In exitu Israel

by S. Baring-Gould

The triumphal march ceased, and softly, unaccompanied by instruments, the great choir sang the 'O salutaris hostia' to a simple melody full of sweetness, whilst the fragrant smoke rose in clouds upon the altar-steps around the elevated pyx, which blazed through it like a red sun on a misty morning, and every knee was bowed in adoration.

The Marquis of Ferrières, in his Memoirs, thus recalls the feelings inspired at the moment:—'This simple strain, true and melodious, disengaged from the crash of instruments which choke expression; the regulated accord of voices swelling up to heaven, confirmed me in my belief that the simple is always beautiful, always grand, always sublime.... This religious ceremony cast a gleam over all the human pomp. Without thee, venerable Religion, it would only have been a display of vain pride; but thou dost purify and sanctify, ay, and aggrandise grandeur itself; kings, the mighty of earth, render homage, real or simulated, to the King of kings. These holy rites, these chants, these priests vested in their sacerdotal robes, these perfumes, the canopy, the sun gleaming with gold and jewels! I remembered the words of the prophet, "Daughters of Jerusalem, your King cometh, take your bridal garments, and go ye out to meet Him." Tears of joy flowed from my eyes. My God, my country, my fellow-citizens had become identified with myself.'

The sermon was preached by Monseigneur Lafarre, Bishop of Nancy. It overflowed with patriotic sentiments; but the prelate did more than express his enthusiastic devotion to the good of his country,—he reminded the court of its crimes, its pride, its lavish expenditure, and its exactions. He bade it remember that it was the crown and the court which had made luxury fashionable and had glorified dissolution of morals, and he urged on king, queen, and all whom the Almighty has placed in conspicuous positions, to consider their responsibility to Him who set them there, and he bade them be very sure, that if they slighted these responsibilities or used their place to exalt and sanction evil, a Nemesis awaited them which would be as speedy as terrible.

This sermon, so bold and patriotic, was not listened to without interruption. The queen was observed to turn white as chalk; the king's brothers, notorious for their immoralities, were differently affected; Monsieur glanced at his mistress, Madame Balby, and then covered his face; the Count d'Artois reddened, and beat with his foot upon the stage of the platform on which the throne was placed. The ladies around the queen fanned themselves and whispered audibly to each other. Some of the young nobles moved their seats, and rattled their swords on the pavement; others groaned and coughed, and the preacher's words were lost. He paused, looked towards the king's throne; Louis XVI was unmoved; he, an amiable, simple man, was untouched in conscience by the reproaches of the bishop; he quite agreed with him in his verdict, and appreciated his sentiments. But the queen had thrown all her weight into the conservative side, and conservatism then meant the retention of every abuse under which the country groaned, and the sanction of every vice which outraged morality and disorganized society. When Monseigneur Lafarre looked at her majesty, she met his eye with a threatening glance of indignation. The murmurs increased, and it was evident that the court and nobles were bent on preventing the preacher from continuing his discourse. The deputies of the third estate became excited, and agitation was observed among the deputies of the clergy. Thomas Lindet, responding to a sudden inspiration, sprang to his feet, looked across at the court, and cried:—'Magna est veritas et prevalebit.' A roar of applause rose from the benches on all sides of him and from behind. He sat down, and in perfect silence, without an attempt at disturbance, the Bishop of Nancy concluded his discourse.

It was apparent to every one from that moment that the battle was to be fought à l'outrance.

On the morrow, May 5th, the deputies assembled in the Hall des Menus-Plaisirs, situated in the Rue S. Martin, opening out of the Avenue of Paris.

Considerable changes have taken place in the town and château of Versailles since the period of our tale, and it will be necessary, in order that the events we shall have to record may be fully comprehended, to give a slight sketch of the disposition of the buildings as they then stood. Although Versailles was the place where the king and the court resided, it had not then the neat and cleanly air that it has at present. The streets, the avenues, the squares, even the courts and corridors of the palace were encumbered with booths, and stalls, and wooden caravans, which gave the appearance of a perpetual fair.

The town on the side of the Avenue of Paris was closed by a wooden barrier, placed a little in advance of the Rue de Noailles. The two first buildings arresting attention on entering the Avenue were, on the right, the hôtel erected by Madame du Barry, which was at that time occupied by Monsieur the King's brother, and which is at the present day turned into a cavalry barrack. On the left, immediately opposite, at the corner of the Rue S. Martin, was the Hôtel des Menus-Plaisirs of the king, now-a-days also a barrack. The principal entrance to the hôtel was from the Avenue of Paris, which admitted into a court of honour, at the extremity of which a grand flight of steps led into a vestibule that opened on the Hall of the Assembly. This hall was built on the side of the Rue des Chantiers, on higher ground, so that its floor was level with the first storey of the Menus-Plaisirs. It was entered also by a door opening on the street; and it was by this door that the deputies were admitted, whilst that from the Hôtel des Menus was reserved for the king. At the extremity of the hall, against the wall joining on to the hôtel, stood the throne, and beneath it the bureau of the president. The deputies were placed on benches. On either side of the hall, behind the pilasters supporting the roof, were galleries, to which the public had admission.

Into this hall, the king with a brilliant suite entered by the state door, at one o'clock in the afternoon. The deputies had been summoned at nine, but were only admitted as the herald summoned them, bailiwick by bailiwick. As each group entered, the master of the ceremonies pointed out to the clergy and the nobles and the commons their respective places. During this lengthy business the deputies remained crowded in a narrow dark corridor, which contributed greatly to increase the confusion.

The herald summoned the bailiwick of Viller-Cotterets; the deputy of the clergy was an unbeneficed curate, the delegate of the nobility was Monsieur the Duke of Orléans. The curé drew aside and bowed, to permit the prince to enter before him, but the latter refused. No sooner had the duke entered the hall than it rang with cheers. The deputies had all found their places at a quarter past twelve. Their benches were disposed in a semi-ellipse, whose diameter was the platform supporting the throne. The clergy sat on the right, near the throne, and the nobles on the left; the third estate occupied the rest of the seats.