CHAPTER XIII.
THE REPULSE.
At this point, Captain Durler, of the Switzers, went up to the king toget orders from him or the major-general. The latter perceived the goodcaptain as he was looking for some usher to introduce him.
"What do you want, captain?" he inquired.
"You, my Lord Charny, as you are the garrison commander. I want thefinal orders, as the head of the insurrectionary column appears on theCarrousel."
"You are not to let them force their way through, the king havingdecided to die in the midst of us."
"Rely on us, major-general," briefly replied Captain Durler, going backto his men with this order, which was their death-sentence.
As he said, the van of the rebels was in sight. It was the thousandpikemen, at the head of whom marched some twenty Marseilles men andfifteen French Guardsmen; in the ranks of the latter gleamed thebullion epaulets of a National Guards captain. This young officer wasAnge Pitou, who had been recommended by Billet, and was charged with amission of which we shall hear more.
Behind these, at a quarter-mile distance, came a considerable body ofNational Guards and Federals, preceded by a twelve-gun battery.
When the garrison commandant's order was transmitted to them, the Swissfell silently into line and resolutely stood, with cold and gloomyfirmness.
Less severely disciplined, the National Guards took up their post moredisorderly and noisily, but with equal resolution.
The nobles, badly marshaled, and armed with striking weapons only, asswords or short-range pistols, and aware that the combat would be tothe death, saw the moment approach with feverish glee when they couldgrapple with their ancient adversary, the people, the eternal athletealways thrown, but growing the stronger during eight centuries.
While the besieged were taking places, knocking was heard at the royalcourt-yard gate, and many voices shouting: "A flag of truce!" Over thewall at this spot was seen a white handkerchief tied to the tip of apike-staff.
Roederer was on his way to the king when he saw this at the gate andordered it to be opened. The janitor did so, and then ran off as fastas he could. Roederer confronted the foremost of the revolutionists.
"My friends," said he, "you wanted the gates open to a flag of truce,and not to an army. Who wants to hold the parley?"
"I am your man," said Pitou, with his sweet voice and bland smile.
"Who are you?"
"Captain Ange Pitou, of the Haramont Federal Volunteers."
Roederer did not know who the Haramont Federals were, but he judged itnot worth while to inquire when time was so precious.
"What are you wanting?"
"I want way through for myself and my friends."
Pitou's friends, who were in rags, brandished their pikes, and lookedwith their savage eyes like dangerous enemies indeed.
"What do you want to go through here for?"
"To go and surround the Assembly. We have twelve guns, but shall notuse e'er a one if you do as we wish."
"What do you wish?"
"The dethronement of the king."
"This is a grave question, sir," observed Roederer.
"Very grave," replied Pitou, with his customary politeness.
"It calls for some debate."
"That is only fair," returned Ange. "It is going on ten o'clock, lessthe quarter," said he; "if we do not have an answer by ten as itstrikes, we shall begin our striking, too."
"Meanwhile, I suppose you will let us shut the door?"
Pitou ordered his crowd back; and the door was closed; but throughthe momentarily open door the besiegers had caught a glimpse of theformidable preparations made to receive them.
As soon as the door was closed, Pitou's followers had a keen desire tokeep on parleying.
Some were hoisted upon their comrades' shoulders, so that they couldbestride the wall, where they began to chat with the National Guardsmeninside. These shook hands with them, and they were merry together asthe quarter of an hour passed.
Then a man came from the palace with the word that they were to be letin.
The invaders believed that they had their request granted, and theyflocked in as soon as the doors were opened, like men who had beenkept waiting--all in a heap. They stuck their caps on their pikes andwhooped "Hurrah for the nation!"--"Long live the National Guard!"--"TheSwiss forever!"
The National Guard echoed the shout of the nation, but the Swiss kept agloomy and sinister muteness.
The inrush only ceased when the intruders were up to the cannonmuzzles, where they stopped to look around.
The main vestibule was crammed with Swiss, three deep; on each step wasa rank, so that six could fire at once.
Some of the invaders, including Pitou, began to consider, although itwas rather late to reflect.
But though seeing the danger, the mob did not think of running away;it tried to turn it by jesting with the soldiers. The Guards took thejoking as it was made, but the Swiss looked glum, for something hadhappened five minutes before the insurrectionary column marched up.
In the quarrel between the Guards and the grenadiers over the insultto Mandat, the former had parted from the Royalist guards, and as theywent off they said good-bye to the Swiss, whom they wanted to go awaywith them.
They said that they would receive in their own homes as brothers any ofthe Swiss who would come with them.
Two from the Waldenses--that is, French Swiss--replied to the appealmade in their own tongue, and took the French by the hand. At the sameinstant two shots were fired up at the palace windows, and bulletsstruck the deserters in the very arms of those who decoyed them away.
