FROM THE NIGHT OF THE 4TH OF AUGUST TO THE 5TH AND 6TH OF OCTOBER, 1789
The national assembly, composed of the élite of the nation, was full of
intelligence, pure intentions, and projects for the public good. It was
not, indeed, free from parties, or wholly unanimous; but the mass was not
dominated by any man or idea; and it was the mass which, upon a conviction
ever untrammelled and often entirely spontaneous, decided the
deliberations and bestowed popularity. The following were the divisions of
views and interests it contained within itself:--
The court had a party in the assembly, the privileged classes, who
remained for a long time silent, and took but a tardy share in the
debates. This party consisted of those who during the dispute as to the
orders had declared against union. The aristocratic classes,
notwithstanding their momentary agreement with the commons, had interests
altogether contrary to those of the national party; and, accordingly, the
nobility and higher clergy, who formed the Right of the assembly, were in
constant opposition to it, except on days of peculiar excitement. These
foes of the revolution, unable to prevent it by their sacrifices, or to
stop it by their adhesion, systematically contended against all its
reforms. Their leaders were two men who were not the first among them in
birth or rank, but who were superior to the rest in talents. Maury and
Cazalès represented, as it were, the one the clergy, and the other the
nobility.
These two orators of the privileged classes, according to the intentions
of their party, who put little faith in the duration of these changes,
rather protested than stood on the defensive; and in all their discussions
their aim was not to instruct the assembly, but to bring it into
disrepute. Each introduced into his part the particular turn of his mind
and character: Maury made long speeches, Cazalès lively sallies. The first
preserved at the tribune his habits as a preacher and academician; he
spoke on legislative subjects without understanding them, never seizing
the right view of the subject, nor even that most advantageous to his
party; he gave proofs of audacity, erudition, skill, a brilliant and well-
sustained facility, but never displayed solidity of judgment, firm
conviction, or real eloquence. The abbé Maury spoke as soldiers fight. No
one could contradict oftener or more pertinaciously than he, or more
flippantly substitute quotations and sophisms for reasoning, or rhetorical
phrases for real bursts of feeling. He possessed much talent, but wanted
the faculty which gives it life and truth. Cazalès was the opposite of
Maury: he had a just and ready mind; his eloquence was equally facile, but
more animated; there was candour in his outbursts, and he always gave the
best reasons. No rhetorician, he always took the true side of a question
that concerned his party, and left declamation to Maury. With the
clearness of his views, his ardent character, and the good use he made of
his talents, his only fault was that of his position; Maury, on the other
hand, added the errors of his mind to those which were inseparable from
the cause he espoused.
Necker and the ministry had also a party; but it was less numerous than
the other, on account of its moderation. France was then divided into the
privileged classes opposed to the revolution, and the people who
strenuously desired it. As yet there was no place for a mediating party
between them. Necker had declared himself in favour of the English
constitution, and those who from ambition or conviction were of his views,
rallied round him. Among these was Mounier, a man of strong mind and
inflexible spirit, who considered that system as the type of
representative governments; Lally-Tollendal, as decided in his views as
the former, and more persuasive; Clermont-Tonnerre, the friend and ally of
Mounier and Lally; in a word, the minority of the nobility, and some of
the bishops, who hoped to become members of the upper chamber, should
Necker's views be adopted.
The leaders of this party, afterwards called the monarchical party, wished
to affect a revolution by compromise, and to introduce into France a
representative government, ready formed, namely, that of England. At every
point, they besought the powerful to make a compromise with the weak.
Before the 14th of July they asked the court and privileged classes to
satisfy the commons; afterwards, they asked the commons to agree to an
arrangement with the court and the privileged classes. They thought that
each ought to preserve his influence in the state; that deposed parties
are discontented parties, and that a legal existence must be made for
them, or interminable struggles be expected on their part. But they did
not see how little their ideas were appropriate to a moment of exclusive
passions. The struggle was begun, the struggle destined to result in the
triumph of a system, and not in a compromise. It was a victory which had
made the three orders give place to a single assembly, and it was
difficult to break the unity of this assembly in order to arrive at a
government of two Chambers. The moderate party had not been able to obtain
this government from the court, nor were they to obtain it from the
nation: to the one it had appeared too popular; for the other, it was too
aristocratic.
