_La Fayette resolves to enforce order--A Baker is murdered by
the Rabble--One of his Murderers executed--Decree imposing
Martial Law--Introduction of the Doctrines of Equality--They are
in their exaggerated sense inconsistent with Human Nature and
the progress of Society--The Assembly abolish titles of
Nobility, Armorial bearings, and phrases of Courtesy--Reasoning
on these Innovations--Disorder of Finance--Necker becomes
unpopular--Seizure of Church-Lands--Issue of Assignats--Necker
leaves France in unpopularity--New Religious Institution--Oath
imposed on the Clergy--Resisted by the greater part of the
Order--General view of the operations of the Constituent
Assembly--Enthusiasm of the People for their new
Privileges--Limited Privileges of the Crown--King is obliged to
dissemble--His Negotiations with Mirabeau--With Bouillé--Attack
on the Palace--Prevented by Fayette--Royalists expelled from the
Tuileries--Escape of Louis--He is captured at Varennes--Brought
back to Paris--Riot in the Champ de Mars--Louis accepts the
Constitution._
La Fayette followed up his victory over the Duke of Orleans by some bold
and successful attacks upon the revolutionary right of insurrection,
through which the people of late had taken on themselves the office of
judges at once and executioners. This had hitherto been thought one of
the sacred privileges of the Revolution; but, determined to set bounds
to its farther progress, La Fayette resolved to restore the dominion of
the law over the will of the rabble.
A large mob, in virtue of the approbation, the indulgence at least, with
which similar frolics had been hitherto treated, had seized upon and
hanged an unhappy baker, named Denis François, who fell under their
resentment as a public enemy, because he sold bread dear when he could
only purchase grain at an enormous price. They varied the usual detail
with some additional circumstances, causing many of his brethren in
trade to salute the bloody head, which they paraded according to their
wont; and finally, by pressing the dead lips to those of the widow, as
she lay fainting before them. This done, and in the full confidence of
impunity, they approached the Hall of the Assembly, in order to regale
the representatives of the people with the same edifying spectacle.[123]
[Sidenote: MARTIAL LAW PROCLAIMED.]
The baker being neither an aristocrat nor nobleman, the authorities
ventured upon punishing the murder, without fearing the charge of
_incivisme_. La Fayette, at the head of a detachment of the national
guards, attacked and dispersed the assassins, and the active citizen who
carried the head, was tried, condemned, and hanged, just as if there had
been no revolution in the kingdom. There was much surprise at this, as
there had been no such instance of severity since the day of the
Bastile.[124] This was not all:
La Fayette, who may now be considered as at the head of affairs, had the
influence and address to gain from the Assembly a decree, empowering the
magistracy, in case of any rising, to declare martial law by displaying
a red flag; after which signal, those who refused to disperse should be
dealt with as open rebels. This edict, much to the purpose of the
British Riot Act, did not pass without opposition, as it obviously
tended to give the bayonets of the national guard a decided ascendency
over the pikes and clubs of the rabble of the suburbs. The Jacobins,
meaning the followers of Marat, Robespierre, and Danton, and even the
Republicans, or Brissotines, had hitherto considered these occasional
insurrections and murders like affairs of posts in a campaign, in which
they themselves had enjoyed uniformly the advantage; but while La
Fayette was followed and obeyed by the national guard, men of substance,
and interested in maintaining order, it was clear that he had both the
power and will to stop in future these revolutionary excesses.
This important advantage in some degree balanced the power which the
Republican and Revolutionary party had acquired. These predominated, as
has been already said, in the Club of Jacobins, in which they reviewed
the debates of the Assembly, denouncing at their pleasure those who
opposed them; but they had besides a decided majority among the daily
attendants in the tribunes, who, regularly paid and supplied with food
and liquors, filled the Assembly with their clamours of applause or
disapprobation, according to the rules they had previously received. It
is true, the hired auditors gave their voices and applause to those who
paid them, but nevertheless they had party feelings of their own, which
often dictated unbought suffrages, in favour of those who used the most
exaggerated tone of revolutionary fury. They shouted with sincere and
voluntary zeal for such men as Marat, Robespierre, and Danton, who
yelled out for the most bloody measures of terror and proscription, and
proclaimed war against the nobles with the same voice with which they
flattered the lowest vices of the multitude.
By degrees the Revolution appeared to have assumed a different object
from that for which it was commenced. France had obtained Liberty, the
first, and certainly the worthiest, object which a nation can desire.
Each individual was declared as free as it was possible for him to be,
retaining the least respect to the social compact. It is true, the
Frenchman was not practically allowed the benefit of this freedom; for
though the Rights of Man permitted the citizen to go where he would,
yet, in practice, he was apt to find his way to the next prison unless
furnished with a municipal passport, or to be murdered by the way, if
accused of aristocracy. In like manner, his house was secure as a
castle, his property sacred as the ornaments of a temple;--excepting
against the Committee of Research, who might, by their arbitrary order,
break into the one and dilapidate the other at pleasure. Still, however,
the general principle of Liberty was established in the fullest
metaphysical extent, and it remained to place on as broad a footing the
sister principle of Equality.
To this the attention of the Assembly was now chiefly directed. In the
proper sense, equality of rights and equality of laws, a constitution
which extends like protection to the lowest and the highest, are
essential to the existence and to the enjoyment of freedom. But, to
erect a levelling system designed to place the whole mass of the people
on the same footing as to habits, manners, tastes, and sentiments, is a
gross and ridiculous contradiction of the necessary progress of society.
It is a fruitless attempt to wage war with the laws of Nature. She has
varied the face of the world with mountain and valley, lake and torrent,
forest and champaign, and she has formed the human body in all the
different shapes and complexions we behold, with all the various degrees
of physical force and weakness. She has avoided equality in all her
productions, as she was formerly said to have abhorred a vacuum; even in
those of her works which present the greatest apparent similarity, exact
equality does not exist; no one leaf of a tree is precisely similar to
another, and among the countless host of stars, each differs from the
other in glory. But, what are these physical varieties to the endless
change exhibited in the human character, with all its various passions,
powers, and prejudices, so artfully compounded in different proportions,
that it is probable there has not existed, since Adam's time to ours, an
exact resemblance between any two individuals? As if this were not
enough, there came to aid the diversity, the effects of climate, of
government, of education, and habits of life, all of which lead to
endless modifications of the individual. The inequalities arising from
the natural differences of talent and disposition are multiplied beyond
calculation, as society increases in civilisation.
The savage may, indeed, boast a rude species of equality in some
patriarchal tribes, but the wiliest and strongest, the best hunter, and
the bravest warrior, soon lords it over the rest, and becomes a king or
a chief. One portion of the nation, from happy talents or happy
circumstances, rises to the top, another sinks, like dregs, to the
bottom; a third portion occupies a mid place between them. As society
advances, the difference of ranks advances with it. And can it be
proposed seriously, that any other equality, than that of rights, can
exist between those who think and those who labour; those "whose talk is
of bullocks," and those whose time permits them to study the paths of
wisdom? Happy, indeed, is the country and constitution, where those
distinctions, which must necessarily exist in every society, are not
separated by insurmountable barriers, but where the most distinguished
rank is open to receive that precious supply of wisdom and talent, which
so frequently elevates individuals from the lowest to the highest
classes; and, so far as general equality can be attained, by each
individual having a fair right to raise himself to the situation which
he is qualified to occupy, by his talents, his merits, or his wealth,
the gates cannot be thrown open too widely. But the attempt of the
French legislators was precisely the reverse, and went to establish the
proposed equality of ranks, by depressing the upper classes into the
same order with those who occupy the middle of society, while they
essayed the yet more absurd attempt to crush down these last, by the
weight of legislative authority, into a level with the lowest
orders,--men whose education, if it has not corrupted their hearts, must
necessarily have blunted their feelings, and who, in a great city like
Paris, exchange the simplicity which makes them respectable under more
favourable circumstances, for the habitual indulgence of the coarsest
and grossest pleasures. Upon the whole, it must be admitted, that in
every state far advanced in the progress of civilisation, the inequality
of ranks is a natural and necessary attribute. Philosophy may comfort
those who regret this necessity, by the assurance that the portions of
individual happiness and misery are divided amongst high and low with a
very equal hand; and religion assures us, that there is a future state,
in which, with amended natures and improved faculties, the vain
distinctions of this world will no longer subsist. But any practical
attempt to remedy the inequality of rank in civilized society by
forcible measures, may indeed degrade the upper classes, but cannot
improve those beneath them. Laws may deprive the gentleman of his title,
the man of education of his books, or, to use the French illustration,
the _muscadin_ of his clothes; but this cannot make the clown a man of
breeding, or give learning to ignorance, or decent attire to the Sans
Culottes. Much will be lost to the grace, the information, and the
decency of society in general, but nothing can possibly be gained by any
individual. Nevertheless, it was in this absolutely impracticable
manner, that the exaggerated feelings of the French legislators, at this
period of total change, undertook to equalize the nation which they were
regenerating.
