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diff --git a/old/1301-h/1301-h.htm b/old/1301-h/1301-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index db19710..0000000 --- a/old/1301-h/1301-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,43892 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The French Revolution, by Thomas Carlyle</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<style type="text/css"> - -body { margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; - text-align: justify } - -h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: -normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} - -h1 {font-size: 300%; - margin-top: 0.6em; - margin-bottom: 0.6em; - letter-spacing: 0.12em; - word-spacing: 0.2em; - text-indent: 0em;} -h2 {font-size: 175%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} -h4 {font-size: 120%;} -h5 {font-size: 110%;} - -hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} - -p {text-indent: 1em; - margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - -p.poem {text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; - font-size: 90%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - -p.right {text-align: right; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - -p.footnote {font-size: 90%; - text-indent: 0%; - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - -div.fig { display:block; - margin:0 auto; - text-align:center; } - -a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} -a:hover {color:red} - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The French Revolution, by Thomas Carlyle</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The French Revolution</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Thomas Carlyle</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 30, 1998 [eBook #1301]<br /> -[Most recently updated: September 26, 2020]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Sue Asscher and David Widger</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH REVOLUTION ***</div> - -<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:70%;" alt="cover" /><br/><br/> -</div> - -<h1>THE FRENCH REVOLUTION</h1> - -<h4> A HISTORY</h4> - -<h2>by THOMAS CARLYLE</h2> - -<hr /> - -<h3>Contents</h3> - - -<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> - -<tr> -<td></td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A HISTORY</b></big></a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>VOLUME I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002">THE BASTILLE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 1.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0003">DEATH OF LOUIS XV.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.1.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">Louis the Well-Beloved.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.1.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">Realised Ideals.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.1.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">Viaticum.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.1.IV.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">Louis the Unforgotten.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 1.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0008">THE PAPER AGE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">Astræa Redux.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">Petition in Hieroglyphs.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">Questionable.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">Maurepas.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">Astræa Redux without Cash.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">Windbags.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">Contrat Social.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.2.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">Printed Paper.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 1.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0017">THE PARLEMENT OF PARIS</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">Dishonoured Bills.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">Controller Calonne.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">The Notables.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">Loménie’s Edicts.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">Loménie’s Thunderbolts.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">Loménie’s Plots.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">Internecine.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">Loménie’s Death-throes.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.3.IX.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">Burial with Bonfire.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 1.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0027">STATES-GENERAL</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.4.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022">The Notables Again.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.4.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">The Election.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.4.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0024">Grown Electric.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.4.IV.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0025">The Procession.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 1.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0032">THE THIRD ESTATE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0026">Inertia.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0027">Mercury de Brézé.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0028">Broglie the War-God.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0029">To Arms!</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0030">Give us Arms.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0031">Storm and Victory.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0032">Not a Revolt.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0033">Conquering your King.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.5.IX.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0034">The Lanterne.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0042">CONSOLIDATION</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.6.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0035">Make the Constitution.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.6.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0036">The Constituent Assembly.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.6.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0037">The General Overturn.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.6.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0038">In Queue.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.6.V.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0039">The Fourth Estate.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0048">THE INSURRECTION OF WOMEN</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0040">Patrollotism.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0041">O Richard, O my King.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0042">Black Cockades.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0043">The Menads.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0044">Usher Maillard.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0045">To Versailles.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0046">At Versailles.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0047">The Equal Diet.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.IX.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0048">Lafayette.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.X.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0049">The Grand Entries.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 1.7.XI.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0050">From Versailles.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>VOLUME II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0060">THE CONSTITUTION</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0061">THE FEAST OF PIKES</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0051">In the Tuileries.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0052">In the Salle de Manége.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0053">The Muster.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0054">Journalism.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0055">Clubbism.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0056">Je le jure.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0057">Prodigies.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0058">Solemn League and Covenant.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.IX.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0059">Symbolic.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.X.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0060">Mankind.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.XI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0061">As in the Age of Gold.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.1.XII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0062">Sound and Smoke.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0075">NANCI</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0063">Bouillé.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0064">Arrears and Aristocrats.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0065">Bouillé at Metz.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0066">Arrears at Nanci.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0067">Inspector Malseigne.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.2.VI.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0068">Bouillé at Nanci.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0082">THE TUILERIES</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0069">Epimenides.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0070">The Wakeful.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0071">Sword in Hand.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0072">To fly or not to fly.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0073">The Day of Poniards.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0074">Mirabeau.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.3.VII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0075">Death of Mirabeau.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0090">VARENNES</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0076">Easter at Saint-Cloud.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0077">Easter at Paris.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0078">Count Fersen.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0079">Attitude.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0080">The New Berline.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0081">Old-Dragoon Drouet.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0082">The Night of Spurs.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0083">The Return.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.4.IX.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0084">Sharp Shot.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0100">PARLIAMENT FIRST</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0085">Grande Acceptation.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0086">The Book of the Law.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0087">Avignon.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0088">No Sugar.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0089">Kings and Emigrants.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0090">Brigands and Jalès.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0091">Constitution will not march.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0092">The Jacobins.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.IX.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0093">Minister Roland.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.X.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0094">Pétion-National-Pique.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.XI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0095">The Hereditary Representative.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.5.XII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0096">Procession of the Black Breeches.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 2.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0113">THE MARSEILLESE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0097">Executive that does not act.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0098">Let us march.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0099">Some Consolation to Mankind.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0100">Subterranean.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0101">At Dinner.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0102">The Steeples at Midnight.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0103">The Swiss.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 2.6.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0104">Constitution burst in Pieces.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>VOLUME III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0122">THE GUILLOTINE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0123">SEPTEMBER</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0105">The Improvised Commune.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0106">Danton.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0107">Dumouriez.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0108">September in Paris.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0109">A Trilogy.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0110">The Circular.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0111">September in Argonne.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.1.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0112">Exeunt.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0132">REGICIDE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0113">The Deliberative.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0114">The Executive.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0115">Discrowned.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0116">The Loser Pays.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0117">Stretching of Formulas.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0118">At the Bar.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0119">The Three Votings.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.2.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0120">Place de la Révolution.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0142">THE GIRONDINS</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0121">Cause and Effect.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0122">Culottic and Sansculottic.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0123">Growing Shrill.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0124">Fatherland in Danger.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0125">Sansculottism Accoutred.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0126">The Traitor.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0127">In Fight.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.VIII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0128">In Death-Grips.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.3.IX.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0129">Extinct.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0152">TERROR</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0130">Charlotte Corday.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0131">In Civil War.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0132">Retreat of the Eleven.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0133">O Nature.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0134">Sword of Sharpness.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0135">Risen against Tyrants.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0136">Marie-Antoinette.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.4.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0137">The Twenty-two.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0161">TERROR THE ORDER OF THE DAY</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0138">Rushing down.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0139">Death.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0140">Destruction.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0141">Carmagnole complete.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0142">Like a Thunder-Cloud.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0143">Do thy Duty.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.5.VII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0144">Flame-Picture.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0169">THERMIDOR</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0145">The Gods are athirst.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0146">Danton, No Weakness.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0147">The Tumbrils.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0148">Mumbo-Jumbo.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0149">The Prisons.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0150">To Finish the Terror.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.6.VII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0151">Go Down to.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>BOOK 3.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0177">VENDÉMIAIRE</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.I.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0152">Decadent.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.II.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0153">La Cabarus.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.III.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0154">Quiberon.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.IV.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0155">Lion not Dead.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.V.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0156">Lion Sprawling its Last.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.VI.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0157">Grilled Herrings.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.VII.</td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0158">The Whiff of Grapeshot.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td>Chapter 3.7.VIII.<br/><br/></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0159">Finis.</a><br/><br/></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0160">INDEX.</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td></td> -<td> <a href="#link2HCH0161">FOOTNOTES.</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h3><a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a>THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A -HISTORY<br/> -by<br/> -THOMAS CARLYLE</h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a> - VOLUME I.—THE BASTILLE - </h2> - -<p class="poem"> -Diesem Ambos vergleich’ ich das Land, den Hammer dem Herscher;<br/> - Und dem Volke das Blech, das in der Mitte sich krümmt.<br/> -Wehe dem armen Blech, wenn nur willkürliche Schläge<br/> - Ungewiss treffen, und nie fertig der Kessel erscheint!<br/> -</p> - -<p class="right"> GOETHE </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a> - BOOK 1.I.<br/> - DEATH OF LOUIS XV. - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> - Chapter 1.1.I.<br/> - Louis the Well-Beloved. - </h3> - - <p> - President Hénault, remarking on royal Surnames of Honour how difficult it - often is to ascertain not only why, but even when, they were conferred, - takes occasion in his sleek official way, to make a philosophical - reflection. “The Surname of <i>Bien-aimé</i> (Well-beloved),” - says he, “which Louis XV. bears, will not leave posterity in the same - doubt. This Prince, in the year 1744, while hastening from one end of his - kingdom to the other, and suspending his conquests in Flanders that he - might fly to the assistance of Alsace, was arrested at Metz by a malady - which threatened to cut short his days. At the news of this, Paris, all - in terror, seemed a city taken by storm: the churches resounded with - supplications and groans; the prayers of priests and people were every - moment interrupted by their sobs: and it was from an interest so dear and - tender that this Surname of <i>Bien-aimé</i> fashioned itself—a - title higher still than all the rest which this great Prince has - earned.”<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" - id="linknoteref-1">[1]</a> - </p> - - <p> - So stands it written; in lasting memorial of that year 1744. Thirty other - years have come and gone; and “this great Prince” again lies sick; but in - how altered circumstances now! Churches resound not with excessive - groanings; Paris is stoically calm: sobs interrupt no prayers, for indeed - none are offered; except Priests’ Litanies, read or chanted at fixed - money-rate per hour, which are not liable to interruption. The shepherd - of the people has been carried home from Little Trianon, heavy of heart, - and been put to bed in his own Château of Versailles: the flock knows it, - and heeds it not. At most, in the immeasurable tide of French Speech - (which ceases not day after day, and only ebbs towards the short hours of - night), may this of the royal sickness emerge from time to time as an - article of news. Bets are doubtless depending; nay, some people “express - themselves loudly in the streets.”<a href="#linknote-2" - name="linknoteref-2" id="linknoteref-2">[2]</a> But for the rest, on - green field and steepled city, the May sun shines out, the May evening - fades; and men ply their useful or useless business as if no Louis lay in - danger. - </p> - - <p> - Dame Dubarry, indeed, might pray, if she had a talent for it; Duke - d’Aiguillon too, Maupeou and the Parlement Maupeou: these, as they sit in - their high places, with France harnessed under their feet, know well on - what basis they continue there. Look to it, D’Aiguillon; sharply as thou - didst, from the Mill of St. Cast, on Quiberon and the invading English; - thou, “covered if not with glory yet with meal!” Fortune was ever - accounted inconstant: and each dog has but his day. - </p> - - <p> - Forlorn enough languished Duke d’Aiguillon, some years ago; covered, as - we said, with meal; nay with worse. For La Chalotais, the Breton - Parlementeer, accused him not only of poltroonery and tyranny, but even - of <i>concussion</i> (official plunder of money); which accusations it - was easier to get “quashed” by backstairs Influences than to get - answered: neither could the thoughts, or even the tongues, of men be - tied. Thus, under disastrous eclipse, had this grand-nephew of the great - Richelieu to glide about; unworshipped by the world; resolute Choiseul, - the abrupt proud man, disdaining him, or even forgetting him. Little - prospect but to glide into Gascony, to rebuild Châteaus there,<a - href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3">[3]</a> and - die inglorious killing game! However, in the year 1770, a certain young - soldier, Dumouriez by name, returning from Corsica, could see “with - sorrow, at Compiègne, the old King of France, on foot, with doffed hat, - in sight of his army, at the side of a magnificent phaeton, doing homage - to the—Dubarry.”<a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" - id="linknoteref-4">[4]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Much lay therein! Thereby, for one thing, could D’Aiguillon postpone the - rebuilding of his Château, and rebuild his fortunes first. For stout - Choiseul would discern in the Dubarry nothing but a wonderfully dizened - Scarlet-woman; and go on his way as if she were not. Intolerable: the - source of sighs, tears, of pettings and pouting; which would not end till - “France” (La France, as she named her royal valet) finally mustered heart - to see Choiseul; and with that “quivering in the chin (<i>tremblement du - menton</i>)” natural in such case,<a href="#linknote-5" - name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5">[5]</a> faltered out a dismissal: - dismissal of his last substantial man, but pacification of his - scarlet-woman. Thus D’Aiguillon rose again, and culminated. And with him - there rose Maupeou, the banisher of Parlements; who plants you a - refractory President “at Croe in Combrailles on the top of steep rocks, - inaccessible except by litters,” there to consider himself. Likewise - there rose Abbé Terray, dissolute Financier, paying eightpence in the - shilling,—so that wits exclaim in some press at the playhouse, - ‘Where is Abbé Terray, that he might reduce us to two-thirds!’ And so - have these individuals (verily by black-art) built them a Domdaniel, or - enchanted Dubarrydom; call it an Armida-Palace, where they dwell - pleasantly; Chancellor Maupeou “playing blind-man’s-buff” with the - scarlet Enchantress; or gallantly presenting her with dwarf - Negroes;—and a Most Christian King has unspeakable peace within - doors, whatever he may have without. “My Chancellor is a - scoundrel; but I cannot do without him.”<a href="#linknote-6" - name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6">[6]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Beautiful Armida-Palace, where the inmates live enchanted lives; lapped - in soft music of adulation; waited on by the splendours of the - world;—which nevertheless hangs wondrously as by a single hair. - Should the Most Christian King die; or even get seriously afraid of - dying! For, alas, had not the fair haughty Châteauroux to fly, with wet - cheeks and flaming heart, from that Fever-scene at Metz; driven forth by - sour shavelings? She hardly returned, when fever and shavelings were both - swept into the background. Pompadour too, when Damiens wounded Royalty - “slightly, under the fifth rib,” and our drive to Trianon went off - futile, in shrieks and madly shaken torches,—had to pack, and be in - readiness: yet did not go, the wound not proving poisoned. For his - Majesty has religious faith; believes, at least in a Devil. And now a - third peril; and who knows what may be in it! For the Doctors look grave; - ask privily, If his Majesty had not the small-pox long ago?—and - doubt it may have been a false kind. Yes, Maupeou, pucker those sinister - brows of thine, and peer out on it with thy malign rat-eyes: it is a - questionable case. Sure only that man is mortal; that with the life of - one mortal snaps irrevocably the wonderfulest talisman, and all - Dubarrydom rushes off, with tumult, into infinite Space; and ye, as - subterranean Apparitions are wont, vanish utterly,—leaving only a - smell of sulphur! