We come now to the eventful year 1789, when the waters were closing over the Bastile, and it was to sink under the flood and turmoil of popular passion in the first stormy phase of the French Revolution. Paris was in the throes of agitation and disturbance, the streets filled with thousands of reckless ruffians, who terrorised the capital, breaking into and plundering the shops, the convents, even the royal Garde-Meuble, the repository of the Crown jewels; and committing the most violent excesses. A large force of troops was collected in and about Paris, more than sufficient to maintain order had the spirit to do so been present in the leaders or had they been backed up by authority. But the King and his Government were too weak to act with decision, and, as the disorders increased, it was seen that no reliance could be placed upon the French Guards, who were ripe for revolt and determined to fraternise with the people. The people clamored for arms and ammunition, and seized upon a large quantity of powder as it was being removed secretly from Paris. Fifty thousand pikes were turned out in thirty-six hours.
Two revolutionary committees directed affairs, and it was mooted at one of them whether an attack should not be made upon the Bastile. The more cautious minds demurred. It would be neither useful nor feasible to gain possession of the ancient fortress which, with its guns mounted and its impregnable walls, might surely make a vigorous resistance. At last it was decreed to approach the Governor of the Bastile with peaceful overtures, asking him to receive a garrison of Parisian citizen-militia within the place as a measure of public safety. M. de Launay, the veteran Governor, civilly received the deputations with this proposal, but although inwardly uneasy would make no concessions. He awaited orders which never arrived, but was stoutly determined to do his duty and remain staunch to the King.
His position was indeed precarious. The garrison consisted of a handful of troops, chiefly old pensioners. The guns on the ramparts were of obsolete pattern, mostly mounted on marine carriages, and they could not be depressed or fired except into the air. Moreover the powder magazine was full, for the whole stock of powder had been removed from the Arsenal, where it was exposed to attack and seizure, and it was now lodged in the cellars of the Bastile. But the Governor had done his best to strengthen his defence. Windows had been barred, and exposed loopholes closed. A bastion for flanking fire had been thrown out from the garden wall. Great quantities of paving stones had been carried up to the tops of the Towers, and steps taken to pull down the chimney pots,—the whole for use as missiles to be discharged on the heads of the besiegers. Nevertheless the place could not hold out long, for it was almost entirely unprovisioned.
The attack upon the Bastile appears to have been precipitated by a cowardly report spread that the guns of the castle were ranged upon the city and that a bombardment was threatened. A deputation was forthwith despatched to the Governor, insisting the direction of the guns be changed and inviting him to surrender. M. de Launay replied that the guns pointed as they had done from time immemorial, and that he could not remove them without the King’s order, but he would withdraw them from the embrasure. This deputation retired satisfied, assuring the Governor that he need expect no attack, and went back to the Hotel de Ville. But presently an armed mob arrived, shouting that they must have the Bastile. They were politely requested to return, but some turbulent spirits insisted that the drawbridges should be lowered, and when the first was down, advanced across them, although repeatedly warned that unless they halted, the garrison would open fire. But the people, warmed with their success, pressed on, and a sharp musketry duet began, and put the assailants to flight in great disorder, but did not send them far. Presently they came on again toward the second drawbridge and prepared to break in by it, when firing was resumed and many casualties ensued.
At half past four o’clock in the afternoon three carts laden with straw were sent forward and used to set fire to the outbuildings, the guard-house, the Governor’s residence and the kitchens. A number of French grenadiers with three hundred citizens now advanced and made good their entrance; but the drawbridge was let down behind them and a cry of treachery arose. Fire was opened on both sides and a sharp combat ensued. The issue might have been different had the defence been better organised, but the garrison was small (barely a hundred men), was short of ammunition, had not taken food for forty-eight hours, and could make no use of the artillery. At five o’clock M. de Launay, hopeless of success, desired to blow up the powder magazine, urging that voluntary death was preferable to massacre by the infuriated people. The vote of the majority was against this desperate means and in favor of capitulation. Accordingly a white flag was hoisted on one of the towers to the sound of the drum, but it was ignored, and the firing continued amid loud shouts of “Lower the drawbridge! Nothing will happen to you!” The Governor thereupon handed over the keys to a subordinate officer. The mob rushed in and the fate of the garrison was sealed. The sub-officers, who had laid down their arms and were unable to defend themselves, were killed, and so also were the grand old Swiss Guards, stalwart veterans, who were slaughtered with but few exceptions.
