47. Louis XVI.
CHAPTER XLVII. Louis XVI. (1774-1792)
Louis XV. was succeeded by his grandson, also called Louis, as every French, king since Henry IV. had been. He was twenty years old when he became king, and was an honest, well-meaning young man, who fully intended to do what he could for the country, and to undo as much as possible of the harm his grandfather had done. He had a young wife named Marie Antoinette, the daughter of Maria Theresa, who had fought with the French in the Seven Years' War. Marie Antoinette was beautiful, lively, and kind-hearted, very proud and determined, but foolish and ignorant. She was often much provoked with the king, who, though kind and gentle, was weak and undecided, and never could make up his mind as to what to do in a difficulty, till it was too late to do anything. However, her advice was often bad, for she knew scarcely anything about the country over which she had become queen.
The reign began happily. Louis changed all the old ministers, and did all he could to change the old habits of the courtiers as well. He worked hard himself at his duties as a king, and tried to make his ministers do the same; and to prevent the people about him from wasting their time and money in amusement, dress, and other foolish or bad ways, which had been usual in his grandfather's reign. His chief minister was named Maurepas; he was an old man who had had nothing to do with the Government for so long that he did not understand the state of the country, and gave the young king much advice which did not turn out well for him in the end. But Louis was fortunate enough to have one really great and wise man among his ministers. His name was Turgot, and Louis made him Finance Minister, that is, the minister who has to attend to all that concerns the money of the kingdom, to see that the taxes are collected, to know how much the king has in his treasury, and above all to think of new ways for getting more, so that the treasury may never be empty. This was still as great a difficulty as it always had been in France. The people who had most money to spare paid scarcely any taxes; the poor people already paid so many, that it would have been useless to ask them for more. Turgot did what he could, and made himself many enemies, so many that at last even the king was persuaded that Turgot's plans could never be carried out, and he was sent out of the ministry. The king at one time used to say, "There is no one but Turgot and I who cares, for the people." After this there were several finance ministers, one after the other, who all tried different plans for filling the treasury, and all failed. The most successful was one called M. Necker, who was a great favourite with the people. At this time there was a war between England and the English colonies in America, in which the colonies were successful, and separated themselves entirely from England under a government of their own, which they have kept till the present time. While the war was going on the Americans asked for help against England from many of the countries of Europe, in particular from France, which was nearer to them than Russia, Prussia, or Austria. A band of young French noblemen went over to help the Americans, and had the pleasure of seeing them get the better of the English and end the war(, as I have said,) by a peace, in which they gained all that they had wished.
It is said that these Frenchmen brought back to France the idea of a country without a king and without noblemen, where the people governed themselves; and that hearing of it was one of the reasons which made the French so discontented with their king and all the hardships they had to bear from the proud nobles. In particular, the soldiers heard of the new ideas, and listened to them eagerly. The war was a fresh difficulty to France, by causing still more money to be spent. The nobles would pay no more taxes; the poor could pay no more; and all Necker could do was to borrow money, which, as it all had to be paid back again, did not really help him so much as he had hoped. He gave it up at last, (left off being) minister, and another man was chosen instead of him. By this time the king and queen were no longer such favourites as they had been with the people. The king's faults began to show themselves more. As the difficulties of governing grew greater, he seemed less inclined to struggle against them. His favourite amusements were hunting and locksmith's work; he spent a great deal of time in both of these. He had a locksmith to give him lessons in making locks and keys, and was often engaged in this amusement when he might have been learning things about his country, which it would have been a blessing for him and his subjects if he had known.
The queen was gay and lively, and liked to behave as if she had been a private person; she had a little farm made for her, called Trianon, where she often went in plain clothes, and passed the day in looking after the cows, poultry, and butter. She also gave balls and parties of all kinds at her different palaces and places of amusement, and went constantly to the play, the opera, and all kinds of gaieties. She had boating parties and moonlight parties in her garden, and walked or danced with the gayest of her courtiers for hours at a time, while the king was shut up with his locksmith, enjoying himself as any private person might have done. The people, who were in great distress, were vexed to see the queen enjoying herself in this way, and thought her more heartless than she really was, for she seems to have had a kind heart, and to have wished well to everybody, though she had no idea in what way to please them. The new finance minister soon got into fresh trouble, as Necker had done. He proposed to put some fresh taxes on the nobles and the clergy, and advised the king to call a council of some of the wisest men in the kingdom, in order to propose this tax to them, try to persuade them to agree to it, and ask their advice as to what else could be done to free the country from its difficulties. These men met together, and were called the Notables, as they were supposed to be noted or specially known for being important people among their neighbours. The Notables could not agree to the minister's proposals, and after a few months the Assembly was closed without having done much good, though the angry speeches that had been made might have shown the king's Government that the people were growing more disturbed than they had ever been before, and that they were becoming more and more inclined to examine for themselves into what was going on, and to try to set right the matters which Louis and his ministers did not seem able to set right for them. About this time the king and queen had their first child, a daughter, and (soon) afterwards a son . They gave away a great deal in presents to the poor in honour of these happy events, and so pleased the people for a time; but some of the enemies the king had at court soon managed to stir up the people again against him. Louis had been persuaded to promise to call together the States-General. These had not met since the beginning of the reign of Louis XIII., a hundred and seventy-five years before. It was hoped that the States-General would settle all the affairs of the country, which had now fallen into so much confusion. In the meantime Louis recalled Necker, and made him Finance Minister once more.
