the gardens of the Palais Royal, where Marat, Camille Desmoulins, and other popular orators harangued the excited crowds.  There were insurrections at Versailles, which was filled with foreign soldiers.  The French guards fraternized with the people whom they were to subdue.  Necker in despair resigned, or was dismissed.  None of the authorities could command obedience.  The people were starving, and the bakers’ shops were pillaged.  The crowds broke open the prisons, and released many who had been summarily confined.  Troops were poured into Paris, and the old Duke of Broglie, one of the heroes of the Seven Years’ War, now war-minister, sought to overawe the city.  The gun-shops were plundered, and the rabble armed themselves with whatever weapons they could lay their hands upon.  The National Assembly decreed the formation of a national guard to quell disturbances, and placed Lafayette at the head of it.  Besenval, who commanded the royal troops, was forced to withdraw from the capital.  The city was completely in the hands of the insurgents, who were driven hither and thither by every passion which can sway the human soul.  Patriotic zeal blended with envy, hatred, malice, revenge, and avarice.  The mob at last attacked the Bastille, a formidable fortress where state-prisoners were arbitrarily confined.  In spite of moats and walls and guns, this gloomy monument of royal tyranny was easily taken, for it was manned by only about one hundred and forty men, and had as provisions only two sacks of flour.  No aid could possibly come to the rescue.  Resistance was impossible, in its unprepared state for defence, although its guns, if properly manned, might have demolished the whole Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

The news of the fall of this fortress came like a thunder-clap over Europe.  It announced the reign of anarchy in France, and the helplessness of the King.  On hearing of the fall of the Bastille, the King is said to have exclaimed to his courtiers, “It is a revolt, then.”  “Nay, sire,” said the Duke of Liancourt, “it is a revolution.”  It was evident that even then the King did not comprehend the situation.  But how few could comprehend it!  Only one man saw the full tendency of things, and shuddered at the consequences,—­and this man was Mirabeau.

The King, at last aroused, appeared in person in the National Assembly, and announced the withdrawal of the troops from Paris and the recall of Necker.  But general mistrust was alive in every bosom, and disorders still continued to a frightful extent, even in the provinces.  “In Brittany the towns appointed new municipalities, and armed a civic guard from the royal magazines.  In Caen the people stormed the citadel and killed the officers of the salt-tax.  Nowhere were royal intendants seen.  The custom-houses, at the gates of the provincial cities, were demolished.  In Franche-Comte a noble castle was burned every day.  All kinds of property were exposed to the most shameful robbery.”