CHAPTER IV
A RÊVERIE
A Possible Historical Clue
To find the causes of the universal movement, which for convenience we call the French Revolution, one should be a trained historian, philosopher, and theologian, and be able to pass in review and justly estimate the aspirations for political consolidation, greater individual responsibility, and the revolt against Papal tyranny over consciences, as they had been working in all European countries for many centuries. To find the causes for the particular form which this universal development took in France, it would be necessary to weigh the moral, social, and political (including the fiscal) tendencies of earlier generations. This would be manifestly impossible in a paper dealing with the revolution in France as it may have appeared to a single mind, on one special day, at a time of great mental excitement. There can be no doubt that Marie Antoinette was the innocent victim of a world-wide upheaval in the moments when men were first consciously developing it, and we can well believe that to herself the reasons for such reversals of older thoughts seemed inscrutable; whilst she would have vainly sought, in reflecting over her own mistakes, for grounds sufficient to justify the enormous misfortunes which overwhelmed her personally.
The tenth of August, 1792, was a marked day in the history of the French Revolution. The tide of French democratic reaction against the ever-increasing selfishness of privilege, and the inability of the rulers to sympathise with the growing desire for greater freedom and less personal government, had been gathering force with constantly increasing momentum; and on this day Louis XVI. virtually relinquished all independence as Head of the State by surrendering himself, for the sake of the safety of his family and to save France from the crime of massacring its King, into the doubtful care of the Legislative Assembly.
That Assembly grew out of the States-General which had been convened by the King, May 5th, 1789, at one of the critical moments when the dissatisfaction of the nation with its financial conditions produced keen anxiety to the Court; and it had (on another epoch-making day of that unrestful period) refused, on June 23rd, 1789, to be dissolved by mandate of the King. From that moment the National Assembly had become the centre of the reforming party in France. Louis XVI., as King, did not seem to stand in the way of the wishes of the nation as expressed by the Assembly. He appeared to be willing to forego more of his prerogatives than was compatible with the existence of monarchy as understood in France; but, it was believed, the Queen was of a different opinion and desirous of upholding the ancient monarchical idea as a practical force, which at that time, in spite of the King’s amiability and absence of policy, could not be otherwise than hostile to the still vague, but unbounded, aspirations of the democratic party. “Madame Veto” had that influence over the King due to a strong personality and her position as a much loved wife; upon her, therefore, fell the wrath of the nation. It was instinctively recognised that as a wife and mother she had every reason to desire the continuance of things as they were, and the people quickly interpreted every act of vacillation on the King’s part to the Queen’s active enmity to the rising forces of democracy.
It was on August 10th, 1792, that the Legislative Assembly was made to realise another function belonging to it beyond that of fighting the prerogatives of the King and of the aristocracy. In such a restless age, and in such a country as France, it was impossible to suppose that the outspoken longings of philosophers, poets, and statesmen for freedom, should not stir up the hope of freedom from all authority and restraint whatever in the lowest stratum of society. The lengths to which the mob in Paris could go had, during the last three years, shown itself on isolated occasions, but with increasing frequency and savagery. Both mob and Assembly were animated by the same desire, viz. to make monarchy in France absolutely helpless to withstand their will. The Assembly was trying to bring it about with some appearance of constitutional decency, without apparently perceiving that unless the King was allowed to banish himself, a discrowned monarch without any raison d’être whatever in the country inevitably meant his ultimate, and perhaps speedy, disappearance by death. The mob saw its policy more clearly, and was ready to get rid of him and the Queen by instant murder.
Thus, on the morning of August 10th, the Legislative Assembly had the double part to play of continuing its assault on privilege whilst protecting the royal family from destruction.
When, at some moment between 7 and 9 a.m., Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette entered the Manège in which the Council met, there was, at first, some attempt at restrained courtesy showing itself in the grave assurance of protection in reply to the King’s request, and also in half an hour’s doubt as to where he should sit down. But the Assembly was entirely aware of its victory in this act of unconditional surrender on the part of the King, and would allow no royal guards of any description to enter. There was a short alarm lest it should have to defend itself against the cannon of the insurgents, the sound of firing approaching nearer to the building than the nerves of some of the deputies could sustain with calmness.[[78]] But the mob had not yet realised that it had the upper hand, and was content to believe that the protected King was the imprisoned King, and only continued to howl ferocious threats outside the grilles.
If the Assembly did not immediately see its way to the definite imprisonment of the Sovereign, neither did it choose that the royal party should sit on its own benches, so it ordained that they should be placed in the logographie—the reporter’s room—a sort of den not far from the President’s chair, open to the Manège and within sight and hearing of all that passed, but without dignity or decent comfort.[[79]] Here, without apparently any opportunity for resting or meals, the King, Queen, Princess Elizabeth, Madame Royale, and the Dauphin remained, until (at least) 10 p.m.[[80]] A few faithful attendants, such as the Princesse de Lamballe, Madame de Tourzel, the Prince de Poix, and the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, were with them, and at first other royalists were allowed to bring them news and to pass in and out, but this was stopped in the course of the day.
From Dufour’s account it would seem that no one was busying themselves to supply their wants until he undertook to do so the next day.[[81]] A draught of water brought to them in their cells at night to quench their raging thirst is all that he speaks of. If the story of the King eagerly devouring food in public is true (and it is impossible to believe that the children had nothing), yet it is doubtful whether the Queen, who had had no rest the night before, had any food during the day.