The rest of the assembly consisted of the national party. As yet there
were not observed in it men who, like Robespierre, Pétion, Buzot, etc.,
wished to begin a second revolution when the first was accomplished. At
this period the most extreme of this party were Duport, Barnave, and
Lameth, who formed a triumvirate, whose opinions were prepared by Duport,
sustained by Barnave, and managed by Alexander Lameth. There was something
remarkable and announcing the spirit of equality of the times, in this
intimate union of an advocate belonging to the middle classes, of a
counsellor belonging to the parliamentary class, and a colonel belonging
to the court, renouncing the interests of their order to unite in views of
the public good and popular happiness. This party at first took a more
advanced position than that which the revolution had attained. The 14th of
July had been the triumph of the middle class; the constituent assembly
was its legislature, the national guard its armed force, the mayoralty its
popular power. Mirabeau, Lafayette, Bailly, relied on this class; one was
its tribune, the other its general, and the third its magistrate. Duport,
Barnave, and Lameth's party were of the principles and sustained the
interests of that period of the revolution; but this party, composed of
young men of ardent patriotism, who entered on public affairs with
superior qualities, fine talents, and elevated positions, and who joined
to the love of liberty the ambition of playing a leading part, placed
itself from the first rather in advance of the revolution of July the
14th. Its fulcrum within the assembly was the members of the extreme left
without, in the clubs, in the nation, in the party of the people, who had
co-operated on the 14th of July, and who were unwilling that the
bourgeoisie alone should derive advantage from the victory. By putting
itself at the head of those who had no leaders, and who being a little out
of the government aspired to enter it, it did not cease to belong to this
first period of the revolution; only it formed a kind of democratic
opposition, even in the middle class itself, only differing from its
leaders on a few unimportant points, and voting with them on most
questions. It was, among these popular men, rather a patriotic emulation
than a party dissension.
Duport, who was strong-minded, and who had acquired premature experience
of the management of political passions, in the struggles which parliament
had sustained against the ministry, and which he had chiefly directed,
knew well that a people reposes the moment it has gained its rights, and
that it begins to grow weak as soon as it reposes. To keep in vigour those
who governed in the assembly, in the mayoralty, in the militia; to prevent
public activity from slackening, and not to disband the people, whose aid
he might one day require, he conceived and executed the famous
confederation of the clubs. This institution, like everything that gives a
great impulse to a nation, caused a great deal of good, and a great deal
of harm. It impeded legal authority, when this of itself was sufficient;
but it also gave an immense energy to the revolution, when, attacked on
all sides, it could only save itself by the most violent efforts. For the
rest, the founders of this association had not calculated all its
consequences. They regarded it simply as a wheel destined to keep or put
in movement the public machine, without danger, when it tended to abate or
to cease its activity; they did not think they were working for the
advantage of the multitude. After the flight of Varennes, this party had
become too exacting and too formidable; they forsook it, and supported
themselves against it with the mass of the assembly and the middle class,
whose direction was left vacant by the death of Mirabeau. At this period,
it was important to them speedily to fix the constitutional revolution;
for to protract it would have been to bring on the republican revolution.
The mass of the assembly, we have just mentioned, abounded in just,
experienced, and even superior minds. Its leaders were two men, strangers
to the third estate, and adopted by it. Without the abbé Sieyès, the
constituent assembly would probably have had less unity in its operation,
and without Mirabeau, less energy in its conduct.
Sieyès was one of those men who create sects in an age of enthusiasm, and
who exercise the ascendancy of a powerful reason in an enlightened era.
Solitude and philosophical studies had matured him at an early age. His
views were new, strong, and extensive, but somewhat too systematic.
