COMMOTION IN PARIS.
The Remains of Voltaire removed to the Pantheon.--Decision of
the Assembly on the Flight of the King.--Thomas Paine.--Views
of the Constitutional Monarchists.--Message from La Fayette
to the King of Austria.--The Jacobins summon the Populace to
the Field of Mars.--Mandate of the Jacobins.--The Crowd on the
Field of Mars dispersed by the Military.--Completion of the
Constitution.--Remarkable Conversation of Napoleon.--The King
formally accepts the Constitution.--Great, but transient, Popularity
of the Royal Family.
In the midst of these stormy scenes the Assembly voted to remove
the remains of Voltaire, which had slumbered for thirteen years in
the obscure abbey of Scellières in Champagne, to the Pantheon in
Paris. On the 11th of July his coffin was received with great pomp
at the barriers, and conducted to a pedestal on the ancient site of
the Bastille, constructed from one of the foundation-stones of the
fortress. Voltaire had once been imprisoned in that gloomy citadel.
Upon the pedestal which supported the coffin were engraved the words,
"Receive on this spot, where despotism once fettered thee, the honors
decreed thee by thy country."
The next day a brilliant sun invited the whole population of Paris to
the fête. The car which bore the coffin to the Pantheon was drawn by
twelve white horses, harnessed four abreast. They were very richly
caparisoned, and led by postillions in antique attire. An immense body
of cavalry headed the procession. The wail of requiems and the roar of
muffled drums blended with the booming of minute guns from the adjacent
heights. The sarcophagus was preceded, surrounded, and followed by
the National Assembly, the municipal authorities of the city, and by
deputations from all the illustrious and dignified bodies of France.
Scholars, laborers, artists, and, conspicuously, all the actors and
actresses of Paris, took part in the pageant. Arches, with garlands of
leaves and wreaths of roses, spanned the streets. Groups of beautiful
girls, dressed in white, carpeted the path with flowers. At intervals,
bands of music were placed, saluting the car as it approached with
bursts of melody. Before each of the principal theatres the procession
stopped, and a hymn was sung in commemoration of the achievements of
the great dramatist. It was ten o'clock at night before the immense
procession reached the Pantheon. The coffin was deposited between those
of Descartes and Mirabeau.
[Illustration: THE REMAINS OF VOLTAIRE TRANSFERRED TO THE PANTHEON.]
It was the pen of Voltaire which overthrew despotism in France. It was
also the pen of Voltaire which banished for so long from human hearts
thoughts of God and of future responsibility. Thus then sprung up,
in the place of the despotism he had overthrown, another despotism
a thousand fold more terrible. With consummate genius and utter
destitution of all moral principle, he was the demon of destruction,
sweeping the good and the bad alike into indiscriminate ruin. He
could fawn upon the infamous Frederic, and palliate his vices. He was
ever ready to bow the knee to the paramours of Louis XV. There was no
prostitution of genius which could cause him to blush. The venomous
spirit with which he pursued the religion of Christ is fully expressed
by his motto, "_Crush the wretch_." The genius of Voltaire induced
France to attempt to establish liberty without religion. The terrific
result will probably dissuade from any future repetition of that
experiment.
The club of the Jacobins was greatly roused by the moderation of the
Assembly, and began to clamor for the entire overthrow of the monarchy
and the establishment of a republic. On the evening of the 15th of July
a meeting of the club was held at which four thousand persons were
present. It was a scene of wild enthusiasm. La Fayette, Barnave, and
others who were in favor of a constitutional monarchy were denounced
as traitors. Robespierre and Danton were the orators of the evening,
and they were greeted with thunders of applause. A petition was sent to
the Assembly, which assumed the tone of an order, demanding that the
king should be deposed as a perfidious traitor to his oaths. It was a
meeting of the mob virtually repudiating the Assembly, and assuming for
itself both legislative and executive power. The tumultuous gathering
was not dispersed until after midnight. Here originated that spirit of
lawless violence which subsequently transformed Paris into a field of
blood.