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - These, and what holds of these may pray,—to Beelzebub, or whoever - will hear them. But from the rest of France there comes, as was said, no - prayer; or one of an <i>opposite</i> character, “expressed openly in the - streets.” Château or Hôtel, were an enlightened Philosophism scrutinises - many things, is not given to prayer: neither are Rossbach victories, - Terray Finances, nor, say only “sixty thousand <i>Lettres de Cachet</i>” - (which is Maupeou’s share), persuasives towards that. O Hénault! Prayers? - From a France smitten (by black-art) with plague after plague, and lying - now in shame and pain, with a Harlot’s foot on its neck, what prayer can - come? Those lank scarecrows, that prowl hunger-stricken through all - highways and byways of French Existence, will they pray? The dull - millions that, in the workshop or furrowfield, grind fore-done at the - wheel of Labour, like haltered gin-horses, if blind so much the quieter? - Or they that in the Bicêtre Hospital, “eight to a bed,” lie waiting their - manumission? Dim are those heads of theirs, dull stagnant those hearts: - to them the great Sovereign is known mainly as the great Regrater of - Bread. If they hear of his sickness, they will answer with a dull <i>Tant - pis pour lui;</i> or with the question, Will he die? - </p> - - <p> - Yes, will he die? that is now, for all France, the grand question, and - hope; whereby alone the King’s sickness has still some interest. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> - Chapter 1.1.II.<br/> - Realised Ideals. - </h3> - - <p> - Such a changed France have we; and a changed Louis. Changed, truly; and - further than thou yet seest!—To the eye of History many things, in - that sick-room of Louis, are now visible, which to the Courtiers there - present were invisible. For indeed it is well said, “in every object - there is inexhaustible meaning; the eye sees in it what the eye brings - means of seeing.” To Newton and to Newton’s Dog Diamond, what a different - pair of Universes; while the painting on the optical retina of both was, - most likely, the same! Let the Reader here, in this sick-room of Louis, - endeavour to look with the mind too. - </p> - - <p> - Time was when men could (so to speak) of a given man, by nourishing and - decorating him with fit appliances, to the due pitch, <i>make</i> - themselves a King, almost as the Bees do; and what was still more to the - purpose, loyally obey him when made. The man so nourished and decorated, - thenceforth named royal, does verily bear rule; and is said, and even - thought, to be, for example, “prosecuting conquests in Flanders,” when he - lets himself like luggage be carried thither: and no light luggage; - covering miles of road. For he has his unblushing Châteauroux, with her - band-boxes and rouge-pots, at his side; so that, at every new station, a - wooden gallery must be run up between their lodgings. He has not only his - <i>Maison-Bouche</i>, and <i>Valetaille</i> without end, but his very - Troop of Players, with their pasteboard coulisses, thunder-barrels, their - kettles, fiddles, stage-wardrobes, portable larders (and chaffering and - quarrelling enough); all mounted in wagons, tumbrils, second-hand - chaises,—sufficient not to conquer Flanders, but the patience of - the world. With such a flood of loud jingling appurtenances does he - lumber along, prosecuting his conquests in Flanders; wonderful to behold. - So nevertheless it was and had been: to some solitary thinker it might - seem strange; but even to him inevitable, not unnatural. - </p> - - <p> - For ours is a most fictile world; and man is the most fingent plastic of - creatures. A world not fixable; not fathomable! An unfathomable Somewhat, - which is <i>Not we;</i> which we can work with, and live - amidst,—and model, miraculously in our miraculous Being, and name - World.—But if the very Rocks and Rivers (as Metaphysic teaches) - are, in strict language, <i>made</i> by those outward Senses of ours, how - much more, by the Inward Sense, are all Phenomena of the spiritual kind: - Dignities, Authorities, Holies, Unholies! Which inward sense, moreover is - not permanent like the outward ones, but forever growing and changing. - Does not the Black African take of Sticks and Old Clothes (say, exported - Monmouth-Street cast-clothes) what will suffice, and of these, cunningly - combining them, fabricate for himself an Eidolon (Idol, or <i>Thing - Seen</i>), and name it <i>Mumbo-Jumbo;</i> which he can thenceforth pray - to, with upturned awestruck eye, not without hope? The white European - mocks; but ought rather to consider; and see whether he, at home, could - not do the like a little more wisely. - </p> - - <p> - So it <i>was</i>, we say, in those conquests of Flanders, thirty years - ago: but so it no longer is. Alas, much more lies sick than poor Louis: - not the French King only, but the French Kingship; this too, after long - rough tear and wear, is breaking down. The world is all so changed; so - much that seemed vigorous has sunk decrepit, so much that was not is - beginning to be!—Borne over the Atlantic, to the closing ear of - Louis, King by the Grace of God, what sounds are these; muffled ominous, - new in our centuries? Boston Harbour is black with unexpected Tea: behold - a Pennsylvanian Congress gather; and ere long, on Bunker Hill, DEMOCRACY - announcing, in rifle-volleys death-winged, under her Star Banner, to the - tune of Yankee-doodle-doo, that she is born, and, whirlwind-like, will - envelope the whole world! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Sovereigns die and Sovereignties: how all dies, and is for a Time only; - is a “Time-phantasm, yet reckons itself real!” The Merovingian Kings, - slowly wending on their bullock-carts through the streets of Paris, with - their long hair flowing, have all wended slowly on,—into Eternity. - Charlemagne sleeps at Salzburg, with truncheon grounded; only Fable - expecting that he will awaken. Charles the Hammer, Pepin Bow-legged, - where now is their eye of menace, their voice of command? Rollo and his - shaggy Northmen cover not the Seine with ships; but have sailed off on a - longer voyage. The hair of Towhead (<i>Tête d’étoupes</i>) now needs no - combing; Iron-cutter (<i>Taillefer</i>) cannot cut a cobweb; shrill - Fredegonda, shrill Brunhilda have had out their hot life-scold, and lie - silent, their hot life-frenzy cooled. Neither from that black Tower de - Nesle descends now darkling the doomed gallant, in his sack, to the Seine - waters; plunging into Night: for Dame de Nesle now cares not for this - world’s gallantry, heeds not this world’s scandal; Dame de Nesle is - herself gone into Night. They are all gone; sunk,—down, down, with - the tumult they made; and the rolling and the trampling of ever new - generations passes over them, and they hear it not any more forever. - </p> - - <p> - And yet withal has there not been realised somewhat? Consider (to go no - further) these strong Stone-edifices, and what they hold! Mud-Town of the - Borderers (<i>Lutetia Parisiorum</i> or <i>Barisiorum</i>) has paved - itself, has spread over all the Seine Islands, and far and wide on each - bank, and become City of Paris, sometimes boasting to be “Athens of - Europe,” and even “Capital of the Universe.” Stone towers frown aloft; - long-lasting, grim with a thousand years. Cathedrals are there, and a - Creed (or memory of a Creed) in them; Palaces, and a State and Law. Thou - seest the Smoke-vapour; <i>un</i>extinguished Breath as of a thing - living. Labour’s thousand hammers ring on her anvils: also a more - miraculous Labour works noiselessly, not with the Hand but with the - Thought. How have cunning workmen in all crafts, with their cunning head - and right-hand, tamed the Four Elements to be their ministers; yoking the - winds to their Sea-chariot, making the very Stars their Nautical - Timepiece;—and written and collected a <i>Bibliothèque du Roi;</i> - among whose Books is the Hebrew Book! A wondrous race of creatures: - <i>these</i> have been realised, and what of Skill is in these: call not - the Past Time, with all its confused wretchednesses, a lost one. - </p> - - <p> - Observe, however, that of man’s whole terrestrial possessions and - attainments, unspeakably the noblest are his Symbols, divine or - divine-seeming; under which he marches and fights, with victorious - assurance, in this life-battle: what we can call his Realised Ideals. Of - which realised ideals, omitting the rest, consider only these two: his - Church, or spiritual Guidance; his Kingship, or temporal one. The Church: - what a word was there; richer than Golconda and the treasures of the - world! In the heart of the remotest mountains rises the little Kirk; the - Dead all slumbering round it, under their white memorial-stones, “in hope - of a happy resurrection:”—dull wert thou, O Reader, if never in any - hour (say of moaning midnight, when such Kirk hung spectral in the sky, - and Being was as if swallowed up of Darkness) it spoke to - thee—things unspeakable, that went into thy soul’s soul. Strong was - he that had a Church, what we can call a Church: he stood thereby, though - “in the centre of Immensities, in the conflux of Eternities,” yet manlike - towards God and man; the vague shoreless Universe had become for him a - firm city, and dwelling which he knew. Such virtue was in Belief; in - these words, well spoken: <i>I believe</i>. Well might men prize their - <i>Credo</i>, and raise stateliest Temples for it, and reverend - Hierarchies, and give it the tithe of their substance; it was worth - living for and dying for. - </p> - - <p> - Neither was that an inconsiderable moment when wild armed men first - raised their Strongest aloft on the buckler-throne, and with clanging - armour and hearts, said solemnly: Be thou our Acknowledged Strongest! In - such Acknowledged Strongest (well named King, <i>Kön-ning,</i> Can-ning, - or Man that was Able) what a Symbol shone now for them,—significant - with the destinies of the world! A Symbol of true Guidance in return for - loving Obedience; properly, if he knew it, the prime want of man. A - Symbol which might be called sacred; for is there not, in reverence for - what is better than we, an indestructible sacredness? On which ground, - too, it was well said there lay in the Acknowledged Strongest a divine - right; as surely there might in the Strongest, whether Acknowledged or - not,—considering <i>who</i> it was that made him strong. And so, in - the midst of confusions and unutterable incongruities (as all growth is - confused), did this of Royalty, with Loyalty environing it, spring up; - and grow mysteriously, subduing and assimilating (for a principle of Life - was in it); till it also had grown world-great, and was among the main - Facts of our modern existence. Such a Fact, that Louis XIV., for example, - could answer the expostulatory Magistrate with his ‘<i>L’Etat c’est - moi</i> (The State? I am the State);’ and be replied to by silence and - abashed looks. So far had accident and forethought; had your Louis - Elevenths, with the leaden Virgin in their hatband, and torture-wheels - and conical <i>oubliettes</i> (man-eating!) under their feet; your Henri - Fourths, with their prophesied social millennium, “when every peasant - should have his fowl in the pot;” and on the whole, the fertility of this - most fertile Existence (named of Good and Evil),—brought it, in the - matter of the Kingship. Wondrous! Concerning which may we not again say, - that in the huge mass of Evil, as it rolls and swells, there is ever some - Good working imprisoned; working towards deliverance and triumph? - </p> - - <p> - How such Ideals do realise themselves; and grow, wondrously, from amid - the incongruous ever-fluctuating chaos of the Actual: this is what - World-History, if it teach any thing, has to teach us, How they grow; - and, after long stormy growth, bloom out mature, supreme; then quickly - (for the blossom is brief) fall into decay; sorrowfully dwindle; and - crumble down, or rush down, noisily or noiselessly disappearing. The - blossom is so brief; as of some centennial Cactus-flower, which after a - century of waiting shines out for hours! Thus from the day when rough - Clovis, in the Champ de Mars, in sight of his whole army, had to cleave - retributively the head of that rough Frank, with sudden battleaxe, and - the fierce words, ‘It was thus thou clavest the vase’ (St. Remi’s and - mine) ‘at Soissons,’ forward to Louis the Grand and his <i>L’Etat c’est - moi</i>, we count some twelve hundred years: and now this the very next - Louis is dying, and so much dying with him!—Nay, thus too, if - Catholicism, with and against Feudalism (but <i>not</i> against Nature - and her bounty), gave us English a Shakspeare and Era of Shakspeare, and - so produced a blossom of Catholicism—it was not till Catholicism - itself, so far as Law could abolish it, had been abolished here. - </p> - - <p> - But of those decadent ages in which no Ideal either grows or blossoms? - When Belief and Loyalty have passed away, and only the cant and false - echo of them remains; and all Solemnity has become Pageantry; and the - Creed of persons in authority has become one of two things: an Imbecility - or a Macchiavelism? Alas, of these ages World-History can take no notice; - they have to become compressed more and more, and finally suppressed in - the Annals of Mankind; blotted out as spurious,—which indeed they - are. Hapless ages: wherein, if ever in any, it is an unhappiness to be - born. To be born, and to learn only, by every tradition and example, that - God’s Universe is Belial’s and a Lie; and “the Supreme Quack” the - hierarch of men! In which mournfulest faith, nevertheless, do we not see - whole generations (two, and sometimes even three successively) live, what - they call living; and vanish,—without chance of reappearance? - </p> - - <p> - In such a decadent age, or one fast verging that way, had our poor Louis - been born. Grant also that if the French Kingship had not, by course of - Nature, long to live, he of all men was the man to accelerate Nature. The - Blossom of French Royalty, cactus-like, has accordingly made an - astonishing progress. In those Metz days, it was still standing with all - its petals, though bedimmed by Orleans Regents and <i>Roué</i> Ministers - and Cardinals; but now, in 1774, we behold it bald, and the virtue nigh - gone out of it. - </p> - - <p> - Disastrous indeed does it look with those same “realised ideals,” one and - all! The Church, which in its palmy season, seven hundred years ago, - could make an Emperor wait barefoot, in penance-shift; three days, in the - snow, has for centuries seen itself decaying; reduced even to forget old - purposes and enmities, and join interest with the Kingship: on this - younger strength it would fain stay its decrepitude; and these two will - henceforth stand and fall together. Alas, the Sorbonne still sits there, - in its old mansion; but mumbles only jargon of dotage, and no longer - leads the consciences of men: not the Sorbonne; it is <i>Encyclopédies, - Philosophie</i>, and who knows what nameless innumerable multitude of - ready Writers, profane Singers, Romancers, Players, Disputators, and - Pamphleteers, that now form the Spiritual Guidance of the world. The - world’s Practical Guidance too is lost, or has glided into the same - miscellaneous hands. Who is it that the King (<i>Able-man</i>, named also - <i>Roi, Rex,</i> or Director) now guides? His own huntsmen and prickers: - when there is to be no hunt, it is well said, “<i>Le Roi ne fera rien</i> - (Today his Majesty will do <i>nothing</i>).”<a href="#linknote-7" - name="linknoteref-7" id="linknoteref-7">[7]</a> He lives and lingers - there, because he is living there, and none has yet laid hands on him. - </p> - - <p> - The nobles, in like manner, have nearly ceased either to guide or - misguide; and are now, as their master is, little more than ornamental - figures. It is long since they have done with butchering one another or - their king: the Workers, protected, encouraged by Majesty, have ages ago - built walled towns, and there ply their crafts; will permit no Robber - Baron to “live by the saddle,” but maintain a gallows to prevent it. Ever - since that period of the <i>Fronde</i>, the Noble has changed his - fighting sword into a court rapier, and now loyally attends his king as - ministering satellite; divides the spoil, not now by violence and murder, - but by soliciting and finesse. These men call themselves supports of the - throne, singular gilt-pasteboard <i>caryatides</i> in that singular - edifice! For the rest, their privileges every way are now much curtailed. - That law authorizing a Seigneur, as he returned from hunting, to kill not - more than two Serfs, and refresh his feet in their warm blood and bowels, - has fallen into perfect desuetude,—and even into incredibility; for - if Deputy Lapoule can believe in it, and call for the abrogation of it, - so cannot we.<a href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8" - id="linknoteref-8">[8]</a> No Charolois, for these last fifty years, - though never so fond of shooting, has been in use to bring down slaters - and plumbers, and see them roll from their roofs;<a href="#linknote-9" - name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9">[9]</a> but contents himself with - partridges and grouse. Close-viewed, their industry and function is that - of dressing gracefully and eating sumptuously. As for their debauchery - and depravity, it is perhaps unexampled since the era of Tiberius and - Commodus. Nevertheless, one has still partly a feeling with the lady - Maréchale: ‘Depend upon it, Sir, God thinks twice before damning a man of - that quality.’<a href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10" - id="linknoteref-10">[10]</a> These people, of old, surely had virtues, - uses; or they could not have been there. Nay, one virtue they are still - required to have (for mortal man cannot live without a conscience): the - virtue of perfect readiness to fight duels. - </p> - - <p> - Such are the shepherds of the people: and now how fares it with the - flock? With the flock, as is inevitable, it fares ill, and ever worse. - They are not tended, they are only regularly shorn. They are sent for, to - do statute-labour, to pay statute-taxes; to fatten battle-fields (named - “Bed of honour”) with their bodies, in quarrels which are not theirs; - their hand and toil is in every possession of man; but for themselves - they have little or no possession. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed; to pine - dully in thick obscuration, in squalid destitution and obstruction: this - is the lot of the millions; <i>peuple taillable et corvéable à merci et - miséricorde</i>. In Brittany they once rose in revolt at the first - introduction of Pendulum Clocks; thinking it had something to do with the - <i>Gabelle</i>. Paris requires to be cleared out periodically by the - Police; and the horde of hunger-stricken vagabonds to be sent wandering - again over space—for a time. “During one such periodical - clearance,” says Lacretelle, “in May, 1750, the Police had presumed - withal to carry off some reputable people’s children, in the hope of - extorting ransoms for them. The mothers fill the public places with cries - of despair; crowds gather, get excited: so many women in destraction run - about exaggerating the alarm: an absurd and horrid fable arises among the - people; it is said that the doctors have ordered a Great Person to take - baths of young human blood for the restoration of his own, all spoiled by - debaucheries. Some of the rioters,” adds Lacretelle, quite coolly, “were - hanged on the following days:” the Police went on.<a href="#linknote-11" - name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11">[11]</a> O ye poor naked - wretches! and this, then, is your inarticulate cry to Heaven, as of a - dumb tortured animal, crying from uttermost depths of pain and - debasement? Do these azure skies, like a dead crystalline vault, only - reverberate the echo of it on you? Respond to it only by “hanging on the - following days?”—Not so: not forever! Ye are heard in Heaven. And - the answer too will come,—in a horror of great darkness, and - shakings of the world, and a cup of trembling which all the nations shall - drink. - </p> - - <p> - Remark, meanwhile, how from amid the wrecks and dust of this universal - Decay new Powers are fashioning themselves, adapted to the new time and - its destinies. Besides the old Noblesse, originally of Fighters, there is - a new recognised Noblesse of Lawyers; whose gala-day and proud battle-day - even now is. An unrecognised Noblesse of Commerce; powerful enough, with - money in its pocket. Lastly, powerfulest of all, least recognised of all, - a Noblesse of Literature; without steel on their thigh, without gold in - their purse, but with the “grand thaumaturgic faculty of Thought” in - their head. French Philosophism has arisen; in which little word how much - do we include! Here, indeed, lies properly the cardinal symptom of the - whole wide-spread malady. Faith is gone out; Scepticism is come in. Evil - abounds and accumulates: no man has Faith to withstand it, to amend it, - to begin by amending himself; it must even go on accumulating. While - hollow langour and vacuity is the lot of the Upper, and want and - stagnation of the Lower, and universal misery is very certain, what other - thing is certain? That a Lie cannot be believed! Philosophism knows only - this: her other belief is mainly that, in spiritual supersensual matters - no Belief is possible. Unhappy! Nay, as yet the Contradiction of a Lie is - some kind of Belief; but the Lie with its Contradiction once swept away, - what will remain? The five unsatiated Senses will remain, the sixth - insatiable Sense (of vanity); the whole <i>dæmonic</i> nature of man will - remain,—hurled forth to rage blindly without rule or rein; savage - itself, yet with all the tools and weapons of civilisation; a spectacle - new in History. - </p> - - <p> - In such a France, as in a Powder-tower, where fire unquenched and now - unquenchable is smoking and smouldering all round, has Louis XV. lain - down to die. With Pompadourism and Dubarryism, his Fleur-de-lis has been - shamefully struck down in all lands and on all seas; Poverty invades even - the Royal Exchequer, and Tax-farming can squeeze out no more; there is a - quarrel of twenty-five years’ standing with the Parlement; everywhere - Want, Dishonesty, Unbelief, and hotbrained Sciolists for - state-physicians: it is a portentous hour. - </p> - - <p> - Such things can the eye of History see in this sick-room of King Louis, - which were invisible to the Courtiers there. It is twenty years, gone - Christmas-day, since Lord Chesterfield, summing up what he had noted of - this same France, wrote, and sent off by post, the following words, that - have become memorable: “In short, all the symptoms which I have ever met - with in History, previous to great Changes and Revolutions in government, - now exist and daily increase in France.”<a href="#linknote-12" - name="linknoteref-12" id="linknoteref-12">[12]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> - Chapter 1.1.III.<br/> - Viaticum. - </h3> - - <p> - For the present, however, the grand question with the Governors of France - is: Shall extreme unction, or other ghostly viaticum (to Louis, not to - France), be administered? - </p> - - <p> - It is a deep question. For, if administered, if so much as spoken of, - must not, on the very threshold of the business, Witch Dubarry vanish; - hardly to return should Louis even recover? With her vanishes Duke - d’Aiguillon and Company, and all their Armida-Palace, as was said; Chaos - swallows the whole again, and there is left nothing but a smell of - brimstone. But then, on the other hand, what will the Dauphinists and - Choiseulists say? Nay what may the royal martyr himself say, should he - happen to get deadly worse, without getting delirious? For the present, - he still kisses the Dubarry hand; so we, from the ante-room, can note: - but afterwards? Doctors’ bulletins may run as they are ordered, but it is - “confluent small-pox,”—of which, as is whispered too, the - Gatekeeper’s once so buxom Daughter lies ill: and Louis XV. is not a man - to be trifled with in his viaticum. Was he not wont to catechise his very - girls in the <i>Parc-aux-cerfs</i>, and pray with and for them, that they - might preserve their—orthodoxy?<a href="#linknote-13" - name="linknoteref-13" id="linknoteref-13">[13]</a> A strange fact, not an - unexampled one; for there is no animal so strange as man. - </p> - - <p> - For the moment, indeed, it were all well, could Archbishop Beaumont but - be prevailed upon—to wink with one eye! Alas, Beaumont would - himself so fain do it: for, singular to tell, the Church too, and whole - posthumous hope of Jesuitism, now hangs by the apron of this same - unmentionable woman. But then “the force of public opinion”? Rigorous - Christophe de Beaumont, who has spent his life in persecuting hysterical - Jansenists and incredulous Non-confessors; or even their dead bodies, if - no better might be,—how shall he now open Heaven’s gate, and give - Absolution with the <i>corpus delicti</i> still under his nose? Our - Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon, for his part, will not higgle with a royal - sinner about turning of the key: but there are other Churchmen; there is - a King’s Confessor, foolish Abbé Moudon; and Fanaticism and Decency are - not yet extinct. On the whole, what is to be done? The doors can be well - watched; the Medical Bulletin adjusted; and much, as usual, be hoped for - from time and chance. - </p> - - <p> - The doors are well watched, no improper figure can enter. Indeed, few - wish to enter; for the putrid infection reaches even to the - <i>Œil-de-Bœuf;</i> so that “more than fifty fall sick, and ten die.” - Mesdames the Princesses alone wait at the loathsome sick-bed; impelled by - filial piety. The three Princesses, <i>Graille, Chiffe, Coche</i> (Rag, - Snip, Pig, as he was wont to name them), are assiduous there; when all - have fled. The fourth Princess <i>Loque</i> (Dud), as we guess, is - already in the Nunnery, and can only give her orisons. Poor - <i>Graille</i> and Sisterhood, they have never known a Father: such is - the hard bargain Grandeur must make. Scarcely at the <i>Débotter</i> - (when Royalty took off its boots) could they snatch up their “enormous - hoops, gird the long train round their waists, huddle on their black - cloaks of taffeta up to the very chin;” and so, in fit appearance of full - dress, “every evening at six,” walk majestically in; receive their royal - kiss on the brow; and then walk majestically out again, to embroidery, - small-scandal, prayers, and vacancy. If Majesty came some morning, with - coffee of its own making, and swallowed it with them hastily while the - dogs were uncoupling for the hunt, it was received as a grace of - Heaven.<a href="#linknote-14" name="linknoteref-14" - id="linknoteref-14">[14]</a> Poor withered ancient women! in the wild - tossings that yet await your fragile existence, before it be crushed and - broken; as ye fly through hostile countries, over tempestuous seas, are - almost taken by the Turks; and wholly, in the Sansculottic Earthquake, - know not your right hand from your left, be this always an assured place - in your remembrance: for the act was good and loving! To us also it is a - little sunny spot, in that dismal howling waste, where we hardly find - another. