this scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the King's
quitting Versailles and withdrawing to Metz, and to prevent at the
same time the consequences that might ensue between the Garde du Corps
and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expresses to the King,
that he was on his march to Versailles, by the orders of the civil
authority of Paris, for the purpose of peace and protection,
expressing at the same time the necessity of restraining the Garde
du Corps from firing upon the people.*[3]

  He arrived at Versailles between ten and eleven at night. The
Garde du Corps was drawn up, and the people had arrived some time
before, but everything had remained suspended. Wisdom and policy now
consisted in changing a scene of danger into a happy event. M. de la
Fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the King,
to remove the uneasiness which had arisen from the delay already
stated, sent for the President of the National Assembly, and signed
the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and such other parts of the
constitution as were in readiness.

  It was now about one in the morning. Everything appeared to be
composed, and a general congratulation took place. By the beat of a
drum a proclamation was made that the citizens of Versailles would
give the hospitality of their houses to their fellow-citizens of
Paris. Those who could not be accommodated in this manner remained
in the streets, or took up their quarters in the churches; and at
two o'clock the King and Queen retired.

  In this state matters passed till the break of day, when a fresh
disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of some of both parties,
for such characters there will be in all such scenes. One of the Garde
du Corps appeared at one of the windows of the palace, and the
people who had remained during the night in the streets accosted him
with reviling and provocative language. Instead of retiring, as in
such a case prudence would have dictated, he presented his musket,
fired, and killed one of the Paris militia. The peace being thus
broken, the people rushed into the palace in quest of the offender.
They attacked the quarters of the Garde du Corps within the palace,
and pursued them throughout the avenues of it, and to the apartments
of the King. On this tumult, not the Queen only, as Mr. Burke has
represented it, but every person in the palace, was awakened and
alarmed; and M. de la Fayette had a second time to interpose between
the parties, the event of which was that the Garde du Corps put on the
national cockade, and the matter ended as by oblivion, after the
loss of two or three lives.

  During the latter part of the time in which this confusion was
acting, the King and Queen were in public at the balcony, and
neither of them concealed for safety's sake, as Mr. Burke
insinuates. Matters being thus appeased, and tranquility restored, a
general acclamation broke forth of Le Roi a Paris- Le Roi a Paris- The
King to Paris. It was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted
on the part of the King. By this measure all future projects of
trapanning the King to Metz, and setting up the standard of opposition
to the constitution, were prevented, and the suspicions
extinguished. The King and his family reached Paris in the evening,
and were congratulated on their arrival by M. Bailly, the Mayor of
Paris, in the name of the citizens. Mr. Burke, who throughout his book
confounds things, persons, and principles, as in his remarks on M.
Bailly's address, confounded time also. He censures M. Bailly for
calling it "un bon jour," a good day. Mr. Burke should have informed
himself that this scene took up the space of two days, the day on
which it began with every appearance of danger and mischief, and the
day on which it terminated without the mischiefs that threatened;
and that it is to this peaceful termination that M. Bailly alludes,
and to the arrival of the King at Paris. Not less than three hundred
thousand persons arranged themselves in the procession from Versailles
to Paris, and not an act of molestation was committed during the whole
march.

  Mr. Burke on the authority of M. Lally Tollendal, a deserter from
the National Assembly, says that on entering Paris, the people shouted
"Tous les eveques a la lanterne." All Bishops to be hanged at the
lanthorn or lamp-posts. It is surprising that nobody could hear this
but Lally Tollendal, and that nobody should believe it but Mr.
Burke. It has not the least connection with any part of the
transaction, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. The
Bishops had never been introduced before into any scene of Mr. Burke's
drama: why then are they, all at once, and altogether, tout a coup, et
tous ensemble, introduced now? Mr. Burke brings forward his Bishops
and his lanthorn-like figures in a magic lanthorn, and raises his
scenes by contrast instead of connection. But it serves to show,
with the rest of his book what little credit ought to be given where
even probability is set at defiance, for the purpose of defaming;
and with this reflection, instead of a soliloquy in praise of
chivalry, as Mr. Burke has done, I close the account of the expedition
to Versailles.*[4]

  I have now to follow Mr. Burke through a pathless wilderness of
rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon governments, in which he
asserts whatever he pleases, on the presumption of its being believed,
without offering either evidence or reasons for so doing.

  Before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusion, certain facts,
principles, or data, to reason from, must be established, admitted, or
denied. Mr. Burke with his usual outrage, abused the Declaration of
the Rights of Man, published by the National Assembly of France, as
the basis on which the constitution of France is built. This he
calls "paltry and blurred sheets of paper about the rights of man."
Does Mr. Burke mean to deny that man has any rights? If he does,
then he must mean that there are no such things as rights anywhere,