Duke Durfort's nephew, Roer, slamd his hand down on the armrest of his chair and glared at the disheartened nobles around him. "Complaining here won't change anything!" he shouted.
He pointed outside to the square where the progressive nobles were gathering. "We can't just let those people destroy our ancient traditions and deceive the Queen! We must fight back to ensure that our God-given rights are not trampled on!"
He stood up and waved for others to follow. "Don't be cowards! Co with to see the Queen—she'll listen to us."
Since their own interests were at stake, a dozen or so nobles imdiately rose to their feet. "Yes, let's have the Queen stand up for us!"
"We can't let these young upstarts run wild!"
"Let's go! I'll give them a piece of my mind..."
Roer led the way out of the banquet hall and headed downstairs, with a growing number of traditional nobles trailing behind him.
By the ti they reached the Marble Courtyard, their group had swelled to three or four hundred people.
Roer led them to confront the progressive nobles, who were listening to a speech. He imdiately demanded, "What are you trying to do?"
"You're nobles yourselves! Why would you desecrate the honor of the nobility?"
The young man giving the speech near the lion-headed statue on the palace wall fired back, "These decaying privileges should have been abolished long ago!"
"What nonsense are you spouting? Do you want the nobility to be like those sans-culottes[1] in the streets?"
"The nobility already lives far too comfortably. You should see the poor peasants out there..."
"Their poverty is due to laziness and stupidity! It has nothing to do with us..."
"It's you lot who are lazy and stupid!"
"How dare you insult ! I challenge you to a duel!"
"Fine! Let's do it!"
What began as an argunt quickly escalated into shouting, and soon, physical altercations broke out.
Neither side was willing to back down, so they began to call for reinforcents. The battlefield moved from the confined space of the Marble Courtyard to the Versailles Palace square.
Soon, both sides had over a thousand people each, and their numbers continued to grow.
Although the palace guards intervened to prevent serious bloodshed, the insults echoed throughout Versailles. So even took a cue from the common folk, throwing rotten vegetables and clumps of dirt at each other.
Joseph stood by the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor of the south wing, watching the scene unfold with great interest.
In Russia or Prussia, anyone causing such a commotion at the royal palace would have been dispersed by guards, with the leaders thrown into prison. But at Versailles, this was just normal political activity.
Eymond, standing nearby, peered out the window and remarked, "Your Highness, it seems our side isn't faring too well."
He was close enough to the Prince to know the full story behind this confrontation.
Joseph smiled slightly. "Don't worry. Mr. Mirabeau's main force hasn't arrived yet."
"The main force?"
Eymond's confusion was soon resolved. As carriages began arriving at the outskirts of the square, a large number of well-dressed individuals, though not as extravagantly attired as the Versailles nobles, flooded into the square. Under the guidance of a dozen or so young n, they quickly joined the progressive nobles' ranks.
Taking a cup of tea from Eymond, Joseph gestured toward the newcors. "See? Everyone forgets that the robe-wearing nobles are still nobles."
The so-called "robe-wearing nobles" were those who had purchased their noble titles, while the hereditary nobles were known as "sword-wearing nobles."
The forr had always been looked down upon by the latter as upstarts, and most did not live in Versailles, so they rarely got involved in these "collective political activities" at the palace. But in terms of sheer numbers, they far outnumbered the sword-wearing nobles.
While others had overlooked them, Joseph hadn't. Historically, it was these very people who ford the backbone of the French Revolution, and their fighting spirit was no joke.
So, more than half a month ago, he had Mirabeau rally the robe-wearing nobles, ready to bolster the forces at Versailles.
In just over an hour, the ranks of the progressive nobles had swelled to two or three tis the size of their opponents, and reinforcents continued to arrive.
Moreover, many of these robe-wearing nobles had experience in law and comrce, so they were far more articulate and agile than the old Versailles nobles.
The tide of the confrontation quickly turned, with the traditional nobles being pushed back into a corner of the Marble Courtyard, where they barely held their ground, pressed against the palace walls.
Finally, when Roer was struck on the forehead by a clump of dirt and retreated, grimacing, the traditional nobles began to scatter.
Another half hour later, only the progressive nobles remained in the square. They cheered excitedly and sward towards the Petit Trianon Palace to express their full support for Viscount Chantal's proposal to the Queen.
This was the political tradition of France: the louder your voice, the more influence you wield. The French Revolution had proven this ti and ti again.
Clearly, the traditional nobles had been thoroughly defeated today.
Of course, this outco was largely due to Joseph's deliberate leniency. If things had gone differently, he would have imdiately ordered the guards to disperse the gathering nobles.
He wasn't as easygoing as Louis XVI and Queen Marie.
In reality, while the nobles might be rowdy, just a few hundred guards could make them all quietly go ho.
At the gates of the Petit Trianon Palace, Queen Marie was surprised to see how many people supported the abolition of noble privileges. Hastily, she publicly announced that she would approve the proposal and have it enacted into law as soon as possible.
The crowd erupted in cheers and began showering the Queen with praise, calling her "the savior of the downtrodden," "an angel of rcy," and "one whose generosity the people will never forget." Their flattery nearly overwheld her.
That evening, in the drawing room of Duke Mouchy's apartnt on the second floor of Versailles, more than a dozen major nobles gathered, all looking grim.
"They've actually brought so many lowborn people to Versailles to cause trouble!"
"But the Queen seems ready to agree to abolish our traditional rights."
"They're so forceful... The Queen couldn't withstand the pressure..."
Though these big shots wouldn't directly participate in the day's petitions and confrontations, they had been closely monitoring the developnts.
A middle-aged noble spoke up, "We need to rally more people to balance the situation!"
"Yes! I can mobilize the nobles from my hotown..."
Duke Durfort, however, shook his head thoughtfully. "No, we'll never be able to match the numbers of those liberals. They can gather a thousand people just by giving a speech on the street."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"We need to leverage our strengths." The Duke looked around at the group. "Our numbers may be smaller, but we have more influence in Versailles.
"Those people can only petition in the square, but our letters will be on the Queen's desk—or we can even speak to her directly in her tea room!"
Note:
Sans-culottes: A term used during the French Revolution to refer to the common people of the lower classes. The na literally ans "without breeches," as the working-class n wore long trousers instead of the knee-length breeches favored by the aristocracy. Originally a term of disdain used by the nobility, it quickly beca synonymous with the revolutionaries themselves.
(End of Chapter)
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