On the 16th the commissioners made their report to the Assembly on
the flight of the king. Both the commissioners and the Assembly
were disposed to be lenient. They were already very anxious in view
of popular tumult and menacing anarchy. They had still no wish to
overthrow the monarchy and establish a republic. Such a measure
would be full of danger to France in its distracted state, and would
exasperate a thousand fold the surrounding monarchies. There was no
one for whom they wished to exchange their present king. He was the
legitimate monarch, which gave him vast power over all the aristocracy
of Europe. He had sworn to defend the Constitution, and it was so
manifestly for his interest now to consent to be a constitutional
monarch that it was hoped that he would sincerely accept that popular
cause which would secure for him popular support. Though no one doubted
that it had been the intention of the vacillating monarch to throw
himself into the midst of foreign armies, and by the aid of their
artillery and swords to force the Old Régime again upon France, a very
generous report, exculpating the king from blame, was presented and
adopted.
Influenced by these views, it was argued that the king had committed
no crime. He surely had a right, if he wished, to take a journey to
Montmedy. There was no proof that he intended any thing more, he had
violated no law. The Assembly therefore decreed that "in the journey
there was nothing culpable."[288]
The Jacobin press now became very bold. "No more king," exclaimed
Brissot in the _Patriot_; "let us be Republicans. Such is the cry at
the Palais Royal, and it does not gain ground fast enough."
"No king! no protector! no regent!" shouted Fauchet in the _Bouche de
Fer_ (the Mouth of Iron).
An address was read to the Jacobin Club openly demanding the
annihilation of royalty; and though this address was received at first
with murmurs--for the majority, even of the Jacobins, were not then
prepared for such a step--the new doctrine with marvelous rapidity
spread through the lower orders of Paris, and very speedily gained the
ascendency in the club. Danton mounted the tribune of the Jacobin Club
on the 23d of June, and demanded the forfeiture of the throne. "Your
king," said he, "is either a knave or an idiot. If we must have one of
the two, who would not prefer the latter?"
The Jacobin Club had now become very formidable. It already numbered
eighteen hundred members in Paris alone, each of whom was admitted to
its meetings by a ticket. Two hundred and fifty affiliated clubs were
scattered throughout the principal cities. It occupied the large chapel
of the Convent, and had its president, its secretaries, its tribune,
its regular order of business, and its journal, in which its debates
and resolutions were published. Many of the ablest members of the
Assembly were members of the club, and their most powerful efforts of
eloquence were addressed to the club, regarding its voice as beginning
to be more potent than that of the Assembly. The Jacobin Club was
rapidly becoming the great power of the kingdom, with an excitable mob
ever at its disposal as its military arm.
The Journal of the Jacobins, edited by Laclos, a confidant of the Duke
of Orleans, overwhelmed the monarch with a torrent of insults and
objurgations. Thomas Paine, the notorious reviler of Christianity, was
then in Paris, and one of the most violent of the Jacobin Club. He
wrote an inflammatory address, which was posted on all the walls of
Paris, urging the peremptory dethronement of the king.
The views entertained by La Fayette and the Constitutional Monarchists
can not be better conveyed than in the eloquent language of Barnave, in
a speech addressed to the Assembly on this occasion.
"I will not dilate," said he, "on the advantages of monarchical
government. You have proved your conviction by establishing it in
your country. Some men, whose motives I shall not impugn, seeking
for examples to adduce, have found in America a people occupying a
vast territory with a scanty population, nowhere surrounded by very
powerful neighbors, having forests for their boundaries, and having
for customs the feelings of a new race, and who are wholly ignorant
of those factitious passions and impulses which effect revolutions of
government. They have seen a republican government established in that
land, and have thence drawn the conclusion that a similar government
was suitable for us.
"But if it be true that in our territory there is a vast population;
that we have a multitude of men exclusively devoted to those
intellectual speculations which excite ambition and the love of fame;
that powerful neighbors compel us to form one compact body in order
to resist them--if these circumstances are wholly independent of
ourselves, then it is undeniable that the sole existing remedy lies in
a monarchical government.
"When a country is populous and extensive, there are but two modes
of assuring to it a solid and permanent existence. Either you must
organize those parts separately, placing in each section of the empire
a portion of the government, thus maintaining security at the expense
of unity, strength, and all the advantages which result from a great
and homogeneous association, or else you will be forced to centralize
an unchangeable power, which, never renewed by the law, presenting
incessant obstacles to ambition, resists with advantage the shocks,
rivalries, and rapid vibrations of an immense population, agitated by
all the passions engendered by long-established society.
"These facts decide our position. We can only be strong through a
_federative government_, which no one here has the madness to propose,
or by a _monarchical government_ such as you have established. You have
intrusted to an _inviolable_ king the exclusive function of naming the
agents of his power, but you have made those agents responsible.
