Chapter IV: , VII (58)

"At last ... on the proposal of Sieyès [the Abbé, deputy for
Paris] and amid a storm of frantic excitement, the Third
Estate alone voted themselves 'the National Assembly,' invited
the other two orders to join them, and pushing their
pretensions to sovereignty to the highest point, declared that
the existing taxes, not having been consented to by the
nation, were all illegal. The National Assembly, however,
allowed them to be levied till its separation, after which
they were to cease if not formally regranted. This great
revolution was effected on June 17, and it at once placed the
Third Order in a totally new relation both to the other orders
and to the Crown. There were speedy signs of yielding among
some members of the privileged orders, and a fierce wave of
excitement supported the change. Malouet strongly urged that
the proper course was to dissolve the Assembly and to appeal
to the constituencies, but Necker declined, and a feeble and
ineffectual effort of the King to accomplish a reunion, and at
the same time to overawe the Third Order, precipitated the
Revolution. The King announced his intention of holding a
royal session on June 22, and he summoned the three orders to
meet him. It was his design to direct them to unite in order
to deliberate in common on matters of common interest, and to
regain the royal initiative by laying down the lines of a new
constitution. ... On Saturday, the 20th, however, the course
of events was interrupted by the famous scene in the tennis
court. Troops had lately been pouring to an alarming extent
into Paris, and exciting much suspicion in the popular party,
and the Government very injudiciously selected for the royal
session on the following Monday the hall in which the Third
Order assembled. The hall was being prepared for the occasion,
and therefore no meeting could be held.
{1261}
The members, ignorant of the fact, went to their chamber and
were repelled by soldiers. Furious at the insult, they
adjourned to the neighbouring tennis court [Jeu-de-Paume]. A
suspicion that the King meant to dissolve them was abroad, and
they resolved to resist such an attempt. With lifted hands and
in a transport of genuine, if somewhat theatrical enthusiasm,
they swore that they would never separate 'till the
constitution of the kingdom and the regeneration of public
order were established on a solid basis.' ... One single
member, Martin d'Auche, refused his assent. The Third Estate
had thus virtually assumed the sole legislative authority in
France, and like the Long Parliament in England had denied the
King's power to dissolve them. ... Owing to the dissension
that had arisen, the royal session was postponed till the
23rd, but on the preceding day the National Assembly met in a
church, and its session was a very important one, for on this
occasion a great body of the clergy formally joined it. One
hundred and forty-eight members of the clergy, of whom 134
were curés, had now given their adhesion. Two of the nobles,
separating from their colleagues, took the same course. Next
day the royal session was held. The project adopted in the
council differed so much from that of Necker that this
minister refused to give it the sanction of his presence.
Instead of commanding the three orders to deliberate together
in the common interest, it was determined in the revised
project that the King should merely invite them to do so. ...
It was ... determined to withdraw altogether from the common
deliberation 'the form of the constitution to be given to the
coming States-General,' and to recognise fully the essential
distinction of the three orders as political bodies, though
they might, with the approval of the Sovereign, deliberate in
common. Necker had proposed ... that the King should
decisively, and of his own authority, abolish all privileges
of taxation, but in the amended article the King only
undertook to give his sanction to this measure on condition of
the two orders renouncing their privileges. On the other hand,
the King announced to the Assembly a long series of articles
of reform which would have made France a thoroughly
constitutional country, and have swept away nearly all the
great abuses in its government. ... He annulled the
proceedings of June 17, by which the Third Estate alone
declared itself the Legislature of France. He reminded the
Assembly that none of its proceedings could acquire the force
of law without his assent, and he asserted his sole right as
French Sovereign to the command of the army and police. He
concluded by directing the three orders to withdraw and to
meet next day to consider his proposals. The King, with the
nobles and the majority of the clergy, at once withdrew, but
the Third Order defiantly remained. It was evident that the
attempt to conciliate, and the attempt to assert the royal
authority, had both failed. The Assembly proclaimed itself
inviolable. It confirmed the decrees which the King had
annulled. Sieyès declared, in words which excited a transport
of enthusiasm, that what the Assembly was yesterday it still
was to-day; and two days later, the triumph of the Assembly
became still more evident by the adhesion of 47 of the
nobility. After this defection the King saw the hopelessness
of resistance, and on the 27th he ordered the remainder of the
nobles to take the same course. ... In the mean time the real
rulers of the country were coming rapidly to the surface. ...
Groups of local agitators and of the scum of the Paris mob
began to overawe the representatives of the nation, and to
direct the course of its policy. Troops were poured into
Paris, but their presence was an excitement without being a
protection, for day after day it became more evident that
their discipline was gone, and that they shared the sympathies
and the passions of the mob. ... At the same time famine grew
daily more intense, and the mobs more passionate and more
formidable. The dismissal of Necker on the evening of July 11
was the spark which produced the conflagration that had long
been preparing. Next day Paris flew to arms. The troops with
few exceptions abandoned the King."

_W. E. H. Lecky,
History of England in the 18th Century,
chapter 20 (volume 5)._

ALSO IN:
_E. Dumont,
Recollections of Mirabeau,
chapters 4-5._

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (July).
The mob in arms.
Anarchy in Paris.
The taking of the Bastille.

