THE SIEGE OF THE BASTILLE

THE AFFAIRE RÉVEILLON

THE spring of 1789 found the citizens of Paris divided between two great emotions, hope and fear—hope verging on ecstasy at the prospect of the States-General that were to regenerate the kingdom, fear amounting to panic at the threatened famine and the presence of mysterious strangers in their midst.

The immense charities of the King, noblesse, and clergy had had the effect of attracting crowds of hungry peasants to Paris, where they were employed at the King’s expense in working at the Butte Montmartre, and soon fell a prey to the Orléaniste leaders, who enlisted many of them in their service for the purposes of insurrection.  But even this formidable addition to the underworld of Paris formed but a small minority amongst the lawabiding of the population, and a further measure was devised by the leaders.  Towards the end of April the peaceful citizens saw with bewilderment bands of ragged men of horrible appearance, armed with thick knotted sticks, flocking through the barriers into the city.  This sinister contingent is not, as certain historians would have us believe, to be confounded with the former crowds of peasants—“ they were neither workmen nor peasants,” says Madame Vigée le Brun, “ they seemed to belong to no class unless that of bandits, so terrifying were their faces,” and Montjoie adds that this aspect was intentional—“ they had been instructed to disfigure their faces in a manner so hideous that they were objects of horror to all the Parisians.”  Other contemporaries, whose accounts exactly coincide with the foregoing, add that these men were “ foreigners ”—“ they spoke a strange tongue ” ;  Bouille states that “ they were bandits from the South of France and Italy,” whilst Marmontel describes them as “ Marseillais ... men of rapine and carnage, thirsting for blood and booty, who, mingling with the people, inspired them with their own ferocity.”

The Marseillais were therefore not called in for the first time in 1792, as is generally supposed, and their aid was evidently evoked at the later date in consequence of their successes at the beginning of the Revolution.  That brigands from the South were deliberately enticed to Paris in 1789, employed and paid by the revolutionary leaders, is a fact confirmed by authorities too numerous to quote at length ;  and the further fact that the conspirators felt such a measure to be necessary is of immense significance, for it shows that in their eyes the people of Paris were not to be depended on to carry out a revolution.  In other words, the importation of the contingent of hired brigands conclusively refutes the theory that the Revolution was an irrepressible rising of the people ;  it proves that, on the contrary, the movement was deliberately and laboriously engineered.  No one understood human nature better than such men as Laclos, Chamfort, and the other leaders of the Orléaniste conspiracy, and they doubtless realized that in the past the irresponsible, pleasure-loving people of Paris had shown little initiative in the matter of bloodshed, but had needed always to be given the lead before they entered into the spirit of the thing and played at killing.  Thus at the Massacre of Saint-Bartholomew had not the lead been given by the German Behme and the Italian Catherine de Medicis before the people of the city joined in the hue and cry after the flying Huguenots ?  Pitiless as they could be at moments, they were prone to sudden revulsions of feeling that in an instant transformed their victims into objects of admiration ;  they lacked the hot blood of the South that revels in cruelty and does not tire of the spectacle.  Just as the Anarchists of our own day have always realized that it is amongst the descendants of the Roman populace who gathered in the Coliseum to watch the brutal sports of the arena that they must seek the assassin they needed to track down their royal victim, so the conspirators of 1789 knew that it was to the South that they must look for that sombre ferocity which the light-hearted Parisians lacked, and in the sun-baked regions of Italy and Provence, where a dagger-thrust is still but the everyday ending to a quarrel, they found the terrible instruments that they required.

Thus side by side the work of reformation and the work of revolution had gone forward, and whilst the deputies of the people were assembling the leaders of insurrection were likewise mustering their forces.  It was a race between the two—who was to be first in the field ? those who desired to build up or those who sought only to destroy ?  Revolution won the day, and on the 27th of April the first outbreak occurred in Paris.

The victim of this extraordinary riot was a certain wallpaper manufacturer of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine named Réveillon, who had recently been chosen elector for the Tiers État in opposition to the Orléaniste candidate.  According to certain historians “ the rumour went round ” that Réveillon had spoken slightingly of working-men at the electoral assembly, but Montjoie states that this accusation was definitely proclaimed through the streets by a horde of the brigands dragging with them an effigy of Réveillon, and calling out to the people that he had said a workman could live quite well on fifteen sous a day.

This device of inventing a phrase and placing it in the mouth of any one they wished to offer up to popular fury was regularly adopted by the agitators in all the earlier riots of the Revolution, and often succeeded in completely deceiving the people.  In the case of Réveillon, however, the calumny was palpably absurd ;  the paper-maker was well known and respected in the Faubourg ;  he himself had started life as a working-man, and when he had made his fortune resolved that his employés should never know the hardships he had endured.  Not one of his workmen was paid less than twenty-five sous a day, and during the recent severe winter he had kept them all on at full pay although unable to give them work.  The inhabitants of the Faubourg knew better, therefore, than to believe the calumny against their benefactor, and refused to riot.  The agitators and their allies the brigands were consequently obliged to resort to force in order to raise a mob.  Montjoie, who was an eye-witness of the whole affair, and whose account is confirmed in nearly every point by other reliable contemporaries, states that “ these ruffians went into the factories and workshops and compelled the workmen to follow them.  This method of swelling a mob of insurrection . . . was adopted throughout the whole revolution.  To begin with, about fifty rioters, men or women, surround the first person they meet on their way, two of the rioters hold him tightly under the arms and carry him off against his will ... by this means, when the troop has arrived on the battle-field, its numbers alarm those against whom it is directed.  On this occasion the horde of brigands was increased by all the workmen they had enrolled against their wills.”^[1]

By this laborious method a disorderly mob was collected who marched to Réveillon’s house in the Rue de Montreuil, which, on arrival, they found to be surrounded by a cordon of troops.  The street being thus rendered impassable the crowd was held up, but at this opportune moment the Duc d’Orléans happened to drive past on his way to the race-meeting at Vincennes, where his horses were running against those of the Comte d’Artois.  He stopped his carriage, got down, spoke a few words to the rioters, and then drove on again.  The duke afterwards admitted his appearance on the scene, but explained it by saying that his intention was merely to soothe the people, and that the words he had spoken were “ Allons, mes enfants, de la paix :  nous touchons an bonheur.”  The exhortation did not, however, have the effect of dispersing the mob, which continued to besiege the house of Réveillon until the evening, when the Duchesse d’Orléans in returning from Vincennes passed by the Rue de Montreuil, which was still barricaded by the troops.  Out of respect for the duchess—whom no one associated with her husband’s intrigues—the soldiers immediately opened a way for her, and thereupon the mob, seeing their opportunity, burst through the same passage and fell upon the house of Réveillon, which they proceeded to pillage and destroy.

Three more regiments were now sent to the scene of action, and the officers called upon the invaders to retire.  The order was repeated three times without effect, the rioters replying only with a hail of stones and tiles that they hurled from the housetop on the soldiers, killing several.  Then by way of warning a few shots were fired into the air by the troops, and this time the mob retaliated with still more formidable missiles in the shape of roofbeams and immense blocks of stone torn from the invaded building.  So at last the soldiers, finding pacific methods of no avail, opened fire on the housetop, carrying death and destruction into the ranks of the rioters—“ the unhappy creatures fell from the roofs, the walls dripped with blood, the pavement was covered with mutilated limbs.”  The survivors took refuge inside the house and prepared to carry on the siege, but the troops entered with fixed bayonets, and by dint of hand-to-hand fighting succeeded finally in clearing the premises and ending the riot.

Montjoie afterwards visited the wounded and questioned them on the motives that had inspired their actions :  “ Unhappy one, what were you doing there ? ”  And one and all made the same reply, “ What was I doing there ?  I went, like you, like everyone else, just to see.”  But one poor wretch dying in agony exclaimed, “ Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, must one be treated in this way for twelve miserable francs ? ”  He had, in fact, exactly twelve francs in his pocket, and the same sum was found on many of the other rioters.^[2]

Meanwhile Réveillon himself had succeeded in escaping during the tumult and fled for refuge to the Bastille, where he remained under the protection of the governor, De Launay, until he could venture out again in safety.  Compensation was made him by the King for his ruined industry.

Such was the Affaire Réveillon which historians are fond of describing as mysterious and inexplicable.  Yet contemporaries of all parties admit that it was engineered by agitators ;  the only question on which they differ is, “ By whom were these agitators employed ? ”  The revolutionaries according to their usual custom reply, “ The Court.”  The Court and aristocracy, they solemnly assure us, deliberately provoked the riot in order to find an excuse for firing on the People !  Later on we shall find the aristocrats accused of burning down their chateaux for the same purpose.  The suggestion is too ludicrous to be taken seriously.  Why should the Court wish to provoke a riot against itself ?  Why should a mob raised by aristocrats reproach Réveillon with being a friend of aristocrats ?  Why should the Court incite popular fury against a law-abiding citizen and a loyal subject of the King ?  Above all, if the Court wished for an excuse to use force against the people, why did they not hasten to use it ?  Why was every conciliatory method resorted to before force was employed ?

That the Affaire Réveillon was the work of the Orléaniste conspiracy no one who brings an impartial mind to bear on contemporary evidence can possibly doubt ;  the presence of the duke, and it is said also of Laclos, amongst the crowd, the fact that the riot was carried on to the cry of “ Vive le due d’Orléans ! ” and even “ Vive notre roi d’Orléans ! ”^[3] is surely proof enough of the influences at work.  Talleyrand—who well knew the intricacies of the Orléaniste intrigue—definitely stated that it was organized by Laclos, whilst Chamfort, himself a member of the conspiracy, admitted to Marmontel that the movement was financed by the duke.  “ Money,” he said, “ and the hope of plunder are all-powerful with the people.  We have just made the experiment in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, and you would not believe how little it cost the Due d’Orléans to get them to sack the manufactory of the honest Réveillon, who amidst these same people was the means of livelihood for a hundred families.  Mirabeau cheerfully asserts that with 100 louis one can make quite a good riot.”^[4]

What was the Orléanistes’ object in singling out Réveillon as a victim ?  The defeat of their own candidate at the elections was certainly disconcerting to their projects, but it is evident that there was a still more definite reason for their animosity.  The Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where Réveillon’s manufactory was situated, had an entirely working-class population, whilst the Faubourg Saint-Marceau was the centre of destitution.  These two poor and populous quarters of the city were the strongholds of the agitators ;  popular movements never originated there, but were devised at Montrouge or the Club Breton, worked up at the Palais Royal, whence they spread to the Faubourgs and produced the desired explosion.  By this means the Faubourg Saint-Antoine became simply the echo of the Palais Royal.  But an influential agent was needed in the district, and Montjoie asserts that Réveillon was therefore approached by the Orléanistes with the view of enticing him into the conspiracy.  These overtures were met, however, with an indignant refusal by the honest paper-maker, and the post was offered to the rough and brutal brewer Santerre, who accepted it with alacrity.  From this moment “ General Mousseux ”—as Santerre was nicknamed by the people on account of the frothy beer he manufactured—became an intime of the Due d’Orléans, driving about Paris with him in his cabriolet, dining with him at cabarets,^[5] and whilst referring to the people as “ vile brigands and rascally rabble,”^[6] scattering amongst them the gold with which the duke provided him.  It is easy, therefore, to understand that Réveillon with his three to four hundred well-paid and contented workmen, in the very quarter where the agitators were exerting every effort to sow discontent, proved highly obnoxious to the conspirators, and the destruction of the paper factory was hardly less necessary to their designs than the destruction of that other building in the same district—the chateau of the Bastille.  The factory and the fortress must therefore both be destroyed before the agitators could depend on the Faubourg to carry out their designs unchecked.

The Affaire Réveillon thus served a double purpose, for it had not only cleared the ground of one obstacle, but it had prepared the way for the removal of the other ;  it was, in fact, an admirable rehearsal for the attack on the Bastille, it had enabled the conspirators to test the efficacy of their methods for assembling a mob, and if it had ended in defeat they realized that they had but to overcome the loyalty of the troops in order to ensure the success of the further venture.  As this book will show, every one of the great popular tumults of the Revolution was preceded by some such abortive rising—the 14th of July by the 27th of April, the 6th of October by the 30th of August, and the 10th of August 1792 by the 20th of June.  On each of these occasions the agitators, finding it impossible to rouse the people to the required pitch of violence, were obliged to cast about for fresh methods to achieve their ends.

It will be seen, therefore, that any account of the Siege of the Bastille must begin with its prelude in the Affaire Réveillon.  From this moment the conspirators never relaxed their efforts to corrupt the troops and to undermine the royal authority.  In order to understand how they accomplished their purpose we must follow their movements not only in the city of Paris but in the States-General that met at Versailles on the 5th of May, a week after the Affaire Réveillon.

THE WORK OF REFORM

It is a common device of pro-revolutionary writers to represent the National Assembly (into which the States-General were transformed on June 17) as divided into two opposing camps formed by revolutionary leaders who desired reforms and by reactionaries who opposed them.  According to this theory the delay in framing the Constitution was caused merely by the recalcitrance of the noblesse and clergy in relinquishing their privileges.  But if we study the reports of the debates that took place in the Assembly we shall find that the real obstructionists were the revolutionary deputies.  For in the Assembly, as in the city of Paris, two of the great conspiracies had their representatives—the Orléanistes led by Mirabeau and including Barnave and the two Lameths, also the duke himself and his boon companions the Due de Biron and the Marquis de Sillery, and the Subversives who consisted in a herd of quarrelsome nonentities, of which Robespierre was the typical representative.^[7]  These two revolutionary factions, far from representing democracy, were concerned solely in furthering their own designs.  For since not a single cahier had expressed dissatisfaction either with the reigning dynasty or with the monarchy, the faction that wished to replace Louis XVI. by the Due d’Orléans and the faction that wished to destroy the monarchy were both equally opposed to the people’s wishes.  The election of these members as representatives of the people had therefore been secured on false pretences, and their attitude from the outset was necessarily one of duplicity and imposture.  Unable to avow their real policy lest they should be disowned by their constituents, they adopted a method which effectually delayed the work of reform—that of diverting attention from the real issues at stake by perpetual quibbles over matters of no importance.

It was against these revolutionary obstructionists far more than against the reactionary portion of the noblesse that the true reformers had to contend.  Now the party which advocated true reform was represented by several very able and enlightened men—Jean Joseph Mounier, a magistrate from Dauphine, noted for his integrity and love of justice, Pierre Victor Malouet, the Comte de Virieu, the Comte de Lally Tollendal, and the Comte de Clermont Tonnerre.  This party, known as that of the “Royalist democrats ” and later as the “ Constitutionals,” represented in reality the cause of true democracy, and their royalism resulted solely from the fact that in the person of Louis XVI. they saw, as did the people, the surest guarantee of liberty and justice.  “ The majority of the people,” says Bouille, “ were attached to this party, as also all the municipalities of the kingdom and the Gardes Nationales.  The plan of the leaders was to establish a democratic monarchy that they called ‘ a royal democracy.’ ”  If we refer again to the cahiers we shall find that this policy was exactly in accord with the unanimous desires of the nation, and we shall then recognize the fundamental error of regarding the Revolution as the movement for reform carried to excess.  Reform and revolution were two totally distinct movements, and not only distinct but directly opposed to each other.

Since, in all assemblies, those who make the most noise are those that most readily obtain a hearing, the Tiers État allowed itself to be dominated by the two contentious factions, and the voice of reform was drowned by floods of futile verbiage.  So, although revolutionary writers depict the people of France at this crisis as on the verge of starvation and “ groaning under oppressions,” we have only to consult the Moniteur to find that during the first four weeks after the opening of the States-General not one word was spoken in the hall of the Tiers État on the subject of the famine or the sufferings of the People.  When at last after a month it was suggested, not by the Tiers État but by the clergy, that the Assembly should turn its attention to the question of the people’s bread, the proposal was received with a howl of execration by the revolutionary factions.  “ It was just like the clergy ! ” to try by these means to divert attention from the union of the orders !  “ The clergy should be denounced as seditious ! ”  Robespierre in a violent diatribe demanded why the clergy, if they were so concerned for the people’s welfare, did not sell all they possessed to supply their needs.^[8]  The speech was as senseless as it was unjust ;  the liberality of the clergy in the matter of relieving distress had been unbounded, and, as everybody knew, the famine was not caused by lack of funds but by the difficulty of obtaining and circulating grain.  But this was the point of all others on which the revolutionary factions were the most anxious to avoid inquiry, and their complicity with the monopolizers is evident from the debates that took place on the subject of monopoly.  Now, if ever, was their opportunity for publicly denouncing the “ aristocrats ” they accused of cornering the grain, but far from substantiating these charges their policy was invariably to suppress all discussion of the question.  Thus, as M. Louis Blanc in a rare fit of candour admits, “ the sacred question of feeding the people was lost to sight,” and “ the Assembly in a way passed over social misery and the hunger of the people to other subjects.”  These subjects were, of course, inevitably party quarrels in general, and the “ Union of the Orders ” in particular.

This is not the place to discuss the vexed question of a single chamber ;  much was to be said for it, much against it.  The true democrats of the Assembly undoubtedly desired it on the ground that no reforms could be effected if the noblesse and clergy were enabled to obstruct them.  Arthur Young considered this unreasonable.  “Among such men, the common idea is that anything tending towards a separate order, like our House of Lords, is absolutely inconsistent with liberty ;  all which seems perfectly wild and unfounded.”

Whether the union of the three orders was advisable or not, one thing is certain—that the revolutionary factions did everything in their power to prevent it taking place by their aggressive attitude towards the nobility and clergy.  But the great objection to the union of the three orders lay in the fact that the Tiers État insisted on admitting strangers indiscriminately to their debates, with the result that the most frightful confusion prevailed, and that the deputies, instead of expressing their real convictions, were tempted to talk to the galleries in order to win popularity.  “ Learn, sir,” said the deputy Bouche to Malouet in a speech on May 28, “ that we are debating here in the presence of our masters ! ”

The revolutionary leaders took care to ensure support from the galleries, and a great part of the audience was their own claque, composed of Paris idlers and ruffians in their pay, whom they sent for to intimidate their adversaries, and who, before long, not content with applauding sedition, expressed their disapproval by boos and hisses.  What assembly, however democratic, could continue to debate under such conditions ?^[9]

So great was the confusion into which the revolutionary factions succeeded in throwing the Assembly that Louis XVI. finally resolved to intervene, and announced his intention of holding a Séance Royale.  For this purpose it was necessary to make use of the hall of the Tiers État, the “ Salle des Menus Plaisirs,” which, being the largest of the three, was the only one capable of containing the deputies of all three orders, and had therefore been used for the meeting of the States-General.  Accordingly the Tiers were informed that the hall must be closed to debates for two days only,^[10] and in order to avert ill-feeling the halls of the noblesse and clergy were closed likewise.  The announcement was received without a murmur by the “ privileged orders,” but the Tiers, furious at the royal edict, repaired to the “ tennis court ” close by and held an indignation meeting, where, at the instigation of Mounier—who afterwards bitterly repented his action—they swore not to separate until they had framed the Constitution.

Regardless of this act of open insubordination Louis XVI. appeared at the Seance Royale on June 23^[11] and announced his intentions to the Assembly.  In dignified yet touching words he besought the representatives of the people to carry on the work of reform he had inaugurated ;  he reminded them that the States-General had been assembled for nearly two months, yet had not been able to agree on the preliminaries of their work ;  he appealed to their love for their country, to their traditions as Frenchmen, to cease from dissensions and work together for the common good.  “ I owe it to myself to put an end to these disastrous differences ;  it is with this resolution that I have gathered you around me as the father of all my subjects, as the defender of the laws of my kingdom.”

Since it was essential, without further delay, to meet the demands of the people, the King proceeded to enumerate the reforms that, acting on the royal prerogative, he proposed to introduce.  These were, above all, the equality of taxation and abolition of the pecuniary privileges of the noblesse and clergy ;  further, the total abolition of the taille, of corvées, francs-fiefs, lettres de cachet, mainmorte, and personal charges, greater liberty of the press, the mitigation or even the abolition of the gabelle, and the restriction of capitaineries or gamelaws.