[Sidenote: ABOLITION OF TITLES OF HONOUR.]
With a view to this great experiment upon human society, the Assembly
abolished all titles of honour,[125] all armorial bearings, and even
the insignificant titles of Monsieur and Madame; which, meaning nothing
but phrases of common courtesy, yet, with other expressions of the same
kind, serve to soften the ordinary intercourse of human life, and
preserve that gentleness of manners which the French, by a happy name,
were wont to call "La petite morale." The first of these abrogations
affected the nobles in particular. In return for their liberal and
unlimited surrender of their essential powers and privileges, they were
now despoiled of their distinction and rank in society;--as if those who
had made prisoner and plundered a cavalier, should, last of all, have
snatched away in derision the plume from his hat. The aristocracy of
France, so long distinguished as the flower of European chivalry, were
now, so far as depended on the legislature, entirely abolished. The
voice of the nation had pronounced against them a general sentence of
degradation, which, according to the feelings of the order, could only
be the punishment of some foul and disgraceful crime; and the condition
of the ex-nobles might justly have been described as Bolingbroke paints
his own,
"Eating the bitter bread of banishment,
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Dispark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods,
From my own windows torn my household coat,
Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign,
Save men's opinions and my living blood,
To show the world I was a gentleman."[126]
It was a fatal error, that, in search of that equality which it is
impossible to attain, the Assembly should have torn down the ancient
institutions of chivalry. Viewing them philosophically, they are indeed
of little value; but where are the advantages beyond the means, first,
of mere subsistence, secondly, of information, which ought not to be
indifferent to true philosophers? And yet, where exists the true
philosopher, who has been able effectually to detach himself from the
common mode of thinking on such subjects? The estimation set upon birth
or rank, supposing its foundation illusory, has still the advantage of
counterbalancing that which is attracted by wealth only; the prejudice
has something generous and noble in it, is connected with historical
recollections and patriotic feelings, and if it sometimes gives rise to
extravagances, they are such as society can restrain and punish by the
mere effect of ridicule.[127] It is curious, even in the midst of the
Revolution, and amongst those who were its greatest favourers, what
difficulties were found to emancipate themselves from those ancient
prejudices which affected the difference of ranks.[128]
As for the proscription of the phraseology of civilized society, it had
an absurd appearance of affectation in the eyes of most people of
understanding; but, on some enthusiastic minds, it produced a worse
effect than that of mere disgust. Let a man place himself in the
attitude of fear or of rage, and he will in some measure feel the
passion arise in his mind which corresponds with the gesture he has
assumed. In like manner, those who affected the brutal manners, coarse
language, and slovenly dress of the lower orders, familiarized their
imaginations with the violent and savage thoughts and actions proper to
the class whose costume they had thus adopted. Above all, when this
sacrifice was made to the very taste and phraseology of that class, (the
last points in which one would think them deserving of imitation,) it
appeared to intimate the progressive strength of the revolutionary tide,
which, sweeping before it all distinctions, trivial as well as
important, seemed soon destined to overthrow the throne, now isolated
and wellnigh undefended. The next step was necessarily to fix the
executive government in the same body which enjoyed the powers of
legislation,--the surest of all roads to tyranny. But although the
doctrine of equality, thus understood, is absurd in theory and
impossible in practice, yet it will always find willing listeners when
preached to the lower classes, whose practical view of it results into
an agrarian law, or a general division of property.
There was one order yet remaining, however, which was to be
levelled,--the destruction of the Church was still to be accomplished;
and the Republican party proceeded in the work of demolition with
infinite address, by including the great object in a plan for restoring
finance, and providing for the expenses of the state, without imposing
further burdens on the people.
[Sidenote: DISORDER OF FINANCES.]
It must be remembered, that the States-General had been summoned to
restore the finances of the country. This was the cause of their
convocation. But although they had exercised almost every species of
power--had thrown down and rebuilt every constituted authority in the
kingdom, still the finances were as much embarrassed as ever, or much
more so; since most men in France judged the privilege of refusing to
pay taxes, the most unequivocal, and not the least pleasing part, of
their newly-acquired freedom.
Necker, so often received among the populace as a saviour of the
country, was here totally at a loss. The whole relative associations
which bind men together in the social contract, seemed to be rent
asunder; and where public credit is destroyed, a financier, however
able, resembles Prospero, after his wand is broken, and his book sunk in
the deep sea. Accordingly, Necker in vain importuned the Assembly, by
representing the pressure of the finances. They became wearied with his
remonstrances, and received them with manifest symptoms of coldness and
disrespect. What service, indeed, could the regulated advice, and
deep-calculated and combined schemes of a financier, have rendered to
men, who had already their resources in their eye, and were determined
that no idle scruple should prevent their pouncing upon them? Necker's
expostulations, addressed to their ears, were like a lecture upon thrift
and industry to Robin Hood and his merry-men, when they were setting
forth to rob the rich in the name of the poor.
The Assembly had determined, that, all prejudices apart, the property of
the Church should come under confiscation for the benefit of the
nation.[129] It was in vain that the Clergy exclaimed against these acts
of rapine and extortion--in vain that they stated themselves as an
existing part of the nation, and that as such they had coalesced with
the Assembly, under the implied ratification of their own rights--in
vain that they resounded in the hall the declaration solemnly adopted,
that property was inviolable, save upon full compensation. It was to as
little purpose that Mirabeau was reminded of his language, addressed to
the Emperor Joseph upon a similar occasion.--"Despise the monks," he had
said, "as much as you will, but do not rob them. Robbery is equally a
crime, whether perpetrated on the most profligate atheist, or the most
bigoted capuchin." The Clergy were told, with insulting gravity, that
the property belonging to a community was upon a different footing from
that belonging to individuals, because the state might dissolve the
community or body-corporate, and resume the property attached to it;
and, under this sophism, they assumed for the benefit of the public the
whole right of property belonging to the Church of France.[130]
[Sidenote: CONFISCATION OF CHURCH LANDS.]
As it was impossible to bring these immense subjects at once to sale,
the Assembly adopted a system of paper-money, called _Assignats_, which
were secured or hypothecated upon the church-lands. The fluctuation of
this paper, which was adopted against Necker's earnest cautions, created
a spirit of stock-jobbing and gambling, nearly resembling that which
distinguished the famous scheme of the Mississippi. Spelman would have
argued, that the taint of sacrilege attached to funds raised upon the
spoils of the Church;[131] yet it must be admitted that these supplies
enabled the National Assembly not only to avoid the gulf of general
bankruptcy, but to dispense with many territorial exactions which
pressed hard on the lower orders, and to give relief and breath to that
most useful portion of the community. These desirable results, however,
flowed from that divine alchymy which calls good out of evil, without
affording a justification to the perpetrators of the latter.
Shortly after the adoption of this plan, embraced against his opinion
and his remonstrances, Necker saw his services were no longer acceptable
to the Assembly, and that he could not be useful to the King. He
tendered his resignation, [Sept. 4,] which was received with cold
indifference by the Assembly; and even his safety was endangered on his
return to his native country, by the very people who had twice hailed
him as their deliverer. This accomplished statesman discovered too late,
that public opinion requires to be guided and directed towards the ends
of public good, which it will not reach by its own unassisted and
misdirected efforts; and that his own popularity had only been the
stalking-horse, through means of which, men less honest, and more subtle
than himself, had taken aim at their own objects.[132]
But the majority of the National Assembly had yet another and even a
more violent experiment to try upon the Gallican Church establishment.
