Lafayette gazed at the speaker with astonishment. He had witnessed disturbances; he had wept over assassinations; but this was the first time that the breath of revolution had in reality been personally addressed to him.
This possibility that the people saw of being able to do without the king amazed him; it did more, it confounded him.
“How is this?” cried he.” Have you, then, formed the project of making war upon the king, and of thus compelling him to abandon us?”
“General,” replied the spokesman, “we love and we respect the king; we should be much hurt should he leave us, for we owe him much. But, in short, should he leave us, we have the dauphin.”
“Gentlemen! gentlemen!” cried Lafayette, “beware of what you are doing; you are attacking the crown, and it is my duty not to allow such a step!”
“General,” replied the National Guard, bowing, “we would for you shed the last drop of our blood. But the people are unhappy; the source of the evil is at Versailles. We must go to Versailles and bring the king to Paris. It is the people’s will.”
Lafayette saw that it was necessary to sacrifice his own feelings; and this was a necessity from which he never shrank.
He descends into the centre of the square, and wishes to harangue the people; but cries of “To Versailles! To Versailles!” drown his voice.
Suddenly a great tumult was heard proceeding from the Rue de la Vannerie. It is Bailly, who in his turn is coming to the Hôtel de Ville.
At the sight of Bailly, cries of “Bread! Bread! To Versailles!” burst from every side.
Lafayette, on foot, lost amid the crowd, feels that the tide continues rising higher and higher, and will completely swallow him up.
He presses through the crowd, in order to reach his horse, with the same ardor that a shipwrecked mariner swims to reach a rock.
At last he grasps his bridle, vaults on his charger’s back, and urges him on towards the entrance of the Hôtel de Ville; but the way is completely closed to him. Walls of men have grown up between him and it.
“Zounds, General!” cry these men, “you must remain with us.”
At the same time tremendous shouts are heard of “To Versailles! To Versailles!”
Lafayette wavers, hesitates. Yes, undoubtedly, by going to Versailles he may be very useful to the king; but will he be able to master and restrain this crowd who are urging him to Versailles? Will he be able to command these billows which have swept him from his feet, and against which he feels that he will now have to combat for his own safety?
Suddenly a man descends the steps, pushes through the crowd, a letter in his hand, and makes such good use of his feet and elbows, particularly the latter, that he at length reaches Lafayette.
This man was the ever indefatigable Billot.
“Here, General,” said he, “this comes from the Three Hundred.”
It was thus the electors were called.
Lafayette broke the seal, and began to read it to himself; but twenty thousand voices at once cried out:
“The letter! the letter!”
Lafayette was therefore compelled to read the letter aloud. He makes a sign to request that they will be silent. Instantaneously, and as by a miracle, silence succeeds to the immense tumult; and Lafayette reads the following letter, not one word of which was lost by the people:—
“Seeing the state of circumstances and the desire of the people, and on the representation of the commandant-general that it was impossible to refuse, the electors assembled in council authorize the commandant-general, and even order him, to repair to Versailles.
“Four commissaries of the district will accompany him.”
Poor Latayette had absolutely represented nothing to the electors, who were by no means disinclined to leave some portion of the responsibility of the events which were about to happen on his shoulders. But the people,—they believed that he had really made representations, and this coincided so precisely with their views that they made the air ring with their shouts of “Long live Lafayette!”
Lafayette turned pale, but in his turn repeated, “To Versailles”