Thus of his own accord the King had redressed the principal grievances of the Old Régime ;  he refused, however, to abolish all the feudal rights of the noblesse and clergy, which he held not to be his to do away with.  This sacrifice was therefore left to the two orders to make themselves, and they made it voluntarily six weeks later.  The King’s speech ended with these significant words :

“ You have heard, messieurs, the result of my inclinations and my views . . . and if by a fatality far from my thoughts you abandon me in so great an enterprise, alone I will accomplish the welfare of my people, alone I shall consider myself as their true representative ;  and knowing your cahiers, knowing the perfect accord that exists between the general wishes of the nation and my benevolent intentions . . . I shall walk towards the goal with all the courage and firmness that it inspires in me.”

What could this mean ?  One thing only.  Those two ominous phrases had made the King’s intentions clear—“ alone I will accomplish the welfare of my people, alone I shall consider myself as their true representative.”  In other words, the King intimated that if the Tiers État did not cease its quarrels and “get to business,” he would dissolve the States-General and carry out the work of reform himself.

What wonder that the King’s discourse was received in gloomy silence by the Tiers ?  What wonder that the factions trembled in their seats ?  What wonder that Orléanistes and Subversives alike feared for those fortunes they had hoped to build on public confusion ?  What wonder that Mirabeau, seeing the ministry he coveted vanishing into space, rose in wrath to utter his famous “ apostrophe ” ?  The King had left the hall, and De Brézé, the master of ceremonies, declared the sitting ended, when Mirabeau, who exactly a week before in supporting the royal veto had stated, “ I could imagine nothing more terrible than the sovereign aristocracy of 600 persons who to-morrow might declare themselves immovable,” now insolently defied the King’s order with the words, “ We will only leave our places by the force of the bayonet ! ”

So ended this sitting that might have laid the foundations of French liberty for ever.  The thing that the revolutionary factions dreaded more than any other threatened to occur—the regeneration of the kingdom was to be accomplished peacefully and the monarchy established on a free and constitutional basis.  If any further proof were needed that the work of the revolutionary factions was actively opposed to the work of reform, it is to be found in this one undeniable fact that, throughout the whole Revolution until the fall of the monarchy, every concession made by the King to the desires of the People, every step in the work of the reform, was the signal for a fresh outbreak of revolutionary fury.

Accordingly the immense reforms of the Seance Royale, far from bringing a peaceful settlement of the crisis, were followed by renewed scenes of violence.  Two days later the Archbishop of Paris, beloved by all the true people for his benevolence and the uprightness of his life, was attacked by a band of hired rioters as he was leaving the Assembly, and only escaped with his life owing to the speed of his horses and the courage and presence of mind of his coachman.

The fact that four days after the Séance Royale the noblesse and clergy, in obedience to the King’s command, settled the burning question of a single chamber by joining the Tiers État, did nothing to allay the fermentation the revolutionaries had succeeded in creating.  If, as the Tiers État had declared, the refusal of the noblesse to concede this point had been the only obstacle to the work of reform, why did this work not proceed now that the obstacle had been removed ?  On the contrary, the Tiers, once they had the noblesse and clergy at their mercy, showed themselves more aggressive than ever and in no way disposed to discuss peaceably the regeneration of the kingdom.  True, a “ committee of subsistences ” was formed for dealing with the question of the famine, but as it consisted almost entirely of Orléanistes, including the Duc d’Orléans himself, nothing was done to relieve the distress of the people, and the famine continued its ravages.

THE HOTBED OF REVOLUTION

Whilst these scenes were taking place at Versailles the agitators of Paris, in close touch with the revolutionary factions of the Assembly, had been busy stirring up insurrection.  Night and day the dusty garden of the Palais Royal was filled to overflowing ;  no longer merely a haunt of vice, it had now become a political arena—a sort of Trafalgar Square and Burlington Arcade combined—where every device was employed to play upon the passions of men—women, wine, the lust of gold, envy, hatred, and revenge.  At the little tables outside the cafes idlers gathered in heated debate ;  under the long arcades, where the marchands de frivolités displayed their wares, painted women of the town walked arm-in-arm attracting with bold glances the soldiers who passed by ;  in the gambling hells the rattle of the dice and the clink of coin continued far into the night, and under the trees cheap-jack politicians with rolling eyes and furious gestures stirred the people to violence.  With these mob orators noise was of the first importance, and working themselves up into convulsions of revolutionary frenzy they shrieked invectives against the aristocrats and the Court, or yelled foul blasphemies on God and religion.

Most violent of all was the Marquis de St. Huruge, an ex-convict, whose stentorian voice seemed indefatigable ;  above the heads of the crowd his white hat could be seen afar, a rallying point for disorder, whilst with an immense cudgel, manipulated like a conductor’s baton, he roused or soothed the passions of his auditors.  Philippe d’Orléans, looking down on this scene from his windows at the end of the long square, had reason to congratulate himself on the vast machinery that the genius of Choderlos de Laclos had set in motion.  Recently a number of new recruits had been added to the conspiracy, of which the most important was a young journalist from Guise, Camille Desmoulins—discovered by Mirabeau—who tempted the greed of the populace with promises of booty to be wrested from the nobility and clergy :

“ The brute is in the trap, then kill it ! . . . Never was richer prey offered to the conqueror !  Forty thousand palaces, hotels, and chateaux, two-fifths of the wealth of France, will be the price of valour ! ”^[12]

The services of several new agitators had also been enlisted—the comedian Grammont, a man of extraordinary ferocity, with, as we shall see later, a literal “ taste for blood ” ;  a convict from San Domingo known as Fournier l’Américain, Stanislas Maillard, a future director of the September massacres, and one woman whose wit and daring was to prove an immense acquisition to the cause.^[13]

Anne Terwagne of Mercourt was a Belgian demi-mondaine and an old friend of the Duc d’Orléans when the Revolution broke out.  Several years before she had been introduced to him in London by the Prince of Wales, and it was to the duke she owed her rise to fortune, for on her return to Paris she became a brilliant courtesan with jewels, carriages, and horses, and under the name of “ Comtesse de Campinados ” travelled about the Continent with various rich protectors.^[14]  The “ Comtesse ” was in Rome when the States-General met, but the gathering of the revolutionary storm brought her hurriedly back to Paris, where, adopting “ Théroigne de Méricourt ” as her nom de guerre, she threw herself into the cause of her old benefactor, the Duc d’Orléans.  Théroigne was far from resembling the “ unfortunate female ” burning to avenge her wrongs on a corrupt society, who masqueraded under her name through the pages of Carlyle, for it was with the most corrupt portion of society that she now identified herself.  Small and fragile, with brilliant black eyes, an impertinent retrousse nose, and “ a waist that a man could encircle with his ten fingers,” Théroigne at her salon in the Rue de Bouloi reigned as a queen of the demi-monde, assembling around her the leaders of the Orléaniste conspiracy, of which the Abbé Sièyes was her particular idol.

The rôle played by courtesans in the earlier stages of the Revolution has never been properly estimated by historians ;  but for the co-operation of these women, from Théroigne de Méricourt down to the humblest fille de joie, it is doubtful whether the great scheme of the Orléanistes—the defection of the army—could ever have been realized.  The French Guards, the gayest and most essentially Parisian regiment in the army, were habitual frequenters of the Palais Royal, and thus became the allies of the courtesans who lodged in the surrounding houses and haunted the arcades ;  in some cases the soldiers played the part of souteneurs, sharing the incomes of the filles de joie, and these incomes being now largely increased by the bounty of the duke, both reaped the golden harvest sown by the conspirators.  By this means the French Guards, who had stood firm at the Affaire Réveillon, were gradually turned from their allegiance.  Towards the end of June, the regiment having been confined to barracks for insubordination, three hundred broke loose and paraded the streets of Paris, finally presenting themselves at the Palais Royal, where they received a rapturous reception from the courtesans and were regaled with wine and good cheer.

This open revolt at last spurred the authorities to action and eleven of the ringleaders were imprisoned in the Abbaye.  Immediately a yell of indignation went up from the Palais Royal, and an army of brigands, led by Jourdan, with Maillard as his aide-de-camp and Théroigne de Méricourt as Amazon, set forth to deliver the “ victims of despotism.”  With clubs and hatchets the doors of the Abbaye were broken down, and all the prisoners—not only the deserters but a number of criminals—were let loose in the streets.  Once more the Palais Royal received the rebels ;  a magnificent supper was spread, whilst bonfires and fireworks turned night into day.  Yet even after this outbreak the King was persuaded to pardon the insurgents.  It is the custom of historians, whether Royalist or Revolutionary, to accuse Louis XVI. of weakness.  This charge, brought by those who believe that a king should be the ruler and not the servant of his people, is certainly consistent, but for believers in the sovereignty of the people to accuse Louis XVI. of weakness is both unjust and illogical.  Louis XVI. carried out the principles of democracy to their utmost conclusion ;  he believed that he existed for his people, not his people for him.  “ Despotism,” says the democratic Bailly, “ had no place in the King’s character ;  he never desired anything but the happiness of his people ;  this was the only means that could be employed to influence him—a less kind-hearted king, cleverer ministers, and there would have been no revolution.”  As long, therefore, as the mob orators inveighed against the Court, and the agitators incited the people to rise against his own authority, the King refused to put down sedition by force ;  only when the people turned on each other he held it his duty to save them from themselves.  When at last the scenes of violence taking place at the Palais Royal had reached such a pitch that no law-abiding citizen could venture inside the garden, the King was placed in the frightful dilemma of having to decide whether to bring out troops to restore order, and, as at every crisis in the Revolution, he found himself torn between conflicting counsels.  On the one hand the so-called democrats of the Assembly represented the iniquity of opposing the “ sovereign will of the people,” on the other hand the noblesse and clergy protested that it was “ a cruel derision thus to confound the people it was necessary to restrain with those it was necessary to protect,” and therefore urged the King to order out troops for the defence of the town.  So great, indeed, was the alarm of the citizens that by the end of June the commons of Paris began to inaugurate a garde bourgeoise for protection against the brigands.  Since the assembling of the troops round Paris has been habitually accepted as the principal reason for the Revolution of July, this point is important to remember.

The King finally decided to employ the army for the defence of the town ;  and as it was essential to guard against further defection, two regiments of Swiss and German auxiliaries were included, partly because these men were especially amenable to discipline, but mainly because their ignorance of the French language rendered them less liable to corruption by the agents of the Palais Royal.^[15]  The circumstance of their nationality, however, afforded a fresh pretext for stirring up the crowd—“ foreign legions to be employed against the nation ! ”  Yet the revolutionaries did not hesitate to welcome these foreigners into their own ranks when by their usual methods of women, wine, and money they succeeded in seducing them from their allegiance to the King.  A German hussar mounted in the ranks for the defence of French citizens was a “ foreign mercenary ” ;  the same hussar drinking with the courtesans of the Palais Royal to the downfall of the French monarchy was a man and a brother.  This throughout the Revolution, as we shall see, was the “ patriotism ” of the leaders.

The presence of any loyal troops, whether foreign or otherwise, was naturally calculated to thwart the designs of the conspirators, for, apart from the opposition they offered to in surrection, the troops acted as a guard to the convoys of grain intended for the capital.  The Maréchal de Broglie, the Baron de Bézenval, and the Prince de Lambesc had proved untiring in their efforts to protect the wagons of corn from the onslaughts of the brigands that lay in wait round Paris, and for this reason had become odious to the agitators.^[16]

The mob orators of the Palais Royal therefore set to work to stir up a fresh panic.  “ Vast hordes of foreign soldiers were to be marched against the capital to massacre the citizens—the Palais Royal would be given over to pillage—the city was to be bombarded with red-hot cannon-balls and everything put to fire and sword.  Meanwhile at Versailles the National Assembly was to be blown up by mines laid beneath the floor.”  This wild farrago of nonsense was believed not only by the ignorant populace of Paris, but was seriously repeated by the deputies themselves.  Mirabeau at the Assembly, working on their alarms, exerted all his energy to fan the flame of insurrection :

“ When troops advance from all sides, when camps are formed around us, when the capital is besieged, we ask ourselves with astonishment, ‘ Does the King doubt the fidelity of his people ?  What means this threatening display ?  Where are the enemies of the King and State that must be subdued ?  Where are the plotters that must be restrained ? ’ ”

This whilst the Palais Royal was a hotbed of sedition, when “ almost every day produced some act of violence,”^[17] when the citizens of Paris themselves were arming for purposes of selfprotection !

The tirade was a masterpiece of hypocrisy and cunning ;  no one knew better than Mirabeau the necessity for maintaining order, no one realized more keenly the horrors of anarchy, and no one was less truly democratic.

The King’s reply to the demands of the deputies for the withdrawal of the troops was brief and to the point :

“ No one is ignorant of the disorders and scandalous scenes that have taken place repeatedly in Paris and Versailles under my eyes and those of the States-General.  It is necessary that I should employ all the means within my power to restore and maintain order in the capital and its surroundings.  It is one of my principal duties to guard public safety.  These are the motives that led me to assemble troops round Paris, and you can assure the States-General that they are intended only to repress or rather to avert such-like disorders, to enforce the law, even to assure and protect the liberty that should reign in your deliberations. . . . Only evilly-disposed persons could mislead my people as to the true motives for the precautionary measures I have taken.  I have invariably sought to do all that I could to contribute to their happiness, and I have always had reason to believe in their love and loyalty.”

That the King was absolutely sincere in making these assurances was afterwards proved by the trial of Bézenval, the commander of the Swiss Guard.  In January 1790 the Commune of Paris, at the instigation of the Orléanistes, arraigned Bézenval before the tribunal of the Châtelet for “ having entered into a conspiracy formed against the liberty of the French people, of the National Assembly, and particularly of the city of Paris ” in the preceding July.  No proof whatever of a conspiracy was forthcoming ;  on the contrary, it was proved by documentary evidence that the intentions of the Ministry and of M. de Bézenval “ were the most pacific and paternal ” ;  the letters produced “ manifested the plan of this officer for guarding the provisionment of Paris, for which purpose the troops were assembled, and that, far from any design to destroy the citizens, they had been assembled to protect them.”  They were necessary also “ to repress the brigands who had already caused disorders in Paris and who might be plotting further disorders.”  These facts having been proved Bézenval was acquitted, and, in spite of the protests of Marat, the Moniteur itself recognized the justice of the decision :  “ The information taken was immense, but nothing criminal was discovered against the defendant and he was acquitted.  It would be necessary to have very strong proofs to suspect a perfidious collusion between a respected municipality and an esteemed tribunal only for the purpose of deceiving the populace concerning pretended offences of which the most minute investigation has been unable to prove the reality.”^[18]  That the troops were therefore intended for no aggressive purpose is certain, and the necessity for assembling them is now recognized by enlightened French historians.^[19]

The King’s speech had the effect of allaying public anxiety, and Mirabeau thereupon set immediately to work on a new address that would stir up fresh discontent.^[20]

To Louis XVI. the situation now became completely bewildering.  Content to do his duty according to his lights, he could not understand why his actions were perpetually misconstrued by the people, he could not guess the existence of the influences brought to bear on their minds by the agitators who made it their business to avert popular satisfaction at every concession to the people’s desires.

Why did none of the Royalist democrats in the Assembly enlighten the King on the true state of affairs ?  That they knew of the Orléaniste conspiracy is certain, for they afterwards described the efforts made by the duke’s supporters to secure their co-operation—overtures that were all indignantly repulsed.  Mounier and Bergasse were approached by Mirabeau,^[21] Virieu by Sillery,^[22] and both conspirators met with almost identically the same reply :  “ Understand, monsieur, that if any one here were to dare to call M. le due d’Orléans to the throne in the place of the King, I would stab him with my own hand ! ”  Lafayette, whose first enthusiasm for the Revolution had raised hopes in the minds of the conspirators, proved no less intractable, for if he cared little for the King he detested Orléans, and to the suggestion that a price having been set on his head and on that of the duke by the Court he would do well to join forces with him, Lafayette coldly replied that “ the Due d’Orléans was nothing to him, and that it was needless to form a party when one was with the whole nation.”^[23]

But instead of merely rejecting these advances, why did not these men use their immense influence to quell the intrigue ?  We cannot believe that they lacked courage, since later on they faced the full tide of revolution to support the tottering monarchy ;  why then did they wait until it was too late ?  The only explanation seems to be that at this crisis they believed the Orléaniste conspiracy to be incidental to the Revolution ;  they recognized its existence but failed to realize its extent, and feared that in crushing it they might arrest the whole revolutionary movement which they still held to be necessary to the regeneration of the kingdom.  In a word, they were visionaries, and at times of national crisis visionaries are of all men the most dangerous ;  intent on the pursuit of unattainable ideals they shut their eyes to realities, and instead of facing danger prefer to ignore it.

Most culpable of all was Necker—Necker whom both the King and Queen had trusted to steer the ship of state to safety.  From the beginning his only consideration had been popularity, his only policy to temporize.  His method of dealing with the financial crisis had consisted in raising perpetual loans ;  in the matter of the famine Arthur Young declared that “ his edicts had operated more to raise the price of corn than all other causes together,” and though having made this initial mistake he apparently did his best to repair it by untiring efforts to feed the people, he shrank from taking the most effectual step towards this end—that of exposing the monopolizers.

The attitude of Necker admits only of two explanations—either he was in league with the Orléanistes or he was afraid of them.  In either case his conduct was contemptible, as contemporaries of all parties agree.  It is a strange fact that, although Necker is the only demagogue of the period who has never found a panegyrist—except in his own daughter, Mme. de Staël—it was the King’s discovery of his incapacity, which all the world now acknowledges, that has been accepted as an adequate pretext for the Revolution of July.

By the beginning of this month Louis XVI. finally realized that Necker must go and a strong ministry be formed if the impending crisis was to be averted.  Accordingly he dismissed his ministers and nominated in their place De Breteuil, De Broglie, La Galaiziere, and Foullon.

Joseph François Foullon was an old commissary of ’74 who had grown grey in the service of the army.  His large fortune, attributed by the revolutionary leaders to speculation or monopoly in grain, resulted from the emoluments of his office and from his marriage with a Dutch heiress.^[24]  It is evident that Foullon was unpopular with the people, yet no proof is forthcoming that he had ever treated them with harshness ;  on the contrary, during the preceding winter he had spent no less than 60,000 francs in providing work for the peasants of his province, “ not wishing to humiliate them by charity.”^[25]  A stern man, however, and a believer in discipline, Foullon came forward at this juncture to offer the King his advice on the situation in the form of two alternative schemes by which he believed the Revolution might be averted.  In the first he expressed himself plainly on the Orléaniste conspiracy ;  he advised that the duke and his accomplices amongst the deputies of the Assembly should be arrested, and that the King should not be parted from his army till order was re-established ;  in the second he suggested that the King should identify himself with the Revolution before its final explosion, that he should go to the Assembly, demand the cahiers himself, and then make the greatest sacrifices in order to satisfy the true desires of the people before the sedition-mongers could turn them to the advantage of their criminal designs.^[26]

This proposal of the new minister throws an important light on the Revolution of July, for according to Madame Campan it reached the ears of the Orléanistes by means of the Comte Louis de Narbonne and Madame de Staël, and naturally explains their fury at the change of ministry and also their animosity to Foullon.  Whichever of the two schemes were followed their doom was equally certain, since a peaceful settlement of the crisis would have proved no less fatal to their designs than the more rigorous measure of their own arrest.

