Part 413

"What was the Assembly doing at this period, when Paris was waiting in expectation, and the capture of the Bastille was being imitated all over France; when châteaux were burning, and nobles flying into exile; when there was positive civil war in many a district, and anarchy in every province? Why, the Assembly was discussing whether or not the new constitution of France should be prefaced by a Declaration of the Rights of Man. In the discussion of this extremely important question were wasted the precious days which followed July 17. … The complacency of these theorists was rudely shaken on August 4, when Salomon read to the Assembly the report of the Comité des Recherches, or Committee of Researches, on the state of France. A terrible report it was. Châteaux burning here and there; millers hung; tax-gatherers drowned; the warehouses and depots of the gabelle burnt; everywhere rioting, and nowhere peace. … Among those who listened to the clear and forcible report of Salomon were certain of the young liberal noblesse who had just been dining with the Duc de la Roehefoucauld-Liancourt, a wise and enlightened nobleman. At their head was the Vicomte de Noailles, a young man of thirty-three, who had distinguished himself at the head of his regiment under his cousin, Lafayette, in America. … The Vicomte de Noailles was the first to rush to the tribune. 'What is the cause of the evil which is agitating the provinces?' he cried; and then he showed that it arose from the uncertainty under which the people dwelt, as to whether or not the old feudal bonds under which they had so long lived and laboured were to be perpetuated or abolished, and concluded an impassioned speech by proposing to abolish them at once. One after another the young liberal noblemen, and then certain deputies of the tiers état, followed him with fresh sacrifices. First the old feudal rights were abolished; then the rights of the dovecote and the game laws; then the old copyhold services; then the tithes paid to the Church, in spite of a protest from Siéyès; then the rights of certain cities over their immediate suburbs and rural districts were sacrificed; and the contention during that feverish night was rather to remember something or other to sacrifice than to suggest the expediency of maintaining anything which was established. In its generosity the Assembly even gave away what did not belong to it. The old dues paid to the pope were abolished, and it was even declared that the territory of Avignon, which had belonged to the pope since the Middle Ages, should be united to France if it liked; and the sitting closed with a unanimous decree that a statue should be erected to Louis XVI., 'the restorer of French liberty.' Well might Mirabeau define the night of August 4 as a mere 'orgie.' … Noble indeed were the intentions of the deputies. … {1265} Yet the results of this night of sacrifices were bad rather than good. As Mirabeau pointed out, the people of France were told that all the feudal rights, dues, and tithes had been abolished that evening, but they were not told at the same time that there must be taxes and other burdens to take their place. It was of no use to issue a provisional order that all rights, dues, and taxes remained in force for the present, because the poor peasant would refuse to pay what was illegal, and would not understand the political necessity of supporting the revenue. … This ill-considered mass of resolutions was what was thrown in the face of France in a state of anarchy to restore it to a state of order."

_H. M. Stephens, History of the French Revolution, volume 1, chapter 5._

ALSO IN: A. Thiers, History of the French Revolution, (American edition), volume 1, pages 81-84.

FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (August-October). Constitution-making and the Rights of Man. The first emigration of nobles. Famine in Paris. Rumors of an intended flight of the King.