"On the 12th of July, near noon, on the news of the dismissal
of Necker, a cry of rage arises in the Palais-Royal; Camille
Desmoulins, mounted on a table, announces that the Court
meditates 'a St. Bartholomew of patriots.' The crowd embrace
him, adopt the green cockade which he has proposed, and oblige
the dancing-saloons and theatres to close in sign of mourning:
they hurry off to the residence of Curtius [a plaster-cast
master], and take the busts of the Duke of Orleans and of
Necker and carry them about in triumph. Meanwhile, the
dragoons of the Prince de Lambesc, drawn up on the Place
Louis-Quinze, find a barricade of chairs at the entrance of
the Tuilleries, and are greeted with a shower of stones and
bottles. Elsewhere, on the Boulevard, before the Hôtel
Montmorency, some of the French Guards, escaped from their
barracks, fired on a loyal detachment of the 'Royal Allemand.'
The tocsin is sounding on all sides, the shops where arms are
sold are pillaged, and the Hôtel-de-Ville is invaded; 15 or 16
well-disposed electors, who meet there, order the districts to
be assembled and armed.--The new sovereign, the people in arms
and in the street, has declared himself. The dregs of society
at once come to the surface. During the night between the 12th
and 13th of July, 'all the barriers, from the Faubourg
Saint-Antoine to the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, besides those of
the Faubourgs Saint-Marcel and Saint-Jacques, are forced and
set on fire.' There is no longer an 'octroi'; the city is
without a revenue just at the moment when it is obliged to
make the heaviest expenditures. ... 'During this fearful
night, the bourgeoisie kept themselves shut up, each trembling
at home for himself and those belonging to him.' On the following
day, the 13th, the capital appears to be given up to bandits
and the lowest of the low. ... During these two days and
nights, says Bailly, 'Paris ran the risk of being pillaged,
and was only saved from the marauders by the national guard.'
... Fortunately the militia organized itself, and the
principal inhabitants and gentlemen enrol themselves; 48,000
men are formed into battalions and companies; the bourgeoisie
buy guns of the vagabonds for three livres apiece, and sabres
or pistols for twelve sous. At last, some of the offenders are
hung on the spot, and others disarmed, and the insurrection again
becomes political.
{1262}
But, whatever its object, it remains always wild, because it
is in the hands of the populace. ... There is no leader, no
management. The electors who have converted themselves into
the representatives of Paris seem to command the crowd, but it
is the crowd which commands them. One of them, Legrand, to
save the Hôtel-de-Ville, has no other resource but to send for
six barrels of gun-powder, and to declare to the assailants
that he is about to blow everything into the air. The
commandant whom they themselves have chosen, M. de Salles, has
twenty bayonets at his breast during a quarter of an hour,
and, more than once, the whole committee is near being
massacred. Let the reader imagine, on the premises where the
discussions are going on, and petitions are being made, 'a
concourse of 1,500 men pressed by 100,000 others who are
forcing an entrance,' the wainscoting cracking, the benches
upset one over another ... a tumult such as to bring to mind
'the day of judgment,' the death-shrieks, songs, yells, and
'people beside themselves, for the most part not knowing where
they are nor what they want.' Each district is also a petty
centre, while the Palais-Royal is the main centre. ... One
wave gathers here and another there, their strategy consists
in pushing and in being pushed. Yet, their entrance is
effected only because they are let in. If they get into the
Invalides it is owing to the connivance of the soldiers.--At
the Bastille, firearms are discharged from ten in the morning
to five in the evening against walls 40 feet high and 30 feet
thick, and it is by chance that one of their shots reaches an
'invalide' on the towers. They are treated the same as
children whom one wishes to hurt as little as possible. The
governor, on the first summons to surrender, orders the cannon
to be withdrawn from the embrasures; he makes the garrison swear
not to fire if it is not attacked; he invites the first of the
deputations to lunch; he allows the messenger dispatched from
the Hôtel-de-Ville to inspect the fortress; he receives
several discharges without returning them, and lets the first
bridge be carried without firing a shot. When, at length, he
does fire, it is at the last extremity, to defend the second
bridge, and after having notified the assailants that he is
going to do so. ... The people, in turn, are infatuated with
the novel sensations of attack and resistance, with the smell
of gunpowder, with the excitement of the contest; all they can
think of doing is to rush against the mass of stone, their
expedients being on a level with their tactics: A brewer
fancies that he can set fire to this block of masonry by
pumping over it spikenard and poppy-seed oil mixed with
phosphorus. A young carpenter, who has some archæological
notions, proposes to construct a catapult. Some of them think
that they have seized the governor's daughter, and want to
burn her in order to make the father surrender. Others set
fire to a projecting mass of buildings filled with straw, and
thus close up the passage. 'The Bastille was not taken by main
force,' says the brave Elie, one of the combatants; 'it was
surrendered before even it was attacked,' by capitulation, on
the promise that no harm should be done to anybody. The
garrison, being perfectly secure, had no longer the heart to
fire on human beings while themselves risking nothing, and, on
the other hand, they were unnerved by the sight of the immense
crowd. Eight or nine hundred men only were concerned in the
attack, most of them workmen or shopkeepers belonging to the
faubourg, tailors, wheelwrights, mercers, and wine-dealers,
mixed with the French Guards. The Place de la Bastille,
however, and all the streets in the vicinity, were crowded
with the curious who came to witness the sight; 'among them,'
says a witness, 'were a number of fashionable women of very
good appearance, who had left their carriages at some
distance.' To the 120 men of the garrison, looking down from
their parapets, it seemed as though all Paris had come out
against them. It is they, also, who lower the drawbridge and
introduce the enemy; everybody has lost his head, the besieged
as well as the besiegers, the latter more completely because
they are intoxicated with the sense of victory. Scarcely have
they entered when they begin the work of destruction, and the
latest arrivals shoot at random those that come earlier; 'each
one fires without heeding where or on whom his shot tells.'
Sudden omnipotence and the liberty to kill are a wine too
strong for human nature. ... Elie, who is the first to enter
the fortress, Cholat, Hulin, the brave fellows who are in
advance, the French Guards who are cognizant of the laws of
war, try to keep their word of honour; but the crowd pressing
on behind them know not whom to strike, and they strike at
random. They spare the Swiss soldiers who have fired on them,
and who, in their blue smocks, seem to them to be prisoners;
on the other hand, by way of compensation, they fall furiously
on the 'invalides' who opened the gates to them; the man who
prevented the governor from blowing up the fortress has his
wrist severed by the blow of a sabre, is twice pierced with a
sword and is hung, and the hand which had saved one of the
districts of Paris is promenaded through the streets in
triumph. The officers are dragged along and five of them are
killed, with three soldiers, on the spot, or on the way." M.
de Launay, the governor, after receiving many wounds, while
being dragged to the Hotel-de-Ville, was finally killed by
bayonet thrusts, and his head, cut from his body, was
placarded and borne through the streets upon a pitchfork.

