Or rather a minority of the assembly, who wished to be removed to the capital, by exciting and humouring the people, directed the majority; and in the same manner has the dignity of the representative body ever since been trampled under foot by selfishness, or the blind zeal of vanity.—It is in reality from this epocha, not forgetting such a leading circumstance, that the commencement of the reign of anarchy may be fairly dated. For, though a tolerable degree of order was preserved a considerable time after, because a multitude long accustomed to servitude do not immediately feel their own strength; yet they soon began to tyrannize over one part of their representatives, stimulated by the other. They, however, continued to respect the decrees of the national assembly especially as there were rarely any passed on which the public opinion had not been previously consulted, directed as it was by the popular members, who gained their constant suffrage by the stale trick of crying out for more freedom. It was the indispensable duty of the deputies to respect the dignity of their body—Instead of which, for sinister purposes, many of them instructed the people how to tyrannize over the assembly; thus deserting the main principle of representation, the respect due to the majority. This first grand desertion of the principles, which they affected to adopt in all their purity, led to public misery; involving these short-sighted men in the very ruin they had themselves produced by their mean intrigues.
The authoritative demand of the parisians was striking so directly at the freedom of the assembly, that they must either have been conscious of wanting power, or they had no conception of dignity of action, otherwise they would not have suffered the requisition of the people to have been complied with. Yet they seem to have considered it, if it be not paradoxical to assert it, as an advancement of their independence; or, perhaps, as giving security to their authority, childishly proud of regulating the business of the nation, though under the influence of the parisian despotism.
It is true, such things are the natural consequence of weakness, the effects of inexperience, and the more fatal errours of cowardice. And such will always be the effects of timid, injudicious measures. Men who have violated the sacred feelings of eternal justice, except they are hardened in vice, are never afterwards able to look honest men in the face; and a legislature, watched by an intelligent public, a public that claims the right of thinking for itself, will never after go beyond it, or pass one decree which is not likely to be popular.
To consult the public mind in a perfect state of civilization, will not only be necessary, but it will be productive of the happiest consequences, generating a government emanating from the sense of the nation, for which alone it can legally exist. The progress of reason being gradual, it is the wisdom of the legislature to advance the simplification of it’s political system, in a manner best adapted to the state of improvement of the understanding of the nation. The sudden change which had happened in France, from the most fettering tyranny to an unbridled liberty, made it scarcely to be expected, that any thing should be managed with the wisdom of experience: it was morally impossible. But it is nevertheless a deplorable reflection, that such evils must follow every revolution, when a change of politics equally material is required.—Thus it becomes more peculiarly the duty of the historian to record truth; and comment with freedom.
Every nation, deprived by the progress of it’s civilization of strength of character, in changing it’s government from absolute despotism to enlightened freedom, will, most probably, be plunged into anarchy, and have to struggle with various species of tyranny before it is able to consolidate it’s liberty; and that, perhaps, cannot be done, until the manners and amusements of the people are completely changed.
The refinement of the senses, by producing a susceptibility of temper, which from it’s capriciousness leaves no time for reflection, interdicts the exercise of the judgment. The lively effusions of mind, characteristically peculiar to the french, are as violent as the impressions are transitory: and their benevolence evaporating in sudden gusts of sympathy, they become cold in the same proportion as their emotions are quick, and the combinations of their fancy brilliant. People who are carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, are most frequently betrayed by their imagination, and commit some errour, the conviction of which not only damps their heroism, but relaxes the nerve of common exertions. Freedom is a solid good, that requires to be treated with reverence and respect.—But, whilst an effeminate race of heroes are contending for her smiles, with all the blandishments of gallantry, it is to their more vigorous and natural posterity, that she will consign herself with all the mild effulgence of artless charms.
CHAPTER III.
THE MOB DEMAND THE KING’S REMOVAL TO PARIS. THIS CITY DESCRIBED. THE KING REPAIRS TO THE CAPITAL, ESCORTED BY A DEPUTATION OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY AND THE PARISIAN MILITIA. THE KING’S TITLE CHANGED. PROCEEDINGS OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. REFLECTIONS ON THE DECLARATION OF RIGHTS.
After the wild tumult, on the morning of the 6th of october, abated, the king showed himself to the people, in the balcony, and the queen followed with the dauphin in her arms. At first, he vainly attempted to speak; but La Fayette informed the people, that his majesty came forward to assure them, that it should be the business of his life to contribute to the happiness of his people. The king at Paris, exclaimed a voice, which was quickly re-echoed by the crowd. ‘My children,’ replied the king, ‘you wish me to be at Paris, and I will go; but it is on the condition, that my wife and family accompany me.’ A loud shout of vive le roi testified the extacy of the moment. The king made a sign to demand silence; and then, with tears in his eyes addressed them again.—‘Ah! my children, run to the relief of my guards.’ Immediately two or three appeared in the balcony with the national cockade in their hats, or the cap of liberty on their heads. The king threw his arms round one of them, and the people following his example embraced those whom they had taken prisoners in the court. One sentiment of gladness seemed to animate the whole concourse of people; and their sensibility produced as mad demonstrations of joy as lately had been displayed of ferocity. The soldiery all mingled together, exchanging swords, hats, or shoulder belts—exhibiting in the most striking manner the prominent features of the french character.
Meanwhile the assembly, instead of instantly examining into the particulars of that alarming convulsion, and exerting themselves to cause a proper respect to be paid to the sovereignty of the law, childishly gave way to the universal transport: instead of considering the peremptory wish of the people to remove the king to Paris as a distrust of their wisdom, as well as of the veracity of the court, which was in some measure the case, they unanimously agreed to the motion of Mirabeau, seconded by Barnave, ‘that the king and assembly should not be separated during the present sessions.’ Mirabeau, and other popular members, were probably glad to have the person of the king secured, without being obliged to appear, in an ostensible manner, in the affair; because they always endeavoured to keep a little hold on the court, whilst they led the people. Such are the pitiful shifts of men, who are not guided by the compass of moral principles, which alone render the character dignified or consistent. Readily then acquiescing in a measure the most fatal and contemptible, they decreed, that the assembly was inseparable from the person of the king, and sent a deputation to inform him of this resolve, previous to his departure.
That Louis, finding all his projects for the present defeated, and after such a narrow escape for his life, should readily have acceded to the demand of the multitude, is not in the least extraordinary.—But, that the representatives of the nation should, without resistance or remonstrance, have surrendered their authority, and thrown themselves head-long into the heart of a city, which could be suddenly agitated, and put into the most disorderly and dangerous commotion, by the intrigues or folly of any desperate or factious leader of the multitude—suffering themselves to be environed by it’s wall, shut in by it’s barriers—in a word—choosing to live in a capacious prison; for men forced, or drawn into any such situation, are in reality slaves or prisoners,—almost surpasses belief. This absurd conduct, in fact, can be accounted for only by considering the national character, and the different though equally interested views, of the court and popular parties, in the assembly.