e
was a look of calm defiance as they met the disdainful gaze of the
aristocrats across the gulf of two centuries.

The two superior bodies absolutely refused to sit in the same room with
the commons. They might under the same roof, but in the same
room--never.

There was an historic precedent for this refusal. The three estates
had always acted as three separate bodies. So the demand in itself was
an encroachment upon the ancient dignity of the two superior bodies,
which they resented. But they might better have yielded. The _Tiers
Etat_ with dignity and firmness insisted that they should meet and vote
together as one body, or they would constitute themselves a separate
body, and act independently of the other two. This was the Rubicon.
On one side compromise, and possible co-operation of the three
legislative bodies; on the other, revolution, in charge of the people.

Aristocratic France was offered its last chance, and committed its last
act of arrogance and folly. The ultimatum was refused by the nobles
and clergy. And the _Tiers Etat_ declared itself the National
Assembly, in which was vested all the legislative authority of the
kingdom. The people had taken possession of the Government of France!

The predetermined destruction of the monarchy seems evident, when at
the most critical point, and at the moment calling for the most careful
retrenchment and reform, fate had placed Louis XV., acting like a
madman in the excesses of his profligacy; and, at the next stage, while
the last opportunity still existed by main force to drag the nation
back, and hold it from going over the brink, there stood the most
excellent, the kindest-hearted but weakest gentleman who ever wore the
name of king! When the distracted Louis gave the impotent order for
the National Assembly to disperse, and for the three bodies to assemble
and vote separately, according to ancient custom; and then when he gave
still further proof of childish incompetency by telling the _Tiers
Etat_ they were "not to meddle with the privileges of the higher
orders," kingship had become a mockery. It was a child telling the
tornado not to come in that direction.

When the king's herald read to the National Assembly this foolish
message, ending with the formula, "You hear, gentlemen, the orders of
the king," Mirabeau sprang to his feet, saying, "Go, tell your master
we are here by the will of the people, and will be only removed at the
point of th