It was one which touched the consciences of the French clergy in the
same degree as the former affected their fortunes, and was so much the
less justifiable, that it is difficult to suggest any motive except the
sweeping desire to introduce novelty in every department of the state,
and to have a constitutional clergy as they had a constitutional king,
which should have instigated them to such a measure.
When the Assembly had decreed the assumption of the church-lands, it
remained to be settled on what foundation religion was to be placed
within the kingdom. A motion was made for decreeing, that the Holy
Apostolical religion was that of France, and that its worship alone
should be permitted. A Carthusian monk, named Dom Gerle, made this
proposal, alarmed too late lest the popular party, to which he had so
long adhered, should now be about to innovate in the matters of the
Church, as they had already in those of the state. The debate was
conducted with decency for one day, but on the second the hall of the
Assembly was surrounded by a large and furious multitude, who insulted,
beat, and maltreated all who were known to favour the measure under
consideration. It was represented within the house, that the passing the
decree proposed would be the signal for a religious war; and Dom Gerle
withdrew his motion in terror and despair.
The success of this opposition showed, that almost any experiment on the
Church might be tried with effect, since the religion which it taught
seemed no longer to interest the national legislators. A scheme was
brought forward, in which the public worship (_culte publique_) as it
was affectedly termed, without any addition of reverence, (as if to give
it the aid of a mere code of formal enactments,) was provided for on the
narrowest and most economical plan. But this was not all. A civil
constitution was, by the same code, framed for the clergy, declaring
them totally independent of the See of Rome, and vesting the choice of
bishops in the departmental authorities. To this constitution each
priest and prelate was required to adhere by a solemn oath. A subsequent
decree of the Assembly declared forfeiture of his benefice against
whomsoever should hesitate; but the clergy of France showed in that
trying moment, that they knew how to choose betwixt sinning against
their conscience, and suffering wrong at the hands of man. Their
dependence on the See of Rome was a part of their creed, an article of
their faith, which they would not compromise. The noble attitude of
firmness and self-denial adopted by prelates and richly-beneficed
clergymen, who had hitherto been thought more governed by levities of
every kind than by regard to their profession, commanded for a time the
respect of the Assembly, silenced the blasphemies of the hired
assistants in the tribunes, and gave many to fear that, in depriving the
Church of its earthly power, the Assembly might but give them means to
extend their spiritual dominion more widely, and awake an interest in
their fate which slumbered during their prosperity. "Beware what you
do," said Montlosier. "You may expel the bishop from his episcopal
residence, but it will be only to open to him the cabins of the poor. If
you take from his hands the cross of gold, he will display a cross of
wood; and it was by a cross of wood that the world was saved."[133]
Summoned, one by one, to take the oath, or refuse it under the
consequences menaced, the Assembly, fearful of the effect of their
firmness, would scarce hear these sufferers speak a syllable, save Yes
or No. Their tumult on the occasion resembled the beating of drums to
drown the last words of a martyr. Few, indeed, were the priests who
accepted the constitutional oath. There were in the number only three
bishops. One had been a person of note--it was that Archbishop of
Sens--that very cardinal, whose maladministration of fifteen months had
led to this mighty change. Another of the three Constitutional prelates
was destined to be much more remarkable--it was the celebrated
Talleyrand, whose talents as a statesman have been so distinguished.
The National Assembly failed totally in their attempts to found a
national Church. The priests who took the oaths received neither
reverence nor affection, and were only treated with decency by such as
considered religion in the light of a useful political institution. They
were alike despised by the sincere Catholic, and the declared infidel.
All of real religious feeling or devotion that was left in France turned
towards their ancient pastors, and though the impulse was not strong
enough to counteract the revolutionary movement, it served, on many
occasions, to retard and embarrass it.[134] The experiment which had
thus signally miscarried, was indeed as impolitic as it was unnecessary.
It can only be imputed, on the one hand, to the fanaticism of the modern
philosophers,[135] who expected, by this indirect course, to have
degraded the Christian religion; and, on the other, to the preconcerted
determination of the Revolutionists, that no consideration should
interfere with the plan of new-modelling the nation through all its
institutions, as well of Church as of State.
Victorious at once over altar and throne, mitre and coronet, King,
Nobles, and Clergy, the National Assembly seemed, in fact, to possess,
and to exert, that omnipotence, which has been imputed to the British
Parliament. Never had any legislature made such extensive and sweeping
changes, and never were such changes so easily accomplished. The nation
was altered in all its relations; its flag and its emblems were
changed--every thing of a public character was destroyed and replaced,
down to the very title of the sovereign, who, no longer termed King of
France and Navarre, was now called King of the French. The names and
divisions of the provinces, which had existed for many years, were at
once obliterated, and were supplied by a geographical partition of the
territory into eighty-three departments, subdivided into six hundred
districts, and these again portioned out into forty-eight thousand
communities or municipalities. By thus recasting, as it were, the whole
geographical relations of the separate territories of which France
consisted, the Abbé Siêyes designed to obliterate former recollections
and distinctions, and to bring every thing down to the general level of
liberty and equality. But it had an effect beyond what was proposed.
While the provinces existed they had their separate capitals, their
separate privileges; and those capitals, though in a subordinate rank,
being yet the seats of provincial parliaments, had a separate
consequence, inferior to, but yet distinct from, that of Paris. But when
France became one single province, the importance of its sole capital,
Paris, was increased to a most formidable degree; and during the whole
Revolution, and through all its changes, whatever party held the
metropolis was sure speedily to acquire the supreme power through the
whole departments; and woe to those who made the fruitless attempt to
set the sense or feelings of the nation in opposition to those of the
capital! Republican or royalist was equally sure to perish in the rash
attempt.
[Sidenote: TRIAL BY JURY.]
The Parliaments of France, long the strongholds of liberty, now perished
unnoticed, as men pull down old houses to clear the ground for modern
edifices. The sale of offices of justice was formally abolished; the
power of nominating the judges was taken from the crown; the trial by
jury, with inquests of accusation and conviction, corresponding to the
grand and petty juries of England, were sanctioned and established. In
thus clearing the channels of public justice, dreadfully clogged as they
had become during the decay of the monarchy, the National Assembly
rendered the greatest possible services to France, the good effects of
which will long be felt. Other alterations were of a more doubtful
character. There might be immediate policy, but there was certainly much
harshness, in wresting from the crown the power of granting pardons. If
this was for fear lest grace should be extended to those condemned for
the new crime of leeze-nation, or treason against the Constitution, the
legislators might have remembered how seldom the King dares to exercise
this right of mercy in favour of an unpopular criminal. It requires no
small courage to come betwixt the dragon and his wrath, the people and
their victim. Charles I. dared not save Strafford.
The National Assembly also recognised the freedom of the press; and, in
doing so, conferred on the nation a gift fraught with much good and some
evil, capable of stimulating the worst passions, and circulating the
most atrocious calumnies, and occasioning frequently the most enormous
deeds of cruelty and injustice; but ever bearing along with it the means
of curing the very evils caused by its abuses, and of transmitting to
futurity the sentiments of the good and the wise, so invaluable when the
passions are silenced, and the calm slow voice of reason and reflection
comes to obtain a hearing. The press stimulated massacres and
proscriptions during the frightful period which we are approaching; but
the press has also held up to horror the memory of the perpetrators, and
exposed the artifices by which the actors were instigated. It is a rock
on which a vessel may be indeed, and is often wrecked; but that same
rock affords the foundation of the brightest and noblest beacon.
We might add to the weight of benefits which France unquestionably owes
to the Constituent Assembly, that they restored liberty of conscience by
establishing universal toleration. But against this benefit must be set
the violent imposition of the constitutional oath upon the Catholic
clergy, which led afterwards to such horrible massacres of innocent and
reverend victims, murdered in defiance of those rules of toleration,
which, rather in scorn of religion of any kind than regard to men's
consciences, the Assembly had previously adopted.
Faithful to their plan of forming not a popular monarchy, but a species
of royal republic, and stimulated by the real Republicans, whose party
was daily gaining ground among their ranks, as well as by the howls and
threats of those violent and outrageous demagogues, who, from the seats
they had adopted in the Assembly, were now known by the name of the
"Mountain,"[136] the framers of the Constitution had rendered it
democratical in every point, and abridged the royal authority, till its
powers became so dim and obscure as to merit Burke's happy illustration,
when he exclaimed, speaking of the new-modelled French government,--
"----What _seem'd_ its head,
The _likeness_ of a kingly crown had on."
