Chapter XVII: The Royal Family Carried to Paris

Waning Popularity of La Fayette.--The King contemplates
Flight.--Letter of Admiral d'Estaing.--The Flanders Regiment called
to Versailles.--Fete in the Ball-room at Versailles.--Insurrection
of the Women; their March to Versailles.--Horrors of the Night of
October 5th.--The Royal Family conveyed to Paris.

The press now began to assail Bailly and La Fayette as in league with the aristocrats. The Assembly at the Palais Royal was becoming paramount, a terrific power, threatening ruin to all who should advocate measures of moderation. The most violent harangues roused the populace, and it was evident that they could be easily turned by their leaders into any path of destruction. Threatening letters flooded the National Assembly, and one of great ferocity was signed by St. Huruge. Though he declared it a forgery, he was arrested and imprisoned. The municipal authority also forbade farther meetings in the Palais Royal, and La Fayette, with the National Guard, dispersed the gatherings.

The king now seriously contemplated flight, that, at a safe distance from Paris and surrounded by chosen troops, he might dictate terms to his people, or, if they refused, prepare, by the aid of foreign arms, for war. About one hundred and eighty miles northeast of Paris, on the frontiers of France, was the city of Metz. The city contained about fifty thousand inhabitants, and its fortifications, constructed by Vauban, were of the most extensive and formidable kind. The Marquis de Bouille, one of the most devoted servants of the king, and subsequently one of the most active agents in urging the foreign powers to march against France, commanded, in garrison there, thirty thousand picked troops, resolute Royalists, and who had been taught to regard the popular movement with contempt.

The plan was well matured for the king to escape to Metz. There he was to be joined by the court, the nobles with all their retainers, the ancient parliaments of the provinces, all composed of the aristocratic class, and by all the soldiers whom the Royalist officers could induce to follow them to that rendezvous. Then, by the employment of all the energies of fire and blood, France was to be brought back into subjection to the old regime.

La Fayette knew of this plan, and yet he did not dare to divulge it to the people, for he knew that it would provoke a fierce and terrible outbreak. He saw the peril in which the royal family was involved, and he wished for their protection. He saw the doom with which the liberties of France were menaced, and the liberty for which he was struggling was dearer to him than life. If the king had been either a merciless despot or a reliable friend of liberty, then would La Fayette's path of duty have been plain. But the king was an amiable, kindly-intentioned, weak-minded, vacillating man, quite the tool of the inexorable court.

It is difficult to conceive of a situation more embarrassing than that in which La Fayette was now placed. He was at the head of the National Guard and was informed of all the plots of the court. He wished to be faithful to his sovereign, and wished also to be true to his country. Without the connivance, or at least secret assent of La Fayette, it was hardly possible for the king to escape.

The old admiral D'Estaing was commander of the National Guard at Versailles. He was a man of noble birth, of magnanimous character, and, though with true patriotism he espoused the popular cause, he was, like La Fayette, in favor of a monarchy, and was sincerely friendly to the king. On the 13th of September he dined with La Fayette at Paris. Here the marquis unfolded to the amazed admiral the terrible secret in all its details; that the Baron Breteuil, one of the most implacable enemies of the Revolution, was arranging with the Austrian embassador for the co-operation of Austria; that eighteen regiments had already taken the oath of fidelity to the court; that the Royalists, in large numbers, were already congregating at Metz; that the nobles and the clergy had combined in raising funds, so that fifteen hundred thousand francs ($300,000) a month were secured; that measures were already adopted to besiege Paris, cut off all supplies, and starve the city into subjection; and that more than sixty thousand of the clergy and nobility were pledged to rally around the king.

D'Estaing was appalled by the tidings. He knew that if the populace were informed of the conspiracy it would rouse them to phrensy, that no earthly power could protect the royal family from their fury, and that instantly the fiercest civil war would blaze from the Rhine to the Pyrenees. Aware of the imbecility of the king, and that the queen was the author of every vigorous measure, he immediately addressed a very earnest letter to her. He wrote as follows in a letter long, earnest, and imploring:

"It is necessary--my duty and my loyalty require it--that I should lay at the feet of the queen the account of the visit which I have paid to Paris. I am praised for sleeping soundly the night before an assault or a naval engagement. I venture to assert that I am not timorous in civil matters, but I must confess to your majesty that I did not close my eyes all night.

"I was told--and, gracious heaven! what would be the consequence if this were circulated among the people--I was told that the king was to be carried off to Metz. La Fayette told me so in a whisper at dinner. I trembled lest a single domestic should overhear him. I observed to him that a word from his lips might become the signal of death. I implore your majesty to grant me an audience some day this week."[226]

Such a secret could not long be kept. It soon began to be openly spoken of in the streets as a suspicion, a rumor. Under pretense of protecting the National Assembly from any violence by the mob from Paris, the king called a regiment to Versailles from Flanders. This was a regiment in whose officers and soldiers he could rely, and which was to aid him in his flight. The troops marched into the city with an imposing array of artillery and infantry, exciting increasing suspicion, and were assembled as a guard around the palace.