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, what shall an impartial prudent Courtier do? In these delicate - circumstances, while not only death or life, but even sacrament or no - sacrament, is a question, the skilfulest may falter. Few are so happy as - the Duke d’Orléans and the Prince de Condé; who can themselves, with - volatile salts, attend the King’s ante-chamber; and, at the same time, - send their brave sons (Duke de Chartres, <i>Egalité</i> that is to be; - Duke de Bourbon, one day Condé too, and famous among Dotards) to wait - upon the Dauphin. With another few, it is a resolution taken; <i>jacta - est alea</i>. Old Richelieu,—when Beaumont, driven by public - opinion, is at last for entering the sick-room,—will twitch him by - the rochet, into a recess; and there, with his old dissipated - mastiff-face, and the oiliest vehemence, be seen pleading (and even, as - we judge by Beaumont’s change of colour, prevailing) “that the King be - not killed by a proposition in Divinity.” Duke de Fronsac, son of - Richelieu, can follow his father: when the Curé of Versailles whimpers - something about sacraments, he will threaten to “throw him out of the - window if he mention such a thing.” - </p> - - <p> - Happy these, we may say; but to the rest that hover between two opinions, - is it not trying? He who would understand to what a pass Catholicism, and - much else, had now got; and how the symbols of the Holiest have become - gambling-dice of the Basest,—must read the narrative of those - things by Besenval, and Soulavie, and the other Court Newsmen of the - time. He will see the Versailles Galaxy all scattered asunder, grouped - into new ever-shifting Constellations. There are nods and sagacious - glances; go-betweens, silk dowagers mysteriously gliding, with smiles for - this constellation, sighs for that: there is tremor, of hope or - desperation, in several hearts. There is the pale grinning Shadow of - Death, ceremoniously ushered along by another grinning Shadow, of - Etiquette: at intervals the growl of Chapel Organs, like prayer by - machinery; proclaiming, as in a kind of horrid diabolic horse-laughter, - <i>Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity!</i> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> - Chapter 1.1.IV.<br/> - Louis the Unforgotten. - </h3> - - <p> - Poor Louis! With these it is a hollow phantasmagory, where like mimes - they mope and mowl, and utter false sounds for hire; but with thee it is - frightful earnest. - </p> - - <p> - Frightful to all men is Death; from of old named King of Terrors. Our - little compact home of an Existence, where we dwelt complaining, yet as - in a home, is passing, in dark agonies, into an Unknown of Separation, - Foreignness, unconditioned Possibility. The Heathen Emperor asks of his - soul: Into what places art thou now departing? The Catholic King must - answer: To the Judgment-bar of the Most High God! Yes, it is a summing-up - of Life; a final settling, and giving-in the “account of the deeds done - in the body:” they are done now; and lie there unalterable, and do bear - their fruits, long as Eternity shall last. - </p> - - <p> - Louis XV. had always the kingliest abhorrence of Death. Unlike that - praying Duke of Orleans, <i>Egalité’s</i> grandfather,—for indeed - several of them had a touch of madness,—who honesty believed that - there was no Death! He, if the Court Newsmen can be believed, started up - once on a time, glowing with sulphurous contempt and indignation on his - poor Secretary, who had stumbled on the words, <i>feu roi d’Espagne</i> - (the late King of Spain): ‘<i>Feu roi, - Monsieur?</i>’—‘<i>Monseigneur</i>,’ hastily answered the trembling - but adroit man of business, ‘<i>c’est une titre qu’ils prennent</i> (’tis - a title they take).’<a href="#linknote-15" name="linknoteref-15" - id="linknoteref-15">[15]</a> Louis, we say, was not so happy; but he did - what he could. He would not suffer Death to be spoken of; avoided the - sight of churchyards, funereal monuments, and whatsoever could bring it - to mind. It is the resource of the Ostrich; who, hard hunted, sticks his - foolish head in the ground, and would fain forget that his foolish - unseeing body is not unseen too. Or sometimes, with a spasmodic - antagonism, significant of the same thing, and of more, he <i>would</i> - go; or stopping his court carriages, would send into churchyards, and ask - “how many new graves there were today,” though it gave his poor Pompadour - the disagreeablest qualms. We can figure the thought of Louis that day, - when, all royally caparisoned for hunting, he met, at some sudden turning - in the Wood of Senart, a ragged Peasant with a coffin: ‘For - whom?’—It was for a poor brother slave, whom Majesty had sometimes - noticed slaving in those quarters. ‘What did he die of?’—‘Of - hunger:’—the King gave his steed the spur.<a href="#linknote-16" - name="linknoteref-16" id="linknoteref-16">[16]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But figure his thought, when Death is now clutching at his own - heart-strings, unlooked for, inexorable! Yes, poor Louis, Death has found - thee. No palace walls or life-guards, gorgeous tapestries or gilt buckram - of stiffest ceremonial could keep him out; but he is here, here at thy - very life-breath, and will extinguish it. Thou, whose whole existence - hitherto was a chimera and scenic show, at length becomest a reality: - sumptuous Versailles bursts asunder, like a dream, into void Immensity; - Time is done, and all the scaffolding of Time falls wrecked with hideous - clangour round thy soul: the pale Kingdoms yawn open; there must thou - enter, naked, all unking’d, and await what is appointed thee! Unhappy - man, there as thou turnest, in dull agony, on thy bed of weariness, what - a thought is thine! Purgatory and Hell-fire, now all-too possible, in the - prospect; in the retrospect,—alas, what thing didst thou do that - were not better undone; what mortal didst thou generously help; what - sorrow hadst thou mercy on? Do the “five hundred thousand” ghosts, who - sank shamefully on so many battle-fields from Rossbach to Quebec, that - thy Harlot might take revenge for an epigram,—crowd round thee in - this hour? Thy foul Harem; the curses of mothers, the tears and infamy of - daughters? Miserable man! thou “hast done evil as thou couldst:” thy - whole existence seems one hideous abortion and mistake of Nature; the use - and meaning of thee not yet known. Wert thou a fabulous Griffin, - <i>devouring</i> the works of men; daily dragging virgins to thy - cave;—clad also in scales that no spear would pierce: no spear but - Death’s? A Griffin not fabulous but real! Frightful, O Louis, seem these - moments for thee.—We will pry no further into the horrors of a - sinner’s death-bed. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And yet let no meanest man lay flattering unction to his soul. Louis was - a Ruler; but art not thou also one? His wide France, look at it from the - Fixed Stars (themselves not yet Infinitude), is no wider than thy narrow - brickfield, where thou too didst faithfully, or didst unfaithfully. Man, - “Symbol of Eternity imprisoned into Time!” it is not thy works, which - are all mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater than the - least, but only the Spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or - continuance. - </p> - - <p> - But reflect, in any case, what a life-problem this of poor Louis, when he - rose as <i>Bien-Aimé</i> from that Metz sick-bed, really was! What son of - Adam could have swayed such incoherences into coherence? Could he? - Blindest Fortune alone has cast <i>him</i> on the top of it: he swims - there; can as little sway it as the drift-log sways the wind-tossed - moon-stirred Atlantic. ‘What have I done to be so loved?’ he said then. - He may say now: What have I done to be so hated? Thou hast done nothing, - poor Louis! Thy fault is properly even this, that thou didst - <i>nothing</i>. What could poor Louis do? Abdicate, and wash his hands of - it,—in favour of the first that would accept! Other clear wisdom - there was none for him. As it was, he stood gazing dubiously, the - absurdest mortal extant (a very Solecism Incarnate), into the absurdest - confused world;—wherein at lost nothing seemed so certain as that - he, the incarnate Solecism, had five senses; that were Flying Tables - (<i>Tables Volantes</i>, which vanish through the floor, to come back - reloaded). and a <i>Parc-aux-cerfs</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Whereby at least we have again this historical curiosity: a human being - in an original position; swimming passively, as on some boundless “Mother - of Dead Dogs,” towards issues which he partly saw. For Louis had withal a - kind of insight in him. So, when a new Minister of Marine, or what else - it might be, came announcing his new era, the Scarlet-woman would hear - from the lips of Majesty at supper: ‘Yes, he spread out his ware like another; - promised the beautifulest things in the world; not a thing of which will - come: he does not know this region; he will see.’ Or again: ‘’Tis the - twentieth time I hear all that; France will never get a Navy, I believe.’ - How touching also was this: ‘If <i>I</i> were Lieutenant of Police, I - would prohibit those Paris cabriolets.’<a href="#linknote-17" - name="linknoteref-17" id="linknoteref-17">[17]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Doomed mortal;—for is it not a doom to be Solecism incarnate! A new - <i>Roi Fainéant</i>, King Donothing; but with the strangest new <i>Mayor - of the Palace:</i> no bow-legged Pepin now for <i>Mayor</i>, but that - same cloud-capt, fire-breathing Spectre of DEMOCRACY; incalculable, which - is enveloping the world!—Was Louis no wickeder than this or the - other private Donothing and Eatall; such as we often enough see, under - the name of Man, and even Man of Pleasure, cumbering God’s diligent - Creation, for a time? Say, wretcheder! His Life-solecism was seen and - felt of a whole scandalised world; him endless Oblivion cannot engulf, - and swallow to endless depths,—not yet for a generation or two. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - However, be this as it will, we remark, not without interest, that “on - the evening of the 4th,” Dame Dubarry issues from the sick-room, with - perceptible “trouble in her visage.” It is the fourth evening of May, - year of Grace 1774. Such a whispering in the Œil-de-Bœuf! Is he dying - then? What can be said is, that Dubarry seems making up her packages; she - sails weeping through her gilt boudoirs, as if taking leave. D’Aiguilon - and Company are near their last card; nevertheless they will not yet - throw up the game. But as for the sacramental controversy, it is as good - as settled without being mentioned; Louis can send for his Abbé Moudon in - the course of next night, be confessed by him, some say for the space of - “seventeen minutes,” and demand the sacraments of his own accord. - </p> - - <p> - Nay, already, in the afternoon, behold is not this your Sorceress Dubarry - with the handkerchief at her eyes, mounting D’Aiguillon’s chariot; - rolling off in his Duchess’s consolatory arms? She is gone; and her place - knows her no more. Vanish, false Sorceress; into Space! Needless to hover - at neighbouring Ruel; for thy day is done. Shut are the royal - palace-gates for evermore; hardly in coming years shalt thou, under cloud - of night, descend once, in black domino, like a black night-bird, and - disturb the fair Antoinette’s music-party in the Park: all Birds of - Paradise flying from thee, and musical windpipes growing mute.<a - href="#linknote-18" name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18">[18]</a> - Thou unclean, yet unmalignant, not unpitiable thing! What a course was - thine: from that first trucklebed (in Joan of Arc’s country) where thy - mother bore thee, with tears, to an unnamed father: forward, through - lowest subterranean depths, and over highest sunlit heights, of Harlotdom - and Rascaldom—to the guillotine-axe, which shears away thy vainly - whimpering head! Rest there uncursed; only buried and abolished: what - else befitted thee? - </p> - - <p> - Louis, meanwhile, is in considerable impatience for his sacraments; sends - more than once to the window, to see whether they are not coming. Be of - comfort, Louis, what comfort thou canst: they are under way, those - sacraments. Towards six in the morning, they arrive. Cardinal - Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon is here, in pontificals, with his pyxes and his - tools; he approaches the royal pillow; elevates his wafer; mutters or - seems to mutter somewhat;—and so (as the Abbé Georgel, in words - that stick to one, expresses it) has Louis “made the <i>amende - honorable</i> to God;” so does your Jesuit construe it.—‘<i>Wa, - Wa</i>,’ as the wild Clotaire groaned out, when life was departing, ‘what - great God is this that pulls down the strength of the strongest kings!’<a - href="#linknote-19" name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19">[19]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The <i>amende honorable</i>, what “legal apology” you will, to - God:—but not, if D’Aiguillon can help it, to man. Dubarry still - hovers in his mansion at Ruel; and while there is life, there is hope. - Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon, accordingly (for he seems to be in the - secret), has no sooner seen his pyxes and gear repacked, then he is - stepping majestically forth again, as if the work were done! But King’s - Confessor Abbé Moudon starts forward; with anxious acidulent face, - twitches him by the sleeve; whispers in his ear. Whereupon the poor - Cardinal must turn round; and declare audibly; ‘That his Majesty repents - of any subjects of scandal he may have given (<i>a pu donner</i>); and - purposes, by the strength of Heaven assisting him, to avoid the - like—for the future!’ Words listened to by Richelieu with - mastiff-face, growing blacker; answered to, aloud, “with an - epithet,”—which Besenval will not repeat. Old Richelieu, conqueror - of Minorca, companion of Flying-Table orgies, perforator of bedroom - walls,<a href="#linknote-20" name="linknoteref-20" - id="linknoteref-20">[20]</a> is thy day also done? - </p> - - <p> - Alas, the Chapel organs may keep going; the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve be - let down, and pulled up again,—without effect. In the evening the - whole Court, with Dauphin and Dauphiness, assist at the Chapel: priests - are hoarse with chanting their “Prayers of Forty Hours;” and the heaving - bellows blow. Almost frightful! For the very heaven blackens; battering - rain-torrents dash, with thunder; almost drowning the organ’s voice: and - electric fire-flashes make the very flambeaux on the altar pale. So that - the most, as we are told, retired, when it was over, with hurried steps, - “in a state of meditation (<i>recueillement</i>),” and said little or - nothing.<a href="#linknote-21" name="linknoteref-21" - id="linknoteref-21">[21]</a> - </p> - - <p> - So it has lasted for the better half of a fortnight; the Dubarry gone - almost a week. Besenval says, all the world was getting impatient <i>que - cela finît;</i> that poor Louis would have done with it. It is now the - 10th of May 1774. He will soon have done now. - </p> - - <p> - This tenth May day falls into the loathsome sick-bed; but dull, unnoticed - there: for they that look out of the windows are quite darkened; the - cistern-wheel moves discordant on its axis; Life, like a spent steed, is - panting towards the goal. In their remote apartments, Dauphin and - Dauphiness stand road-ready; all grooms and equerries booted and spurred: - waiting for some signal to escape the house of pestilence.<a - href="#linknote-22" name="linknoteref-22" id="linknoteref-22">[22]</a> - And, hark! across the Œil-de-Bœuf, what sound is that; sound “terrible - and absolutely like thunder”? It is the rush of the whole Court, rushing - as in wager, to salute the new Sovereigns: Hail to your Majesties! The - Dauphin and Dauphiness are King and Queen! Over-powered with many - emotions, they two fall on their knees together, and, with streaming - tears, exclaim, ‘O God, guide us, protect us; we are too young to - reign!’—Too young indeed. - </p> - - <p> - Thus, in any case, “with a sound absolutely like thunder,” has the - Horologe of Time struck, and an old Era passed away. The Louis that was, - lies forsaken, a mass of abhorred clay; abandoned “to some poor persons, - and priests of the <i>Chapelle Ardente</i>,”—who make haste to put - him “in two lead coffins, pouring in abundant spirits of wine.” The new - Louis with his Court is rolling towards Choisy, through the summer - afternoon: the royal tears still flow; but a word mispronounced by - Monseigneur d’Artois sets them all laughing, and they weep no more. Light - mortals, how ye walk your light life-minuet, over bottomless abysses, - divided from you by a film! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For the rest, the proper authorities felt that no Funeral could be too - unceremonious. Besenval himself thinks it was unceremonious enough. Two - carriages containing two noblemen of the usher species, and a Versailles - clerical person; some score of mounted pages, some fifty palfreniers; - these, with torches, but not so much as in black, start from Versailles - on the second evening with their leaden bier. At a high trot they start; - and keep up that pace. For the jibes (<i>brocards</i>) of those - Parisians, who stand planted in two rows, all the way to St. Denis, and - “give vent to their pleasantry, the characteristic of the nation,” do not - tempt one to slacken. Towards midnight the vaults of St. Denis receive - their own; unwept by any eye of all these; if not by poor <i>Loque</i> - his neglected Daughter’s, whose Nunnery is hard by. - </p> - - <p> - Him they crush down, and huddle under-ground, in this impatient way; him - and his era of sin and tyranny and shame; for behold a New Era is come; - the future all the brighter that the past was base. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"></a> - BOOK 1.II.<br/> - THE PAPER AGE - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> - Chapter 1.2.I.<br/> - Astræa Redux. - </h3> - - <p> - A paradoxical philosopher, carrying to the uttermost length that aphorism - of Montesquieu’s, “Happy the people whose annals are tiresome,” has said, - “Happy the people whose annals are vacant.” In which saying, mad as it - looks, may there not still be found some grain of reason? For truly, as - it has been written, “Silence is divine,” and of Heaven; so in all - earthly things too there is a silence which is better than any speech. - Consider it well, the Event, the thing which can be spoken of and - recorded, is it not, in all cases, some disruption, some solution of - continuity? Were it even a glad Event, it involves change, involves loss - (of active Force); and so far, either in the past or in the present, is - an irregularity, a disease. Stillest perseverance were our blessedness; - not dislocation and alteration,—could they be avoided. - </p> - - <p> - The oak grows silently, in the forest, a thousand years; only in the - thousandth year, when the woodman arrives with his axe, is there heard an - echoing through the solitudes; and the oak announces itself when, with a - far-sounding crash, it <i>falls</i>. How silent too was the planting of - the acorn; scattered from the lap of some wandering wind! Nay, when our - oak flowered, or put on its leaves (its glad Events), what shout of - proclamation could there be? Hardly from the most observant a word of - recognition. These things <i>befell</i> not, they were slowly - <i>done;</i> not in an hour, but through the flight of days: what was to - be said of it? This hour seemed altogether as the last was, as the next - would be. - </p> - - <p> - It is thus everywhere that foolish Rumour babbles not of what was done, - but of what was misdone or undone; and foolish History (ever, more or - less, the written epitomised synopsis of Rumour) knows so little that - were not as well unknown. Attila Invasions, Walter-the-Penniless - Crusades, Sicilian Vespers, Thirty-Years Wars: mere sin and misery; not - work, but hindrance of work! For the Earth, all this while, was yearly - green and yellow with her kind harvests; the hand of the craftsman, the - mind of the thinker rested not: and so, after all, and in spite of all, - we have this so glorious high-domed blossoming World; concerning which, - poor History may well ask, with wonder, Whence <i>it</i> came? She knows - so little of it, knows so much of what obstructed it, what would have - rendered it impossible. Such, nevertheless, by necessity or foolish - choice, is her rule and practice; whereby that paradox, “Happy the people - whose annals are vacant,” is not without its true side. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And yet, what seems more pertinent to note here, there is a stillness, - not of unobstructed growth, but of passive inertness, and symptom of - imminent downfall. As victory is silent, so is defeat. Of the opposing - forces the weaker has resigned itself; the stronger marches on, noiseless - now, but rapid, inevitable: the fall and overturn will not be noiseless. - How all grows, and has its period, even as the herbs of the fields, be it - annual, centennial, millennial! All grows and dies, each by its own - wondrous laws, in wondrous fashion of its own; spiritual things most - wondrously of all. Inscrutable, to the wisest, are these latter; not to - be prophesied of, or understood. If when the oak stands proudliest - flourishing to the eye, you know that its heart is sound, it is not so - with the man; how much less with the Society, with the Nation of men! Of - such it may be affirmed even that the superficial aspect, that the inward - feeling of full health, is generally ominous. For indeed it is of - apoplexy, so to speak, and a plethoric lazy habit of body, that Churches, - Kingships, Social Institutions, oftenest die. Sad, when such Institution - plethorically says to itself, Take thy ease, thou hast goods laid - up;—like the fool of the Gospel, to whom it was answered, Fool, - <i>this night</i> thy life shall be required of thee! - </p> - - <p> - Is it the healthy peace, or the ominous unhealthy, that rests on France, - for these next Ten Years? Over which the Historian can pass lightly, - without call to linger: for as yet events are not, much less - performances. Time of sunniest stillness;—shall we call it, what - all men thought it, the new Age of Gold? Call it at least, of Paper; - which in many ways is the succedaneum of Gold. Bank-paper, wherewith you - can still buy when there is no gold left; Book-paper, splendent with - Theories, Philosophies, Sensibilities,—beautiful art, not only of - revealing Thought, but also of so beautifully hiding from us the want of - Thought! Paper is made from the <i>rags</i> of things that did once - exist; there are endless excellences in Paper.—What wisest - Philosophe, in this halcyon uneventful period, could prophesy that there - was approaching, big with darkness and confusion, the event of events? - Hope ushers in a Revolution,—as earthquakes are preceded by bright - weather. On the Fifth of May, fifteen years hence, old Louis will not be - sending for the Sacraments; but a new Louis, his grandson, with the whole - pomp of astonished intoxicated France, will be opening the - States-General. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Dubarrydom and its D’Aiguillons are gone forever. There is a young, still - docile, well-intentioned King; a young, beautiful and bountiful, - well-intentioned Queen; and with them all France, as it were, become - young. Maupeou and his Parlement have to vanish into thick night; - respectable Magistrates, not indifferent to the Nation, were it only for - having been opponents of the Court, can descend unchained from their - “steep rocks at Croe in Combrailles” and elsewhere, and return singing - praises: the old Parlement of Paris resumes its functions. Instead of a - profligate bankrupt Abbé Terray, we have now, for Controller-General, a - virtuous philosophic Turgot, with a whole Reformed France in his head. By - whom whatsoever is wrong, in Finance or otherwise, will be - righted,—as far as possible. Is it not as if Wisdom herself were - henceforth to have seat and voice in the Council of Kings? Turgot has - taken office with the noblest plainness of speech to that effect; been - listened to with the noblest royal trustfulness.<a href="#linknote-23" - name="linknoteref-23" id="linknoteref-23">[23]</a> It is true, as King - Louis objects, ‘They say he never goes to mass;’ but liberal France likes - him little worse for that; liberal France answers, ‘The Abbé Terray - always went.’ Philosophism sees, for the first time, a Philosophe (or - even a Philosopher) in office: she in all things will applausively second - him; neither will light old Maurepas obstruct, if he can easily help it. - </p> - - <p> - Then how “sweet” are the manners; vice “losing all its deformity;” - becoming <i>decent</i> (as established things, making regulations for - themselves, do); becoming almost a kind of “sweet” virtue! Intelligence - so abounds; irradiated by wit and the art of conversation. Philosophism - sits joyful in her glittering saloons, the dinner-guest of Opulence grown - ingenuous, the very nobles proud to sit by her; and preaches, lifted up - over all Bastilles, a coming millennium. From far Ferney, Patriarch - Voltaire gives sign: veterans Diderot, D’Alembert have lived to see this - day; these with their younger Marmontels, Morellets, Chamforts, Raynals, - make glad the spicy board of rich ministering Dowager, of philosophic - Farmer-General. O nights and suppers of the gods! Of a truth, the - long-demonstrated will now be done: “the Age of Revolutions approaches” - (as Jean Jacques wrote), but then of happy blessed ones. Man awakens from - his long somnambulism; chases the Phantasms that beleagured and bewitched - him. Behold the new morning glittering down the eastern steeps; fly, - false Phantasms, from its shafts of light; let the Absurd fly utterly - forsaking this lower Earth for ever. It is Truth and <i>Astræa Redux</i> - that (in the shape of Philosophism) henceforth reign. For what imaginable - purpose was man made, if not to be “happy”? By victorious Analysis, and - Progress of the Species, happiness enough now awaits him. Kings can - become philosophers; or else philosophers Kings. Let but Society be once - rightly constituted,—by victorious Analysis. The stomach that is - empty shall be filled; the throat that is dry shall be wetted with wine. - Labour itself shall be all one as rest; not grievous, but joyous. - Wheatfields, one would think, cannot come to grow untilled; no man made - clayey, or made weary thereby;—unless indeed machinery will do it? - Gratuitous Tailors and Restaurateurs may start up, at fit intervals, one - as yet sees not how. But if each will, according to rule of Benevolence, - have a care for all, then surely—no one will be uncared for. Nay, - who knows but, by sufficiently victorious Analysis, “human life may be - indefinitely lengthened,” and men get rid of Death, as they have already - done of the Devil? We shall then be happy in spite of Death and the - Devil.—So preaches magniloquent Philosophism her <i>Redeunt - Saturnia regna.</i> - </p> - - <p> - The prophetic song of Paris and its Philosophes is audible enough in the - Versailles Œil-de-Bœuf; and the Œil-de-Bœuf, intent chiefly on nearer - blessedness, can answer, at worst, with a polite ‘Why not?’ Good old - cheery Maurepas is too joyful a Prime Minister to dash the world’s joy. - Sufficient for the day be its own evil. Cheery old man, he cuts his - jokes, and hovers careless along; his cloak well adjusted to the wind, if - so be he may please all persons. The simple young King, whom a Maurepas - cannot think of troubling with business, has retired into the interior - apartments; taciturn, irresolute; though with a sharpness of temper at - times: he, at length, determines on a little smithwork; and so, in - apprenticeship with a Sieur Gamain (whom one day he shall have little - cause to bless), is learning to make locks.<a href="#linknote-24" - name="linknoteref-24" id="linknoteref-24">[24]</a> It appears further, he - understood Geography; and could read English. Unhappy young King, his - childlike trust in that foolish old Maurepas deserved another return. But - friend and foe, destiny and himself have combined to do him hurt. