Marie Antoinette's Feelings on her Return.--She sees Hopes of
Improvement.--The 17th of July.--The Assembly inquire into the King's
Conduct on leaving Paris.--They resolve that there is no Reason for taking
Proceedings.--Excitement in Foreign Countries.--The Assembly proceeds to
complete the Constitution.--It declares all the Members Incapable of
Election to the New Assembly.--Letters of Marie Antoinette to the Emperor
and to Mercy.--The Declaration of Pilnitz.--The King accepts the
Constitution.--Insults offered to him at the Festival of the Champ de
Mars.--And to the Queen at the Theatre.--The First or Constituent Assembly
is dissolved.
It was eminently characteristic of Marie Antoinette that her very first
act, the morning after her return, was to write to De Fersen, to inform
him that she was safe and well in health; but though she had roused
herself for that effort of gratitude and courteous kindness, for some days
she seemed stupefied by grief and disappointment, and unable to speak or
think for a single moment of any thing but the narrow chance which had
crushed her hopes, and changed success, when it had seemed to be secured,
into ruin; and, if ever she could for a moment drive the feeling from her
mind, her enemies took care to force it back upon her every hour. Before
they reached the Tuileries, La Fayette had obtained from the Assembly
authority to place guards wherever he might think fit; and no jailer ever
took more rigorous precautions for the safe-keeping of the most desperate
criminals than this man of noble birth, but most ignoble heart[1], now
practiced toward his king and queen. Sentinels were placed along every
passage of the palace, and, that they might have their prisoners
constantly in sight, the door of every room was kept open day and night.
The queen was not allowed even to close her bed-chamber, and a soldier was
placed so as at all times to command a sight of the whole room; the only
moment that the door was permitted to be shut being a short period each
morning while she was dressing.
But after a time she rallied, and even began again to think the future not
wholly desperate. She always looked at the most promising side of affairs,
and the first shock of the anguish felt at Varennes had scarcely passed
away, when, with irrepressible sanguineness, she began to look around her
and search for some foundation on which to build fresh hopes. She even
thought that she had found it in the divisions which were becoming daily
more conspicuous in the Assembly itself. She had yet to learn that at such
times violence always overpowers moderation, and that the worse men are,
the more certain are they to obtain the upper hand.
The divisions among her enemies were indeed so furious as to justify at
one time the expectation that one party would destroy the other. The
Jacobins summoned a vast meeting, whose members they fixed beforehand at a
hundred thousand citizens, to meet on Sunday, the 17th of July, to
petition the Assembly to dethrone the king. On the appointed day, long
before the hour fixed for the meeting, a fierce riot took place, the
causes and even the circumstances of which have never been clearly
ascertained, but which soon became marked with scenes of extraordinary
violence. La Fayette, who tried to crush it in the bud, was pelted and
fired at. Bailly hung out the red flag, the token of martial law being
proclaimed, at the Hôtel de Ville, The mob pelted the National Guard. The
National Guard, too much exasperated and alarmed to obey La Fayette's
order to fire over the people's heads, at one volley shot down a hundred
of the rioters. The Jacobin leaders fled in alarm. Robespierre, who had
been one of the chief organizers of the tumult, being also one of the
basest of cowards, was the most terrified of all, and fled for shelter to
his admirer, of congenial spirit, Madame Roland, whose protection he
afterward repaid by sending her to the scaffold. The riot was quelled, and
the officers of the National Guard urged La Fayette to take advantage of
the opportunity, and lead them on to close by force the club of the
Jacobins, and another of equal ferocity, known as the Cordeliers[2],
lately founded by the fiercest of the Jacobins, Danton, and a butcher
named Legendre, who boasted of his ferocity as his only title to interfere
in the Government. If he had been honest in his professions of a desire to
save the monarchy, La Fayette would have adopted their advice, for it had
already become plain to every one that the existence of these clubs was
incompatible with the preservation of the kingly authority; but his
imbecile love of popularity made him fear to offend even such a body of
miscreants as the followers of Danton and Robespierre, and he professed to
believe that he had given them a sufficient lesson, and had so convinced
them of his power to crush them that they would be grateful to him for
sparing them, and learn to act with more moderation in future.
