s elected by the people in all
parts of France to the States-General. The Assembly, "the true era of
the birth of the French people," opened on May fifth in the immense
_Salle des Menus_, on the Paris Avenue, outside the gates of the palace.
During the thirty days that the deputies sat inactive under the oratory
of the King, of Necker, Mirabeau and Robespierre, work ceased throughout
the kingdom. "He who had but his hands, his daily labor, to supply the
day, went to look for work, found none, begged, got nothing, robbed.
Starving gangs over-ran the country; wherever they found any resistance,
they became furious, killed, and burned. Horror spread far and near;
communications ceased, and famine went on increasing." At last the
Assembly was founded, but the nation remained in tumult, the King
vacillating, the Queen in retirement, mourning the death of the little
Dauphin. On June twentieth, the people's representatives gathered, in
spite of the King, in the bare tennis-court, without the walls of the
chateau, and made oath as citizens of France never to adjourn until they
had given their country a constitution. On the same day Marie Antoinette
inscribed a letter from Versailles whose import was in piteous contrast
to the prattling epistles of her girlhood. "The Chambre Nationale is
declared," she wrote. "They are deliberating, but I am in despair to see
nothing come of their deliberations; every one is greatly alarmed. The
nobility may be wiped out forever. But the kingdom will be calm; if not,
one cannot estimate the evils by which we shall be menaced. . . . Not
far away civil war exists, and, besides, bread is lacking. God give us
courage!" Three days later the King read to the deputies an arbitrary
declaration that had been composed by interested advisers. He commanded
the assembly to disperse, and met a calm and silent resistance. Workmen
entered to demolish the amphitheater, but laid down their tools on the
declaration of Mirabeau that "whoever laid hands on a deputy was a
traitor, infamous and worthy of death." At last the King, wearied and
confused, commanded, "Let them alone."

The parterres, the courts, even the salons of the palace swarmed with
ruffians that had marched out from Paris to menace Versailles. By June
25th there was open revolt in the capital. "A stormy, heavy, gloomy
time, like a feverish, painful dream," prefaced the furious deeds of the
14th of July. Every day witnessed some new