The Rising Storm

by Dennis Wheatley

  There were excellent grounds for such a proposal at the moment, as many of the more outspoken deputies now feared that their defiance of the royal command might be used as an excuse for their arrest; so the motion was passed by an overwhelming majority. The Assembly, having assumed this new sovereign power of the sacredness of its persons, then adjourned.

  After lingering for an hour or so at Versailles, talking to people whom he knew, Roger returned to Paris to find the city in a state of frantic excitement. The King had that day tacitly acknowledged a Constitution; but he had given too little and too late. Good solid citizens as well as the mobs were now alike determined that he should give much more.

  It was rumoured that Necker had resigned and this caused a panic-stricken run on the banks. Next day it transpired that he had done so but the King, now scared by such widespread commotions, had humbled himself to the extent of begging the Swiss to continue in office, for a time at least.

  On the 25th Roger went again to Versailles and found it as agitated as Paris. That morning, to the wild applause of the population, the Duc d’Orléans had led 47 nobles to join the National Assembly, and the clergy who had so far stood out were now coming over in little groups hour by hour. Their most obstinate opponent of union was the Archbishop of Paris. During the previous winter he had practically ruined himself in buying food for the starving; but, despite this, he was set upon by a band of ruffians and threatened with death unless he joined the Assembly. Alternately the streets of the royal town rang with cheers and echoed with shouts of hatred.

  Late that afternoon Roger found de Vaudreuil, who agreed to mention his return to the Queen, and asked him to wait in the Galerie des Glaces, from which he could easily be summoned if she had a mind to grant him an audience.

  The long gallery was crowded with courtiers and their ladies, and Roger was immediately struck by the contrast of the calm that reigned among them to the commotion going on outside the palace. Faultlessly attired, bowing to each other with urbane grace as they met, parted or offered their snuff-boxes, they were talking of the latest scandals, gaming parties, books, Opera—in fact of everything other than the political upheaval that menaced their privileges, and incomes. Roger did not know whether to admire their well-bred detachment—which was quite possibly assumed so as not to alarm the women—or dub them a pack of idle, irresponsible fools.

  An hour later there was a call for silence, the ushers rapped sharply on the parquet with their wands, and the occupants of the gallery formed into two long lines, facing inwards. As the King and Queen entered the women sank to the floor in curtsys and the men behind them bowed low. The Sovereigns then walked slowly down the human lane that had been formed, giving a nod here, a smile there and occasionally pausing to say a word to someone.

  Roger had never before seen the King so close, and he was no more impressed than he had been at a distance. Louis XVI was then nearly thirty-five, but owing to his bulk he looked considerably older. He was heavily built and now grossly fat, both in figure and face, from years of overeating. His curved, fleshy nose and full mouth were typical of the Bourbon family; his double chin receded and his mild grey eyes protruded. Even his walk was awkward and he lacked the dignity which might have made a stupid man at least appear kingly.

  To Roger’s disappointment the Queen did not, apparently, recognise him, and, having reached the end of the human lane, the royal couple passed out of a door at the far end of the gallery; so he feared that he had had his wait for nothing. But presently de Vaudreuil came to fetch him, and led him to the petit appartements: a series of small, low-ceilinged private rooms adjacent to the Queen’s vast State bedchamber. Her waiting-woman, Madame Campan, took him into a little boudoir, where Madame Marie Antoinette was sitting reading through some papers.

  He thought her looking tired and ill, but she greeted him with her habitual kindness, and obviously made an effort to show interest in the journey he had undertaken for her. When he had given a brief account of it, she expressed concern at his having been wounded, asked after her brother, and then said:

  “You find us in a sad state here, Mr. Brook, but that is no reason why I should fail to reward you for the service you have rendered me.”

  “If that is Your Majesty’s gracious pleasure,” he replied at once, “I have two requests to make, one for myself and one for another.”

