In the meantime thousands more Parisians had taken the road to Versailles, Roger amongst them. As he was mounted he outdistanced most of the marchers, but on his arrival he learned that the poissardes, as the fishwives were called, had already invaded the Assembly and were demanding bread from the deputies.
The weather was wet, cold and windy, so as Roger rode on with his head well down, towards the royal stables, he failed to notice another horseman who passed through its arched gateway a hundred yards ahead of him. It was only on having dismounted that they came face to face and recognized one another. The man who had arrived just before him was Auguste-Marie, Comte de la Marck, the son of the Empress Maria Theresa's great general, the Prince d'Arenberg. I/RS
"I thought you gone into exile, Mr. Brook," exclaimed the handsome young Austrian.
"And I, that you had done so," Roger smiled. "I went to England for a while, but returned to Paris last week."
"I went no further than the capital, and have been living in the hotel of Monsieur de Mercy-Argenteau."
Roger raised an eyebrow at the name of the Austrian Ambassador. "Since His Excellency has long been accounted Her Majesty's closest adviser, I should have thought that far from wise."
"The Embassy is Austrian territory," shrugged de la Marck, "so it is probably as safe a place as any other in that now accursed city."
As they were speaking they had hurried inside, and the Comte added: "I take ft you, too, have come to warn Their Majesties of the dangerous mob advancing on Versailles?"
"They must be ill-served if they do not know of it already," replied Roger. "But since it looks as if there may be serious trouble, I felt an urge to place myself at their disposal."
De la Marck knew the ramifications of the vast palace, and its routine, much better than Roger, so he led the way to several places where it was likely the Queen might be at that hour of the afternoon; but she was in none of them, and after a wasted twenty minutes they learnt that, accompanied only by a single footman, she had gone for a walk in her garden at Trianon. With the King they were equally unlucky; he was out hunting. In the Council Chamber they found half a dozen gentlemen, apparently conversing idly, amongst whom there was only one Minister, the Comte de St. Priest.
But among them also, to Roger's surprise and delight, was de Vaudreuil; so, leaving de la Marck to talk to the Minister, he ran over and shook hands English fashion with his old friend.
De Vaudreuil said that after taking his family to Brussels, he had decided that as a Lieutenant-General of Marine it was his duty to return. He had done so three weeks earlier; the Queen had received him most graciously, and told him of Roger's generous but abortive attempt to clear up this misunderstanding on the night that she had sent so many of her best friends abroad.
De la Marck joined them at that moment. It appeared that the poissardes had left the Assembly and were now gathered outside the the palace demanding to see the King. The Comte de St. Priest had sent messengers to find His Majesty, the Queen and also Monsieur Necker; but he was not in the least perturbed, and insisted that the trouble amounted to nothing graver than a bread riot.
Roger joined de la Marck in protesting. Both averred that they had passed armed bands advancing on Versailles. The young Austrian went further and declared that his Embassy had received intelligence that there was a plot on foot to assassinate the Queen, as the only person who had the courage to order armed resistance to the extremists.
The Minister still refused to be convinced, and he was now supported by his colleague the Comte de Montmorin, who had joined the party a few moments earlier.
With de la Marck, de Vaudreuil, the Marshal de Beauveau, the Due de Luxembourg and the Comte de la Tour du Pin, Roger withdrew to a corner of the room. There they remained for a few moments muttering angrily together. The Foreign Minister, Montmorin, was known to be a creature of the weak-kneed Necker, and St. Priest had also fallen and risen again with the Swiss, so the Queen's friends had good reason to suspect a policy of "better that the King should grovel than we should lose favour with the mob"; but they were powerless to take any steps for the defence of the palace without the Minister's authority.
At last the King arrived and the Queen appeared shortly after him. The Council chamber was cleared and he agreed to receive a deputation of poissardes. The deputy Mounier presented six women, and die King told them that if he had had any bread to give they would not have had to walk to Versailles to ask for it, for he would have sent it to Paris already. Much affected by his sincerity they rejoined their companions outside and endeavoured to pacify them; but they were mobbed and narrowly escaped being hanged from lamp-posts as a result of their sudden change of heart.
The original crowd of women had now been reinforced by hundreds of armed roughs; but the lattice gates in the iron railings that separated the Place d'Armes—as the great square of the town was called—from the courtyards of the palace had been closed against the first arrivals; and the courts were now manned by the Regiment de Flandres and the Garde du Corps. The Due de Luxembourg, fearing that the gates would be forced, and having standing orders that without the King's authority the people were never to be fired upon, went to the Monarch and asked for emergency orders.
"Orders !" laughed the King, who knew only what his Ministers had told him. "Orders for war against women I You must be joking, Monsieur de Luxembourg."
Darkness fell and several times the mob attacked the gates. A number of skirmishes occurred with the more audacious who scaled the railings, but the troops succeeded in repelling the assaults without firing on the crowd. It was still pouring with rain, but the angry multitude would not disperse, and continued to howl without while the King held a series of Councils within.
The deputy Mounier had remained, and he importuned the King to sign a carte-blanche approval of the new Constitution, as a means of pacifying the people. The King protested against giving his consent to a Constitution that had not yet been formulated, but Necker was now present and urged him to, so eventually he gave way. His complaisance effected nothing, as the mob booed Mounier when he announced this triumph for democracy snatched in an emergency, and roared at him that it was not interested in political rights for tomorrow; it wanted bread today.
The Queen paid several visits to the Council Chamber and at other times paced restlessly up and down the long gallery; but even in her extreme agitation she gave smiles and a few words of recognition to de la Marck, Roger, and a number of other gentlemen who had arrived from Paris to offer their services.
From the scraps about the Council's deliberations that leaked out, it appeared that Monsieur de St. Priest now, belatedly, realized that the lives of the Royal Family were actually in danger; so he and several other Ministers advised an immediate flight to Rambouillet and that the troops should be ordered into action against the insurgents. But the King's evil genius, Necker, and Montmorin, opposed the plan; and by insisting to the Monarch that it must lead to civil war persuaded him to reject it.
At eleven o'clock news came in that Lafayette was advancing from Paris with the National Guard, and that their intention was to take the King forcibly to Paris. Only then did the irresolute man give way to the prayers of those who were begging him to save himself while there was still time. Six carriages were ordered and the Queen, courageously endeavouring to prevent a panic, quietly told her ladies to pack their immediate requirements as they would be leaving in half an hour's time.
But, either through stupidity or treachery, the carriages were ordered round to the gate of the Orangerie, to reach which they had to cross the Place d'Armes. The crowd, determined to remain where they were until morning despite the rain and wind, had now lit bonfires in the square, and were erecting rough bivouacs under the trees for the night. On seeing the carriages they at once guessed the King's intention and rushed upon them. Four were instantly seized and stopped; the two leading ones, driven at greater speed, succeeded in reaching the Orangerie, but again, probably through treachery, the gates were found to be locked. The mob caught them up, cut the traces of the horses, and smashed the carriages to matchwood.