"Immense damage is done us when that revolutionary impetus, which has
destroyed every thing there was to destroy, and which has urged us to
the point where we must at last pause, is perpetuated. The Revolution
can not advance one step farther without danger. In the line of
_liberty_ the first act which follows is the annihilation of royalty.
In the line of _equality_ the first act which must follow is an attempt
on all property. It is time to end the Revolution. It ought to stop
when the nation is free, and all men have equal rights. If it continue
in trouble it is dishonored, and we with it. Yes! all the world ought
to agree that the common interest is involved in now closing the
Revolution.
"Those who have lost ought to perceive that it is impossible to make
the Revolution retrograde. Those who fashioned the Revolution should
see that it has attained its consummation. Kings themselves--if from
time to time profound truths can penetrate the councils of kings,
if occasionally the prejudices which surround them will permit the
sound views of a great and philosophical policy to reach them--kings
themselves must learn that there is for them a wide difference between
the example of a great reform in government and that of the abolition
of royalty; that if we pause here, where we are, they are still kings!
But, be their conduct what it may, let the fault come from them and not
from us. Regenerators of the empire, follow straightly your undeviating
line. You have been courageous and potent--be to-day wise and moderate.
In this will consist the glorious termination of your efforts. Then
again returning to your domestic hearths you will obtain, if not
blessings, at least the silence of calumny."
Though these views of moderation were opposed alike by the aristocrats
and the Jacobins, they were accepted with applause by the great
majority of the Assembly. Aristocrats and Jacobins now combined to
disturb in every possible way the action of the Assembly. They both
hoped through tumult and anarchy to march into power. Mobs began to
reassemble in the streets of Paris, and cries of treason were uttered
against La Fayette and his fellow-constitutionalists. Already in the
market-place, at the Palais Royal, and in the hall of the Jacobins,
individuals denounced that Constitution as tyrannical which the nation
had so recently, with unutterable enthusiasm, sworn to support.[289]
La Fayette, Barnave, the Lameths, Talleyrand, and other illustrious
friends of a constitutional monarchy, sent a confidential note to the
Emperor of Austria, assuring him that the Constitution conferred as
much power upon the king as it was possible now to obtain from the
French nation; that any invasion of France by the allies would only
exasperate the people, bring the Jacobins into power, endanger the
life of the king, and that it could not be successful in restoring the
Old Régime. The king was consulted upon this measure, and gave it his
approval.[290]
Notwithstanding these warnings, the monarchs of Europe, who were
trembling lest the spirit of liberty, rising in France, should
undermine their despotic thrones, resolved to crush the patriots
beneath the tramp of their dragoons. Leopold of Austria, Frederick
William of Prussia, and Count d'Artois, with Bouillé and other of
the emigrants, met at Pilnitz, and on the 27th of August signed
an agreement that the French Revolution was an "open revolt," "a
scandalous usurpation of power," and that all the governments of Europe
were bound to unite to abate the nuisance.[291]
The Jacobin Club, it will be remembered, in a stormy midnight debate,
had drawn up a petition to the Assembly demanding the deposition of the
king as a perjured traitor. They wished, by a demonstration of popular
enthusiasm, to terrify the Assembly into obedience to their mandate.
Accordingly, the whole populace of Paris were summoned to meet on the
Field of Mars, to sign, with much parade, the petition on the Altar of
Federation, which had not yet been taken down.
At an early hour on the morning of the 17th of July the multitude
began to congregate. It was the Sabbath-day. Every scene in the drama
of the Revolution seems to have been arranged on the sublimest scale.
Soon from fifty to one hundred thousand, including the lowest of the
population of Paris, were thronging the field, and clambering over the
gigantic altar.[292] Two men were seized, under the absurd accusation
that they were intending to blow up the altar and all upon it by means
of a barrel of gunpowder. The cry of "Aristocrats!" which passed like a
tornado through the crowd, precluded any trial, and settled their doom.
The two unhappy men were literally torn to pieces, and their heads
were borne about on pikes by brutal wretches who were now beginning to
emerge from dens of obscurity into confidence and power.