Society had especially been the subject of his examination; he had watched
its progress, investigated its springs. The nature of government appeared
to him less a question of right than a question of epoch. His vast
intellect ranged the society of our days in its divisions, relations,
powers, and movement. Sieyès, though of cold temperament, had the ardour
which the pursuit of truth inspires, and the passion which its discovery
gives; he was accordingly absolute in his views, disdaining those of
others, because he considered them incomplete, and because, in his
opinion, half truth was error. Contradiction irritated him; he was not
communicative. Desirous of making himself thoroughly known, he could not
do so with every one. His disciples imparted his systems to others, which
surrounded him with a sort of mystery, and rendered him the object of a
species of reverence. He had the authority which complete political
science procures, and the constitution might have emerged from his head
completely armed, like the Minerva of Jupiter, or the legislation of the
ancients, were it not that in our days every one sought to be engaged in
the task, or to criticise it. Yet, with the exception of some
modifications, his plans were generally adopted, and he had in the
committees more disciples than colleagues.
Mirabeau obtained in the tribune the same ascendancy as Sieyès in the
committees. He was a man who only waited the occasion to become great. At
Rome, in the best days of the republic, he would have been a Gracchus; in
its decline, a Catiline; under the Fronde, a cardinal de Retz; and in the
decrepitude of a monarchy, when such a being could only find scope for his
immense faculties in agitation, he became remarkable for the vehemence of
his passions, and for their punishment, a life passed in committing
excesses, and suffering for them. This prodigious activity required
employment; the revolution provided it. Accustomed to the struggle against
despotism, irritated by the contempt of a nobility who were inferior to
him, and who excluded him from their body; clever, daring, eloquent,
Mirabeau felt that the revolution would be his work, and his life. He
exactly corresponded to the chief wants of his time. His thought, his
voice, his action, were those of a tribune. In perilous circumstances, his
was the earnestness which carries away an assembly; in difficult
discussions, the unanswerable sally which at once puts an end to them;
with a word he prostrated ambition, silenced enmities, disconcerted
rivalries. This powerful being, perfectly at his ease in the midst of
agitation, now giving himself up to the impetuosity, now to the
familiarities of conscious strength, exercised a sort of sovereignty in
the assembly. He soon obtained immense popularity, which he retained to
the last; and he whom, at his first entrance into the legislature, every
eye shunned, was, at his death, received into the Pantheon, amidst the
tears of the assembly; and of all France. Had it not been for the
revolution, Mirabeau would have failed in realizing his destiny, for it is
not enough to be great: one must live at the fitting period.
The duke of Orleans, to whom a party has been given, had but little
influence in the assembly; he voted with the majority, not the majority
with him. The personal attachment of some of its members, his name, the
fears of the court, the popularity his opinions enjoyed, hopes rather than
conspiracies had increased his reputation as a factious character. He had
neither the qualities nor the defects of a conspirator; he may have aided
with his money and his name popular movements, which would have taken
place just the same without him, and which had another object than his
elevation. It is still a common error to attribute the greatest of
revolutions to some petty private manoeuvring, as if at such an epoch a
whole people could be used as the instrument of one man.
The assembly had acquired the entire power; the corporations depended on
it; the national guards obeyed it. It was divided into committees to
facilitate its operations, and execute them. The royal power, though
existing of right, was in a measure suspended, since it was not obeyed,
and the assembly had to supply its action by its own. Thus, independently
of committees entrusted with the preparation of its measures, it had
appointed others to exercise a useful superintendence without. A committee
of supply occupied itself with provisions, an important object in a year
of scarcity; a committee of inquiry corresponded with the corporations and
provinces; a committee of researches received informations against the
conspirators of the 14th of July. But finance and the constitution, which
the past crises had adjourned, were the special subjects of attention.