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile the fair young Queen, in her halls of state, walks like a - goddess of Beauty, the cynosure of all eyes; as yet mingles not with - affairs; heeds not the future; least of all, dreads it. Weber and - Campan<a href="#linknote-25" name="linknoteref-25" - id="linknoteref-25">[25]</a> have pictured her, there within the royal - tapestries, in bright boudoirs, baths, peignoirs, and the Grand and - Little Toilette; with a whole brilliant world waiting obsequious on her - glance: fair young daughter of Time, what things has Time in store for - thee! Like Earth’s brightest Appearance, she moves gracefully, environed - with the grandeur of Earth: a reality, and yet a magic vision; for, - behold, shall not utter Darkness swallow it! The soft young heart adopts - orphans, portions meritorious maids, delights to succour the - poor,—such poor as come picturesquely in her way; and sets the - fashion of doing it; for as was said, Benevolence has now begun reigning. - In her Duchess de Polignac, in Princess de Lamballe, she enjoys something - almost like friendship; now too, after seven long years, she has a child, - and soon even a Dauphin, of her own; can reckon herself, as Queens go, - happy in a husband. - </p> - - <p> - Events? The Grand events are but charitable Feasts of Morals (<i>Fêtes - des mœurs</i>), with their Prizes and Speeches; Poissarde Processions to - the Dauphin’s cradle; above all, Flirtations, their rise, progress, - decline and fall. There are Snow-statues raised by the poor in hard - winter to a Queen who has given them fuel. There are masquerades, - theatricals; beautifyings of little Trianon, purchase and repair of St. - Cloud; journeyings from the summer Court-Elysium to the winter one. There - are poutings and grudgings from the Sardinian Sisters-in-law (for the - Princes too are wedded); little jealousies, which Court-Etiquette can - moderate. Wholly the lightest-hearted frivolous foam of Existence; yet an - artfully refined foam; pleasant were it not so costly, like that which - mantles on the wine of Champagne! - </p> - - <p> - Monsieur, the King’s elder Brother, has set up for a kind of wit; and - leans towards the Philosophe side. Monseigneur d’Artois pulls the mask - from a fair impertinent; fights a duel in consequence,—almost - drawing blood.<a href="#linknote-26" name="linknoteref-26" - id="linknoteref-26">[26]</a> He has breeches of a kind new in this - world;—a fabulous kind; “four tall lackeys,” says Mercier, as if he - had seen it, “hold him up in the air, that he may fall into the garment - without vestige of wrinkle; from which rigorous encasement the same four, - in the same way, and with more effort, must deliver him at night.”<a - href="#linknote-27" name="linknoteref-27" id="linknoteref-27">[27]</a> - This last is he who now, as a gray time-worn man, sits desolate at - Grätz;<a href="#linknote-28" name="linknoteref-28" - id="linknoteref-28">[28]</a> having winded up his destiny with the Three - Days. In such sort are poor mortals swept and shovelled to and fro. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> - Chapter 1.2.II.<br/> - Petition in Hieroglyphs. - </h3> - - <p> - With the working people, again it is not so well. Unlucky! For there are - twenty to twenty-five millions of them. Whom, however, we lump together - into a kind of dim compendious unity, monstrous but dim, far off, as the - <i>canaille;</i> or, more humanely, as “the masses.” Masses, indeed: and - yet, singular to say, if, with an effort of imagination, thou follow - them, over broad France, into their clay hovels, into their garrets and - hutches, the masses consist all of units. Every unit of whom has his own - heart and sorrows; stands covered there with his own skin, and if you - prick him he will bleed. O purple Sovereignty, Holiness, Reverence; thou, - for example, Cardinal Grand-Almoner, with thy plush covering of honour, - who hast thy hands strengthened with dignities and moneys, and art set on - thy world watch-tower solemnly, in sight of God, for such - ends,—what a thought: that every unit of these masses is a - miraculous Man, even as thyself art; struggling, with vision, or with - blindness, for <i>his</i> infinite Kingdom (this life which he has got, - once only, in the middle of Eternities); with a spark of the Divinity, - what thou callest an immortal soul, in him! - </p> - - <p> - Dreary, languid do these struggle in their obscure remoteness; their - hearth cheerless, their diet thin. For them, in this world, rises no Era - of Hope; hardly now in the other,—if it be not hope in the gloomy - rest of Death, for their faith too is failing. Untaught, uncomforted, - unfed! A dumb generation; their voice only an inarticulate cry: - spokesman, in the King’s Council, in the world’s forum, they have none - that finds credence. At rare intervals (as now, in 1775), they will fling - down their hoes and hammers; and, to the astonishment of thinking - mankind,<a href="#linknote-29" name="linknoteref-29" - id="linknoteref-29">[29]</a> flock hither and thither, dangerous, - aimless; get the length even of Versailles. Turgot is altering the - Corn-trade, abrogating the absurdest Corn-laws; there is dearth, real, or - were it even “factitious;” an indubitable scarcity of bread. And so, on - the second day of May 1775, these waste multitudes do here, at Versailles - Château, in wide-spread wretchedness, in sallow faces, squalor, winged - raggedness, present, as in legible hieroglyphic writing, their Petition - of Grievances. The Château gates have to be shut; but the King will - appear on the balcony, and speak to them. They have seen the King’s face; - their Petition of Grievances has been, if not read, looked at. For - answer, two of them are hanged, on a “new gallows forty feet high;” and - the rest driven back to their dens,—for a time. - </p> - - <p> - Clearly a difficult “point” for Government, that of dealing with these - masses;—if indeed it be not rather the sole point and problem of - Government, and all other points mere accidental crotchets, - superficialities, and beatings of the wind! For let Charter-Chests, Use - and Wont, Law common and special say what they will, the masses count to - so many millions of units; made, to all appearance, by God,—whose - Earth this is declared to be. Besides, the people are not without - ferocity; they have sinews and indignation. Do but look what holiday old - Marquis Mirabeau, the crabbed old friend of Men, looked on, in these same - years, from his lodging, at the Baths of Mont d’Or: “The savages - descending in torrents from the mountains; our people ordered not to go - out. The Curate in surplice and stole; Justice in its peruke; Marechausee - sabre in hand, guarding the place, till the bagpipes can begin. The dance - interrupted, in a quarter of an hour, by battle; the cries, the - squealings of children, of infirm persons, and other assistants, tarring - them on, as the rabble does when dogs fight: frightful men, or rather - frightful wild animals, clad in jupes of coarse woollen, with large - girdles of leather studded with copper nails; of gigantic stature, - heightened by high wooden-clogs (<i>sabots</i>); rising on tiptoe to see - the fight; tramping time to it; rubbing their sides with their elbows: - their faces haggard (<i>figures hâves</i>), and covered with their long - greasy hair; the upper part of the visage waxing pale, the lower - distorting itself into the attempt at a cruel laugh and a sort of - ferocious impatience. And these people pay the <i>taille!</i> And you - want further to take their salt from them! And you know not what it is - you are stripping barer, or as you call it, governing; what by the spurt - of your pen, in its cold dastard indifference, you will fancy you can - starve always with impunity; always till the catastrophe come!—Ah - Madame, such Government by Blindman’s-buff, stumbling along too far, will - end in the General Overturn (<i>culbute générale</i>).”<a - href="#linknote-30" name="linknoteref-30" id="linknoteref-30">[30]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Undoubtedly a dark feature this in an Age of Gold,—Age, at least, - of Paper and Hope! Meanwhile, trouble us not with thy prophecies, O - croaking Friend of Men: ’tis long that we have heard such; and still the - old world keeps wagging, in its old way. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> - Chapter 1.2.III.<br/> - Questionable. - </h3> - - <p> - Or is this same Age of Hope itself but a simulacrum; as Hope too often - is? Cloud-vapour with rainbows painted on it, beautiful to see, to sail - towards,—which hovers over Niagara Falls? In that case, victorious - Analysis will have enough to do. - </p> - - <p> - Alas, yes! a whole world to remake, if she could see it; work for another - than she! For all is wrong, and gone out of joint; the inward spiritual, - and the outward economical; head or heart, there is no soundness in it. - As indeed, evils of all sorts are more or less of kin, and do usually go - together: especially it is an old truth, that wherever huge physical evil - is, there, as the parent and origin of it, has moral evil to a - proportionate extent been. Before those five-and-twenty labouring - Millions, for instance, could get that haggardness of face, which old - Mirabeau now looks on, in a Nation calling itself Christian, and calling - man the brother of man,—what unspeakable, nigh infinite Dishonesty - (of <i>seeming</i> and not <i>being</i>) in all manner of Rulers, and - appointed Watchers, spiritual and temporal, must there not, through long - ages, have gone on accumulating! It will accumulate: moreover, it will - reach a head; for the first of all Gospels is this, that a Lie cannot - endure for ever. - </p> - - <p> - In fact, if we pierce through that rosepink vapour of Sentimentalism, - Philanthropy, and Feasts of Morals, there lies behind it one of the - sorriest spectacles. You might ask, What bonds that ever held a human - society happily together, or held it together at all, are in force here? - It is an unbelieving people; which has suppositions, hypotheses, and - froth-systems of victorious Analysis; and for <i>belief</i> this mainly, - that Pleasure is pleasant. Hunger they have for all sweet things; and the - law of Hunger; but what other law? Within them, or over them, properly - none! - </p> - - <p> - Their King has become a King Popinjay; with his Maurepas Government, - gyrating as the weather-cock does, blown about by every wind. Above them - they see no God; or they even do not look above, except with astronomical - glasses. The Church indeed still is; but in the most submissive state; - quite tamed by Philosophism; in a singularly short time; for the hour was - come. Some twenty years ago, your Archbishop Beaumont would not even let - the poor Jansenists get buried: your Loménie Brienne (a rising man, whom - we shall meet with yet) could, in the name of the Clergy, insist on - having the Anti-protestant laws, which condemn to death for preaching, - “put in execution.”<a href="#linknote-31" name="linknoteref-31" - id="linknoteref-31">[31]</a> And, alas, now not so much as Baron - Holbach’s Atheism can be burnt,—except as pipe-matches by the - private speculative individual. Our Church stands haltered, dumb, like a - dumb ox; lowing only for provender (of tithes); content if it can have - that; or, dumbly, dully expecting its further doom. And the Twenty - Millions of “haggard faces;” and, as finger-post and guidance to them in - their dark struggle, “a gallows forty feet high”! Certainly a singular - Golden Age; with its Feasts of Morals, its “sweet manners,” its sweet - institutions (<i>institutions douces</i>); betokening nothing but peace - among men!—Peace? O Philosophe-Sentimentalism, what hast thou to do - with peace, when thy mother’s name is Jezebel? Foul Product of still - fouler Corruption, thou with the corruption art doomed! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile it is singular how long the rotten will hold together, provided - you do not handle it roughly. For whole generations it continues - standing, “with a ghastly affectation of life,” after all life and truth - has fled out of it; so loth are men to quit their old ways; and, - conquering indolence and inertia, venture on new. Great truly is the - Actual; is the Thing that has rescued itself from bottomless deeps of - theory and possibility, and stands there as a definite indisputable Fact, - whereby men do work and live, or once did so. Widely shall men cleave to - that, while it will endure; and quit it with regret, when it gives way - under them. Rash enthusiast of Change, beware! Hast thou well considered - all that Habit does in this life of ours; how all Knowledge and all - Practice hang wondrous over infinite abysses of the Unknown, - Impracticable; and our whole being is an infinite abyss, - <i>overarched</i> by Habit, as by a thin Earth-rind, laboriously built - together? - </p> - - <p> - But if “every man,” as it has been written, “holds confined within him a - <i>mad</i>-man,” what must every Society do;—Society, which in its - commonest state is called “the standing miracle of this world”! “Without - such Earth-rind of Habit,” continues our author, “call it System of - Habits, in a word, <i>fixed ways</i> of acting and of - believing,—Society would not exist at all. With such it exists, - better or worse. Herein too, in this its System of Habits, acquired, - retained how you will, lies the true Law-Code and Constitution of a - Society; the only Code, though an unwritten one which it can in nowise - <i>dis</i>obey. The thing we call written Code, Constitution, Form of - Government, and the like, what is it but some miniature image, and - solemnly expressed summary of this unwritten Code? <i>Is</i>,—or - rather alas, is <i>not;</i> but only should be, and always tends to be! - In which latter discrepancy lies struggle without end.” And now, we add - in the same dialect, let but, by ill chance, in such ever-enduring - struggle,—your “thin Earth-rind” be once <i>broken!</i> The - fountains of the great deep boil forth; fire-fountains, enveloping, - engulfing. Your “Earth-rind” is shattered, swallowed up; instead of a - green flowery world, there is a waste wild-weltering chaos:—which - has again, with tumult and struggle, to <i>make</i> itself into a world. - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, be this conceded: Where thou findest a Lie that is - oppressing thee, extinguish it. Lies exist there only to be extinguished; - they wait and cry earnestly for extinction. Think well, meanwhile, in - what spirit thou wilt do it: not with hatred, with headlong selfish - violence; but in clearness of heart, with holy zeal, gently, almost with - pity. Thou wouldst not <i>replace</i> such extinct Lie by a new Lie, - which a new Injustice of thy own were; the parent of still other Lies? - Whereby the latter end of that business were worse than the beginning. - </p> - - <p> - So, however, in this world of ours, which has both an indestructible hope - in the Future, and an indestructible tendency to persevere as in the - Past, must Innovation and Conservation wage their perpetual conflict, as - they may and can. Wherein the “dæmonic element,” that lurks in all human - things, <i>may</i> doubtless, some once in the thousand years—get - vent! But indeed may we not regret that such conflict,—which, after - all, is but like that classical one of “hate-filled Amazons with heroic - Youths,” and will end in <i>embraces</i>,—should usually be so - spasmodic? For Conservation, strengthened by that mightiest quality in - us, our indolence, sits for long ages, not victorious only, which she - should be; but tyrannical, incommunicative. She holds her adversary as if - annihilated; such adversary lying, all the while, like some buried - Enceladus; who, to gain the smallest freedom, must stir a whole Trinacria - with it Ætnas. - </p> - - <p> - Wherefore, on the whole, we will honour a Paper Age too; an Era of hope! - For in this same frightful process of Enceladus Revolt; when the task, on - which no mortal would willingly enter, has become imperative, - inevitable,—is it not even a kindness of Nature that she lures us - forward by cheerful promises, fallacious or not; and a whole generation - plunges into the Erebus Blackness, lighted on by an Era of Hope? It has - been well said: “Man is based on Hope; he has properly no other - possession but Hope; this habitation of his is named the Place of Hope.” - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> - Chapter 1.2.IV.<br/> - Maurepas. - </h3> - - <p> - But now, among French hopes, is not that of old M. de Maurepas one of the - best-grounded; who hopes that he, by dexterity, shall contrive to - continue Minister? Nimble old man, who for all emergencies has his light - jest; and ever in the worst confusion will emerge, cork-like, unsunk! - Small care to him is Perfectibility, Progress of the Species, and - <i>Astræa Redux:</i> good only, that a man of light wit, verging towards - fourscore, can in the seat of authority feel himself important among men. - Shall we call him, as haughty Châteauroux was wont of old, “<i>M. - Faquinet</i> (Diminutive of Scoundrel)”? In courtier dialect, he is now - named “the Nestor of France;” such governing Nestor as France has. - </p> - - <p> - At bottom, nevertheless, it might puzzle one to say where the Government - of France, in these days, specially is. In that Château of Versailles, we - have Nestor, King, Queen, ministers and clerks, with paper-bundles tied - in tape: but the Government? For Government is a thing that - <i>governs</i>, that guides; and if need be, compels. Visible in France - there is not such a thing. Invisible, inorganic, on the other hand, there - is: in Philosophe saloons, in Œil-de-Bœuf galleries; in the tongue of the - babbler, in the pen of the pamphleteer. Her Majesty appearing at the - Opera is applauded; she returns all radiant with joy. Anon the applauses - wax fainter, or threaten to cease; she is heavy of heart, the light of - her face has fled. Is Sovereignty some poor Montgolfier; which, blown - into by the popular wind, grows great and mounts; or sinks flaccid, if - the wind be withdrawn? France was long a “Despotism tempered by - Epigrams;” and now, it would seem, the Epigrams have get the upper hand. - </p> - - <p> - Happy were a young “Louis the Desired” to make France happy; if it did - not prove too troublesome, and he only knew the way. But there is endless - discrepancy round him; so many claims and clamours; a mere confusion of - tongues. Not reconcilable by man; not manageable, suppressible, save by - some strongest and wisest men;—which only a lightly-jesting - lightly-gyrating M. de Maurepas can so much as subsist amidst. - Philosophism claims her new Era, meaning thereby innumerable things. And - claims it in no faint voice; for France at large, hitherto mute, is now - beginning to speak also; and speaks in that same sense. A huge, - many-toned sound; distant, yet not unimpressive. On the other hand, the - Œil-de-Bœuf, which, as nearest, one can hear best, claims with shrill - vehemence that the Monarchy be as heretofore a Horn of Plenty; wherefrom - loyal courtiers may draw,—to the just support of the throne. Let - Liberalism and a New Era, if such is the wish, be introduced; only no - curtailment of the royal moneys? Which latter condition, alas, is - precisely the impossible one. - </p> - - <p> - Philosophism, as we saw, has got her Turgot made Controller-General; and - there shall be endless reformation. Unhappily this Turgot could continue - only twenty months. With a miraculous <i>Fortunatus’ Purse</i> in his - Treasury, it might have lasted longer; with such Purse indeed, every - French Controller-General, that would prosper in these days, ought first - to provide himself. But here again may we not remark the bounty of Nature - in regard to Hope? Man after man advances confident to the Augean Stable, - as if <i>he</i> could clean it; expends his little fraction of an ability - on it, with such cheerfulness; does, in so far as he was honest, - accomplish something. Turgot has faculties; honesty, insight, heroic - volition; but the Fortunatus’ Purse he has not. Sanguine - Controller-General! a whole pacific French Revolution may stand schemed - in the head of the thinker; but who shall pay the unspeakable - “indemnities” that will be needed? Alas, far from that: on the very - threshold of the business, he proposes that the Clergy, the Noblesse, the - very Parlements be subjected to taxes! One shriek of indignation and - astonishment reverberates through all the Château galleries; M. de - Maurepas has to gyrate: the poor King, who had written few weeks ago, - “<i>Il n’y a que vous et moi qui aimions le peuple</i> (There is none but - you and I that has the people’s interest at heart),” must write now a - dismissal;<a href="#linknote-32" name="linknoteref-32" - id="linknoteref-32">[32]</a> and let the French Revolution accomplish - itself, pacifically or not, as it can. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Hope, then, is deferred? Deferred; not destroyed, or abated. Is not this, - for example, our Patriarch Voltaire, after long years of absence, - revisiting Paris? With face shrivelled to nothing; with “huge peruke <i>à - la Louis Quatorze</i>, which leaves only two eyes ‘visible’ glittering - like carbuncles,” the old man is here.<a href="#linknote-33" - name="linknoteref-33" id="linknoteref-33">[33]</a> What an outburst! - Sneering Paris has suddenly grown reverent; devotional with Hero-worship. - Nobles have disguised themselves as tavern-waiters to obtain sight of - him: the loveliest of France would lay their hair beneath his feet. “His - chariot is the nucleus of a comet; whose train fills whole streets:” they - crown him in the theatre, with immortal vivats; “finally stifle him under - roses,”—for old Richelieu recommended opium in such state of the - nerves, and the excessive Patriarch took too much. Her Majesty herself - had some thought of sending for him; but was dissuaded. Let Majesty - consider it, nevertheless. The purport of this man’s existence has been - to wither up and annihilate all whereon Majesty and Worship for the - present rests: and is it <i>so</i> that the world recognises him? With - Apotheosis; as its Prophet and Speaker, who has spoken wisely the thing - it longed to say? Add only, that the body of this same rose-stifled, - beatified-Patriarch cannot get buried except by stealth. It is wholly a - notable business; and France, without doubt, is <i>big</i> (what the - Germans call “Of good Hope”): we shall wish her a happy birth-hour, and - blessed fruit. - </p> - - <p> - Beaumarchais too has now winded-up his Law-Pleadings (<i>Mémoires</i>);<a - href="#linknote-34" name="linknoteref-34" id="linknoteref-34">[34]</a> - not without result, to himself and to the world. Caron Beaumarchais (or - de Beaumarchais, for he got ennobled) had been born poor, but aspiring, - esurient; with talents, audacity, adroitness; above all, with the talent - for intrigue: a lean, but also a tough, indomitable man. Fortune and - dexterity brought him to the harpsichord of Mesdames, our good Princesses - <i>Loque, Graille</i> and Sisterhood. Still better, Paris Duvernier, the - Court-Banker, honoured him with some confidence; to the length even of - transactions in cash. Which confidence, however, Duvernier’s Heir, a - person of quality, would not continue. Quite otherwise; there springs a - Lawsuit from it: wherein tough Beaumarchais, losing both money and - repute, is, in the opinion of Judge-Reporter Goezman, of the Parlement - Maupeou, of a whole indifferent acquiescing world, miserably beaten. In - all men’s opinions, only not in his own! Inspired by the indignation, - which makes, if not verses, satirical law-papers, the withered - Music-master, with a desperate heroism, takes up his lost cause in spite - of the world; fights for it, against Reporters, Parlements and - Principalities, with light banter, with clear logic; adroitly, with an - inexhaustible toughness and resource, like the skilfullest fencer; on - whom, so skilful is he, the whole world now looks. Three long years it - lasts; with wavering fortune. In fine, after labours comparable to the - Twelve of Hercules, our unconquerable Caron triumphs; regains his Lawsuit - and Lawsuits; strips Reporter Goezman of the judicial ermine; covering - him with a perpetual garment of obloquy instead:—and in regard to - the Parlement Maupeou (which he has helped to extinguish), to Parlements - of all kinds, and to French Justice generally, gives rise to endless - reflections in the minds of men. Thus has Beaumarchais, like a lean - French Hercules, ventured down, driven by destiny, into the Nether - Kingdoms; and victoriously tamed hell-dogs there. He also is henceforth - among the notabilities of his generation. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> - Chapter 1.2.V.<br/> - Astræa Redux without Cash. - </h3> - - <p> - Observe, however, beyond the Atlantic, has not the new day verily dawned! - Democracy, as we said, is born; storm-girt, is struggling for life and - victory. A sympathetic France rejoices over the Rights of Man; in all - saloons, it is said, What a spectacle! Now too behold our Deane, our - Franklin, American Plenipotentiaries, here in position soliciting;<a - href="#linknote-35" name="linknoteref-35" id="linknoteref-35">[35]</a> - the sons of the Saxon Puritans, with their Old-Saxon temper, Old-Hebrew - culture, sleek Silas, sleek Benjamin, here on such errand, among the - light children of Heathenism, Monarchy, Sentimentalism, and the - Scarlet-woman. A spectacle indeed; over which saloons may cackle joyous; - though Kaiser Joseph, questioned on it, gave this answer, most unexpected - from a Philosophe: ‘Madame, the trade I live by is that of royalist - (<i>Mon métier à moi c’est d’être royaliste</i>).’ - </p> - - <p> - So thinks light Maurepas too; but the wind of Philosophism and force of - public opinion will blow him round. Best wishes, meanwhile, are sent; - clandestine privateers armed. Paul Jones shall equip his <i>Bon Homme - Richard:</i> weapons, military stores can be smuggled over (if the - English do not seize them); wherein, once more Beaumarchais, dimly as the - Giant Smuggler becomes visible,—filling his own lank pocket withal. - But surely, in any case, France should have a Navy. For which great - object were not now the time: now when that proud Termagant of the Seas - has her hands full? It is true, an impoverished Treasury cannot build - ships; but the hint once given (which Beaumarchais says he gave), this - and the other loyal Seaport, Chamber of Commerce, will build and offer - them. Goodly vessels bound into the waters; a <i>Ville de Paris</i>, - Leviathan of ships. - </p> - - <p> - And now when gratuitous three-deckers dance there at anchor, with - streamers flying; and eleutheromaniac Philosophedom grows ever more - clamorous, what can a Maurepas do—but gyrate? Squadrons cross the - ocean: Gages, Lees, rough Yankee Generals, “with woollen night-caps under - their hats,” present arms to the far-glancing Chivalry of France; and - new-born Democracy sees, not without amazement, “Despotism tempered by - Epigrams” fight at her side. So, however, it is. King’s forces and heroic - volunteers; Rochambeaus, Bouillés, Lameths, Lafayettes, have drawn their - swords in this sacred quarrel of mankind;—shall draw them again - elsewhere, in the strangest way. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Off Ushant some naval thunder is heard. In the course of which did our - young Prince, Duke de Chartres, “hide in the hold;” or did he materially, - by <i>active</i> heroism, contribute to the victory? Alas, by a second - edition, we learn that there was no victory; or that English Keppel had - it.