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)._
"The monarchy was continued and liberally endowed; but it was
shorn of most of its ancient prerogatives, and reduced to a
very feeble Executive; and while it obtained a perilous veto
on the resolutions and acts of the Legislature, it was
separated from that power, and placed in opposition to it, by
the exclusion of the Ministers of the Crown from seats and
votes in the National Assembly. The Legislature was composed
of a Legislative Assembly, formed of a single Chamber alone,
in theory supreme, and almost absolute; but, as we have seen,
it was liable to come in conflict with the Crown, and it had
less authority than might be supposed, for it was elected by a
vote not truly popular, and subordinate powers were allowed to
possess a very large part of the rights of Sovereignty which
it ought to have divided with the King. This last portion of
the scheme was very striking, and was the one, too, that most
caused alarm among distant political observers. Too great
centralization having been one of the chief complaints against
the ancient Monarchy, this evil was met with a radical reform.
... The towns received extraordinary powers; their
municipalities had complete control over the National Guards
to be elected in them, and possessed many other functions of
Government; and Paris, by these means, became almost a
separate Commonwealth, independent of the State, and directing
a vast military force. The same system was applied to the
country; every Department was formed into petty divisions,
each with its National Guards, and a considerable share of
what is usually the power of the government. ... Burke's
saying was strictly correct, 'that France was split into
thousands of Republics, with Paris predominating and queen of
all.' With respect to other institutions of the State, the
appointment of nearly all civil functionaries, judicial and
otherwise, was taken from the Crown, and abandoned to a like
popular election; and the same principle was also applied to
the great and venerable institution of the Church, already
deprived of its vast estates, though the election of bishops
and priests by their flocks interfered directly with Roman
Catholic discipline, and probably, too, with religious dogma.
... Notwithstanding the opposition of Necker, who, though
hardly a statesman, understood finance, it was resolved to
sell the lands of the Church to procure funds for the
necessities of the State; and the deficit, which was
increasing rapidly, was met by an inconvertible currency of
paper, secured on the lands to be sold. This expedient ... was
carried out with injudicious recklessness. The Assignats, as
the new notes were called, seemed a mine of inexhaustible
wealth, and they were issued in quantities which, from the
first moment, disturbed the relations of life and commerce,
though they created a show of brisk trade for a time. In
matters of taxation the Assembly, too, exceeded the bounds of
reason and justice; exemptions previously enjoyed by the rich
were now indirectly extended to the poor; wealthy owners of
land were too heavily burdened, while the populace of the
towns went scot free. ... Very large sums, also, belonging to
the State, were advanced to the Commune of Paris, now rising
into formidable power. ... The funds so obtained were lavishly
squandered in giving relief to the poor of the capital in the
most improvident ways--in buying bread dear and reselling it
cheap, and in finding fanciful employment for artizans out of
work. The result, of course, was to attract to Paris many
thousands of the lowest class of rabble, and to add them to
the scum of the city. ... On the first anniversary [July 14,
1790] of the fall of the Bastille, and before the Constitution
had been finished ... a great national holiday [called the Feast
of the Federation] was kept; and, amidst multitudes of
applauding spectators, deputations from every Department in
France, headed by the authorities of the thronging capital,
defiled in procession to the broad space known as the Field of
Mars, along the banks of the Seine. An immense amphitheatre
had been constructed [converting the plain into a valley, by
the labor of many thousands, in a single week], and decorated
with extraordinary pomp; and here, in the presence of a
splendid Court, of the National Assembly, and of the
municipalities of the realm, and in the sight of a great
assemblage surging to and fro with throbbing excitement, the
King took an oath that he would faithfully respect the order
of things that was being established, while incense streamed
from high-raised altars, and the ranks of 70,000 National
Guards burst into loud cheers and triumphant music; and even
the Queen, sharing in the passion of the hour, and radiant
with beauty, lifted up in her arms the young child who was to
be the future chief of a disenthralled and regenerate people.
...
