After calming Armand down, Joseph left the Peterson Theater and climbed into a light one-horse cab, preparing to head home. The two-wheeled carriage rolled slowly along the road. The weather was fine that day, so Joseph had lowered the hood and looked around.
By now, the carriage was following the Seine and had reached the Île de la Cité. The island was the heart of Paris and the birthplace of the city. Notre-Dame de Paris stood on it. Joseph looked around and could see the cathedral's lofty spire in the distance, as well as Pont Neuf, which stretched across the Seine. The bridge's name meant "New Bridge," but in fact it was an old bridge, built in the fifteenth century—and the oldest bridge on the entire Seine.
The carriage slowed as more people and vehicles crowded the streets. This was already one of the busiest districts in Paris, so that was hardly unusual. But as the carriage continued onward, the crowds grew thicker and thicker, until people were packed together shoulder to shoulder.
The driver reined in the horse and turned to Joseph. "Sir, I don't know what's happening up ahead, but we can't get through. If you want to take a detour and cross the river at another bridge, it'll be a long way around and take a lot of time. I'd have to charge you extra, too. I think you'd be better off getting down here and walking through this stretch. Then you can find another cab on the other side of the river. That'll save you some money."
Joseph looked ahead. The area around Pont Neuf was swarming with people, and there was no way the carriage could get through. The driver was right, so Joseph nodded, pulled two sous from his pocket, and handed them over. Then he adjusted his hat, picked up his cane, got out of the carriage, and walked along the street toward Pont Neuf.
The farther he went, the thicker the crowd became, and the louder the din. Joseph noticed that nearly everyone around him wore the same look: anxious and worried, yet tinged with excitement. He kept hearing snatches of conversation:
"What is the Third Estate? The Third Estate is France. It is everything..."
"We in the Third Estate cannot be given just one vote..."
"That's right. We won't stand by and let them..."
"We need our own..."
"We must defend ourselves..."
"Without a National Assembly, without a constitution, no one will take a single sou from us!"
Joseph stopped a young man and asked, "What's going on?"
"The king has ordered the Salle des Menus-Plaisirs closed. They say he's going to dissolve the National Assembly, too! We can't let him do that!" the young man replied.
Before Joseph could answer, another hand reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned and saw another young man, wearing the same anxious, worried, yet excited expression. "Sir, we can't let the privileged classes trample us underfoot anymore. We aren't lowly dirt. We're the true France! Don't you agree?"
At a time like this, voicing any disagreement would clearly be unwise. So Joseph answered at once, "You're right. We can't let them trample us like this."
"We need a constitution!" someone shouted nearby.
"That's right! We need a constitution. We can't let the king and the privileged classes do as they please!"
"The king will send troops to crush us. I heard he's secretly gathering an army right now. Once the time is right, he plans to slaughter us all, just like in the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre!" another voice suddenly cried.
The people around them fell silent. They looked at one another, and each could see fear in the others' eyes.
"They... they're capable of doing something like that..." someone said.
"We mustn't let them!"
"The soldiers are part of the Third Estate, too. They won't..."
"But soldiers have to obey orders. And the king can bribe those mercenaries with money—money he's wrung from us—to hire those mountain men to kill us!"
"We have to be ready. We can't just wait to be slaughtered..."
Listening to the cries around him, Joseph knew that history had finally reached this point.
A few days earlier, at the Estates-General, the king had agreed to the Third Estate's demand that its representatives be increased from three hundred to six hundred. But he had insisted on keeping the traditional system, in which each Estate cast only one vote. In France, 98 percent of the population belonged to the Third Estate, yet it could cast only one vote. The clergy of the First Estate and the hereditary nobles of the Second Estate each had a vote as well. Under such rules, the privileged orders could do whatever they pleased, no matter how the game was played. The interests of the vast Third Estate would have no protection at all.