The rumor of these murders and of the threatening attitude of the mob
spread through the city and reached the ears of the Assembly. The
principal ringleaders of the Jacobins were nowhere to be found, and it
was asserted and generally believed that they were in a secret place,
that they might escape responsibility, while, through their agents,
they were rousing the mob to a demonstration which should overawe the
Assembly. In the midst of the wildest imaginable scene of tumult and
uproar, the _mandate_ of the Jacobins--for it could with no propriety
be called a _petition_--was placed upon the altar upon many separate
sheets of paper, and speedily received six thousand signatures. This
was a new order, drawn up at the moment, for the original document
could not be found. It read as follows:
"Representatives of the people! your labors are nearly ended. A great
crime has been committed. Louis has fled, abandoning his post. The
country is on the verge of ruin. The king has been arrested, brought
back to Paris, and the people demand that he be tried. You declare that
he shall be king. The people do not wish it, and therefore annul your
decree. The king has been carried off by the two hundred and ninety-two
_aristocrats_ who have themselves declared that they have no longer a
voice in the National Assembly. Your decree is annulled, because it is
in opposition to the voice of the people, your sovereign. Repeal it.
The king has abdicated by crime. Receive his abdication."
Nothing could be more execrable than this usurpation of authority
by the mob. The Assembly was composed of the representatives of
twenty-five millions of people, acting under the calm deliberation
which the forms of law exacted. And here six thousand men, women, and
boys, belched forth perhaps from the dens of infamy in Paris, and
arming themselves with a mob of fifty thousand of the most degraded
of the populace of a great city, assumed to be _the nation_--the law
makers and the law executors of the kingdom of France.[293]
The municipality ordered La Fayette, with a detachment of the National
Guard, to proceed to the scene of tumult and disperse the rioters. The
moment the soldiers appeared they were received with hisses, shouts,
and a shower of stones from the populace. Several of the stones struck
La Fayette, and he narrowly escaped death from a pistol-shot fired
at him. The attitude of the mob was so threatening that La Fayette
retired for a stronger force. He soon returned, accompanied by Bailly,
the mayor of the city, and all the municipal authorities, and followed
by ten thousand of the National Guard. The red flag, which proclaimed
that the city was placed under martial law, was now floating from the
Hôtel de Ville. The tramp of ten thousand men,[294] with the rolling
of artillery and the beating of four hundred drums, arrested the
attention of the throng. The troops, debouching by three openings which
intersected the glacis, were, as by magic, drawn up facing the throng.
M. Bailly, upon horseback, displayed the red flag, in accordance with
the Riot Act law, and ordered the mob to disperse.[295]
The response was a shout from fifty thousand men, women, and boys of
"Down with the red flag! Down with Bailly! Death to La Fayette!" The
clamor became hideous, and a shower of mud and stones fell upon La
Fayette and the mayor, and several pistol-shots from a distance were
discharged at them. The crowd, accustomed to lawlessness, did not
believe that the municipal government would dare to order the soldiers
to fire.
[Illustration: PUBLICATION OF MARTIAL LAW ON THE FIELD OF MARS, JULY
17, 1791.]
La Fayette, with mistaken humanity, ordered the advance guard to fire
into the air. The harmless volley was followed by shouts of derision
and defiance. It now became necessary to give the fatal order. One
volley swept the field. The crash was followed by a shriek, as four
hundred dead or wounded fell upon the plain, and as the smoke passed
away the whole tumultuous mass was seen flying in terror over the
embankments and through the avenues. The artillerymen, with the
coolness of trained soldiers, were just upon the point of opening their
fire of grapeshot upon the panic-stricken fugitives, when La Fayette,
unable to make his voice heard through the uproar, heroically threw
himself before the cannon, and thus saved the lives of thousands. The
National Guard, saddened by the performance of a duty as painful as
it was imperious, returned in the evening through the dark streets of
Paris and dispersed to their homes.[296]
The next day M. Bailly appeared before the Assembly, and, in terms of
dignity and manly sorrow, reported the triumph of the law. Both the
National Assembly and the municipality of Paris voted their cordial
approval of the conduct of Bailly and La Fayette. The Jacobin press,
however, gave utterance to the fiercest invectives. Bailly and La
Fayette were denounced as murderers, and every effort was made to
exasperate the passions of the populace.
Amid such scenes of agitation and violence the Assembly concluded
its task of forming a constitution. The important document, which
was but partially finished at the great celebration on the 14th of
July, 1790, was now completed. None were, however, fully satisfied
with the Constitution. The aristocratic party abhorred the democratic
spirit with which it was pervaded, and yet wished to make it still
more obnoxiously democratic, that monarchical Europe might be more
thoroughly exasperated. The Jacobins held it up to derision and
execration because it was not democratic enough. The moderate party,
represented by such men as La Fayette and Barnave, wished to invest
the king with more power, but dared not attempt any revision of the
Constitution, with the aristocrats and the Jacobins both ready to
combine against them.
