and there
was hope that the Assembly, standing by him, would prevent an outbreak
of war. He conveyed the royal message to the Assembly, at a night
sitting, much hindered by the continued presence of the visitors from
Paris. Just then Lafayette arrived, with his overwhelming force. He
assured Mounier and his friends that the men he commanded would now be
easy to satisfy. But he said nothing of the real purpose of his
presence there. From the Assembly he passed on to the king. Leaving
his 20,000 men behind him in the darkness, he appeared at the Palace
gate, accompanied only by the commissaries from the Hotel de Ville.
The Swiss behind the bars warned him to reflect what he was about to
do. For he was entering a place crowded with men passionately excited
against the revolutionary general, who, whether he came to save or to
destroy, was no longer a subject, but a master. The general told them
to let him in. As he passed, a voice called out, "There goes
Cromwell." Lafayette stood still and answered, "Cromwell would not
have come alone." Madame de Stael watched him as he entered the royal
presence. His countenance, she says, was calm. Nobody ever saw it
otherwise. Lewis received him with a sensation of relief, for he felt
that he was safe. At that moment the sovereign indeed had perished,
but the man was safe. The language of Lafayette was respectful and
satisfactory. He left to his companions the disagreeable duty of
imposing terms, and they exposed to the king the object of this
strange interposition of the middle class in arms. He replied that he
had already sanctioned the Rights of Man, that the minister would
arrange with the municipality for the provisioning of Paris, that he
himself would trust his person to the custody of the National Guard.
The fourth, and only essential matter, the transfer of the Court to
Paris, was left unsettled. That was to be the work reserved for the
morrow. Word was sent to the Hotel de Ville that all was well.
Lafayette, holding the issue in his hands, betrayed no impatience, and
abstained from needless urging. His men undertook the outer line of
defence, but the Palace itself was left to the Royal Guards. The king
did not at once realise the position, and attempted to combine the old
order with the new. For the remainder of the night there was a divided
command and an uncertain responsibility. Between Lafayette outside and
D'Estaing within, there was an unguarded door.
The general
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