It was on the 23d of September that this Flanders regiment entered Versailles, and were stationed around the regal chateau, thus doubling the body-guard of the king. It was also observed that a very unusual number of officers crowded the streets of Versailles, estimated at from a thousand to twelve hundred.[227] A dinner was given to these officers on the 1st of October, in the hall of the Opera at the palace. No expense was spared to add splendor to the _fete_, to which all were invited who could probably be led to co-operate with the court. Wine flowed freely, and, deep in the hours of the night, when all heads were delirious, the king and queen, with the young dauphin, entered the banqueting-hall. They were received with almost phrensied acclaim. The boxes of the Opera were thronged with ladies of the court, adding to the enthusiasm. The king, the queen, the dauphin, were toasted with delirious shouts. When some one proposed "the nation," the toast was scornfully rejected. As the royal family made the tour of the tables, the band struck up the air, "O Richard, O my king, the world is all forsaking thee." The officers leaped upon the chairs and the tables, drew their swords, and vowed eternal fidelity to the king. And now ensued a scene which no language can describe. The officers clambered into the boxes, and received the cordial greetings of the ladies; the revolutionary movement was cursed intensely; the tricolored cockade, the badge of popular rights, was trampled under foot, and the white cockade, the emblem of Bourbon power, was accepted in its stead from the hands of the ladies. The next day there was another similar entertainment in the palace, to which a still larger number of guests were invited, and the convivialities were still more exciting and violent. The courtiers, with that fatuity which ever marked their conduct, were now so encouraged, that they began with insolent menaces to manifest their exultation.

The tidings of these _fetes_ spread rapidly through Versailles and Paris, exciting intense indignation. The court was feasting; the people starving. Versailles was filled with rejoicing; Paris with mourning. Despotism was exulting in its anticipated triumph, while the nation was threatened with the loss of its newly-acquired rights. The king had thus far delayed giving his assent to the Constitution. Disquietude pervaded the National Assembly, and confused murmurs filled the thoroughfares of Paris--terrible rumors of the approaching war, of the league with the German princes, of the increasing famine, and the threatened blockade of Paris. "We must bring the king to Paris," all said, "or the court will carry him off, and war will immediately be commenced."

The morning of the 5th of October dawned, dark, cold, and stormy. A dismal rain flooded the streets. There were thousands in Paris that morning who had eaten nothing for thirty hours.[228] The women, in particular, of the humbler class, were in an awful state of destitution and misery. The populace of Paris were actually starving. An energetic woman, half delirious with woe, seized a drum, and strode through the streets beating it violently, occasionally shrieking, "Bread! bread!" She soon collected a crowd of women, which rapidly increased from a few hundred to seven or eight thousand. The men gazed with wonder upon this strange apparition, such as earth had, perhaps, never seen before. Like a swelling inundation the living flood rolled through the streets, and soon the cry was heard, "To Versailles!" As by a common instinct, the tumultuous mass rushed along by the side of the Tuileries and through the Elysian Fields toward Versailles. A few of the more fierce and brutal of the women had guns or pistols. Chancing to find a couple of cannon, they seized them, and also horses to drag the ponderous engines, upon which female furies placed themselves astride, singing revolutionary songs.

La Fayette gazed appalled upon the strange phenomenon. The troops of the National Guard refused to arrest their course, declaring that they could not resist starving women, who were going to implore bread of their king. La Fayette was powerless. He had under arms that morning thirty-five thousand troops, cavalry, infantry, and artillery. He could only follow the women, to watch the opening of events. Behind these troops advancing in all the glittering panoply of war, followed a straggling mass of, no one can tell how many thousands of the populace of Paris, of all classes, characters, conditions. The city seemed emptied of its inhabitants, as the road to Versailles, ten or twelve miles in length, was filled with the tumultuous multitude. No one, apparently, had any definite object, but each one was going to see what the others would do.

Couriers were sent forward to warn the king and queen of the impending peril. The good-natured, silly king had gone to Meudon to amuse himself in chasing hares. Nothing can more conclusively show his utter incapacity to govern a great kingdom, than that he should have been so employed at such an hour. The king was sent for, and speedily returned to Versailles. Marie Antoinette had all the energy and heroism of her mother, Maria Theresa. When entreated immediately to secure her escape with her two children, she replied,

"Nothing shall induce me to be separated from my husband. I know that they seek my life; but I am the daughter of Maria Theresa, and have learned not to fear death."