<a href="#linknote-36" name="linknoteref-36" - id="linknoteref-36">[36]</a> Our poor young Prince gets his Opera - plaudits changed into mocking tehees; and cannot become - Grand-Admiral,—the source to him of woes which one may call - endless. - </p> - - <p> - Woe also for <i>Ville de Paris</i>, the Leviathan of ships! English - Rodney has clutched it, and led it home, with the rest; so successful was - his new “manœuvre of breaking the enemy’s line.”<a href="#linknote-37" - name="linknoteref-37" id="linknoteref-37">[37]</a> It seems as if, - according to Louis XV., “France were never to have a Navy.” Brave Suffren - must return from Hyder Ally and the Indian Waters; with small result; yet - with great glory for “six” <i>non-defeats;</i>—which indeed, with - such seconding as he had, one may reckon heroic. Let the old sea-hero - rest now, honoured of France, in his native Cevennes mountains; send - smoke, not of gunpowder, but mere culinary smoke, through the old - chimneys of the Castle of Jalès,—which one day, in other hands, - shall have other fame. Brave Lapérouse shall by and by lift anchor, on - philanthropic Voyage of Discovery; for the King knows Geography.<a - href="#linknote-38" name="linknoteref-38" id="linknoteref-38">[38]</a> - But, alas, this also will not prosper: the brave Navigator goes, and - returns not; the Seekers search far seas for him in vain. He has vanished - trackless into blue Immensity; and only some mournful mysterious shadow - of him hovers long in all heads and hearts. - </p> - - <p> - Neither, while the War yet lasts, will Gibraltar surrender. Not though - Crillon, Nassau-Siegen, with the ablest projectors extant, are there; and - Prince Condé and Prince d’Artois have hastened to help. Wondrous - leather-roofed Floating-batteries, set afloat by French-Spanish <i>Pacte - de Famille</i>, give gallant summons: to which, nevertheless, Gibraltar - answers Plutonically, with mere torrents of redhot iron,—as if - stone Calpe had become a throat of the Pit; and utters such a - Doom’s-blast of a No, as all men must credit.<a href="#linknote-39" - name="linknoteref-39" id="linknoteref-39">[39]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so, with this loud explosion, the noise of War has ceased; an Age of - Benevolence may hope, for ever. Our noble volunteers of Freedom have - returned, to be her missionaries. Lafayette, as the matchless of his - time, glitters in the Versailles Œil-de-Beouf; has his Bust set up in the - Paris Hôtel-de-Ville. Democracy stands inexpugnable, immeasurable, in her - New World; has even a foot lifted towards the Old;—and our French - Finances, little strengthened by such work, are in no healthy way. - </p> - - <p> - What to do with the Finance? This indeed is the great question: a small - but most black weather-symptom, which no radiance of universal hope can - cover. We saw Turgot cast forth from the Controllership, with - shrieks,—for want of a Fortunatus’ Purse. As little could M. de - Clugny manage the duty; or indeed do anything, but consume his wages; - attain “a place in History,” where as an ineffectual shadow thou - beholdest him still lingering;—and let the duty manage itself. Did - Genevese Necker <i>possess</i> such a Purse, then? He possessed banker’s - skill, banker’s honesty; <i>credit</i> of all kinds, for he had written - Academic Prize Essays, struggled for India Companies, given dinners to - Philosophes, and “realised a fortune in twenty years.” He possessed, - further, a taciturnity and solemnity; of depth, or else of dulness. How - singular for Celadon Gibbon, false swain as he had proved; whose father, - keeping most probably his own gig, “would not hear of such a - union,”—to find now his forsaken Demoiselle Curchod sitting in the - high places of the world, as Minister’s Madame, and “Necker not - jealous!”<a href="#linknote-40" name="linknoteref-40" - id="linknoteref-40">[40]</a> - </p> - - <p> - A new young Demoiselle, one day to be famed as a Madame and De Staël, was - romping about the knees of the Decline and Fall: the lady Necker founds - Hospitals; gives solemn Philosophe dinner-parties, to cheer her exhausted - Controller-General. Strange things have happened: by clamour of - Philosophism, management of Marquis de Pezay, and Poverty constraining - even Kings. And so Necker, Atlas-like, sustains the burden of the - Finances, for five years long?<a href="#linknote-41" - name="linknoteref-41" id="linknoteref-41">[41]</a> Without wages, for he - refused such; cheered only by Public Opinion, and the ministering of his - noble Wife. With many thoughts in him, it is hoped;—which, however, - he is shy of uttering. His <i>Compte Rendu</i>, published by the royal - permission, fresh sign of a New Era, shows wonders;—which what but - the genius of some Atlas-Necker can prevent from becoming portents? In - Necker’s head too there is a whole pacific French Revolution, of its - kind; and in that taciturn dull depth, or deep dulness, ambition enough. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, alas, his Fotunatus’ Purse turns out to be little other than - the old “<i>vectigal</i> of Parsimony.” Nay, he too has to produce his - scheme of taxing: Clergy, Noblesse to be taxed; Provincial Assemblies, - and the rest,—like a mere Turgot! The expiring M. de Maurepas must - gyrate one other time. Let Necker also depart; not unlamented. - </p> - - <p> - Great in a private station, Necker looks on from the distance; abiding - his time. “Eighty thousand copies” of his new Book, which he calls - <i>Administration des Finances</i>, will be sold in few days. He is gone; - but shall return, and that more than once, borne by a whole shouting - Nation. Singular Controller-General of the Finances; once Clerk in - Thelusson’s Bank! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> - Chapter 1.2.VI.<br/> - Windbags. - </h3> - - <p> - So marches the world, in this its Paper Age, or Era of Hope. Not without - obstructions, war-explosions; which, however, heard from such distance, - are little other than a cheerful marching-music. If indeed that dark - living chaos of Ignorance and Hunger, five-and-twenty million strong, - under your feet,—were to begin playing! - </p> - - <p> - For the present, however, consider Longchamp; now when Lent is ending, - and the glory of Paris and France has gone forth, as in annual wont. Not - to assist at <i>Tenebris</i> Masses, but to sun itself and show itself, - and salute the Young Spring.<a href="#linknote-42" name="linknoteref-42" - id="linknoteref-42">[42]</a> Manifold, bright-tinted, glittering with - gold; all through the Bois de Boulogne, in longdrawn variegated - rows;—like longdrawn living flower-borders, tulips, dahlias, lilies - of the valley; all in their moving flower-pots (of new-gilt carriages): - pleasure of the eye, and pride of life! So rolls and dances the - Procession: steady, of firm assurance, as if it rolled on adamant and the - foundations of the world; not on mere heraldic parchment,—under - which smoulders a lake of fire. Dance on, ye foolish ones; ye sought not - wisdom, neither have ye found it. Ye and your fathers have sown the wind, - ye shall reap the whirlwind. Was it not, from of old, written: <i>The - wages of sin is death?</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But at Longchamp, as elsewhere, we remark for one thing, that dame and - cavalier are waited on each by a kind of human familiar, named - <i>jokei.</i> Little elf, or imp; though young, already withered; with - its withered air of premature vice, of knowingness, of completed - elf-hood: useful in various emergencies. The name <i>jokei</i> (jockey) - comes from the English; as the thing also fancies that it does. Our - Anglomania, in fact , is grown considerable; prophetic of much. If France - is to be free, why shall she not, now when mad war is hushed, love - neighbouring Freedom? Cultivated men, your Dukes de Liancourt, de la - Rochefoucault admire the English Constitution, the English National - Character; would import what of it they can. - </p> - - <p> - Of what is lighter, especially if it be light as wind, how much easier - the freightage! Non-Admiral Duke de Chartres (not yet d’Orléans or - Egalité) flies to and fro across the Strait; importing English Fashions; - this he, as hand-and-glove with an English Prince of Wales, is surely - qualified to do. Carriages and saddles; top-boots and <i>rédingotes</i>, - as we call riding-coats. Nay the very mode of riding: for now no man on a - level with his age but will trot <i>à l’Anglaise</i>, rising in the - stirrups; scornful of the old sitfast method, in which, according to - Shakspeare, “butter and eggs” go to market. Also, he can urge the fervid - wheels, this brave Chartres of ours; no whip in Paris is rasher and surer - than the unprofessional one of Monseigneur. - </p> - - <p> - Elf <i>jokeis</i>, we have seen; but see now real Yorkshire jockeys, and - what they ride on, and train: English racers for French Races. These - likewise we owe first (under the Providence of the Devil) to Monseigneur. - Prince d’Artois also has his stud of racers. Prince d’Artois has withal - the strangest horseleech: a moonstruck, much-enduring individual, of - Neuchâtel in Switzerland,—named <i>Jean Paul Marat</i>. A - problematic Chevalier d’Eon, now in petticoats, now in breeches, is no - less problematic in London than in Paris; and causes bets and lawsuits. - Beautiful days of international communion! Swindlery and Blackguardism - have stretched hands across the Channel, and saluted mutually: on the - racecourse of Vincennes or Sablons, behold in English curricle-and-four, - wafted glorious among the principalities and rascalities, an English Dr. - Dodd,<a href="#linknote-43" name="linknoteref-43" - id="linknoteref-43">[43]</a>—for whom also the too early gallows - gapes. - </p> - - <p> - Duke de Chartres was a young Prince of great promise, as young Princes - often are; which promise unfortunately has belied itself. With the huge - Orléans Property, with Duke de Penthievre for Father-in-law (and now the - young Brother-in-law Lamballe killed by excesses),—he will one day - be the richest man in France. Meanwhile, “his hair is all falling out, - his blood is quite spoiled,”—by early transcendentalism of - debauchery. Carbuncles stud his face; dark studs on a ground of burnished - copper. A most signal failure, this young Prince! The stuff prematurely - burnt out of him: little left but foul smoke and ashes of expiring - sensualities: what might have been Thought, Insight, and even Conduct, - gone now, or fast going,—to confused darkness, broken by - bewildering dazzlements; to obstreperous crotchets; to activities which - you may call semi-delirious, or even semi-galvanic! Paris affects to - laugh at his charioteering; but he heeds not such laughter. - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, what a day, not of laughter, was that, when he - threatened, for lucre’s sake, to lay sacrilegious hand on the - Palais-Royal Garden!<a href="#linknote-44" name="linknoteref-44" - id="linknoteref-44">[44]</a> The flower-parterres shall be riven up; the - Chestnut Avenues shall fall: time-honoured boscages, under which the - Opera Hamadryads were wont to wander, not inexorable to men. Paris moans - aloud. Philidor, from his Café de la Regence, shall no longer look on - greenness; the loungers and losels of the world, where now shall they - haunt? In vain is moaning. The axe glitters; the sacred groves fall - crashing,—for indeed Monseigneur was short of money: the Opera - Hamadryads fly with shrieks. Shriek not, ye Opera Hamadryads; or not as - those that have no comfort. He will surround your Garden with new - edifices and piazzas: though narrowed, it shall be replanted; dizened - with hydraulic jets, cannon which the sun fires at noon; things bodily, - things spiritual, such as man has not imagined;—and in the - Palais-Royal shall again, and more than ever, be the <i>Sorcerer’s - Sabbath</i> and <i>Satan-at-Home</i> of our Planet. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - What will not mortals attempt? From remote Annonay in the Vivarais, the - Brothers Montgolfier send up their paper-dome, filled with the smoke of - burnt wool.<a href="#linknote-45" name="linknoteref-45" - id="linknoteref-45">[45]</a> The Vivarais provincial assembly is to be - prorogued this same day: Vivarais Assembly-members applaud, and the - shouts of congregated men. Will victorious Analysis scale the very - Heavens, then? - </p> - - <p> - Paris hears with eager wonder; Paris shall ere long see. From Reveilion’s - Paper-warehouse there, in the Rue St. Antoine (a noted - Warehouse),—the new Montgolfier air-ship launches itself. Ducks and - poultry are borne skyward: but now shall men be borne.<a - href="#linknote-46" name="linknoteref-46" id="linknoteref-46">[46]</a> - Nay, Chemist Charles thinks of hydrogen and glazed silk. Chemist Charles - will himself ascend, from the Tuileries Garden; Montgolfier solemnly - cutting the cord. By Heaven, he also mounts, he and another? Ten times - ten thousand hearts go palpitating; all tongues are mute with wonder and - fear; till a shout, like the voice of seas, rolls after him, on his wild - way. He soars, he dwindles upwards; has become a mere gleaming - circlet,—like some Turgotine snuff-box, what we call “<i>Turgotine - Platitude;</i>” like some new daylight Moon! Finally he descends; - welcomed by the universe. Duchess Polignac, with a party, is in the Bois - de Boulogne, waiting; though it is drizzly winter; the 1st of December - 1783. The whole chivalry of France, Duke de Chartres foremost, gallops to - receive him.<a href="#linknote-47" name="linknoteref-47" - id="linknoteref-47">[47]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Beautiful invention; mounting heavenward, so beautifully,—so - unguidably! Emblem of much, and of our Age of Hope itself; which shall - mount, specifically-light, majestically in this same manner; and - hover,—tumbling whither Fate will. Well if it do not, Pilatre-like, - explode; and demount all the more tragically!—So, riding on - windbags, will men scale the Empyrean. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Or observe Herr Doctor Mesmer, in his spacious Magnetic Halls. - Long-stoled he walks; reverend, glancing upwards, as in rapt commerce; an - Antique Egyptian Hierophant in this new age. Soft music flits; breaking - fitfully the sacred stillness. Round their Magnetic Mystery, which to the - eye is mere tubs with water,—sit breathless, rod in hand, the - circles of Beauty and Fashion, each circle a living circular - <i>Passion-Flower:</i> expecting the magnetic afflatus, and - new-manufactured Heaven-on-Earth. O women, O men, great is your - infidel-faith! A Parlementary Duport, a Bergasse, D’Espréménil we notice - there; Chemist Berthollet too,—on the part of Monseigneur de - Chartres. - </p> - - <p> - Had not the Academy of Sciences, with its Baillys, Franklins, Lavoisiers, - interfered! But it did interfere. (Lacretelle, 18me Siecle, iii.258.) - Mesmer may pocket his hard money, and withdraw. Let him walk silent by - the shore of the Bodensee, by the ancient town of Constance; meditating - on much. For so, under the strangest new vesture, the old great truth - (since no vesture can hide it) begins again to be revealed: That man is - what we call a miraculous creature, with miraculous power over men; and, - on the whole, with such a Life in him, and such a World round him, as - victorious Analysis, with her Physiologies, Nervous-systems, Physic and - Metaphysic, will never completely <i>name</i>, to say nothing of - explaining. Wherein also the Quack shall, in all ages, come in for his - share.<a href="#linknote-48" name="linknoteref-48" - id="linknoteref-48">[48]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> - Chapter 1.2.VII.<br/> - Contrat Social. - </h3> - - <p> - In such succession of singular prismatic tints, flush after flush - suffusing our horizon, does the Era of Hope dawn on towards fulfilment. - Questionable! As indeed, with an Era of Hope that rests on mere universal - Benevolence, victorious Analysis, Vice cured of its deformity; and, in - the long run, on Twenty-five dark savage Millions, looking up, in hunger - and weariness, to that <i>Ecce-signum</i> of theirs “forty feet - high,”—how could it but be questionable? - </p> - - <p> - Through all time, if we read aright, sin was, is, will be, the parent of - misery. This land calls itself most Christian, and has crosses and - cathedrals; but its High-priest is some Roche-Aymon, some - Necklace-Cardinal Louis de Rohan. The voice of the poor, through long - years, ascends inarticulate, in <i>Jacqueries</i>, meal-mobs; - low-whimpering of infinite moan: unheeded of the Earth; not unheeded of - Heaven. Always moreover where the Millions are wretched, there are the - Thousands straitened, unhappy; only the Units can flourish; or say - rather, be ruined the last. Industry, all noosed and haltered, as if it - too were some beast of chase for the mighty hunters of this world to - bait, and cut slices from,—cries passionately to these its - well-paid guides and watchers, not, <i>Guide me;</i> but, <i>Laissez - faire,</i> Leave me alone of <i>your</i> guidance! What market has - Industry in this France? For two things there may be market and demand: - for the coarser kind of field-fruits, since the Millions will live: for - the fine kinds of luxury and spicery,—of multiform taste, from - opera-melodies down to racers and courtesans; since the Units will be - amused. It is at bottom but a mad state of things. - </p> - - <p> - To mend and remake all which we have, indeed, victorious Analysis. Honour - to victorious Analysis; nevertheless, out of the Workshop and Laboratory, - what thing was victorious Analysis yet known to make? Detection of - incoherences, mainly; destruction of the incoherent. From of old, Doubt - was but half a magician; she evokes the spectres which she cannot quell. - We shall have “endless vortices of froth-logic;” whereon first words, and - then things, are whirled and swallowed. Remark, accordingly, as - acknowledged grounds of Hope, at bottom mere precursors of Despair, this - perpetual theorising about Man, the Mind of Man, Philosophy of - Government, Progress of the Species and such-like; the main thinking - furniture of every head. Time, and so many Montesquieus, Mablys, - spokesmen of Time, have discovered innumerable things: and now has not - Jean Jacques promulgated his new Evangel of a <i>Contrat Social;</i> - explaining the whole mystery of Government, and how it is - <i>contracted</i> and bargained for,—to universal satisfaction? - Theories of Government! Such have been, and will be; in ages of - decadence. Acknowledge them in their degree; as processes of Nature, who - does nothing in vain; as steps in her great process. Meanwhile, what - theory is so certain as this, That all theories, were they never so - earnest, painfully elaborated, are, and, by the very conditions of them, - must be incomplete, questionable, and even false? Thou shalt know that - this Universe is, what it professes to be, an <i>infinite</i> one. - Attempt not to swallow <i>it</i>, for thy logical digestion; be thankful, - if skilfully planting down this and the other fixed pillar in the chaos, - thou prevent its swallowing <i>thee</i>. That a new young generation has - exchanged the Sceptic Creed, <i>What shall I believe?</i> for passionate - Faith in this Gospel according to Jean Jacques is a further step in the - business; and betokens much. - </p> - - <p> - Blessed also is Hope; and always from the beginning there was some - Millennium prophesied; Millennium of Holiness; but (what is notable) - never till this new Era, any Millennium of mere Ease and plentiful - Supply. In such prophesied Lubberland, of Happiness, Benevolence, and - Vice cured of its deformity, trust not, my friends! Man is not what one - calls a happy animal; his appetite for sweet victual is so enormous. How, - in this wild Universe, which storms in on him, infinite, vague-menacing, - shall poor man find, say not happiness, but existence, and footing to - stand on, if it be not by girding himself together for continual - endeavour and endurance? Woe, if in his heart there dwelt no devout - Faith; if the word Duty had lost its meaning for him! For as to this of - Sentimentalism, so useful for weeping with over romances and on pathetic - occasions, it otherwise verily will avail nothing; nay less. The healthy - heart that said to itself, “How healthy am I!” was already fallen into - the fatalest sort of disease. Is not Sentimentalism twin-sister to Cant, - if not one and the same with it? Is not Cant the <i>materia prima</i> of - the Devil; from which all falsehoods, imbecilities, abominations body - themselves; from which no true thing <i>can</i> come? For Cant is itself - properly a double-distilled Lie; the second-power of a Lie. - </p> - - <p> - And now if a whole Nation fall into that? In such case, I answer, - infallibly they will return out of it! For life is no cunningly-devised - deception or self-deception: it is a great truth that thou art alive, - that thou hast desires, necessities; neither can these subsist and - satisfy themselves on delusions, but on fact. To fact, depend on it, we - shall come back: to such fact, blessed or cursed, as we have wisdom for. - The lowest, least blessed fact one knows of, on which necessitous mortals - have ever based themselves, seems to be the primitive one of Cannibalism: - That <i>I</i> can devour <i>Thee</i>. What if such Primitive Fact were - precisely the one we had (with our improved methods) to revert to, and - begin anew from! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> - Chapter 1.2.VIII.<br/> - Printed Paper. - </h3> - - <p> - In such a practical France, let the theory of Perfectibility say what it - will, discontents cannot be wanting: your promised Reformation is so - indispensable; yet it comes not; who will begin it—with himself? - Discontent with what is around us, still more with what is above us, goes - on increasing; seeking ever new vents. - </p> - - <p> - Of Street Ballads, of Epigrams that from of old tempered Despotism, we - need not speak. Nor of Manuscript Newspapers (<i>Nouvelles à la main</i>) - do we speak. Bachaumont and his journeymen and followers may close those - “thirty volumes of scurrilous eaves-dropping,” and quit that trade; for - at length if not liberty of the Press, there is license. Pamphlets can be - surreptititiously vended and read in Paris, did they even bear to be - “Printed at Pekin.” We have a <i>Courrier de l’Europe</i> in those years, - regularly published at London; by a De Morande, whom the guillotine has - not yet devoured. There too an unruly Linguet, still unguillotined, when - his own country has become too hot for him, and his brother Advocates - have cast him out, can emit his hoarse wailings, and <i>Bastille - Dévoilée</i> (Bastille unveiled). Loquacious Abbé Raynal, at length, has - his wish; sees the <i>Histoire Philosophique,</i> with its “lubricity,” - unveracity, loose loud eleutheromaniac rant (contributed, they say, by - Philosophedom at large, though in the Abbé’s name, and to his glory), - burnt by the common hangman;—and sets out on his travels as a - martyr. It was the edition of 1781; perhaps the last notable book that - had such fire-beatitude,—the hangman discovering now that it did - not serve. - </p> - - <p> - Again, in Courts of Law, with their money-quarrels, divorce-cases, - wheresoever a glimpse into the household existence can be had, what - indications! The Parlements of Besancon and Aix ring, audible to all - France, with the amours and destinies of a young Mirabeau. He, under the - nurture of a “Friend of Men,” has, in State Prisons, in marching - Regiments, Dutch Authors” garrets, and quite other scenes, “been for - twenty years learning to resist despotism:” despotism of men, and alas - also of gods. How, beneath this rose-coloured veil of Universal - Benevolence and <i>Astræa Redux</i>, is the sanctuary of Home so often a - dreary void, or a dark contentious Hell-on-Earth! The old Friend of Men - has his own divorce case too; and at times, “his whole family but one” - under lock and key: he writes much about reforming and enfranchising the - world; and for his own private behoof he has needed sixty - <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i>. A man of insight too, with resolution, even - with manful principle: but in such an element, inward and outward; which - he could not rule, but only madden. Edacity, rapacity;—quite - contrary to the finer sensibilities of the heart! Fools, that expect your - verdant Millennium, and nothing but Love and Abundance, brooks running - wine, winds whispering music,—with the whole ground and basis of - your existence champed into a mud of Sensuality; which, daily growing - deeper, will soon have no bottom but the Abyss! - </p> - - <p> - Or consider that unutterable business of the Diamond Necklace. Red-hatted - Cardinal Louis de Rohan; Sicilian jail-bird Balsamo Cagliostro; milliner - Dame de Lamotte, “with a face of some piquancy:” the highest Church - Dignitaries waltzing, in Walpurgis Dance, with quack-prophets, pickpurses - and public women;—a whole Satan’s Invisible World displayed; - working there continually under the daylight visible one; the smoke of - its torment going up for ever! The Throne has been brought into - scandalous collision with the Treadmill. Astonished Europe rings with the - mystery for ten months; sees only lie unfold itself from lie; corruption - among the lofty and the low, gulosity, credulity, imbecility, strength - nowhere but in the hunger. Weep, fair Queen, thy first tears of unmixed - wretchedness! Thy fair name has been tarnished by foul breath; - irremediably while life lasts. No more shalt thou be loved and pitied by - living hearts, till a new generation has been born, and thy own heart - lies cold, cured of all its sorrows.—The Epigrams henceforth - become, not sharp and bitter; but cruel, atrocious, unmentionable. On - that 31st of May, 1786, a miserable Cardinal Grand-Almoner Rohan, on - issuing from his Bastille, is escorted by hurrahing crowds: unloved he, - and worthy of no love; but important since the Court and Queen are his - enemies.<a href="#linknote-49" name="linknoteref-49" - id="linknoteref-49">[49]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - How is our bright Era of Hope dimmed: and the whole sky growing bleak - with signs of hurricane and earthquake! It is a doomed world: gone all - “obedience that made men free;” fast going the obedience that made men - slaves,—at least to one another. Slaves only of their own lusts - they now are, and will be. Slaves of sin; inevitably also of sorrow. - Behold the mouldering mass of Sensuality and Falsehood; round which plays - foolishly, itself a corrupt phosphorescence, some glimmer of - Sentimentalism;—and over all, rising, as Ark of <i>their</i> - Covenant, the grim Patibulary Fork “forty feet high;” which also is now - nigh rotted. Add only that the French Nation distinguishes itself among - Nations by the characteristic of Excitability; with the good, but also - with the perilous evil, which belongs to that. Rebellion, explosion, of - unknown extent is to be calculated on. There are, as Chesterfield wrote, - “all the symptoms I have ever met with in History!” - </p> - - <p> - Shall we say, then: Wo to Philosophism, that it destroyed Religion, what - it called “extinguishing the abomination (<i>écraser l’infâme</i>)”? Wo - rather to those that made the Holy an abomination, and extinguishable; wo - at all men that live in such a time of world-abomination and - world-destruction! Nay, answer the Courtiers, it was Turgot, it was - Necker, with their mad innovating; it was the Queen’s want of etiquette; - it was he, it was she, it was that. Friends! it was every scoundrel that - had lived, and quack-like pretended to be doing, and been only eating and - <i>mis</i>doing, in all provinces of life, as Shoeblack or as Sovereign - Lord, each in his degree, from the time of Charlemagne and earlier. All - this (for be sure no falsehood perishes, but is as seed sown out to grow) - has been storing itself for thousands of years; and now the account-day - has come. And rude will the settlement be: of wrath laid up against the - day of wrath. O my Brother, be not thou a Quack! Die rather, if thou wilt - take counsel; ’tis but dying once, and thou art quit of it for ever. - Cursed is that trade; and bears curses, thou knowest not how, long ages - after thou art departed, and the wages thou hadst are all consumed; nay, - as the ancient wise have written,—through Eternity itself, and is - verily marked in the Doom-Book of a God! - </p> - - <p> - Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. And yet, as we said, Hope is but - deferred; not abolished, not abolishable. It is very notable, and - touching, how this same Hope does still light onwards the French Nation - through all its wild destinies. For we shall still find Hope shining, be - it for fond invitation, be it for anger and menace; as a mild heavenly - light it shone; as a red conflagration it shines: burning sulphurous - blue, through darkest regions of Terror, it still shines; and goes sent - out at all, since Desperation itself is a kind of Hope. Thus is our Era - still to be named of Hope, though in the saddest sense,—when there - is nothing left but Hope. