CHAPTER XXXVI.
In the afternoon of July 23, Berthier was brought into Paris through the Porte S. Martin, attended by a mob, many of whom had followed for twenty leagues.
He was in his own private carriage, with M. de la Rivière at his side. Madame, in one of her fancies, had chosen to sit outside.
The mob danced before him and raged behind him. A hideous procession was formed. A brass band led the way, followed by national guards, and soldiers from all corps which they had deserted, marching arm-in-arm, chanting with full lungs:—
'Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira!
Les aristocrats à la lanterne!
Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira!
Les aristocrats on les pendra
La liberté triomphera
Malgré les tyrans, tout réussira.'
The top of the carriage had been broken in by the people, that they might see the hated Berthier better. He sat, white, quivering, in a dream; seeing faces peering at him from above as men climbed behind the cabriolet and looked down on him, from each side, as they thrust their heads in at the windows to stare at him. He heard them hoot and curse, but he scarcely heeded them. Sometimes blows were aimed at him, but Étienne de la Rivière protected him. A fiddler mad with the general excitement climbed up behind the vehicle and beat at Berthier with his violin. The elector broke the instrument on his arm, and then the musician struck with the handle. M. de la Rivière stood up and thrust the fiddler from his perch, and he fell back and disappeared among the crowd that followed.
Madame Berthier, on the box, had adorned her head with a yellow turban, and bore a pole, to which was fastened an orange streamer; this she waved, and at the same time shouted joyously, 'We have him here caged! It was all my doing; I hunted him down with my dogs.'
Banners, rudely extemporised, were fluttered before the carriage, bearing inscriptions such as these:—'He has devoured the poor.' 'He has drunk the blood of the widow and the orphan.' 'He has cheated the king.' 'He has betrayed his country.'
As the broken vehicle passed through the streets, pieces of sour black bread rained in at the top and at the windows, whilst the people howled, 'Take that and eat it, it is what you have given us to eat.'