It is evident that they were aware of Necker’s impending dismissal several days before it actually took place, and immediately in the midnight council of Montrouge a scheme of insurrection was planned.  The advance of the troops and the departure of Necker were to be made the pretexts for stirring up the people ;  with that superb capacity for eating their own words which is the true art of demagogy, Necker, whom they had hitherto overwhelmed with their sarcasms and openly accused of monopolizing the grain, was to be represented to the people as their one hope of salvation, and in the panic that would follow on his dismissal the people—“ that foolish herd ” that, as Chamfort said, “ good shepherds could drive as they pleased ”—were to be worked up to revolt.  Then the Duc d’Orléans, profiting by the general confusion, was to be made lieutenant-general of the kingdom, if not raised at once to the throne.  “ It only depended on himself,” said Mirabeau, who admitted the whole scheme later to Virieu ;  “ his part had been arranged for him (on lui avait fait son thème) ;  the words he had to use had been prepared.”^[27]

Mirabeau rose triumphantly to the occasion.  Hitherto he had frankly disparaged Necker, referring to him as “ the Genevese penny-snatcher ”^[28] (le grippe-sou genevois) or “the clock that always loses,” and on the eve of his dismissal had already prepared a speech for the Assembly accusing him of complicity with the famine.  But now that Necker’s dismissal was to be made a pretext for insurrection, Mirabeau, like the gigantic humbug that he was, declared that “ we can only regard with terror the abyss of misfortune into which the country will be dragged now that the exile of M. Necker, so long desired by our enemies, has been accomplished.”^[29]

Already on the 9th of July the agitators of the Palais Royal had begun to alarm the people concerning the fate destined for their idol.  “ Listen to me, citizens ! ” cried a mob orator who had succeeded in collecting a crowd around him ;  “ we have assembled here in order to declare to you that we shall regard as a traitor to the country any one who shall make an attempt not only on the life but on the ministerial office of M. Necker, whom we intend to make permanent minister of the nation, and since our King, though good and confiding, is incapable of governing his kingdom, we nominate M. le duc d’Orléans lieutenant-general of the kingdom ! ”^[30]

The proposition does not seem to have been received with great enthusiasm, and the agitators merely succeeded in producing in the people a state of mind aptly described by M. Louis Madelin as a crise de nerfs.  Already they had sufficient causes for alarm—the growing fear of famine, the brigands that surrounded them, the assurances of the Palais Royal orators that the King’s troops were closing in on them for the purpose of massacre, and now, following on all these terrors, came the fresh alarm that Necker was to be dismissed, and the country involved in bankruptcy and ruin.  What wonder that the unhappy people were thrown into a condition bordering on hysteria ?

THE 12TH OF JULY

The state of the weather further added to the excitement of the Parisians, for the cold spring had been followed in July by a burst of almost tropical heat, a circumstance that seems always to have reacted on the minds of the populace, since nearly every great day of tumult during the Revolution in Paris was unusually hot.  Sunday morning, the 12th of July, the day after Necker’s departure, was torrid ;  the sun poured down from a cloudless sky on to the crowds that from an early hour had filled the garden of the Palais Royal.  Already at nine o’clock a vague rumour had reached the city that the worst had happened, that Necker was dismissed, and as the panic news passed from mouth to mouth the terrified citizens hurried to the Palais Royal to ascertain the truth.  By midday the garden was so packed from end to end that no more standing room was available, and people climbed on to the trees until the branches bowed beneath their weight ;  even the mob orators, after vainly attempting to pile up chairs and tables for their platforms, were reduced to hanging from the boughs of the lime-trees whilst they harangued the crowd.  “ This agitation,” says Montjoie, who looked on at the scene, “ was terrifying.  One must have seen it to be able to form any idea of it.”  At every moment a fresh rumour was circulated, adding to the general consternation ;  now a messenger, wild-eyed, rushing into the square and crying out that he had just arrived from Versailles where the deputies were being massacred ;  now a panic-monger announcing that the Due d’Orléans was exiled—thrown into the Bastille—condemned to death ;  now warnings shrieked to the terrified people that the troops were marching on the city to put everything to fire and sword.  The seething multitude that filled the garden and arcades was like a sea lashed by a hurricane ;  at each new alarm a long deep moan arose from thousands of throats, a moan that now grew into a muffled roar of fury, now died away into the silence of consternation.  Then suddenly rumour gave way to certainty.  A fresh messenger from Versailles announced the terrible news—Necker was dismissed, had already taken his departure, the country’s doom was sealed ;  and at this confirmation of their fears the maddened people turned on the bearer of ill-tidings and were with difficulty prevented from drowning him in one of the fountains of the garden.

It was now twelve o’clock and the sun had reached the meridian, beating down on the dense mass of heads and on the burning glass of the Palais Royal.  Suddenly a strange thing happened.  The glass mirror reflected the sun’s rays on to the cannon of the palace and, setting light to the charge, fired it with a terrifying report, and so “ the sun himself gave the first signal for the Revolution.”^[31]

The effect of this circumstance on the minds of the people was indescribable.  The wildest scene of confusion began.  Men haggard with fear, women pale and tearful rushed hither and thither ;  the streets were filled with bands of citizens, silent and distraught, hurrying like frightened sheep they knew not whither.  Unhappy people driven desperately to and fro by the men who had made themselves their shepherds !

Yet the shepherds did not find their work too easy ;  even sheep refuse at moments to be driven in the right direction, and still the people, for all their panic, showed no inclination to carry out the designs of the agitators and begin the revolution in earnest.  Camille Desmoulins afterwards described his desperate efforts that afternoon to stir the people up to violence ;  some, indeed, were so misguided as to cry, “ Vive le Roi ! ”  “ In vain I tried to inflame their minds,” says Camille ;  “ no one would take up arms ! ”

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when at last Camille, coming out of the Café de Foy where the Orléaniste leaders forgathered, encountered several young men walking arm-in-arm and shouting, “Aux armes !  Aux armes ! ”  Immediately he saw his opportunity and joined them ;  in an instant he was hoisted up on to a table in front of the café, from which position he afterwards related that he delivered an eloquent harangue :

“ Citizens, you know that the nation had asked for Necker to be retained, for a monument to be raised to him, and he has been driven away !  Could you be more insolently defied ?  After this stroke they will dare anything, and for to-night they are meditating, have perhaps arranged, a Saint-Barthélemy of patriots !  To arms !  To arms !  Let us take green cockades, the colour of hope ! ”  He waved a green ribbon, fastened it in his hat, and instantly the crowd, tearing down leaves from the trees above their heads, adorned themselves with the same emblem.  Then, striking an attitude, Camille pointed a quivering finger at the crowd, pretending to see amongst them the agents of the police.  “ The infamous police are here !  Let them look at me !  Let them observe me !  Yes, it is I who call my brothers to liberty ! ”  He raised a pistol in the air.  “ At least they shall not take me alive, and I shall know how to die gloriously ;  only one misfortune can befall me—that of seeing France become again enslaved ! ”

Such is Camille’s version of his tirade, but it seems probable that much of it was inspired by esprit d’escalier and never found utterance, for none of his auditors record it in these words.  Montjoie, in fact, declares that Camille’s performance consisted merely in standing on the table waving a pistol and calling out “ Aux armes ! ” making horrible grimaces the while to overcome his stutter.

At any rate his efforts were rewarded, for he was hauled down from the table and carried in triumph on the shoulders of the crowd, who now at last responded to the cry of insurrection, and arming themselves with sticks, hatchets, and pistols poured into the streets thirsting to do battle with the menacing legions—the legions that meanwhile remained peacefully encamped in the Champ de Mars.

This was undoubtedly the great moment to which the Orléaniste conspiracy had been leading up.  The people’s minds had been prepared by the alarms concerning the fate of the duke, and were therefore more than usually disposed in his favour as the victim of despotism.  If he had now come forward and shown himself to the frenzied crowd it seems probable that he could have placed himself at the head of the movement.  But at this crucial moment the duke was not forthcoming, for he had gone off at eleven o’clock that morning with his mistress, Mrs. Elliott, to spend the day at his chateau of Raincy, and did not reappear until the evening.  Was his absence arranged by the conspirators to give colour to their stories of his exile or imprisonment ?  Or did he disappoint his supporters by refusing to be present ?  We know that the pusillanimity of the duke at every crisis made him the despair of his party, and that this fear, moreover, was founded on a very real danger—that of assassination.  When he fainted in the Assembly that summer day only a few weeks earlier, and his coat was unfastened to give him air, had it not been discovered that he wore beneath it no less than four waistcoats, including one of leather, to protect him from a dagger-thrust ?^[32]  It is possible, therefore, that at the last moment his courage failed him ;  but at any rate his absence was foreseen by the conspirators, for the duke himself being unavailable they led the crowd to the waxwork show of M. Curtius in the Boulevard du Temple, where—by mere coincidence, Orléaniste historians would have us believe—the busts of the Duc d’Orléans and Necker lay ready to hand.

Camille Desmoulins’ subsequent remarks on this incident show that he certainly did not believe in the theory of coincidence, but recognized very clearly the design of the faction—from which, like every other Orléaniste, he became anxious to disassociate himself.  “ Will any one make me believe,” he wrote four years later, “ that when I mounted a table on the 12th of July and called the people to liberty, it was my eloquence that produced that great movement half an hour later, and that made the two busts of Orléans and Necker spring from the ground ? ”^[33]  The procession with the two effigies had therefore been premeditated, and Mirabeau, hardly less an enfant terrible than Camille in giving away the secrets of his party, confirms this statement.  Referring to the 12th of July in his answer to the Procedure du Châtelet, he attempted to prove the duke’s innocence on this day by remarking, “ When his bust was paraded he hid himself.”^[34]  Then the duke knew that his bust was to be paraded ?  Otherwise where was the virtue of his disappearance from the scene four hours earlier ?  Again, why should he hide himself ?  Why not, if he was innocent, have come forward boldly and denied all complicity with the movement ?  Thus from Orléaniste evidence alone it is obvious that the incident of the two busts was a ruse devised by the conspirators, with the idea of putting popular feeling to the test ;  it had been resolved to try the people with the duke’s effigy, and if, as seemed not unlikely, it met with a hostile reception, nothing but wax would suffer ;  if, on the other hand, it was received with acclamations, the duke was to be recalled from his retreat and placed at the head of the movement.  The effigy of Necker was, of course, merely a cover to the real design—“ to parade only one,” remarks Prudhomme shrewdly, “ would have been clumsy.”^[35]  Accordingly the two busts, wreathed in black crepe and crowned, were carried in procession through the streets whilst Orléaniste agents, posted in the crowd, cried out, “ Hats Off !  The country is in danger ;  here are its restorers.  Vive D’Orléans ! ”  Then, as the people failed to take up the cry, the agitators went amongst them repeating, “ Call out ‘ Vive D’Orléans ! ’ ”  For answer some asked wonderingly, “ What does all this mean ? ” and the agitators replied, “ Why, don’t you understand that Monsieur le duc d’Orléans is to be proclaimed king and M. Necker his prime minister ?  Come, cry with us ‘ Vive D’Orléans !’ ”^[36]  Even at the Palais Royal the busts met with a no more enthusiastic reception.  On arrival in the garden one of the men bearing the effigies, pointing them out to the people, called aloud, “ Is it not true that you want this prince for your king, and this good man for his minister ? ”  But only a few voices answered, “ We wish it ! ”^[37]

After this discouraging response the procession made its way by the Boulevards to the Place Louis XV., where it encountered a regiment of the Royal Allemands under the Prince de Lambesc, who rode up with drawn sword and scattered the rioters.  During the fray the bust of Orléans fell into the gutter ;  a linen-draper’s assistant, Pepin by name, rushed to its rescue, and in his attempt to pick up the mutilated effigy was wounded in the leg and fell bleeding to the ground.^[38]  Raised in the arms of sympathizers, Pepin was carried off to the Palais Royal to exhibit his wounds ;  he was not, however, too seriously wounded to harangue the multitude.  Dr. Rigby, an eyewitness of the scene, describes “ the whole mass agitated afresh by the appearance of a man with a green coat whose countenance and manner bespoke the utmost consternation.  ‘ To arms, citizens,’ he cried, ‘ the Dragoons have fired on the people, and I myself have received a wound,’ pointing to his leg.  This acted like an electric shock.”

Meanwhile the Prince de Lambesc and his troops made their way towards the Tuileries across the great Place Louis XV, which at this hour was filled with holiday-makers returning from their Sunday afternoon festivities in the Bois de Boulogne and the neighbouring villages ;  through this crowd the troops advanced at foot pace, gently pushing aside those who obstructed their passage, but the people, infuriated by the sight of the soldiers, greeted them with a hail of stones.  Gouverneur Morris, who at this moment arrived upon the scene, thus describes the incident :  “ The people take post among the stones which lie scattered about the whole place, being then hewn for the bridge now building.  The officer at the head of the party (a body of cavalry with their sabres drawn) is saluted by a stone, and immediately turns his horse in a menacing manner towards the assailant.  But his adversaries are posted in ground where the cavalry cannot act.  He pursues his route, and the pace is soon increased to a gallop, amid a shower of stones.  One of the soldiers is either knocked from his horse, or the horse falls under him.  He is taken prisoner and at first ill-treated.  They fired several pistols, but without effect ;  probably they were not even charged with ball.  A party of the Swiss Guard are posted in the Champs Élysées with cannon.”

The Prince de Lambesc, having thus reached the entrance of the Tuileries, crossed the swing bridge into the garden with his troops, but was again immediately assailed by a hail of stones, chairs, and bottles that the crowd, assembled on the terraces at each side of the bridge, flung down on the regiment.^[39]  In spite of these outrages the soldiers still refrained from retaliating, and in order to avoid bloodshed the prince ordered the troops to evacuate the garden, whereupon the crowd rushed forward and attempted to cut off their retreat by closing the swing bridge.  One old man, a schoolmaster named Chauvet, in the act of performing this manœuvre, was slightly injured by the Prince de Lambesc, who struck him with the flat of his sword, causing a wound that was speedily healed by means of a brandy compress.^[40]

Such was “ the brutal charge ” of the “ ferocious Prince de Lambesc,” retailed with so much virtuous indignation by revolutionary writers.  It is interesting to compare the evidence of eye-witnesses, of Gouverneur Morris, of Montjoie, and of those who appeared later at the trial of the Prince, with the version circulated that night in Paris by the leaders of the agitation.  Dr. Rigby, who unfortunately was not present, thus records the account given him by Jefferson :

“ About seven in the evening Prince de Lambesc, who commanded a regiment of German Dragoons, entered the Tuileries ... and made its gay crowds of citizens the objects of his attack, enforced his commands by a sudden discharge of musketry.  The terrified multitude fled in all directions, and the middle of the square was suddenly cleared of all but a feeble old man, whose infirmities denied him the power of running.  Against this single defenceless individual the cowardly Prince lifted up his arm, and either desperately wounded or killed him with one stroke of his sabre.”

This story—every word of which was afterwards disproved, and is now believed by no responsible historian^[41]—was loudly proclaimed at the Palais Royal, and the alarm was followed by messengers rushing into the square frantically declaring that citizens were being massacred in the garden of the Tuileries, and dragoons withdrawn swords were crushing women and children beneath their horses’ feet.  These fearful tidings had the effect that for seven hours the mob orators had striven in vain to produce, of arming the mob.

“ From this moment,” says Dr. Rigby, “ nothing could restrain the fury of the people ;  they burst forth into the streets calling ‘ Aux armes !  Aux armes ! ’  Every house likely to afford any was immediately entered.  The gunsmiths’ shops were ransacked, and in a very short time the principal streets were filled with a tumultuous populace, armed variously with guns, swords, pikes, spits, and every instrument of offence and defence.”  This disorderly band, joined by numbers of deserters from the Gardes Françaises, now marched on the King’s troops in the neighbourhood of the Place Louis XV.  Let us consult the revolutionary account of the day to discover the manner in which these bloodthirsty soldiers received the onslaught.

“ Assembled in force near the depot on the old boulevard,” say the Two Friends of Liberty, “ they (the armed mob) advance in good order, attack a detachment of the Royal Allemand, and at the first discharge cause three horsemen to bite the dust.  These, although assailed, endure the fire of their adversaries without replying, and double back on the Place Louis XV, where was the main body of their regiment.”^[42]

This, then, was the conduct of the troops accused by the revolutionary leaders of carrying out a “ massacre of Saint-Barthèlemy ” amongst the citizens !  What further proof is needed of the King’s sincerity in assuring the people that these forces had been summoned merely to protect them ?  Nothing could exceed the heroic forbearance of these much-tried men, and those historians who would have us believe that their attitude was owing to the fact that they sympathized with the people and therefore could not be induced to use their arms against them, calumniate not only the officers in command, but the people themselves.  Is it conceivable that the people could be so cowardly as to insult and attack men they knew to be their friends ?  All contemporary evidence points to the one conclusion—the men were acting under orders from their officers, and the officers, in their turn, were obeying the King’s command—at all costs to avoid bloodshed.  The order given to Bézenval, and produced later at his trial, is proof positive of this assertion “ Give the most precise and moderate orders to the officers in command of the detachment you employ that they shall act only as protectors, and shall have the greatest care to avoid compromising themselves or engaging in any combat with the people unless they show themselves inclined to cause fires or commit excesses or pillage that would endanger the safety of citizens.”^[43]

It was a frightful position for the men in command, and Bézenval, in deciding to withdraw the troops to the Champ de Mars, was evidently only doing what he conceived to be his duty.  Royalists who reproached him for not adopting stronger measures, and revolutionaries who laughed at his retreat, were alike incapable of appreciating his dilemma.  “ If I had marched the troops into Paris,” he wrote afterwards, “ I should have started civil war on one side or the other ;  precious blood would have been shed without any useful result. . . .”  True, but how much innocent blood might have been spared that flowed hereafter ?  Civil war with all its horrors cannot equal the horror of leaving the mob to execute its own vengeances unrestrained, for a rioting mob, like a woman in hysterics, needs firmness to bring it to its senses ;  too great solicitude but weakens its power of self-control, and leaves it a prey to frightful convulsions even more dangerous to itself than to those against whom its fury is directed.  Paris, which through that feverish Sunday had worked itself up into a nervous crisis that nothing but iron discipline could have allayed, was now, through the mistaken humanity of those in command, left unprotected, and at the withdrawal of all lawful authority rapidly passed into a state of frenzied panic.  To all law-abiding citizens, the night that followed was a night of terror, for, at the signal of insurrection, the hordes of brigands, that since the Affaire Réveillon had been kept in reserve by the leaders to create fresh scenes of violence,^[44] came forth armed with sticks and pikes and paraded the streets, pillaging the armourers’ shops, and threatening to burn down the houses of the aristocrats.  The Quinzaine Mémorable puts the number of these professional bandits at 20,000, Droz at no less than 40,000, and when we remember the terror created in the provinces of France only a few years ago by half-a-dozen motor bandits—Bonnard and his gang—it is easy to imagine the horror and confusion inspired by thousands of such ruffians suddenly let loose and armed in the streets of an undefended city.^[45]

To these hired bands were added all the dregs of the Faubourgs—drunkards, wastrels, degenerates, prototypes of the modern Apache, whose native love of violence needed no incentive ;  prostitutes who tore the ear-rings from the ears of passers-by, “ and if the rings resisted, tore the ears ” ;  smugglers who saw their chance of booty and led the crowd to burn down the barriers and defraud the customs.^[46]  Where in all this pandemonium were “ the people ” to be found ?  No good citizens were abroad that hot and terrible night, the true “ people,” the peaceful bourgeois, the quiet and laborious working men and women of Paris, hid themselves in their humble dwellings no less fearfully than the aristocrats in their hotels of the Faubourg Saint-Honore, whilst all the while the tocsin sounded drearily and the cry of the rioters, “ Des armes et du pain ! ” rang out in the darkness.  “ During that disastrous night,” say the Two Friends of Liberty, “ sleep descended only on the eyes of children ;  they alone reposed in peace whilst their distracted parents watched over their cots.”

THE 13TH OF JULY

Morning dawned on a demented city ;  wild bands still paraded the streets, and were only prevented by good citizens, who mingled with them, from committing horrible excesses.  One horde, however, succeeded in breaking into the convent of Saint-Lazare, “ the asylum of religion and humanity,” where, disregarding the entreaties of a white-haired priest who threw himself on his knees and begged them to spare the sacred precincts, they proceeded to pillage and destroy the library, laboratory, and pictures, and finally descending to the cellars broke open the casks of wine, gorging themselves with the contents.  Next day no less than thirty unfortunate wretches, both men and women, were carried dead or dying from the scene.

The news of this senseless outrage burst on Paris “ like a clap of thunder ” ;  terrified tradesmen shut their shops, and good citizens once more barricaded themselves behind closed shutters.  “ To the cries of fear,” say the Two Friends of Liberty, “ are added the tumultuous cries of several lawless bands, bold-eyed, and ready to dare and do anything, who rove through the streets and public places, and in whose hands the weapons they carry seem even more dangerous than those of the enemies (i.e. the King’s troops !).  The moment was the more perilous since all the springs of public administration were broken, and Paris seemed abandoned to the mercy of whoever chose to make him self master.”^[47]  On the 13th of July the worst fears of the people were thus not caused by the King’s troops but by the brigands, and further, the removal of all lawful authority added immensely to the panic.