In the midst of the affray, M. de Launay was seized and carried off to the Hotel de Ville. Frenzied cries of “Hang him! Hang him!” greeted him on the way, and the unfortunate Governor is reported to have looked up to Heaven, saying, “Kill me. I prefer death to insults I have not deserved.” They now fell upon him from all sides with bayonet, musket and pike, and as a dragoon passed, he was called upon to cut off the victim’s head. This man, Denot (whose own account has been followed in this description), essayed first with a sword, then completed the decapitation with his knife. The severed head was paraded through Paris till nightfall on a pike. This was the first of many similar atrocities. The people, without restraint, became intoxicated with brutal exultation. The wildest orgies took place, and the wine shops were crowded with drunken desperadoes, who were the heroes of the hour. The now defenceless castle was visited by thousands to witness its final destruction. Numbers of carriages passed before it or halted to watch the demolition as the stones were thrown down from its towers amid clouds of dust. Ladies, fashionably dressed, and dandies of the first water mingled with the half-naked workmen, and were now jeered at, now applauded. The most prominent personages, great authors and orators, celebrated painters, popular actors and actresses, nobles, courtiers and ambassadors assembled to view the scene of old France expiring and new France in the throes of birth.
The wreck and ruin of the Bastile were speedily accomplished. The people were undisputed masters, and they swarmed over the abased stronghold, filling it from top to bottom. “Some threw the guns from the battlements into the ditch; others with pickaxes and hammers labored to undermine and destroy the towers. These smashed in furniture, tore and dispersed all the books, registers and records; those laid prompt hands on anything they fancied. Some looted the rooms and carried off what they pleased. Strict search was made through the Bastile for prisoners to set free, yet the cells were for the most part empty. The committals during this last reign had not exceeded 190 for the whole period, and when it capitulated only seven were in custody. Gruesome rumors prevailed that several still lingered underground, in deep subterranean cells; but none were found, nor any skeletons, when the whole edifice was pulled down.”
This demolition was voted next year, 1790, by the committee of the Hotel de Ville, which ordered that “the antique fortress too long the terror of patriotism and liberty” should be utterly razed to its very foundations. The workmen set to work with so much expedition that in a little more than three months a portion of the materials was offered for sale. A sharp competition ensued at the auction, and the stones were fashioned into mementoes, set in rings, bracelets and brooches, and fetched high prices. The contractors for demolition made a small fortune by the sale of these trinkets.
Napoleon at first intended to erect his great Arc de Triomphe upon the site of the Bastile, but changed his mind and selected the place where it now stands. The Place de la Bastile remained for forty years a wilderness—in summer a desert, in winter a swamp. The revolution of 1830, which placed Louis Philippe upon the throne of France, was not accomplished without bloodshed, and it was decided to raise a monument to those who lost their lives on this somewhat unimportant occasion. The result was the elegant column, which every visitor to Paris may admire to-day in the Place de la Bastile.
Vincennes, the second State prison of Paris, survived the Terror and exists to this day converted into a barracks for artillery. A portion of the Temple, the especial stronghold of the Knights Templars already described, still existed in part when the Revolution came. Strange to say, its demolition had been contemplated by the Government of Louis XVI, and it had already partly disappeared when the storm broke, and rude hands were laid upon the luckless sovereign who became a scapegoat, bearing the accumulated sins of a long line of criminal and self-indulgent monarchs. When Louis and his family fell into the power of the stern avengers of many centuries of wrong doing, they were hurried to the Temple and imprisoned in the last vestige of the fortress palace. It stood quite isolated and alone. All had been razed to the ground but the donjon tower, to which was attached a small strip of garden enclosed between high walls. This became the private exercise ground of the fallen royalties. The King occupied the first floor of the prison and his family the second floor. The casements were secured with massive iron bars, the windows were close shuttered so that light scarcely entered, and those within were forbidden to look out upon the world below. The staircase was protected by six wicket gates, each so low and narrow that it was necessary to stoop and squeeze to get through. Upon the King’s incarceration a seventh wicket was added with an iron bar fixed at the top of the staircase, always locked and heavily barred. The door opening directly into the King’s chamber was lined with iron.