The decision of the Assembly also on the question, of the king's conduct
in leaving Paris was not without its encouragement to one of the queen's
disposition. She herself had been interrogated by commissioners appointed
by the Assembly to inquire into the circumstances connected with the
transaction, and her statement has been preserved. With her habitual
anxiety to conceal from others the king's incapacity and want of
resolution, she represented herself as acting wholly under his orders. "I
declare," said she, "that as the king desired to quit Paris with his
children, it would have been unnatural for me to allow any thing to
prevent me from accompanying him. During the last two years, I have
sufficiently proved, on several occasions, that I should never leave him;
and what in this instance determined me most was the assurance which I
felt that he would never wish to quit the kingdom. If he had had such a
desire, all my influence would have been exerted to dissuade him from such
a purpose[3]." And she proceeded further to exculpate all their
attendants. She declared that Madame de Tourzel, who had been ill for some
weeks, had never received her orders till the very day of the departure.
She knew not whither she was going, and had taken no luggage, so that the
queen herself had been forced to lend her some clothes. The three
Body-guards were equally ignorant, and the waiting-women. Though it was
true, she said, that the Count and Countess de Provence had gone to
Flanders, they had only taken that course to avoid interfering with the
relays which were required by the king, and had intended to rejoin him at
Montmédy. The king's own statement tallied with hers in every respect,
though it was naturally more explicit as to his motives and intentions;
and his innocence of purpose was so irresistibly demonstrated, that,
though Robespierre, in the most sanguinary speech which, he had ever yet
uttered, demanded that he should be brought to trial, not concealing his
desire that it should end in his condemnation; and though Pétion, and a
wretch named Buzot, a warm admirer and intimate friend of Madame Roland,
demanded his deposition and the proclamation of a republic, Barnave had no
difficulty in carrying the Assembly with him in opposition to their
violence; and it was finally resolved that nothing which had happened
furnished grounds for taking proceedings against any member of the royal
family. It was ordered at the same time that De Bouillé should be arrested
and impeached; but when he found that nothing could be effected for the
deliverance of the king, he had fled across the frontiers, and was safe
from their malice.
Meanwhile, the unconstitutional and unprecedented violence which had been
offered to the king naturally created the greatest excitement and
indignation in all foreign countries. A month before the late expedition,
the emperor had addressed a formal note to M. Montmorin, as Secretary of
State, declaring that he would regard any ill-treatment of his sister as
an injury done to himself;[4] and now[5] the chivalrous Gustavus of Sweden
proposed to address to the Assembly a joint letter of warning from all the
sovereigns of Europe, to declare that they would all make common cause
with the King of France if any attempt were made to offer him further
violence. But even the Austrian ministers regarded such a declaration as
more likely to aggravate than to diminish the dangers of those whom it was
designed to serve; and the queen herself preferred waiting for a time, to
see the result of the strife between the rival parties in the Assembly.
The Assembly was at this time fully occupied with the completion of the
Constitution, a work for which it had but little time left, since its own
duration had been fixed at two years, which would expire in September; and
also with the consideration of a question concerning the composition of
the next Assembly which had been lately brought forward, and on which the
queen was unfortunately misled into using her influence to procure a
decision which was undoubtedly, in its eventual consequences, as
disastrous to the king's fortunes as it was irreconcilable with common
sense. Robespierre brought forward a resolution that no members of the
existing Assembly should be eligible for a seat in that by which it was to
be replaced. It was in reality a resolution to exclude from the new
Assembly not only every one who had any parliamentary or legislative
experience, but also all the adherents or friends of the throne, and to
place the coming elections wholly in the power of the Jacobins.
Robespierre was willing to be excluded himself from a conviction, that,
with such an Assembly as would surely be returned, the Jacobin Club would
practically exercise all the power of the State. But the Constitutional
party, who saw that it was aimed at them, opposed it with great vigor; and
would probably have been able to defeat it if the Royalist members who
still retained their seats would have consented to join them. Unhappily
the queen took the opposite view. With far more acuteness, penetration,
and fertility of imagination than are usually given to women, or to men
either, she had still in some degree the defect common to her sex, of
being prone to confine her views to one side of a question; and to
overrule her reason by her feelings and prejudices. Though she
acknowledged the service which Barnave had rendered by defeating those who
had wished to bring the king and herself to trial, she, nevertheless,
still regarded the Constitutionalists in general with deep distrust as the
party which desired to lower, and had lowered, the authority and dignity
of the throne; and, viewing the whole Assembly with not unnatural
antipathy, she fancied that one composed wholly of new members could not
possibly be, more unfriendly to the king's person and government, and
might probably be far better disposed toward them. She easily brought the
king to adopt her views, and exerted the whole of her influence to secure
the passing of the decree, sending agents to canvass those deputies who
were opposed to it. With the Royalist members, the Extreme Right, her
voice was law, and, by the unnatural union of them and the Jacobins, the
resolution was carried.
