Louis the Eighteenth was not a devotee, but it constituted part of his politics to be occasionally religious; he resolved, therefore, to give a grand spectacle of Christian humility, by going in regal state to his own Parish Church, St. Germain l'Auxerrois, on the first Easter Sunday after his restoration. It was a fine April morning; the troops were early on foot, in parade order, in the small space that separates the Palace of the Tuileries from the ancient church; and an immense Goncourse of people filled the courtyard of the Carousel, and the front of the Louvre.
The king with his family occupied a large open barouche; the blue and piercing eye of the monarch glanced over the assembled multitude; he frequently uncovered himself, and bowed to the right and left amid exclamations of "Long live the Royal Family: long life to the Bourbons."
The procession arrived in front of the old church, famous for its Gobelin tapestry; an awning was erected before the porch of the church, the band of the National Guard struck up the airs of "Wive Henri Quatre," and Charmante Gabrielle."
The gouty monarch alighted from his carriage, after a deal of trouble, and was about to enter the church, when the curate appeared at the head of his clergy, and began to address his majesty in a most beautiful speech. This caused the king to make wry faces, foreseeing that, thanks to the loquacity of the worthy curate, he should be forced to keep on his legs, a situation he held in abhorrence, although, as he had vowed to sacrifice himself for that day, he resolved to endure it. But when the eloquence of the curate took an immeasurable extension, the king began to see saw, sometimes resting on one leg, and then on the other. This habit, "the Bourbon gait," was so well known, that it was far from being supposed a mark of impatience, and the poor king looked round in vain to find a person who would sympathise with his sufferings; he at last observed that the Duke de Berri was not paying any great attention to the oration, and the king made signs for him to approach.
"Berri, this address is tremendously long," said his majesty; "will it never end?"
"Sire, I share your impatience," replied the Duke.
"Not you, indeed, for you have good legs; I can scarcely keep on mine, and suffer most horribly. Is there no way to end this torment?"
"Yes, sire, nothing more easy, if you authorise me."
"Yes, Berri, go; but it must not appear to emanate from me."
The Duke de Berri approached an officer of the Gardes du Corps, and whispered a secret order to him. From that moment Louis appeared to pay more attention to the oration; the enchanted curate gave additional energy to his verbose eloquence, when all at once his voice was covered by the loud beating of the big drums, and the bellowing of the trombones, and braying of trumpets.
"The band struck up the tune of "Vive le Roi, vive la France," cheers sounded from every side, intermixed with the loud pealing of the bells. It was one universal uproar; the courtiers who surrounded the king, looked amazed; the poor curate remained standing with his mouth wide open, sadly puzzled at this unexpected interruption. Louis seemed impassive; but he slightly bowed to the Duke de Berri as if to thank him for the service he had rendered. The king advanced a step, the clergy preceded him, the whole court followed, and in a few moments Louis found himself very commodiously seated in one of the gilt armchairs, ranged at the entrance of the choir, for the use of the Royal Family. The people were admitted into the side aisles, while the centre was filled with the king's suite; he himself being surrounded by his most faithful servants, who seemed to form a rampart with their bodies. Divine service commenced; it might last as long as they pleased, Louis was comfortably seated in his arm chair; sundry cushions were disposed before him in such a way that the indispensable genuflexions might be rendered easy to his gouty limbs. The choristers chaunted the prayers preceding the grand mass, the priests were in their stalls, and the choir was almost empty, when a person came through one of the doors of the sacristy. He was a tall lean young man, dressed in a cassock and surplice. He rapidly traversed the choir, and was about to take a seat in one of the stalls, when he recollected that he had forgotten to bow before the tabernacle. He returned towards the altar and knelt on one of the steps. As he stooped, a singular noise was heard; a sword escaping from under his cassock, struck loudly on the marble floor. The young man hastened to hide the murderous weapon, covering it with the peaceful attire of the Levite, and regained his place, from whence he quietly intonated the verse of the psalm. His apparent tranquillity was far from being shared by those who surrounded the the king. Their faces turned pale, they whispered, orders were given, musket shafts struck the sonorous marble of the temple; officers hurried to and fro; the word was passed to clear the lower side aisles, and troops occupied the place of the people. The king inquired the cause of the tumult; one of his aides de camp addressed him in a whisper, and the report was publicly given that an armed priest had attempted the life of the king.
The unlucky author of all this agitation continued to chaunt his psalms, in a firm and musical voice, when two superior officers approached and thus addressed him—"Follow us instantly, sir."
"Beg pardon, sir, I cannot, my presence is required here; but, as soon as the ceremony terminates, I shall be entirely at your service," and again he commenced singing with all his might.
"Sir, I repeat it, you must follow us instantly; let us try to avoid creating any sensation or alarm. Come to the sacristy; resistance would be useless, therefore, do not put us under the necessity of employing force."
"As I cannot act otherwise, I'll follow you, Messieurs; but I request of you to take notice that you force me to abandon my post."
The sacristy was filled with soldiers; when the young man entered, he was placed between two fusileers, who would not allow him to use the slightest gesticulation.
"Hollo!" exclaimed he, "what is the meaning of all this?"
"Be satisfied, sir, to answer," was the reply.
A man, girded with a white scarf, was sitting at a table, with other individuals, and provided with every article necessary for drawing up a proces-verbal.
The interrogatory began. "You carry arms about you?"
"Arms? No. I have a sword, that's all.
"Write down that; he confesses being armed.— Why did you hide your sword so carefully under your cassock?"
"Because it is not customary to carry a sword over a cassock."
"Sir! none of your jokes. Consider that a grave accusation weighs heavily against you, and that your life is at stake."
"My life? I say! why is this mystification? let us begin to understand one another," said the prisoner.
"What is your profession?"
"A musician."
"And why does a musician disguise himself as a priest, and carry arms under his assumed garments?"
"These garments are my own as well as the sword. I am a trombone player in the band of the National Guard, and at the same time a chorister of this church. I was concerned in the flourish when the king arrived, and waited for the end of the curate's speech, to undress myself, for the purpose of singing at divine service. But the worthy man was not allowed to proceed, and we were told to strike up in the middle of his address. We did so; service commenced, and I had only time left to put on my cassock over my uniform; with your permission, I'll now take it off altogether, as divine service is nearly over, and I shall be wanted with the band."
Here the scene changed; the judges laughed; the minutes of the proceedings were torn up, and the accused shared the merriment of his judges, when he was told, that he, poor devil, had been taken for a conspirator, and had very nearly put the whole govern. ment in alarm. Peace and tranquillity were restored in the church. The lower side aisles, were again given up to the people, and the king, learning the trifling cause of this hubbub, had much trouble to keep a serious countenance. In leaving the church, he tried to recognise amongst the band, the musician who had caused so much uneasiness, and perceived him, with inflated cheeks, like a Boreas over a door. post, blowing his trombone. The king smiled, and in passing by, nodded his head, so as to relieve the musician from the emotion which his short arrest must have caused. The trombone player was so charmed with this mark of royal favour, that he lost several bars in counting the time, and came in with his loud blasts and puffs in divers wrong places—a circumstance that much astonished his brother musicians.
