VERRIÈRE.
As to this one, we have mentioned his name for the first time. He was a deformed dwarf, a hideous hunchback, whose legs appeared immeasurably long in proportion to his body, which was a visible representation of the distorted passions which raged within him. At every storm which disturbed the depths of society, this sanguinary monster was seen to rise with the scum and agitate himself upon its surface. Two or three times during the most terrible tumults he was seen passing through Paris, huddled upon a black charger, and similar to one of the figures in the Apocalypse, or to one of those inconceivable demons to which the pencil of Callot has given birth in his picture of the temptations of Saint Anthony.
One day at a club, and mounted on the table, he was attacking, threatening, and accusing Danton. It was at the period when the popularity of the man of the 2d of September was vacillating. Danton felt that this venomous attack of Verriere would altogether complete his ruin. He felt that he was lost,—lost like the lion who perceives the hideous head of a serpent two inches from his lips.
He looked around him, seeking either a weapon or some one to back him. Fortunately, he caught sight of another little hunchback; he immediately caught him under the arms, raised him, and then placed him upon the table immediately opposite his humpbacked brother, Verrière.
“My friend,” said he to him, “reply to that gentleman; I yield the floor to you.”
The whole assembly roared with laughter, and Danton was saved,—for that time at least.
There were, then, according to tradition, Marat, Verriere, and besides them,—
THE DUKE D’AIGUILLON.
The Duke d’Aiguillon; that is to say, one of the most inveterate enemies of the queen.
The Duke d’Aiguillon disguised as a woman.
And who was it said this? Everybody.
The Abbé Delille and the Abbé Maury,—these two abbés who so little resemble each other.
To the first was attributed the famous line,—
“As a man, he’s a coward, as a woman, an assassin.”
As to the Abbé Maury, that is another affair.
A fortnight after the occurrence of the events we are relating, the Duke d’Aiguillon met him on the terrace of the Feuillans, and was about to accost him.
“Keep on your way, strumpet!” said the Abbé Maury; and he majestically left the duke perfectly astounded.
It was therefore said that these three men, Marat, Verrière, and the Duke d’Aiguillon arrived at Versailles at about four o’clock in the morning.
They were leading the second troop of which we have, spoken.
It was composed of men who follow in the wake of those who combat to conquer.
These men, on the contrary; come to pillage and to; assassinate.
They had undoubtedly assassinated a little at the Bastille, but they had not pillaged at all.
Versailles offered a delightful compensation.
About half-past five in the morning the palace was startled from its sleep.
A musket-shot had been fired in the marble courtyard.
Five or six hundred men had suddenly presented themselves at the gate; and exciting, animating, pushing on one another, some or them had climbed over the railings, while the others, by a united effort, at length forced open the gate.
It was then that a shot fired by the sentinel had given the alarm.
One of the assailants fell dead. His bleeding corpse was stretched upon the pavement.
This shot had divided this group of pillagers, whose aim was to obtain possession of the plate in the palace; and that of some of them, perhaps, to seize upon the king’s crown.
Separated as by the blow of an immense hatchet, the crowd is divided into two groups.
One of the groups goes to attack the queen’s apartments, the other ascends towards the chapel; that is to say, towards the apartments of the king.
Let us first follow the one proceeding towards the king’s apartments.
You have seen the waves rising when a high tide is setting in, have you not Well, then, the popular wave is similar to it, with this sole difference, that it keeps on advancing, without receding.
The whole of the king’s guards at that moment consisted of a sentinel, who was guarding the door, and an officer, who rushed precipitately out of the antechamber, armed with a halberd which he had snatched from the hand of a terrified Swiss.