_H. A. Taine,
The French Revolution,
book 1, chapter 2 (volume 1)._

"I was present at the taking of the Bastille. What has been
styled the fight was not serious, for there was absolutely no
resistance shown. Within the hold's walls were neither
provisions nor ammunition. It was not even necessary to invest
it. The regiment of gardes françaises which had led the
attack, presented itself under the walls on the rue Saint
Antoine side, opposite the main entrance, which was barred by
a drawbridge. There was a discharge of a few musket shots, to
which no reply was made, and then four or five discharges from
the cannon. It has been claimed that the latter broke the
chains of the drawbridge. I did not notice this, and yet I was
standing close to the point of attack. What I did see plainly
was the action of the soldiers, invalides, or others, grouped
on the platform of the high tower, holding their muskets stock
in the air, and expressing by all means employed under similar
circumstances their desire of surrendering. The result of this
so-called victory, which brought down so many favors on the
heads of the so-called victors, is well-known. The truth is,
that this great fight did not for a moment frighten the
numerous spectators who had flocked to witness its result.
Among them were many women of fashion, who, in order to be
closer to the scene, had left their carriages some distance
away."

_Chancellor Pasquier,
Memoirs,
pages 55-56._

ALSO IN:
_D. Bingham,
The Bastille,
volume 2, chapters 9-12._

_R. A. Davenport,
History of the Bastile,
chapter 12._

_J. Claretie,
Camille Desmoulins and his Wife,
chapter 1, section 4._

{1263}

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (July).
Practical surrender of authority by the king.
Organization of the National Guard with Lafayette in command.
Disorder and riot in the provinces.
Hunger in the capital.
The murder of Foulon and Berthier.

"The next morning the taking of the Bastille bore its intended
fruit. Marshal de Broglie, who had found, instead of a loyal
army, only disaffected regiments which had joined or were
preparing to join the mob, sent in his resignation. ... The
king, deserted by his army, his authority now quite gone, had
no means of restoring order except through the Assembly. He
begged that body to undertake the work, promising to recall
the dismissed ministers. ... The power of the king had now
passed from him to the National Assembly. But that numerous
body of men, absorbed in interminable discussions on abstract
ideas, was totally incapable of applying its power to the
government of the country. The electors at the Hotel de Ville,
on the 15th of July, resolved that there must be a mayor to
direct the affairs of Paris, and a National Guard to preserve
order. Dangers threatened from every quarter. When the
question arose as to who should fill these offices, Moreau de
Saint Méry, the president of the electors, pointed to the bust
of Lafayette, which had been sent as a gift to the city of
Paris by the State of Virginia, in 1784. The gesture was
immediately understood, and Lafayette was chosen by
acclamation. Not less unanimous was the choice of Bailly for
mayor. Lafayette was now taken from the Assembly to assume the
more active employment of commanding the National Guard. While
the Assembly pursued the destruction of the old order and the
erection of a new, Lafayette, at the age of 82, became the
chief depositary of executive power. ... Throughout France,
the deepest interest was exhibited in passing events. ... The
victory of the Assembly over the king and aristocracy led the
people of the provinces to believe that their cause was
already won. A general demoralization ensued." After the
taking of the Bastille, "the example of rebellion thus set was
speedily followed. Rioting and lawlessness soon prevailed
everywhere, increased and imbittered by the scarcity of food.
In the towns, bread riots became continual, and the
custom-houses, the means of collecting the exorbitant taxes,
were destroyed. In the rural districts, châteaux were to be
seen burning on all sides. The towers in which were preserved
the titles and documents which gave to the nobleman his
oppressive rights were carried by storm and their contents
scattered. Law and authority were fast becoming synonymous
with tyranny; the word 'liberty,' now in every mouth, had no
other signification than license. Into Paris slunk hordes of
gaunt foot-pads from all over France; attracted by the
prospect of disorder and pillage. ... From such circumstances
naturally arose the National Guard. "The king had been asked,
on the 13th, by a deputation from the Assembly, "to confide
the care of the city to a militia," and had declined. The
military organization of citizens was then undertaken by the
electors at the Hotel de Ville, without his consent, and its
commander designated without his appointment. "The king was
obliged to confirm this choice, and he was thus deprived even
of the merit of naming the chief officer of the guard whose
existence had been forced upon him." On the 17th the king was
persuaded to visit the city, for the effect which his personal
presence would have, it was thought, upon the anxious and
excited public mind. Lafayette had worked with energy to
prepare his National Guard for the difficult duty of
preserving order and protecting the royal visitor on the
occasion. "So intense was the excitement and the
insurrectionary spirit of the time, so uncertain were the
boundaries between rascality and revolutionary zeal, that it
was difficult to establish the fact that the new guard was
created to preserve order and not to fight the king and
pillage the aristocracy. The great armed mob, now in process
of organization, had to be treated with great tact, lest it
should refuse to submit to authority in any shape." But short
as the time was, Lafayette succeeded in giving to the
powerless monarch a safe and orderly reception. "The king made
his will and took the sacraments before leaving Versailles,
for ... doubts were entertained that he would live to return."
He was met at the gates of Paris by the new mayor, Bailly, and
escorted through a double line of National Guards to the Hotel
de Ville. There he was obliged to fix on his hat the national
cockade, just brought into use, and to confirm the
appointments of Lafayette and Bailly. "Louis XVI. then
returned to Versailles, on the whole pleased, as the day had
been less unpleasant than had been expected. But the
compulsory acceptation of the cockade and the nominations
meant nothing less than the extinction of his authority. ...
Lafayette recruited his army from the bourgeois class, for the
good reason that, in the fever then raging for uncontrolled
freedom, that class was the only one from which the proper
material could be taken. The importance of order was impressed
on the bourgeois by the fact that they had, shops and houses
which they did not wish to see pillaged. ... The necessity for
strict police measures was soon to be terribly illustrated.
For a week past a large crowd composed of starving workmen,
country beggars, and army deserters, had thronged the streets,
angrily demanding food. The city was extremely short of
provisions, and it was impossible to satisfy the demands made
upon it. ... On July 22, an old man named Foulon, It member of
the late ministry, who had long been the object of public
dislike, and was now detested because it was rumored that he
said that 'the people might eat' grass,' was arrested in the
country, and brought to the Hotel de Ville, followed by a mob
who demanded his immediate judgment." Lafayette exerted vainly
his whole influence and his whole authority to protect the
wretched old man until he could be lodged in prison. The mob
tore its victim from his very hands and destroyed him on the
spot. The next day, Foulon's son-in-law, Berthier, the
Intendant of Paris, was arrested in the country, and the
tragedy was re-enacted. "Shocked by these murders and
disgusted by his own inability to prevent them, Lafayette sent
his resignation to the electors, and for some time persisted
in his refusal to resume his office. But no other man could be
found in Paris equally fitted for the place; so that on the
personal solicitation of the electors and a deputation from
the 60 districts of the city, he again took command."