Napoleon was at this time a young officer in the army, twenty-three
years of age. His brother Joseph was studying law in Italy. The whole
family had warmly espoused the popular cause. From the beginning
Napoleon was the ardent advocate of equal rights, and the determined
foe of mob violence. At this early period of the Revolution, he
expressed the views to which he adhered through the whole of his career.
There was about this time a large party given by M. Necker. All the
illustrious men and women of Paris were present. The youthful Napoleon,
then quite a boy in appearance, and almost a stranger in Paris, was
introduced to this brilliant assembly by his friend the Abbé Raynal.
The genius of Napoleon, and his commanding conversational eloquence,
soon drew around him quite a group.
"Who is that young man," inquired the proud Alfieri, "who has collected
such a group around him?"
"He is," replied the abbé, "a protégé of mine, and a young man of
extraordinary talent. He is very industrious, well read, and has made
remarkable attainments in history, mathematics, and all military
science."
The Bishop of Autun commended the soldiers for having refused to obey
their officers, who had ordered them, on a certain occasion, by a
discharge of musketry, to disperse a mob.
"Excuse me, my lord," said Napoleon, in tones of earnestness which
arrested general attention, "if I venture to interrupt you, but, as I
am an officer, I must claim the privilege of expressing my sentiments.
It is true that I am young, and it may appear presumptuous in me to
address so many distinguished men. But during the past three years
I have paid intense attention to our political troubles. I see with
sorrow the state of our country, and I will incur censure rather than
pass unnoticed principles which are not only unsound, but which are
subversive of all government.
"As much as any I desire to see all abuses, antiquated privileges,
and usurped rights annulled. Nay, as I am at the commencement of my
career, it will be my best policy, as well as my duty, to support the
progress of popular institutions, and to promote reform in every branch
of the public administration. But as, in the last twelve months, I have
witnessed repeated alarming popular disturbances, and have seen our
best men divided into factions which threaten to be irreconcilable, I
sincerely believe that now, _more than ever_, a strict discipline in
the army is absolutely necessary for the safety of our constitutional
government and for the maintenance of order.
"Nay, if our troops are not compelled unhesitatingly to obey the
commands of the executive, we shall be exposed to the blind fury of
democratic passions which will render France the most miserable country
on the globe. The ministry may be assured that, if the daily-increasing
arrogance of the Parisian mob is not repressed by a strong arm and
social order rightly maintained, we shall see not only this capital
but every other city in France thrown into a state of indescribable
anarchy, while the real friends of liberty, the enlightened patriots
now working for the best good of our country, will sink beneath a set
of demagogues who, with louder cries for freedom on their tongues, will
be in reality but a horde of savages, worse than the Neros of old."[297]
The whole future career of Napoleon was in consistency with the spirit
of these remarks. "I frankly declare," said Napoleon, subsequently,
"that if I were compelled to choose between the old monarchy and
Jacobin misrule, I should infinitely prefer the former."
On the 3d of September the Constitution was presented to the king for
his acceptance with imposing ceremonies.[298] At nine o'clock in the
evening a deputation left the chamber of the Assembly, and, escorted
by a numerous and brilliant guard of honor, entered the Chateau of
the Tuileries. The multitudes who thronged the way applauded loudly.
The king, surrounded by his ministers and other high officers of the
kingdom, received the deputation in his council-chamber. M. Thouret,
president of the commission, presented the Constitution to the king,
saying,
"Sire! the representatives of the nation come to present to your
majesty the constitutional act which consecrates the indefeasible
rights of the French people, which gives to the throne its true
dignity, and regenerates the government of the empire."
