Such was the condition of the people when La Fayette presented to the National Assembly a Declaration of Rights. It resembled the Declaration of Independence in many particulars, and declared that all men are free and equal. It was on Saturday, July 11th, 1789, that La Fayette presented the Declaration of Rights. Sunday came, and the troops were marching. The king had resolved to disperse the National Assembly, and if the people resisted to mow them down with cannon balls. A great crowd assembled in the Palais Royal Garden. They eagerly asked "What is to be done?" A young man named Camille Desmoulins, sprang upon a table, with a pistol in each hand to defend himself. "To arms! to arms!" he cried, "we must defend ourselves!" He plucked a green leaf and put it in his hat-band, for a plume. The people followed his example. They had no arms, but there were muskets in the great arsenal, called the Hotel des Invalides. They broke it open and armed themselves. The cry rung through the streets, "Down with the Bastile!" They rushed to the gloomy prison and planted their cannon to batter down the gates. The guards in the Bastile were heart and soul with the people. They hung out a white flag, and the prison was surrendered. Then came forth to the light of day the emaciated victims who had been so long immured in its filthy dungeons. A duke rode to the king's palace at Versailles to tell the news. "It is a revolt," exclaimed the king. The duke replied, "Nay, sire, it is a revolution." The deluge of blood had come. Revengeful men were roaming the streets of Paris murdering the nobles and the clergy. The National Assembly ordered {190} the Bastile to be torn down, and the people leveled it to the ground. In Strasburg, was a young man named Rouget de l'Isle. One day he was dining with his friend Dietrich, and they talked of liberty and equal rights. After dinner, he went to his chamber, sat down to the clavichord and began to play and sing. His soul was on fire for liberty for France. He seemed to be wrought upon by a higher power. Words came, and with them a strange, wild melody. He did not know which came first. He sang and played, and played and sang, and felt a strange delight. At length his head fell upon his breast: he was asleep. The morning sun was shining in his face when he awoke and the song was still stirring in his heart. He called in his friend Dietrich to hear it, he liked it well, and other friends were called in to hear it. A young lady sat down to the clavichord and played while Rouget de l'Isle sang: "Ye sons of freedom, wake to glory! Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives and grand-sires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries! "Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling host, a ruffian band, While peace and liberty lie bleeding, Affright and desolate the land?