At the Paris Library in the twenty-first century, Pomona had once seen newspaper bulletins published during the Paris Commune movement. They mentioned a gathering of all Freemasonry members in the fenced courtyard of the Tuileries Palace, every member appearing on the streets of Paris with red or blue sashes crossed over their chests and small aprons tied around their waists.
She had found that attire ridiculous. Why wear an apron? It was not "cool" at all.
It was not until she had read the 10,000 documents on the French Revolution collected by Colonel Croaker of the Tory Party-aligned British Navy that she learned the women marching on Versailles had carried aprons as well.
Even at France's national day parade in the twenty-first century, soldiers still wore aprons. People from other countries found them rather ridiculous too.
Aprons represented "Bread and Blood," "liberty, equality, fraternity," and the "Declaration of the Rights of Man," yet they had nothing to do with the storming of the Bastille.
The women had gone to demand cheap bread from the king and an end to the artificially created famine. It had rained heavily at Versailles, and they had stood in the rain, waiting for the palace gates to open.
Louis XVI was softhearted. He did not want the soldiers of the Flanders Infantry Regiment to clash with the women. What he did not know was that some well-funded people followed right behind those women, handing money to the soldiers and promising to make them officers commanding mobs.
From Paris to Versailles, one had to cross the Seine three times, which meant crossing bridges each time. The women had encountered no obstruction, nor had the agitators following behind them. Thus, everyone knew that the National Guard could approach Versailles under the same pretext.
The National Guard from