Excellent marksmen as chamois-hunters, the Swiss officers had nippedthe mutiny thus in the bud. It is plain now why the other Swiss weremute.
The men who had rushed into the yard were such as always oddlyrun before all outbreaks. They were armed with new pikes and oldfire-arms--that is, worse than unarmed.
The cannoniers had come over to their side, as well as the NationalGuards, and they wanted to induce the Switzers to do the same.
They did not notice that time was passing and that the quarter of anhour Pitou had given Roederer had doubled; it was now a quarter pastten. They were having a good time; why should they worry?
One tatterdemalion had not a sword or a pike, but a pruning-hook, andhe said to his next neighbor:
"Suppose I were to fish for a Swiss?"
"Good idea! Try your luck," said the other.
So he hooked a Swiss by the belt and drew him toward him, the soldierresisting just enough to make out that he was dragged.
"I have got a bite," said the fisher for men.
"Then, haul him in, but go gently," said his mate.
The man with the hook drew softly indeed, and the guardsman was drawnout of the entrance into the yard, like a fish from the pond onto thebank. Up rose loud whoops and roars of laughter.
"Try for another," said the crowd.
The fisherman hooked another, and jerked him out like the first. And soit went on to the fourth and the fifth, and the whole regiment mighthave melted away but for the order, "Make ready--take aim!"
On seeing the muskets leveled with the regular sound and precisemovement marking evolutions of regular troops, one of theassailants--there is always some crazy-head to give the signal forslaughter under such circumstances--fired a pistol at the palacewindows.
During the short space separating "Make ready" and "Fire" in thecommand, Pitou guessed what was going to happen.
"Flat on your faces!" he shouted to his men; "down flat, or you are alldead men!"
Suiting the action to the word, he flung himself on the ground.
Before there was time for his advice to be generally followed, the word"Fire!" rang in the entrance-way, which was filled with a crashingnoise and smoke, while a hail of lead was spit forth as from one hugeblunderbuss.
The compact mass--for perhaps half the column had entered theyard--swayed like the wheat-field before the gust,
then like the samecropped by the scythe, reeled and fell down. Hardly a third was leftalive.
These few fled, passing under the fire from two lines of guns and thebarracks firing at close range. The musketeers would have killed eachother but for the thick screen of fugitives between.
This curtain was ripped in wide places; four hundred men were stretchedon the ground pavement, three hundred slain outright.
The hundred, more or less badly injured, groaned and tried to rise, butfalling, gave part of the field of corpses a movement like the oceanswell, frightful to behold.
But gradually all died out, and apart from a few obstinate fellows whopersisted in living, all fell into immobility.
The fugitives scattered over the Carrousel Square, and flowed out onthe water-side on one hand and on the street by the other, yelling,"Murder--help! we were drawn into a death-trap."
On the New Bridge, they fell in with the main body. The bulk wascommanded by two men on horseback, closely attended by one on foot, whoseemed to have a share in the command.
"Help, Citizen Santerre!" shouted the flyers, recognizing in one ofthe riders the big brewer of St. Antoine, by his colossal stature, forwhich his huge Flemish horse was but a pedestal in keeping; "help! theyare slaughtering our brothers."
"Who are?" demanded the brewer-general.
"The Swiss--they shot us down while we were cheek by jowl with them,a-kissing them."
"What do you think of this?" asked Santerre of the second horseman.
"Vaith, me dink of dot milidary broverb which it say: 'De soldier oughtto march to where he hear dot gun-firing going on,'" replied the otherrider, who was a small, fair man, with his hair cropped short, speakingwith a strong German accent. "Zubbose we go where de goons go off, eh?"
"Hi! you had a young officer with you," called out the leader on footto one of the runaways; "I don't see anything of him."
"He was the first to be dropped, citizen representative; and the more'sthe pity, for he was a brave young chap."
"Yes, he was a brave young man," replied, with a slight loss of color,the man addressed as a member of the House, "and he shall be bravelyavenged. On you go, Citizen Santerre!"
"I believe, my dear Billet," said the brewer, "that in such a pinch wemust call experience into play as well as courage."
"As you like."
"In consequence, I propose to place the command in the hands of CitizenWesterman--a real general and a friend of Danton--offering to obey himlike a common soldier."
"I do not care what you do if you will only march right straightahead," said the farmer.
"Do you accept the command, Citizen Westerman?" asked Santerre.
"I do," said the Russian, laconically.
"In that case give your orders."
"Vorwarts!" shouted Westerman, and the immense column, only halted fora breathing-spell, resumed the route.
As its pioneers entered at the same time the Carrousel by all gates,eleven struck on the Tuileries clocks.