_B. Tuckerman,
Life of General Lafayette,
volume 1, chapters 9-10._

ALSO IN:
_J. Michelet,
Historical View of the French
Revolution, book 2, chapters 1-2._

{1264}

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (July-August).
Cause and character of the "Emigration."

"Everything, or nearly everything, was done by the party
opposed to the Revolution in the excitement of the moment;
nothing was the result of reasoning. Who, for instance,
reasoned out the emigration? It has oftentimes been asked how
so extraordinary a resolution came to be taken; how it had
entered the minds of men gifted with a certain amount of sense
that there was any advantage to be derived from abandoning all
the posts where they could still exercise power; of giving
over to the enemy the regiments they commanded, the localities
over which they had control; of delivering up completely to
the teachings of the opposite party the peasantry, over whom,
in a goodly number of provinces, a valuable influence might be
exerted, and among whom they still had many friends; and all
this, to return for the purpose of conquering, at the sword's
point, positions, a number of which at least could be held
without a fight. No doubt it has been offered as an objection,
that the peasantry set fire to châteaux, that soldiers
mutinied against their officers. This was not the case at the
time of what has been called the first emigration, and, at any
rate, such doings were not general; but does danger constitute
sufficient cause for abandoning an important post? ... What is
the answer to all this? Merely what follows. The voluntary
going into exile of nearly the whole nobility of France, of
many magistrates who were never to unsheath a sword, and
lastly, of a large number of women and children,--this
resolve, without a precedent in history, was not conceived and
determined upon as a State measure; chance brought it about. A
few, in the first instance, followed the princes who had been
obliged, on the 14th of July, to seek safety out of France,
and others followed them. At first, it was merely in the
nature of a pleasant excursion. Outside of France, they might
freely enjoy saying and believing anything and everything. ...
The wealthiest were the first to incur the expense of this
trip, and a few brilliant and amiable women of the Court
circle did their share to render most attractive the sojourn
in a number of foreign towns close to the frontier. Gradually
the number of these small gatherings increased, and it was
then that the idea arose of deriving advantage from them. It
occurred to the minds of a few men in the entourage of the
Comte d'Artois, and whose moving spirit was M. de Calonne,
that it would be an easy matter for them to create a kingdom
for their sovereign outside of France, and that if they could
not in this fashion succeed in giving him provinces to reign
over, he would at least reign over subjects, and that this
would serve to give him a standing in the eyes of foreign
powers, and determine them to espouse his cause. ... Thus in
'89, '90, and '91, there were a few who were compelled to fly
from actual danger; a small number were led away by a genuine
feeling of enthusiasm; many felt themselves bound to leave,
owing to a point of honor which they obeyed without reasoning
it out; the mass thought it was the fashion, and that it
looked well; all, or almost all, were carried away by
expectations encouraged by the wildest of letters, and by the
plotting of a few ambitious folk, who were under the
impression that they were building up their fortunes."

_Chancellor Pasquier,
Memoirs,
pages 64-66._

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (August).
The Night of Sacrifices.
The sweeping out of Feudalism.

