from the public treasury for the purchase of grain, while Bailly, the good, kind-hearted mayor, spent large sums of money out of his own fortune to appease the hunger of the poor. François, the baker, it was rumored, had, in violation of law, cornered a quantity of flour. On October 21, 1789, the crowd gathered before his shop and threatened him with violence. It was stated that the story was without any foundation, but no argument can convince the minds of hungry men, for starvation knows no logic. The shop was sacked and, although there were found only a few loaves of bread, the poor baker's body was torn to pieces and his head carried aloft on a pike, followed by a rabble as wild as dancing dervishes. The authorities soon scattered the mob and restored order.

To provide against the recurrence of such disorder and violence, the Assembly enacted a new martial law. Robespierre vehemently opposed its passage on the ground that it evinced a distrust of the people. The stand he took upon this question and the clear enunciation of his democratic principles won for him the wild applause of the galleries.

The Assembly had moved to Paris after the king took up his abode in the palace of the Tuileries and continued its labors on the Constitution.

Royalty having come to the capital, society in a short time, after recovering from its fright caused by the riots, became as gay as ever.

The theatres, always favorite places of amusement with the Parisians, were, says Imbert de

Saint-Amand, the tilting grounds for the factions and parties. The actors, themselves, were partisans, and frequently they would twist their lines so as to apply the sentiments expressed in the plays to current matters and thus call forth the cheers of the pit or the jeers of the boxes, as the case might be. If the royalists were present in force, they would insist upon the orchestra's playing their favorite airs: "Charmante Gabrielle," "Vive Henri Quatre!" and "O, Richard! O, mon roi!" while the revolutionists would attempt to drown the music by vociferously singing the wild strains of the "Ça ira." Sometimes the performance would be interrupted by a hand-to-hand fight, swords would be drawn, heads cracked and blood shed, and after the. play, knightly escorts and elegantly dressed ladies would be howled at by the mob and occasionally rolled into the kennels.

Even while the Germans were at the gates of Paris, the people, says Victor Hugo, went to the play as they did at Athens during the Peloponnesian War.

Although many of the nobles had fled, there were enough left behind to make the levees interesting and even brilliant. Madame de Staël says than during this time Paris was never gayer. Society kept open house, and, while the slums were seething with discontent and the hungry and homeless were wandering through the streets, the mansions of the rich nightly blazed with light and splendor. Poverty, shivering and starving in the shadow of the palace, induced to riot and

revolution. It was the luxury and extravagance of the aristocracy of the old régime and the insolent, ostentatious display of their wealth that created envy and hatred in the hearts of the common people; but the lessons of the past were unheeded by the rich and their conduct at this time only increased the general discontent.

The rapacity of the Church had resulted in the accumulation of vast wealth, which, when the Revolution occurred, was estimated at 2,000,000,000 francs, yielding a revenue of about 75,000,000 francs annually. This was looked upon with an envious eye by the State and, at last, it was decided to appropriate it bodily. The confiscation of the Church lands and the issuance of assignats which were secured by these lands, postponed the threatened bankruptcy and temporarily relieved the financial situation. Vast issues of paper money, of course, induced to speculation and extravagance, drove the precious metals out of circulation, and ultimately resulted in repudiation; but, for the time being, these issues increased the volume of currency, gave an impetus to business, and provided employment for the poor.

This confiscation of the ecclesiastical property was considered by the Church an act of ruthless spoliation, and at once that mighty organization became the avowed and sworn enemy of the Revolution.

The men who were chiefly responsible for this act of appropriation by the State were Talleyrand and Mirabeau. The former, a churchman of

prominence, was solemnly excommunicated by a papal decree. The fulminations from the Vatican, however, were no longer heeded in France and, in sheer defiance of the threats from Rome, the Assembly proclaimed religious toleration and even went so far as to elect for its president Rabaut Saint Etienne, the son of a Protestant clergyman.

Robespierre at this time had not reached the prominence in the Assembly he subsequently attained, but he boldly stood forth and expressed his views in favor of the confiscation of Church property.

While the Assembly was busily employed in constructing the Constitution, its labors were interrupted on February 4, 1790, by a visit from the king, who, to encourage the deputies, declared that it was his desire and his intention to give his allegiance to that instrument, which was yet unfinished. The hall rang with cheers and many of the members wept in the joy of their emotions. Strange that the king was so anxious to evince a spirit of loyalty to that Constitution which he subsequently, upon its adoption, refused to obey and endeavored to destroy. It is said that he made this visit and declaration at the instance of Necker and the queen.

The Marquis de Favras, a restless and reckless spirit, was arrested for conspiracy, charged with being implicated in a plot to kill La Fayette, Necker, and Bailly, to abduct the king, and to place his brother Provence on the throne. On the 18th of February, the marquis was convicted and sentenced to death. If he had any co-conspirators he was brave and loyal enough to con