.

“I spoke to the guards at the Charenton Gate, Madam,” he said. “Crowds have attacked the prisons and freed all the French Guards jailed for mutiny. They won’t obey their Colonel anymore. The King’s ready to have all the members of the Assembly arrested in Versailles. They also say that all the noblemen who have joined the Third Estate are going to be beheaded for treason. That means My Lord too, doesn’t it?”

I thanked Lemoyne and gave him a silver
écu
of three francs for his pains. The following day, the 14th of July of the year 1789, was my twentieth birthday. I did not know whether Villers was arrested, sentenced to death or already executed. I was too anxious to read or sit down to any occupation. In an attempt to keep busy, I went for a walk with Aimée in the park. Around five in the afternoon, as we were headed for the river, we heard a booming noise.

“Listen, Mama,” she said, “thunder. Why cannot we see the beautiful golden dragon?”

This was the name she gave lightning. I said nothing to disabuse her of this idea, although I knew that we were hearing the rumbling of a different kind of storm, one of far longer duration and greater import.

Again I sent Lemoyne, the lackey, to Paris. He returned before dark, flushed with excitement.

“The city gates are still closed, Madam,” he said, “but the guards told me that the people stormed the Bastille.”

“It is impossible, Lemoyne. How could the fortress, with its drawbridges and huge walls, be taken by force?”

“That’s what they said, My Lady.”

I went to bed uncertain of what to believe. When Manon helped me dress the next morning, I noticed that she was unusually silent. I saw her several times open her mouth and then close it without uttering a word.

“What is it, Manon?” I asked at last.

“I heard from Junot’s niece, My Lady.”

“Junot, my footman?”

“Yes, My Lady. He was injured in Paris yesterday.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

Manon blushed and looked down. “Please, My Lady, don’t be angry.”

I sighed, wondering what misdeed Junot, a man of mature years and placid temper, could have committed. “Tell me about it. Then I can decide whether to be angry.”

“Well, Madam, yesterday morning, a huge crowd, over 20,000 strong, went to the
Invalides
, close to Your Ladyship’s lodgings. There’s an arsenal within the veterans’ hospital.”

I frowned. “I know. Are you telling me that Junot joined those people?”

“Yes, My Lady. But everything was peaceful. The French Guards took the lead and seized all the guns, pikes and sabres. We need some real soldiers, with real weapons, to defend Paris against those foreign mercenaries. Remember, three days ago, the Royal German Regiment shot at a peaceful crowd and killed a poor old man at the Tuileries. No wonder, their Colonel, the Prince de Lambesc is cousin to the Queen, and she—”

“So what happened to Junot yesterday? Was he hurt at the
Invalides
?”

“No, My Lady. The Governor there didn’t resist. No one was hurt. The crowd took several pieces of cannon from the
Invalides
, but they were short of ammunition. So they went to the Bastille to find some. That’s where everything changed. The garrison of the Bastille fired at the crowd and killed more than a hundred people. Everyone said that the fortress couldn’t be stormed, but the brave French Guards directed the attack. It fell in half an hour.”

“So it is true. What about Junot?”

“Oh, My Lady, people were running in a panic right after the garrison of the Bastille started shooting at the crowd. That’s when he fell. He broke his leg. He was carried to his niece’s lodgings. Now he’s afraid you’ll be angry because he took advantage of your absence to join the crowd. He begs you not to dismiss him.”

I sighed. “At his age, a broken leg is no light matter. Yet he was fortunate. From what you say, he could have been shot dead. You may tell him that he is an old fool and should know better. Has he seen a surgeon?”

“Yes. He won’t be able to resume his service for a month at least. So Your Ladyship won’t turn him out then?”

“No, I will not.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, he’s mightily worried about My Lord. Of course, Madam, Junot is in your employ, but all the same…he would never lie to you, because you’re so kind a mistress. But if you could tell My Lord that Junot fell in the stairs or something like that, he’d be grateful to you till his last day.”

I could not help smiling. “Tell Junot not to worry.”

What Manon did not say was that, after the fall of the Bastille, its garrison was massacred and its Governor beheaded by the crowd. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if the Queen had not used her influence to deny Lauzun his appointment as Colonel of the French Guards. He was always liked by his men for his bravery and cheerful temper. If he had been Colonel of the French Guards instead of the Duke du Châtelet, he might have prevented their mutiny at that crucial time. The course of events turned on small things indeed. A woman’s spite was one of them.

The fall of the Bastille was the signal for the first wave of what would become known as the
émigration
. The Count d’Artois, the King’s youngest brother and most fierce opponent of the Revolution, and other princes of the royal blood, left France. So did the Duchess of Polignac, the Queen’s favourite, with her husband, lover, sister-in-law and pet priest in tow. She never saw her country again and died an exile four years later. I pity her for it, although she was no friend of mine, for it is a fate I now seem bound to share. I have tasted all of its bitterness.

On the 15th, Villers sent me a note informing me that he had returned to Paris with Lafayette and would join me in Vaucelles as soon as he could. At least he was alive. For how much longer I knew not.