{1269}
The following week was gay with those brilliant displays which
Paris knows how to arrange so well; flowery arches covered the
site of the Bastille, fountains ran wine, and the night blazed
with fire; and the far-extending influence of France was
attested by enthusiastic deputations of 'friends of liberty'
from many parts of Europe, hailing the dawn of an era of
freedom and peace. The work, however, of the National Assembly
developed some of its effects ere long. The abolition of
titles of honor filled up the measure of the anger of the
Nobles; the confiscation of the property of the Church, above
all, the law as to the election of priests, known as the Civil
Constitution of the Clergy, shocked all religious or
superstitious minds. ... The emigration of the Nobles, which
had become very general from the 5th and 6th of October, went
on in daily augmenting numbers; and, in a short time, the
frontiers were edged with bands of exiles breathing vengeance
and hatred. In many districts the priests denounced as
sacrilege, what had been done to the Church, divided the
peasantry, and preached a crusade against what they called the
atheist towns; and angry mutinies broke out in the Army, which
left behind savage and relentless feelings. The relations
between the King and the Assembly, too, became strained, if
not hostile, at every turn of affairs, to the detriment of
anything like good government; and while Louis sunk into a
mere puppet, the Assembly, controlled in a great measure by
demagogues and the pampered mobs of Paris, felt authority
gradually slipping from it." To all the many destructive and
revolutionary influences at work was now added "the pitiful
conduct of those best known by the still dishonorable name of
'Émigrés.' In a few months the great majority of the
aristocracy of France had fled the kingdom, abandoned the
throne around which they had stood, breathing maledictions
against a contemptuous Nation, as arrogant as ever in the
impotence of want, and thinking only of a counter-revolution
that would cover the natal soil with blood. ... Their utter
want of patriotism and of sound feeling made thousands believe
that the state of society which had bred such creatures ought
to be swept away."
_W. O'C. Morris,
The French Revolution and First Empire,
chapter 3._
ALSO IN:
_H. Van Sybel,
History of the French Revolution,
book 1, chapter 5, and book 2, chapters 3-5._
_M'me de Stael,
Considerations on the French Revolution,
part 2, chapters 12-19 (volume l)._
_E. Burke,
Reflections on the Revolution in France._
_A. F. Bertrand de Moleville,
Annals of the French Revolution,
part 1, chapters 22-35 (volumes 2-3)._
_Duchess de Tourzell,
Memoirs,
volume 1, chapters 3-11._
_W. H. Jervis,
The Gallican Church and the Revolution.,
chapters 1-4._
FRANCE: A. D. 1790.
The rise of the Clubs.
Jacobins, Cordeliers, Feuillants, Club Monarchique, and Club
of '89.
"Every party sought to gain the people; it was courted as
sovereign. After attempting to influence it by religion,
another means was employed, that of the clubs. At that period,
clubs were private assemblies, in which the measures of
government, the business of the state, and the decrees of the
assembly, were discussed; their deliberations had no
authority, but they exercised a certain influence. The first
club owed its origin to the Breton deputies, who already met
together at Versailles to consider the course of proceeding
they should take. When the national representatives were
transferred from Versailles to Paris, the Breton deputies and
those of the assembly who were of their views held their
sittings in the old convent of the Jacobins, which
subsequently gave its name to their meetings. It did not at
first cease to be a preparatory assembly, but as all things
increase in time, the Jacobin Club did not confine itself to
influencing the assembly; it sought also to influence the
municipality and the people, and received as associates
members of the municipality and common citizens. Its
organization became more regular, its action more powerful;
its sittings were regularly reported in the papers; it created
branch clubs in the provinces, and raised by the side of legal
power another power which first counselled and then conducted
it. The Jacobin Club, as it lost its primitive character and
became a popular assembly, had been forsaken by part of its
founders. The latter established another society on the plan
of the old one, under the name of the Club of '89. Siéyes,
Chapelier, Lafayette, La Rochefoucauld, directed it, as Lameth
and Barnave directed that of the Jacobins. Mirabeau belonged
to both, and by both was equally courted. These clubs, of
which the one prevailed in the assembly, and the other amongst
the people, were attached to the new order of things, though
in different degrees. The aristocracy sought to attack the
revolution with its own arms; it opened royalist clubs to
oppose the popular clubs. That first established, under the
name of the Club des Impartiaux, could not last because it
addressed itself to no class opinion. Reappearing under the
name of the Club Monarchique, it included among its members
all those whose views it represented. It sought to render
itself popular with the lower classes, and distributed bread;
but, far from accepting its overtures, the people considered
such establishments as a counter-revolutionary movement. It
disturbed their sittings, and obliged them several times to
change their place of meeting. At length, the municipal
authority found itself obliged, in January, 1791, to close
this club, which had been the cause of several riots."