The crown was deprived of all appointments to civil offices, which were
filled up by popular elections, the Constitutionalists being, in this
respect, faithful to their own principles, which made the will of the
people the source of all power. Never was such an immense patronage
vested in the body of any nation at large, and the arrangement was
politic in the immediate sense, as well as in conformity with the
principles of those who adopted it; for it attached to the new
Constitution the mass of the people, who felt themselves elevated from
villanage into the exercise of sovereign power. Each member of the
elective assembly of a municipality, through whose collective votes
bishops, administrators, judges, and other official persons received
their appointments, felt for the moment, the importance which his
privilege bestowed, and recognised in his own person, with corresponding
self-complacency, a fraction, however small, of the immense community,
now governed by those whom they themselves elected into office. The
charm of power is great at all times, but exquisite to intoxication to
those to whom it is a novelty.
Called to the execution of these high duties, which hitherto they had
never dreamed of, the people at large became enamoured of their own
privileges, carried them into every department of society, and were
legislators and debaters, in season and out of season. The exercise even
of the extensive privilege committed to them, seemed too limited to
these active citizens. The Revolution appeared to have turned the heads
of the whole lower classes, and those who had hitherto thought least of
political rights, were now seized with the fury of deliberating,
debating, and legislating, in all possible times and places. The
soldiers on guard debated at the Oratoire--the journeymen tailors held a
popular assembly at the Colonnade--the peruke-makers met at the
Champs-Elysées. In spite of the opposition of the national guard, three
thousand shoemakers deliberated on the price of shoes in the Place Louis
Quinze; every house of call was converted into the canvassing hall of a
political body; and France for a time presented the singular picture of
a country, where every one was so much involved in public business, that
he had little leisure to attend to his own.
There was, besides, a general disposition to assume and practise the
military profession; for the right of insurrection having been declared
sacred, each citizen was to be prepared to discharge effectually so holy
a duty. The citizens procured muskets to defend their property--the
rabble obtained pikes to invade that of others--the people of every
class every where possessed themselves of arms, and the most peaceful
burgesses were desirous of the honours of the epaulet. The children,
with mimicry proper to their age, formed battalions on the streets, and
the spirit in which they were formed was intimated by the heads of cats
borne upon pikes in front of the juvenile revolutionists.[137]
[Sidenote: FEVER OF LEGISLATION.]
In the departments, the fever of legislation was the same. Each district
had its permanent committee, its committee of police, its military
committee, civil committee, and committee of subsistence. Each committee
had its president, its vice-president, and its secretaries. Each
district was desirous of exercising legislative authority, each
committee of usurping the executive power.[138] Amid these subordinate
conclaves, every theme of eulogy and enthusiasm referred to the
Revolution which had made way for the power they enjoyed, every subject
of epidemic alarm to the most distant return towards the ancient system
which had left the people in insignificance. Rumour found a ready
audience for every one of her thousand tongues; Discord a prompt hand,
in which she might place each of her thousand snakes.
The Affiliation, as it was called, or close correspondence of the
Jacobin Clubs in all their ramifications, tended to influence this
political fever, and to direct its fury against the last remains of
royalty. Exaggerated and unfounded reports of counter-revolutionary
plots and aristocratical conspiracies, not a little increased by the
rash conversation and impotent efforts of the nobility in some
districts, were circulated with the utmost care; and the falsehood,
which had been confuted at Paris, received new currency in the
departments; as that which was of departmental growth was again
circulated with eagerness in the metropolis. Thus, the minds of the
people were perpetually kept in a state of excitation, which is not
without its pleasures. They are of a nature peculiarly incompatible with
soundness in judgment and moderation in action, but favourable, in the
same degree, to audacity of thought, and determination in execution.
[Sidenote: CROWN PRIVILEGES.]
The royal prerogative of the King, so closely watched, was in appearance
formidable enough to be the object of jealousy and suspicion, but in
reality a mere pageant which possessed no means either of attack or
resistance. The King was said to be the organ of the executive power,
yet he had named but a small proportion of the officers in the army and
navy, and those who received their appointments from a source so
obnoxious, possessed little credit amongst those whom they commanded. He
was the nominal head of six ministers, who were perpetually liable to be
questioned by the Assembly, in which they might be called to defend
themselves as criminals, but had no seat or vote to enable them to
mingle in its debates. This was, perhaps, one of the greatest errors of
the constitution; for the relation which the ministers bore to the
legislative body, was of such a limited and dependent nature, as
excluded all ideas of confidence and cordiality. The King's person was
said to be inviolable, but the frowning brows of a large proportion of
his subjects, their public exclamations, and the pamphlets circulated
against him, intimated very different doctrine. He might propose to the
Assembly the question of peace or war, but it remained with them to
decide upon it. Lastly, the King had the much-grudged privilege of
putting a veto on any decree of the legislative body, which was to have
the effect of suspending the passing of the law until the proposition
had been renewed in two successive Assemblies; after which the royal
sanction was held as granted. This mode of arresting the progress of any
favourite law was likely to be as dangerous to the sovereign in its
exercise, as the attempt to stop a carriage by catching hold of the
wheel. In fact, whenever the King attempted to use this sole relic of
monarchical power, he risked his life, and it was by doing so that he at
length forfeited it. Among these mutilated features of sovereignty, it
is scarcely worth while to mention, that the King's effigy was still
struck upon the public coin, and his name prefixed to public edicts.
Small as was the share of public power which the new Constitution of
France afforded to the crown, Louis, in outward semblance at least,
appeared satisfied. He made it a rule to adopt the advice of the
Assembly on all occasions, and to sanction every decree which was
presented to him. He accepted even that which totally changed the
constitution of the Gallican Church. He considered himself, doubtless,
as under forcible restraint, ever since he had been dragged in triumph
from Versailles to Paris, and therefore complied with what was proposed
to him, under the tacit protest that his acquiescence was dictated by
force and fear. His palace was guarded by eight hundred men, with two
pieces of cannon; and although this display of force was doubtless
intended by La Fayette to assure Louis's personal safety, yet it was no
less certain that it was designed also to prevent his escape from the
metropolis. The King had, therefore, good cause to conceive himself
possessed of the melancholy privilege of a prisoner, who cannot incur
any legal obligation by acts which do not flow from free-will, and
therefore finds a resource against oppression in the incapacities which
attend it. It was, however, carrying this privilege to the verge of
dissimulation, nay, beyond it, when the King went, [Feb. 4,] apparently
freely and voluntarily, down to the National Assembly, and, in a
dignified and touching speech, (could it have been thought a sincere
one,) accepted the Constitution, made common cause with the regenerated
nation, and declared himself the head of the Revolution.[139]
Constrained as he was by circumstances, anxious for his own safety, and
that of his family, the conduct of Louis must not be too severely
criticised; but this step was unkingly as well as impolitic, and the
unfortunate monarch gained nothing by abasing himself to the deceit
which he practised at the urgency of his ministers, excepting the
degradation attending a deception by which none are deceived. No one,
when the heat of the first enthusiasm was over, gave the King credit for
sincerity in his acceptance of the Constitution: the Royalists were
revolted, and the Revolutionists could only regard the speech and
accession as the acts of royal hypocrisy. Louis was openly spoken of as
a prisoner; and the public voice, in a thousand different forms,
announced that his life would be the penalty of any attempt to his
deliverance.
[Sidenote: LOUIS'S NEGOTIATIONS.]
Meanwhile, the King endeavoured to work out his escape from Paris and
the Revolution at once, by the means of two separate agents in whom
alone he confided.