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But if any one would know summarily what a Pandora’s Box lies there for - the opening, he may see it in what by its nature is the symptom of all - symptoms, the surviving Literature of the Period. Abbé Raynal, with his - lubricity and loud loose rant, has spoken <i>his</i> word; and already - the fast-hastening generation responds to another. Glance at - Beaumarchais’ <i>Mariage de Figaro;</i> which now (in 1784), after - difficulty enough, has issued on the stage; and “runs its hundred - nights,” to the admiration of all men. By what virtue or internal vigour - it so ran, the reader of our day will rather wonder:—and indeed - will know so much the better that it flattered some pruriency of the - time; that it spoke what all were feeling, and longing to speak. Small - substance in that <i>Figaro:</i> thin wiredrawn intrigues, thin wiredrawn - sentiments and sarcasms; a thing lean, barren; yet which winds and whisks - itself, as through a wholly mad universe, adroitly, with a high-sniffing - air: wherein each, as was hinted, which is the grand secret, may see some - image of himself, and of his own state and ways. So it runs its hundred - nights, and all France runs with it; laughing applause. If the - soliloquising Barber ask: ‘What has your Lordship done to earn all this?’ - and can only answer: ‘You took the trouble to be born (<i>Vous vous êtes - donné la peine de naître</i>),’ all men must laugh: and a gay - horse-racing Anglomaniac Noblesse loudest of all. For how can small books - have a great danger in them? asks the Sieur Caron; and fancies his thin - epigram may be a kind of reason. Conqueror of a golden fleece, by giant - smuggling; tamer of hell-dogs, in the Parlement Maupeou; and finally - crowned Orpheus in the <i>Théâtre Français</i>, Beaumarchais has now - culminated, and unites the attributes of several demigods. We shall meet - him once again, in the course of his decline. - </p> - - <p> - Still more significant are two Books produced on the eve of the - ever-memorable Explosion itself, and read eagerly by all the world: - Saint-Pierre’s <i>Paul et Virginie</i>, and Louvet’s <i>Chevalier de - Faublas</i>. Noteworthy Books; which may be considered as the last speech - of old Feudal France. In the first there rises melodiously, as it were, - the wail of a moribund world: everywhere wholesome Nature in unequal - conflict with diseased perfidious Art; cannot escape from it in the - lowest hut, in the remotest island of the sea. Ruin and death must strike - down the loved one; and, what is most significant of all, death even here - not by necessity, but by etiquette. What a world of prurient corruption - lies visible in that super-sublime of modesty! Yet, on the whole, our - good Saint-Pierre is musical, poetical though most morbid: we will call - his Book the swan-song of old dying France. - </p> - - <p> - Louvet’s again, let no man account musical. Truly, if this wretched - <i>Faublas</i> is a death-speech, it is one under the gallows, and by a - felon that does not repent. Wretched <i>cloaca</i> of a Book; without - depth even as a cloaca! What “picture of French society” is here? Picture - properly of nothing, if not of the mind that gave it out as some sort of - picture. Yet symptom of much; above all, of the world that could nourish - itself thereon. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"></a> - BOOK 1.III.<br/> - THE PARLEMENT OF PARIS - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> - Chapter 1.3.I.<br/> - Dishonoured Bills. - </h3> - - <p> - While the unspeakable confusion is everywhere weltering within, and - through so many cracks in the surface sulphur-smoke is issuing, the - question arises: Through what crevice will the main Explosion carry - itself? Through which of the old craters or chimneys; or must it, at - once, form a new crater for itself? In every Society are such chimneys, - are Institutions serving as such: even Constantinople is not without its - safety-valves; there too Discontent can vent itself,—in material - fire; by the number of nocturnal conflagrations, or of hanged bakers, the - Reigning Power can read the signs of the times, and change course - according to these. - </p> - - <p> - We may say that this French Explosion will doubtless first try all the - old Institutions of escape; for by each of these there is, or at least - there used to be, some communication with the interior deep; they are - national Institutions in virtue of that. Had they even become personal - Institutions, and what we can call choked up from their original uses, - there nevertheless must the impediment be weaker than elsewhere. Through - which of them then? An observer might have guessed: Through the Law - Parlements; above all, through the Parlement of Paris. - </p> - - <p> - Men, though never so thickly clad in dignities, sit not inaccessible to - the influences of their time; especially men whose life is business; who - at all turns, were it even from behind judgment-seats, have come in - contact with the actual workings of the world. The Counsellor of - Parlement, the President himself, who has bought his place with hard - money that he might be looked up to by his fellow-creatures, how shall - he, in all Philosophe-soirées, and saloons of elegant culture, become - notable as a Friend of Darkness? Among the Paris Long-robes there may be - more than one patriotic Malesherbes, whose rule is conscience and the - public good; there are clearly more than one hotheaded D’Espréménil, to - whose confused thought any loud reputation of the Brutus sort may seem - glorious. The Lepelletiers, Lamoignons have titles and wealth; yet, at - Court, are only styled “Noblesse of the Robe.” There are Duports of deep - scheme; Fréteaus, Sabatiers, of incontinent tongue: all nursed more or - less on the milk of the <i>Contrat Social</i>. Nay, for the whole Body, - is not this patriotic opposition also a fighting for oneself? Awake, - Parlement of Paris, renew thy long warfare! Was not the Parlement Maupeou - abolished with ignominy? Not now hast thou to dread a Louis XIV., with - the crack of his whip, and his Olympian looks; not now a Richelieu and - Bastilles: no, the whole Nation is behind thee. Thou too (O heavens!) - mayest become a Political Power; and with the shakings of thy horse-hair - wig shake principalities and dynasties, like a very Jove with his - ambrosial curls! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Light old M. de Maurepas, since the end of 1781, has been fixed in the - frost of death: ‘Never more,’ said the good Louis, ‘shall I hear his step - overhead;’ his light jestings and gyratings are at an end. No more can - the importunate reality be hidden by pleasant wit, and today’s evil be - deftly rolled over upon tomorrow. The morrow itself has arrived; and now - nothing but a solid phlegmatic M. de Vergennes sits there, in dull matter - of fact, like some dull punctual Clerk (which he originally was); admits - what cannot be denied, let the remedy come whence it will. In him is no - remedy; only clerklike “despatch of business” according to routine. The - poor King, grown older yet hardly more experienced, must himself, with - such no-faculty as he has, begin governing; wherein also his Queen will - give help. Bright Queen, with her quick clear glances and impulses; - clear, and even noble; but all too superficial, vehement-shallow, for - that work! To govern France were such a problem; and now it has grown - well-nigh too hard to govern even the Œil-de-Bœuf. For if a distressed - People has its cry, so likewise, and more audibly, has a bereaved Court. - To the Œil-de-Bœuf it remains inconceivable how, in a France of such - resources, the Horn of Plenty should run dry: did it not <i>use</i> to - flow? Nevertheless Necker, with his revenue of parsimony, has “suppressed - above six hundred places,” before the Courtiers could oust him; - parsimonious finance-pedant as he was. Again, a military pedant, - Saint-Germain, with his Prussian manœuvres; with his Prussian notions, as - if merit and not coat-of-arms should be the rule of promotion, has - disaffected military men; the Mousquetaires, with much else are - suppressed: for he too was one of your suppressors; and unsettling and - oversetting, did mere mischief—to the Œil-de-Bœuf. Complaints - abound; scarcity, anxiety: it is a changed Œil-de-Bœuf. Besenval says, - already in these years (1781) there was such a melancholy (such a - <i>tristesse</i>) about Court, compared with former days, as made it - quite dispiriting to look upon. - </p> - - <p> - No wonder that the Œil-de-Bœuf feels melancholy, when you are suppressing - its places! Not a place can be suppressed, but some purse is the lighter - for it; and more than one heart the heavier; for did it not employ the - working-classes too,—manufacturers, male and female, of laces, - essences; of Pleasure generally, whosoever could manufacture Pleasure? - Miserable economies; never felt over Twenty-five Millions! So, however, - it goes on: and is not yet ended. Few years more and the Wolf-hounds - shall fall suppressed, the Bear-hounds, the Falconry; places shall fall, - thick as autumnal leaves. Duke de Polignac demonstrates, to the complete - silencing of ministerial logic, that his place cannot be abolished; then - gallantly, turning to the Queen, surrenders it, since her Majesty so - wishes. Less chivalrous was Duke de Coigny, and yet not luckier: ‘We got - into a real quarrel, Coigny and I,’ said King Louis; ‘but if he had even - struck me, I could not have blamed him.’<a href="#linknote-50" - name="linknoteref-50" id="linknoteref-50">[50]</a> In regard to such - matters there can be but one opinion. Baron Besenval, with that frankness - of speech which stamps the independent man, plainly assures her Majesty - that it is frightful (<i>affreux</i>); ‘you go to bed, and are not sure - but you shall rise impoverished on the morrow: one might as well be in - Turkey.’ It is indeed a dog’s life. - </p> - - <p> - How singular this perpetual distress of the royal treasury! And yet it is - a thing not more incredible than undeniable. A thing mournfully true: the - stumbling-block on which all Ministers successively stumble, and fall. Be - it “want of fiscal genius,” or some far other want, there is the - palpablest discrepancy between Revenue and Expenditure; a <i>Deficit</i> - of the Revenue: you must “choke (<i>combler</i>) the Deficit,” or else it - will swallow you! This is the stern problem; hopeless seemingly as - squaring of the circle. Controller Joly de Fleury, who succeeded Necker, - could do nothing with it; nothing but propose loans, which were tardily - filled up; impose new taxes, unproductive of money, productive of clamour - and discontent. As little could Controller d’Ormesson do, or even less; - for if Joly maintained himself beyond year and day, d’Ormesson reckons - only by months: till “the King purchased Rambouillet without consulting - him,” which he took as a hint to withdraw. And so, towards the end of - 1783, matters threaten to come to still-stand. Vain seems human - ingenuity. In vain has our newly-devised “Council of Finances” struggled, - our Intendants of Finance, Controller-General of Finances: there are - unhappily no Finances to control. Fatal paralysis invades the social - movement; clouds, of blindness or of blackness, envelop us: are we - breaking down, then, into the black horrors of NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY? - </p> - - <p> - Great is Bankruptcy: the great bottomless gulf into which all Falsehoods, - public and private, do sink, disappearing; whither, from the first origin - of them, they were all doomed. For Nature is true and not a lie. No lie - you can speak or act but it will come, after longer or shorter - circulation, like a Bill drawn on Nature’s Reality, and be presented - there for payment,—with the answer, <i>No effects</i>. Pity only - that it often had so long a circulation: that the original forger were so - seldom he who bore the final smart of it! Lies, and the burden of evil - they bring, are passed on; shifted from back to back, and from rank to - rank; and so land ultimately on the dumb lowest rank, who with spade and - mattock, with sore heart and empty wallet, daily come in <i>contact</i> - with reality, and can pass the cheat no further. - </p> - - <p> - Observe nevertheless how, by a just compensating law, if the lie with its - burden (in this confused whirlpool of Society) sinks and is shifted ever - downwards, then in return the distress of it rises ever upwards and - upwards. Whereby, after the long pining and demi-starvation of those - Twenty Millions, a Duke de Coigny and his Majesty come also to have their - “real quarrel.” Such is the law of just Nature; bringing, though at long - intervals, and were it only by Bankruptcy, matters round again to the - mark. - </p> - - <p> - But with a Fortunatus’ Purse in his pocket, through what length of time - might not almost any Falsehood last! Your Society, your Household, - practical or spiritual Arrangement, is untrue, unjust, offensive to the - eye of God and man. Nevertheless its hearth is warm, its larder well - replenished: the innumerable Swiss of Heaven, with a kind of Natural - loyalty, gather round it; will prove, by pamphleteering, musketeering, - that it is a truth; or if not an unmixed (unearthly, impossible) Truth, - then better, a wholesomely attempered one, (as wind is to the shorn - lamb), and works well. Changed outlook, however, when purse and larder - grow empty! Was your Arrangement so true, so accordant to Nature’s ways, - then how, in the name of wonder, has Nature, with her infinite bounty, - come to leave it famishing there? To all men, to all women and all - children, it is now indutiable that your Arrangement was <i>false</i>. - Honour to Bankruptcy; ever righteous on the great scale, though in detail - it is so cruel! Under all Falsehoods it works, unweariedly mining. No - Falsehood, did it rise heaven-high and cover the world, but Bankruptcy, - one day, will sweep it down, and make us free of it. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> - Chapter 1.3.II.<br/> - Controller Calonne. - </h3> - - <p> - Under such circumstances of <i>tristesse</i>, obstruction and sick - langour, when to an exasperated Court it seems as if fiscal genius had - departed from among men, what apparition could be welcomer than that of - M. de Calonne? Calonne, a man of indisputable genius; even fiscal genius, - more or less; of experience both in managing Finance and Parlements, for - he has been Intendant at Metz, at Lille; King’s Procureur at Douai. A man - of weight, connected with the moneyed classes; of unstained - name,—if it were not some peccadillo (of showing a Client’s Letter) - in that old D’Aiguillon-Lachalotais business, as good as forgotten now. - He has kinsmen of heavy purse, felt on the Stock Exchange. Our Foulons, - Berthiers intrigue for him:—old Foulon, who has now nothing to do - but intrigue; who is known and even seen to be what they call a - scoundrel; but of unmeasured wealth; who, from Commissariat-clerk which - he once was, may hope, some think, if the game go right, to be Minister - himself one day. - </p> - - <p> - Such propping and backing has M. de Calonne; and then intrinsically such - qualities! Hope radiates from his face; persuasion hangs on his tongue. - For all straits he has present remedy, and will make the world roll on - wheels before him. On the 3d of November 1783, the Œil-de-Bœuf rejoices - in its new Controller-General. Calonne also shall have trial; Calonne - also, in his way, as Turgot and Necker had done in theirs, shall forward - the consummation; suffuse, with one other flush of brilliancy, our now - too leaden-coloured Era of Hope, and wind it up—into fulfilment. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Great, in any case, is the felicity of the Œil-de-Bœuf. Stinginess has - fled from these royal abodes: suppression ceases; your Besenval may go - peaceably to sleep, sure that he shall awake unplundered. Smiling Plenty, - as if conjured by some enchanter, has returned; scatters contentment from - her new-flowing horn. And mark what suavity of manners! A bland smile - distinguishes our Controller: to all men he listens with an air of - interest, nay of anticipation; makes their own wish clear to themselves, - and grants it; or at least, grants conditional promise of it. ‘I fear - this is a matter of difficulty,’ said her Majesty.—‘Madame,’ - answered the Controller, ‘if it is but difficult, it is done, if it is - impossible, it shall be done (<i>se fera</i>).’ A man of such “facility” - withal. To observe him in the pleasure-vortex of society, which none - partakes of with more gusto, you might ask, When does he work? And yet - his work, as we see, is never behindhand; above all, the fruit of his - work: ready-money. Truly a man of incredible facility; facile action, - facile elocution, facile thought: how, in mild suasion, philosophic depth - sparkles up from him, as mere wit and lambent sprightliness; and in her - Majesty’s Soirees, with the weight of a world lying on him, he is the - delight of men and women! By what magic does he accomplish miracles? By - the only true magic, that of genius. Men name him “<i>the</i> Minister;” - as indeed, when was there another such? Crooked things are become - straight by him, rough places plain; and over the Œil-de-Bœuf there rests - an unspeakable sunshine. - </p> - - <p> - Nay, in seriousness, let no man say that Calonne had not genius: genius - for Persuading; before all things, for Borrowing. With the skilfulest - judicious appliances of underhand money, he keeps the Stock-Exchanges - flourishing; so that Loan after Loan is filled up as soon as opened. - “Calculators likely to know”<a href="#linknote-51" name="linknoteref-51" - id="linknoteref-51">[51]</a> have calculated that he spent, in - extraordinaries, “at the rate of one million daily;” which indeed is some - fifty thousand pounds sterling: but did he not procure something with it; - namely peace and prosperity, for the time being? Philosophedom grumbles - and croaks; buys, as we said, 80,000 copies of Necker’s new Book: but - Nonpareil Calonne, in her Majesty’s Apartment, with the glittering - retinue of Dukes, Duchesses, and mere happy admiring faces, can let - Necker and Philosophedom croak. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The misery is, such a time cannot last! Squandering, and Payment by Loan - is no way to choke a Deficit. Neither is oil the substance for quenching - conflagrations;—but, only for assuaging them, <i>not</i> - permanently! To the Nonpareil himself, who wanted not insight, it is - clear at intervals, and dimly certain at all times, that his trade is by - nature temporary, growing daily more difficult; that changes incalculable - lie at no great distance. Apart from financial Deficit, the world is - wholly in such a new-fangled humour; all things working loose from their - old fastenings, towards new issues and combinations. There is not a dwarf - <i>jokei</i>, a cropt Brutus’-head, or Anglomaniac horseman rising on his - stirrups, that does not betoken change. But what then? The day, in any - case, passes pleasantly; for the morrow, if the morrow come, there shall - be counsel too. Once mounted (by munificence, suasion, magic of genius) - high enough in favour with the Œil-de-Bœuf, with the King, Queen, - Stock-Exchange, and so far as possible with all men, a Nonpareil - Controller may hope to go careering through the Inevitable, in some - unimagined way, as handsomely as another. - </p> - - <p> - At all events, for these three miraculous years, it has been expedient - heaped on expedient; till now, with such cumulation and height, the pile - topples perilous. And here has this world’s-wonder of a Diamond Necklace - brought it at last to the clear verge of tumbling. Genius in that - direction can no more: mounted high enough, or not mounted, we must fare - forth. Hardly is poor Rohan, the Necklace-Cardinal, safely bestowed in - the Auvergne Mountains, Dame de Lamotte (unsafely) in the Salpêtrière, - and that mournful business hushed up, when our sanguine Controller once - more astonishes the world. An expedient, unheard of for these hundred and - sixty years, has been propounded; and, by dint of suasion (for his light - audacity, his hope and eloquence are matchless) has been got - adopted,—<i>Convocation of the Notables.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Let notable persons, the actual or virtual rulers of their districts, be - summoned from all sides of France: let a true tale, of his Majesty’s - patriotic purposes and wretched pecuniary impossibilities, be suasively - told them; and then the question put: What are we to do? Surely to adopt - healing measures; such as the magic of genius will unfold; such as, once - sanctioned by Notables, all Parlements and all men must, with more or - less reluctance, submit to. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> - Chapter 1.3.III.<br/> - The Notables. - </h3> - - <p> - Here, then is verily a sign and wonder; visible to the whole world; - bodeful of much. The Œil-de-Bœuf dolorously grumbles; were we not well as - we stood,—quenching conflagrations by oil? Constitutional - Philosophedom starts with joyful surprise; stares eagerly what the result - will be. The public creditor, the public debtor, the whole thinking and - thoughtless public have their several surprises, joyful and sorrowful. - Count Mirabeau, who has got his matrimonial and other Lawsuits huddled - up, better or worse; and works now in the dimmest element at Berlin; - compiling <i>Prussian Monarchies</i>, Pamphlets <i>On Cagliostro;</i> - writing, with pay, but not with honourable recognition, innumerable - Despatches for his Government,—scents or descries richer quarry - from afar. He, like an eagle or vulture, or mixture of both, preens his - wings for flight homewards.<a href="#linknote-502" name="linknoteref-52" - id="linknoteref-52">[52]</a> - </p> - - <p> - M. de Calonne has stretched out an Aaron’s Rod over France; miraculous; - and is summoning quite unexpected things. Audacity and hope alternate in - him with misgivings; though the sanguine-valiant side carries it. Anon he - writes to an intimate friend, ‘<i>Je me fais pitié à moi-même</i> (I am - an object of pity to myself);’ anon, invites some dedicating Poet or - Poetaster to sing “this Assembly of the Notables and the Revolution that - is preparing.”<a href="#linknote-53" name="linknoteref-53" - id="linknoteref-53">[53]</a> Preparing indeed; and a matter to be - sung,—only not till we have <i>seen</i> it, and what the issue of - it is. In deep obscure unrest, all things have so long gone rocking and - swaying: will M. de Calonne, with this his alchemy of the Notables, - fasten all together again, and get new revenues? Or wrench all asunder; - so that it go no longer rocking and swaying, but clashing and colliding? - </p> - - <p> - Be this as it may, in the bleak short days, we behold men of weight and - influence threading the great vortex of French Locomotion, each on his - several line, from all sides of France towards the Château of Versailles: - summoned thither <i>de par le roi</i>. There, on the 22d day of February - 1787, they have met, and got installed: Notables to the number of a - Hundred and Thirty-seven, as we count them name by name:<a - href="#linknote-54" name="linknoteref-54" id="linknoteref-54">[54]</a> - add Seven Princes of the Blood, it makes the round Gross of Notables. Men - of the sword, men of the robe; Peers, dignified Clergy, Parlementary - Presidents: divided into Seven Boards (<i>Bureaux</i>); under our Seven - Princes of the Blood, Monsieur, D’Artois, Penthievre, and the rest; among - whom let not our new Duke d’Orléans (for, since 1785, he is Chartres no - longer) be forgotten. Never yet made Admiral, and now turning the corner - of his fortieth year, with spoiled blood and prospects; half-weary of a - world which is more than half-weary of him, Monseigneur’s future is most - questionable. Not in illumination and insight, not even in conflagration; - but, as was said, “in dull smoke and ashes of outburnt sensualities,” - does he live and digest. Sumptuosity and sordidness; revenge, - life-weariness, ambition, darkness, putrescence; and, say, in sterling - money, three hundred thousand a year,—were this poor Prince once to - burst loose from his Court-moorings, to what regions, with what - phenomena, might he not sail and drift! Happily as yet he “affects to - hunt daily;” sits there, since he must sit, presiding that Bureau of his, - with dull moon-visage, dull glassy eyes, as if it were a mere tedium to - him. - </p> - - <p> - We observe finally, that Count Mirabeau has actually arrived. He descends - from Berlin, on the scene of action; glares into it with flashing - sun-glance; discerns that it will do nothing for him. He had hoped these - Notables might need a Secretary. They do need one; but have fixed on - Dupont de Nemours; a man of smaller fame, but then of better;—who - indeed, as his friends often hear, labours under this complaint, surely - not a universal one, of having “five kings to correspond with.”