_F. A. Mignet,
History of the French Revolution,
chapter 3._
"At the end of 1790 the number of Jacobin Clubs was 200, many
of which--like the one in Marseilles--contained more than a
thousand members. Their organization extended through the
whole kingdom, and every impulse given at the centre in Paris
was felt at the extremities. ... It was far indeed from
embracing the majority of adult Frenchmen, but even at that
time it had undoubtedly become--by means of its strict
unity--the greatest power in the kingdom."
_H. von Sybel,
History of the French Revolution,
book 1, chapter 5 (volume 1)._
"This Jacobin Club soon divided itself into three other clubs:
first, that party which looked upon the Jacobins as lukewarm
patriots left it, and constituted themselves into the Club of
the Cordeliers, where Danton's voice of thunder made the halls
ring; and Camille Desmoulins' light, glancing wit played with
momentous subjects. The other party, which looked upon the
Jacobins as too fierce, constituted itself into the 'Club of
1789; friends of the monarchic constitution;' and afterwards
named Feuillant's Club, because it met in the Feuillant
Convent. Lafayette was their chief; supported by the
'respectable' patriots. These clubs generated many others, and
the provinces imitated them."
_G. H. Lewes,
Life of Robespierre,
chapter 10._
{1270}
"The Cordeliers were a Parisian club; the Jacobins an immense
association extending throughout France. But Paris would stir
and rise at the fury of the Cordeliers; and Paris being once
in motion, the political revolutionists were absolutely
obliged to follow. Individuality was very powerful among the
Cordeliers. Their journalists, Marat, Desmoulins, Fréron,
Robert, Hébert and Fabre d'Églantine, wrote each for himself.
Danton, the omnipotent orator, would never write; but, by way
of compensation, Marat and Desmoulins, who stammered or
lisped, used principally to write, and seldom spoke. ... The
Cordeliers formed a sort of tribe, all living in the
neighbourhood of the club."
_J. Michelet,
Historical View of the French Revolution,
book 4, chapters 7 and 5._
ALSO IN:
_T. Carlyle,
The French Revolution,
volume 2, book 1, chapter 5._
_H. A. Taine,
The French Revolution,
book 4 (volume 2)._
FRANCE: A. D. 1790-1791.
Revolution at Avignon.
Reunion of the old Papal province with France decreed.
"The old residence of the Popes [Avignon] remained until the
year 1789 under the papal government, which, from its
distance, exercised its authority with great mildness, and
left the towns and villages of the country in the enjoyment of
a great degree of independence. The general condition of the
population was, however, much the same as in the neighbouring
districts of France--agitation in the towns and misery in the
country. It is not surprising, therefore, that the commotion
of August 4th should extend itself among the subjects of the
Holy see. Here, too, castles were burned, black mail levied on
the monasteries, tithes and feudal rights abolished. The city
of Avignon soon became the centre of a political agitation,
whose first object was to throw off the papal yoke, and then
to unite the country with France. ... In June, 1790, the
people of Avignon tore down the papal arms, and the Town
Council sent a message to Paris, that Avignon wished to be
united to France." Some French regiments were sent to the city
to maintain order; but "the greater part of them deserted, and
marched out with the Democrats of the town to take and sack
the little town of Cavaillon, which remained faithful to the
Pope. From this time forward civil war raged without
intermission. ... The Constituent Assembly, on the 14th of
September, 1791, decreed the reunion of the country with
France. Before the new government could assert its authority,
fresh and more dreadful atrocities had taken place," ending
with the fiendish massacre of 110 prisoners, held by a band of
ruffians who had taken possession of the papal castle.
_H. von Sybel,
History of the French Revolution,
book 3, chapter 2 (volume 1)._
FRANCE: A. D. 1790-1791.
The oath of the clergy.
First movements toward the European coalition
against French democracy.
Death of Mirabeau.
The King's flight and arrest at Varennes.
Rise of a Republican Party.