When at ten o’clock of this dreadful morning the tocsin of the Hôtel de Ville rang out again it was, therefore, in no sense a signal of revolution, but a summons to all good citizens to take up arms in defence of their lives, their wives and children, and their property.^[48]  In this moment of real and immediate peril the imaginary menace of the King’s troops was forgotten, and men of all classes, rich men, nobles, bourgeois and working-men alike, hastened to the Hôtel de Ville to demand arms for their defence.  Inevitably, however, a number of brigands and emissaries of the Palais Royal, who already that morning had burst into the Hôtel de Ville and carried off by force 360 guns, now mingled with the law-abiding citizens, and threw the authorities into a frightful predicament.  They wished to arm the milice bourgeoise, yet not to reinforce the brigands.  Bézenval, appealed to later in the day, flatly refused, declaring he could give up no arms without an order from the King ;^[49]  Flesselles, the provost-marshal, adopted less courageous tactics and attempted to put the people off with fair words, temporizing as a father might do with a sick and fretful child that asked for a razor as a plaything :  “ My friends, I am your father, you will be satisfied,” he told the frenzied multitude, and sent them in all directions to seek arms where none were to be found.  For this he has been bitterly condemned by historians, yet what was the unfortunate Flesselles to do ?  An officer in charge of an arsenal suddenly confronted with a heterogeneous crowd of civilians clamouring for firearms, and threatened with death if he gives a direct refusal, must possess a very ready wit if he can hold his own diplomatically.  Yet so far was Flesselles from wishing to thwart the good citizens of the milice bourgeoise, that he sent to Versailles for an order authorizing their equipment.

Versailles meanwhile was ill-informed of the progress of events in Paris.  The Assembly, persisting in its assertion that the tumult was caused solely by the presence of the troops, continued to send deputations to the King demanding their removal from the environs of Paris, whilst the King, seeing in the troubles of the capital only the work of the brigands,^[50] held this to be no moment for the withdrawal of armed force, and repeated his former statement that the troops were necessary for the defence of the citizens.  Whilst heartily approving the formation of the milice bourgeoise,^[51] he did not consider this body of armed civilians sufficient to cope with the situation unsupported by regular troops, and therefore insisted on keeping the troops within reach of the city ready to come to the rescue if required.  At the same time he replied to Flesselles’ message with an order authorizing the organization and equipment of 12,000 men for the milice bourgeoise, and naming the officers he desired to command these patriotic legions.  “ What amazes us,” remarks M. Louis Madelin, “ is that this correspondence between Flesselles and the Court should have appeared next day, even to calm minds, as ‘ an unfortunate connivance sufficient to justify the massacre of the magistrate by the people.’ ”^[52]

Before the King’s reply to Flesselles had reached the capital, however, the citizens had already formed the milice bourgeoise, and instead of 12,000 men enrolled 40,000, which they later increased to 48,000.  These patriotic civilians at first showed themselves perfectly capable of maintaining order.  All contemporaries, whether Royalist or revolutionary, speak of the admirable way in which the milice bourgeoise dealt with the situation.  “ The magistrates assembled at the Hôtel de Ville, and the inhabitants of the several districts,” writes Dr. Rigby, “ were called together in the churches to deliberate upon the measures proper to be taken. . . . It was resolved that a certain number of the more respectable inhabitants should be enrolled and immediately take arms, that the magistrates should sit permanently at the Hôtel de Ville, and that committees, also permanent, should be formed in every district of Paris to convey intelligence to the magistrates and receive instructions from them.  This important and most necessary resolution was executed with wonderful promptitude and unexampled good management.”

By the evening of the 13th order was, therefore, once more restored throughout the greater part of the city, but unfortunately the ringleaders were as usual left unimpeded to continue the work of insurrection.  A few obscure wretches, mere tools of the conspirators, were hanged, having been handed over to justice by the men who had set them in motion, and who now proceeded to work up a fresh agitation at the Palais Royal and other revolutionary centres of the city.  Once more the menace of the troops served as a pretext for inflaming the minds of the people, and the fact that throughout the day these same troops had remained completely inactive, had allowed the citizens to arm without resistance and were even now preparing to withdraw from the neighbourhood of Paris, did not prevent this absurd alarm from gaining ground.

Amongst the most energetic of the panic-mongers on this day was a new recruit to the Orléaniste conspiracy, a young lawyer of peculiarly frightful appearance named Georges Jacques Danton, whose eloquence consisted in a form of noisy badinage that rendered him immensely popular at street corners.  His massive head and somewhat Kalmuck features lent themselves singularly well to the violence of his oratory, as, now chaffing, now thundering, he kept his audience in good humour—that pleasure-loving Parisian audience that he, essentially the man of pleasure, understood so well.

Another lawyer, Lavaux, entering the convent of the Cordeliers, the centre of one of the new districts of Paris, found a mob orator in frenzied tones calling the citizens to arms in order to resist an army of 30,000 men who were preparing to march on Paris and massacre the inhabitants.  Lavaux was surprised to recognize in this panic-monger his old colleague, Danton, and, never doubting his sincerity, took advantage of the orator pausing for breath to assure him that these fears were unfounded—he himself, Lavaux, had just returned from Versailles, where all was quiet.  “ You do not understand,” Danton answered ;  “ the sovereign people have risen against despotism.  Be one of us.  The throne is overturned and your employment is gone.  Think it well over.”^[53]

There was in Danton a certain frankness that disarmed criticism ;  he made no secret of the fact that in the Revolution he saw less the fulfilment of any political aspirations than the opportunity for pleasure and profit.^[54]  “ Young man,” he said later on at the Cordeliers to Royer Collard, “ come and bellow with us ;  when you have made your fortune you can then follow whichever party suits you best.”^[55]

That Danton was definitely financed by the Duc d’Orléans was not only the belief of his political adversaries but the general opinion of Paris.  When in August 1790 he sought election as a “ notable ” of the Constitutional Commune of Paris, he was reported to be “ a paid and perfidious agent of the Duc d’Orléans,” and rejected for his venality by forty-two out of forty-eight sections of Paris.^[56]  Even M. Louis Madelin, who admires Danton, is unable to clear him from this charge :  “ The most generally received opinion was that the Duc d’Orléans supported Danton.  If we admit that he was paid, it is there, I think, that we must seek the principal payer.”  And he adds this sentence that in a word sums up Danton’s political creed :  “ Danton was all his life an Orléaniste.”^[57]  After such an admission it is idle to accredit Danton with either patriotism or disinterestedness ;  that any man who loved his country could sincerely believe he was working for its good in attempting to replace the honest and benevolent Louis XVI. by the corrupt and despotic Duc d’Orléans is inconceivable.  The popular conception of Danton as a patriot burning with zeal for liberty and the Republic is therefore based on a fallacy ;  Danton was neither a democrat nor a Republican, but a paid agitator of the party who would have instituted a far worse despotism than France had ever before endured.

Already on this 13th of July a triumph had been secured by the conspirators ;  the green cockade was discarded as representing the colours of the Comte d’Artois, and red, white, and blue, the livery of the Duc d’Orléans, substituted as the emblem of liberty.  The fact that these were also the colours of the town of Paris was a fortunate coincidence that served to veil the manœuvre.^[58]

Throughout the night that followed the leaders of the conspiracy were at work organizing the insurrection of the morrow.  A plan of attack on the Bastille had already been drawn up,^[59] it only remained now to set the people in motion.  This was to be effected by circulating the news early in the morning that the troops were advancing on the city and that the citizens were to be bombarded from within by the cannons of the Bastille.  The members of the “ committee of electors ” at the Hôtel de Ville were now denounced as traitors to the country,^[60] and the death of Flesselles was ordained.^[61]  A further list of proscriptions included the Comte d’Artois, the Prince de Condé, the Maréchal de Broglie, the Prince de Lambesc, the Baron de Bézenval, Foullon and Berthier,^[62] and the people were to be made to carry out these vengeances of the demagogues by the same means that had been employed in the case of Réveillon, that is to say, by affixing to each victim a calumny calculated to rouse the fury of the mob.  Thus Broglie, Bézenval, and Lambesc, whose real crime in the eyes of the demagogues was to have ensured the safe transit of supplies into Paris, were to be accused of plotting with “ the Court ” to massacre the citizens ;  Foullon, for whose condemnation we have already seen the reason, was to be declared to have said that “ if the people had no bread, they could eat hay ” ;  his son-in-law, Berthier, whose untiring energy in combating the famine had seriously obstructed the designs of the conspirators, was to be denounced to the people as “ a monopolizer of grain,” and in the case of Flesselles, whose sole crime was loyalty to the King, a forged note was prepared in order to inflame the minds of the populace.  For the murder of the Comte d’Artois no pretext was needed ;  the principal, perhaps the only truly reactionary member of the Royal family, he was already too unpopular to require calumniating, and a placard offering a reward for his head was boldly affixed at the street corners.^[63]

It will be seen, therefore, that the motives that inspired the demagogues were totally different from those acted on by the people, and this fact explains the confused and frequently abortive nature of the succeeding revolutionary tumults.  The leaders had planned that the mob should do one thing, and the mob, not being in the secret, did another, hence the apparently inexplicable and pointless crimes that took place.  Amongst these, we shall see, was the massacre of the garrison at the Bastille, which had not been ordained by the Palais Royal.

THE 14TH OF JULY

Whilst the panic concerning the approach of the troops was thus being prepared, how were these bloodthirsty legions engaged ?  Bézenval, having waited in vain for orders throughout the whole day of the 13th, decided at one o’clock in the morning of the 14th to retreat to the Champ de Mars and the École Militaire on the other side of the Seine ;  and thus at the very moment that the alarm of their advance on the city was trumpeted to the terrified population, the troops were actually moving away to the distance.  This circumstance might have been expected to refute the false alarm in circulation, but the agitators were clever enough to turn it to their own advantage.  The troops were on the move, they told the people, and though they might appear to be retreating, this manœuvre was only a question of reculer pour mieux sauter—it was evident that De Broglie intended to unite these troops with superior forces in order to make an overwhelming advance on the capital, and reduce it to ashes.  Such was the amazing credulity of the Parisians that this ludicrous story was universally believed and once more threw the city into a state of frenzied panic.  The citizens, who yesterday had flown to arms against the brigands, now prepared themselves to do battle with the bloodthirsty troops of the King.^[64]

The terror and confusion that prevailed throughout the city was indescribable ;  from seven o’clock in the morning of the 14th false alarms succeeded each other without intermission—the Royal Allemand had already encamped at the Barrière du Trône, other regiments had actually entered the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, cannons had been placed across the streets, whilst those on the ramparts of the Bastille were pointing at the city.  “ At the Palais Royal the most violent motions followed each other with terrifying rapidity ;  the most vehement orators, mounted on tables, inflamed the imagination of the audience that crowded around them, and spread itself about the city like the burning lava of a volcano ;  inside the houses were seen the distress of husbands and wives, the grief of mothers, the tears of children :  and in the midst of this universal confusion the tocsin sounded without interruption at the cathedral, at the palace (the Palais de Justice) and in all the parishes, drums beat the ‘ générale ’ in every quarter, false alarms were repeated, and the cry of ‘ To arms !  To arms ! ’  The machinery of war and desolation, convulsive movements, and the sombre courage of despair-such is the horrible picture that Paris presented on the 14th July.”

One might suppose this lurid description to emanate from the pen of an incorrigible reactionary, unable to see in the tumult of the capital the sublime spectacle of a nation rising as one man to oppose tyranny, and representing as agitators those noble orators who called the citizens to arms.  Not at all.  This account is given by no other than the Two Friends of Liberty themselves, who thus ingenuously disclose the methods used by the revolutionaries to create a panic.  For all this terror and confusion, these tears and cries and “ movements of despair,” there was no cause whatever ;  the troops at the Champ de Mars remained completely inactive, the Bastille was utterly unprepared for defence, still less for aggression, and the only soldiers in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine were the increasing numbers of deserters from the army, whilst the one real danger—the brigands—had been disarmed and subdued by the milice bourgeoise.  Thus the whole agitation was the work of the revolutionary leaders who, in order to accomplish their designs, did not scruple to strike terror and dismay into the hearts of the people.  What, indeed, were the “ tears of mothers ” or the “ cries of children ” to cynics such as Laclos and Chamfort, to the members of the councils of Montrouge and of Passy, and the agitators of the Palais Royal, to Danton, Camille Desmoulins, Santerre, and St. Huruge ?  The “ people ” existed to serve their purpose, not to inspire their pity.

But how was an unarmed multitude to carry out the attack on the Bastille ?  The disarming of the brigands by the patriotic citizens the day before had deprived the revolutionary leaders of their most valuable instruments, and, in order to re-arm these ragged legions, it was necessary to drive the population once more to raid the armouries.  This was speedily effected, and in the course of the morning thirty to forty thousand people of all sorts and conditions, with Theroigne de Méricourt in their midst, invaded the arsenal of the Invalides and seized every weapon they could find, whilst the troops in the neighbouring Champs de Mars—obedient to the order not to shed the blood of the citizens—offered no resistance.  “ Famished tigers,” say the Two Friends of Liberty, “ fall less rapidly upon their prey.”  In the struggle several were suffocated, others killed in their furious endeavours to wrest the weapons from each other.  Such were the citizens to whom Flesselles was denounced as a traitor for not delivering arms.

But now the moment had arrived to turn the attention of the people in the direction of the Bastille, for so far the alarm of the pointing cannons had created no popular determination to attack the state prison.  A further incentive must therefore be provided in order to produce the effect desired by the leaders of a spontaneous movement of the people to overthrow the monument of despotism.  For this purpose a fresh rumour was circulated by a bandit posted in the crowd collected in the Place de Grève around the Hôtel de Ville—the arms the people sought had been conveyed to the Bastille, it was there that they must go to find them.  And at this news a roar arose from the excited crowd, and from thousands of throats the cry went up, “ Let us go to the Bastille ! ”

What was the Bastille, that monument of despotism, at whose destruction lovers of liberty all over the world rejoiced ?  A grey stone fortress with eight pointed towers, surrounded by a dry moat and separated by two drawbridges from a gateway opening into the Rue Saint-Antoine.  Over the poor and populous Faubourg it loomed forbiddingly, a mysterious relic of the past, holding within its wall many ancient secrets.  Yet was it the place of horror it has been represented ?  In order to realize how far its evil reputation was merited in its day we must compare it with other prisons of the period.  Now if we consult the report of the philanthropic John Howard on the State of the Prisons all over Europe, published in 1792, we shall find that the prisons of France in the reign of Louis XVI. compared very favourably with those of other countries.  In England, Howard tells us he saw prisoners during the years 1774, 1775, and 1776 “ pining under diseases, expiring on the floors in loathsome cells, of pestilential fevers,” half starved and in rags ;  in some gaols they occupied “ subterranean dungeons, of which the floor was very damp, with sometimes an inch or two of water.”  Even women were loaded with heavy irons.  Many of these unhappy creatures were, moreover, innocent, being detained in prison a year before trial.  When Elizabeth Fry visited Newgate over thirty years later, matters had not improved very appreciably.  All this, however, was due less to deliberate cruelty than to the carelessness that characterized our forefathers, and is not to be compared with the deliberate brutality exercised in German prisons.  Howard, on visiting Germany, was taken down into “ a black torture chamber round which hung various instruments of torture, some stained with blood.  When the criminals suffer the candles are lighted, for the windows are shut close, to prevent their cries being heard abroad.”

In France, Howard found active reforms being carried out in the prison system.  “ The King’s declaration . . . dated the 30th of August 1780, contains some of the most humane and enlightened sentiments respecting the conduct of prisons.  It mentions the construction of airy and spacious infirmaries for the sick ... a total abolition of underground dungeons.”  Howard had, unfortunately, not provided himself with a permit to visit the Bastille, and so was unable to gain admission,^[65] yet in one sentence he sums up the feeling that the state prison inspired in the minds of contemporaries :  “ In this castle all is mystery, trick, artifice, snare, and treachery.”

Imagine an old house where, at the end of a long passage, a black door was to be found, locked and bolted, through which one might not pass, leading into a room that held a secret of some strange and terrible kind, known only to the owner of the house ;  then picture the wild imaginings to which the mystery would give rise, the children hurrying past with bated breath, the servants whispering their suspicions to the village, conjuring up monstrous theories of what was to be found there.

Thus the Bastille at the end of the Rue Saint-Antoine, with its grim portals and its eight grey towers, provided a perpetual matter of speculation to imaginative minds ;  and if at times the preposterously thick doors with their gigantic locks opened to admit the curious, they suspected that much was still concealed from them.  Down below those stone floors, hidden from the light of day, were there not subterranean dungeons, “ the resort of toads, of lizards, of monstrous rats and spiders,” where the victims of despotism “ pined in darkness and solitude ” until the mind gave way, so that when at last deliverance came, the prisoner had passed beyond all human aid ?  Worse still, were there not dreadful torture-chambers, iron cages eight feet long, in which unhappy captives were confined, and, beneath the masonry of those stone walls, the mouldering skeletons of men done to death secretly at dead of night ?  Most gruesome of all was the story of the chambre des oubliettes, a room of outwardly smiling aspect, scented with flowers, and lit by fifty candles.  Here the unsuspecting prisoner was led before the governor and promised his liberty.  But the human monster who presided over the destinies of the captives waited only to see the rapture of his victim before giving a signal at which the floor opened, and the wretched man fell upon a wheel of knives and was torn to pieces.^[66]

Such is the legend of the Bastille, perpetuated by Louis Blanc and Michelet, and in our country by Carlyle and Dickens, but which rests on no shadow of a foundation.  It should be noted that it was not amongst the people that the legend arose ;  “ the people,” says Mercier, “ dread the Châtelet more than the Bastille ;  they are not afraid of the latter because it does not concern them, consequently they hardly pity those imprisoned there.”  Such awe as it inspired in them, such curiosity as it aroused in their minds, had therefore been instilled in them by the men whose wealth or talents or importance entitled them to lettres de cachet—the tickets of admission to the Bastille.  The State Prison, known ironically to contemporaries as the “ Hôtel des Gens de Lettres,” was almost exclusively reserved for people suspected of designs against the State, for conspirators, forgers, writers of obscene books or seditious pamphlets whose lively imaginations threw a lurid light over their experiences.  Of these, the most vehement in their denunciations were Latude and Linguet, both, as M. Funck Brentano and M. Edmond Biré have proved, unscrupulous liars whose testimony is refuted not merely by the statements of other prisoners, but by the still existing archives of the Bastille.

Researches also made by M. Alfred Begis, M. Victorien Sardou, M. Victor Fournel, M. Ravaisson, and M. Gustave Bord have unanimously revealed the fact that under Louis XVI. the Bastille, though dreadful merely as a place of captivity, bore no resemblance to its legendary counterpart.  The damp, dark dungeons had fallen into complete disuse ;  since the first ministry of Necker in 1776, no one had ever been imprisoned there.  All the rooms were provided with windows, and either stoves or fireplaces, good beds, and furniture, whilst the prisoners were allowed to occupy themselves in various ways—with books, music, drawing, and so on—and in certain cases to meet in each other’s rooms for games.  The food was excellent and plentiful ;  many of the menus recorded by prisoners would tantalize the palate of an epicure, and this was so even under Louis XV., when De Renneville, in a pamphlet written after his release with the object of denouncing the Bastille, admitted that “ certain people had themselves imprisoned there in order to enjoy good cheer without expense.”^[67]

Yet, for all these amenities, the abolition of the Bastille as a place of arbitrary imprisonment was undoubtedly desired by the nation, and had been demanded by the cahiers of the noblesse as well as of the Tiers États.  The request was made, moreover, in no spirit of sedition ;  the King was confidently appealed to, in virtue of his well-known humanity, to demolish this relic of bygone tyranny.

As early as 1784 the architect Corbet had published the Plan of a Public Square to the Glory of Louis XVI. on the Site of the Bastille, and this scheme was being openly discussed in 1789.  Moreover, in the Séance Royale on June 23, Louis XVI. had again proposed the abolition of lettres de cachet, thereby, as M. Bire points out, sounding the knell of the Bastille.