The king, with a countenance expressive of satisfaction, received the
document, and replied that he would examine it, and, after the shortest
possible delay, communicate his decision to the Assembly. On the 13th
he sent a message to the Assembly, which Barnave had assisted him in
drawing up, and which contained the following conciliatory and noble
sentiments:
"I have examined the Constitution. I accept it and will carry it into
execution. The will of the people is no longer doubtful to me, and
therefore I accept the Constitution. I freely renounce the co-operation
I had claimed in this work, and I declare that when I have renounced
it no other but myself has any right to claim it. Let the absent who
are restrained by the fear of persecutions return to their country
in safety. Let us consent to a mutual forgiveness of the past and
obliterate all accusations arising from the events of the Revolution
in a general reconciliation. I do not refer to those which have been
caused by an attachment to me. Can you see any guilt in them? I will
present myself to-morrow at noon to the National Assembly, and take
oath to the Constitution in the very place where it has been drawn up."
This frank and cordial assent was unanticipated. It created a burst of
extraordinary joy. La Fayette, in response to the suggestion of the
king, immediately proposed a general amnesty for all acts connected
with the Revolution. The motion was carried by acclaim. For a moment
all parties seemed again to be united, prisons were thrown open,
captives liberated, and shouts of fraternity and happiness resounded
through Paris.
The next day the king went to the Assembly and took his seat by the
side of the president. He was received by all the members standing, and
they remained standing while he addressed them. With the most earnest
expression of sincerity and satisfaction, the king said,
"I come to consecrate solemnly here the acceptance I have given to
the Constitutional Act. I swear to be faithful to the nation and the
law, and to employ all the powers delegated to me for maintaining the
Constitution and carrying its decrees into effect. May this great and
memorable epoch be that of the re-establishment of peace, and become
the gage of the happiness of the people and the prosperity of the
empire."
As the king withdrew the whole Assembly enthusiastically escorted him
to his palace. But it was a bitter trial for the once absolute monarch
to lay aside his unlimited power and become a constitutional king. The
monarch, though feeling humiliated, was still enabled to maintain his
aspect of smiles and composure until he reached the privacy of his own
apartment. He then threw himself into a chair, and, losing all control,
burst into tears.[299] A weeping king excites universal sympathy. The
heroic struggles of twenty millions of people to gain their liberties
also secure the sympathy and the admiration of every noble heart.
On the 18th of November the Constitution was proclaimed in the streets
of Paris. Every thing was done which art could devise to invest the
scene with splendor.
[Illustration: PROCLAMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION IN THE MARKET-PLACE.]
Paris was again in a delirium of joy. The bells rang, salvos of
artillery were fired, and the acclamations of hundreds of thousands,
blending with peals of music from martial bands, filled the air with a
confusion of all the sounds of exultation. The people were never weary
of calling the king, the queen, the children, to the windows of the
palace, and whenever they appeared they were greeted with outbursts of
love and joy.[300]
On the 18th there was another magnificent festival on the Field of
Mars. The Constitution was read to the people. It was accepted by them
with the simultaneous shout from three hundred thousand voices of
"_Vive la Nation! Vive le Roi!_" No discordant cry was heard. "After
the tempest, those who have been beaten by it, as well as those who
have not suffered, enjoy in common the serenity of the sky." In the
evening Paris and all France blazed with illuminations and resounded
with the shout of enfranchised millions. Balloons rose, from which
copies of the Constitution were scattered as snow-flakes upon the
multitude. The Elysian Fields, from the Arc de l'Etoile to the
Tuileries, was brilliant with garlands and stars and pyramids of flame.
Every tree blazed with quivering tongues of fire. Majestic orchestras
pealed forth the notes of national triumph, and a multitude which no
man could number filled that most magnificent avenue of Europe with
plays, dances, shouts, and songs of exultation.
La Fayette, on his well-known white charger, rode at the head of his
staff through the almost impenetrable throng, accompanied by the king,
the queen, and their children. Enthusiasm now reached its culminating
point. Hats were thrown into the air, and from the whole mighty mass,
as by electric sympathy, rose the cry "_Vive le Roi! Vive la Reine!
Vive le Dauphin!_"
The king and queen were overjoyed in view of the happiness of the
people, and of the love thus spontaneously and enthusiastically
manifested for the royal family. The queen was bewildered by so
marvelous a change. But four weeks before the royal family were
conducted as captives through that same avenue, surrounded by the same
countless throng, and not a voice bade them welcome. They could then
read in every eye the expression of hatred and defiance. The contrast
led the queen to exclaim, "They are no longer the same people." Even
her proud heart was touched, and she, for the first time, began to feel
some respect for popular rights. Returning to the palace, of her own
accord she stepped out upon the balcony, and presented her children to
the crowd who thronged the terrace. They received such greeting as can
only come from hearts glowing with sincerity and joy. These days of
rejoicing were terminated by an offering of thanksgiving to God, as the
sublime chant of the _Te Deum_ was sung in the cathedral of Nôtre Dame.