"What was the Assembly doing at this period, when Paris was
waiting in expectation, and the capture of the Bastille was
being imitated all over France; when châteaux were burning,
and nobles flying into exile; when there was positive civil
war in many a district, and anarchy in every province? Why,
the Assembly was discussing whether or not the new
constitution of France should be prefaced by a Declaration of
the Rights of Man. In the discussion of this extremely
important question were wasted the precious days which
followed July 17. ... The complacency of these theorists was
rudely shaken on August 4, when Salomon read to the Assembly
the report of the Comité des Recherches, or Committee of
Researches, on the state of France. A terrible report it was.
Châteaux burning here and there; millers hung; tax-gatherers
drowned; the warehouses and depots of the gabelle burnt;
everywhere rioting, and nowhere peace. ... Among those who
listened to the clear and forcible report of Salomon were
certain of the young liberal noblesse who had just been dining
with the Duc de la Roehefoucauld-Liancourt, a wise and
enlightened nobleman. At their head was the Vicomte de
Noailles, a young man of thirty-three, who had distinguished
himself at the head of his regiment under his cousin,
Lafayette, in America. ... The Vicomte de Noailles was the
first to rush to the tribune. 'What is the cause of the evil
which is agitating the provinces?' he cried; and then he
showed that it arose from the uncertainty under which the
people dwelt, as to whether or not the old feudal bonds under
which they had so long lived and laboured were to be
perpetuated or abolished, and concluded an impassioned speech
by proposing to abolish them at once. One after another the
young liberal noblemen, and then certain deputies of the tiers
état, followed him with fresh sacrifices. First the old feudal
rights were abolished; then the rights of the dovecote and the
game laws; then the old copyhold services; then the tithes
paid to the Church, in spite of a protest from Siéyès; then
the rights of certain cities over their immediate suburbs and
rural districts were sacrificed; and the contention during
that feverish night was rather to remember something or other
to sacrifice than to suggest the expediency of maintaining
anything which was established. In its generosity the Assembly
even gave away what did not belong to it. The old dues paid to
the pope were abolished, and it was even declared that the
territory of Avignon, which had belonged to the pope since the
Middle Ages, should be united to France if it liked; and the
sitting closed with a unanimous decree that a statue should be
erected to Louis XVI., 'the restorer of French liberty.' Well
might Mirabeau define the night of August 4 as a mere 'orgie.'
... Noble indeed were the intentions of the deputies. ...
{1265}
Yet the results of this night of sacrifices were bad rather
than good. As Mirabeau pointed out, the people of France were
told that all the feudal rights, dues, and tithes had been
abolished that evening, but they were not told at the same
time that there must be taxes and other burdens to take their
place. It was of no use to issue a provisional order that all
rights, dues, and taxes remained in force for the present,
because the poor peasant would refuse to pay what was illegal,
and would not understand the political necessity of supporting
the revenue. ... This ill-considered mass of resolutions was
what was thrown in the face of France in a state of anarchy to
restore it to a state of order."

_H. M. Stephens,
History of the French Revolution,
volume 1, chapter 5._

ALSO IN:
A. Thiers, History of the French Revolution,
(American edition), volume 1, pages 81-84.

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (August-October).
Constitution-making and the Rights of Man.
The first emigration of nobles.
Famine in Paris.
Rumors of an intended flight of the King.

