"They have promised me every thing," Mirabeau replied.
"But suppose they should not keep their word?" it was rejoined.
"Then," said Mirabeau, "I will overthrow the throne and establish a republic."
It can hardly be denied that the Constitution was too democratic for a monarchy and hardly democratic enough for a republic. In the natural course of events public opinion would sway either to strengthening the throne or to diminish still more its prerogatives. There were now four parties in France. The first consisted of the old aristocratic classes of the clergy and the nobles, now mostly emigrants, and busy in effecting a coalition of surrounding monarchies to quell the Revolution, and by fire and sword to reinstate the rejected despotism of the Bourbons.
The second class was composed of the king and Mirabeau, with the queen reluctantly assenting to its principles, and others of the nobles and priests who were disposed, some from choice and others from the consciousness of necessity, partially to accept the Revolution. They were willing to adopt a constitution which should seriously limit the old prerogatives of the crown. But they wished to repudiate the constitution now adopted, and to form one less democratic, which would still grant many prerogatives to the king.
The third party consisted of the great majority of the Assembly, headed by sincere and guileless patriots like La Fayette, and sustained probably by the great majority of the purest and best men in the kingdom, who were in favor of the constitution which the nation had accepted. While they did not regard it as perfect, they felt that it was a noble advance in the right direction, and that the salvation of the liberties of France now depended upon allegiance to this constitution.
There was a fourth class, restless, tumultuous, uninformed, composed of the lowest portion of the populace, who could ever be roused to phrensy by the cry of "Aristocracy," who were ripe for any deeds of violence, and who regarded that firmness of law which protected order, property, and life as tyranny. They occupied the lowest possible platform of democracy.
Such was the condition of France as the Constituent Assembly now endeavored to consolidate the new institutions and to bring harmony from the chaos into which the nation had been plunged. While in these circumstances of unparalleled peril, combined Europe was watching for an opportunity to pounce upon the distracted nation.
All public functionaries were required to take oath to the new constitution. The clergy, as bound by the laws of the Romish Church, appealed to the Pope for instructions. At the same time the opposing bishops and nobles wrote to the Pope urging him to withhold his assent.[261] The king had sanctioned the decrees. The Pope, under various pretexts, postponed an answer. Many of the bishops and curates consequently refused to take the oath. The Assembly was not disposed to wait for the decision of a foreign potentate, and, accepting those bishops and curates who took the oath, immediately nominated new bishops and curates to take the place of those who refused. Justly and frankly the Assembly declared that it wished to do no violence to conscience, but that it could not appoint as public functionaries those men who refused to take the oath of allegiance to the Constitution of the kingdom. This increased exasperation, and enabled many of the bishops to appeal to the fanatic populace to rise in defense of the endangered Church.