The destruction of the Bastille by force was therefore needless from the point of view of the nation as a whole, but necessary to the designs of the revolutionary leaders, firstly, because it deprived the King of the glory of destroying it ;  secondly, because it served as a pretext for an insurrection ;  thirdly, because it exercised a restraining influence over the Faubourg Saint-Antoine ;  and fourthly, because its continued existence was a menace to their personal security.  The State Prison must be demolished instantly if they were to make sure of not expiating their crimes within its precincts.

This was the task the people were to be worked up to by terror to perform.  It is evident, however, that no intention of this kind existed in their minds when the march on the Bastille began.^[68]  On this point all reliable contemporaries are agreed—the idea of “ the people ” rising as one man to overthrow the “ monument of despotism ” is a fiction ;  the greater proportion of the crowd that marched on the Bastille were animated by one motive only—that of procuring arms for their protection.^[69]  “ It was not,” says M. Funck Brentano, “ a question of liberty or of tyranny, of delivering prisoners or of protesting against authority.  The taking of the Bastille was carried on to the cries of ‘ Vive le Roi ! ’  ‘ March,’ said the women to their men, ‘ it is for the King and country ! ’ ”^[70]

* * * * * * * * *

Whilst the honest citizens, animated by no sanguinary intentions, thus prepared to march on the Bastille, what was the disposition of the Governor, De Launay ?  It is amusing to compare the fiction circulated amongst the populace with the reality recorded by the colleagues of De Launay.  “ Despotism,” say the Two Friends of Liberty, “ threatened us from the ramparts of the Bastille.  De Launay, worthy minister of its vengeance, was entrusted with the care of its fearful dungeons, shuddering at the very name of liberty, trembling lest, with the tears of his victims, the gold that was the object of his desires, the price of their torments and of his brutality, should cease the cowardly and avaricious satellite of tyranny had long been surrounding himself with arms and cannons.  Since the insurrection of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine (the Affaire Réveillon) he had been unceasingly engaged in preparations for defence. . . .”^[71]

The truth was that De Launay had reduced the other officers to desperation by his unpreparedness.  In vain Bézenval had warned him that the castle was unfit to resist the attack ;  in vain De Flue, the captain of the Swiss contingent, sent to reinforce the garrison on July 7, urged him to take measures of defence.  “ From the day of my arrival,” says De Flue, “ I learnt to know this man ;  by the meaningless preparations he made for the defence of his post, and by his continual anxiety and irresolution, I saw clearly that we should be ill commanded if we were attacked.  He was so overcome with terror that at night he took for enemies the shadows of trees and other surrounding objects. . . .”^[72]  Even M. Flammermont is obliged to admit the pacific intentions of the Governor :  “ One sees that De Flue cannot understand the weakness of poor De Launay.  For him, a soldier by profession and a foreigner, the besiegers are simply enemies—‘ Feinde ’—this is the word he constantly applies to them ;  whilst the Governor no doubt saw in them citizens whose blood he feared to shed even in the defence of the fortress confided to his care.”^[73]

This tribute from a writer whose sole object is to glorify the besiegers of the Bastille effectually disposes of the theory of De Launay as the instrument of despotism.  In fact, as all evidence proves, he did everything in his power to settle matters by peaceful arbitration.  When at ten o’clock in the morning of the 14th a deputation of three citizens arrived at the Bastille to complain that “the cannons on the ramparts were pointing in the direction of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine ”—a position they had always occupied^[74]—De Launay received them with his customary urbanity and invited them to breakfast with him.  The cannons, he assured them, should be drawn back in their embrasures ;  the embrasures themselves should be boarded over to soothe the alarms of the people.  No injury whatever should be done to the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, and in return he hoped that the inhabitants would refrain from aggression.

The deputies lingered so long at De Launay’s hospitable board that the crowd of citizens who had followed them, and were waiting meanwhile in the outer court, began to grow impatient.  The sight of the cannons being drawn back in their embrasures added further to their excitement, and it was immediately concluded that this movement had been made for the purpose of charging the guns with balls.

De Launay and the three deputies were still at breakfast when a second deputation arrived from the district surrounding the Bastille, headed by M. Thuriot de la Rozière, and again followed by a crowd.  De la Rozière was admitted to the Governor’s apartments opposite the entrance to the courtyard of the prison, and as soon as the three former deputies had departed he addressed De Launay in these words :

“ I come, sir, in the name of the nation and of the country to represent to you that the cannons placed on the towers of the Bastille are a cause of great anxiety and spread alarm throughout Paris.  I beg you to have them taken down, and I hope you will acquiesce with the demand I have been ordered to make to you.”  De Launay may not have been lion-hearted, but to this proposition he had the courage to reply :  “ That is not in my power ;  these cannons have been on the towers from time immemorial and I cannot take them down without an order from the King.  Already informed of the alarm they cause in Paris but unable to be taken off their mountings, I have had them drawn back from their embrasures.”

No governor of a fortress could possibly make a more pacific reply, but it did not satisfy De la Rozière, who now requested De Launay to admit him to the prison.  To this the Governor at first demurred, but finally allowed himself to be over-persuaded by Major de Losme, the most humane and broad-minded of all the officers at the Bastille, known as the “ Consoler of the Prisoners,” and the very antithesis of the despotic De Flue.

The Governor having led De la Rozière over the smaller drawbridge into the courtyard of the Bastille, they found the Swiss Guard, some of the Invalides, and all the officers assembled there, whereupon De la Rozière proceeded to appeal to them “ in the name of honour, of the nation, and of their country, to change the direction of the cannons and to surrender.”

It is difficult here to recognize the “ ferocious De Launay shuddering at the very name of liberty ” :  for at this open defiance of his authority he joined De la Rozière in making the soldiers swear that they would not fire or make use of their arms unless they were attacked.^[75]

De la Rozière, however, not content with this assurance, insisted on wasting more time by going up to inspect the battlements, whilst the people outside grew more and more impatient and excited.  De Launay, who had accompanied him, now looked forth from the heights of the Bastille and saw for the first time the large and threatening multitude that completely blocked the end of the Rue Saint-Antoine and was beginning to penetrate into the outer courtyard of the prison.  At this sight, it is said, the Governor grew pale ;  the thing he had long dreaded had come to pass :  the people were marching on the Bastille.  Was it cowardice that whitened the cheek of the unfortunate Governor ?  It seems unlikely ;  De Launay was provided with formidable measures of defence—“ fifteen cannons bordered the towers, and three field-pieces were placed in the great courtyard opposite the entrance gate presenting a certain death to those bold enough to attack it.  Ammunition, moreover, was not wanting. . . .”  Why, then, should the Governor tremble ?  Could he not, with a few volleys from his guns, sweep both street and courtyard clear of the encroaching multitude ?  This was, however, precisely the course he feared to take, so he found himself in the dilemma that faced all upholders of the royal authority throughout the Revolution—the necessity for repressing violence, coupled with a dread of shedding the blood of the people.  The power was all in their hands, but they feared to use it, and this fear—the outcome of the philosophy of the age, increased by a knowledge of the King’s humanity—paralysed the arm of law and order, and gave to the revolutionaries an immense advantage.  This, then, was the fear that caused De Launay to grow pale, and that, according to De Flue, would have made him surrender the castle had not De Flue and the other officers represented to him that he could not thus betray his trust to his royal master.^[76]

When at last De la Rozière left the castle it was too late to stem the rising tide, and a short half-hour later the armed crowd arrived on the scene.  This crowd that we have already seen setting forth for the purpose of obtaining arms had now, however, been reinforced by other elements, which it is important to distinguish if we would attempt to understand the chaotic movement that followed.

First of all, then, there were the honest citizens who desired arms for their defence ;  secondly, the revolutionary leaders, the ferocious Maillard, Théroigne de Méricourt, and Jourdan, later to be known as “ Coupe-tête,” all determined to accept no pacific measures but to destroy the castle ;  thirdly, the motley crew of “ brigands ” not in the secret of the leaders, thirsting for violence, consisting not only of the aforesaid Marseillais and Italians, but also, according to Marat, of large numbers of Germans,^[77] presumably deserters from the royal troops ;  fourthly and lastly, the crowds of merely curious who longed to explore the innermost recesses of the Bastille, to see for themselves the ghastly torture-chamber, the iron cages and the oubliettes, and bring to light the many nameless and unhappy prisoners lingering forgotten in dark dungeons down below.

This tumultuous and heterogeneous mob, armed with guns, sabres, and hatchets, now surged into the outer courtyard (the Cour de l’Avancée) shouting, “ We want the Bastille !  Down with the troops ! ”

The besiegers were, however, confronted by the raised drawbridge known as the Pont de l’Avancée opening into the Cour du Gouvernement, and beyond that by the second drawbridge leading into the castle itself.  Two men, Tournay and Bonnemere,^[78] thereupon climbed to the roof of the shop of M. Riquet, a perfumer, and by this means reached the wall surrounding the moat of the Bastille.  Sitting astride on the top they managed to work themselves along to the Corps des Gardes by the side of the drawbridge, and the amazing point is that the garrison allowed them to do this without firing a shot, contenting themselves merely with shouting warnings from the battlements,^[79] and this conciliatory attitude was maintained even when the two men proceeded to cut through the chains of the drawbridge “ de l’Avancée,” which fell with a terrific crash, killing one man in the crowd and wounding another.  Instantly the whole mob rushed forward into the Cour du Gouvernement, and now for the first time the garrison, anxious to prevent their attacking the second drawbridge, opened a fire of musketry, scattering the people in all directions, and finally driving them back into the outer courtyard.  This was the incident which gave rise to the legend that De Launay, having let down the drawbridge and enticed the people into the Cour du Gouvernement, treacherously opened fire on them.

Around this treachery—the first of the two with which De Launay was accused during the siege of the Bastille—controversy raged for over a century, but responsible French historians are now agreed that the incident occurred as it is here described.^[80]

The most convincing proof in favour of De Launay lies perhaps in the inexpediency of such a manoeuvre.  If he would not make use of the legitimate means of defence at his disposal, why should he resort to treachery and thereby needlessly enrage the people ?  Had he wished to carry death and destruction into their ranks he had only to fire any of his fifteen cannons from the ramparts.  There was no necessity to entice them within range of musketry fire.

It is easy, however, to understand the misunderstanding that gave rise to the story of De Launay’s treachery.  The rearguard of the crowd, seeing the fall of the drawbridge, the onrush of the people in the front, and then the fire directed on them from the battlements, could not know by what means the drawbridge had been let down, and immediately concluded that the order had been given by De Launay so as to lure the people on to their destruction.  The cry of treachery having once been uttered, the agitators, mingling in the crowd, saw their opportunity to fan the flame of popular fury, and messengers were despatched all over Paris to circulate the news of De Launay’s hideous perfidy.  At the Hôtel de Ville it raised a storm of indignation, and a further deputation was sent to the Bastille to inquire of M. de Launay whether he “ would be disposed to receive into the château the troops of the Parisian militia, who would guard it with the troops already stationed there and who would be under the orders of the town.”  But when the deputation arrived, the fusillade going on between the garrison and the besiegers made it impossible to communicate with the Governor, and in the frightful uproar that now prevailed the white handkerchiefs waved by the deputies in sign of truce passed unperceived.  A second deputation, armed this time with a flag and drum, succeeded, however, in attracting the attention of the Governor and officers on the battlements, who replied by inviting the deputies to come forward, but to persuade the crowd to keep back.  At the same moment a subordinate officer on the ramparts, to prove the good faith of the garrison, reversed his gun in sign of peace, and this example was followed by his comrades, who called out loudly to the crowd, “ Have no fear, we will not fire, stay where you are.  Bring forward your flag and your deputies.  The Governor will come down and speak to you.”

But here another misunderstanding occurred which gave rise to the story of a second treachery on the part of De Launay, for just as the deputies were about to advance, a man in the crowd—obviously an agitator posted there to prevent arbitration—started a fresh alarm that one of the cannons was pointing at the people, and immediately every one took up the cry and urged the deputies not to trust the “ perfidious promises ” of the garrison.^[81]  The deputies thereupon retreated into the Cour de l’Orme and remained standing there for a quarter of an hour, disregarding the shouts of the garrison urging them to advance.  De Launay, now convinced that the signals of peace were merely a ruse to obtain admittance to the castle by treachery, remarked to his officers :  “ You must perceive, messieurs, that these deputies and this flag cannot belong to the town ;  the flag is certainly one that the people have seized and which they are using to surprise us.  If they were really deputies they would not have hesitated, considering the promise you made them, to come and declare to me the intentions of the Hôtel de Ville ! ”^[82]

Then, since the crowd continued to fire at the garrison, the garrison once more returned their fire, and the battle continued with redoubled violence.  The story of this second treachery of De Launay was again circulated through Paris—the Governor, it was said, had replied to the flag of truce with signs of peace and, the deputies having confidingly advanced, the garrison had discharged a volley of musketry, killing several people at their side.  Around this point again controversy has raged, but all reliable evidence proves that the second accusation of treachery was as unfounded as the first,^[83] for on two points all accounts agree—the deputies did not advance and the crowd continued without interruption to fire on the garrison.

Moreover, to this second charge of treachery, as to the first, the same line of reasoning may be applied—what object could De Launay possibly have for needlessly infuriating the people, though still at this stage of the siege he refused to open fire on them from the cannons ?  Further, why should he fire on a deputation when we know from the evidence of his officers that he would have seized any opportunity to capitulate, and that it was mainly at the instance of the Swiss De Flue that he continued the siege ?^[84]  Obviously, as Beaulieu remarks, “ there was no treachery, but only a frightful confusion.”

At the Hôtel de Ville the news of De Launay’s latest perfidy roused a fresh storm of indignation, and the wildest rumours were circulated amongst the crowd assembled in the Place de Grève.  Now, amongst the groups of citizens angrily discussing the situation, there moved a tall young man, who listened eagerly to all that was said, and at last entering into the conversation heard of the “ massacre of citizens ” that was taking place at the Bastille.  This young man was Pierre Hulin, the manager of a laundry on the outskirts of Paris ;  he had come into Paris early that morning on business, and, finding a crowd assembled in the Place de Grève, he joined it at the precise moment that the news of De Launay’s second treachery had set all minds aflame.  Hulin, who was a brave man, unconnected with any intrigue, shared the general indignation, and seeing that his handsome countenance and commanding appearance had evidently found favour with the multitude, he turned and addressed them in these spirited words :

“ My friends, are you citizens ?  Let us march on the Bastille !  Our friends, our brothers, are being massacred.  I will expose you to no chances, but if there are risks to run, I will be the first to run them, and I swear to you on my Honour that I will bring you back victorious or you will bring me back dead ! ”^[85]

The people, taking this courageous and eloquent young man to be at least an officer, immediately rallied around him, and the whole Place de Grève resounded with the cry, “ You shall be our commander ! ”

Hulin accepted and found himself at the head of an army by no means contemptible ;  here were grenadiers of Ruffeville, fusiliers of the company of Lubersac, a host of bourgeois, and three cannons, and these on their way to the Bastille were reinforced by several Invalides and two more cannons.

In this second start for the Bastille there was undeniably a strong element of heroism ;  these men setting forth, burning with indignation at a supposed outrage on their fellow-citizens, are in no way to be confounded with the brigands who had preceded them.  To attack the fortress, which at this moment they honestly regarded as the stronghold of tyranny, belching forth fire and smoke on all those who attempted to approach it, was indeed a brave adventure that required no little personal courage and self-sacrifice.  The fact that all the commotion was based on a misunderstanding does not detract from the gallantry of the enterprise.  The incident is all the more remarkable in that it was the one and only occasion in the history of the Revolution when a crowd was led by a true man of the people, and not by the professional agitators or their tools.  Hulin was a noble and disinterested man, and, as we shall see, proved himself worthy of the confidence the people had placed in him.

This formidable contingent with their five cannons, Hulin marching at the head of the bourgeois, sergeants leading the Gardes Françaises, arrived at the Bastille by way of the Arsenal to find a scene of indescribable confusion.  The crowd, infuriated by De Launay’s supposed treachery, had bethought themselves of a plan for burning down his house by wheeling wagon-loads of straw into the Cour du Gouvernement and setting light to them.  The brigands in the crowd, not content with inanimate objects on which to vent their fury, seized on a pretty girl, Mlle. de Monsigny, the daughter of a captain of the Invalides, whom they took to be the daughter of De Launay, and by signs intimated to the garrison that they would burn her alive if the castle were not surrendered.  The girl, who was little more than a child, fainted with terror, and was dragged unconscious on to a heap of straw.  M. de Monsigny, seeing this from the towers of the castle, rushed to his daughter’s rescue, but was knocked down by two shots from the besiegers, and the horrible crime was only averted by the bravery of Aubin Bonnemère—he who had cut the chains of the drawbridge—and who now succeeded in carrying the girl away to a place of safety.

It is difficult to reconstruct the exact order of events at this point of the siege, but it would seem that the arrival of Hulin and the army with cannons coincided with the setting light to the wagon-loads of straw, and that at this moment the first and only charge was fired from one of the cannons of the Bastille.  According to Montjoie the discharge was made when the garrison perceived the cannons of the besiegers arriving on the scene ;  according to the Two Friends of Liberty it followed on the attempt to set fire to the Governor’s house ;  but on one point all authorities are agreed—the Bastille had fifteen cannons, and during the whole siege one was fired once.^[86]  No further proof is needed of De Launay’s humanity :  had he chosen to make use of the means within his power, even the authors of the Bastille dévoilée are obliged to admit, he could have swept the courtyard clear of assailants :  “ If the platform of the great bridge had been lowered, and the three cannons charged with grape-shot in the courtyard had been fired, what carnage would not have been made ? ”^[87]  But now the artillery of the besiegers being brought into play, the confusion reached its height :  the roar of the cannons and the rattle of musketry mingled with the howls of the mob, whilst the smoke of the burning wagon-loads of straw blinded and nearly suffocated the besiegers.  A brave soldier, Élie, of the Queen’s Infantry, assisted by a “ muscular and intrepid linen-draper, Reole,” at the risk of their lives dashed into the flames and removed the wagons, thereby clearing the atmosphere, but in no way quieting the pandemonium.  On all sides men were falling dead and dying to the ground, but most of these casualties were caused, not by the fire of the Bastille, but by the crowd itself who, not knowing how to load the cannon, were killed by the recoil or were fired on by each other.  Hulin had succeeded, however, in destroying by gunfire the chains of the drawbridge de l’Avancée, whereupon the whole mob pressed forward once more into the Cour du Gouvernement, and two cannons were mounted opposite the second drawbridge leading into the Bastille itself.

This movement seems to have entirely deranged De Launay ;  obliged to choose, and choose immediately, between the shame of surrender and the wholesale massacre of the people by cannon fire, he was indeed between the devil and the deep sea, and it is said that, unable to decide on either course, he now resolved on the desperate measure of setting light to the powder magazine and blowing up the castle.  But two Invalides, Becquard and Ferrand, restrained his hand, thereby saving both besiegers and besieged from total destruction.

One thing is certain, the garrison made almost no defence.  “ I was present at the siege of the Bastille,” says the Chancelier Pasquier, “ and the so-called combat was not serious ;  the resistance shown was practically nil. . . . A few shots from guns were fired (by the besiegers) to which no reply was made, then four or five cannon shots. . . . What I did see perfectly was the action of the soldiers, Invalides and others, ranged on the platform of the high tower, raising the butts of their rifles in the air, and expressing by every means used under such circumstances the wish to surrender.”^[88]

It is evident, as Beaulieu says, that the garrison were divided, the Swiss, with De Flue at their head, urging the Governor to continue the siege, and the Invalides, whose sympathies were with the people, begging him to capitulate.^[89]  At last De Launay, yielding to the entreaties of the latter, ordered two of his men to go up to the battlements with a drum and a white flag of truce.  No flag was forthcoming, but the Governor’s handkerchief was hoisted on a staff, and with this banner the men paraded the towers of the prison for a quarter of an hour.  The people, however, continued to fire, and replied to the overtures of the garrison with cries of “ Down with the bridges !  No capitulation ! ”

De Launay then retired to the Salle de Conseil and wrote a desperate message to the besiegers :  “ We have twenty thousand weight of powder ;  we shall blow up the garrison and the whole district if you do not accept the capitulation.”