"One may look upon the peculiarity of the Assembly as being a
singular faith in the power of ideas. That was its greatness.
It firmly believed that truth shaped into laws would be
invincible. Two months--such was the calculation--would
suffice to construct the constitution. That constitution by
its omnipotent virtue would convince all men and bend them to
its authority, and the revolution would be completed. Such was
the faith of the National Assembly. The attitude of the people
was so menacing that many of the courtiers fled. Thus
commenced the first emigration. ... As if the minds of men
were not sufficiently agitated, there now were heard cries of
a great conspiracy of the aristocrats. The papers announced
that a plot had been discovered which was to have delivered
Brest to the English. Brest, the naval arsenal, wherein France
for whole centuries had expended her millions and her labours:
this given up to England! England would once more overrun France!
... It was amidst these cries of alarm--with on one hand the
emigration of the nobility, on the other the hunger of a
maddened people; with here an irresolute aristocracy, startled
at the audacity of the 'canaille,' and there a resolute
Assembly, prepared, at the hazard of their lives, to work out
the liberty of France; amidst reports of famine, of
insurrections, and wild disorders of all sorts, that we find
the National Assembly debating upon the rights of man,
discussing every article with metaphysical quibbling and
wearisome fluency, and, having finally settled each article,
making their famous Declaration. This Declaration, which was
solemnly adopted by the Assembly, on the 18th of August, was
the product of a whole century of philosophical speculation,
fixed and reduced to formulas, and bearing unmistakeable
traces of Rousseau. It declared the original equality of
mankind, and that the ends of social union are liberty,
property, security, and resistance to oppression. It declared
that sovereignty resides in the nation, from whence all power
emanates; that freedom consists in doing everything which does
not injure another; that law is the expression of the general
will; that public burdens should be borne by all the members
of the state in proportion to their fortunes; that the
elective franchise should be extended to all; that the
exercise of natural rights has no other limit than their
interference with the rights of others; that no man should be
persecuted for his religious opinions, provided he conform to
the laws and do not disturb the religion of the state; that
all men have the right of quitting the state in which they
were born, and of choosing another country, by renouncing
their rights of citizenship; that the liberty of the press is
the foremost support of public liberty, and the law should
maintain it, at the same time punishing those who abuse it by
distributing seditious discourses, or calumnies against
individuals." Having adopted its Declaration of the rights of
man, the Assembly proceeded to the drawing up of a
constitution which should embody the principles of the
Declaration, and soon found itself in passionate debate upon
the relations to be established between the national
legislature and the king. Should the king retain a veto upon
legislation? Should he have any voice in the making of laws?
"The lovers of England and the English constitution all voted
in favour of the veto. Even Mirabeau was for it." Robespierre,
just coming into notice, bore a prominent part in the
opposition. "The majority of the Assembly shared Robespierre's
views; and the King's counselors were at length forced to
propose a compromise in the shape of a suspensive veto;
namely, that the King should not have the absolute right of
preventing any law, but only the right of suspending it for
two, four, or six years. ... It was carried by a large
majority." Meantime, in Paris, "vast and incalculable was the
misery: crowds of peruke-makers, tailors, and shoemakers, were
wont to assemble at the Louvre and in the Champs Elysées,
demanding things impossible to be granted; demanding that the
old regulations should be maintained, and that new ones should
be made; demanding that the rate of daily wages should be
fixed; demanding ... that all the Savoyards in the country
should be sent away, and only Frenchmen employed. The bakers'
shops were besieged, as early as five o'clock in the morning,
by hungry crowds who had to stand 'en queue'; happy when they
had money to purchase miserable bread, even in this
uncomfortable manner. ... Paris was living at the mercy of
chance: its subsistence dependent on some arrival or other:
dependent on a convoy from Beauce, or a boat from Corbeuil.
The city, at immense sacrifices, was obliged to lower the
price of bread: the consequence was that the population for
more than ten leagues round came to procure provisions at
Paris. The uncertainty of the morrow augmented the
difficulties. Everybody stored up, and concealed provisions.
The administration sent in every direction, and bought up
flour, by fair means, or by foul. It often happened that at
midnight there was but half the flour necessary for the
morning market. Provisioning Paris was a kind of war. The
National Guard was sent to protect each arrival; or to secure
certain purchases by force of arms. Speculators were afraid;
farmers would not thrash any longer; neither would the miller
grind. 'I used to see,' says Bailly, 'good tradesmen, mercers
and goldsmiths, praying to be admitted among the beggars
employed at Montmartre, in digging the ground.' Then came
fearful whispers of the King's intention to fly to Metz. What
will become of us if the King should fly? He must not fly; we
will have him here; here amongst us in Paris! This produced
the famous insurrection of women ... on the 5th October."

_G. H. Lewes,
Life of Robespierre,
chapter 9._

_H. von Sybel,
History of the French Revolution,
book 1, chapters 3-4 (volume 1)._

{1266}

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (October).
The Insurrection of Women.
Their march to Versailles.