The first was no other than Mirabeau--that very Mirabeau who had
contributed so much to the Revolution, but who, an aristocrat at heart,
and won over to the royal party by high promises of wealth and
advancement, at length laboured seriously to undo his own work.[140] His
plan was, to use the Assembly itself, in which his talents, eloquence,
and audacity, gave him so much influence, as the means of
re-establishing the royal authority. He proposed, as the final measure,
that the King should retire from Paris to Compiegne, then under the
government of the Marquis de Bouillé, and he conceived his own influence
in the Assembly to be such, that he could have drawn thither, upon some
reasonable terms of accommodation, a great majority of the members. It
is certain he had the highest ascendency which any individual orator
exercised over that body, and was the only one who dared to retort
threats and defiance to the formidable Jacobins. "I have resisted
military and ministerial despotism," said he, when opposing a proposed
law against the emigrants; "can it be supposed I will yield to that of a
club?"--"By what right?" exclaimed Goupil, "does Mirabeau act as a
dictator in the Assembly?"--"Goupil," replied Mirabeau, "is as much
mistaken when he calls me a dictator, as formerly when he termed me a
Cataline."--The indignant roar of the Jacobins bellowing from their
boasted mountain, in vain endeavoured to interrupt him.--"Silence these
thirty voices," said Mirabeau, at the full pitch of his thundering
voice; and the volcano was silent at his bidding.[141] Yet, possessed as
he was of this mighty power, Mirabeau did not, perhaps, reflect how much
less it would have availed him on the royal side, than when he sailed
with all the wind and tide which the spirit of a great and general
revolution could lend him. He was a man, too, as remarkable for his
profligacy as his wonderful talents, and the chance which the King must
have risked in embarking with him, was like that of the prince in the
tale, who escaped from a desert island by embarking on board a skiff
drifting among dangerous eddies, and rowed by a figure half human and
half tiger.[142] The experiment was prevented by the sudden and violent
illness and death of Mirabeau, who fell a victim to his
debaucheries.[143] His death [April 2, 1791] was greatly lamented,
though it is probable that, had the Apostle of the Revolution lived much
longer, he would either have averted its progress, or his dissevered
limbs would have ornamented the pikes of those multitudes, who, as it
was, followed him to the grave with weapons trailed, and howling and
lamentation.[144]
The King's other confidant was the Marquis de Bouillé, a person
entirely different from Mirabeau. He was a French soldier of the old
stamp, a Royalist by birth and disposition; had gained considerable fame
during the American war, and at the time of the Revolution was governor
of Metz and Alsace. Bouillé was endowed with a rare force of character,
and proved able without having recourse to disguise of any kind, to keep
the garrison of Metz in tolerable discipline during the general
dissolution of the army. The state of military insubordination was so
great, that La Fayette, and his party in the Assembly, not only
hesitated to dismiss a general who was feared and obeyed by the
regiments under his command, but, Royalist as he was, they found
themselves obliged to employ the Marquis de Bouillé and his troops in
subduing the formidable revolt of three regiments quartered at Nancy,
which he accomplished with complete success, and such slaughter among
the insurgents, as was likely to recommend subordination in future. The
Republican party of course gave this act of authority the name of a
massacre of the people, and even the Assembly at large, though Bouillé
acted in consequence of their authority, saw with anxiety the increased
importance of an avowed Royalist. La Fayette, who was Bouillé's
relation, spared no pains to gain him to the Constitutional side, while
Bouillé avowed publicly that he only retained his command in obedience
to the King, and in the hope of serving him.[145]
With this general, who had as yet preserved an authority that was
possessed by no other Royalist in France, the King entered into a close
though secret correspondence in cipher, which turned chiefly on the best
mode of facilitating the escape of the royal family from Paris, where
late incidents had rendered his abode doubly odious, and doubly
dangerous.
La Fayette's strength consisted in his popularity with the middle
classes of the Parisians, who, in the character of national guards,
looked up to him as their commandant, and in general obeyed his orders
in dispersing those tumultuous assemblies of the lower orders, which
threatened danger to persons and property. But La Fayette, though fixed
in his principle to preserve monarchy as a part of the constitution,
seems to have been always on cold and distrustful terms with the monarch
personally. He was perpetually trying his own feelings, and those whom
he influenced, by the thermometer, and became alarmed if his own loyalty
or theirs arose above the most tepid degree.
Two marked incidents served to show that the civic guard were even less
warm than their commandant in zeal for the royal person.
[Sidenote: PROJECTED ATTACK ON VINCENNES.]
The national guard, headed by La Fayette, together with the edict
respecting martial law, had, as we have observed, greatly contributed
to the restoration of order in Paris, by checking, and dispersing, upon
various occasions, those disorderly assemblies of rioters, whose
violence and cruelty had dishonoured the commencement of the Revolution.
But the spirit which raised these commotions was unabated, and was
carefully nourished by the Jacobins and all their subordinate agents,
whose popularity lay among the rabble, as that of the Constitutionalists
did with the citizens. Among the current falsehoods of the day, arose a
report that the old castle of Vincennes, situated about three miles from
Paris, was to be used as a state prison in place of the Bastile. A large
mob marched from the suburb called Saint Antoine, the residence of a
great number of labourers of the lowest order, already distinguished by
its zeal for the revolutionary doctrines. [Feb. 20.] They were about to
commence the destruction of the ancient castle, when the vigilant
commandant of Paris arrived, and dispersed them, not without bloodshed.
In the meantime, the few Royalists whom Paris still contained, became
alarmed lest this tumult, though beginning in another quarter, might be
turned against the person of the King. For his protection about three
hundred gentlemen repaired to the Tuileries, armed with sword canes,
short swords, pistols, and such other weapons as could be best concealed
about their persons, as they went through the streets. Their services
and zeal were graciously acknowledged by the unfortunate Louis, little
accustomed of late to such marks of devotion. But when La Fayette
returned to the palace, at the head of his grenadiers of the national
guard, he seems not to have been ill pleased that the intrusion of these
gentlemen gave him an opportunity of showing, that if he had dispersed
the revolutionary mob of the Fauxbourgs, it was without any undue degree
of affection to the royal cause. He felt, or affected, extreme jealousy
of the armed aristocrats whom he found in the Tuileries, and treated
them as men who had indecently thrust themselves into the palace, to
usurp the duty of defending the King's person, by law consigned to the
national guard. To appease the jealousy of the civic soldiers, the King
issued his commands upon the Royalists to lay down their arms. He was no
sooner obeyed by those, to whom alone out of so many millions he could
still issue his commands, than a most scandalous scene ensued. The
soldiers, falling upon the unfortunate gentlemen, expelled them from the
palace with blows and insult, applying to them the name of "Knights of
the Poniard," afterwards often repeated in revolutionary objurgation.
The vexation and sorrow of the captive prince had a severe effect on his
health, and was followed by indisposition.
The second incident we have alluded to intimated even more directly the
personal restraint in which he was now held. Early in spring [April 18,]
Louis had expressed his purpose of going to Saint Cloud, under the
pretext of seeking a change of air, but in reality, it may be supposed,
for the purpose of ascertaining what degree of liberty he would be
permitted to exercise. The royal carriages were drawn out, and the King
and Queen had already mounted theirs, when the cries of the spectators,
echoed by those of the national guards who were upon duty, declared that
the King should not be permitted to leave the Tuileries. La Fayette
arrived--commanded, implored, threatened the refractory guards, but was
answered by their unanimous refusal to obey his orders. After the scene
of tumult had lasted more than an hour, and it had been clearly proved
that La Fayette's authority was unable to accomplish his purpose, the
royal persons returned to the palace, now their absolute and avowed
prison.[146]
La Fayette was so much moved by this affront, that he laid down his
commission as commandant of the national guard; and although he resumed
it, upon the general remonstrances and excuses of the corps, it was not
without severely reproaching them for their want of discipline, and
intimating justly, that the respect they showed ought to be for his rank
and office, not for his person.
Meantime, the natural inferences from these cruel lessons, drove the
King and Queen nearly desperate. The events of the 28th of February had
shown that they were not to be permitted to introduce their friends or
defenders within the fatal walls which inclosed them; those of the 18th
April proved, that they were not allowed to leave their precincts. To
fly from Paris, to gather around him such faithful subjects as might
remain, seemed, though a desperate resource, the only one which remained
to the unhappy monarch, and the preparations were already made for the
fatal experiment.
The Marquis de Bouillé had, under various pretences, formed a camp at
Montmedy, and had drawn thither some of the troops he could best depend
upon; but such was the universal indisposition, both of the soldiery and
the people of every description, that the general seems to have
entertained almost no hope of any favourable result for the royal
cause.[147] The King's life might have been saved by his escaping into
foreign parts, but there was hardly any prospect of restoring the
monarchy.