"One may look upon the peculiarity of the Assembly as being a singular faith in the power of ideas. That was its greatness. It firmly believed that truth shaped into laws would be invincible. Two months—such was the calculation—would suffice to construct the constitution. That constitution by its omnipotent virtue would convince all men and bend them to its authority, and the revolution would be completed. Such was the faith of the National Assembly. The attitude of the people was so menacing that many of the courtiers fled. Thus commenced the first emigration. … As if the minds of men were not sufficiently agitated, there now were heard cries of a great conspiracy of the aristocrats. The papers announced that a plot had been discovered which was to have delivered Brest to the English. Brest, the naval arsenal, wherein France for whole centuries had expended her millions and her labours: this given up to England! England would once more overrun France! … It was amidst these cries of alarm—with on one hand the emigration of the nobility, on the other the hunger of a maddened people; with here an irresolute aristocracy, startled at the audacity of the 'canaille,' and there a resolute Assembly, prepared, at the hazard of their lives, to work out the liberty of France; amidst reports of famine, of insurrections, and wild disorders of all sorts, that we find the National Assembly debating upon the rights of man, discussing every article with metaphysical quibbling and wearisome fluency, and, having finally settled each article, making their famous Declaration. This Declaration, which was solemnly adopted by the Assembly, on the 18th of August, was the product of a whole century of philosophical speculation, fixed and reduced to formulas, and bearing unmistakeable traces of Rousseau. It declared the original equality of mankind, and that the ends of social union are liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression. It declared that sovereignty resides in the nation, from whence all power emanates; that freedom consists in doing everything which does not injure another; that law is the expression of the general will; that public burdens should be borne by all the members of the state in proportion to their fortunes; that the elective franchise should be extended to all; that the exercise of natural rights has no other limit than their interference with the rights of others; that no man should be persecuted for his religious opinions, provided he conform to the laws and do not disturb the religion of the state; that all men have the right of quitting the state in which they were born, and of choosing another country, by renouncing their rights of citizenship; that the liberty of the press is the foremost support of public liberty, and the law should maintain it, at the same time punishing those who abuse it by distributing seditious discourses, or calumnies against individuals." Having adopted its Declaration of the rights of man, the Assembly proceeded to the drawing up of a constitution which should embody the principles of the Declaration, and soon found itself in passionate debate upon the relations to be established between the national legislature and the king. Should the king retain a veto upon legislation? Should he have any voice in the making of laws? "The lovers of England and the English constitution all voted in favour of the veto. Even Mirabeau was for it." Robespierre, just coming into notice, bore a prominent part in the opposition. "The majority of the Assembly shared Robespierre's views; and the King's counselors were at length forced to propose a compromise in the shape of a suspensive veto; namely, that the King should not have the absolute right of preventing any law, but only the right of suspending it for two, four, or six years. … It was carried by a large majority." Meantime, in Paris, "vast and incalculable was the misery: crowds of peruke-makers, tailors, and shoemakers, were wont to assemble at the Louvre and in the Champs Elysées, demanding things impossible to be granted; demanding that the old regulations should be maintained, and that new ones should be made; demanding that the rate of daily wages should be fixed; demanding … that all the Savoyards in the country should be sent away, and only Frenchmen employed. The bakers' shops were besieged, as early as five o'clock in the morning, by hungry crowds who had to stand 'en queue'; happy when they had money to purchase miserable bread, even in this uncomfortable manner. … Paris was living at the mercy of chance: its subsistence dependent on some arrival or other: dependent on a convoy from Beauce, or a boat from Corbeuil. The city, at immense sacrifices, was obliged to lower the price of bread: the consequence was that the population for more than ten leagues round came to procure provisions at Paris. The uncertainty of the morrow augmented the difficulties. Everybody stored up, and concealed provisions. The administration sent in every direction, and bought up flour, by fair means, or by foul. It often happened that at midnight there was but half the flour necessary for the morning market. Provisioning Paris was a kind of war. The National Guard was sent to protect each arrival; or to secure certain purchases by force of arms. Speculators were afraid; farmers would not thrash any longer; neither would the miller grind. 'I used to see,' says Bailly, 'good tradesmen, mercers and goldsmiths, praying to be admitted among the beggars employed at Montmartre, in digging the ground.' Then came fearful whispers of the King's intention to fly to Metz. What will become of us if the King should fly? He must not fly; we will have him here; here amongst us in Paris! This produced the famous insurrection of women … on the 5th October."

_G. H. Lewes, Life of Robespierre, chapter 9._

_H. von Sybel, History of the French Revolution, book 1, chapters 3-4 (volume 1)._

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FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (October). The Insurrection of Women. Their march to Versailles.

