[Sidenote: Revolution in the Government of Paris: the Commune]
The fall of the Bastille was the first serious act of violence in the course of the Revolution. It was an unmistakable sign that the people were with the Assembly rather than with the king. It put force behind the Assembly's decrees. Not only that, but it rendered Paris practically independent of royal control, for, during the period of disorder, prominent citizens had taken it upon themselves to organize their own government and their own army. The new local government—the "commune," as it was called—was made up of those elected representatives of the various sections or wards of Paris who had chosen the city's delegates to the Estates-General. It was itself a revolution in city government: it substituted popularly elected officials in place of royal agents and representatives of the outworn gilds. And the authority of the commune was sustained by a popularly enrolled militia, styled the National Guard, which soon numbered 48,000 champions of the new cause.
[Sidenote: Temporary Acquiescence of the King]
The fall of the Bastille was such a clear sign that even Louis XVI did not fail to perceive its meaning. He instantly withdrew the royal troops and recalled Necker. He recognized the new government of Paris and confirmed the appointment of the liberal Lafayette to command the National Guard. He visited Paris in person, praised what he could not prevent, and put on a red-white-and-blue cockade—combining the red and blue of the capital city with the white of the Bourbons—the new national tricolor of France. Frenchmen still celebrate the fourteenth of July, the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, as the independence day of the French nation.
[Sidenote: Renewed Intrigues of the Royal Family against the Assembly]
For a while it seemed as though reform might now go forward without further interruption. The freedom of the Assembly had been affirmed and upheld. Paris had settled down once more into comparative repose. The king had apparently learned his lesson. But the victory of the reformers had been gained too easily. Louis XVI might take solemn oaths and wear strange cockades, but he remained in character essentially weak. His very virtues—good intentions, love of wife, loyalty to friends—were continually abused. The queen was bitterly opposed to the reforming policies of the National Assembly and actively resented any diminution of royal authority. Her clique of court friends and favorites disliked the decrease of pensions and amusements to which they had long been accustomed. Court and queen made common cause in appealing to the good qualities of Louis XVI. What was the weak king to do under the circumstances? He was to fall completely under the domination of his entourage.
[Sidenote: Demonstrations of the Parisian Women at Versailles, October, 1789]
The result was renewed intrigues to employ force against the obstreperous deputies and their allies, the populace of Paris. This time it was planned to bring royal troops from the garrisons in Flanders. And on the night of 1 October, 1789, a supper was given by the officers of the bodyguard at Versailles in honor of the arriving soldiers. Toasts were drunk liberally and royalist songs were sung. News of the "orgy," as it was termed, spread like wildfire in Paris, where hunger and suffering were more prevalent than ever. That city was starving while Versailles was feasting. The presence of additional troops at Versailles, it was believed, would not only put an end to the independence of the Assembly but would continue the starvation of Paris. More excited grew the Parisians.
On 5 October was presented a strange and uncouth spectacle. A long line of the poorest women of Paris, including some men dressed as women, riotous with fear and hunger and rage, armed with sticks and clubs, screaming "Bread! bread! bread!" were straggling along the twelve miles of highway from Paris to Versailles. They were going to demand bread of the king. Lafayette and his National Guardsmen, who had been unable or unwilling to allay the excitement in Paris, marched at a respectful distance behind the women out to Versailles.
By the time Lafayette reached the royal palace, the women were surrounding it, howling and cursing, and demanding bread or blood; only the fixed bayonets of the troops from Flanders had prevented them from invading the building, and even these regular soldiers were weakening. Lafayette at once became the man of the hour. He sent the soldiers back to the barracks and with his own force undertook the difficult task of guarding the property and lives of the royal family and of feeding and housing the women for the night. Despite his precautions, it was a wild night. There was continued tumult in the streets and, at one time, shortly before dawn, a gang of rioters actually broke into the palace and groped about in search of the queen's apartments. Just in the nick of time the hated Marie Antoinette hurried to safer quarters, although several of her personal bodyguard were killed in the mêlée.