It is the more singular that she should have been willing thus, as it
were, to proscribe the members of the present Assembly, because, in a very
remarkable letter which she wrote to her brother the emperor at the end of
July, she founds the hopes for the future, which she expresses with a
degree of sanguineness which can hardly fail to be thought strange when
the events of June are remembered, on the conduct of the Assembly itself.
The letter is too long to quote at full length, but a few extracts from it
will help us in our task of forming a proper estimate of her character,
from the unreserved exposition which it contains of her feelings, both
past and present, with her views and hopes for the future, even while she
keenly appreciates the difficulties of the king's position; and from the
unabated eagerness for the welfare of France which it displays in every
reflection and suggestion. That she still considers the imperial alliance
of great importance to the welfare of both nations will surprise no one.
The suspension of the royal authority which the Assembly had decreed on
the 26th of June had been removed on the decision that the king was not to
be proceeded against. Yet her first sentence shows that she was still
subjected to cruel and lawless tyranny, which even hindered her
correspondence with her own relations. A queen might have expected to be
able to write in security to another sovereign; a sister to a brother; but
La Fayette and those in authority regarded the rights of neither royalty
nor kindred.
"A friend, my dear brother, has undertaken to convey this letter to you,
for I myself have no means of giving you news of my health. I will not
enter into details of what preceded our departure. You have already known
all the reasons for it. During the events which befell us on our journey,
and in the situation in which we were immediately after our return to
Paris, I was profoundly distressed. After I recovered from the first shock
of the agitation which they produced, I set myself to work to reflect on
what I had seen; and I have endeavored to form a clear idea of what, in
the actual state of affairs, the king's interests are, and what the
conduct is which they prescribe to me. My ideas have been formed by a
combination of motives which I will proceed to explain to you.
"...The situation of affairs here has greatly changed since our journey.
The National Assembly was divided into a multitude of parties. Far from
order being re-established, every day seemed to diminish the power of the
law. The king, deprived of all authority, did not even see any possibility
of recovering it on the completion of the Constitution through the
influence of the Assembly, since that body itself was every day losing
more the respect of the people. In short, it was impossible to see any end
to disorder.
"To-day, circumstances present much more hope. The men who have the
greatest influence in affairs are united together, and have openly
declared for the preservation of the monarchy and the king, and for the
re-establishment of order. Since their union, the efforts of the seditious
have been defeated by a great superiority of strength. The Assembly has
acquired a consistency and an authority in every part of the kingdom,
which it seems disposed to use to establish the observance of the laws and
to put an end to the Revolution. At this moment the most moderate men, who
have never ceased to be opposed to revolutionary acts, are uniting,
because they see in union the only prospect of enjoying in safety what the
Revolution has left them, and of putting an end to the troubles of which
they dread the continuance. In short, every thing seems at this moment to
contribute to put an end to the agitations and commotions to which France
has been given over for the last two years. This termination of them,
however, natural and possible as it is, will not give the Government the
degree of force and authority which I regard as necessary; but it will
preserve us from greater misfortunes; it will place us in a situation of
greater tranquillity, and, when men's minds have recovered from their
present intoxication, perhaps they will see the usefulness of giving the
royal authority a greater range.
"This, in the course which matters are now taking, is what one can foresee
for the future, and I compare this result with what we could promise
ourselves from a line of conduct opposed to the wishes which the nation
displays. In that ease I see an absolute impossibility of obtaining any
thing except by the employment of a superior force; and on this last
supposition I will say nothing of the personal dangers which the king, my
son, and I myself may have to encounter. But what could be the
consequences but some enterprise, the issue of which is uncertain, and the
ultimate result of which, whatever it might be, presents disasters such as
one can not endure to contemplate? The army is in a bad state from want of
leaders and of subordination; but the kingdom is full of armed men, and
their imagination is so inflamed that it is impossible to foresee what
they might do, and the number of victims who might be sacrificed.... It is
impossible, when one sees what is going on here, to calculate what might
be the effects of their despair. I only see, in the events which might
arise out of such an attempt, but very doubtful prospects of success, and
the certainty of great miseries for every one....
