The Memoirs of François René Vicomte de Chateaubriand sometime Ambassador to England, Volume 1 (of 6): Mémoires d'outre-tombe, volume 1Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de
General
The Memoirs of François René Vicomte de Chateaubriand sometime Ambassador to England, Volume 1 (of 6): Mémoires d'outre-tombe, volume 1
Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de
Chateaubriand, François-René, vicomte de, 1768-1848
The experts hurried to assist at the _post-mortem_ examination of
the Bastille. Temporary cafés were established under tents; people
hastened thither as to the fair at Saint-Germain or to Longchamp;
numbers of carriages drove slowly past, or stopped at the foot of the
towers, whence the stones were being hurled down amid whirlwinds of
dust. Elegantly-dressed women and fashionable young men stood upon
different points of the Gothic rubbish, and mingled with the half-naked
workmen engaged in demolishing the walls amid the acclamations of the
crowd. At this meeting-place were to be seen the most famous orators,
the best-known men of letters, the most celebrated painters, the most
renowned actors and actresses, the most popular dancers, the most
illustrious foreigners, the nobles of the Court and the ambassadors of
Europe: old France had come there to end, new France to commence, its
existence.
No event, however wretched or hateful in itself, should be treated
lightly when its circumstances are serious, or when it marks an epoch:
what should have been seen in the capture of the Bastille (and what
was not then seen) was, not the violent act of the emancipation of a
people, but the emancipation itself which resulted from that act.
[Sidenote: The fall of the Bastille.]
Men admired what they ought to condemn, the accident, and did not seek
to discover in the future the accomplishment of a peopled destiny,
the changes in morals, ideas, political power, a renovation of the
human race, of which the capture of the Bastille, like a blood-stained
jubilee, inaugurated the era. Brutal anger wrought ruins, and beneath
that anger was concealed the intelligence which laid among those ruins
the foundations of the new edifice.
But the nation, deceived as to the grandeur of the material fact, was
not deceived as to the grandeur of the moral fact: in the eyes of the
nation, the Bastille was the trophy of its servitude, and seemed to
be erected at the entrance to Paris, opposite the sixteen pillars of
Montfaucon[333], as the gibbet of its liberties[334]. In demolishing a
State fortress, the people considered that it was breaking the military
yoke, and made a tacit engagement to take the place of the army which
it was disbanding: we know what prodigies were wrought by the people
turned soldier.
*
Awakened by the sound of the fall of the Bastille, as though by the
premonitory sound of the fall of the throne, Versailles had lapsed
from the heights of self-confidence to the depths of despondency. The
King hurried to the National Assembly, and delivered a speech from the
president's chair; he declared that an order had been given for the
withdrawal of the troops, and returned to his palace amid a shower of
benedictions. A vain parade! Parties do not believe in the conversion
of the opposing parties: the liberty which capitulates, or the power
which degrades itself, receives no mercy from its foes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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