The history of the unhappy Journey to Varennes is well known. On the
night between the 20th and 21st of June, Louis and his Queen, with their
two children, attended by the Princess Elizabeth and Madame de Tourzel,
and escorted by three gentlemen of the gardes du corps, set out in
disguise from Paris. The King left behind him a long manifesto,
inculpating the Assembly for various political errors, and solemnly
protesting against the acts of government to which he had been
compelled, as he stated, to give his assent, during what he termed his
captivity, which he seemed to have dated from his compulsory residence
in the Tuileries.[148]
[Sidenote: ESCAPE OF THE KING.]
The very first person whom the Queen encountered in the streets was La
Fayette himself, as he crossed the Place du Carousel.[149] A hundred
other dangers attended the route of the unfortunate fugitives, and the
hair-breadth escapes by which they profited, seemed to intimate the
favour of fortune, while they only proved her mutability. An escort
placed for them at the Pont de Sommeville, had been withdrawn, after
their remaining at that place for a time had excited popular suspicion.
At Saint Menehould they met a small detachment of dragoons, stationed
there by Bouillé, also for their escort. But while they halted to change
horses, the King, whose features were remarkable, was recognised by
Drouet, a son of the postmaster. The young man was a keen revolutionist,
and resolving to prevent the escape of the sovereign, he mounted a
horse, and pushed forwards to Varennes to prepare the municipality for
the arrival of the King.
Two remarkable chances seemed to show that the good angel of Louis still
strove in his favour. Drouet was pursued by a resolute Royalist, a
quartermaster of dragoons, who suspected his purpose, and followed him
with the design of preventing it, at all hazards. But Drouet, better
acquainted with the road, escaped a pursuit which might have been fatal
to him. The other incident was, that Drouet for a time pursued the road
to Verdun, instead of that to Varennes, concluding the King had taken
the former direction, and was only undeceived by an accident.
He reached Varennes, and found a ready disposition to stop the flight of
the unhappy prince. The King was stopped at Varennes and arrested; the
national guards were called out--the dragoons refused to fight in the
King's defence--an escort of hussars, who might have cut a passage,
arrived too late, acted with reluctance, and finally deserted the town.
Still there remained one last throw for their freedom. If the time could
have been protracted but for an hour and a half, Bouillé would have been
before Varennes at the head of such a body of faithful and disciplined
troops as might easily have dispersed the national militia. He had even
opened a correspondence with the royal prisoners through a faithful
emissary who ventured into Varennes, and obtained speech of the King;
but could obtain no answer more decided than that, being a prisoner,
Louis declined giving any orders. Finally, almost all the troops of the
Marquis de Bouillé declared against the King and in favour of the
nation, tending to show the little chance which existed of a favourable
issue to the King's attempt to create a Royalist force. The Marquis
himself made his escape with difficulty into the Austrian
territories.[150]
The Parisians in general, but especially the Legislative Assembly, had
been at first astounded, as if by an earthquake. The King's escape
seemed to menace his instant return at the head of aristocratical
levies, supported by foreign troops. Reflection made most men see, as a
more probable termination, that the dynasty of the Bourbons could no
longer hold the crown; and that the government, already so democratical
in principle, must become a republic in all its forms.[151] The
Constitutionalists grieved that their constitution required a
monarchical head; the Republicans rejoiced, for it had long been their
object to abolish the kingly office. Nor did the anarchists of the
Jacobin Club less exult; for the events which had taken place, and their
probable consequences, were such as to animate the revolutionary spirit,
exasperate the public mind, prevent the return of order, and stimulate
the evil passions of lawless ambition, and love of blood and rapine.
But La Fayette was determined not to relinquish the constitution he had
formed, and, in spite of the unpopularity of the royal dignity, rendered
more so by this frustrated attempt to escape, he was resolved to uphold
it; and was joined in this purpose by Barnave and others, who did not
always share his sentiments, but who thought it shame, apparently, to
show to the world, that a constitution, framed for immortality upon the
best political principles of the most accomplished statesmen in France,
was so slightly built, as to part and go asunder at the first shock. The
purpose of the commandant of Paris, however, was not to be accomplished
without a victory over the united strength of the Republican and
Jacobinical parties, who on their part might be expected to put in
motion on the occasion their many-handed revolutionary engine, an
insurrection of the people.
Such was the state of political opinions, when the unfortunate Louis
was brought back to Paris.[152] He was, with his wife and children,
covered with dust, dejected with sorrow, and exhausted with fatigue. The
faithful gardes du corps who had accompanied their flight, sate bound
like felons on the driving seat of the carriage. His progress was at
first silent and unhonoured. The guard did not present arms--the people
remained covered--no man said God bless him. At another part of the
route, a number of the rabble precipitated themselves on the carriage,
and it was with the utmost difficulty that the national guards and some
deputies, could assure it a safe passage.[153] Under such auspices were
the royal family committed once more to their old prison of the
Tuileries.
Meantime the crisis of the King's fate seemed to be approaching. It was
not long ere the political parties had an opportunity of trying their
respective force. A meeting was held, upon the motion of the Republican
and Jacobinical leaders, in the Champ de Mars, [July 17,] to subscribe a
petition[154] for the dethronement of the King, couched in the boldest
and broadest terms. There was in this plain a wooden edifice raised on
scaffolding, called the Altar of the Country, which had been erected for
the ceremony of the Federation of 14th July, 1790, when the assembled
representatives of the various departments of France took their oath to
observe the constitution. On this altar the petition was displayed for
signature; but each revolutionary act required a preliminary libation of
blood, and the victims on this occasion were two wretched invalids, whom
the rabble found at breakfast under the scaffolding which supported the
revolutionary altar, and accused of a design to blow up the patriots. To
accuse was to condemn. They were murdered without mercy, and their heads
paraded on pikes, became as usual the standards of the insurgent
citizens.[155]
[Sidenote: REVOLT IN THE CHAMP DE MARS.]
The municipal officers attempted to disperse the assemblage, but to no
purpose. Bailli, mayor of Paris, together with La Fayette, resolved to
repel force by force; martial law was proclaimed, and its signal, the
red flag, was displayed from the Hôtel de Ville. La Fayette, with a
body of grenadiers, arrived in the Champ de Mars. He was received with
abuse, and execrations of "Down with La Fayette! Down with martial law!"
followed by a volley of stones. The commandant gave orders to fire, and
was on this occasion most promptly obeyed; for the grenadiers pouring
their shot directly into the crowd, more than a hundred men lay dead at
the first volley. The Champ de Mars was empty in an instant, and the
constituted authority, for the first time since the Revolution
commenced, remained master of a contested field. La Fayette ought to
have followed up this triumph of the legal force, by giving a triumph to
the law itself, in the trial and conviction of some of his prisoners,
selecting particularly the agitators employed by the Club of Jacobins;
but he thought he had done enough in frightening these harpies back to
their dens. Some of their leaders sought and found refuge among the
Republicans, which was not, in that hour of danger, very willingly
granted.[156] Marat, and many others who had been hitherto the undaunted
and unwearied instigators of the rabble, were compelled to skulk in
obscurity for some time after this victory of the Champ de Mars, which
the Jacobins felt severely at the time, and forgot not afterwards to
avenge most cruelly.[157]
This victory led to the triumph of the Constitutionalists in the
Assembly. The united exertions of those who argued against the
deposition of Louis, founding their reasoning upon that constitutional
law, which declares the King inviolable in his person, overpowered the
party who loudly called on the Assembly to proclaim his forfeiture, or
appoint his trial. The Assembly clogged, however, the future
inviolability of the King with new penalties. If the King, having
accepted the constitution, should retract, they decreed he should be
considered as abdicated. If he should order his army, or any part of it,
to act against the nation, this should, in like manner, be deemed an act
of abdication; and an abdicated monarch, it was farther decreed, should
become an ordinary citizen, answerable to the laws for every act he had
done since the act of abdication.
The constitution, with the royal immunity thus curtailed and maimed, was
now again presented to the King, who again accepted it purely and
simply, in terms which, while they excited acclamation from the
Assembly, were but feebly echoed from the gallery, [September 14.] The
legislators were glad to make a virtue of necessity, and complete their
constitutional code, though in a precarious manner; but the hearts of
the people were now decidedly alienated from the King, and, by a strange
concurrence of misfortune, mixed with some errors, Louis, whose genuine
and disinterested good intentions ought to have made him the darling of
his subjects, had now become the object of their jealousy and
detestation.