After having momentarily provided for the necessities of the treasury, the
assembly, although now become sovereign, consulted, by examining the
_cahiers_, the wishes of its constituents. It then proceeded to form its
institutions with a method, a liberal and extensive spirit of discussion,
which was to procure for France a constitution conformable with justice
and suited to its necessities. The United States of America, at the time
of its independence, had set forth in a declaration the rights of man, and
those of the citizen. This will ever be the first step. A people rising
from slavery feels the necessity of proclaiming its rights, even before it
forms its government. Those Frenchmen who had assisted at the American
revolution, and who co-operated in ours, proposed a similar declaration as
a preamble to our laws. This was agreeable to an assembly of legislators
and philosophers, restricted by no limits, since no institutions existed,
and directed by primitive and fundamental ideas of society, since it was
the pupil of the eighteenth century. Though this declaration only
contained general principles, and confined itself to setting forth in
maxims what the constitution was to put into laws, it was calculated to
elevate the mind, and impart to the citizens a consciousness of their
dignity and importance. At Lafayette's suggestion, the assembly had before
commenced this discussion; but the events at Paris, and the decrees of the
4th of August, had interrupted its labours; they were now resumed, and
concluded, by determining the principles which were to form the table of
the new law, and which were the assumption of right in the name of
humanity.
These generalities being adopted, the assembly turned its attention to the
organization of the legislative power. This was one of its most important
objects; it was to fix the nature of its functions, and establish its
relations with the king. In this discussion the assembly had only to
decide the future condition of the legislative power. Invested as it was
with constituent authority, it was raised above its own decisions, and no
intermediate power could suspend or prevent its mission. But what should
be the form of the deliberative body in future sessions? Should it remain
indivisible, or be divided into two chambers? If the latter form should be
adopted, what should be the nature of the second chamber? Should it be
made an aristocratic assembly, or a moderative senate? And, whatever the
deliberative body might be, was it to be permanent or periodical, and
should the king share the legislative power with it? Such were the
difficulties that agitated the assembly and Paris during the month of
September.
If we consider the position of the assembly and its ideas of sovereignty,
we shall easily understand the manner in which these questions were
decided. It regarded the king merely as the hereditary agent of the
nation, having neither the right to assemble its representatives nor that
of directing or suspending them. Accordingly, it refused to grant him the
initiative in making laws and dissolving the assembly. It considered that
the legislative body ought not to be dependent on the king. It moreover
feared that by granting the government too strong an influence over the
assembly, or by not keeping the latter always together, the prince might
profit by the intervals in which he would be left alone, to encroach on
the other powers, and perhaps even to destroy the new system. Therefore to
an authority in constant activity, they wished to oppose an always
existing assembly, and the permanence of the assembly was accordingly
declared. The debate respecting its indivisibility, or its division, was
very animated. Necker, Mounier, and Lally-Tollendal desired, in addition
to a representative chamber, a senate, to be composed of members to be
appointed by the king on the nomination of the people. They considered
this as the only means of moderating the power, and even of preventing the
tyranny of a single assembly. They had as partisans such members as
participated in their ideas, or who hoped to form part of the upper
chamber. The majority of the nobility did not wish for a house of peers,
but for an aristocratic assembly, whose members it should elect. They
could not agree; Mounier's party refusing to fall in with a project
calculated to revive the orders, and the aristocracy refusing to accept a
senate, which would confirm the ruin of the nobility. The greater portion
of the deputies of the clergy and of the commons were in favour of the
unity of the assembly. The popular party considered it illegal to appoint
legislators for life; it thought that the upper chamber would become the
instrument of the court and aristocracy, and would then be dangerous, or
become useless by uniting with the commons. Thus the nobility, from
dissatisfaction, and the national party, from a spirit of absolute
justice, alike rejected the upper chamber.
This determination of the assembly has been the object of many reproaches.
