e walls,
with heads uncovered, and a strong and spontaneous burst of enthusiasm,
made a solemn vow, with the exception of only one person present, never
to separate till they had given France a constitution.

This memorable and decisive event took place on June 20th. On the 23d
the King came to the Church of St. Louis, whither they had been
compelled to remove, and where they were joined by a considerable number
of the clergy; addressed them in a tone of authority and reprimand,
treated them as simply the Tiers Etat, pointed out certain partial
reforms which he approved, and which he enjoined them to effect in
conjunction with the other orders, or threatened to dissolve them and
take the whole management of the government upon himself, and ended with
a command that they should separate. The nobles and the clergy obeyed;
the deputies of the people remained firm, immovable, silent.

Mirabeau then started from his seat and appealed to the Assembly in that
mixed style of the academician and the demagogue which characterized his
eloquence. The words are worth repeating here, both as a sample of the
unqualified tone of the period and on account of the fierce and personal
attack on the King, whom he stigmatizes by a sort of nickname.
"Gentlemen, I acknowledge that what you have just heard might be a
pledge of the welfare of the country, if the offers of despotism were
not always dangerous. What is the meaning of this insolent dictation,
the array of arms, the violation of the national temple, merely to
command you to be happy? Who gives you this command? your _Mandatory_
['deputy']. Who imposes his imperious laws? your Mandatory, he who ought
to receive them from you; from us, gentlemen, who are invested with an
inviolable political priesthood; from us, in short, to whom, and to whom
alone, twenty-five millions of men look up for a happiness insured by
its being agreed upon, given, and received by all. But the freedom of
your deliberations is suspended: a military force surrounds the
Assembly! Where are the enemies of the nation, that this outrage should
be attempted? Is Catiline at our gates? I demand that in asserting the
claims of your insulted dignity, of your legislative power, you arm
yourselves with the sanctity of your oath: it does not permit us to
separate till we have achieved the constitution."

From this unbridled effusion of bombast, affectation, and real passion
two things are evident: first, that the designs