University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

Page 31 text:

THE REDWOOD. 13 and for an instant, the great crowd, that unrelenting sea of wickedness, that seething mass of humanity with their hoarse cries of revenge and un- restrained cruelty, grew silent and fell back. From their distance they viewed for a few short moments the stranger thus inopportunely interupt- ing their day of success. The first impression was that in the newcomer, they, or at least, Gabelle had to en- counter a terrible antagonist. The guards that were left would infallibly fall before the sword of the skillful duellist, but what of the stranger? They were soon to know the answer. As he reached the bottom he waved the ugly weapon madly over his head and shouted some indistinct guttural sounds with all the unnaturalness of insanity. His eyes bulged noticeably from their sockets, and his long gray hair hung in a confused mass over his flushed red face. The crowd, which had been enjoying the interest- ing spectacle of Gabelle slaying the guards, now trembled at closer sight of the horrible maniac. Gabelle hesi- tated for a moment, then took his stand, and with his sword ready, wait- ed for his opponent. He had just ad- justed the shield when his antagonist rushed upon him. If strength were to decide the contest then the prisoner would certainly be the victor, for he was superhuman in his frightful con- dition. A well-aimed and skillful blow might end the battle. The pris- oner missed, and as he flew past, Ga- belle thrust at him but a second too late. Amidst the cries of the mob to keep his nerve Gabelle cooly waited a second attack. His opponent made a treacherous cat-like spring, thrusting as he jumped. Gabelle stepped quick- ly back, and as the prisoner fell heav- ily to the ground he pierced him through the side. With a hoarse cry of triumph the mob surged to the spot and lifted their their leader upon exultant backs. The guards that remained had taken ad- vantage of the momentary excitement to escape and the prison was now in the hands of the revolutionists. Hav- ing freed all the prisoners they pro- ceeded, more quietly, to plunder the old fortress. The stairways were soon crowded with them ; little parties, owing to the greater familiarity which some bore others, were thus informally or- ganized, and the work of minor pillage began. In each cell (for they were all inspect ed), was found some article or inscription of interest, and, in not a few, diaries which the prisoners had kept secreted in some obscure crevice of the walls or cell. In the course of their inspection, however, Gabelle ' s party reached one cell which was in an awful condition. The door hung widely open, the cot was overturned, and a large hole was in the mattress. A chair had been smashed to splinters, and a table whereon must have laid the scissors, needle, thread and prison cloth now scattered about the floor, had suffered a similar fate.

Page 30 text:

12 THE REDWOOD. the old Bastille. Narrow, railed plat- forms encircled this edifice a short distance from each other. The sep- arate floors of the tower were con- nected by an inner stair as well as the winding steps which pro- vided access to the top by means of the outside. There was yet another guard against outbreak or attack, and this was a deep wide moat which com- pletely surrounded the prison a few yards from its exterior walls. The on- ly means of entrance to the place, then, consisted of a rough draw-bridge which spanned the depths of the inter- vening moat. This was drawn high in the air at all times: it was lowered but seldom to afford means of cross- ing for incoming or departing prison- ers. Without its being dropped it was a feat next to impossible to enter the Bastille of Paris. The prison was reached by noon and hostilities began. All through the long sultry afternoon the conflict raged. Shot from the mob poured steadily into the tower and prison yard below. The guards, urged on by the commands of De Launey,the war- den, exposed themselves bravely in an effort to hold the prison but suffer- ed seriously from the unarmed men be- yond the moat. At five o ' clock, though, De Launey saw the futility of further resistance and raised the white flag of defeat. Truce signals were exchanged and the draw-bridge lowered. The mob surged madly across and crowded the little strip of ground between the prison wall and moat. Eager clamorings went up from the rioters who demanded entrance to the Bastille by their cries — and here De Launey saw his mistake. He now knew that their intent was blood , and feared to open the bolted gate. They clamored the more, — the war- den became the more firm. Thus stood the crisis of the thirteenth of July for several minutes — minut es of suspense and terror for the inmates of the pri- son, of consultation and planning for the crowd outside. The climax came abruptly. A great shout went up. A man, one of the revolutionists, was scaling the walls of the prison. And with the cry, Gabelle, Avec Gabelle , every re- publican who had a weapon pushed forward. The guards inside stood terrified, as they understood well the result of a hand-to-hand contest with the infuriated mass. They determined to stand, however, till the last man, and a new kind of battle began. But in spite of their grim determination and united efforts. Monsieur Gabelle, by means of his long thick sword, v as destroying them with terrible in- difference. There were now but two of them left. He would slay them in a moment. Just at this juncture, when the work of the mob was on the point of com- pletion, a prisoner clad in the convict garb of the Bastille, leaping down the stairs from one of the platforms of the tower , diverted their attention. In his right hand, he held a short rusty sword, a wicked-looking instrument.

Page 32 text:

14 THE REDWOOD. Of course they were not slow in perceiving that this cell had been the home of the maniac. Gabelle, some- what curious to know something of his victim, searched the cell most thoroughly. Nothing beyond the or- dinary scant articles of the prison cell at first, revealed itself. But Monsieur Gabelle was not content. He exam- ined the walls, — not a crack or crevice in all four sides. Then looking care- fully around for several seconds, he suddenly started, — then stooped and picked up a small scrap of thin brown paper upon which there was the faint scribbling of a trembling hand. He lifted it up and read aloud : It is my only chance. They have been fighting now for hours. If the mob wins, this twenty years of hell, then, Pompadour and all your fiendish slaves, shall be at an end. I am almost crazy now, and if the guards win I shall certainly lose . Gabelle stopped ab- ruptly as the writing ended thus and slowly supplied the words, my mind. At this very juncture, the prisoner faithful to his diary, had gone insane. Instead of satisfying him this little note only whetted his curiosity. He continued his search for writing and after hunting assiduously for several minutes, the idea of the chimney sud- denly presented itself. Stepping across the cell, he examined it closely. In a moment he discovered that he could insert his hand through the narrow bars that enclosed the opening to the roof. He thrust his hand between them. His face, the evil face of Mon- sieur Gabelle, lighted up as he with- drew it and held out tightly a packet of papers bound by a string. He brought them to the light of the little square window, and drawing the diary close to his face began to read. But the voice of the cruel Gabelle choked on the very first word. His ruddy cheeks turned ashen white and the courageous rioter fell forward in a swoon. The event had been so strange that the other members of his party stood dazed. No one uttered a sound nor changed his position for a brief few seconds. Finally one of them ner- vously lifted the papers from the floor and read the cause of Monsieur ' s dis- may. But two words, carefully writ- ten on the outside of the diary, re- vealed the maniac: Leon Gabelle.