The partisans of the peerage have attributed all the evils of the
revolution to the absence of that order; as if it had been possible for
anybody whatsoever to arrest its progress. It was not the constitution
which gave it the character it has had, but events arising from party
struggles. What would the upper chamber have done between the court and
the nation? If in favour of the first, it would have been unable to guide
or save it; if in favour of the second, it would not have strengthened it;
in either case, its suppression would have infallibly ensued. In such
times, progress is rapid, and all that seeks to check it is superfluous.
In England, the house of lords, although docile, was suspended during the
crisis. These various systems have each their epoch; revolutions are
achieved by one chamber, and end with two.
The royal sanction gave rise to great debates in the assembly, and violent
clamours without. The question was as to the part of the king in the
making of laws; the deputies were nearly all agreed on one point. They
were determined, in admitting his right to sanction or refuse laws; but
some desired that this right should be unlimited, others that it should be
temporary. This, in reality, amounted to the same thing, for it was not
possible for the king to prolong his refusal indefinitely, and the veto,
though absolute, would only have been suspensive. But this faculty,
bestowed on a single man, of checking the will of the people, appeared
exorbitant, especially out of the assembly, where it was less understood.
Paris had not yet recovered from the agitation of the 14th of July; the
popular government was but beginning, and the city experienced all its
liberty and disorder. The assembly of electors, who in difficult
circumstances had taken the place of a provisional corporation, had just
been replaced. A hundred and eighty members nominated by the districts,
constituted themselves legislators and representatives of the city. While
they were engaged on a plan of municipal organization, each desired to
command; for in France the love of liberty is almost the love of power.
The committees acted apart from the mayor; the assembly of representatives
arose against the committees, and the districts against the assembly of
representatives. Each of the sixty districts attributed to itself the
legislative power, and gave the executive power to its committees; they
all considered the members of the general assembly as their subordinates,
and themselves as invested with the right of annulling their decrees. This
idea of the sovereignty of the principal over the delegate made rapid
progress. Those who had no share in authority, formed assemblies, and then
gave themselves up to discussion; soldiers debated at the Oratoire,
journeymen tailors at the Colonnade, hairdressers in the Champs Élysées,
servants at the Louvre; but the most animated debates took place in the
Palais Royal. There were inquired into the questions that occupied the
national assembly, and its discussions criticised. The dearth of
provisions also brought crowds together, and these mobs were not the least
dangerous.
Such was the state of Paris when the debate concerning the veto was begun.
The alarm which this right conferred on the king excited, was extreme. It
seemed as though the fate of liberty depended on the decision of this
question, and that the veto alone would bring back the ancient system. The
multitude, ignorant of the nature and limits of power, wished the
assembly, on which it relied, to do all, and the king, whom it mistrusted,
to do nothing. Every instrument left at the disposal of the court appeared
the means of a counter-revolution. The crowds at the Palais Royal grew
turbulent; threatening letters were sent to those members of the assembly,
who, like Mounier, had declared in favour of the absolute veto. They spoke
of dismissing them as faithless representatives, and of marching upon
Versailles. The Palais Royal sent a deputation to the assembly, and
required the commune to declare that the deputies were revocable, and to
make them at all times dependent on the electors. The commune remained
firm, rejected the demands of the Palais Royal, and took measures to
prevent the riotous assemblies. The national guard supported it; this body
was well disposed; Lafayette had acquired its confidence; it was becoming
organised, it wore a uniform, submitted to discipline after the example of
the French guard, and learned from its chief the love of order and respect
for the law. But the middle class that composed it had not yet taken
exclusive possession of the popular government. The multitude which was
enrolled on the 14th of July, was not as yet entirely disbanded. This
agitation from without rendered the debates upon the veto stormy; in this
way a very simple question acquired great importance, and the ministry,
perceiving how fatal the influence of an absolute decision might prove,
and seeing, also, that the _unlimited veto_ and the _suspensive veto_ were
one and the same thing, induced the king to be satisfied with the latter,
and give up the former. The assembly declared that the refusal of his
sanction could not be prolonged by the prince beyond two sessions; and
this decision satisfied every one.