<a - href="#linknote-55" name="linknoteref-55" id="linknoteref-55">[55]</a> - The pen of a Mirabeau cannot become an official one; nevertheless it - remains a pen. In defect of Secretaryship, he sets to denouncing - Stock-brokerage (<i>Dénonciation de l’Agiotage</i>); testifying, as his - wont is, by loud bruit, that he is present and busy;—till, warned - by friend Talleyrand, and even by Calonne himself underhand, that “a - seventeenth <i>Lettre-de-Cachet</i> may be launched against him,” he - timefully flits over the marches. - </p> - - <p> - And now, in stately royal apartments, as Pictures of that time still - represent them, our hundred and forty-four Notables sit organised; ready - to hear and consider. Controller Calonne is dreadfully behindhand with - his speeches, his preparatives; however, the man’s “facility of work” is - known to us. For freshness of style, lucidity, ingenuity, largeness of - view, that opening Harangue of his was unsurpassable:—had not the - subject-matter been so appalling. A Deficit, concerning which accounts - vary, and the Controller’s own account is not unquestioned; but which all - accounts agree in representing as “enormous.” This is the epitome of our - Controller’s difficulties: and then his means? Mere Turgotism; for - thither, it seems, we must come at last: Provincial Assemblies; new - Taxation; nay, strangest of all, new Land-tax, what he calls - <i>Subvention Territoriale</i>, from which neither Privileged nor - Unprivileged, Noblemen, Clergy, nor Parlementeers, shall be exempt! - </p> - - <p> - Foolish enough! These Privileged Classes have been used to tax; levying - toll, tribute and custom, at all hands, while a penny was left: but to be - themselves taxed? Of such Privileged persons, meanwhile, do these - Notables, all but the merest fraction, consist. Headlong Calonne had - given no heed to the “composition,” or judicious packing of them; but - chosen such Notables as were really notable; trusting for the issue to - off-hand ingenuity, good fortune, and eloquence that never yet failed. - Headlong Controller-General! Eloquence can do much, but not all. Orpheus, - with eloquence grown rhythmic, musical (what we call Poetry), drew iron - tears from the cheek of Pluto: but by what witchery of rhyme or prose - wilt thou from the pocket of Plutus draw gold? - </p> - - <p> - Accordingly, the storm that now rose and began to whistle round Calonne, - first in these Seven Bureaus, and then on the outside of them, awakened - by them, spreading wider and wider over all France, threatens to become - unappeasable. A Deficit so enormous! Mismanagement, profusion is too - clear. Peculation itself is hinted at; nay, Lafayette and others go so - far as to speak it out, with attempts at proof. The blame of his Deficit - our brave Calonne, as was natural, had endeavoured to shift from himself - on his predecessors; not excepting even Necker. But now Necker vehemently - denies; whereupon an “angry Correspondence,” which also finds its way - into print. - </p> - - <p> - In the Œil-de-Bœuf, and her Majesty’s private Apartments, an eloquent - Controller, with his ‘Madame, if it is but difficult,’ had been - persuasive: but, alas, the cause is now carried elsewhither. Behold him, - one of these sad days, in Monsieur’s Bureau; to which all the other - Bureaus have sent deputies. He is standing at bay: alone; exposed to an - incessant fire of questions, interpellations, objurgations, from those - “hundred and thirty-seven” pieces of logic-ordnance,—what we may - well call <i>bouches à feu</i>, fire-mouths literally! Never, according - to Besenval, or hardly ever, had such display of intellect, dexterity, - coolness, suasive eloquence, been made by man. To the raging play of so - many fire-mouths he opposes nothing angrier than light-beams, - self-possession and fatherly smiles. With the imperturbablest bland - clearness, he, for five hours long, keeps answering the incessant volley - of fiery captious questions, reproachful interpellations; in words prompt - as lightning, quiet as light. Nay, the cross-fire too: such side - questions and incidental interpellations as, in the heat of the - main-battle, he (having only one tongue) could not get answered; these - also he takes up at the first slake; answers even these.<a - href="#linknote-56" name="linknoteref-56" id="linknoteref-56">[56]</a> - Could blandest suasive eloquence have saved France, she were saved. - </p> - - <p> - Heavy-laden Controller! In the Seven Bureaus seems nothing but hindrance: - in Monsieur’s Bureau, a Loménie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, with - an eye himself to the Controllership, stirs up the Clergy; there are - meetings, underground intrigues. Neither from without anywhere comes sign - of help or hope. For the Nation (where Mirabeau is now, with - stentor-lungs, “denouncing Agio”) the Controller has hitherto done - nothing, or less. For Philosophedom he has done as good as - nothing,—sent out some scientific Lapérouse, or the like: and is he - not in “angry correspondence” with its Necker? The very Œil-de-Bœuf looks - questionable; a falling Controller has no friends. Solid M. de Vergennes, - who with his phlegmatic judicious punctuality might have kept down many - things, died the very week before these sorrowful Notables met. And now a - Seal-keeper, <i>Garde-des-Sceaux</i> Miroménil is thought to be playing - the traitor: spinning plots for Loménie-Brienne! Queen’s-Reader Abbé de - Vermond, unloved individual, was Brienne’s creature, the work of his - hands from the first: it may be feared the backstairs passage is open, - ground getting mined under our feet. Treacherous Garde-des-Sceaux - Miroménil, at least, should be dismissed; Lamoignon, the eloquent - Notable, a stanch man, with connections, and even ideas, - Parlement-President yet intent on reforming Parlements, were not he the - right Keeper? So, for one, thinks busy Besenval; and, at dinner-table, - rounds the same into the Controller’s ear,—who always, in the - intervals of landlord-duties, listens to him as with charmed look, but - answers nothing positive.<a href="#linknote-57" name="linknoteref-57" - id="linknoteref-57">[57]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Alas, what to answer? The force of private intrigue, and then also the - force of public opinion, grows so dangerous, confused! Philosophedom - sneers aloud, as if its Necker already triumphed. The gaping populace - gapes over Wood-cuts or Copper-cuts; where, for example, a Rustic is - represented convoking the poultry of his barnyard, with this opening - address: ‘Dear animals, I have assembled you to advise me what sauce I - shall dress you with;’ to which a Cock responding, ‘We don’t want to be - eaten,’ is checked by ‘You wander from the point (<i>Vous vous écartez de - la question</i>).’<a href="#linknote-58" name="linknoteref-58" - id="linknoteref-58">[58]</a> Laughter and logic; ballad-singer, - pamphleteer; epigram and caricature: what wind of public opinion is - this,—as if the Cave of the Winds were bursting loose! At - nightfall, President Lamoignon steals over to the Controller’s; finds him - “walking with large strides in his chamber, like one out of himself.”<a - href="#linknote-59" name="linknoteref-59" id="linknoteref-59">[59]</a> - With rapid confused speech the Controller begs M. de Lamoignon to give - him “an advice.” Lamoignon candidly answers that, except in regard to his - own anticipated Keepership, unless that would prove remedial, he really - cannot take upon him to advise. - </p> - - <p> - “On the Monday after Easter,” the 9th of April 1787, a date one rejoices - to verify, for nothing can excel the indolent falsehood of these - <i>Histoires and Mémoires</i>,—“On the Monday after Easter, as I, - Besenval, was riding towards Romainville to the Maréchal de Segur’s, I - met a friend on the Boulevards, who told me that M. de Calonne was out. A - little further on came M. the Duke d’Orléans, dashing towards me, head to - the wind” (trotting <i>à l’Anglaise</i>), “and confirmed the news.”<a - href="#linknote-60" name="linknoteref-60" id="linknoteref-60">[60]</a> It - is true news. Treacherous Garde-des-Sceaux Miroménil is gone, and - Lamoignon is appointed in his room: but appointed for his own profit - only, not for the Controller’s: “next day” the Controller also has had to - move. A little longer he may linger near; be seen among the money - changers, and even “working in the Controller’s office,” where much lies - unfinished: but neither will that hold. Too strong blows and beats this - tempest of public opinion, of private intrigue, as from the Cave of all - the Winds; and blows him (higher Authority giving sign) out of Paris and - France,—over the horizon, into Invisibility, or outer Darkness. - </p> - - <p> - Such destiny the magic of genius could not forever avert. Ungrateful - Œil-de-Bœuf! did he not miraculously rain gold manna on you; so that, as - a Courtier said, ‘All the world held out its hand, and I held out my - hat,’—for a time? Himself is poor; penniless, had not a - “Financier’s widow in Lorraine” offered him, though he was turned of - fifty, her hand and the rich purse it held. Dim henceforth shall be his - activity, though unwearied: Letters to the King, Appeals, - Prognostications; Pamphlets (from London), written with the old suasive - facility; which however do not persuade. Luckily his widow’s purse fails - not. Once, in a year or two, some shadow of him shall be seen hovering on - the Northern Border, seeking election as National Deputy; but be sternly - beckoned away. Dimmer then, far-borne over utmost European lands, in - uncertain twilight of diplomacy, he shall hover, intriguing for “Exiled - Princes,” and have adventures; be overset into the Rhine stream and - half-drowned, nevertheless save his papers dry. Unwearied, but in vain! - In France he works miracles no more; shall hardly return thither to find - a grave. Farewell, thou facile sanguine Controller-General, with thy - light rash hand, thy suasive mouth of gold: worse men there have been, - and better; but to thee also was allotted a task,—of raising the - wind, and the winds; and thou hast done it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But now, while Ex-Controller Calonne flies storm-driven over the horizon, - in this singular way, what has become of the Controllership? It hangs - vacant, one may say; extinct, like the Moon in her vacant interlunar - cave. Two preliminary shadows, poor M. Fourqueux, poor M. Villedeuil, do - hold in quick succession some simulacrum of it,<a href="#linknote-601" - name="linknoteref-61" id="linknoteref-61">[61]</a>—as the new Moon - will sometimes shine out with a dim preliminary old one in her arms. Be - patient, ye Notables! An actual new Controller is certain, and even - ready; were the indispensable manœuvres but gone through. Long-headed - Lamoignon, with Home Secretary Bréteuil, and Foreign Secretary Montmorin - have exchanged looks; let these three once meet and speak. Who is it that - is strong in the Queen’s favour, and the Abbé de Vermond’s? That is a man - of great capacity? Or at least that has struggled, these fifty years, to - have it thought great; now, in the Clergy’s name, demanding to have - Protestant death-penalties “put in execution;” no flaunting it in the - Œil-de-Bœuf, as the gayest man-pleaser and woman-pleaser; gleaning even a - good word from Philosophedom and your Voltaires and D’Alemberts? With a - party ready-made for him in the Notables?—Loménie de Brienne, - Archbishop of Toulouse! answer all the three, with the clearest - instantaneous concord; and rush off to propose him to the King; “in such - haste,” says Besenval, “that M. de Lamoignon had to borrow a - <i>simarre</i>,” seemingly some kind of cloth apparatus necessary for - that.<a href="#linknote-62" name="linknoteref-62" - id="linknoteref-62">[62]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Loménie-Brienne, who had all his life “felt a kind of predestination for - the highest offices,” has now therefore obtained them. He presides over - the Finances; he shall have the title of Prime Minister itself, and the - effort of his long life be realised. Unhappy only that it took such - talent and industry to <i>gain</i> the place; that to <i>qualify</i> for - it hardly any talent or industry was left disposable! Looking now into - his inner man, what qualification he may have, Loménie beholds, not - without astonishment, next to nothing but vacuity and possibility. - Principles or methods, acquirement outward or inward (for his very body - is wasted, by hard tear and wear) he finds none; not so much as a plan, - even an unwise one. Lucky, in these circumstances, that Calonne has had a - plan! Calonne’s plan was gathered from Turgot’s and Necker’s by - compilation; shall become Loménie’s by adoption. Not in vain has Loménie - studied the working of the British Constitution; for he professes to have - some Anglomania, of a sort. Why, in that free country, does one Minister, - driven out by Parliament, vanish from his King’s presence, and another - enter, borne in by Parliament?<a href="#linknote-63" - name="linknoteref-63" id="linknoteref-63">[63]</a> Surely not for mere - change (which is ever wasteful); but that all men may have share of what - is going; and so the strife of Freedom indefinitely prolong itself, and - no harm be done. - </p> - - <p> - The Notables, mollified by Easter festivities, by the sacrifice of - Calonne, are not in the worst humour. Already his Majesty, while the - “interlunar shadows” were in office, had held session of Notables; and - from his throne delivered promissory conciliatory eloquence: “The Queen - stood waiting at a window, till his carriage came back; and Monsieur from - afar clapped hands to her,” in sign that all was well.<a - href="#linknote-64" name="linknoteref-64" id="linknoteref-64">[64]</a> It - has had the best effect; if such do but last. Leading Notables meanwhile - can be “caressed;” Brienne’s new gloss, Lamoignon’s long head will profit - somewhat; conciliatory eloquence shall not be wanting. On the whole, - however, is it not undeniable that this of ousting Calonne and adopting - the plans of Calonne, is a measure which, to produce its best effect, - should be looked at from a certain distance, cursorily; not dwelt on with - minute near scrutiny. In a word, that no service the Notables could now - do were so obliging as, in some handsome manner, to—take themselves - away! Their “Six Propositions” about Provisional Assemblies, suppression - of <i>Corvées</i> and suchlike, can be accepted without criticism. The - <i>Subvention</i> on Land-tax, and much else, one must glide hastily - over; safe nowhere but in flourishes of conciliatory eloquence. Till at - length, on this 25th of May, year 1787, in solemn final session, there - bursts forth what we can call an explosion of eloquence; King, Loménie, - Lamoignon and retinue taking up the successive strain; in harrangues to - the number of ten, besides his Majesty’s, which last the livelong - day;—whereby, as in a kind of choral anthem, or bravura peal, of - thanks, praises, promises, the Notables are, so to speak, organed out, - and dismissed to their respective places of abode. They had sat, and - talked, some nine weeks: they were the first Notables since Richelieu’s, - in the year 1626. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - By some Historians, sitting much at their ease, in the safe distance, - Loménie has been blamed for this dismissal of his Notables: nevertheless - it was clearly time. There are things, as we said, which should not be - dwelt on with minute close scrutiny: over hot coals you cannot glide too - fast. In these Seven Bureaus, where no work could be done, unless talk - were work, the questionablest matters were coming up. Lafayette, for - example, in Monseigneur d’Artois’ Bureau, took upon him to set forth more - than one deprecatory oration about <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i>, Liberty of - the Subject, <i>Agio</i>, and suchlike; which Monseigneur endeavouring to - repress, was answered that a Notable being summoned to speak his opinion - must speak it.<a href="#linknote-65" name="linknoteref-65" - id="linknoteref-65">[65]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Thus too his Grace the Archbishop of Aix perorating once, with a - plaintive pulpit tone, in these words? ‘Tithe, that free-will offering of - the piety of Christians’—‘Tithe,’ interrupted Duke la - Rochefoucault, with the cold business-manner he has learned from the - English, ‘that free-will offering of the piety of Christians; on which - there are now forty-thousand lawsuits in this realm.’<a - href="#linknote-66" name="linknoteref-66" id="linknoteref-66">[66]</a> - Nay, Lafayette, bound to speak his opinion, went the length, one day, of - proposing to convoke a “National Assembly.” ‘You demand States-General?’ - asked Monseigneur with an air of minatory surprise.—‘Yes, - Monseigneur; and even better than that.’—‘Write it,’ said - Monseigneur to the Clerks.<a href="#linknote-67" name="linknoteref-67" - id="linknoteref-67">[67]</a>—Written accordingly it is; and what is - more, will be acted by and by. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> - Chapter 1.3.IV.<br/> - Loménie’s Edicts. - </h3> - - <p> - Thus, then, have the Notables returned home; carrying to all quarters of - France, such notions of deficit, decrepitude, distraction; and that - States-General will cure it, or will not cure it but kill it. Each - Notable, we may fancy, is as a funeral torch; disclosing hideous abysses, - better left hid! The unquietest humour possesses all men; ferments, seeks - issue, in pamphleteering, caricaturing, projecting, declaiming; vain - jangling of thought, word and deed. - </p> - - <p> - It is Spiritual Bankruptcy, long tolerated; verging now towards - Economical Bankruptcy, and become intolerable. For from the lowest dumb - rank, the inevitable misery, as was predicted, has spread upwards. In - every man is some obscure feeling that his position, oppressive or else - oppressed, is a false one: all men, in one or the other acrid dialect, as - assaulters or as defenders, must give vent to the unrest that is in them. - Of such stuff national well-being, and the glory of rulers, is not made. - O Loménie, what a wild-heaving, waste-looking, hungry and angry world - hast thou, after lifelong effort, got promoted to take charge of! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Loménie’s first Edicts are mere soothing ones: creation of Provincial - Assemblies, “for apportioning the imposts,” when we get any; suppression - of <i>Corvées</i> or statute-labour; alleviation of <i>Gabelle</i>. - Soothing measures, recommended by the Notables; long clamoured for by all - liberal men. Oil cast on the waters has been known to produce a good - effect. Before venturing with great essential measures, Loménie will see - this singular “swell of the public mind” abate somewhat. - </p> - - <p> - Most proper, surely. But what if it were not a swell of the abating kind? - There are swells that come of upper tempest and wind-gust. But again - there are swells that come of subterranean pent wind, some say; and even - of inward decomposition, of decay that has become - self-combustion:—as when, according to Neptuno-Plutonic Geology, - the World is all decayed down into due attritus of this sort; and shall - now be <i>exploded</i>, and new-made! These latter abate not by - oil.—The fool says in his heart, How shall not tomorrow be as - yesterday; as all days,—which were once tomorrows? The wise man, - looking on this France, moral, intellectual, economical, sees, “in short, - all the symptoms he has ever met with in history,”—unabatable by - soothing Edicts. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile, abate or not, cash must be had; and for that quite another - sort of Edicts, namely “bursal” or fiscal ones. How easy were fiscal - Edicts, did you know for certain that the Parlement of Paris would what - they call “register” them! Such right of registering, properly of mere - <i>writing down</i>, the Parlement has got by old wont; and, though but a - Law-Court, can remonstrate, and higgle considerably about the same. Hence - many quarrels; desperate Maupeou devices, and victory and defeat;—a - quarrel now near forty years long. Hence fiscal Edicts, which otherwise - were easy enough, become such problems. For example, is there not - Calonne’s <i>Subvention Territoriale</i>, universal, unexempting - Land-tax; the sheet-anchor of Finance? Or, to show, so far as possible, - that one is not without original finance talent, Loménie himself can - devise an <i>Edit du Timbre</i> or Stamp-tax,—borrowed also, it is - true; but then from America: may it prove luckier in France than there! - </p> - - <p> - France has her resources: nevertheless, it cannot be denied, the aspect - of that Parlement is questionable. Already among the Notables, in that - final symphony of dismissal, the Paris President had an ominous tone. - Adrien Duport, quitting magnetic sleep, in this agitation of the world, - threatens to rouse himself into preternatural wakefulness. Shallower but - also louder, there is magnetic D’Espréménil, with his tropical heat (he - was born at Madras); with his dusky confused violence; holding of - Illumination, Animal Magnetism, Public Opinion, Adam Weisshaupt, - Harmodius and Aristogiton, and all manner of confused violent things: of - whom can come no good. The very Peerage is infected with the leaven. Our - Peers have, in too many cases, laid aside their frogs, laces, bagwigs; - and go about in English costume, or ride rising in their - stirrups,—in the most headlong manner; nothing but insubordination, - eleutheromania, confused unlimited opposition in their heads. - Questionable: not to be ventured upon, if we had a Fortunatus’ Purse! But - Loménie has waited all June, casting on the waters what oil he had; and - now, betide as it may, the two Finance Edicts must out. On the 6th of - July, he forwards his proposed Stamp-tax and Land-tax to the Parlement of - Paris; and, as if putting his own leg foremost, not his borrowed - Calonne’s-leg, places the Stamp-tax first in order. - </p> - - <p> - Alas, the Parlement will <i>not</i> register: the Parlement demands - instead a “state of the expenditure,” a “state of the contemplated - reductions;” “states” enough; which his Majesty must decline to furnish! - Discussions arise; patriotic eloquence: the Peers are summoned. Does the - Nemean Lion begin to bristle? Here surely is a duel, which France and the - Universe may look upon: with prayers; at lowest, with curiosity and bets. - Paris stirs with new animation. The outer courts of the Palais de Justice - roll with unusual crowds, coming and going; their huge outer hum mingles - with the clang of patriotic eloquence within, and gives vigour to it. - Poor Loménie gazes from the distance, little comforted; has his invisible - emissaries flying to and fro, assiduous, without result. - </p> - - <p> - So pass the sultry dog-days, in the most electric manner; and the whole - month of July. And still, in the Sanctuary of Justice, sounds nothing but - Harmodius-Aristogiton eloquence, environed with the hum of crowding - Paris; and no registering accomplished, and no “states” furnished. - ‘States?’ said a lively Parlementeer: ‘Messieurs, the states that should - be furnished us, in my opinion are the STATES-GENERAL.’ On which timely - joke there follow cachinnatory buzzes of approval. What a word to be - spoken in the Palais de Justice! Old D’Ormesson (the Ex-Controller’s - uncle) shakes his judicious head; far enough from laughing. But the outer - courts, and Paris and France, catch the glad sound, and repeat it; shall - repeat it, and re-echo and reverberate it, till it grow a deafening peal. - Clearly enough here is no registering to be thought of. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The pious Proverb says, “There are remedies for all things but death.” - When a Parlement refuses registering, the remedy, by long practice, has - become familiar to the simplest: a Bed of Justice. One complete month - this Parlement has spent in mere idle jargoning, and sound and fury; the - <i>Timbre</i> Edict not registered, or like to be; the <i>Subvention</i> - not yet so much as spoken of. On the 6th of August let the whole - refractory Body roll out, in wheeled vehicles, as far as the King’s - Château of Versailles; there shall the King, holding his Bed of Justice, - <i>order</i> them, by his own royal lips, to register. They may - remonstrate, in an under tone; but they must obey, lest a worse unknown - thing befall them. - </p> - - <p> - It is done: the Parlement has rolled out, on royal summons; has heard the - express royal order to register. Whereupon it has rolled back again, amid - the hushed expectancy of men. And now, behold, on the morrow, this - Parlement, seated once more in its own Palais, with “crowds inundating - the outer courts,” not only does not register, but (O portent!) declares - all that was done on the prior day to be <i>null</i>, and the Bed of - Justice as good as a futility! In the history of France here verily is a - new feature. Nay better still, our heroic Parlement, getting suddenly - enlightened on several things, declares that, for its part, it is - incompetent to register Tax-edicts at all,—having done it by - mistake, during these late centuries; that for such act one authority - only is competent: the assembled Three Estates of the Realm! - </p> - - <p> - To such length can the universal spirit of a Nation penetrate the most - isolated Body-corporate: say rather, with such weapons, homicidal and - suicidal, in exasperated political duel, will Bodies-corporate fight! - But, in any case, is not this the real death-grapple of war and - internecine duel, Greek meeting Greek; whereon men, had they even no - interest in it, might look with interest unspeakable? Crowds, as was - said, inundate the outer courts: inundation of young eleutheromaniac - Noblemen in English costume, uttering audacious speeches; of Procureurs, - Basoche-Clerks, who are idle in these days: of Loungers, Newsmongers and - other nondescript classes,—rolls tumultuous there. “From three to - four thousand persons,” waiting eagerly to hear the <i>Arrêtés</i> - (Resolutions) you arrive at within; applauding with bravos, with the - clapping of from six to eight thousand hands! Sweet also is the meed of - patriotic eloquence, when your D’Espréménil, your Fréteau, or Sabatier, - issuing from his Demosthenic Olympus, the thunder being hushed for the - day, is welcomed, in the outer courts, with a shout from four thousand - throats; is borne home shoulder-high “with benedictions,” and strikes the - stars with his sublime head. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> - Chapter 1.3.V.<br/> - Loménie’s Thunderbolts. - </h3> - - <p> - Arise, Loménie-Brienne: here is no case for “Letters of Jussion;” for - faltering or compromise. Thou seest the whole loose <i>fluent</i> - population of Paris (whatsoever is not solid, and fixed to work) - inundating these outer courts, like a loud destructive deluge; the very - Basoche of Lawyers’ Clerks talks sedition. The lower classes, in this - duel of Authority with Authority, Greek throttling Greek, have ceased to - respect the City-Watch: Police-satellites are marked on the back with - chalk (the M signifies <i>mouchard</i>, spy); they are hustled, hunted - like <i>feræ naturæ</i>. Subordinate rural Tribunals send messengers of - congratulation, of adherence. Their Fountain of Justice is becoming a - Fountain of Revolt. The Provincial Parlements look on, with intent eye, - with breathless wishes, while their elder sister of Paris does battle: - the whole Twelve are of one blood and temper; the victory of one is that - of all. - </p> - - <p> - Ever worse it grows: on the 10th of August, there is “<i>Plainte</i>” - emitted touching the “prodigalities of Calonne,” and permission to - “proceed” against him. No registering, but instead of it, denouncing: of - dilapidation, peculation; and ever the burden of the song, - States-General! Have the royal armories no thunderbolt, that thou - couldst, O Loménie, with red right-hand, launch it among these - Demosthenic theatrical thunder-barrels, mere resin and noise for most - part;—and shatter, and smite them silent? On the night of the 14th - of August, Loménie launches his thunderbolt, or handful of them. Letters - named of the Seal (<i>de Cachet</i>), as many as needful, some sixscore - and odd, are delivered overnight. And so, next day betimes, the whole - Parlement, once more set on wheels, is rolling incessantly towards Troyes - in Champagne; “escorted,” says History, “with the blessings of all - people;” the very innkeepers and postillions looking gratuitously - reverent.