In vain De Flue represented to De Launay that this terrible expedient was wholly needless, that the gates of the fortress were still intact, that means of defence were not lacking, that the garrison had suffered the loss of only one man killed and two wounded—the note was handed to a Swiss, who passed it through a hole in the raised drawbridge to the crowd beyond.  The besiegers gathered on the stone bridge at the other side of the moat were at first unable to reach it, but a plank was fetched, a man in the crowd came forward, walked along it, fell into the moat and was killed instantly.  A second man followed—according to one report the, according to another Maillard—and this time the slip of paper was safely conveyed to the people.  At the words, read aloud by the, a confused cry arose, “ Down with the bridges ! ” but whilst some added, “ No harm shall be done you,” others continued to shout, “ No capitulation ! ”  But the answered loudly, “ On the word of an officer no one shall be injured ;  we accept your capitulation ;  let down your bridges ! ”

On the strength of this promise De Launay gave up the key of the smaller drawbridge, the bridge was let down, and the leaders of the people—Élie, Hulin, Tournay, Maillard, Réole, Arné, and Humbert—entered the castle.  The next moment an unknown hand inside the courtyard of the prison lowered the great drawbridge, and instantly the immense crowd poured on to it and with a mighty rush surged forward into the Bastille.  Whose was the hand that did the deed ?  No one to this day knows for certain.  De Launay had not intended admitting the crowd before parleying with the leaders, and it seems probable that the bridge was treacherously lowered by certain of the Invalides who were in collusion with the people.^[90]

If so, they paid dearly for their cowardice ;  for the mob, according to the habit of mobs, did not pause to discriminate, but fell upon the Invalides with fury, leaving the Swiss to escape unharmed.

Meanwhile the and his comrades approached the Governor, who was standing with his staff in the great courtyard dressed in a grey coat, with a poppy-coloured ribbon in his buttonhole, and holding in his hand a gold-headed sword-stick.  According to certain accounts Maillard, or a man named Degain, thereupon seized him, crying out, “ You are the Governor of the Bastille.”  Legris addressed him brutally.^[91]  Marmontel shows a nobler picture of this dramatic moment “ the entered with his companions, all brave men and thoroughly determined to keep their word.  Seeing this the Governor came up to him, embraced him, and presented him with his sword and the keys of the Bastille.”  “ I refused his sword,” the told Marmontel, “ I only accepted the keys.”  Élie’s companions greeted the staff and officers of the castle with the same cordiality, swearing to act as their guard and their defence.^[92]  Hulin, too, kissed the unfortunate Governor, promising to save his life, and De Launay returning the embrace, pressed the hand of Hulin, saying, “ I trust to you, brave man, and I am your prisoner.”

But though these pioneers showed themselves magnanimous, “ those that followed them breathed only carnage and vengeance,” for at the fall of the great drawbridge it was the brigands armed with forks and hatchets who first penetrated into the castle, leaving the soldiers who had carried on the siege at the other side of the moat.  This horrible crowd gathered so threateningly around the Governor that Élie, Hulin, and Arné resolved to lead him out of the castle to the Hôtel de Ville.  At the risk of their lives the little procession started out, the carrying the capitulation on the point of his sword, Hulin and Arné following with De Launay held between them.

Thus began the terrible journey to the Place de Grève ;  fighting every inch of the way, the two heroic men led their prisoner, receiving on their heads and shoulders the blows of the multitude.  All through the seething Rue Saint-Antoine Hulin never left the arm of De Launay ;  struck at, fired at, insulted, he struggled forward ;  once, fearing that the bare head of the Governor exposed him to danger, Hulin quickly covered it with his own hat, but the next instant nearly fell himself a victim to the fury of the populace.  Three times the people tore De Launay from his arms, and three times Hulin wrenched him from their clutches with torn garments and blood streaming from his face.  De Launay, wounded from head to foot, pale but resolute, “ with head held high and a still proud eye,” made no complaint, uttered not a single murmur, only when the crowd had again hurled themselves upon him, and Hulin once more dashing into the fray had caught him in his arms and borne him from their midst, the old man pressed him to his heart and cried, “ You are my saviour.  Only a little more strength and courage. . . . Stay with me as far as the Hôtel de Ville.”  And turning to Élie he exclaimed, “ Is this the safety you promised me ?  Ah, sir, do not leave me.”

But Hulin’s strength was now rapidly failing him.  The interminable journey was almost ended ;  they had reached the Arcade de St. Jean—only forty steps onward to the Hôtel de Ville and safety.  But even as they entered the Place de Grève a furious horde of brigands bore down on the procession, and once more De Launay was torn from the arms of his protectors, whilst this time Hulin, utterly exhausted, sank upon a heap of stones—or, according to another account, was dragged there by the hair and flung down senseless.  When again he opened his eyes it was to see the head of De Launay raised on a pike amidst the savage cries of his murderers.

“ I have seen the Sieur Hulin more than a year afterwards,” writes Montjoie, “ grow pale with horror and shed torrents of tears as he recalled that bloody sight.  ‘ The last words of the Marquis de Launay will always echo in my heart,’ he said ;  ‘ night and day I see him, overwhelmed with insults, covered with blood, and gently addressing his murderers with these words, “ Ah, my friends, kill me, kill me on the spot !  For pity’s sake do not let me linger ! ” ’ ”

Ghastly as was the massacre of De Launay, it was followed by crimes even more glaringly unjust.  The Swiss who, as we have seen, during the siege of the Bastille were the keenest to continue the defence, and to whom most of the firing was due, one and all escaped without injury, but to the Invalides, who had sympathized with the besiegers, the crowd showed no pity.  Three were immediately put to death, and amongst these was Becquard, who had restrained De Launay from blowing up the castle.  The hand that had thus saved the lives of countless citizens was cut off and paraded through the streets, then Becquard himself was hoisted to the fatal lantern.  Three officers also perished, and to make the senseless violence of the day complete, De Flue, who throughout the siege had urged the Governor to greater severity, was allowed to escape, whilst the merciful De Losme was barbarously butchered.

Two former Bastille prisoners, the Marquis de Pelleport and the Chevalier de Jean,^[93] entered the Place de Grève at the moment of De Launay’s death.  Pelleport, seeing that the same fate would befall De Losme, who during his captivity had always been his friend, rushed forward and threw his arms around him.

“ Wait ! ” he cried to the mob, “ you are going to sacrifice the best man in the world !  I was five years in the Bastille, and he was my consoler, my friend, my father ! ”

At this De Losme raised his eyes and said gently, “ Young man, what are you doing ?  Go back, you will only sacrifice yourself without saving me.”

But Pelleport still clung to De Losme, and since he was unarmed, attempted with his hands to keep off the raging multitude.  “ I will defend him against you all ! ” he cried ;  “ yes, yes, against you all ! ”

Thereupon a brigand in the crowd dealt Pelleport a blow with an axe that cut into his neck, and raising the weapon was about to strike again when De Jean flung himself upon him and threw him to the ground.  But De Jean in his turn was assailed on all sides, struck with sabres, pierced with bayonets, until at last he fell fainting on the steps of the Hôtel de Ville.  Then De Losme was massacred, and his head was raised on a pike and carried in procession with De Launay’s.

The remaining Invalides were led through Paris amidst the execrations of the crowd :  twenty-two of these unfortunate old men and several Swiss children in the service of the Bastille were brought to the Hôtel de Ville, where on their arrival a revolutionary elector ^[94] brutally addressed them with these words :  “ You fired on your fellow-citizens, you deserve to be hanged, and you will be on the spot.”  Instantly a chorus of voices took up the cry :  “ Give them up to us that we may hang them ! ”  But the Gardes Françaises, with Élie at their head, interposed, throwing themselves courageously between the Invalides and their assailants.

“ I shall never forget that terrible moment,” wrote Pitra ;  “ the crowd hurling itself upon the prisoners, the Swiss on their knees, the Invalides clasping the feet of Élie, who, standing on a table crowned with laurels, vainly strove to make his voice heard above the tumult, whilst the Gardes Françaises surrounded them, making a rampart of their bodies and tearing them from the hands of those who would have dragged them away.”

So, says Montjoie, “ men of no education, soldiers and rebels, gave a lesson in justice and humanity to the barbarous elector.”

But this mobile crowd, stirred by a word to violence, was also by a word moved to pity.  Suddenly one of the Gardes Françaises cried aloud, “ We ask for the lives of our old comrades as the price of the Bastille and of the services we have rendered ! ”  Élie in a broken voice, with trembling lips, joined his entreaties to theirs, “ I ask for mercy to be shown to my companions as the prize of our deeds ” ;  and pointing to the silver plate belonging to De Launay which had been offered to him he added, “ I want none of this silver ;  I want no honours.  Mercy, mercy for these children,” he turned to the little Swiss standing by him ;  “ mercy, mercy for these old men,” he added, taking the hands of the trembling Invalides, “ for they have only done their duty.”

“ Élie,” says Dussaulx, “ reigned supreme, as he continued to calm the minds of the people.  His disordered hair, his streaming brow, his dented sword held proudly, his torn and crumpled clothing, served to heighten and to sanctify the dignity of his appearance, and gave him a martial air that carried us back to heroic times.  All eyes were fixed on him.... I seem still to hear him speaking :  ‘ Citizens, above all, beware of staining with blood the laurels you have bound about my head—otherwise take back your palms and crowns ! ’ ”

At these noble words a sudden silence fell on the tumultuous crowd, then a few voices murmured “ Mercy ! ” and the next moment a mighty shout went up from every mouth.  “ Mercy, yes, mercy, mercy for all ! ” and the great hall re-echoed the cry of pardon.

So at last the Invalides and little Swiss were led out by the same crowd that had clamoured for their blood, and fêted amidst general rejoicing.

“ Thus ended this great scene of fury, of vengeance, of victory, of joy, of atrocities, but where there gleamed a few rays of humanity.”^[95]

More than a few rays !  On this terrible 14th of July great deeds were done, deeds of glorious valour and self-sacrifice.  Against the murky background of brutality and horror the names of Élie, Hulin, Arné, Bonnemère stand out in shining letters, and the fact that these men took no part in the subsequent excesses of the Revolution shows that they were not the tools of agitators but honest men acting on their own initiative and, as such, truly representative of the people.  For patriots like these the revolutionary leaders had no use ;  the instruments they needed were of a different stamp.  Jourdan, Maillard, Théroigne, Desnot, the “ cook out of place ” who had cut off the head of De Launay, all these will reappear again and again in the great scenes of the Revolution, but of Élie we shall hear no more.

What share must we attribute to the people in the crimes of this day ?  Out of the 800,000 inhabitants of Paris only approximately 1000 took any part in the siege of the Bastille,^[96] and we have already seen the elements of which this 1000 were composed.  That the mob by whom the atrocities were committed consisted mainly of the brigands, the evidence of Dussaulx further testifies :

“ They were men,” he says, “ armed like savages.  And what sort of men ?  Of the sort that one could not remember ever having met in broad daylight.  Where did they come from ?  Who had drawn them from their gloomy lairs ?”  And again :  “ They did not belong to the nation, these brigands that were seen filling the Hôtel de Ville, some nearly naked, others strangely clothed in garments of divers colours, beside themselves with rage, most of them not knowing what they wanted, demanding the death of the victims pointed out to them, and demanding it in tones that more than once it was impossible to resist.”  Further, that they were actually hired for their task is evident.  Mme. Vigée le Brun records that on the morning of this day she overheard two men talking; one said to the other, “ Do you want to earn 10 francs ?  Come and make a row with us.  You have only got to cry, ‘ Down with this one ! down with that one.’  Ten francs are worth earning.”  The other answered, “ But shall we receive no blows ? ”  “ Go to ! ” said the first man, “ it is we who are to deal the blows ! ”

Dussaulx confirms this statement in referring to the lanterne, “ where butchers paid by real assassins committed atrocities worthy of cannibals.”

But tools when they happen to be human are sometimes difficult to manipulate.  In massacring the garrison of the Bastille it is evident that the brigands exceeded their orders, for neither De Launay nor the Invalides had been proscribed in the councils of the revolutionary leaders.^[97]  The murder of Flesselles, the provost-marshal, had, however, as we have seen, been ordained during the preceding night.  The forged note was prepared and handed round amongst the populace ;  it purported to be a message from Flesselles to De Launay and contained these words :  “ I am keeping the Parisians amused with promises and cockades ;  hold out till the evening and you will be reinforced.”  This note, of which only a copy was produced, and the original, though sought for during six months, could never be discovered, is admitted by Dussaulx, Bailly, and Pitra to have been merely the faked-up pretext given to the people by those who desired the death of Flesselles.  But on this occasion “ the people ” proved recalcitrant, and Flesselles was allowed to pass unharmed out of the Hôtel de Ville.  Then a hired assassin, “ not a man of the people,” says Montjoie, but a well-to-do jeweller named Moraire, approached him as he came down the steps and fired a revolver into his ear.  Flesselles fell dead, and the crowd, once more carried away by the sight of blood, cut off his head and bore it on a pike with De Launay’s to the Palais Royal.  Thus perished the first victim on the list of proscriptions drawn up by the Palais Royal ;  the only other in Paris at the time was the Prince de Lambesc, but though attacked by the mob, his carriage seized and burnt, he was able to make good his escape.  At the King’s command the Comte d’Artois, De Breteuil, and De Broglie left Versailles and succeeded in reaching the frontier unmolested, thus avoiding the fate designed for them by the conspirators, but the Prince de Condé on his journey from Chantilly encountered at Crépy-en-Valois—the constituency of the Duc d’Orléans—emissaries sent by the duke to stir up the peasants, and narrowly escaped drowning in the Oise.

Foullon, though warned of the conspirators’ intentions regarding him, was at his château of Morangis and refused to fly.  To the supplications of his daughter-in-law he only answered “ My daughter, you are aware of all the infamies circulated about me ;  if I leave I shall seem to justify my condemnation.  My life is pure, I wish it to be examined, and to leave my children an untarnished name.”  He consented, however, to go to the château of his friend M. de Sartines at Viry, and on the morning of the 22nd of July he started forth on foot.  M. de Sartines was out when he arrived, and Foullon awaited his return in the garden, when suddenly a horde of ruffians, led by one Grappe, burst in upon him.  His whereabouts had been discovered by the treachery of a servant of Sartines’—not, as certain writers have stated, his own servant, who remained with him and endeavoured to protect him from his murderers.

Then the unfortunate old man of seventy-four was led to Paris, and in ghastly mockery the ruffians proceeded to mimic the sufferings of our Lord, crowning Foullon with thorns and, when on the long road to Paris he complained of thirst, giving him vinegar to drink.

At the Hôtel de Ville Lafayette vainly attempted to save him from the fury of the populace.  “ But this agitation,” says Bailly, now the mayor of Paris, “ was not natural and spontaneous.  In the square, and even in the hall, people of decent appearance were seen mingling in the crowd and exciting them to severity.  One well-dressed man, addressing the bench, cried out angrily, ‘ What need is there to judge a man who has been judged for thirty years ? ’ ”  The lying phrase attributed to Foullon, “ If the people have no bread let them eat hay,” was successfully circulated, and at last the infuriated mob stuffed his mouth with hay and hung him to the lantern.^[98]

Meanwhile Foullon’s son-in-law, Berthier, was arrested at Compiègne, in the midst of his efforts to assure the provisioning of Paris.  It was said, to inflame the passions of the crowd, that he had ordered the corn to be cut green so as to starve the people.  The truth was that letters had reached him from all sides describing the urgent demand for grain, and Necker himself had written on the 14th of July ordering him to cut 20,000 septiers of rye before the harvest in order to supply the present need,^[99] but Berthier had refused to comply, preferring to ensure the circulation of grain already stored, and by means of untiring activity he succeeded in providing the necessary supplies.  This, of course, the revolutionaries could not forgive him, and Berthier was driven to Paris amidst the execrations of the populace.  As he entered the capital, followed by a mob of armed brigands, the head of his father-in-law was thrust through his carriage-window on the end of a pike.  Faint with hunger and sick with horror he reached the Hôtel de Ville, but before the lantern could be lowered a mutineer of the Royal Cravatte plunged his sabre into his body.  Thereupon “ a monster of ferocity, a cannibal,” tore out his heart, and Desnot, the “ cook out of place ” who had cut off the head of De Launay and again “ happened ” to be on the spot, carried it to the Palais Royal.^[100]  This ghastly trophy, together with the victim’s head, was placed in the middle of the supper-table around which the brigands feasted.

Such were the consequences of the siege of the Bastille so vaunted by panegyrists of the Revolution.  Well may M. Madelin exclaim :  “ A new era was born of a prodigious lie.  Liberty bore a stain from its birth, and the paradox once created can never be dispelled.”

And what of the Bastille, that haunt of despotism, whose destruction was to atone for these atrocities ?  Alas for the deception of the people, their investigation of the hated fortress revealed nothing remotely resembling the visions presented to their imaginations—no skeletons or corpses were to be found, no captives in chains, no oubliettes, no torture-chambers.^[101]  True, an “ iron corselet ” was discovered, “ invented to restrict a man in all his joints and to fix him in perpetual immobility,” but this was proved to be an ordinary suit of armour ;  a destructive machine, “ of which one could not guess the use,” turned out to be a printing-press confiscated by the police ;  whilst a collection of human bones that seemed to offer a sinister significance was traced to the anatomical collection of the surgery.

The prisoners proved equally disappointing.  Seven only were found—four forgers, Béchade, Lacaurège, Pujade, and Laroche ;  two lunatics, Tavernier and De Whyte, who were mad before they were imprisoned, and the Comte de Solages, incarcerated for “ monstrous crimes ” at the request of his family.  The first four disappeared into Paris.  The remaining three were paraded through the streets and exhibited daily as a show to an interested populace.  Finally, the Comte de Solages was sent back to his inappreciative relations, whilst a kind-hearted wig-maker attempted keeping Tavernier as a pet, but was obliged to return him hastily to the Comité, who despatched him with De Whyte to the lunatic asylum at Charenton.

The Revolution showed itself less indulgent to Bastille prisoners than the Old Régime.  The romantic conception of Dickens in the Tale of Two Cities, wherein a former victim of despotism is made to remark that “ as a Bastille prisoner not a soul would harm a hair of his head,” is entirely refuted by history.  Two, as we have already seen, were nearly massacred in their attempts to save De Losme, and subsequently no less than ten Bastille prisoners perished at the hands of the revolutionaries—eight were guillotined and two were shot.  Of these—greatest irony of all—was Linguet, the man whose revelations had contributed more than any other evidence to inflame public feeling on the subject of the Bastille.  Linguet did his best to atone for the calumnies he had circulated, for in December 1792 he wrote to Louis XVI. begging to be allowed the honour of defending him.  Eighteen months later, in one of the many horrible prisons of the Terror where he awaited his summons to the guillotine, Linguet had leisure to meditate on the amenities of the Bastille.

THE KING’S VISIT TO PARIS

It was through the medium of the Palais Royal that the news of the taking of the Bastille reached Versailles, for the King’s messengers were waylaid by revolutionary emissaries, whilst the Vicomte de Noailles and other Orléanistes were deputed to announce the events of the day to the Assembly.  Needless to say, these events were ingeniously distorted to suit the purpose of the intrigue—the Bastille had been taken by force, De Launay had fired on the deputation of citizens and met with the just reward of his treachery at the hands of “ the people.”  The presence of the troops was, of course, still represented as the only reason for these disorders.