The court took advantage of the agitation in Paris to realise other
projects. For some time it had influenced the king's mind. At first, he
had refused to sanction the decrees of the 4th of August, although they
were constitutive, and consequently he could not avoid promulgating them.
After accepting them, on the remonstrances of the assembly, he renewed the
same difficulties relative to the declaration of rights. The object of the
court was to represent Louis XVI. as oppressed by the assembly, and
constrained to submit to measures which he was unwilling to accept; it
endured its situation with impatience and strove to regain its former
authority. Flight was the only means, and it was requisite to legitimate
it; nothing could be done in the presence of the assembly, and in the
neighbourhood of Paris. Royal authority had fallen on the 23rd of June,
military power on the 14th of July; there was no alternative but civil
war. As it was difficult to persuade the king to this course, they waited
till the last moment to induce him to flee; his hesitation caused the
failure of the plan. It was proposed to retire to Metz, to Bouillé, in the
midst of his army; to call around the monarch the nobility, the troops who
continued faithful, the parliaments; to declare the assembly and Paris in
a state of rebellion; to invite them to obedience or to force them to it;
and if the ancient system could not be entirely re-established, at least
to confine themselves to the declaration of the 20th of June. On the other
hand, if the court had an interest in removing the king from Versailles,
that it might effect something, it was the interest of the partisans of
the revolution to bring him to Paris; the Orleans faction, if one existed,
had an interest in driving the king to flight, by intimidating him, in the
hope that the assembly would appoint its leader _lieutenant-general of the
kingdom_; and, lastly, the people, who were in want of bread, wished for
the king to reside at Paris, in the hope that his presence would diminish,
or put a stop to the dearth of provisions. All these causes existing, an
occasion was only wanting to bring about an insurrection; the court
furnished this occasion. On the pretext of protecting itself against the
movements in Paris, it summoned troops to Versailles, doubled the
household guards, and sent for the dragoons and the Flanders regiment. All
this preparation of troops gave rise to the liveliest fears; a report
spread of an anti-revolutionary measure, and the flight of the king, and
the dissolution of the assembly, were announced as at hand. Strange
uniforms, and yellow and black cockades, were to be seen at the
Luxembourg, the Palais Royal, and at the Champs Élysées; the foes of the
revolution displayed a degree of joy they had not manifested for some
time. The behaviour of the court confirmed these suspicions, and disclosed
the object of all these preparations.
The officers of the Flanders regiment, received with anxiety in the town
of Versailles, were fêted at the château, and even admitted to the queen's
card tables. Endeavours were made to secure their devotion, and a banquet
was given to them by the king's guards. The officers of the dragoons and
the chasseurs, who were at Versailles, those of the Swiss guards, of the
hundred Swiss, of the prevoté, and the staff of the national guard were
invited. The theatre in the château, which was reserved for the most
solemn fêtes of the court, and which, since the marriage of the second
brother of the king, had only been used for the emperor Joseph II., was
selected for the scene of the festival. The king's musicians were ordered
to attend this, the first fête which the guards had given. During the
banquet, toasts to the king and royal family were drunk with enthusiasm,
while the nation was omitted or rejected. At the second course, the
grenadiers of Flanders, the two bodies of Swiss, and the dragoons were
admitted to witness the spectacle, and share the sentiments which animated
the guests. The enthusiasm increased every moment. Suddenly the king was
announced; he entered attired in a hunting dress, the queen leaning on his
arm, and carrying the dauphin. Shouts of affection and devotion arose on
every side. The health of the royal family was drunk, with swords drawn;
and when Louis XVI. withdrew, the music played, "_O Richard! O mon roi!
l'univers t'abandonne_." The scene now assumed a very significant
character; the march of the Hullans, and the profusion of wine, deprived
the guests of all reserve. The charge was sounded; tottering guests
climbed the boxes, as if mounting to an assault; while cockades were
distributed; the tri-coloured cockade, it is said, was trampled on, and
the guests then spread through the galleries of the château, where the
ladies of the court loaded them with congratulations, and decorated them
with ribbons and cockades.