"If the Revolution should be terminated in the manner of which I have
spoken, then it will be important that the king shall acquire, in a solid
manner, the confidence and consideration which alone can give a real
strength to the royal authority. No means are so well calculated to
procure them for him as the influence which we might have over one of your
resolutions[6] which would contribute to insure peace to France, and to
dispel disquietude, which are so much the more grievous for the whole
world, that they are among the principal obstacles to the re-establishment
of public tranquillity. The share which in that way we should have in the
termination of these troubles would win over to us all men of moderate
temper, while the others, especially the chiefs of the Revolution, would
attach themselves to us because of the sincere and efficacious inclination
which we should have shown to conduct matters to the end, which they all
wish for. Your own interests seem to me also to have a place in this
system of conduct. The National Assembly, before separating, will desire,
in concert with the king, to determine the alliances to which France is to
continue attached; and the power of Europe which shall be the first to
recognize the Constitution, after it has been accepted by the king, will
undoubtedly be the one with which the Assembly will be inclined to form
the closest alliance; and to these general views I might add the means
which I myself have to dispose men's minds to maintain this alliance--
means which will be extremely strengthened, if you share my view of the
present circumstances.
"I can not doubt that the chiefs of the Revolution, who have supported the
king in the last crisis, will be desirous to assure to him the
consideration and respect necessary to the exercise of his authority, and
that they will see in a close alliance of France with that power with
which he is connected by ties of blood, a means of combining his dignity
with the interests of the nation, and in that way of consolidating and
strengthening a Constitution of which they all agree that the majesty of
the king is one essential foundation.
"I do not know if, independently of all other reasons, the king will not
find in that feeling and in the inclinations of the nation, when it has
recovered its calmness, more deference, and a temper more favorable to
him, than he could expect from the majority of those Frenchmen who are at
present out of the kingdom.[7]"
And a letter which she wrote to Mercy a fortnight later is perhaps even
more worthy of attention, as supplying abundant proof, if proof were
needed, of the good-will and good faith which were the leading principles
of herself and the king in all their dealings with the Assembly. Since her
letter to her brother, matters had been proceeding rapidly. She had found
some means of treating more directly than on any previous occasion, not
only with Barnave, but with the far more unscrupulous A. Lameth; and the
Assembly had made such progress in completing the Constitution that it was
on the point of submitting it to the king for his acceptance. We have seen
in Marie Antoinette's letter to the emperor that she was convinced of the
necessity of Louis signifying that acceptance, and she adhered to that
view of the policy to be pursued, though the last touches given to the
Constitution had rendered many of its articles far more unreasonable than
she had anticipated, and though the great English statesman, Burke, whose
"Reflections" of the preceding year had naturally caused him to be
regarded as one of the ablest advisers on whom she could rely, forwarded
to her an earnest exhortation to induce her husband to reject it. He
implored her "to have nothing to do with traitors." Using the argument
which, to one so sensitive for her honor as Marie Antoinette, was well
calculated to exert an almost irresistible influence over her mind, he
declared that "her resolution at this most critical moment was to decide
whether her glory was to be maintained, and her distresses to cease, or
whether" (and he begged pardon for ever mentioning such an alternative)
"shame and affliction were to be her portion for the rest of her life;"
and he declared that "if the king should accept the Constitution, both
king and queen were ruined forever."
