Critical Miscellanies | Page 9

word,' was in Burke's
judgment to be dated from the Sixth of October 1789.
The events of that day did, indeed, give its definite cast to the situation.
The moral authority of the sovereign came to an end, along with the
ancient and reverend mystery of the inviolability of his person. The
Count d'Artois, the King's second brother, one of the most worthless of
human beings, as incurably addicted to sinister and suicidal counsels in
1789 as he was when he overthrew his own throne forty years later, had
run away from peril and from duty after the insurrection of July. After
the insurrection of October, a troop of the nobles of the court followed
him. The personal cowardice of the Emigrants was only matched by
their political blindness. Many of the most unwise measures in the
Assembly were only passed by small majorities, and the majorities
would have been transformed into minorities, if in the early days of the
Revolution these unworthy men had only stood firm at their posts.
Selfish oligarchies have scarcely ever been wanting in courage. The
emigrant noblesse of France are almost the only instance of a great
privileged and territorial caste that had as little bravery as they had
patriotism. The explanation is that they had been an oligarchy, not of
power or duty, but of self-indulgence. They were crushed by Richelieu
to secure the unity of the monarchy. They now effaced themselves at
the Revolution, and this secured that far greater object, the unity of the
nation.
The disappearance of so many of the nobles from France was not the
only abdication on the part of the conservative powers. Cowed and
terrified by the events of October, no less than three hundred members
of the Assembly sought to resign. The average attendance even at the

most important sittings was often incredibly small. Thus the Chamber
came to have little more moral authority in face of the people of Paris
than had the King himself. The people of Paris had themselves become
in a day the masters of France.
This immense change led gradually to a decisive alteration in the
position of Robespierre. He found the situation of affairs at last falling
into perfect harmony with his doctrine. Rousseau had taught him that
the people ought to be sovereign, and now the people were being
recognised as sovereign de facto no less than de jure. Any limitations
on the new divine right united the horror of blasphemy to the secular
wickedness of political treason. After the Assembly had come to Paris,
a famishing mob in a moment of mad fury murdered an unfortunate
baker, who was suspected of keeping back bread. These paroxysms led
to the enactment of a new martial law. Robespierre spoke vehemently
against it; such a law implied a wrongful distrust of the people. Then
discussions followed as to the property qualification of an elector.
Citizens were classed as active and passive. Only those were to have
votes who paid direct taxes to the amount of three days' wages in the
year. Robespierre flung himself upon this too famous distinction with
bitter tenacity. If all men are equal, he cried, then all men ought to have
votes: if he who only pays the amount of one day's work, has fewer
rights than another who pays the amount of three days, why should not
the man who pays ten days have more rights than the other who only
pays the earnings of three days? This kind of reasoning had little
weight with the Chamber, but it made the reasoner very popular with
the throng in the galleries. Even within the Assembly, influence
gradually came to the man who had a parcel of immutable axioms and
postulates, and who was ready with a deduction and a phrase for each
case as it arose. He began to stand out like a needle of sharp rock, amid
the flitting shadows of uncertain purpose and the vapoury drift of
wandering aims.
Robespierre had no social conception, and he had nothing which can be
described as a policy. He was the prophet of a sect, and had at this
period none of the aims of the chief of a political party. What he had
was democratic doctrine, and an intrepid logic. And Robespierre's

intrepid logic was the nearest approach to calm force and coherent
character that the first three years of the Revolution brought into
prominence. When the Assembly met, Necker was the popular idol.
Almost within a few weeks, this well-meaning, but very incompetent
divinity had slipped from his throne, and Lafayette had taken his place.
Mirabeau came next. The ardent and animated genius of his eloquence
fitted him above all men to ride the whirlwind and direct the storm.
And on the memorable Twenty-third of June '89,