Such was this famous banquet of the 1st of October, which the court was
imprudent enough to repeat on the third. One cannot help lamenting its
fatal want of foresight; it could neither submit to nor change its
destiny. This assembling of the troops, so far from preventing aggression
in Paris, provoked it; the banquet did not make the devotion of the
soldiers any more sure, while it augmented the ill disposition of the
people. To protect itself there was no necessity for so much ardour, nor
for flight was there needful so much preparation; but the court never took
the measure calculated to make its designs succeed, or else it only half
took it, and, in order to decide, it always waited until there was no
longer any time.
The news of this banquet, and the appearance of black cockades, produced
the greatest sensation in Paris. From the 4th, suppressed rumours,
counter-revolutionary provocations, the dread of conspiracies, indignation
against the court, and increasing alarm at the dearth of provisions, all
announced an insurrection; the multitude already looked towards
Versailles. On the 5th, the insurrection broke out in a violent and
invincible manner; the entire want of flour was the signal. A young girl,
entering a guardhouse, seized a drum, and rushed through the streets
beating it, and crying, "Bread! Bread!" She was soon surrounded by a crowd
of women. This mob advanced towards the Hôtel de Ville, increasing as it
went. It forced the guard that stood at the door, and penetrated into the
interior, clamouring for bread and arms; it broke open doors, seized
weapons, sounded the tocsin, and marched towards Versailles. The people
soon rose _en masse_, uttering the same demand, till the cry, "To
Versailles!" rose on every side. The women started first, headed by
Maillard, one of the volunteers of the Bastille. The populace, the
national guard, and the French guards requested to follow them. 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 authorization
from the corporation, and gave the word for departure about seven in the
evening.
The excitement at Versailles was less impetuous, but quite as real; the
national guard and the assembly were anxious and irritated. The double
banquet of the household troops, the approbation the queen had expressed,
_J'ai été enchantée de la journée de Jeudi_--the king's refusal to accept
simply the Rights of Man, his concerted temporizings, and the want of
provisions, excited the alarm of the representatives of the people and
filled them with suspicion. Pétion, having denounced the banquets of the
guards, was summoned by a royalist deputy to explain his denunciation, and
make known the guilty parties. "Let it be expressly declared," exclaimed
Mirabeau, "that whosoever is not king is a subject and responsible, and I
will speedily furnish proofs." These words, which pointed to the queen,
compelled the Right to be silent. This hostile discussion was preceded and
succeeded by debates equally animated, concerning the refusal of the
sanction, and the scarcity of provisions in Paris. At length, just as a
deputation was despatched to the king, to require his pure and simple
acceptance of the Rights of Man, and to adjure him to facilitate with all
his power the supplying Paris with provisions, the arrival of the women,
headed by Maillard, was announced.
Their unexpected appearance, for they had intercepted all the couriers who
might have announced it, 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. But as these were accused of being the aggressors, the fury of the
multitude continued for some time; their quarters were broken into, two of
them were wounded, and another saved with difficulty.
During this tumult, the court was in consternation; the flight of the king
was suggested, and carriages prepared; a picket of the national guard saw
them at the gate of the Orangery, and, after closing the gate, compelled
them to go back; 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, reassured 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.
The insurrection of the 5th and 6th of October was an entirely popular
movement. We must not try to explain it by secret motives, nor attribute
it to concealed ambition; it was provoked by the imprudence of the court.
The banquet of the household troops, the reports of flight, the dread of
civil war, and the scarcity of provisions alone brought Paris upon
Versailles. If special instigators, which the most careful inquiries have
still left doubtful, contributed to produce this movement, they did not
change either its direction or its object. The result of this event was
the destruction of the ancient régime of the court; it deprived it of its
guard, it removed it from the royal residence at Versailles to the capital
of the revolution, and placed it under the surveillance of the people.