Condorcet, an aristocrat by genius, although an aristocrat by birth, became a democrat from philosophy.  His passion was the transformation of human reason.  He wrote La Chronique de Paris.

Carra, an obscure demagogue, had created for himself a name of fear in the Annales Patriotiques.  Freron, in the Orateur du Peuple, rivalled Marat.  Fauchet, in the Bouche de Fer, elevated democracy to a level with religious philosophy.  The “last not least,” Laclos, an officer of artillery, author of an obscene novel, and the confidant of the Duc d’Orleans, edited the Journal des Jacobins, and stirred up through France the flame of ideas and words of which the focus was in the clubs.

All these men used their utmost efforts to impel the people beyond the limits which Barnave had prescribed to the event of the 21st June.  They desired to avail themselves of the instant when the throne was left empty to obliterate it from the constitution.  They overwhelmed the king with insults and objurgations, in order that the Assembly might not dare to replace at the head of their institutions a prince whom they had vilified.  They clamoured for interrogatory, sentence, forfeiture, abdication, imprisonment, and hoped to degrade royalty for ever by degrading the king.  The republic saw its hour for the first moment, and trembled to allow it to escape.  All these hands at once urged men’s minds towards a decisive movement.  Articles in the journals provoked motions, motions petitions, and petitions riots.  The altar of the country in the Champ-de-Mars, which remained erected for a new federation, was the place which was already pointed out for the assemblies of the people.  It was the Mons Aventinus, whither it was to retire, and whence it was to dictate to a timid and corrupt senate.

“No more king,—­let us be republicans,” wrote Brissot in the Patriote.  “Such is the cry at the Palais Royal, and it does not gain ground fast enough; it would seem as though it were blasphemy.  This repugnance for assuming the name of the condition in which the state actually is is very extraordinary in the eyes of philosophy.”  “No king! no protector! no regent!  Let us have done with man-eaters of every sort and kind,” re-echoed the Bouche de Fer.  “Let the eighty-three departments enter into a federation, and declare that they will no longer endure tyrants, monarchs, or protectors.  Their shade is as fatal to the people as that of the Bohonupas is deadly to all that lives.  If we nominate a regent we shall soon fight for the choice of a master.  Let us only contend for liberty.”

Provoked by this reference to the regency, which appeared to point to him, the Duc d’Orleans wrote to the journals that he was ready to serve his country by land or by sea; but in respect to any question of regency, he from that moment renounced, and for ever, any pretensions to that title which the constitution might give him.  “After having made so many sacrifices to the cause of the people,” he said, “I am no longer in a condition to quit my position as a simple citizen.  Ambition in me would be an inexcusable inconsistency.”