The Constituent Assembly, having now completed its task, prepared to
dissolve. As a conclusive reply to all who had accused it of ambitious
designs to perpetuate its powers, and as a magnanimous display of
patriotic disinterestedness, it decreed that none of its members should
be re-eligible to the next Legislature.
At three o'clock in the afternoon of the 30th of September, the king,
surrounded by his ministers, entered the Assembly. He was no longer the
hostage of the nation, but its recognized sovereign; the guard which
the law assigned him being now placed under his own command. Upon his
entrance the applause was so enthusiastic and prolonged that for some
time he was unable to commence speaking. He then said,
"Gentlemen, after the completion of the Constitution, you have resolved
on to-day for the termination of your labors. I will exercise all the
power confided to me in assuring to the Constitution the respect and
obedience which is its due. For you, gentlemen, who, during a long and
painful career, have evinced an indefatigable zeal in your labors,
there remains a last duty to fulfill, when you are scattered over the
face of the empire. It is to enlighten your fellow-citizens as to the
spirit of the laws you have made; to purify and unite opinions by the
example you will give to the love of order and submission to the laws.
Be, on your return to your homes, the interpreters of my sentiments
to your fellow-citizens. Tell them that the king will always be their
first and most faithful friend; that he desires to be loved by them,
and can only be happy with them and by them."
The king left the hall amid the loudest acclamations. They were
the last with which he was greeted. Thouret, the president of the
Assembly, as soon as the king had retired, said in a loud voice, "The
Constituent Assembly pronounces its mission accomplished, and that its
sittings now terminate." Thus closed the truly patriotic Assembly. It
had accomplished the greatest and the most glorious revolution ever
achieved in so short a time, and with so little violence. Repressing
alike the despotism of aristocracy and the lawlessness of the mob, it
established a constitution containing the essential elements of liberty
protected by law. Under this constitution France might have advanced
in prosperity. But the aristocrat and the Jacobin combined in its
overthrow. They were fatally successful in their efforts.
It is interesting to observe how differently the same events were
regarded by different minds. Bertrand de Moleville, a warm partisan of
the aristocracy, says,
"Thus terminated this guilty Assembly, whose vanity, ambition,
cupidity, ingratitude, ignorance, and audacity have overturned the most
ancient and the noblest monarchy of Europe, and rendered France the
theatre of every crime, of every calamity, and of the most horrible
catastrophe. Can these treacherous representatives ever justify
themselves in the eyes of the nation for having so unworthily abused
their confidence and their powers?"
On the other hand, the democratic historians, the "Two Friends
of Liberty," while regretting that the Constitution was not more
thoroughly democratic, say,
"The Constitution of 1791, with all its faults, forever deserves
the gratitude of the French people, because it has destroyed, never
to return, every trace of feudalism, imposts the most fatal to
agriculture, the privileges of particular persons, the usurpations
of the priesthood over the civil power, and the proud pretensions of
ancient corporations; because it has realized what philosophy for ages
has in vain wished, and what monarchs the most absolute have never
dared to undertake; and because it has established that uniformity
which no one could have ever hoped for in an empire formed by gradual
accretions from time to time, and with which, under a good government,
there is no prosperity which France may not realize."
But whatever may be the estimate which political partisans may place
upon the labors of the Assembly, no intelligent man will now deny that
the great majority of that body were true patriots, sincerely desiring
the welfare of their country. It will be admitted by all that they
abolished judicial torture, placed all men upon the basis of equality
in the eye of the law, annulled obnoxious privileges, introduced vast
reform into commercial jurisprudence, established liberty of worship
and of conscience, suppressed monastic vows, abolished the execrable
system of _lettres de cachet_, rendered personal liberty sacred,
introduced equality of taxation, and swept away those provincial
jealousies and that interior line of custom-houses which had for ages
seriously embarrassed the internal trade of the kingdom. All feudal
rights were abrogated, industry encouraged, and the citizens of the
kingdom were enrolled into a National Guard, for the preservation of
domestic peace and to resist aggression.