The members of the States-General were elected or chosen as they had always been by the people, but there had never before been so much interest in the elections. The old lists of complaints were drawn up by the electors, and given to the deputies, who were to lay them before the king. Twelve hundred members were chosen, some by the nobles, some by the clergy, and the rest by the people. The members all met at Versailles, and they marched in procession into Paris, fifteen miles off, to go to mass at the church of Nôtre Dame. Out of the twelve hundred members, six hundred had been chosen by the people, so that their deputies were half of the whole number, and had as much power as the deputies of the clergy and the nobles added together. There had been different arrangements to prevent this in the old States-General, but now no one was strong enough to resist what the people wished.
The procession was a very grand sight. The deputies of the commons marched first in plain black cloaks and white cravats; then came the nobles, in cloaks of velvet, dyed bright colours, or worked with gold, adorned with rustling laces and waving plumes; after them the clergy in their full dress as priests; and last of all the king himself, with his household all in their most splendid costumes. All along the road were (thick) crowds of people who had come out from Paris to see them pass, and were looking on from roofs of houses, windows, lamp-posts, or from the road, wherever they could find a place to see the deputies pass by. The deputies reached Paris, heard mass, and next day (came) back to Versailles, to the hall where they were to meet, and where the king opened the States-General.
From this time the serious troubles of Louis XVI. began. His people had been angry and discontented before, but he had hardly known it, or had thought that the troubles might easily be set right, if he and the people once understood each other. The people themselves had hardly known how much there was which they disliked and wished to have altered in the Government, till their deputies met together and began to make their grievances seem worse by talking them over with each other. It was so new an idea to the common people of France, that they were strong enough to force the Government to give them what they wished, that they did not know how to use their strength wisely. At this time the king felt the bad results of what Richelieu and Louis XIV. had done in weakening the nobles, and taking away so much of their power that they had no strength left, and could do nothing on the side either of the king or of the people. They might have taken the side of the king, and been ready to defend him against the people, or they might have helped the people to gain the things which it was right that they should have, and have resisted them when they became lawless, and began to take what could not be given up to them.
However, Louis had no idea of fighting with his people, and when the States-General began, the people had no idea of fighting with their king. The deputies of the common people decided to give themselves a name. They had been called the Third Estate, the clergy and the nobles having been the First and the Second Estates, but they now wished for something different, and after some disputing, settled to call themselves the National Assembly, as if they had been there to answer for the whole of France, and the nobles and clergy had been of no importance at all. The other two orders were not strong enough to resist this, especially as the king could not or would not help them.
After this had been settled the National Assembly became more and more violent. The king tried to stop the meetings for a time by shutting up the great hall in which they were usually held; but the deputies at once found another place of meeting, and in a tennis-court close by they took an oath never to separate, whatever any one might do to dismiss them, till they had finished their work of setting right all that had gone wrong in the government of France. Most of the deputies of the clergy came over to the side of the National Assembly, though the deputies of the nobles still resisted them.
The king, at last determined to satisfy his people, and leave them no excuse for refusing to obey him, went to the National Assembly and made a speech, in which he promised to make great alterations in the laws, giving them more than they had ever had before, of the power, the freedom, and the safety, for which, as he knew, they had long wished. Louis fully expected that the Assembly would now be satisfied, but it was too late; the deputies had grown angry, and refused to accept these promises from the king, saying that it was for them to make such laws, not for him. They refused to separate until the next day, as the king had ordered them to do at the end of his speech, went on with their discussions as usual, and when the king's officer came to command them to leave the hall, they replied that they would not go unless they were driven out by the bayonet. This was the first time the king's subjects had actually disobeyed him, and this was the time at which he should have defended his own rights, if he ever meant to defend them; but even now it was hard for him to defend himself, for many of the soldiers took the side of the people, and refused to march when their officers commanded them. The king could never make up his mind in a difficulty; he was slow and undecided, listening to first one person and then another, and always inclined to think other people's opinions better than his own. He commanded the nobles to join with the other two orders in the National Assembly, and they at last did so.
