In exitu Israel

by S. Baring-Gould

Of all the monuments in Versailles, that old, plain, unfurnished Tennis Court is the most interesting. The Englishman visiting Versailles should not forget that the immense palace is but a monument of despotism;—that its grandeur, such as it is, cries aloud of a pride and selfishness so alarming, that Louis XIV burnt the bills for its erection, not venturing to allow them to be seen, whilst France was starving and sinking under a load of debt; while the Jeu de Paume, as the birthplace of the nascent liberties of France, humble and unadorned as it remains, is worthy of his most reverent regard.

It was a spacious room, without true windows, but with large openings netted over, which admit light, air, and rain. The walls, covered with yellow wash, were festooned with cobwebs, the roof was unceiled; the floor rudely laid with common pavement, and unprovided with seats.

A chair was borrowed from the owner of the Tennis Court for the president, but Bailly declined it. A table was brought in; the secretaries seated themselves at it, and the president stood on a bench. Two deputies stationed themselves at the door to keep it, but were speedily relieved by the keeper of the Tennis Court, who offered his services. Couthon was brought in on his crutches, and to him the seat of the president was given, in consideration of his infirmities. Grégoire, with his beautiful eyes alight with animation, entered, followed by four other curés, Besse, Ballard, Jallet, and Lecesve, in their black cassocks and cloaks. Rabaud-Saint-Étienne, the Calvinist minister, was there, dressed in the uniform of the lay delegates,—black coat, black waistcoat, black knee-breeches, and black stockings. Dom Gerle, the Carthusian, was also there, with shaven head, and white serge habit. Robespierre with his needle eyes, and retreating forehead—Mirabeau shaking his Medusa-like head and locks, and stamping with indignation—Mounier, prim and composed—Buzot, his long face composed into a contemptuous smile, wearing his natural dark hair divided over his brow, his heavy lids lifted a little to dart a scornful glance around—Sieyez frozen as ever.

Bailly, rising, said, in a voice faltering with agitation,—'Gentlemen, there is no need for me to give expression to the feeling dominant in every breast. I propose that we deliberate on the part we should take in a time so beset with storms.'

Mounier, standing on a form, said:—'It seems to me most strange that we, the representatives of France, should find our hall occupied by armed men, that we should be cast adrift in the streets without shelter, that no official notice should have been sent to our president, for I cannot regard the communication of the master of the ceremonies as a notice;—that we should be obliged to take refuge in this old tennis-court for want of a better room, in order that we may continue our labours. I think all this is more than strange: it is a proof to us that the Court party are resolved on wounding us in our rights and our dignities, that they are determined by their intrigues to exasperate the king against us, that they are bent on trampling the liberties of the people under their feet. I propose, in the face of so compact and resolute an opposition, that the representatives of the nation should take a solemn oath to cling together till they have given to France a constitution.'

This proposition was warmly received. An oath was drawn up, and Bailly, mounting on the table, read it aloud:—'We swear never to separate from the National Assembly, and to meet wherever circumstances shall permit, till the constitution of this realm has been established and affirmed on solid foundations.'

Instantly every arm was raised towards Bailly, and every mouth took up the formula; and the mob without burst forth into shouts of 'Vive l'Assemblée! Vive le Roi!'

On the morrow, the road to Marly was thronged with nobles and bishops on their way to the king to beseech him to restrain the audacity of the commons. A small minority protested against royal intervention; it was composed of forty-seven members, the Dukes of Liancourt and of La Rochefoucauld, Lally-Tolendal, the two Lameths, Duport, and La Fayette.

The royal sitting fixed for Monday, the 22nd, was postponed to the 23rd. All kinds of mean intrigue were had recourse to to prevent a meeting of the Third Estate and the union with it of the house of the Clergy on the Monday. The Count d'Artois sent to the owner of the tennis-court and engaged it for the day, so that the Assembly was again turned adrift in the streets of Versailles.

Lindet, mounting a cart which was passing, but which had been arrested by the crowd that encumbered the street before the tennis-court, cried aloud:—