[Sidenote: LOUIS ACCEPTS THE CONSTITUTION.]
Upon reviewing the measures which had been adopted on the King's return
to Paris, historians will probably be of opinion, that it was impolitic
in the Assembly to offer the constitutional crown to Louis, and
imprudent in that unhappy prince to accept it under the conditions
annexed. On the former point it must be remembered, that these
innovators, who had changed every thing else in the state, could, upon
principle, have had no hesitation to alter the person or the dynasty of
their sovereign. According to the sentiments which they had avowed, the
King, as well as the Nobles and Clergy, was in their hands, as clay in
that of the potter, to be used or thrown away at pleasure. The present
King, in the manifesto left behind him on his flight, had protested to
all Europe against the system of which he was made the head, and it was
scarcely possible that his sentiments could be altered in its favour, by
the circumstances attending his unwilling return from Varennes. The
Assembly, therefore, acting upon their own principles, should have at
once proceeded on the idea that his flight was a virtual abdication of
the crown--they should have made honourable provision for a prince
placed in so uncommon a situation, and suffered him to enjoy in Spain or
Italy an honourable independence, so soon as the storm was ended which
threatened them from abroad. In the meanwhile, the person of the King
would have been a pledge in their hands, which might have given them
some advantage in treating with the foreign princes of his family, and
the potentates of Europe in general. The general policy of this appears
so obvious, that it was probably rather the difficulty of arranging in
what hands the executive authority should be lodged, than any preference
of Louis XVI., which induced the Assembly again to deposit it in his
hands, shorn, in a great measure, even of the limited consequence and
privileges constitutionally annexed to it.[158] La Fayette and his party
perhaps reckoned on the King's spirit having given way, from observing
how unanimously the people of France were disposed in favour of the new
state of things, and may have trusted to his accommodating himself,
therefore, without further resistance, to act the part of the
unsubstantial pageant which the constitution assigned him.
If it was impolitic in the Constitutionalists to replace the crown upon
the head of Louis, it was certainly unworthy of that monarch to accept
it, unless invested with such a degree of power as might give him some
actual weight and preponderance in the system. Till his flight to
Varennes, the King's dislike to the constitution was a secret in his own
bosom, which might indeed be suspected from circumstances, but which
could not be proved; and which, placed as he was, the King was entitled
to conceal, since his real sentiments could not be avowed consistently
with his personal safety. But now this veil was torn aside, and he had
told all Europe in a public declaration, that he had been acting under
constraint, since the time he was brought in triumph from Versailles to
Paris. It would certainly have been most dignified in Louis to have
stood or fallen in conformity with this declaration, made on the only
occasion which he had enjoyed for such a length of time, of speaking his
own free sentiments. He should not, when brought back to his prison,
have resumed the submission of a prisoner, or affected to accept as a
desirable boon, the restoration, as it might be called, and that in a
mutilated state, of a sovereignty, which he had voluntarily abandoned,
at such extreme personal risk. His resolutions were too flexible, and
too much at the mercy of circumstances, to be royal or noble. Charles
I., even in the Isle of Wight, treated with his subjects, as a prisoner
indeed, but still as a King, refusing to accede to such articles as, in
his own mind, he was determined not to abide by. Louis, we conceive,
should have returned the same answer to the Assembly which he did to the
royalist officer at Varennes, "that a prisoner could give no orders, and
make no concessions." He should not, like a bird which has escaped and
been retaken, forget the notes which he uttered when at freedom, and
return to his set and prescribed prison-song the instant that the cage
again enclosed him. No man, above all, no king, should place the
language of his feelings and sentiments so much at the disposal of
fortune. An adherence to the sentiments expressed in his voluntary
declaration, might, it is possible, have afforded him the means of
making some more favourable composition; whereas, the affectation of
willing submission to the same force which his own voice had so lately
proclaimed illegal, could but make the unhappy King suspected of
attempting a deceit, by which no one could be deceived. But the
difficulties of his situation were great, and Louis might well remember
the proverb, which places the grave of deposed sovereigns close to their
prison-gates. He might be persuaded to temporize with the party which
still offered to preserve a show of royalty in the constitution, until
time or circumstances permitted him to enlarge its basis. In the
meantime, if we can believe Bertrand de Moleville, Louis avowed to him
the determination to act under the constitution with all sincerity and
good faith; but it must be owned, that it would have required the
virtues of a saint to have enabled him to make good this pledge, had the
success of the Austrians, or any strong counter-revolutionary movement,
tempted him to renounce it. At all events, the King was placed in a
doubtful and suspicious position towards the people of France, who must
necessarily have viewed with additional jealousy the head of a
government, who, avowedly discontented with the share of power allotted
to him, had nevertheless accepted it,--like the impoverished gamester,
who will rather play for small stakes than be cut out of the game.
[Sidenote: CONSTITUTIONAL ASSEMBLY.]
The work of the constitution being thus accomplished, the National, or,
as it is usually called, the Constituent Assembly, dissolved itself,
[Sept. 29,] agreeably to the vow they had pronounced in the Tennis-court
at Versailles. The constitution, that structure which they raised for
immortality, soon afterwards became ruinous; but in few assemblies of
statesmen have greater and more varied talents been assembled. Their
debates were often fierce and stormy, their mode of arguing wild and
vehement, their resolutions sudden and ill-considered. These were the
faults partly of the French character, which is peculiarly open to
sudden impulses, partly to the great changes perpetually crowding upon
them, and to the exciting progress of a revolution which hurried all men
into extravagance. On the other hand, they respected freedom of debate;
and the proscription of members of their body, for maintaining and
declaring their sentiments, in opposition to that of the majority, is
not to be found in their records, though so fearfully frequent in those
of their successors. Their main and master error was the attempt to do
too much, and to do it all at once. The parties kept no terms with each
other, would wait for no conviction, and make no concession. It was a
war for life and death betwixt men, who, had they seen more calmly for
their country and for themselves, would rather have sacrificed some part
of the theoretical exactness of principle on which they insisted, to the
opportunity of averting practical evil, or attaining practical good. The
errors of the Assembly were accordingly those of extremes. They had felt
the weight of the feudal chains, and they destroyed the whole nobility.
The monarch had been too powerful for the liberties of the subject--they
now bound him as a slave at the feet of the legislative authority. Their
arch of liberty gave way, because they hesitated to place upon it, in
the shape of an efficient executive government, a weight sufficient to
keep it steady. Yet to these men France was indebted for the first
principles of civil liberty. They kindled the flame, though they could
not regulate it; and such as now enjoy its temperate warmth should have
sympathy for the errors of those to whom they owe a boon so
inestimable;--nor should this sympathy be the less, that so many
perished in the conflagration, which, at the commencement, they had
fanned too rashly. They did even more, for they endeavoured to heal the
wounds of the nation by passing an act of general amnesty, which at once
placed in security the Jacobins of the Champ de Mars, and the
unfortunate companions of the King's flight. This was one of their last
and wisest decrees, could they have enforced its observance by their
successors.
The adieus which they took of power were anything but prophetic. They
pronounced the Revolution ended, and the Constitution completed--the one
was but commencing, and the other was baseless as a morning dream.
FOOTNOTES:
[123] Thiers, tom. i., p. 192; Lacretelle, tom. vii., p. 262.
[124] "The indignant populace murmured at the severity. 'What!' they
exclaimed, 'is this our liberty? We can no longer hang whom we
please!'"--TOULONGEON, tom. i., p. 168.
[125] "A simple decree, proposed, June 20th, by Lameth, that the titles
of duke, count, marquis, viscount, baron, and chevalier, should be
suppressed, was carried by an overwhelming majority."--MIGNET, tom. ii.,
p. 114.
[126] Richard the Second, act iii., sc. i.
[127] "One of the most singular propositions of this day was, that of
renouncing the names of estates, which many families had borne for ages,
and obliging them to resume their patronymic appellations. In this way
the Montmorencies would have been called Bouchard; La Fayette, Mottié;
Mirabeau, Riquetti. This would have been stripping France of her
history; and no man, how democratic soever, either would or ought to
renounce in this manner the memory of his ancestors."--M. DE STAËL, vol.
i., p. 364.