"A thought, or dim raw-material of a thought, was fermenting
all night [October 4-5], universally in the female head, and
might explode. In squalid garret, on Monday morning Maternity
awakes, to hear children weeping for bread. Maternity must
forth to the streets, to the herb-markets and Bakers'-queues;
meets there with hunger-stricken Maternity, sympathetic,
exasperative. O we unhappy women! But, instead of
Bakers'-queues, why not to Aristocrats' palaces, the root of
the matter? Allons! Let us assemble. To the Hôtel-de-Ville; to
Versailles; to the Lanterne! In one of the Guard houses of the
Quartier Saint-Eustache, 'a young woman' seizes a drum,--for
how shall National Guards give fire on women, on a young
woman? The young woman seizes the drum; sets forth, beating
it, 'uttering cries relative to the dearth of grains.'
Descend, O mothers; descend, ye Judiths, to food and
revenge!--All women gather and go; crowds storm all stairs,
force out all women: the female Insurrectionary Force,
according to Camille, resembles the English Naval one; there
is a universal 'Press of women.' Robust Dames of the Halle,
slim Mantua-makers, assiduous, risen with the dawn; ancient
Virginity tripping to matins; the Housemaid, with early broom;
all must go. Rouse ye, O, women; the laggard men will not act;
they say, we ourselves may act! And so, like snowbreak from
the mountains, for every staircase is a melted brook, it
storms; tumultuous, wild-shrilling, towards the
Hôtel-de-Ville. Tumultuous; with or without drum-music: for
the Faubourg Saint-Antoine also has tucked-up its gown; and
with besom-staves, fire-irons, and even rusty pistols (void of
ammunition), is flowing on. Sound of it flies, with a velocity
of sound, to the utmost Barriers. By seven o'clock, on this
raw October morning, fifth of the month, the Townhall will see
wonders. ... Grand it was, says Camille, to see so many
Judiths, from eight to ten thousand of them in all, rushing
out to search into the root of the matter! Not unfrightful it
must have been; ludicro-terrific, and most unmanageable. At
such hour the overwatched Three Hundred are not yet stirring:
none but some Clerks, a company of National Guards; and M. de
Gouvion, the Major-general. Gouvion has fought in America for
the cause of civil Liberty; a man of no inconsiderable heart,
but deficient in head. He is, for the moment, in his back
apartment; assuaging Usher Maillard, the Bastille-sergeant,
who has come, as too many do, with 'representations.' The
assuagement is still incomplete when our Judiths arrive. The
National Guards form on the outer stairs, with levelled
bayonets; the ten thousand Judiths press up, resistless; with
obtestations, with outspread hands,--merely to speak to the
Mayor. The rear forces them; nay from male hands in the rear,
stones already fly: the National Guard must do one of two
things; sweep the Place de Greve with cannon, or else open to
right and left. They open: the living deluge rushes in.
Through all rooms and cabinets, upwards to the topmost belfry:
ravenous; seeking arms, seeking Mayors, seeking justice;--
while, again, the better-dressed speak kindly to the Clerks;
point out the misery of these poor women; also their ailments,
some even of an interesting sort. Poor M. de Gouvion is
shiftless in this extremity;--a man shiftless, perturbed: who
will one day commit suicide. How happy for him that Usher
Maillard the shifty was there, at the moment, though making
representations! Fly back, thou shifty Maillard: seek the
Bastille Company; and O return fast with it; above all, with
thy own shifty head! For, behold, the Judiths can find no
Mayor or Municipal; scarcely, in the topmost belfry, can they
find poor Abbé Lefèvre the Powder-distributor. Him, for want
of a better, they suspend there: in the pale morning light;
over the top of all Paris, which swims in one's failing
eyes:--a horrible end? Nay the rope broke, as French ropes
often did; or else an Amazon cut it. Abbe Lefèvre falls, some
twenty feet, rattling among the leads; and lives long years
after, though always with 'a tremblement in the limbs.' And
now doors fly under hatchets; the Judiths have broken the
Armory; have seized guns and cannons, three money-bags,
paper-heaps; torches flare: in few minutes, our brave
Hôtel-de-Ville, which dates from the Fourth Henry, will, with
all that it holds, be in flames! In flames, truly,--were it
not that Usher Maillard, swift of foot, shifty of head, has
returned! Maillard, of his own motion,--for Gouvion or the
rest would not even sanction him,--snatches a drum: descends
the Porch-stairs, ran-tan, beating sharp, with loud rolls, his
Rogues'-march: To Versailles! Allons; à Versailles! As men
beat on kettle or warming-pan, when angry she-bees, or say,
flying desperate wasps, are to be hived; and the desperate
insects hear it, and cluster round it,--simply as round a
guidance, where there was none: so now these Menads round
shifty Maillard, Riding-Usher of the Châtelet. The axe pauses
uplifted; Abbé Lefèvre is left half-hanged: from the belfry
downwards all vomits itself. What rub-a-dub is that? Stanislas
Maillard, Bastille hero, will lead us to Versailles? Joy to
thee, Maillard; blessed art thou above Riding-Ushers! Away,
then, away! The seized cannon are yoked with seized
cart-horses: brown-locked Demoiselle Théroigne, with pike and
helmet, sits there as gunneress. ... Maillard (for his drum
still rolls) is, by heaven-rending acclamation, admitted
General. Maillard hastens the languid march. ... And now
Maillard has his Menads in the Champs Elysées (Fields
Tartarean rather); and the Hôtel-de-Ville has suffered
comparatively nothing. ... Great Maillard! A small nucleus of
Order is round his drum; but his outskirts fluctuate like the
mad Ocean: for Rascality male and female is flowing in on him,
from the four winds: guidance there is none but in his single
head and two drum-sticks. ... On the Elysian Fields there is
pause and fluctuation; but, for Maillard, no return. He
persuades his Menads, clamorous for arms and the Arsenal, that
no arms are in the Arsenal; that an unarmed attitude, and
petition to a National Assembly, will be the best: he hastily
nominates or sanctions generalesses, captains of tens and
fifties;--and so, in loosest-flowing order, to the rhythm of
some 'eight drums' (having laid aside his own), with the
Bastille Volunteers bringing up his rear, once more takes the
road. Chaillot, which will promptly yield baked loaves, is not
plundered; nor are the Sèvres Potteries broken. ... The press of
women still continues, for it is the cause of all Eve's
Daughters, mothers that are, or that ought to be. No
carriage-lady, were it with never such hysterics, but must
dismount, in the mud roads, in her silk shoes, and walk. In
this manner, amid wild October weather, they, a wild unwinged
stork-flight, through the astonished country wend their way."

_T. Carlyle,
The French Revolution,
volume 1, book 7, chapters 4-5._

{1267}

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (October).
The mob of men at Versailles, with Lafayette
and the National Guard.
The king and royal family brought to Paris.