  As she signed to him to go on, he continued: “On my first coming to France I sailed in an English smuggler’s craft. She was sunk off Le Havre by a French warship and the crew taken prisoner. The captain’s name was Dan Izzard, and I imagine that he and his men were sent to the galleys. They may be dead or have escaped long ere this, but Dan was a good fellow, and if Your Majesty_________”

  With a wave of her hand she cut him short. “At least le bon Dieu still permits the Queen of France to perform an act of mercy at the request of a friend. Give all particulars to Monsieur de Vaudreuil and if these men are still our prisoners I will have them released and repatriated. And for yourself, Monsieur?”

  Roger bowed. “ ’Tis only, Madame, your permission to remain unobtrusively about the Court, in the hope that I may be of some further service to Your Majesty.”

  She smiled rather wanly. “I grant that readily; although I warn you, Mr. Brook, that in these days the Court of Versailles is but a poor place in which to seek advancement. We are having all we can do to maintain ourselves.”

  As Roger was about to reply the door was flung open and the King came lumbering in. Ignoring Roger and Madame Campan, he cried:

  “What do you think, Madame! D’Espréménil has just been to see me.”

  The Queen sighed. “To offer more advice, I suppose; and no doubt contrary to the innumerable opinions we have heard so far.”

  Pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket the King began to mop his red, perspiring face. “But what do you think he said, Madame; what do you think he said? He wants me to summon the Parliament of Paris, of whose loyalty he now assures me; march on the city with my troops, surround the Palais Royal, seize my cousin of Orléans and his confederates, try them summarily and hang them to the nearest lamp posts. He says that if I will do that the people will be too stunned to rise against us. That I could then dissolve the National Assembly as unfaithful to its mandates; and that if I will grant by royal edict all reasonable reforms the Parliament will register them, the country be pacified, and the monarchy established on a firm foundation.”

  “Worse advice has been offered to other Monarchs who found themselves in similar difficulties,” said the Queen quietly.

  “But Madame!” the harassed man exclaimed in alarm. “Because I dislike and distrust my cousin, that would be no excuse for hanging him. Besides, such a tyrannical act could not possibly be carried through without innocent persons becoming embroiled in it. We might even have to fire on the crowds and kill a number of the people. The people love me and in no circumstances will I allow their blood to be shed. They are not disloyal, but simply misguided. No! No! If blood is to be shed I would rather that it were my own. You at least agree with me about that, do you not, Madame?”

  The Queen inclined her head. “Sire, you know well that you have my full understanding and approval of any measures that you think fit to take. What reply did you make to Monsieur d’ Espréménil?”

  “I—I thanked him for his advice,” faltered the unhappy King, “and told him that we were opposed to extreme measures; but would think about it. You see, Madame, I did not wish to offend him, as I am sure that he meant well. I am much relieved that you feel as I do. I pray you excuse me now, for I am due to listen to a lecture from that depressing Monsieur Necker.”

  The King made an awkward bow to his wife, and hurried like a naughty schoolboy from the room. There was silence for a moment, then the Queen said to Roger:

  “Had you been the King, Mr. Brook, what would you have thought of Monsieur d’Espréméménil’s advice?”

  “I would have taken it, Madame, and acted upon it th
is very night,” replied Roger without hesitation. “But may it please Your Majesty to understand me. I have little sympathy for your nobles, and still less for the majority of your clergy. Both Orders have become parasites, and I believe that the only sound future for France lies in utilising the brains and initiative of the Third Estate. But it should not be allowed to usurp the royal prerogative. Since things have gone so far, I think His Majesty would be justified in taking any measures—however violent—to silence His Highness of Orléans and restore the authority of the monarchy.”

  The Queen nodded noncommittally. “You are not alone in your opinion, Mr. Brook; but His Majesty’s feelings are also mine. You may leave me now; and in future I shall see you with pleasure among the gentlemen of our Court.”

  As Roger rode back to Paris he felt sad for the French nobles; for, although he found little to admire in them as a body, he would have hated to be one of them and have to rely for support on such a sorry King. His pessimistic view of their chances was confirmed the very next day.