The great writer was, as in more than one other instance of his career,
too earnest in his conviction that principles were at stake in the course
which he recommended, to consider whether that course were safe for those
on whom he urged it, or even practicable. But Marie Antoinette, as one on
whose decision the very lives of her husband and her child might depend,
felt bound to consider, in the first place, how far her adoption of the
advice thus tendered might endanger both; and, accordingly, while
expressing to Mercy the full extent of her repugnance to the system of
government, if indeed it deserved the name of a system, which the new
Constitution had framed, she shows that her disapproval of it has in no
degree led her to change her mind on the practical question of the course
which the king should pursue. She justifies her decision to Mercy in a
most elaborate letter, in which the whole position is surveyed with
admirable good sense.[8]
"Our position is this: We are now on the point of having the Constitution
brought to us for acceptance. It is in itself so monstrous that it is
impossible that it should be long maintained. But, in the position in
which we are, can we risk refusing it? No; and I will prove it to you. I
am not speaking of the personal dangers which we should run. We have fully
shown by the journey which we undertook two months ago that we do not take
our own safety into account when the public welfare is at stake. But this
Constitution is so intrinsically bad that it can only acquire consistence
from any resistance which we might oppose to it. Our business, therefore,
is to take a middle course, which may save our honor, and may put us in
such a position that the people may come back to us when once their eyes
are opened, and they have become weary of the existing state of affairs. I
think also that it is necessary that, when they have presented the act to
the king, he should keep it by him a few days; for he is not supposed to
know what it is till it has been presented to him in all legal form; and
that then he should summon the Commissioners before him, not to make any
comments, not to demand any alterations, which perhaps might not be
admitted, and which would be interpreted as an admission that he approved
of the basis, but to declare that his opinions are not changed; that, in
his declaration of the 20th of June,[9] he proved the absolute
impossibility of governing under the new system, and that he is still of
the same mind; but that, for the sake of the tranquillity of his country,
he sacrifices himself; and that, as his people and the nation stake their
happiness on his accepting it, he does not hesitate to signify that
acceptance; and that the sight of their happiness will speedily make him
forget the cruel and bitter griefs which they have inflicted on him and on
his family.
"But if we take this line we must adhere to it; and, above all things, we
must avoid any step which can create distrust, and we must move on, so to
say, always with the law in our hand. I promise you that this is the best
way to give them an early disgust at the Constitution. The mischief is,
that for this we shall want an able and a trustworthy ministry.... Several
people urge us to reject the act, and the king's brothers press upon him
every day that it is indispensable to do so, and affirm that we shall be
supported. By whom?" And she proceeds to examine the situation and policy
of Spain, of the empire of England, and of Prussia, to prove that from
none of them is there any hope of active aid, while to trust to the
emigrants would be the worst expedient of all, because "we should then
fall into a new slavery worse than the first, since, while we should
appear to be in some degree indebted to them, we should not be able to
extricate ourselves from their toils. They already prove this when they
refuse to listen to the persons who are in our confidence, on the pretext
that they do not trust them, while they seek to force us to give ourselves
up to M. de Calonne, who, I fear, in all that he does is guided by nothing
but his own ambition, his private enmities, and his habitual levity,
thinking every thing he wishes not only possible, but already done.
"... One circumstance worthy of remark is that in all these discussions on
the Constitution the people take no interest, and concern themselves
solely about their own affairs, limiting their wishes to having a
Constitution and getting rid of the aristocrats... As to our acceptance of
the Constitution, it is impossible for any thinking being to avoid seeing
that we are not free. But it is essential that we should not awaken a
suspicion of our feelings in the monsters who surround us. Let me know
where the emperor's forces are and what is their present position. In
every case the foreign powers can alone save us. The army is lost. There
is no money. There is no bond, no curb which can restrain the populace,
which is everywhere armed. Even the chiefs of the Revolution, when they
wish to speak of order, are not listened to. This is the deplorable
condition in which we are placed. Add that we have not a single friend--
that every one betrays us, some out of hatred, others out of weakness or
ambition. In short, I actually am reduced to dread the day when they will
have the appearance of giving us a kind of freedom. At least, in the state
of nullity in which we are at present, no one can reproach us.... You know
the character of the person with whom I have to do.[10] At the last
moment, when one seems to have convinced him, an argument, a word, will
make him change his mind before any one suspects it. This is the reason
why many expedients can not be even attempted."