The King, informed of the desperate state of affairs, replied to the Assembly :  “ You rend my heart more and more by the account you give me of the troubles of Paris.  It is not possible to believe that the orders given to the troops can be the cause.”  They were most certainly not the cause, and the removal of the troops was followed a week later, as we have seen, by disorders still more frightful in the massacres of Foullon and of Berthier.  But the King, assured by succeeding deputations that no other measure would restore peace to the capital, torn between his own convictions and the entreaties of the deputies, finally resolved to appeal to the better feelings of the Assembly.  Accompanied by his two brothers he appeared in the great hall, and in the simple human language peculiar to him, that contrasts so strangely with the redundant periods of the day, he implored their aid in dealing with the crisis :

“ Messieurs, I have assembled you to consult on the most important affairs of state, of which none is more urgent, none touches my heart more deeply, than the frightful disorder that reigns in the capital.  The head of the nation comes with confidence into the midst of its representatives to tell them of his grief, to ask them to find means for restoring calm and order.”  Then, referring to the hideous calumnies circulated on his intentions—notably the monstrous fable that he had ordered the hall of the Assembly to be mined in order to blow up the deputies—he added, with a pathos and dignity that won for him the sympathy of almost the whole Assembly :

“ I know that people have aroused unjust suspicions in your minds ;  I know that they have dared to say that your persons were not in safety.  Is it necessary to reassure you concerning such criminal rumours, refuted beforehand by your knowledge of my character ?  Well, then, it is I, who am one with my nation, it is I who trust in you !  Help me in these circumstances to assure the salvation of the State ;  I await this from the National Assembly, from the zeal of the representatives of my people. . . .”

Then, since he was persuaded the milice bourgeoise were competent to maintain “ order ” in the capital, he ended by announcing that he had ordered the troops to retire from Paris to Versailles.

In the wild enthusiasm that followed this speech of the King the voice of the revolutionary factions was for once stifled, and Louis XVI. was escorted back to the Palace amidst the acclamations of deputies and people.  Cries of “ Vive le Roi ! ” resounded on every side, and so immense a crowd assembled that the King took an hour and a half to cover the short distance between the Salle des Menus and the Château.  The unfortunate monarch, pressed upon from every side, saluted unresistingly on both cheeks by a woman of the people, grilled by the rays of the July sun, suffered almost as much by the warmth of his subjects’ affection as two days later he was to suffer by their coldness, and he reached at last the marble staircase nearly suffocated and streaming with perspiration.

Meanwhile the Queen, holding the Dauphin in her arms and little Madame Royale by the hand, came out on to the balcony—that same balcony from which less than three months later she was to face a very different crowd.  The children of the Comte d’Artois came to kiss her hand ;  the Queen stooped to embrace them, holding the Dauphin towards them.  The little boys pressed him to their hearts, and Madame Royale, slipping her head under her mother’s arm, joined in the caresses.  The King arrived at this moment and appeared on the balcony amidst the cheers and benedictions of his people.

In Paris, likewise, the people longed for peace.  When on the same day eighty-four deputies went to the capital to read aloud the King’s discourse, and to announce the dismissal of the troops, they were received with acclamations, and from thousands of throats arose the cry, “ Vive le Roi !  Vive la Nation ! ”  The whole city was in an ecstasy of happiness.  Lally, the tenderhearted Lally, took advantage of the restored good-humour of the people to address them at the Hôtel de Ville and entreat them to put an end to disorder :

“ Messieurs, we have come to bring you peace from the King and the National Assembly.  (Cries of Peace ! Peace !)  You are generous ;  you are Frenchmen ;  you love your wives, your children, your country.  (Yes ! Yes !)  There are no more bad citizens.  Everything is calm, everything is peaceful . . . there will be no more proscriptions, will there ? ”  And with one voice the people answered, “ Yes, yes, peace ;  no more proscriptions ! ”

Then the Archbishop of Paris (Monseigneur de Juigné) spoke with fatherly compassion of the misfortunes of the capital, after which he led the people amidst thunderous applause to sing a Te Deum of thanksgiving at Notre Dame.

Alas, the people were not allowed to enjoy for long this restored harmony !  Such was the amazing ingenuity of the agitators and the credulity of the Parisians that in the space of a few hours the city was thrown into a fresh panic—“ The troops are not being sent away—flour intended for Paris is being held up—soldiers are tearing the national cockade off passers-by and stuffing their guns with them—the city has only three days’ supplies.”  The workmen engaged in demolishing the Bastille were told that their bread and wine were poisoned.^[102]

Then, when the fury of the populace was once more thoroughly aroused, deputations of fishwives were sent by the leaders of the conspiracy to demand that the King should come to Paris.  It was the first of the series of attempts made by the revolutionaries to have the King assassinated by the People.  They dared not do the deed themselves, for they knew the frightful punishment attaching to regicide ;  they knew, moreover, the furious indignation so foul a crime would arouse in the minds of the people in general to whom the King was still almost a sacred being.  But if the populace could be sufficiently inflamed, and at the psychological moment the King were brought amongst them, might not some brigand lurking in the crowd, some obscure fanatic, give way to a sudden impulse and pull the trigger of his rusty flint-lock ?  The thing was not impossible.^[103]

The Queen, who foresaw the same possibilities, threw herself in vain at the King’s feet and implored him not to expose himself to the threatening populace.  But the King, convinced “ that if each citizen owes to his sovereign the sacrifice of his life, the sovereign equally owes to his country the sacrifice of his, turned a deaf ear to all forebodings, trusted to his people and the good genius of France, and in spite of the Queen’s entreaties showed himself firm and unshakable.  ‘ I have promised,’ he said ;  ‘ my intentions are pure ;  I trust in this.  The people must know that I love them, and, anyhow, they can do as they like with me.’ ”^[104]

“ Louis XVI.,” says De Lescure, “ was neither a superior intellect nor an energetic will, he was an incorruptible conscience,” and these words give the clue to all his oscillations, for conscience is necessarily a more uncertain guide than policy or self-interest.  As long as he felt convinced a certain course was right he followed it without a thought for his personal safety or advantage—the trouble was that he could not always decide which course was right, and allowed himself to be swayed by conflicting counsels.  On this occasion he did not hesitate—the people wished him to go to Paris ;  he would go, and his conscience being at rest he could meet any fate with tranquillity.

At ten o’clock in the morning of July 17 the King, escorted by the deputies of the Assembly and the milice bourgeoise, set forth for Paris.  His guards were taken from him, and in their place marched 200,000 men armed with scythes and pickaxes, with guns and lances, dragging cannons behind them, and women dancing like Bacchantes, waving branches of leaves tied with ribbons.  In order not to tire the people the King had ordered the procession to move at foot’s-pace, and it was four o’clock by the time it reached Paris.^[105]  In the midst of this threatening escort Louis XVI. sat pale and anxious, and on entering the city he leant forward, casting his eyes wonderingly over the assembled multitude that received him in an ominous silence, for the people had been forbidden to cheer him.  So potent was the spell exercised over the popular mind by the leaders of the Revolution that not a soul dared to utter the cry of “ Vive le Roi ! ” and brigands posted in the crowd silenced the least murmur of applause.^[106]  Thus, dragged like a captive through the streets of the city, the King was obliged to endure this terrible humiliation for which no cause whatever existed ;  he had done absolutely nothing to forfeit the popularity which only two days earlier he had enjoyed.  The good Archbishop of Paris fared still worse at the hands of the populace, for alone of all the procession he was hissed by those he had ruined himself to feed.  Sitting in his carriage, his eyes downcast, striving to overcome the agitation of his mind, his thoughts must have indeed been bitter.

As the procession passed through the Place Louis XV the possibility that both the Queen and the revolutionary leaders had foreseen was realized—a hand in the crowd pulled the trigger of a gun, and the shot missing the King killed a poor woman at the back of the royal carriage.^[107]  The incident was hushed up, and even the King was unaware it had occurred.  Thus, saved by the mysterious power which protected him every time that lie was brought face to face with the people, the King reached the Hôtel de Ville.

Under an archway of pikes and naked swords he passed to the throne prepared for him.  Bailly presented him with the tricolour cockade, and the King accepting it as that which it professed to be—the cockade of Paris—placed it in his hat.  Then suddenly it seemed that the spell was broken, and cries of “ Vive le Roi ! ” broke out on all sides.  Once more Lally passionately appealed to the people’s loyalty :

“ Well, citizens, are you satisfied ?  Here is the King for whom you called aloud, and whose name alone excited your transports when two days ago we uttered it in your midst.  Rejoice, then, in his presence and his benefits.”  After reminding the people of all the King had done for the cause of Liberty he turned to assure the King of the people’s love :  “ There is not a man here who is not ready to shed for you the last drop of his blood.  No, Sire, this generation of Frenchmen will not go back on fourteen centuries of fidelity.  We will all perish, if necessary, to defend the throne that is as sacred to us as to yourself.  Perish those enemies who would sow discord between the nation and its chief !  King, subjects, citizens, let us join our hearts, our wishes, our efforts, and display to the eyes of the universe the magnificent spectacle of one of its finest nations, free, happy, triumphant, under a just, cherished, and revered King, who, owing nothing to force, will owe everything to his virtues and his love.”

Again and again Lally was interrupted by tumultuous applause, and the King, overwhelmed by this sudden revulsion of popular feeling, could only murmur brokenly in reply, “ My people can always count on my love.”

His departure for Versailles was as triumphant as his arrival had been humiliating.  When he entered his carriage with the tricolour cockade in his hat an immense crowd gathered round him, crying, “ Long live our good King, our friend, our father ! ”

It was eleven o’clock before he reached the Château.  On the marble staircase the Queen, with the Dauphin in her arms, was waiting for him in an agony of suspense, and at the sight of the husband she had not dared to hope ever to see again Marie Antoinette fell weeping on his neck.  But when she raised her eyes and saw that sinister badge—the enemy’s colours in his hat—her heart sank ;  from that moment she felt that all was lost.

But the King was happy, not because his life had been spared, but because he believed that he had regained the love of his people.

RESULTS OF THE JULY REVOLUTION

So ended the Revolution of July, and what had it brought to the people ?  To the immense majority, unaffected as we have seen by lettres de cachet, the destruction of the Bastille meant no more than the destruction of the Tower of London would mean to-day to the inhabitants of Whitechapel.  Indeed, certain amongst them shrewdly recognized that in attacking it they were fighting for a cause that was not their own.  The Abbé Rudemare, walking amongst the ruins of the Bastille the day after the siege, came upon a workman engaged in the task of demolition who brusquely accosted him with the words :  “ Mon chevalier, vous ne direz pas que c’est pour nous que nous travaillons ;  c’est bien pour vous, car nous autres, nous ne tâtions pas de la Bastille on nous f . . . à Bicêtre.  N’y a-t-il rien pour boire à votre santé ? ”^[108]

The people had indeed admirably served the design of the conspirators, taking on themselves all the risks and facing all the dangers of revolt, whilst the men who had worked them up to violence remained discreetly in the background.  Now, in all the great outbreaks of the Revolution we shall find that the mechanism was threefold, consisting of, firstly, the Instigators ;  secondly, the Agitators, and thirdly, the Instruments ;  and of these three classes only the last two incurred any danger.  Thus at the siege of the Bastille the mob and its leaders alone took part in the battle, whilst the Instigators prudently effaced themselves.  For the rôle of the Instigators was not to lead insurrection but only to provoke it, and having laid the mine to retreat into safety the moment it produced the desired explosion.  So throughout the whole course of the Revolution we shall never find Danton figuring in the tumults he had helped to prepare ;  he was, therefore, not present at the siege of the Bastille, but he visited it next day when all danger was over ;^[109]  St. Huruge also kept away, but he was at Versailles the day after shaking his fist at the Queen’s windows and uttering furious invectives against the royal family ;^[110]  Santerre contented himself with sending his dray-horses to represent him in the fray ;^[111] whilst Camille Desmoulins, the hero of the 12th of July, who first called the people to arms, was careful to postpone his arrival on the scene until after the capitulation.

The women of the Orléaniste conspiracy proved more courageous :  Théroigne was in the thick of the fight and received a sword of honour from the leaders ;  Mme. de Genlis watched the siege from the windows of Beaumarchais’ house, opposite the gate of the Bastille, with the Ducs de Chârtres and Montpensier—the sons of the Duc d’Orléans—at her side.

The duke himself behaved with his usual pusillanimity ;  instead of going to the King and boldly requesting to be made lieutenant-general of the kingdom, as the conspirators had planned, he presented himself timorously at Versailles and asked permission to go to England “ in the event of affairs becoming more distressing than they were at present.”  The King looked at him coldly, shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply.

But though the Orléanistes had failed to bring off their great coup of putting the Duc d’Orléans at the head of affairs, they had nevertheless accomplished a great deal.  The destruction of the Bastille by force and not by the King’s decree had proved a powerful blow to the royal authority, but the most important result of the outbreak from the point of view of both the revolutionary factions was the effect produced on the public mind.  The people before the Revolution of July, says Marmontel, “ were not sufficiently accustomed to crime, and in order to inure them to it they must be practised in it.”  The Parisians, always eager for spectacles and enchanted by novelty of any kind, had now been initiated into a new form of entertainment—the fashion of carrying heads on pikes and of hoisting victims to the lantern ;  and though it would be unjust to accuse the mass of the true people—the law-abiding and industrious citizens—of sympathy with these atrocities, it is undeniable that from this date the populace of Paris—the idlers, wastrels, and drunken inhabitants of the city—acquired a taste for bloodshed that made them the ready tools of their criminal leaders.  So, although, as we shall see, the crimes that followed were invariably instigated, if not performed, by professional revolutionaries, we shall find henceforth a steady deterioration in the mind of the populace, and even in the mass of the true people a growing indifference to bloodshed and submission to violence, that five years later made the Reign of Terror possible.  Thus the Revolution of July, whilst serving the cause of the Orléaniste conspiracy, had likewise paved the way for Anarchy.

In England the news of the siege of the Bastille was received with mingled feelings.  All true lovers of humanity rejoiced at an event that at the time they believed to herald the dawn of liberty, though many Englishmen, like Arthur Young^[112] and Wordsworth, lived to realize their error.  Burke, more far-seeing, wondered whether to blame or applaud ;  thrilled by the struggle for freedom he shuddered nevertheless at the outbreak of “ Parisian ferocity,” and dreaded its recurrence in the future.  But to the Whigs and the revolutionaries of England this triumph of the Orléaniste conspiracy was a matter for the heartiest congratulation.  “ How much the greatest event it is that ever happened in the world and how much the best ! ” wrote Fox to Fitzpatrick.  To the Duc d’Orléans, whose despicable conduct had sickened even his supporters in France, Fox thought fit to send his warm compliments :  “ Tell him and Lauzun (the Duc de Biron) that all my prepossessions against French connections for this country will be altered if this Revolution has the consequences I expect.”  The anniversary of the “ fall ” of the Bastille was celebrated the following year by the Revolution Society at the tavern of “ The Crown and Anchor,” where more than 600 members, presided over by Lord Stanhope, drank to the liberty of the world, and Dr. Price demanded the inauguration of a “ league of peace.”

But whilst the Subversives of this country gave way to rejoicing, the Government of England resolutely refrained from any expressions of satisfaction at the blow to the monarchy of France ;  out of respect to Louis XVI. the playhouses of London were prohibited from representing the siege of the Bastille on the stage.

The conduct of England provided, indeed, a marked contrast to that of Prussia.  “ All the symptoms of anarchy in France,” writes Sorel, “ all the signs of discredit in the French state, are seized upon abroad eagerly by the Prussian agents and commented on in Berlin with acrimonious satisfaction.  Hertzberg, whilst priding himself on his ‘ enlightened views,’ shows himself on this occasion as good a Prussian as the favourites of his master.  This is because the crisis serves his intrigues and he hopes to profit by it.  ‘ The prestige of royalty is annihilated in France,’ he writes to the King on the 5th of July ;  ‘ the troops have refused to serve.  Louis has declared the Séance Royale null and void ;^[113]  this is a scene after the manner of Charles I.  Here is a situation of which the governments should take advantage.’ ”  That the English Government should not seize this opportunity to attack the rival to her naval supremacy is inconceivable to the mind of the good Prussian.  “ The 14th of July overwhelms him (Hertzberg) with joy. . . . He hails it after his fashion as a day of deliverance.  ‘ This is the good moment,’ declares Hertzberg ;  ‘ the French monarchy is overthrown, the Austrian alliance is annihilated, this is the good moment, and also the last opportunity presented to your Majesty to give to his monarchy the highest degree of stability.’ ”^[114]

Von der Goltz, still faithful to the precepts of his former master, showed himself as enthusiastic as Hertzberg ;  he, too, sees in the 14th of July the final defeat of the Queen he had so long sought to defame in the eyes of the French nation, and is equally unable to understand the attitude of the British ambassador, Lord Dorset, who allows his personal feelings of gratitude and affection for the royal family of France to override the satisfaction he might be expected to experience at the unique opportunity offered to his country.  The Comte de Salmour, minister for Saxony, had filled his post more ably.  “ The Saxon Minister,” Von Goltz writes to the King of Prussia on July 24, “ though principally frequenting the society of the Queen, on account of his uncle, the Baron de Bézenval, nevertheless, I must do him the justice to admit, continues to behave very well to me (i.e. assists Von der Goltz in his schemes against the Court ?).  The ambassador for England, owing to his personal attachment to the Queen and the Comte d’Artois, is as distressed by all that has happened as if the blow had fallen on the King, his master.  In truth it must go to his heart, but would it not be well if he distinguished better between his personal affections and the interests of his post ? ”^[115]  Frederick William, delighted at the zeal of his ambassador, thereupon wrote to order Von der Goltz to get into touch with the revolutionary leaders in the National Assembly and to continue his campaign against the Queen.  Von der Goltz, obedient to these commands, stirred up further hatred for Marie Antoinette, “ intrigued against the Court of Vienna, and thanks to his equivocal relations with the revolutionaries paralysed the measures of the French ministry.”^[116]  By the Prussians, therefore, the fall of the Bastille is regarded as the triumph of Prussia over Austria.  The Government of Berlin, says Sorel, “ sees that which it dared not hope for by the happiest fortune, that which all the diplomacy of Frederick had so often vainly attempted to secure—the Austrian alliance dissolved, the credit of the Queen lost for ever ;  influence acquired by the partisans of Prussia, and in consequence all avenues opened to Prussian ambition.”^[117]

1. Bézenval, who was in command of the Swiss Guards, exactly corroborates this statement :  “ All the spies of the police agreed in saying that the insurrection was caused by strange men who, in order to increase their numbers, took by force those they met on their way ;  they had even sent three times to the Faubourg Saint-Marceau to raise recruits without being able to persuade any one to join them. These spies added that they saw men inciting the tumult and even distributing money.”

2. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, i. 275.

3. See, for example, the letter from the English ambassador in Paris, the Duke of Dorset to the Duke of Leeds, April 30, 1789 :  “ The Duc d’Orléans has experienced repeated marks of popular favour lately, and particularly on Tuesday last. As he was returning through the Faubourg Saint-Antoine the people frequently called out ‘ Vive la maison d’Orléans !’ ”  Madame de la Tour du Pin, who drove through the Faubourg during the riot with some of the Palais Royal party, relates that “ the sight of the livery of Orléans . . . stirred the enthusiasm of this riff-raff .  They stopped us a moment cailing out, ‘ Long live our father, long live our King Orléans !’ ” (Journal d’une Femme de Cinquante Ans, i. 177).

4. Mémoires de Marmontel, iv. 82.

5. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, i. 210, 211, confirmed by Maton la Varenne, Histoire Particulière, etc.

6. Mémoires de Sénart, edit. De Lescure, p. 27.

7. Gouverneur Morris well described this faction under the name of the “ Enragés ” :  “ These are the most numerous, and are of that class which in America is known by the name of pettifogging lawyers, together with a host of curates and many of those who, in all revolutions, throng to the standard of change because they are not well ” [sic] (Diary and Letters of Gouverneur Morris, i. 277).

8. Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, by Étienne Dumont, p. 44.

9. See the evidence of Arthur Young, an eye-witness of these scenes :  “ The spectators in the galleries are allowed to interfere in the debates by clapping their hands, and other noisy expressions of approbation :  this is grossly indecent ;  for if they are permitted to express approbation, they are, by parity of reason, allowed expressions of dissent, and they may hiss as well as clap, which it is said they have sometimes done :  this would be to overrule the debate and influence the deliberations .  Another circumstance is the want of order among themselves ;  more than once to-day there were more than a hundred members on their legs at a time,” etc. (Travels in France, p.165) .  Lord Dorset in a letter to the Duke of Leeds on June 4, 1789, confirms this description :  “ I am told that the most extravagant and disrespectful language against Government has been held, and that upon all such occasions the greatest approbation is expressed by the audience, by clapping of hands and other demonstrations of satisfaction :  in short, the encouragement is such as to have led some of the speakers on to say things little short of treason .  The Nobility, as may be supposed, are roughly treated in these debates, and their conduct does not escape being represented in the most odious light possible .  The Clergy and Nobility hold their meetings in separate chambers, and neither of them admit strangers to be present at their deliberations ”  (Dispatches from Paris, ii. 207).

