Financial support was also a crucial factor for the Duke of Orleans to become the core of the military faction. Even before this incident, he had already distributed tens of millions of livres among more than twenty high-ranking military officers.
In order to topple the Royal Family, he was prepared to put forth his entire fortune of over fifty million livres. In the area of military expenses alone, he was confident he could defeat the Royal Family.
In actuality, this was only his cash and credit. If fixed assets were included, the figure would be astronomically higher. It must be noted that the annual pension he received from the Royal Family alone amounted to three million livres. The lineage of the Duke of Orleans also possessed vast industries, and to say he was wealthy enough to rival a country was no exaggeration.
“That’s excellent.” The Marquis de Saint-Veran said with a pleased expression, “Tell me, when will the Queen’s messenger arrive?”
“Should be soon…”
As the Duke of Orleans was speaking, a servant of Count Seyrelier came galloping up and greeted them:
“My lord Duke, General, the people from the Palace of Versailles have arrived.”
The Duke of Orleans and the Marquis de Saint-Veran exchanged a smile:
“Let’s go and have a look.”
When the two returned to the villa of Count Seyrelier, they failed to notice the Count’s rather peculiar expression.
Nonchalantly, the Duke of Orleans sat down on a chair and said to the court official who had come to deliver a message:
“Go on then, which conditions has Her Majesty the Queen agreed to?”
Before the official could speak, Count Seyrelier handed over a royal order sealed with the King’s great seal to him.
The Duke of Orleans glanced over the document and was so shocked that he stood up immediately.
Marquis de Saint-Veran leaned over in surprise and saw that the letter contained only a few simple sentences, its main content was a demand for all officers above the rank of Major to report to the Palace of Versailles immediately.
He looked at the orderly officer, still thinking in terms of previous assumptions:
“The Queen hasn’t ordered troops to suppress the unrest?”
The latter nodded and gestured to the document:
“That’s all there is, my lord Marquis.”
Marquis de Saint-Veran seemed a bit anxious:
“Are there any conditions that the Queen cannot accept? We can discuss them further…”
The orderly officer continued impassively:
“There are no other instructions from Her Majesty, my lord Marquis. Please sign here to acknowledge you have received the order.”
Marquis de Saint-Veran and the other two looked at each other, at a loss for how to proceed.
They had anticipated a range of possible reactions from the Queen, but they had not expected her to ignore the rebellion entirely.
It was as if they had gathered all their strength, ready to deal a fatal blow to their opponent, only to suddenly find that they were facing nothing but thin air, with nowhere to direct their power.
“But what about the unrest?” Marquis de Saint-Veran asked, grabbing hold of the officer, “My troops are ready, just waiting for…”
“You may inquire about this personally at the Palace of Versailles.” The officer responded politely, bowing, “I have received no further directives.”
Suddenly, the Duke of Orleans stepped forward:
“What about other provinces? Are they also abandoning the unrest to its fate?”
“As far as I know, that seems to be the case, my lord Duke. Other regions in the south, with the exception of Bordeaux and Lyon, are likely to have received the same orders.”
Bordeaux, being the largest potato growing region in France, had not really suffered from food shortages, so no unrest had occurred.
As for Lyon, as soon as a shortage of food supplies appeared, the textile guild took the lead, organizing the major factories to gather their foremen and security, forming a temporary patrol squad that was able to disperse the crowds of rioters quickly.
This was largely because, following Paris Fashion Week, the textile factories in Lyon were doing quite well profit-wise, and the industry guild allocated a substantial amount of money for awards for the patrol squads, thus ensuring that the factories did not stop production due to the unrest.
After the orderly officer left, Marquis de Saint-Veran turned to the Duke of Orleans with an embarrassed look:
“What shall we do, my lord Duke? Shall we head to Paris…”
“We must not go!” The other said, his face ashen, “I refuse to believe that the Austrian woman would really ignore the unrest. You just wait here, she is bound to compromise!”
Marquis de Saint-Veran hesitated:
“But what if she doesn’t compromise?”