Before the memorable 5th day of October closed, the movement
of the women upon Versailles was followed by an outpouring, in
the same direction, of the masculine mob of Paris, headed by
the National Guard. "The commander, Lafayette, opposed their
departure a long time, but in vain; neither his efforts nor
his popularity could overcome the obstinacy of the people. For
seven hours he harangued and retained them. At length,
impatient at this delay, rejecting his advice, they prepared
to set forward without him; when, feeling that it was now his
duty to conduct as it had previously been to restrain them, he
obtained his authorisation from the corporation, and gave the
word for departure about seven in the evening. "Meantime the
army of the amazons had arrived at Versailles, and excited the
terrors of the court. "The troops of Versailles flew to arms
and surrounded the château, but the intentions of the women
were not hostile. Maillard, their leader, had recommended them
to appear as suppliants, and in that attitude they presented
their complaints successively to the assembly and to the king.
Accordingly, the first hours of this turbulent evening were
sufficiently calm. Yet it was impossible but that causes of
hostility should arise between an excited mob and the
household troops, the objects of so much irritation. The
latter were stationed in the court of the château opposite the
national guard and the Flanders regiment. The space between
was filled by women and volunteers of the Bastille. In the
midst of the confusion, necessarily arising from such a
juxtaposition, a scuffle arose; this was the signal for
disorder and conflict. An officer of the guards struck a
Parisian soldier with his sabre, and was in turn shot in the
arm. The national guards sided against the household troops;
the conflict became warm, and would have been sanguinary, but
for the darkness, the bad weather, and the orders given to the
household troops, first to cease firing and then to retire.
... During this tumult, the court was in consternation; the
flight of the king was suggested, and carriages prepared; a
piquet of the national guard saw them at the gate of the
orangery, and having made them go back, closed the gate:
moreover, the king, either ignorant of the designs of the
court, or conceiving them impracticable, refused to escape.
Fears were mingled with his pacific intentions, when he
hesitated to repel the aggression or to take flight.
Conquered, he apprehended the fate of Charles I. of England;
absent, he feared that the duke of Orleans would obtain the
lieutenancy of the kingdom. But, in the meantime, the rain,
fatigue, and the inaction of the household troops, lessened
the fury of the multitude, and Lafayette arrived at the head
of the Parisian army. His presence restored security to the
court, and the replies of the king to the deputation from
Paris satisfied the multitude and the army. In a short time,
Lafayette's activity, the good sense and discipline of the
Parisian guard, restored order everywhere. Tranquillity
returned. The crowd of women and volunteers, overcome by
fatigue, gradually dispersed, and some of the national guard
were entrusted with the defence of the château, while others
were lodged with their companions in arms at Versailles. The
royal family, re-assured after the anxiety and fear of this
painful night, retired to rest about two o'clock in the
morning. Towards five, Lafayette, having visited the outposts
which had been confided to his care, and finding the watch
well kept, the town calm, and the crowds dispersed or
sleeping, also took a few moments repose. About six, however,
some men of the lower class, more enthusiastic than the rest,
and awake sooner than they, prowled round the château. Finding
a gate open, they informed their companions, and entered.
Unfortunately, the interior posts had been entrusted to the
household guards, and refused to the Parisian army. This fatal
refusal caused all the misfortunes of the night. The interior
guard had not even been increased; the gates scarcely visited,
and the watch kept as negligently as on ordinary occasions. These
men, excited by all the passions that had brought them to
Versailles, perceiving one of the household troops at a
window, began to insult him. He fired, and wounded one of
them. They then rushed on the household troops, who defended
the château breast to breast, and sacrificed themselves
heroically. One of them had time to warn the queen, whom the
assailants particularly threatened; and, half dressed, she ran
for refuge to the king. The tumult and danger were extreme in
the château. Lafayette, apprised of the invasion of the royal
residence, mounted his horse, and rode hastily to the scene of
danger. On the square he met some of the household troops
surrounded by an infuriated mob, who were on the point of
killing them. He threw himself among them, called some French
guards who were near, and, having rescued the household troops
and dispersed their assailants, he hurried to the château. He
found it already secured by the grenadiers of the French
guard, who, at the first noise of the tumult, had hastened and
protected the household troops from the fury of the Parisians.
But the scene was not over; the crowd assembled again in the
marble court under the king's balcony, loudly called for him,
and he appeared. They required his departure for Paris; he
promised to repair thither with his family, and this promise
was received with general applause. The queen was resolved, to
accompany him; but the prejudice against her was so strong
that the journey was not without danger; it was necessary to
reconcile her with the multitude. Lafayette proposed to her to
accompany him to the balcony; after some hesitation, she
consented. They appeared on it together, and to communicate by
a sign with the tumultuous crowd, to conquer its animosity, and
awaken its enthusiasm, Lafayette respectfully kissed the
queen's hand; the crowd responded with acclamations. It now
remained to make peace between them and the household troops.
Lafayette advanced with one of these, placed his own
tricoloured cockade on his hat, and embraced him before the
people, who shouted 'Vivent les gardes-du-corps!' Thus
terminated this scene; the royal family set out for Paris,
escorted by the army and its guards mixed with it."

_F. A. Mignet,
History of the French Revolution,
chapter 2._

ALSO IN:
_B. Tuckerman,
Life of Lafayette,
volume 1, chapter 11._

{1268}

FRANCE: A. D. 1789-1791.
The new constitution.
Appropriation and sale of Church property.
Issue of Assignats.
Abolition of titles of honor.
Civil constitution of the clergy.
The Feast of the Federation.
The Émigrés on the border and their conduct.

"The king was henceforth at the mercy of the mob. Deprived of
his guards, and at a distance from his army, he was in the
centre of the revolution; and surrounded by an excited and
hungry populace. He was followed to Paris by the Assembly;
and, for the present, was protected from further outrages by
Lafayette and the national guards. Mirabeau, who was now in
secret communication with the court, warned the king of his
danger, in the midst of the revolutionary capital. 'The mob of
Paris,' he said, 'will scourge the corpses of the king and
queen.' He saw no hope of safety for them, or for the State,
but in their withdrawal from this pressing danger, to
Fontainebleau or Rouen, and in a strong government, supported
by the Assembly, pursuing liberal measures, and quelling
anarchy. His counsels were frustrated by events; and the
revolution had advanced too far to be controlled by this
secret and suspected adviser of the king. Meanwhile, the
Assembly was busy with further schemes of revolution and
desperate finance. France was divided into departments: the
property of the Church was appropriated to meet the urgent
necessities of the State; the disastrous assignats were
issued: the subjection of the clergy to the civil power was
decreed: the Parliaments were superseded, and the judicature
of the country was reconstituted, upon a popular basis: titles
of honour, orders of knighthood, armorial bearings--even
liveries--were abolished: the army was reorganised, and the
privileges of birth were made to yield to service and
seniority. All Frenchmen were henceforth equal, as 'citoyens':
and their new privileges were wildly celebrated by the
planting of trees of liberty. The monarchy was still
recognised, but it stood alone, in the midst of revolution."

_Sir T. E. May,
Democracy in Europe,
chapter 13 (volume 2)._