The king was entreated to escape, but he was fearful that his flight might embolden the Assembly to declare the throne vacant, and to place the crown upon the head of the Duke of Orleans, who had, with that object probably in view, vociferously espoused the popular cause. From the windows of Versailles the royal family soon descried the vast multitude plodding along through the mud and the rain as they approached Versailles. It is said that there were some men in the mob, disguised as women, who gave impulse and direction to the mass. A man by the name of Maillard, of gigantic stature, and possessed of wonderful tact, succeeded in obtaining the post of leader. In this alarming state of affairs, the king sent to the Assembly a partial acceptance of the Constitution. As the Assembly were discussing this question, the women arrived at the hall. Maillard entered, and the women crowded after him. Respectfully, but earnestly, on behalf of the women, he represented the starving condition of Paris, and complained of the insult which the nation had received in the fete at the palace.

It was now three o'clock in the afternoon. The rain was still falling. A dark, stormy night was at hand, and the streets of Versailles were filled with countless thousands of the most desperate men and women, utterly destitute of shelter. The Assembly, in alarm, requested their president, M. Mounier, to go to the palace and petition for fresh measures of relief. M. Mounier was compelled to allow twelve women to accompany him. The king received them kindly. The women had adroitly selected, as the leader of their deputation, a very beautiful young flower-girl, but seventeen years of age, of remarkably graceful form and lovely features. The girl, overcome by her sensations, endeavored in vain to speak, and fainted. The king took her in his arms, embraced her as if she had been his child, and was so paternal that he completely won the hearts of all the women. They left the palace with such enthusiastic accounts of the goodness of the king, that the Amazons on the outside accused them of having been bribed, and, in their rage, were ready to tear them in pieces. The poor flower-girl would have been hanged with garters to a lamp-post had not the soldiers rescued her.

The king now summoned a council, which continued in session until ten o'clock. Still, by some unpardonable neglect, no measures were adopted to provide for the wants of the famished mob. It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening before La Fayette arrived with the National Guard.[229] The soldiers of the guard, intelligent citizens, were only to be controlled by the _personal influence_ of their general. _Authority_ is only established by time and consolidated institutions. La Fayette hastened to the palace to assure the royal family that every thing in his power should be done to secure their safety. The king, however, would not intrust the guard of the palace to La Fayette, as he thought he could place more reliance in the Flanders regiment, the Swiss mercenaries, and his own Life-Guard, than in the National Guard, who were all devoted to the popular cause.

In the confusion of those dreadful hours, all the entrances to the palace had not been defended. La Fayette, however, stationed an effectual guard at all the outposts which had been assigned to him. Through all the hours of the night, until five o'clock in the morning, La Fayette was sleeplessly engaged sending out patrols and watching over the public peace. Then, finding all tranquil, he threw himself upon a sofa for rest, having been constantly and anxiously employed for the last twenty-four hours. Groups of shivering, famished people were gathered around large fires, which they had built in the streets, and in one place they were devouring the half-roasted flesh of a horse which they had killed. The queen, worn out with sleeplessness, had retired to her chamber. The king had also gone to his chamber, which was connected with that of the queen by a hall, through which they could mutually pass. Two soldiers guarded the door of the queen's chamber. Some of the mob, prowling around the palace, found a gate unguarded, and, entering the palace without any obstruction, ascended the stairs, and, pressing blindly on, came to the door of the queen's apartment. The soldiers heroically resisted them, and shouted to others to save the queen. She heard the cry, and, springing from her bed, rushed in her night-clothes to the king's room. The brigands pushed resolutely forward, and found the royal bed forsaken. A number of the Life-Guards hastened to the spot, and arrested their farther progress; and the soldiers of La Fayette, who had been stationed at a little distance, hearing the tumult, hastened to their aid.

The noise roused the mob, and a conflict immediately ensued between the soldiers and the phrensied multitude. La Fayette, who had not yet fallen asleep, sprung from his couch, and, hastening to the palace, found several of the king's troops on the point of being slaughtered. One of the brigands aimed a musket at La Fayette, but the mob seized him and dashed out his brains upon the pavement. The Life-Guards and the Grenadiers of La Fayette soon cleared the palace; and the whole court acknowledged that they were indebted to La Fayette for their lives. Madame Adelaide, the queen's aunt, threw her arms around him, exclaiming "General, you have saved us."[230]

The morning of the 6th was now dawning, and the whole multitude, swarming around the palace, demanded as with one voice that the king should go to Paris. A council was held, and it was decided by the court that the king should comply. Slips of paper announcing the decision were thrown to the people from the windows. Loud shouts now rose of "Long live the King!" But threatening voices were raised against the queen, who was hated as an Austrian, and as one who was endeavoring to bring the armies of Austria to crush liberty in France.

"Madame," said La Fayette to the queen, "the king goes to Paris; what will you do?"

"Accompany the king," was the queen's undaunted reply.