10. The Séance Royale was announced for Monday, June 22, and the hall was closed on Saturday the 20th .  As the Assembly did not sit on Sundays this meant the Séance of Saturday only would be missed.

11. At the request Necker the Séance Royal was afterwards postponed till Tuesday the 23rd.

12. La France Libre

13. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, i. 221 ;  Philippe d’Orléans Égalité, by Auguste Ducoin, p. 50.

14. Théroigne de Méricourt, by Marcellin Pellet, p, 10.

15. Marmontel, iv. 137 ;  Dispatches from Paris, letter from Lord Dorset, dated July 9, 1789.

16. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 19 ;  Mémoires de Bézenval, ii. 396.

17. Dispatches from Paris, ii. 237, letter from Lord Dorset.

18. Moniteur for Jan. 4, Feb. 4, and March 3, 1790.

19. For example, La Révolution, by M. Louis Madelin, p. 62, “ It will be understood that under these circumstances the ministry advanced troops on Paris .  The least reactionary government would have been forced to do this .”

20. Appel au Tribunal de l’Opinion Publique, par Mounier, 1790.

21. Ibid.

22. Le Roman d’un Royaliste, par Costa de Beauregard.

23. Mémoires de Lafayette, ii. 53.

24. Biographie Michaud, article on Foullon ;  Histoire de la Révolution Française, by Poujoulat, p. 121, quoting contemporary documents.

25. Ibid.

26. Mémoires de Mme. Campan, p. 242 ;&nbs; Histoire du Règne de Louis XVI, by Joseph Droz, p. 311. This story of Mme. Campan’s is confirmed by a contemporary manuscript in the possession of Berthier’s descendants. See La Conspiration Revolutionnaire de 1789, by Gustave Bord, p. 195.  D’Espremesnil had already given the King the same advice a few weeks earlier, for just after the “ Serment du Jeu de Paume ” he had requested an audience with the King, and urged him not only to arrest but to hang the Due d’Orléans and his accomplices, to dissolve the Assembly, and to follow out his plan of himself granting to the people the reforms they asked for in the cahiers (Mémoires Secrets d’Allonville, ii. 155). Strangely enough the Duke’s mistress, Mrs. Elliott, was of the same opinion with regard to the treatment that should have been meted out to the royal conspirator :  “ Had he (the King), when the nobles went over to the Tiers État, caused the unfortunate Duke of Orléans, and about twenty others, to be arrested and executed, Europe would have been saved from the calamities it has since suffered ;  and I should now dare to regret my poor friend the Duke ” (Journal of Mrs. Elliott, p. 57).

27. Procédure du Châtelet, déposition du comte Virieu.

28. Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, by Étienne Dumont, p. 208.

29. “ Courrier de Provence, lettre 19,” Mémoires de Bailly, i. 332.

30. Montjoie, Histoire de la Révolution de France, chap xli ;  Evidence of M. Périn, Procédure du Châtelet, ii. 113.

31. Montjoie, Histoire de la Révolution de France, chap. xl.

32. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, i. 296 ;  Mémoires de Ferriéres, i. 52.

33. Fragment de l’Histoire Secrète, p. 8, April 1793.

34. Moniteur, ii. 33.

35. Crimes de la Révolution, by Prudhomme, iii. 111

36. Crimes de la Révolution, by Prudhomme, iii. 112.

37. Mém. de Ferriéres, and statement by Clermont Tonnerre at the Procédure du Châtelet.  See also Souvenirs de Mme. Vigée le Brun, p. 129.

38. Montjoie, ii. 48, confirmed by Pépin himself, witness cxxiv. at the Procédure du Châtelet.  According to these two witnesses this encounter took place in the Place Louis XV.;  according to Bailly (i. 327) and to Flammermont, La Journée du 14 Juillet (CLXXVII.), in the Place Vendôme.

39. Deux Amis, i. 276.  Even this authority admits that the people were the aggressors.

40. Taine, La Révolution, i. 62.

41. “ The sanguinary Lambesc and his blindly ferocious troop were singularly debonair ;  ten accounts testify to it .  Although they were stoned by the people in ambush behind the stone-heaps they contented themselves with advancing without charging.... That only one old man was knocked over and that so much was made of this in the popular camp indicates better than all the contemporary accounts how mild was the ‘repression’ ” (Madelin, p. 63) .  “ It was the crowd that began the attack ;  the troops fired into the air.... All the details of the affair prove that the patience and the humanity of the officers was extreme ” (Taine, La Révolution, i. 62) .  See also La Journée du 14 Juillet, by Jules Flammermont, p. clxxviii

42. Deux Amis de la Liberté, i. 117.

43. Order given ro Bézenval on July 12, 1789 .  See the Moniteur, iii. 33.

44. Bailly, i. 337.

45. Note that even the Two Friends of Liberty admit these to have been “ hired brigands ” (Deux Amis, i. 283), though they carefully refrain from mentioning who hired them. Are we to believe again this time that it was the Court ?

46. Histoire du Régne de Louis XVI, by Joseph Droz, p. 292.

47. Deux Amis de la Liberté, i. 284.

48. M. Louis Madelin has emphatically refuted the error perpetuated by historians on this point. The milice bourgeoise, he explains, had been formed “ not at all—as a hundred years ago so many historians and a crowd of their readers believed—against the Court but against the brigands. . . .”  Thus since the 25th of June the Hôtel de Ville had been preparing for the coming danger, and the message carried by its bell must not be misinterpreted.  “ This bell of the Hôtel de Ville had until the last few years a very definite significance for the historians of the Revolution—it called the great city against the Government of Versailles. The more recent researches, and those least to be suspected of retrospective anti-revolutionism, convey to us a different sound. The city called for help, desperately, because in the night the bandits, that for three weeks had been dreaded, were invading it, pillaging the shops, robbing the passers-by. Far from wishing to destroy the Bastille, the bourgeois of the Hôtel de Ville—Liberals of yesterday-would rather have built twenty more to enclose the beasts of prey that infested the disorganized city ” (Madelin, pp. 62, 64). Yet even “ recent researches ” were not needed to prove this fact, since the oldest authority of all, the Deux Amis, had clearly stated it.

49. Bézenval suspected the good faith of certain of these deputies :  “ Although the orators of these deputies had prepared their speeches skilfully, it was easy to see they had been prompted, and that they were asking for arms for the purpose of attacking us rather than to defend themselves ” (Mémoires de Bézenval, ii. 369).

50. Bailly, i. 340.

51. Ibid. 367 ;  Rivarol, p. 45.

52. Madelin, p. 65.

53. Danton, by Louis Madelin, p. 19.

54. See, amongst many contemporary testimonies, the article on Danton by Beaulieu in the Biographie Michaud :  “ This man had not, like many others, embraced the Revolution as a philosophical speculation ;  his views were less elevated. More attached to sensual pleasures, he belonged to that class of intriguers who lend themselves to great upheavals in order to make their fortunes ;  sometimes indeed he made no mystery of his projects in this respect.”

55. Essais de Beaulieu, iii. 192.

56. Études et Leçons sur la Révolution Française, by Aulard, iv. 134.

57. Danton, by Louis Madelin, p. 48.

58. Historians of all parties have endeavoured to deny this Orléaniste origin of the tricolore, but contemporary evidence is strongly in favour of these colours being chosen as those of the duke. Thus Ferrières (Mem. i. 119) :  “ The revolutionaries adopted the cockade made of white, blue and red, it was the livery of the due d’Orléans.”  Beaulieu (Essais, i. 522) :  “ Blue, red and white, which are said to be the colours of the town of Paris, but belong just as much to the due d’Orléans.”  Lord Dorset (Dispatches from Paris, ii. 243) :  “ Red and white in honour of the due d’Orléans.”  Lafayette (Mem. iii. 66) speaks of “ the strange coincidence that the colours of the town should happen also to be those of the duke.”  Most convincing of all is the statement of Mrs. Elliott, the duke’s mistress, whose sole aim was to exonerate the duke of all complicity in the revolutionary movement (Journal, p. 33) :  “The mob obliged everybody to wear a green cockade for two days, but afterwards they took red, white and blue, the Orléans livery.”  Moreover, Camille Desmoulins later on admitted the same :  “When patriots needed a rallying sign, could they have done better than to choose the colours of the one who first called us to liberty ? ” (Révolutions de France et de Brabant, iv. 439).

59. This important point, which entirely refutes the idea of the march on the Bastille as a spontaneous movement of the people, is admitted even by revolutionary authorities, by Deux Amis, i. 313, note :  “ It is certain that the taking of the Bastille was planned, and that the day before plans of attack had been drawn up.”  Also Dussaulx, De l’Insurrection parisienne et de la Prise de la Bastille, p. 44 :  “ The taking of the Bastille had been planned. M. le Marquis de la Salle certified to me that the day before he had received for this purpose a plan of attack.”

60. Marmontel, iv. 180 ;  Dussaulx, p. 206. (edition Monin).

61. Marmontel, iv. 199 ;  Bailly, i. 381, 382.

62. Histoire du Règne de Louis XVI, by Joseph Droz, p. 293 ;  Histoire de la Révolution, by Montjoie.

63. Essais de Beaulieu, i. 522.

64. Montjoie, Histoire de la Révolution, p. 87 ;  Marmontel, iv. 182.  See also Deux Amis de la Liberté, ii. 297 :  “ The regiments encamped in the Champs Élysées had retired during the darkness, but their real motive and the place of their retreat was unknown. An attack was expected every moment ;  nothing was talked of but the troops that were to come and make an assault on the capital.”  Historians have almost invariably misrepresented this point, confounding the panic caused by the brigands on the 13th with that caused by the troops on the 14th.

65. Visitors were admitted on a permit to the Bastille. “ M. Howard could, therefore, have obtained admittance like any one else—he had taken no steps to obtain permission to enter and was sent away, so he was only able to speak of the facts he had collected on the subject ” (Bastille déwilée, 2^ième Livraison (1789), p. 13).

66. Deux Amis, i. 395.

67. De l’Inquisition Française ou Histoire de la Bastille, 1724.

68. “ This resolution (to attack the Bastille) appeared sudden and unexpected amongst the people, but it was premeditated in the councils of the Revolutionary leaders ” (Marmontel, iv. 187).
      “ There is every reason to conclude, by the false reports and alarms that were circulated everywhere, that it was desired to keep up, to increase the agitation, agitation, and lead to the siege of the Bastille ” (Bailly, i. 375).

69. “ They went to the Bastille, but only to get arms and munitions ” (Dussaulx, p. 211, edition Monin).

70. Précis exacte du Cousin Jacques.

71. Deux Amis, i. 306.

72. La Journée du 14 Juillet, by Jules Flammermont, p. lxviii.

73. Ibid. p. lxix.

74. “ If cannons were perceived on the battlements it was because they were habitually used for firing salutes on fête-days :  since the far-off Fronde no balls had been fired from them. The Faubourg saw them every morning, but such was the popular excitement that this morning they seemed to assume a threatening aspect ” (Madelin, p. 66).

75. “ On the provocation of the Governor himself the officers and soldiers swore that they would not fire and would not make use of their arms unless they were attacked ” (Bastille dévoilée, ii. 91).

76. La Journée du 14 Juillet, p. cxcviii.

77. “ The Bastille, ill defended, was taken by a few soldiers and a troop of wretches, mostly Germans and also provincials. The Parisians—those eternal idlers (ces éternels badauds)—appeared at the fortress, but curiosity alone brought them there to visit the dark dungeons of which the mere idea froze them with terror ” (Marat, Ami du Peuple, No. 530).

78. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 92 ;  Deux Amis, i. 317. The citizens of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine gave their names as Davanne and Demain, but M. Flammermont (p. ccv, note) and M. Victor Fournel, Les Hommes du 14 Juillet, p. 216, accept the former statement.

79. Even the Two Friends of Liberty admit this :  “ Two men . . . get up on to the roof of the guard-house in spite of the cries and threats of the garrison of the fortress.”  See also Bastille dévoilée, ii. 93 ;  Marmontel, iv. 191. M. Flammermont’s assertion that they acted under the fire of the garrison is therefore contrary not only to evidence, but to probability, for, considering the slow rate at which they must have progressed, they would have proved an easy target had the garrison chosen to fire.

80. “ This pretended treachery of De Launay, which was immediately noised all over Paris . . . is disproved not only by the accounts of the besieged but of the besiegers themselves, and is rejected to-day by all historians ” (Funck Brentano, Legendes et Archives de la Bastille, p. 256). M. Flammermont admits with regard to this accusation :  “ All that is false.”  Even M. Louis Blanc with a rare impulse of fairness absolves De Launay from this charge :  “ Such was the confusion that the greater number (of the crowd) were not aware under what intrepid effort the chains of the first bridge had been broken ;  they believed that the Governor himself had given the order to let it down in order to entice the multitude and more easily to make carnage amongst them. . . . De Launay was capable of having given the order to fire but not of having committed the perfidious atrocity imputed to him, and justice demands that his memory should be openly cleared of it ” (Histoire de la Revolution, ii. 381). In spite of all this evidence the story of De Launay’s treachery is persistently repeated by nearly every English writer.

81. Deux Amis, i. 325.

82. “ Récit des Assiégés,” Deux Amis, i. 321 ;  Bastille dévoilée, ii. 97.

83. The legend was repeated at the time by a great number of writers, including even Lord Dorset, who was not present at the siege, and whose account is inaccurate in nearly every point. It is refuted, however, not only by Montjoie, Beaulieu, and Marmontel, but by the principal revolutionary authorities—Bastille dévoilée (ii. 99) ;  Dussaulx, p. 219 (edition Monin) :  “ In order to have the right on all these points, to accuse the Governor and his garrison of perfidy one would have to be very certain that they saw and recognized the signals of the deputies, and if they did indeed perceive them it must be admitted that it was impossible for them to cease action whilst the fire of the besiegers continued, and whilst they were being shot at not only from the foot of the fortress but from the tops of the neighbouring houses.”  Beaulieu explains the situation by stating that a part of the garrison—that is to say the Invalides—were on the side of the people, and that it was they who signed to them to advance, whilst the rest—the Swiss—were for holding out, and it was they who fired. This is the view taken by Louis Blanc (ii. 385), who also in this instance denies De Launay’s treachery. “ No historian any longer admits this legend,” says M. Louis Madelin.

84. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 127, 128. See also account by De Flue in Revue Retrospective.

85. Montjoie, Hist. de la Révolution, xlv. 11o ;  Deux Amis, i. 327.

86. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 101 note, 12,;  Deux Amis, i. 326 ; Montjoie, Histoire de la Révolution de France, xlv. 112 ;  Marmontel, iv. 193.

87. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 126 ;  Montjoie, ibid. xlv. 112.

88. See also Bastille dévoilée, ii. 121:  “The garrison, so to speak, made no resistance.”  Georget, one of the besieging gunners, expressed the same opinion.

89. “ The Swiss exhorted the Governor to resist, but the staff and the non-commissioned officers strongly urged him to surrender the fortress ” (Deux Amis, ii. 333).

90. “ An Invalide came to open the door situated behind the drawbridge and asked what they wanted. ‘ That the Bastille should be surrendered,’ they replied.  Then he let them in ” (Deux Amis, i. 337).  “ I was very much surprised . . . to see four Invalides approach the door, open them, and let down the bridges ” (Relation de de Flue, Flammermont, ccxxxv.).

91. “ Récit de Pitra,” La Journée du 14 Juillet, p. 48 ;  Montjoie, Hist. de la Révolution, xlv. 115.

92. Marmontel, iv. 194.  “ The ones who entered first approach the vanquished with humanity, throw their arms round the necks of the staff officers as a sign of peace and reconciliation, and take possession of the fortress as surrendered by capitulation ” (Deux Amis, i. 338).

93. Charles de Jean de Manville, half-brother to the Comtesse de Sabran, a mauvais sujet who had been imprisoned in the Bastille for forging a will.

94. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 110 ;  Hist. de la Révolulion, par Montjoie.

95. Bailly, i. 385.

96. So little commotion did the siege of the Bastille cause in Paris that Dr. Rigby, unaware that anything unusual was going on, went off early in the afternoon to visit the gardens of Monceaux.  “ I doubt not that it (the attack on the Bastille) had begun a considerable time and even been completed before it was known to many thousands of the inhabitants as well as to ourselves.”

97. Malouet, i. 325 ;  Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 87.  On this point Montjoie shows great fairness, for he does not attribute to the Orléanistes crimes that were not of their devising. It is evident that he had definite grounds for his accusations.

98. Von Sybel, in his History of the French Revolution, i. 81 (Eng. trans.), says of the death of Foullon :  “ This crime was not the result of an outbreak of popular fury, it had cost the revolutionary leaders large sums of money, for which thousands of assassins were to be had. In Mirabeau’s correspondence the following statement occurs :  ‘ Foullon’s death cost hundreds of thousands of francs, the murder of the baker François only a few thousands.’ ”

99. La Prise de la Bastille, by Gustave Bord, p. 33.

100. Note that even the Two Friends of Liberty admit that the death of Berthier was engineered :  “ It seems that the people, without knowing it, were the blind instruments of the vengeance of the intendant’s private enemies or of the cruel prudence of his accomplices. Electors noticed from the windows of the Hôtel de Ville several people scattered about the square who seemed to be the leading spirits of the different groups and to direct their movements ” (Deux Amis, ii. 73).

101. Bastille dévoilée, ii. 21, 39, 82.

102. “ Paris again worked on by its perfidious agitators ” (Marmontel, iv. 214).  See also Ferrières, i. 154 ;  Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 73 ;  Deux Amis, ii. 32.

103. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 77 ;  Souvenirs d’un Page (le Comte d’Hézecques), p. 300.

104. Deux Amis, ii. 42 ;  Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 77.

105. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 81.

106. Marmontel, iv. 24.

107. Montjoie, Conjuration de d’Orléans, ii. 82 ;  Essais de Beaulieu, i.; Bailly, ii. 61.

108. “ Journal d’un prêtre parisien, 1789-1792,” published in Documents pour servir à l’histoire de la Révolution de France, by Charles d’Héricault and Gustave Bord, i. 165.

109. Danton, by Louis Madelin.

110. Mémoires de Mme. Campan, p. 235.

111. Le Marquis de Saint-Huruge, par Henri Furgeot, p. 202.

112. It is perhaps not generally known that Arthur Young, who has been falsely quoted as the panegyrist of the French Revolution on account of his earlier works, Travels in France, 1789, and On the Revolution in France, 1792, entirely recanted from his former opinions, and in 1793 wrote a denunciation of the Revolution no less vehement than that of Burke.  This pamphlet, entitled The Example of France, a Warning to Britain, has been very carefully ignored by democratic writers in this country.  Lord Morley, in his essay on Burke (English Men of Letters, p. 162), accounts for it by describing Young as becoming “ panic-stricken.”  There is, however, I believe, a simple explanation of Young’s complete volte-face on the subject of the Revolution.  His earlier work was written in France under the influence of the set in French society that he frequented, and this set we shall find on examination to have been entirely Orléaniste—hence his exaggerated strictures on the Old Régime.  With the best portion of the “ noblesse,” and even with the “ royalist democrats,” he was unacquainted, and the disgust he expresses at the cynical behaviour of certain nobles at a dinner-party he attended is readily explained by the fact that the party consisted of the Due d’Orléans and his supporters (see entry for June 22, 1789).  It was from these sources, therefore, that Young gleaned his earlier opinions on the state of France, and which a fuller knowledge of facts and not “ panic ” led him to relinquish.

113. This was, of course, absolutely untrue.

114. L’Europe et la Révolution Française, ii. 25.

115. Flammermont, La Journée du 14 Juillet, and Rapport sur les Correspondances des Agents Diplomatiques, etc., p. 128.

116. Sorel, L’Europe et la Révolution Française, ii. 69 ;  Flammermont, Rapport sur les Correspondances des Agents Diplomatiques, etc., p. 127.

117. Sorel, L’Europe et la Révolution Française, ii. 25.