The king now began to feel himself in danger, and he ordered that some bodies of soldiers on whom he thought he might depend, should be brought up round Paris. The Assembly begged him to dismiss these troops, and he refused. A few weeks (after), the king dismissed Necker, the Minister of Finance, who was a great favourite with the people, but who was not able to give any help in these troubles. When the people heard that he was gone, they thought that the king must be planning some great attack upon them. Some of the king's chief enemies made them speeches, telling them they were in great danger, and the townspeople marched through the streets in bodies, with green (boughs) in their hats, carrying busts of Necker in triumph. After this the French Guards, the king's own soldiers, joined the people; they refused to march against the mob, or to listen to their officers, and they drove the foreign troops, who were still faithful to the king, out of Paris. The officers of these troops had no orders from the king; they only made matters worse, and the people more angry, when they tried to keep order. This was a Sunday; the next day, Monday, no work was done. All the shops, except those for food, were shut; the people put on ribbons of red, white, and blue, the old colours of Paris and of the army mixed, in order to show that the people and soldiers were friends. This ribbon of three colours was called the tricolor, and has been the colour of the French Republic ever since.
The people with their ribbons marched through the streets from one place to another asking for arms. On their way they came to a debtors' prison, broke it open, and let out the prisoners. Some other prisoners who were being punished for crimes, not for debt, heard of this, and hoping the people would help them, began to break up the pavement of their prison and prepare to escape; but when the crowd came by they fired down upon the prisoners and made them stay where they were. There were not many arms to be found, but all the smiths of Paris were set to work making them. They found money, more than a hundred thousand pounds, in the Hôtel de Ville, or Town Hall, which they carried off, and bought every musket in the town.
It was reckoned that in thirty-six hours fifty thousand pikes would be ready for the masses of men who were waiting for them. The next day the mob went for arms to the Hôtel of the Invalides, a large building used as a hospital for old soldiers. They rushed to the building, and the governor knew that his troops would not resist them. They made their way in, and carried off thirty thousand muskets and twenty pieces of cannon. The pavement in the streets was pulled up; those who had no arms carried stones; the city was in an uproar, and all this time the king and his advisers and captains could do nothing. The king at Versailles thought there was no danger. When they told him of what was going on, he said, with some surprise, "Why, this is a revolt!" "Sire," one of his friends said, "it is not a revolt, but a revolution." The French Revolution is indeed the name by which this great rising up of the French people against their rulers has always been known. Revolution really means a turning round, and so it is used to express any great change in the state of affairs, of whatever kind. There have been other revolutions in France since this first great one, but no other of so much importance.
The people in Paris next resolved to attack the Bastille, an old and very strong prison, guarded by a governor and garrison, in which important prisoners were kept(, and which answered in some respects in Paris to the Tower in London). The people wished to destroy it, because it belonged to the king, and was a strong place from which they might be attacked; and the king had given special orders to the Government to defend it, whatever might happen. It had thick walls round it, with towers on them, drawbridges, and dry ditches. The people cut the chains of the outer drawbridge, (so that it fell down,) and they were able to make their way into the outer court. For four hours they besieged the building, firing muskets, attacking it with stones and pikes, forcing their way in at doors or windows, till at last the governor, who had only a hundred and thirty men(, and saw that they would fight for him no longer,) handed out a paper, saying that he would give up the castle — opened the doors, came out with his men, and let in the crowd. A promise had been made that his life and the lives of his men should be safe, but it was not kept. He and many of the others were put to death by the angry people as they went through the streets. The Bastille was destroyed, and the prisoners, of whom there were only seven, set free.
The next day the king went to the Assembly, promised that the foreign troops should leave Paris, and assured the deputies that he was ready to do what his people wished. He went into Paris, where he showed himself with a tricolor cockade in his hat, and was loudly cheered by the people. He went back again to Versailles, hoping that everything might yet go well.
The nobles saw more clearly that this was impossible. The king would never be able to control the people; he was too weak, and they were too angry to be kept quiet, except by force. The nobles, who were also weak, instead of staying to do the best they could for the king, left him and their country, and went away to Germany and the neighbouring countries, where they waited till it should be safe for them to go back again into France. This is called the Emigration of the Nobles. Their servants, who were left with nothing to do, went at once to join in the disturbances and confusion that were now going on, not only in Paris, but all over France.