"Come with me, then," rejoined the general.

He led the queen upon a balcony, from whence she looked out upon the multitude, agitated like the ocean in a storm. All eyes were speedily fixed upon her as she stood by the side of La Fayette, and held by the hand her little son, the dauphin. The murmurs of the crowd were immediately succeeded by expressions of admiration. La Fayette took her hand, and, raising it to his lips, respectfully kissed it. An almost universal shout of "Long live the Queen!" was the response of the multitude to this graceful and well-timed act. The queen then stepped back into the room, and said to La Fayette, "My guards, can you not do something for them?" "Give me one," said La Fayette, and, leading the soldier to the balcony, he presented him to the people, and handed him the tricolored cockade. The guard kissed it, and placed it on his hat. The people were satisfied, reconciled, and cheered with hearty plaudits. Many of the garde du corps had been taken prisoners, and they all would have been murdered by the mob but for the vigorous efforts of La Fayette to rescue them from their hands.

The Assembly, being apprised of the king's intention to go to Paris, passed a resolution that the Assembly was inseparable from the person of the king, and nominated a hundred deputies to accompany him to the metropolis. Two of the king's body-guard had been killed, and some wretches had cut off their heads, and were parading them about on pikes.[231]

It was one o'clock when the carriages containing the royal family left Versailles.[232] The whole mob of Paris, men and women, a tumultuous, clamorous multitude, went in advance. Following immediately the carriages of the court came the hundred deputies, also in coaches. Then came the National Guard. Carts laden with corn and flour, escorted by Grenadiers, followed the immense train. None were so malignant and merciless as the degraded women who composed so large a part of this throng. "We shall now," they exclaimed, "have bread, for we have with us the baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's boy."

It required seven hours for this unwieldy mass to urge its slow progress to Paris. The king was conducted to the Hotel de Ville, where he was received by M. Bailly, the mayor. The royal family descended from their carriages by torch-light, and entered the great hall, where they were received with acclamations. After the ceremony of reception by the municipality of Paris was over, the king and his family were conducted to the Tuileries. The vast palace had not been the residence of the royal family for a hundred years, and its spacious and poorly-furnished apartments presented but a cheerless aspect. The National Guard were stationed around the palace, and thus La Fayette was made responsible for the safe-keeping of the person of the king. Thus terminated the eventful days of the 5th and 6th of October, 1789. The king was now virtually a prisoner, and the nobles could no longer avail themselves of his name in enforcing, by the aid of foreign armies, despotism upon France.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 225: Mounier, who was strongly in favor of two chambers and an absolute veto, in his _Report to his Constituents_, writes, in reference to some private and friendly conferences held at this time:

"These conferences, twice renewed, were unsuccessful. They were recommenced at the house of an American known for his abilities and his virtues, who had both the experience and the theory of the institutions proper for maintaining liberty. He gave an opinion in favor of my principles."

This American was unquestionably Thomas Jefferson. He saw the peril with which the Revolution was menaced, and that freedom needed as strong a guard against the blind impulses of the populace as against the encroachments of the court. Two houses might perhaps have checked the rush to ruin, but could hardly have averted the disaster. For ages the nobles had been "sowing the wind." It was the decree of God that they should "reap the whirlwind." "He visiteth the iniquities of the fathers upon the children."]

[Footnote 226: Brouillon: le Lettre de M. d'Estaing a la Reine (in Histoire Parlementaire, vol. iii., p. 24).]

[Footnote 227: "Le ministre de la guerre multiplia les conges de semestre, afin d'avoir un corps de volontaires royaux, compose de douze cent cents officiers."--_Villiaume_, p. 34.]

[Footnote 228: Moniteur, vol. i., p. 568. Histoire de Deux Amis de la Liberte, t. iii.]

[Footnote 229: Thiers, vol. i., p. 106.]

[Footnote 230: "M. de la Fayette has been so calumniated, and his character is nevertheless so pure, so consistent, that it is right to devote at least one note to him. His conduct during the fifth and sixth of October was that of continual self-devotion, and yet it has been represented as criminal by men who owed their lives to it. The spirit of party, feeling the danger of allowing any virtues to a Constitutionalist, denied the services of La Fayette, and then commenced that long series of calumnies to which he has ever since been exposed."--_Thiers_, vol. i., p. 108.]

[Footnote 231: Thiers, vol. i., p. 111.]

[Footnote 232: "I saw her majesty in her cabinet an instant before her departure for Paris. She could scarcely speak. Tears poured down her face, to which all the blood in her body seemed to have mounted. She did me the favor to embrace me, and gave her hand to M. Campan to kiss, saying to us, Come immediately to take up your abode in Paris. We are utterly lost; dragged probably to death. Captive kings are always very near it."--_Madame Campan_, vol. ii., p. 84.]