On the 21st she hears that the Charter will be presented at the end of the
week, and she repeats her fears that the conduct of the emigrants may
involve them in fresh troubles. "It is essential that the French, and most
especially the brothers of the king, should keep in the background, and
allow the foreign princes to act by themselves. But no entreaty, no
argument from us will induce them to do so. The emperor must insist upon
it. It is the only way in which he can serve us. You know yourself the
mischievous wrong-headedness and evil designs of the emigrants. The
cowards! after having abandoned us, they seek to make us expose ourselves
alone to danger, and serve nothing but their interests. I do not accuse
the king's brothers; I believe their hearts and their intentions to be
pure, but they are surrounded and guided by ambitious men who will ruin
them after having first ruined us." ... On the 26th she hears that it will
still be a week before the Constitution is brought to the king. "It is
impossible, considering our position, that the king should refuse to
accept it. You may depend upon this being true, since I say it. You know
my character sufficiently to be sure that it would incline me rather to a
noble and bold course. We have no resource but in the foreign powers. They
must come to our assistance; but it is the emperor who must put himself at
the head of every thing, and manage every thing.... I declare to you that
matters are now come to such a state that it would be better to be king of
a single province than of a kingdom so abandoned and disordered as this. I
shall endeavor, if I can, to send the emperor information on all these
matters. But, in the mean time, do you tell him all that you consider
necessary to prove to him that we have no longer any resource except in
him, and that our happiness, our existence, and that of my child depend on
him alone, and on his prudence and promptitude in action.[11]"
And, however she from time to time caught at momentary hopes arising from
other sources, the only one on which she placed any permanent reliance
were the affection and power of her brother; and that hope, in the course
of the winter, was cut from under her by his death.[12] Yet so correct was
her judgment and appreciation of sound political principles, or, perhaps
we might say, so keen was her sense of what was due to the independence
and dignity of France, in spite of its present disloyalty, that a report
that the emperor and Prussia had, by implication, claimed a right to
dictate to France in matters of her internal government drew from her a
warm remonstrance. As sovereign and brother she conceived that Leopold had
a right to interfere to insure the safety of his own sister and of a
brother sovereign; but she never desired him to interpose for any other
object. From her childhood, as we have seen more than once, she had
learned to regard the Prussian character and Prussian designs with
abhorrence. And in a letter to Mercy of the 12th of September, after
expressing an earnest hope that the emperor will not allow himself to be
guided by "the cunning of Calonne, and the detestable policy of Prussia,"
she adds, "It is said here that in the agreement signed at Pilnitz,[13]
the two powers engage never to permit the new French Constitution to be
established. There certainly are things which foreign powers have a right
to oppose, but, as to what concerns the internal laws of a country, every
nation has a right to adopt those which suit it. They would be wrong,
therefore, to intervene in such a matter; and all the world would see in
such an act a proof of the intrigues of the emigrants.[14]"
She proceeds to tell him that all is settled. The king had adopted the
line which she had marked out for him in her former letter. The
Constitution had been presented to him on the 3d of September. He had
taken a few days to consider it, not with the idea of proposing the
slightest alteration, but in order to avoid the appearance of acting under
compulsion; and, on the same day on which she wrote to Mercy, he was
drawing up a letter to the Assembly, to announce his intention of visiting
the Assembly to give it his royal assent in due form. But, though she
would not have had him act otherwise, she can not announce this apparent
termination of the contest without some natural expressions of grief and
indignation.
"At last the die is cast. All that we have now to do is to regulate the
future progress and conduct of affairs as circumstances may permit. I only
wish that others would regulate their conduct by mine. But even in our own
inner circle we have great difficulties and great conflicts. Pity me: I
assure you that it requires more courage to support the condition in which
I am placed than to encounter a pitched battle. And the more so that I do
not deceive myself, and that I see nothing but misery in the want of
energy shown by some, and the evil designs of others. My God! is it
possible that, endowed as I am with force of character, and feeling as I
do so thoroughly the blood which runs in my veins, I should yet be
destined to pass my days in such an age and with such men! But, for all
this, never believe that my courage is deserting me. Not for my own sake,
but for the sake of my child, I will support myself, and I will fulfill to
the end my long and painful career, I can no longer see what I am writing.