It was true that this voting system was a French tradition. But for Louis XVI to expect the Third Estate—now stronger than ever economically and influenced by the Enlightenment—to let him push them around like serfs from a century and a half ago showed that he was completely out of touch.
The representatives of the Third Estate could hardly accept such an arrangement. Nor could the Third Estate as a whole. They were not entirely opposed to higher taxes, but if they were to accept new taxes, they demanded greater rights in return. To put it plainly: if the king wanted their money, he had to offer something in exchange. He couldn't simply take it for nothing.
When the king announced that he would convene the Estates-General, the Third Estate saw the meeting as an opportunity to gain more rights. As soon as word of the impending assembly spread, Sieyes published his political pamphlet, What Is the Third Estate?, arguing that the Third Estate deserved a higher standing. Now, by "upholding tradition," the king had set himself squarely against the entire Third Estate.
The representatives of the Third Estate would never submit to the king—and the people they represented would never let them. So they declared themselves the National Assembly, composed of representatives of the Third Estate. They claimed absolute authority over legislation and vowed to write France's first constitution.
The king would never permit such an "usurpation." So Louis XVI ordered the Salle des Menus-Plaisirs, where the representatives of the Third Estate had been meeting, to be closed. Rumors also spread that he planned to use force to dissolve the "illegal" National Assembly. That news had just reached the crowd.
Just then, a middle-aged man who looked like a clergyman appeared at the head of Pont Neuf. The crowd immediately erupted in cheers.
"Mr. Sieyes! It's Mr. Sieyes!" someone shouted.
"Mr. Sieyes! Mr. Sieyes! What should we do? What should we do?" others cried.
Sieyes climbed onto a handcart pushed over by a nearby vendor and waved to the crowd. "Everyone, don't worry! This won't frighten us. Tomorrow, we'll go to the Salle des Menus-Plaisirs as planned. If we can't write a constitution for France that truly represents the will of the people, we will never disband..."
Cheers broke out all around. Joseph clapped along, then glanced at the crush of people around Pont Neuf. If he tried to cross there, he'd probably have his clothes torn off. Like the cab, he'd have to take a detour...
As the news spread, however, all of Paris erupted. Almost everyone poured into the streets. Everywhere, people were talking loudly or whispering among themselves. Every street was as crowded as a marketplace. Joseph didn't make it back to his lodgings until nightfall.
The next noon, Joseph heard that the representatives of the "National Assembly" had gone to the Salle des Menus-Plaisirs in the rain to resume their discussions on drafting a constitution, only to be blocked by troops sent by the king. So, led by Bailly, the National Assembly's first president, the representatives resolved to defend their fledgling assembly and went to the Royal Tennis Court near the hall. There, representatives of the Third Estate swore that each of them would work to draft a constitution for the kingdom and reform the monarchy, and that they would never separate from the National Assembly.
Many feared that the king would send troops to the Royal Tennis Court to arrest these "insolent" representatives of the Third Estate. But for several days, the king made no move. Instead, a group of representatives from the First and Second Estates joined the National Assembly, led by the Duke of Orleans and Marquis de Lafayette. The Orleans Family was one of the most prominent in France, while Lafayette had been the commander-in-chief of the French forces in the American War of Independence. His leadership had proved decisive in the battle of Yorktown, earning him the title "Hero of the New World" from the Americans. His victory had also been one of France's few successes against Britain in many years. As a result, Lafayette commanded considerable respect in the army. The Duke of Orleans and Lafayette's move immediately boosted the National Assembly's morale and greatly strengthened its legitimacy. It could now claim to represent not just the Third Estate, but all of France, including the First and Second Estates.
A few days later, the "National Assembly" officially changed its name to the National Constituent Assembly and prepared to begin drafting the "Constitution of the Kingdom of France." At the same time, rumors began circulating that the king was moving large numbers of troops, especially mercenaries, to Paris. Many supporters of the Third Estate began preparing weapons and readying themselves to fight.
Amid all this feverish excitement and unease, Armand's Spartacus finally opened.
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