[128] The Comte de Mirabeau was furious at being called _Riquetti
l'ainé_, and said, with great bitterness, when his speeches were
promulgated under that name, "_Avec votre Riquetti, vous avez désorienté
l'Europe pour trois jours_." Mirabeau was at heart an aristocrat. But
what shall we say of Citoyenne Roland, who piques herself on the
plebeian sound of her name, _Manon Philipon_, yet inconsequentially
upbraids Citoyen Pache with his father's having been a
porter!--S.--_Memoirs_, part i., p. 140.
[129] This proposition was made by Talleyrand, then Bishop of Autun. In
support of it he argued, that "the clergy were not proprietors, but
depositories of their estates; that no individual could maintain any
right of property, or inheritance in them; that they were bestowed
originally by the munificence of kings or nobles, and might now be
resumed by the nation, which had succeeded to _their_ rights." To this
Maury and Siêyes replied, "that it was an unfounded assertion that the
property of the Church was at the disposal of the state; that it flowed
from the munificence or piety of individuals in former ages, and was
destined to a peculiar purpose, totally different from secular concerns;
that, if the purposes originally intended could not be carried into
effect it should revert to the heirs of the donors, but certainly not
accrue to the legislature."--THIERS, tom. i., p. 193.
[130] M. de Chateaubriand says, "The funds thus acquired were enormous,
the church-lands were nearly one-half of the whole landed property of
the kingdom."
[131] See Sir Henry Spelman's treatise on the "History of Sacrilege."
[132] See M. de Staël, vol. i., p. 384. "The retreat of Necker produced
a total change in the ministry. Of those who now came into office two
were destined to perish on the scaffold, and a third by the sword of the
revolutionary assassins."--LACRETELLE, tom. viii., p. 92.
[133] Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 38.
[134] Mignet, tom. i., pp. 107, 121; Thiers, tom. i., pp. 240, 266.
[135] Mignet says, "The Constitutional Church establishment was not the
work of the modern philosophers, but was devised by the Jansenists, or
rigid party." No doubt, the Jansenists, dupes of the philosophers,
fancied themselves guides instead of blind instruments.
[136] It was their custom to sit on the highest rows of benches in the
hall.
[137] Mémoires du Marquis des Ferrieres, l. iii.
[138] Mémoires de Bailli, 16 Août.
[139] Prudhomme, tom. ii., p. 297.
[140] See Mignet, tom. i., p. 126; Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 128.
"I have had in my hands a letter of Mirabeau, written for the purpose of
being shown to the King. He there made offer of all his means to restore
to France an efficient and respected, but a limited monarchy; he made
use, among others, of this remarkable expression: 'I should lament to
have laboured at nothing but a vast destruction.'"--M. DE STAËL, vol.
i., p. 401.
"He (Mirabeau) received for a short time a pension of 20,000 francs, or
£800 a-month, first from the Comte D'Artois, and afterwards the King;
but he considered himself an agent intrusted with their affairs, and he
accepted those pensions not to be governed by, but to govern, those who
granted them."--DUMONT, p. 230.
[141] Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 126.
[142] Mirabeau bore much of his character imprinted on his person and
features. He was short, bull-necked, and very strongly made. A quantity
of thick matted hair hung round features of a coarse and exaggerated
character, strongly scarred and seamed. "Figure to your mind," he said,
describing his own countenance to a lady who knew him not, "a tiger who
has had the small-pox." When he talked of confronting his opponents in
the Assembly, his favourite phrase was, "I will show them _La Hure_,"
that is, the boar's head, meaning his own tusked and shaggy
countenance.--S.
[143] "Mirabeau knew that his end was approaching. 'After my death,'
said he, 'the factions will share among themselves the shreds of the
monarchy.' He suffered cruelly in the last days of his life; and, when
no longer able to speak, wrote to his physician for a dose of opium, in
these words of Hamlet, 'to die--to sleep.' He received no consolation
from religion."--M. DE STAËL, vol. i., p. 402.
[144] "His funeral obsequies were celebrated with extraordinary pomp by
torchlight; 20,000 national guards, and delegates from all the sections
of Paris, accompanied the corpse to the Pantheon, where it was placed by
the remains of Des Cartes."--LACRETELLE, tom. viii., p. 135.
[145] Toulongeon, tom. i., p. 242; Mignet, tom. i., p. 132.
[146] Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 220.
[147] Mignet, tom. i., p. 132; Thiers, tom. i., p. 287.
[148] See Annual Register, vol. xxxiii., p. 131.
[149] "To deceive any one that might follow, we drove about several
streets: at last we returned to the Little Carousel. My brother was fast
asleep at the bottom of the carriage. We saw M. de la Fayette go by, who
had been at my father's _coucher_. There we remained, waiting a full
hour, ignorant of what was going on. Never did time appear so
tedious."--DUCHESS OF ANGOULÊME'S _Narrative_, p. 9.
[150] Bouillé's Memoirs, pp. 275-290; Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 258.
[151] The following anecdote will serve to show by what means this
conclusion was insinuated into the public mind. A group in the Palais
Royal were discussing in great alarm the consequences of the King's
flight, when a man, dressed in a thread-bare great-coat, leaped upon a
chair and addressed them thus:--"Citizens, listen to a tale, which shall
not be a long one. A certain well-meaning Neapolitan was once on a time
startled in his evening walk, by the astounding intelligence that the
Pope was dead. He had not recovered his astonishment, when behold he is
informed of a new disaster,--the King of Naples was also no more.
'Surely,' said the worthy Neapolitan, 'the sun must vanish from heaven
at such a combination of fatalities.' But they did not cease here. The
Archbishop of Palermo, he is informed, has also died suddenly. Overcome
by this last shock he retired to bed, but not to sleep. In the morning
he was disturbed in his melancholy reverie by a rumbling noise, which he
recognised at once to be the motion of the wooden instrument which makes
macaroni. 'Aha!' says the good man, starting up, 'can I trust my
ears?--The Pope is dead--the King of Naples is dead--the Bishop of
Palermo is dead--yet my neighbour the baker makes macaroni! Come! The
lives of these great folk are not then so indispensable to the world
after all.'" The man in the great-coat jumped down and disappeared. "I
have caught his meaning," said a woman amongst the listeners. "He has
told us a tale, and it begins like all tales--_There was ONCE a King and
a Queen_."--S.
[152] Three commissioners, Petion, La Tour Maubourg, and Barnave, were
sent to reconduct the fugitives to Paris. They met them at Epernay, and
travelled with them to the Tuileries. During the journey, Barnave,
though a stern Republican, was so melted by the graceful dignity of the
Queen, and impressed with the good sense and benevolence of the King,
that he became inclined to the royal cause, and ever after supported
their fortunes. His attentions to the Queen were so delicate, and his
conduct so gentle, that she assured Madame Campan, that she forgave him
all the injuries he had inflicted on her family.--THIERS, tom. i., p.
299.
[153] "Count de Dampierre, a nobleman inhabiting a chateau near the
road, approaching to kiss the hand of the King, was instantly pierced by
several balls from the escort; his blood sprinkled the royal carriage,
and his remains were torn to pieces by the savages."--LACRETELLE, tom.
viii., p. 271; M. DE CAMPAN, tom. ii., p. 154.
[154] Drawn up by Brissot, author of the _Patriot Française_.
[155] Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. 311.
[156] Mémoires de Mad. Roland, art. "_Robert_,"--S.--[part i., p. 157.]
[157] Thiers, tom. i., p. 312.
[158] "Mr. Fox told me in England, in 1793, that at the time of the
King's departure to Varennes, he should have wished that he had been
allowed to quit the kingdom in peace."--M. DE STAËL, vol. i., p. 408.
Napoleon said at St. Helena:--"The National Assembly never committed so
great an error as in bringing back the King from Varennes. A fugitive
and powerless, he was hastening to the frontier, and in a few hours
would have been out of the French territory. What should they have done
in these circumstances? Clearly facilitated his escape, and declared the
throne vacant by his desertion. They would thus have avoided the infamy
of a regicide government, and attained their great object of republican
institutions."