The peasants were rising up to murder their lords, burn down their houses, and destroy their property. They were not satisfied with putting their prisoners to death, but tortured them first in many horrible ways. In Paris, if a man was of noble family it was considered reason enough for hanging him in the streets without any kind of trial. The streets of Paris at this time were lighted by lanterns hung on chains stretched across the road from one side to another, and so arranged, that when the lamp was to be lighted the chains could be loosened and the lantern let down so low as to be reached from the street. The usual way which the people chose of putting their enemies to death was to lower the lantern in this way, fasten the prisoner to it by the neck, and then draw the lantern up again.
All order was entirely at an end in Paris, and as no one did any work, there was soon great distress; a large crowd gathered every morning round the bakers' doors, and formed themselves into a queue, that is, a tail or long row, each going up in turn for his loaf as soon as the doors were opened. The women of Paris were usually sent to stand in the queues and buy bread, while their husbands were joining in whatever was going on. Many of these women were fishwives, or sellers of some kind of goods, wild, fierce, strong women, often more cruel than the men.
One morning in October a body of these women were waiting as usual in the streets for their daily supply of bread. The evening before the king and queen had given a large party at Versailles. A new body of soldiers had joined the troops the king had with him, and were welcomed by a grand dinner. Louis and his queen went round to see the feast (as it went) on, and the soldiers received them with loud cheers, and sang a loyal song, "Richard, my king, the world has all forsaken thee." The poor queen, who had so few friends left, was much pleased at this friendliness; she gave cockades of white ribbon, which was the royal colour, to the soldiers; they drank her health, and were eager to put on her colours.
An account of this had come to Paris. The people were angry to hear of fresh troops being at Versailles. The women were very likely provoked to think of all this feasting going on so near at hand, while they and their children were starving. A young woman took up a drum and began to walk through the streets, beating it and calling out, "Bread ! bread !" All the other women joined her in a body, and they went to the Hôtel de Ville, (or Town Hall,) broke into it, and took out arms, and then finding some of their friends, and of the king's enemies, to lead them, set out for Versailles to speak to the king himself and the National Assembly, and ask for bread. The distance from Paris to Versailles <, as I already stated,> is about fifteen miles. The women took nearly seven hours for the march. It was raining, and (the women) were dripping with wet by the time they reached Versailles. Numbers of men had followed them, and some of the National Guard, or the soldiers of Paris. All these people came to the hall of the Assembly, and sent in a few women to ask for leave to go and speak to the king. They were allowed to go with some of the deputies from the Assembly, and the king spoke to them kindly, and promised that food should be sent to Paris, and that grain should be sold cheaply.
When the people who had been waiting for an answer to their message heard of the king's promises, they said words were not enough, and they must have food at once. They broke into the hall of Assembly, and would have broken into the palace if the guards had not kept them back. The business of the Assembly was stopped by the women shouting to the deputies as they got up to speak, "Bread ! Not so many long speeches." This went on all the evening, till at last night came. The crowd had to sleep in sheds, coffee-houses, churches, or under whatever shelter they could find.
The king and queen, who had been in great distress and trouble all the day, could even now scarcely decide whether to resist the people boldly, to agree to all they wished, or to make their escape to Germany, where their friends the nobles were, and leave matters in France to take their course. The queen was always brave and active, and she tried to persuade Louis to call out his soldiers and resist the people, but to this he could not make up his mind.
Early the next morning a dispute arose between the crowd outside and the soldiers in the palace. The mob attacked the gates, killed some of the guards, and made their way into the palace. The queen had to escape in her dressing-gown to the king's room, thinking her own would be broken into by the people, but her guards were able to defend her door until a body of friendly soldiers came to their help. The people were at last persuaded to leave the palace by Lafayette, the captain of the National Guard, who was a friend both of them and of the king and queen. Later in the day the king came out on the balcony, and spoke to the crowd of people. They invited him to go with them to Paris, thinking that if he were there he would be forced to keep his promises for the supply of bread. The king at last agreed to go, and set out the same day with the queen, who had refused to be separated from him, whatever risks she ran, and their two children — a daughter and a son. They went back in their carriage with the procession of women, who shouted out jokes and insults at them all the way. "Here is the baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's boy," was one of their rude jokes. The royal family was taken to the palace of the Tuileries, and they never, except once, left Paris again.
The reign of Louis may be said to be over. A king who is a prisoner in his capital in the power of a mob can hardly be said to govern, though he was still called king, and still expected by his people to set everything right for them, though they had left him scarcely any power to do anything. I will continue the story of the Revolution in another chapter.