  Barentin had won the round over the speech at the Royal Session, but Necker got the upper hand in the one that followed. At his insistence the King wrote to the Presidents of the Two senior Orders, the Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld and the Duc de Luxembourg, asking them to invite their members to join the Third. Both demurred, so he sent for and pleaded with them. Still they held out, preferring his displeasure, and the howls of execration of the mob wherever they appeared, to a surrender that they considered to be against the true interests of the nation.

  The King then panicked and restarted to a stratagem which came near to baseness. He ordered his brother, the Comte d’Artois, whom the nobles regarded as the leader of their resistance, to write a letter stating that if they persisted further in their refusal His Majesty’s life would be in danger from the fury of the populace. The letter was read in the chamber of the nobles on the morning of the 27th. The gallant Marquis de St. Simon instantly sprang to his feet and cried: “If that be the case, let us go to him and form a rampart round him with our bodies.” But the majority were against provoking an armed conflict; so, although with the greatest reluctance, out of personal loyalty to their Sovereign, the remaining members of the two senior Orders were tricked into joining the National Assembly.

  That it was a shameful manœuvre Roger had no doubt, as he was in Versailles at the time with every opportunity to assess the facts; and he knew that there was as yet little real strength behind the noisy rabble, whereas the Court still had ample power to suppress any serious disturbance.

  For a week past bands of hooligans had been parading the streets creating disorder, and threatening anyone they saw whom they believed to be opposed to their idol, Monsieur Necker. In the neighbourhood of the park the peasants now defied the gamekeepers; three poachers had been brutally butchered, one of them only a few days previously, and the villagers round about were openly shooting the game in the royal forests. The whole country was in a state of extreme agitation, and during the past four months over 300 outbreaks of violence had occurred in different parts of it.

  Even the French Royal Guard were no longer to be relied upon, as the agents of the Duc d’Orléans were employing women as well as men to stir up sedition, and great numbers of the prostitutes of Paris were being used to suborn the troops. Both in the capital and at Versailles it was now a common sight to see groups of guardsmen arm-in-arm with girls, drunk in the middle of the day, and shouting obscenities, picked up in the gardens of the Palais Royal, against the Queen. Moreover it was known that a secret society had been formed in the regiment, the members of which had sworn to obey no orders except those emanating from the National Assembly.

  But, despite all this, not a voice, much less a finger, had as yet been raised against the King. Every time he gave way he won a new, if temporary, popularity, and even when he stood firm there was no decrease in the respect shown to him. He had 40,000 troops within a few hours’ march of the capital. The discipline of his Royal Swiss Guard was superb, and he had several other regiments of Swiss and German troops who had long been embodied in the French Army in the immediate vicinity. As they did not speak French they understood little of what was going on, could not be tampered with, and were entirely reliable. He therefore had nothing whatever to fear and must have known it from the fact that whenever he appeared even the rabble still greeted him with shouts of “Vive le Roi!”

  So he had betrayed his nobility, and deprived them of all further opportunity to exercise a restraining influence on the extremists of the Third Estate, solely for the sake of escaping a little further badgering from a Minister whom he disliked and distrusted, yet had not the courage to dismiss.

  Of his abysmal weakness further evidence was soon forthcoming. The Duc de Châtelet, Colonel of the French Guard, much perturbed by the open disaffection of his regiment, arrested fifteen of the ringleaders and confined them in the prison of l’Abbaye. One of them managed to get a letter smuggled out to the Palais Royal. On its contents becoming public a tumult ensued, the mob marched upon the prison, forced its doors, released the offenders and carried them back in triumph.