This most noble reform combined Europe assailed with all its marshaled
bayonets. The crime deluged the Continent in woe. After nearly a
quarter of a century of conflagration and carnage, French liberty was
trampled into the bloody mire of Waterloo, and the Old Régime was
reinstated.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 287: "Je connais vos moyens de defense; ils sont nul. Et
votre châtiment servira d'exemple aux autres peuples. Voilà ce que voit
vous dire un homme qui n'a pour vous et votre peuple qu'indignation et
horreur. Je connais les chemins; je guiderais les armées étrangères qui
vous attaqueront. Si l'on ôte un seul cheven de la tête de mon roi, il
ne restera pas pièrre sur pièrre à Paris. Adieu, messieurs."--_Histoire
de la Revolution Française, par Villaumé_, p. 160.]
[Footnote 288: The Assembly, while exonerating the king, condemned
Bouillé and three _Guards du Corps_ who accompanied the king in his
flight. It is impossible to refute the _logic_ with which Robespierre
opposed this decision. "The measures you propose," he said, "can not
but dishonor you. If you adopt them, I demand to declare myself the
advocate of _all_ the accused. I will be the defender of the three
_Guards du Corps_, the governess, even of Monsieur de Bouillé. By the
principles of your committee, _no crime has been committed_. Where
there is no crime _there can be no accomplices_. Gentlemen, to visit
the weaker culprit when the greater one escapes is cowardice. You must
condemn all or acquit all." To this no reply was made. The Assembly
voted.]
[Footnote 289: "The Republican party now began to appear. The struggle,
which lay at first between the Assembly and the court, then between
the Constitutionalists and the aristocrats, was now about to commence
between the Constitutionalists and the Republicans."--_Mignet_, p. 104.]
[Footnote 290: Villiaumé, p. 112; Desodoards, p. 42.]
[Footnote 291: Hist. de la Rev. Fr., par Villiaumé, p. 112. "The
Emperor of Austria, the King of Prussia, and the Count d'Artois met
at Pilnitz, where they made the famous declaration of the 27th of
August, which, far from improving the condition of the king, would have
imperiled him, had not the Assembly, in its wisdom, continued to follow
out its new designs, regardless at once of the clamors of the multitude
at home and of the foreign powers."--_Mignet_, p. 107.]
[Footnote 292: Histoire des Montagnards, par Alphonse Esquiros, p. 49.]
[Footnote 293: "It is easy to discern how many a hasty and tremulous
hand has traced the witness of its fury or ignorance upon this
document. Many were even unable to write. A circle of ink with a
cross in the centre marks their anonymous adhesion to the petition.
Some female names are to be seen, and numerous names of children
are discernible from the inaccuracy of their hand, guided by
another."--_History of the Girondists, Lamartine_, vol. i., p. 125.
This document is still preserved in the archives of the municipality
of Paris. On it may be read the names of Chaumette, Maillard, Hebert,
Hauriot, Santerre, and others who subsequently became most conspicuous
in deeds of cruelty and infamy.]
[Footnote 294: History of the Girondists, Lamartine, vol. i., p. 126.]
[Footnote 295: The Riot Act established by the Constitution was a
great improvement upon the Riot Act of England. It declared that
the municipal officers, if the public peace is endangered, shall
declare that military force must be produced; and the signal of this
declaration shall be a red flag upon the Hôtel de Ville, and then
carrying before them a red flag through the streets, wherever they,
with their armed force, go. On the appearance of the red flag, all
crowds refusing instantly to disperse shall be held criminal, and
shall be liable to be dispersed by force. In a crowd a _voice_ can not
always be heard, but a _red flag_ can always be seen. The crowd, though
thus dispersed, were authorized to depute six persons to state their
grievance to the government.]
[Footnote 296: There are many conflicting partisan accounts of this
event. The most careful and thorough investigation has led me to the
statement given above. When the Jacobins came into power they sent
Bailly to the guillotine for this noble deed. La Fayette would have
perished with him had he not been sheltered in the dungeons of Olmutz.
Bailly, in his narrative of this affair, says that there were but
twelve killed and about as many wounded.]
[Footnote 297: The narrative of this interview is given in full in
Chambers' Edinburgh Journal. It was communicated to that journal by
an Italian gentleman, a pupil of Condorcet, who was present on the
occasion.]
[Footnote 298: The Constitution was commenced the 17th of June, 1789,
and completed the 3d of September, 1791.]
[Footnote 299: Madame Campan's Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 157.]
[Footnote 300: All contemporary history unites in testifying to the
enthusiasm displayed on this occasion.]