Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1913-08-08
PROTECTORS OF TULLERIEs
Deathless Story Recalled by Revolt Of
the Swiss Guards.


have mutinied and Italian policemen
have taken their rifles away from
them and are treating them like
naughty little boys. Very different
Swiss these are, evidently, from the
Swiss Guards of century ago, the
guards who laid down their lives de-
fending>the deserted palace Of the king
of France.
Through all the smoke drifted, lurid
pageant of the French revolution, the
scarlet figures Of these stalwart Swiss,
who knew how to die for king not
their own, loom up, large and heroic In
the scheme of things. Black-clad cour-
tiers fled; the kings French troops
flung down their muskets In their
headlong flight. abandoned cannons,
dropping lanyards from their terrified
hands; only the Swiss Guards stood
like the granite Of their own Alps and
fought until the seething mob Of citi-
zen soldiery closed over them and left
them, torn and trampled. staining the
corridors of the palace Of the Tulleries
with their devoted blood.
It was in August, 1892. All the night
Of August 9, bells rang from the
of Paris, summoning men to
arms; the black-clad courtiers walk
ing in the gardens Of the Tulleries
could hear the muffied throb of drums,
far of. The night was clear, Orion
and the Pleiades calm up above and
but the fevered heart of Paris
leaped up and throbbed. Dim figures
scurried through the streets, COM
and countermanding; citizen
soldiery was mustered, heard the at
tack was to be postponed, disbanded,
formed again. All manner Of rumors,
no one knew where, were
whispered in the streets and In the
palace while the bells called. Up at
the palace they said the mob would
not come; these alarms were not new
they buzzed and talked and clapped
their dirty hands, but never came.
But they did come, in the early
morning, thousands Of them; the first
long level rays of dawn cleaned on
steel pixies and gun barrels. Long lines
Of the citizen soldiery, and after them
in eddying side currents Of flotsam Of
hysterical humanity, men and women,
and unarmed, pushing, throng-
ing, shouting, loud Of voice. Their
voices made a vast and murmurous
roar, like angry waters; one could hear
them a great way off.
His majesty, fat, stolid, vacillating.
knew not what to do; he would do
this, now that, and now he would not
do at all, but sit In his gilded bed
chamber, head in hand, considering a
little further. They say the queen put
a pistol In his pudgy hand, saying that
now or never was the time to show
but the king did not come
out. At last, after long parley, he went
out with the queen to the hall Of the
assembly; he left by devious back
ways the garden of the Tulleries, and
when he went out he went out for ever.
The little prince kicked playfully at
some leaves along the path, fallen be-
fore their time; there was an ominous
significance in those fallen leaves. II
you care to look for 1t. Then a tall
grenadier lifts the little prince to his
blue shoulder as the crowd grows
dense, and the royal family is received
into the hall Of the assembly.
The courtiers fed for the most part
when the king had gone; the red Swiss
held their place. Nearer and nearer
swarmed the mob, led by 800 black
browed men of Marseilles, singing the
that most insurrectionary
tune that ever was written. There was
a pause and a parleying, whilst the
leaders Of the tumultuous Partisan ar
nv called on the guards to surrender.
But the Swiss stand blocking up the
entrances, muskets alert. Their task
1t Is to hold the Tulleries. even though
the master of the Tulleries has fled.
They are peaceful, but vigilant. A lit
tie handful of foreigners flung down
into the midst Of great eevnts that are
beyond their understanding, they know
but one thing-how to face the foe.
A motley mob 1t was-Westermann,
an Alsatian, leading one brigade; In
another place the Demoiselle Theroig-
ne. short -skirted, wasp-waisted
Amazon, girt In pistols and saber,
shouts shrill commands, and perhaps
fancies herself a veritable Jeanne
D'Arc, sent to deliver France. Wester-
mann calls on the Swiss to surrender;
they refuse, and q moment later three
badly aimed, rattle over the
palace roofs, and the Swiss fire vol
lev in reply. Many Of the Marseilles
men went down before that volley-in
particular "a tall man that was louder
than any,"
The mob recoiled and then came on
again, slavering and savage at the
sight of blood. Red coats flashed dimly
the wreathing smoke; the
Swiss Guards fired by platoon and
fire. No less a military expert
then Napoleon, who saw them fight
that day, declared the relocated men
would have beaten back their foes and
won had they had commander. AS II
was they fought blindly, doggedly.
without direction, knowing one duty
to fight as long as they could stand.
Then from the hall of the assembly
came a messenger from Louis, with
written order, Cease firing" That
meant the end of everything. They
but there was no drawing
back now. Scattered and broken, the
who escaped were hunted
down out in the mob, clubbed, beaten,
stabbed with pixies. There were others
who lay along the stone-paved corri-
dors, where they had fallen, facing the
foe, and the mob stripped off its scar
let coats and tore them into shreds and
hung the shreds on pixies. The naked
bodies of 1S0 lay there for two days.
and the curious came to gaze.
The mob surged through the palace.
Staying, plundering; wine casks burst
in by pixies, added new horrors to the