Farewell.[15]"
Tears, we may suppose, were blinding her eyes, in spite of all her
fortitude. There was no exaggeration in her declaration to the Empress
Catherine of Russia, with whom at this time she was in frequent
communication, that the "distrust which was shown by all around them was a
moral and continual death, a thousand times worse than that physical death
which was a release from all miseries.[16]" And in the same letter she
explains that to remove this distrust was one principal object which the
king and she had in view in all their measures. Yet, in spite of all his
concessions, the week was not to pass without fresh insults being offered
to the king, which shocked even his phlegmatic apathy. The letter which he
sent to the Assembly to announce his compliance with its wishes was indeed
received with acclamations which, if not sincere, were at least loud, and
apparently unanimous; and, as if in reply to it, La Fayette proposed and
carried a motion that the Assembly should pass an act of amnesty for all
political offenses; and a magnificent festival was appointed to be held in
the Champ de Mars on the following Sunday, in celebration of the joyful
event. But, after the first brief excitement had passed away, the Jacobin
faction recovered its ascendency, and contrived to make that very
festival, which was designed to express the gratitude of the nation, an
occasion of further humiliation to the unhappy Louis. Every arrangement
for the day was discussed in a spirit of the bitterest disloyalty. When
the question was raised, which in any other Assembly that ever met in the
world would have been thought needless, what attitude the members were to
preserve while the king was taking the prescribed oath to observe the
Constitution, a hundred voices shouted out that they should all keep their
seats, and that the king should swear, standing and bare-headed; and when
one deputy of high reputation, M. Malouet, remonstrated against such a
vote, arguing that so to treat the chief of the State would be a greater
insult to the nation than even to himself, a deputy from Brittany cried
out that M. Malouet and those who thought with him might receive Louis on
their knees, if they liked, but that the rest of the Assembly should be
seated.
And, in accordance with the feeling thus shown, every mark of respect was
studiously withheld from the unhappy monarch, and every care was taken to
show him that every deputy considered himself his equal. Two chairs
exactly similar were provided for him and for the president; and when,
after taking the oath and affixing his signature to the act, the king
resumed his seat, the president, who, having to reply to him in a short
address, had at first risen for that purpose, on seeing that Louis
retained his seat, sat down beside him, and finished his speech in that
position. Louis felt the affront. He contained himself while in the hall,
and while the members were conducting him back to the palace, which they
presently did amidst the music of military bands and the salutes of
artillery. But when his escort had left him, and he reached his own
apartments, his pride gave way. The queen with the dauphin had been
present in a box hastily fitted up for her, and had followed him back. He
felt for her more than for himself. Bursting into tears, he said, "It is
all over. You have seen my humiliation. Why did I ever bring you into
France for such degradation?" And the queen, while endeavoring to console
him, turned to Madame de Campan, who has recorded the scene, and dismissed
her from her attendance.[17] "Leave us," she said, "leave us to
ourselves." She could not bear that even that faithful servant should
remain to be a witness to the despair and prostration of her sovereign.
The very rejoicings were turned by the agents of the Jacobins into
occasions for further outrages. The whole city was illuminated, and the
sovereigns yielded to the entreaties of the popular leaders, to drive
through the streets and the Champs Élysées to see the illumination. The
populace, who believed the Revolution at an end and their freedom secured,
cheered them heartily as they passed; but at every cry of "Vive le roi," a
stentorian voice, close to the royal carriage, shouted out, "Not so: Vive
la nation!" and the queen, though it was plain that the ruffian had been
hired thus to outrage them, almost fainted with terror at his ferocity. A
few days afterward, the insults were renewed even more pointedly. The
royal family went in state to the opera, where, before their arrival, the
Jacobins had packed the pit with a gang of their own hirelings, whose
unpowdered hair made them conspicuous objects.[18] The opera was one of
Grétry's, "Les Événements Imprévus," in which one of the duets contains
the line "Ah, comme j'aime ma maïtresse." Madame Dugazon, a popular singer
of the day, as she uttered the words, bowed toward the royal box, and
instantly the whole pit was in a fury. "No mistress for us! no master!
Liberty!" The whole house was in an uproar. The king's partisans and
adherents replied with loyal cheers, "Vive le roi! Vive la reine!" The pit
roared out, "No master! no queen!" and the Jacobins even proceeded to acts
of violence toward all who refused to join in their cry. Blows were
struck, and it became necessary to send for a company of the Guard to
restore order.
Yet when, on the last day of the month, the king visited the Assembly[19]
to declare its dissolution, the president addressed him in terms of the
most loyal gratitude, affirming that by his acceptance of the
Constitution, he had earned the blessings of all future generations; and
when he quitted the hall, the populace escorted the royal carriage back to
the palace with vociferous cheers. Though, in the eyes of impartial
observers, this display of returning good-will was more than
counterbalanced when, as the members of the Assembly came out, some of the
Royalists and Constitutionalists were hooted, and some of the fiercest
Jacobins were greeted with still more enthusiastic acclamations.