The Duke of Orleans gritted his teeth:
“Then we’ll lead the troops directly…”
Marquis de Saint-Veran immediately shook his head resolutely:
“No, no, to mobilize troops without orders is to rebel!”
While he dared to amass troops and confront the palace amidst the chaos, he still did not have the courage for a blatant uprising—an unrighteous revolt, at best, could only force the Royal Family to flee abroad, followed by intervention from other major nations, culminating in the return of the Royal Family, and the execution of the rebels.
He knew the Duke of Orleans aspired to usurp the throne, but he did not wish to be a stepping stone beneath the king’s seat.
But he also knew that because he had threatened the Royal Family, if he went to Paris, his political career would be over immediately.
After much deliberation, he finally made up his mind:
“I think it’s best to wait and see,” he concluded.
The Duke of Orleans returned to his room with a gloomy expression and wrote letters to each of the more than twenty military high-ranking officials, instructing them to hold on until the Royal Family made the first concession.
…
Two days later.
The starving people of Montpellier swept through the city like locusts, taking away all the food in sight.
The villa of Baron Laurent was in complete disarray.
In the maid’s resting room, a dirty old man found a small piece of bread in a corner cupboard and delightedly showed it to a seven or eight-year-old boy:
“Alexis, look what I’ve found…”
Before he could finish, a woman suddenly appeared, snatched the bread from his hand, and stuffed it into her mouth.
The old man pointed at the woman with anger and shock:
“You, you shameless wretch, that was food for the child…”
Before he had finished speaking, another child about five or six years old walked in, holding an infant, weakly saying to the woman:
“Mommy, sister she…”
The woman hurriedly took the infant, fed her the chewed-up bread, and anxiously murmured:
“Swallow it, Ariane, swallow it quick!”
She had long since run out of milk due to hunger and had to feed her dying daughter this way.
The infant’s cheeks bulged as if she had swallowed the food.
The woman nodded excitedly, ready to bite more bread to feed the child, but suddenly the bread was light in her hand, and when she turned around, she saw that the old man had taken it.
“Give it back to me, please!” she pleaded with a hoarse sob, but no tears would come, “Ariane can’t hold on much longer…”
But the old man was unmoved, handing the bread to his grandson:
“Sorry, Alexis is also starving.”
The woman handed the baby to her older daughter and gathered her last bit of strength to grab the food from the child’s hand, while the old man desperately clutched her waist:
“Alexis, eat it quick!”
“Please, just leave a small piece for Ariane!”
As the two weakly wrestled, they suddenly heard someone outside shouting:
“Quick, go to the Church! The Church is distributing food!”
“There seems to be some at Adge Parish too!”
Both were startled, then let go at the same time. Seeing that the bread was eaten, the woman quickly took her older daughter and hurried in the direction of the Church.
The old man followed her in a few steps, took the infant from the older child, and gestured to the woman:
“I’ll hold her; we can move faster that way.”
Following the rioting crowd, they arrived at the southern Church and indeed saw priests distributing black bread, as the famished almost toppled the church’s fences.
After half an hour in line, the woman and the old man each received one and a half pounds of bread and immediately started devouring it with the children.
A moment later, as the woman watched her little daughter satisfied with bread, her mouth constantly moving, she silently bowed in thanks to the priest.
The priest made the sign of the cross on his chest and said to the crowd continually bowing in gratitude:
“You should thank the merciful Lord, not me.”
Another priest beside him added:
“And His Majesty the King, Her Majesty the Queen, and the Crown Prince! The food was provided by them and the Church together.”
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The crowd immediately started to make the sign of the cross and then began to chant, “Long live the King!”
Once the people were no longer hungry and had been promised by the priests that “there would be more food distributed tomorrow,” they wearily went back home.
Meanwhile, several dozen gang members who had been paid to incite the riot were still shouting not far away:
“Who’ll come with me to Viscount Rolle’s house, he must have food!”
The crowd merely looked at them indifferently, with virtually no one responding.