  Since the elections the revolutionary Clubs in Paris had gained enormously in strength, and they used as their mouthpiece a body of the Electors who had made their headquarters at the Hôtel de Ville. Instead of dispersing after having elected their deputies to the Third Estate these Electors continued to sit, forming an unofficial but most powerful committee, who, every day, deluged their representatives in the National Assembly with a constant spate of requests and orders. The Electors now demanded that the Assembly should use its weight with the King to secure the pardon of the mutinous guardsmen. This the Assembly, now itself frightened of the mobs that the Electors controlled, was sapient enough to do; and the miserable King acceded to their request, thereby destroying at a stroke the authority of the officers of his own regiment of guards.

  Roger now went daily to Versailles. He would have moved to lodgings there if he could, but ever since the assembling of the States General the town had been packed to capacity and every garret in it occupied; so he often had to ride back to Paris in the small hours of the morning.

  His temporary captivity at Fontainebleau now stood him in good stead, as the courtiers he had met through de Vaudreuil extended their friendship to him, introduced him to their families, and invited him to their parties. For, in spite of the troubled times, life within the palace went on as usual, except that there were no public entertainments owing to the Court being in mourning for the Dauphin. Twice the Duchesse de Polignac invited him to musical evenings in her suite, and on both occasions the Queen spoke kindly to him. He now saw her, although not to speak to, several times a day, and his affable manners rapidly gained for him an accepted place among the fifty or sixty people whom she regarded as her personal friends.

  In consequence, he was now admirably placed for learning what was going on, and he soon became aware that the Court party was by no means yet prepared to knuckle under to the National Assembly. The Marshal de Broglie, a stout-hearted veteran of the Seven Years’ War, had been appointed to the supreme command of the Army, and he meant to stand no nonsense if the mobs of Paris took up arms against the King. The Queen’s old friend, de Besenval, had been selected to command the troops in the capital, and between them they now had 50,000 men concentrated in and about it.

  Most people at the Court now felt that, unless the King’s timidity led him to an abject surrender of every right still vested in the Crown, civil war must soon break out. They also believed that, although he might be prepared to do so on his own account, his jelly-like back would be stiffened for once at the thought that his powers did not belong to himself alone, but were held by him in trust for transmission to his children and future heirs as yet unborn.

  De Broglie and his staff were therefore preparing against all emergencies with the utmost activity. The palace and its grounds were now an armed camp. Batteries were being erected to cover the bridges
over the Seine and thousands of men were labouring to throw up a vast system of earthworks on the slopes of Montmartre, from which guns could bombard rebellious Paris.

  Roger kept Mr. Hailes informed of all the details he could gather, but the main facts were common knowledge and, not unnaturally, the National Assembly took alarm at these military measures, believing their purpose to be the intimidation of themselves. De Mirabeau voted an address to the King asking that the troops be withdrawn.

  On July 10th the Monarch replied that the troops had been assembled only for the purpose of preventing further disorders, and that if the Assembly had any fears for its security it had his permission to remove to Noyon or Soissons. Then, on the night of the 11th, he at last plucked up the courage to dismiss Necker.

  When the news reached the Palais Royal next day pandemonium broke loose. Fuel was added to the fire by the tidings that Montmorin, St. Priest and other Ministers who had supported Necker’s policy had been dismissed with him; and that the Baron de Breteuil, one of the Queen’s intimates, had been appointed principal Minister in his place.

  Leaping on to a table, with a brace of pistols in his hands, Camille Desmoulins harangued the crowd, inciting them to insurrection. D’Orléans’ swarthy ruffians from the South and a number of deserters from the Gardes Français reinforced the mob, which surged through the streets, burst into the Hôtel de Ville and seized all the arms there. For the rest of the day and far into the night anarchy reigned in Paris. The lawless multitude broke open the prisons, looted the shops and burnt the hated customs barriers at all the entrances to the city.

  De Besenval, believing that he would pay for it with his own head if he ordered his troops to attack the people without the royal authority, sent courier after courier to Versailles for instructions. But the King was out hunting and, even when he did return, could not be prevailed upon to give any. Meanwhile de Besenval’s men had begun to fraternise with the rioters and were deserting by the score; so, as the only means of stopping the rot, he withdrew his troops during the night to the open country.