Two days later at dusk, I heard the whinnying of a horse and the sound of hooves in the courtyard. I ran outside. Villers dismounted. I threw myself into his arms. He held my face in his hands and greedily kissed my cheeks, my lips, my eyes as if he could not feast enough on them. I had never seen him act in such a manner in front of the servants.

“Belle, my Belle,” he said, “I thought I would never see you again.”

“So did I. Oh, my love, I heard that you would be beheaded.”

He put his arm around my shoulders as we went inside.

“The King has capitulated,” said Villers. “He announced to the Assembly the withdrawal of all foreign regiments. Nothing will ever be the same, Belle. Bailly, the astronomer, now heads the city of Paris, with the title of Mayor, instead of that of Provost of the Merchants. The last Provost was shot dead by the insurgents after the fall of the Bastille. Lafayette has been put in command of the new National Guard. So many things have changed since I last saw you, my love.”

“So you are safe?”

“So it seems, at least for a while. The King went to Paris today. I saw him accept on the steps of the City Hall a tricolour cockade from the hands of Lafayette. The white, representing the Crown, is surrounded by the blue and red, the colours of Paris. Quite a powerful symbol: the monarchy besieged by the people of Paris.”

“These also happen to be the colours of the American flag,” I said.

“True, my Belle. It must be Lafayette’s idea. I believe the events went to his head, which is not the strongest part of his person. He must now fancy himself the George Washington of France.”

“Still, the fact that the King himself visited Paris is a hopeful sign. The city should be quieter now.”

“Carriages are still not allowed on the streets, but I pinned a tricolour cockade to my hat and had no trouble returning here on horseback. Yet order is not restored. I met with a mob carrying at the end of a pike the head of Bertier de Sauvigny, the King’s
intendant
in Paris, its mouth stuffed with hay. Of course, he had declared that the Parisians, if they were starving, could always eat grass. These words were not forgotten. The people of Paris are indeed hungry and angry.”

The demolition of the Bastille was decreed. I joined the crowds that hurried to visit the fortress while it was still standing. I did not approve of the violence that had followed its fall, but, as almost everyone in Paris, I rejoiced to see it destroyed. It was the symbol of the arbitrary detentions of the Old Regime, of the dreaded
lettres de cachet
. Outside the dismantled fortress, little temporary cafés, sheltered under striped tents, sprang up in the summer heat. The site had become a fashionable excursion in spite of the dust and noise of the demolition. I bought Aimée a game of dominos made from the old stones of the Bastille, which had been turned into all sorts of mementos.

The situation had quieted by the end of July, to the point where I deemed it safe to leave Vaucelles and join Villers in Versailles. Yet the strangest rumours were spreading through the countryside. It was widely believed that the Queen was conspiring with the local nobility to massacre the peasants. As a result, they attacked many châteaux during the summer of ’89, in what would be called
la Grande Peur
, “the Great Fear.”

Since the opening of the Estates General, I had caught sight of the Chevalier des Huttes from time to time in Versailles. We had barely spoken to each other since the duel between my brother and Villers. However, after crossing his path in the Palace, I began a conversation with him, awkward at first, but after a few minutes marked by some return of our former friendship. I knew that he did not wish to call on me in a house rented by Villers, and that Villers himself would not be any happier to know that I had received the Chevalier, so we agreed to meet in the salons of the Palace once a week.

The Chevalier remained staunchly loyal to his Queen. He expressed the point of view that the conduct of “my friends,” as he called Villers, Lauzun and the noblemen who had joined the Third Estate in June, was tantamount to treason. I did not conceal my difference of opinion. We therefore agreed to never talk about politics, since it was a subject of conversation unlikely to give either of us any kind of pleasure.

Around the end of July, we met again. I was impatient to hear whether there was any truth to the rumours of the Great Fear.

“Have you received any news from my brother?” I asked the Chevalier.

“You need not worry, My Lady. He is unharmed, although the peasants did attack Fontfreyde. They intended to burn the old deeds proving the existence of your family’s feudal rights. The Marquis, as could be expected, displayed great courage. Although he may not be popular with everyone, he has always known how to keep his vassals in their place. After he addressed them from the top of the outside staircase, they withdrew, their hats off, without causing any damage. Your sister, the Countess de Chavagnac, is also safe. The peasants also marched against the château of Saint-Hippolite, and her husband had a stroke during the attack. That scared the rabble away and saved the archives from destruction. I am sorry to report that he is not expected to live many weeks longer.”

I wondered how much sorrow Madeleine would feel if she too became a widow.

“How sad,” I said. “What about Cénac?”

“Things did not go well there, Madam. The current Baron is not so well liked as your late husband. He was made to watch, with the Baroness at his side, while the château was ransacked, the furniture thrown out of the windows and the archives burnt. The peasants even molested him.”

It was with great relief that I learned of my brother’s and sister’s safety. Yet I pictured with some satisfaction the new Baron and Baroness de Peyre, pitchforks pointed at their stomachs, forced to watch the sacking of Cénac. My feelings, as usual, must have been easy to read.

“There is nothing amusing about it, Madam,” said the Chevalier, frowning. “If the audacity of the rabble is not checked, both in Paris and in the provinces, the country is doomed. The King has shown towards those responsible for the troubles an amazing leniency, which those scoundrels have interpreted as weakness.”