"A thought, or dim raw-material of a thought, was fermenting all night [October 4-5], universally in the female head, and might explode. In squalid garret, on Monday morning Maternity awakes, to hear children weeping for bread. Maternity must forth to the streets, to the herb-markets and Bakers'-queues; meets there with hunger-stricken Maternity, sympathetic, exasperative. O we unhappy women! But, instead of Bakers'-queues, why not to Aristocrats' palaces, the root of the matter? Allons! Let us assemble. To the Hôtel-de-Ville; to Versailles; to the Lanterne! In one of the Guard houses of the Quartier Saint-Eustache, 'a young woman' seizes a drum,—for how shall National Guards give fire on women, on a young woman? The young woman seizes the drum; sets forth, beating it, 'uttering cries relative to the dearth of grains.' Descend, O mothers; descend, ye Judiths, to food and revenge!—All women gather and go; crowds storm all stairs, force out all women: the female Insurrectionary Force, according to Camille, resembles the English Naval one; there is a universal 'Press of women.' Robust Dames of the Halle, slim Mantua-makers, assiduous, risen with the dawn; ancient Virginity tripping to matins; the Housemaid, with early broom; all must go. Rouse ye, O, women; the laggard men will not act; they say, we ourselves may act! And so, like snowbreak from the mountains, for every staircase is a melted brook, it storms; tumultuous, wild-shrilling, towards the Hôtel-de-Ville. Tumultuous; with or without drum-music: for the Faubourg Saint-Antoine also has tucked-up its gown; and with besom-staves, fire-irons, and even rusty pistols (void of ammunition), is flowing on. Sound of it flies, with a velocity of sound, to the utmost Barriers. By seven o'clock, on this raw October morning, fifth of the month, the Townhall will see wonders. … Grand it was, says Camille, to see so many Judiths, from eight to ten thousand of them in all, rushing out to search into the root of the matter! Not unfrightful it must have been; ludicro-terrific, and most unmanageable. At such hour the overwatched Three Hundred are not yet stirring: none but some Clerks, a company of National Guards; and M. de Gouvion, the Major-general. Gouvion has fought in America for the cause of civil Liberty; a man of no inconsiderable heart, but deficient in head. He is, for the moment, in his back apartment; assuaging Usher Maillard, the Bastille-sergeant, who has come, as too many do, with 'representations.' The assuagement is still incomplete when our Judiths arrive. The National Guards form on the outer stairs, with levelled bayonets; the ten thousand Judiths press up, resistless; with obtestations, with outspread hands,—merely to speak to the Mayor. The rear forces them; nay from male hands in the rear, stones already fly: the National Guard must do one of two things; sweep the Place de Greve with cannon, or else open to right and left. They open: the living deluge rushes in. Through all rooms and cabinets, upwards to the topmost belfry: ravenous; seeking arms, seeking Mayors, seeking justice;— while, again, the better-dressed speak kindly to the Clerks; point out the misery of these poor women; also their ailments, some even of an interesting sort. Poor M. de Gouvion is shiftless in this extremity;—a man shiftless, perturbed: who will one day commit suicide. How happy for him that Usher Maillard the shifty was there, at the moment, though making representations! Fly back, thou shifty Maillard: seek the Bastille Company; and O return fast with it; above all, with thy own shifty head! For, behold, the Judiths can find no Mayor or Municipal; scarcely, in the topmost belfry, can they find poor Abbé Lefèvre the Powder-distributor. Him, for want of a better, they suspend there: in the pale morning light; over the top of all Paris, which swims in one's failing eyes:—a horrible end? Nay the rope broke, as French ropes often did; or else an Amazon cut it. Abbe Lefèvre falls, some twenty feet, rattling among the leads; and lives long years after, though always with 'a tremblement in the limbs.' And now doors fly under hatchets; the Judiths have broken the Armory; have seized guns and cannons, three money-bags, paper-heaps; torches flare: in few minutes, our brave Hôtel-de-Ville, which dates from the Fourth Henry, will, with all that it holds, be in flames! In flames, truly,—were it not that Usher Maillard, swift of foot, shifty of head, has returned! Maillard, of his own motion,—for Gouvion or the rest would not even sanction him,—snatches a drum: descends the Porch-stairs, ran-tan, beating sharp, with loud rolls, his Rogues'-march: To Versailles! Allons; à Versailles! As men beat on kettle or warming-pan, when angry she-bees, or say, flying desperate wasps, are to be hived; and the desperate insects hear it, and cluster round it,—simply as round a guidance, where there was none: so now these Menads round shifty Maillard, Riding-Usher of the Châtelet. The axe pauses uplifted; Abbé Lefèvre is left half-hanged: from the belfry downwards all vomits itself. What rub-a-dub is that? Stanislas Maillard, Bastille hero, will lead us to Versailles? Joy to thee, Maillard; blessed art thou above Riding-Ushers! Away, then, away! The seized cannon are yoked with seized cart-horses: brown-locked Demoiselle Théroigne, with pike and helmet, sits there as gunneress. … Maillard (for his drum still rolls) is, by heaven-rending acclamation, admitted General. Maillard hastens the languid march. … And now Maillard has his Menads in the Champs Elysées (Fields Tartarean rather); and the Hôtel-de-Ville has suffered comparatively nothing. … Great Maillard! A small nucleus of Order is round his drum; but his outskirts fluctuate like the mad Ocean: for Rascality male and female is flowing in on him, from the four winds: guidance there is none but in his single head and two drum-sticks. … On the Elysian Fields there is pause and fluctuation; but, for Maillard, no return. He persuades his Menads, clamorous for arms and the Arsenal, that no arms are in the Arsenal; that an unarmed attitude, and petition to a National Assembly, will be the best: he hastily nominates or sanctions generalesses, captains of tens and fifties;—and so, in loosest-flowing order, to the rhythm of some 'eight drums' (having laid aside his own), with the Bastille Volunteers bringing up his rear, once more takes the road. Chaillot, which will promptly yield baked loaves, is not plundered; nor are the Sèvres Potteries broken. … The press of women still continues, for it is the cause of all Eve's Daughters, mothers that are, or that ought to be. No carriage-lady, were it with never such hysterics, but must dismount, in the mud roads, in her silk shoes, and walk. In this manner, amid wild October weather, they, a wild unwinged stork-flight, through the astonished country wend their way."

_T. Carlyle, The French Revolution, volume 1, book 7, chapters 4-5._

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FRANCE: A. D. 1789 (October). The mob of men at Versailles, with Lafayette and the National Guard. The king and royal family brought to Paris.