That great event was now at hand, which, beginning in a claim of rights denied, and inspired by generous ideas, was destined, amidst falling privileges and toppling thrones, to let loose the most direful furies of Discord and War,—to feed the scaffold with blood of King and Queen, and of good men in all the ranks of life,—to lift the nation to unknown heights of audacity and power,—to dash back the hosts of foreign invasion, as the angry surge from the rock,—to achieve victory on a scale of grandeur never witnessed since the eagles of Cæsar passed from Britain to Egypt,—and, finally, to mark a new epoch in the history of the Human Family. The French Revolution had come. It was foreshadowed in the writings of philosophers, in the gradual march of Human Progress, in the wide-spread influence of the American Revolution, in the growing instincts of the people, and the obvious injustice of existing things,—and it was begun in the example of Lafayette. Of all men, he was its natural leader, just so long as it continued moderate and humane. Alas, that such a cause, so beautiful in itself and so grand in promise, was wrested from its original character by the passions of men!
The initial step was the Assembly of the Notables, February 22d, 1787, brought together for the first time since its convocation to serve the arbitrary rule of Cardinal Richelieu. There sat the two brothers of the King, all the princes of the blood, archbishops, bishops, dukes, peers, the chancellor, high officials of the magistracy, and distinguished nobles, convoked by the King in the interest of his crown. But the people had no representative there. Lafayette became their representative. As he had formerly drawn his sword, so now he raised his voice for popular rights; nor was he deterred by the courtly presence. Startled by his boldness, the Count d’Artois, afterwards Charles the Tenth, attempted to call him to order, as acting on subjects not before the Assembly. “We are summoned,” said Lafayette, “to make the truth known to his Majesty. I must discharge my duty.” He proceeded, and here you see how the great tragedy opened.
By formal propositions, sustained by well-considered reasons, he called for: 1. Removal of Protestant disabilities, and complete establishment of religious toleration; 2. Equality of imposts, and suppression of certain unjust taxes; 3. Abolition of all arbitrary imprisonment, and especially the odious lettre-de-cachet; 4. Revision of the criminal laws; 5. Economy in the royal household, pensions, and all the departments of government.
Following these moderate demands, he made a “motion,”—the first time, it is said, this parliamentary word, so suggestive of liberal discussion, was ever used in France,—and this motion was for nothing less than the convocation of a “National Assembly,”—uttering here two other momentous words, which were then and there for the first time pronounced. “What!” exclaimed the Count d’Artois, “do you demand the States General?” “Yes, and even more,” was the reply of Lafayette.[91]
The States General were convened in May, 1789, at Versailles, in the very shadow of that palace where in latter years the kings and courtiers of the French monarchy had lived like the gods of Olympus, and at once this ancient body took the name of “National Assembly.” Here appeared the imposing figure of Mirabeau, demanding, in the name of the people, that the troops should be removed. By his side was the yet youthful Lafayette, seconding the demand, which he followed by proposing a Declaration of the Rights of Man, embodying not merely specific rights secured by precedent and practice, as in the English Bill of Rights, but the Rights of Man founded on Nature, and above all precedent or practice. Such a statement was known in our country. It constitutes part of the Declaration of Independence, and also of the Constitution of Massachusetts, giving character to each; but it was now for the first time put forth in Europe, illustrating that “American Era” which Lafayette constantly proclaimed. Its importance was immense. It supplied a touchstone for all wrongs, and elevated the hearts of the people. It began as follows.
“Nature has made men free and equal; the distinctions necessary for social order are founded on general utility only. Every man is born with rights inalienable and imprescriptible: such are the liberty of his opinions; the care of his honor and of his life; the right of property; the entire disposal of his person, of his industry, of all his faculties; the communication of his thoughts by all means possible; the pursuit of happiness; and resistance to oppression.”[92]
In launching this Declaration, Lafayette vindicated it as “recalling sentiments which Nature has engraved on the heart of every one, but which take new force when recognized by all; and this development,” he said, “becomes the more interesting, since for a nation to love Liberty it is sufficient that she knows it, and to be free it is sufficient that she wills it.” He stated its further value as “an expression of those truths from which all institutions should spring, and by which the representatives of the nation should be guided.”[93]
The Declaration of the Rights of Man, presented 11th July, 1789, was a victory whose influence can never die. It redounded immediately to the glory of Lafayette. Lally-Tollendal, after declaring the ideas “grand and majestic,” said that their author “speaks of Liberty as he has already defended it.” These were words of sympathy. Already the Archbishop of Sens had remarked in the councils of the King, “Lafayette is the most dangerous of antagonists, as his politics are all in action.”