<a href="#linknote-68" name="linknoteref-68" - id="linknoteref-68">[68]</a> This is the 15th of August 1787. - </p> - - <p> - What will not people bless; in their extreme need? Seldom had the - Parlement of Paris deserved much blessing, or received much. An isolated - Body-corporate, which, out of old confusions (while the Sceptre of the - Sword was confusedly struggling to become a Sceptre of the Pen), had got - itself together, better and worse, as Bodies-corporate do, to satisfy - some dim desire of the world, and many clear desires of individuals; and - so had grown, in the course of centuries, on concession, on acquirement - and usurpation, to be what we see it: a prosperous social Anomaly, - deciding Lawsuits, sanctioning or rejecting Laws; and withal disposing of - its places and offices by sale for ready money,—which method sleek - President Hénault, after meditation, will demonstrate to be the - indifferent-best.<a href="#linknote-69" name="linknoteref-69" - id="linknoteref-69">[69]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In such a Body, existing by purchase for ready-money, there could not be - excess of public spirit; there might well be excess of eagerness to - divide the public spoil. Men in helmets have divided that, with swords; - men in wigs, with quill and inkhorn, do divide it: and even more - hatefully these latter, if more peaceably; for the wig-method is at once - irresistibler and baser. By long experience, says Besenval, it has been - found useless to sue a Parlementeer at law; no Officer of Justice will - serve a writ on one; his wig and gown are his Vulcan’s-panoply, his - enchanted cloak-of-darkness. - </p> - - <p> - The Parlement of Paris may count itself an unloved body; mean, not - magnanimous, on the political side. Were the King weak, always (as now) - has his Parlement barked, cur-like at his heels; with what popular cry - there might be. Were he strong, it barked before his face; hunting for - him as his alert beagle. An unjust Body; where foul influences have more - than once worked shameful perversion of judgment. Does not, in these very - days, the blood of murdered Lally cry aloud for vengeance? Baited, - circumvented, driven mad like the snared lion, Valour had to sink - extinguished under vindictive Chicane. Behold him, that hapless Lally, - his wild dark soul looking through his wild dark face; trailed on the - ignominious death-hurdle; the voice of his despair choked by a wooden - gag! The wild fire-soul that has known only peril and toil; and, for - threescore years, has buffeted against Fate’s obstruction and men’s - perfidy, like genius and courage amid poltroonery, dishonesty and - commonplace; faithfully enduring and endeavouring,—O Parlement of - Paris, dost thou reward it with a gibbet and a gag?<a href="#linknote-70" - name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70">[70]</a> The dying Lally - bequeathed his memory to his boy; a young Lally has arisen, demanding - redress in the name of God and man. The Parlement of Paris does its - utmost to defend the indefensible, abominable; nay, what is singular, - dusky-glowing Aristogiton d’Espréménil is the man chosen to be its - spokesman in that. - </p> - - <p> - Such Social Anomaly is it that France now blesses. An unclean Social - Anomaly; but in duel against another worse! The exiled Parlement is felt - to have “covered itself with glory.” There are quarrels in which even - Satan, bringing help, were not unwelcome; even Satan, fighting stiffly, - might cover himself with glory,—of a temporary sort. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But what a stir in the outer courts of the Palais, when Paris finds its - Parlement trundled off to Troyes in Champagne; and nothing left but a few - mute Keepers of records; the Demosthenic thunder become extinct, the - martyrs of liberty clean gone! Confused wail and menace rises from the - four thousand throats of Procureurs, Basoche-Clerks, Nondescripts, and - Anglomaniac Noblesse; ever new idlers crowd to see and hear; Rascality, - with increasing numbers and vigour, hunts <i>mouchards</i>. Loud - whirlpool rolls through these spaces; the rest of the City, fixed to its - work, cannot yet go rolling. Audacious placards are legible, in and about - the Palais, the speeches are as good as seditious. Surely the temper of - Paris is much changed. On the third day of this business (18th of - August), Monsieur and Monseigneur d’Artois, coming in state-carriages, - according to use and wont, to have these late obnoxious <i>Arrêtés</i> - and protests “expunged” from the Records, are received in the most marked - manner. Monsieur, who is thought to be in opposition, is met with vivats - and strewed flowers; Monseigneur, on the other hand, with silence; with - murmurs, which rise to hisses and groans; nay, an irreverent Rascality - presses towards him in floods, with such hissing vehemence, that the - Captain of the Guards has to give order, ‘<i>Haut les armes</i> (Handle - arms)!’—at which thunder-word, indeed, and the flash of the clear - iron, the Rascal-flood recoils, through all avenues, fast enough.<a - href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71" id="linknoteref-71">[71]</a> - New features these. Indeed, as good M. de Malesherbes pertinently - remarks, ‘it is a quite new kind of contest this with the Parlement:’ no - transitory sputter, as from collision of hard bodies; but more like ‘the - first sparks of what, if not quenched, may become a great - conflagration.’<a href="#linknote-72" name="linknoteref-72" - id="linknoteref-72">[72]</a> - </p> - - <p> - This good Malesherbes sees himself now again in the King’s Council, after - an absence of ten years: Loménie would profit if not by the faculties of - the man, yet by the name he has. As for the man’s opinion, it is not - listened to;—wherefore he will soon withdraw, a second time; back - to his books and his trees. In such King’s Council what can a good man - profit? Turgot tries it not a second time: Turgot has quitted France and - this Earth, some years ago; and now cares for none of these things. - Singular enough: Turgot, this same Loménie, and the Abbé Morellet were - once a trio of young friends; fellow-scholars in the Sorbonne. Forty new - years have carried them severally thus far. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile the Parlement sits daily at Troyes, calling cases; and daily - adjourns, no Procureur making his appearance to plead. Troyes is as - hospitable as could be looked for: nevertheless one has comparatively a - dull life. No crowds now to carry you, shoulder-high, to the immortal - gods; scarcely a Patriot or two will drive out so far, and bid you be of - firm courage. You are in furnished lodgings, far from home and domestic - comfort: little to do, but wander over the unlovely Champagne fields; - seeing the grapes ripen; taking counsel about the thousand-times - consulted: a prey to tedium; in danger even that Paris may forget you. - Messengers come and go: pacific Loménie is not slack in negotiating, - promising; D’Ormesson and the prudent elder Members see no good in - strife. - </p> - - <p> - After a dull month, the Parlement, yielding and retaining, makes truce, - as all Parlements must. The Stamp-tax is withdrawn: the <i>Subvention</i> - Land-tax is also withdrawn; but, in its stead, there is granted, what - they call a “Prorogation of the Second Twentieth,”—itself a kind of - Land-tax, but not so oppressive to the Influential classes; which lies - mainly on the Dumb class. Moreover, secret promises exist (on the part of - the Elders), that finances may be raised by Loan. Of the ugly word - States-General there shall be no mention. - </p> - - <p> - And so, on the 20th of September, our exiled Parlement returns: - D’Espréménil said, “it went out covered with glory, but had come back - covered with mud (<i>de boue</i>).” Not so, Aristogiton; or if so, thou - surely art the man to clean it. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> - Chapter 1.3.VI.<br/> - Loménie’s Plots. - </h3> - - <p> - Was ever unfortunate Chief Minister so bested as Loménie-Brienne? The - reins of the State fairly in his hand these six months; and not the - smallest motive-power (of Finance) to stir from the spot with, this way - or that! He flourishes his whip, but advances not. Instead of - ready-money, there is nothing but rebellious debating and recalcitrating. - </p> - - <p> - Far is the public mind from having calmed; it goes chafing and fuming - ever worse: and in the royal coffers, with such yearly Deficit running - on, there is hardly the colour of coin. Ominous prognostics! Malesherbes, - seeing an exhausted, exasperated France grow hotter and hotter, talks of - “conflagration:” Mirabeau, without talk, has, as we perceive, descended - on Paris again, close on the rear of the Parlement,<a href="#linknote-73" - name="linknoteref-73" id="linknoteref-73">[73]</a>—not to quit his - native soil any more. - </p> - - <p> - Over the Frontiers, behold Holland invaded by Prussia;<a - href="#linknote-74" name="linknoteref-74" id="linknoteref-74">[74]</a> - the French party oppressed, England and the Stadtholder triumphing: to - the sorrow of War-Secretary Montmorin and all men. But without money, - sinews of war, as of work, and of existence itself, what can a Chief - Minister do? Taxes profit little: this of the Second Twentieth falls not - due till next year; and will then, with its “strict valuation,” produce - more controversy than cash. Taxes on the Privileged Classes cannot be got - registered; are intolerable to our supporters themselves: taxes on the - Unprivileged yield nothing,—as from a thing drained dry more cannot - be drawn. Hope is nowhere, if not in the old refuge of Loans. - </p> - - <p> - To Loménie, aided by the long head of Lamoignon, deeply pondering this - sea of troubles, the thought suggested itself: Why not have a Successive - Loan (<i>Emprunt Successif</i>), or Loan that went on lending, year after - year, as much as needful; say, till 1792? The trouble of registering such - Loan were the same: we had then breathing time; money to work with, at - least to subsist on. Edict of a Successive Loan must be proposed. To - conciliate the Philosophes, let a liberal Edict walk in front of it, for - emancipation of Protestants; let a liberal Promise guard the rear of it, - that when our Loan ends, in that final 1792, the States-General shall be - convoked. - </p> - - <p> - Such liberal Edict of Protestant Emancipation, the time having come for - it, shall cost a Loménie as little as the “Death-penalties to be put in - execution” did. As for the liberal Promise, of States-General, it can be - fulfilled or not: the fulfilment is five good years off; in five years - much intervenes. But the registering? Ah, truly, there is the - difficulty!—However, we have that promise of the Elders, given - secretly at Troyes. Judicious gratuities, cajoleries, underground - intrigues, with old Foulon, named “<i>Ame damnée</i>, Familiar-demon, of - the Parlement,” may perhaps do the rest. At worst and lowest, the Royal - Authority has resources,—which ought it not to put forth? If it - cannot realise money, the Royal Authority is as good as dead; dead of - that surest and miserablest death, inanition. Risk and win; without risk - all is already lost! For the rest, as in enterprises of pith, a touch of - stratagem often proves furthersome, his Majesty announces <i>a Royal - Hunt</i>, for the 19th of November next; and all whom it concerns are - joyfully getting their gear ready. - </p> - - <p> - Royal Hunt indeed; but of two-legged unfeathered game! At eleven in the - morning of that Royal-Hunt day, 19th of November 1787, unexpected blare - of trumpetting, tumult of charioteering and cavalcading disturbs the Seat - of Justice: his Majesty is come, with Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, and - Peers and retinue, to hold Royal Session and have Edicts registered. What - a change, since Louis XIV. entered here, in boots; and, whip in hand, - ordered his registering to be done,—with an Olympian look which - none durst gainsay; and did, without stratagem, in such unceremonious - fashion, hunt as well as register!<a href="#linknote-75" - name="linknoteref-75" id="linknoteref-75">[75]</a> For Louis XVI., on - this day, the Registering will be enough; if indeed he and the day - suffice for it. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, with fit ceremonial words, the purpose of the royal breast is - signified:—Two Edicts, for Protestant Emancipation, for Successive - Loan: of both which Edicts our trusty Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon will - explain the purport; on both which a trusty Parlement is requested to - deliver its opinion, each member having free privilege of speech. And so, - Lamoignon too having perorated not amiss, and wound up with that Promise - of States-General,—the Sphere-music of Parlementary eloquence - begins. Explosive, responsive, sphere answering sphere, it waxes louder - and louder. The Peers sit attentive; of diverse sentiment: unfriendly to - States-General; unfriendly to Despotism, which cannot reward merit, and - is suppressing places. But what agitates his Highness d’Orléans? The - rubicund moon-head goes wagging; darker beams the copper visage, like - unscoured copper; in the glazed eye is disquietude; he rolls uneasy in - his seat, as if he meant something. Amid unutterable satiety, has sudden - new appetite, for new forbidden fruit, been vouchsafed him? Disgust and - edacity; laziness that cannot rest; futile ambition, revenge, - non-admiralship:—O, within that carbuncled skin what a confusion of - confusions sits bottled! - </p> - - <p> - “Eight Couriers,” in course of the day, gallop from Versailles, where - Loménie waits palpitating; and gallop back again, not with the best news. - In the outer Courts of the Palais, huge buzz of expectation reigns; it is - whispered the Chief Minister has lost six votes overnight. And from - within, resounds nothing but forensic eloquence, pathetic and even - indignant; heartrending appeals to the royal clemency, that his Majesty - would please to summon States-General forthwith, and be the Saviour of - France:—wherein dusky-glowing D’Espréménil, but still more Sabatier - de Cabre, and Fréteau, since named <i>Commère</i> Fréteau (Goody - Fréteau), are among the loudest. For six mortal hours it lasts, in this - manner; the infinite hubbub unslackened. - </p> - - <p> - And so now, when brown dusk is falling through the windows, and no end - visible, his Majesty, on hint of Garde-des-Sceaux, Lamoignon, opens his - royal lips once more to say, in brief That he must have his Loan-Edict - registered.—Momentary deep pause!—See! Monseigneur d’Orléans - rises; with moon-visage turned towards the royal platform, he asks, with - a delicate graciosity of manner covering unutterable things: ‘Whether it - is a Bed of Justice, then; or a Royal Session?’ Fire flashes on him from - the throne and neighbourhood: surly answer that ‘it is a Session.’ In - that case, Monseigneur will crave leave to remark that Edicts cannot be - registered by <i>order</i> in a Session; and indeed to enter, against - such registry, his individual humble Protest. ‘<i>Vous êtes bien le - maître</i> (You will do your pleasure)’, answers the King; and thereupon, - in high state, marches out, escorted by his Court-retinue; D’Orléans - himself, as in duty bound, escorting him, but only to the gate. Which - duty done, D’Orléans returns in from the gate; redacts his Protest, in - the face of an applauding Parlement, an applauding France; and - so—has <i>cut</i> his Court-moorings, shall we say? And will now - sail and drift, fast enough, towards Chaos? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thou foolish D’Orléans; Equality that art to be! Is Royalty grown a mere - wooden Scarecrow; whereon thou, pert scald-headed crow, mayest alight at - pleasure, and peck? Not yet wholly. - </p> - - <p> - Next day, a Lettre-de-Cachet sends D’Orléans to bethink himself in his - Château of Villers-Cotterets, where, alas, is no Paris with its joyous - necessaries of life; no fascinating indispensable Madame de - Buffon,—light wife of a great Naturalist much too old for her. - Monseigneur, it is said, does nothing but walk distractedly, at - Villers-Cotterets; cursing his stars. Versailles itself shall hear - penitent wail from him, so hard is his doom. By a second, simultaneous - Lettre-de-Cachet, Goody Fréteau is hurled into the Stronghold of Ham, - amid the Norman marshes; by a third, Sabatier de Cabre into Mont St. - Michel, amid the Norman quicksands. As for the Parlement, it must, on - summons, travel out to Versailles, with its Register-Book under its arm, - to have the Protest <i>biffé</i> (expunged); not without admonition, and - even rebuke. A stroke of authority which, one might have hoped, would - quiet matters. - </p> - - <p> - Unhappily, no; it is a mere taste of the whip to rearing coursers, which - makes them rear worse! When a team of Twenty-five Millions begins - rearing, what is Loménie’s whip? The Parlement will nowise acquiesce - meekly; and set to register the Protestant Edict, and do its other work, - in salutary fear of these three Lettres-de-Cachet. Far from that, it - begins questioning Lettres-de-Cachet generally, their legality, - endurability; emits dolorous objurgation, petition on petition to have - its three Martyrs delivered; cannot, till that be complied with, so much - as think of examining the Protestant Edict, but puts it off always “till - this day week.”<a href="#linknote-76" name="linknoteref-76" - id="linknoteref-76">[76]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In which objurgatory strain Paris and France joins it, or rather has - preceded it; making fearful chorus. And now also the other Parlements, at - length opening their mouths, begin to join; some of them, as at Grenoble - and at Rennes, with portentous emphasis,—threatening, by way of - reprisal, to interdict the very Tax-gatherer.<a href="#linknote-77" - name="linknoteref-77" id="linknoteref-77">[77]</a> ‘In all former - contests,’ as Malesherbes remarks, ‘it was the Parlement that excited the - Public; but here it is the Public that excites the Parlement.’ - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> - Chapter 1.3.VII.<br/> - Internecine. - </h3> - - <p> - What a France, through these winter months of the year 1787! The very - Œil-de-Bœuf is doleful, uncertain; with a general feeling among the - Suppressed, that it were better to be in Turkey. The Wolf-hounds are - suppressed, the Bear-hounds, Duke de Coigny, Duke de Polignac: in the - Trianon little-heaven, her Majesty, one evening, takes Besenval’s arm; - asks his candid opinion. The intrepid Besenval,—having, as he - hopes, nothing of the sycophant in <i>him</i>,—plainly signifies - that, with a Parlement in rebellion, and an Œil-de-Bœuf in suppression, - the King’s Crown is in danger;—whereupon, singular to say, her - Majesty, as if hurt, changed the subject, <i>et ne me parla plus de - rien!</i><a href="#linknote-78" name="linknoteref-78" - id="linknoteref-78">[78]</a> - </p> - - <p> - To whom, indeed, can this poor Queen speak? In need of wise counsel, if - ever mortal was; yet beset here only by the hubbub of chaos! Her - dwelling-place is so bright to the eye, and confusion and black care - darkens it all. Sorrows of the Sovereign, sorrows of the woman, - think-coming sorrows environ her more and more. Lamotte, the - Necklace-Countess, has in these late months escaped, perhaps been - suffered to escape, from the Salpêtrière. Vain was the hope that Paris - might thereby forget her; and this ever-widening-lie, and heap of lies, - subside. The Lamotte, with a V (for <i>Voleuse</i>, Thief) branded on - both shoulders, has got to England; and will therefrom emit lie on lie; - defiling the highest queenly name: mere distracted lies;<a - href="#linknote-79" name="linknoteref-79" id="linknoteref-79">[79]</a> - which, in its present humour, France will greedily believe. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For the rest, it is too clear our Successive Loan is not filling. As - indeed, in such circumstances, a Loan registered by expunging of Protests - was not the likeliest to fill. Denunciation of <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i>, - of Despotism generally, abates not: the Twelve Parlements are busy; the - Twelve hundred Placarders, Balladsingers, Pamphleteers. Paris is what, in - figurative speech, they call “flooded with pamphlets (<i>regorge de - brochures</i>);” flooded and eddying again. Hot deluge,—from so - many Patriot ready-writers, all at the <i>fervid</i> or boiling point; - each ready-writer, now in the hour of eruption, going like an Iceland - Geyser! Against which what can a judicious friend Morellet do; a Rivarol, - an unruly Linguet (well paid for it),—spouting <i>cold!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Now also, at length, does come discussion of the Protestant Edict: but - only for new embroilment; in pamphlet and counter-pamphlet, increasing - the madness of men. Not even Orthodoxy, bedrid as she seemed, but will - have a hand in this confusion. She, once again in the shape of Abbé - Lenfant, “whom Prelates drive to visit and congratulate,”—raises - audible sound from her pulpit-drum.<a href="#linknote-80" - name="linknoteref-80" id="linknoteref-80">[80]</a> Or mark how - D’Espréménil, who has his own confused way in all things, produces at the - right moment in Parlementary harangue, a pocket Crucifix, with the - apostrophe: ‘Will ye crucify him afresh?’ <i>Him</i>, O D’Espréménil, - without scruple;—considering what poor stuff, of ivory and - filigree, <i>he</i> is made of! - </p> - - <p> - To all which add only that poor Brienne has fallen sick; so hard was the - tear and wear of his sinful youth, so violent, incessant is this - agitation of his foolish old age. Baited, bayed at through so many - throats, his Grace, growing consumptive, inflammatory (with <i>humeur de - dartre</i>), lies reduced to milk diet; in exasperation, almost in - desperation; with “repose,” precisely the impossible recipe, prescribed - as the indispensable.<a href="#linknote-81" name="linknoteref-81" - id="linknoteref-81">[81]</a> - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, what can a poor Government do, but once more recoil - ineffectual? The King’s Treasury is running towards the lees; and Paris - “eddies with a flood of pamphlets.” At all rates, let the <i>latter</i> - subside a little! D’Orléans gets back to Raincy, which is nearer Paris - and the fair frail Buffon; finally to Paris itself: neither are Fréteau - and Sabatier banished forever. The Protestant Edict is registered; to the - joy of Boissy d’Anglas and good Malesherbes: Successive Loan, all - protests expunged or else withdrawn, remains open,—the rather as - few or none come to fill it. States-General, for which the Parlement has - clamoured, and now the whole Nation clamours, will follow “in five - years,”—if indeed not sooner. O Parlement of Paris, what a clamour - was that! ‘Messieurs,’ said old d’Ormesson, ‘you will get States-General, - and you will repent it.’ Like the Horse in the Fable, who, to be avenged - of his enemy, applied to the Man. The Man mounted; did swift execution on - the enemy; but, unhappily, would not dismount! Instead of five years, let - three years pass, and this clamorous Parlement shall have both seen its - enemy hurled prostrate, and been itself ridden to foundering (say rather, - jugulated for hide and shoes), and lie dead in the ditch. - </p> - - <p> - Under such omens, however, we have reached the spring of 1788. By no path - can the King’s Government find passage for itself, but is everywhere - shamefully flung back. Beleaguered by Twelve rebellious Parlements, which - are grown to be the organs of an angry Nation, it can advance nowhither; - can accomplish nothing, obtain nothing, not so much as money to subsist - on; but must sit there, seemingly, to be eaten up of Deficit. - </p> - - <p> - The measure of the Iniquity, then, of the Falsehood which has been - gathering through long centuries, is nearly full? At least, that of the - misery is! For the hovels of the Twenty-five Millions, the misery, - permeating upwards and forwards, as its law is, has got so far,—to - the very Œil-de-Bœuf of Versailles. Man’s hand, in this blind pain, is - set against man: not only the low against the higher, but the higher - against each other; Provincial Noblesse is bitter against Court Noblesse; - Robe against Sword; Rochet against Pen. But against the King’s Government - who is not bitter? Not even Besenval, in these days. To it all men and - bodies of men are become as enemies; it is the centre whereon infinite - contentions unite and clash. What new universal vertiginous movement is - this; of Institution, social Arrangements, individual Minds, which once - worked cooperative; now rolling and grinding in distracted collision? - Inevitable: it is the breaking-up of a World-Solecism, worn out at last, - down even to bankruptcy of money! And so this poor Versailles Court, as - the chief or central Solecism, finds all the other Solecisms arrayed - against it. Most natural! For your human Solecism, be it Person or - Combination of Persons, is ever, by law of Nature, uneasy; if verging - towards bankruptcy, it is even miserable:—and when would the - meanest Solecism consent to blame or amend <i>itself</i>, while there - remained another to amend? - </p> - - <p> - These threatening signs do not terrify Loménie, much less teach him. - Loménie, though of light nature, is not without courage, of a sort. Nay, - have we not read of lightest creatures, trained Canary-birds, that could - fly cheerfully with lighted matches, and fire cannon; fire whole - powder-magazines? To sit and die of deficit is no part of Loménie’s plan. - The evil is considerable; but can he not remove it, can he not attack it? - At lowest, he can attack the <i>symptom</i> of it: these rebellious - Parlements he can attack, and perhaps remove. Much is dim to Loménie, but - two things are clear: that such Parlementary duel with Royalty is growing - perilous, nay internecine; above all, that money must be had. Take - thought, brave Loménie; thou Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, who hast ideas! - So often defeated, balked cruelly when the golden fruit seemed within - clutch, rally for one other struggle. To tame the Parlement, to fill the - King’s coffers: these are now life-and-death questions. - </p> - - <p> - Parlements have been tamed, more than once. Set to perch “on the peaks of - rocks in accessible except by litters,” a Parlement grows reasonable. O - Maupeou, thou bold man, had we left thy work where it was!—But - apart from exile, or other violent methods, is there not one method, - whereby all things are tamed, even lions? The method of hunger! What if - the Parlement’s supplies were cut off; namely its Lawsuits! - </p> - - <p> - Minor Courts, for the trying of innumerable minor causes, might be - instituted: these we could call <i>Grand Bailliages</i>. Whereon the - Parlement, shortened of its prey, would look with yellow despair; but the - Public, fond of cheap justice, with favour and hope. Then for Finance, - for registering of Edicts, why not, from our own Œil-de-Bœuf Dignitaries, - our Princes, Dukes, Marshals, make a thing we could call <i>Plenary - Court</i>; and there, so to speak, do our registering ourselves? St. - Louis had his Plenary Court, of Great Barons;<a href="#linknote-82" - name="linknoteref-82" id="linknoteref-82">[82]</a> most useful to him: - our Great Barons are still here (at least the Name of them is still - here); our necessity is greater than his. - </p> - - <p> - Such is the Loménie-Lamoignon device; welcome to the King’s Council, as a - light-beam in great darkness. The device seems feasible, it is eminently - needful: be it once well executed, great deliverance is wrought. Silent, - then, and steady; now or never!—the World shall see one other - Historical Scene; and so singular a man as Loménie de Brienne still the - Stage-manager there. - </p> - - <p> - Behold, accordingly, a Home-Secretary Bréteuil “beautifying Paris,” in - the peaceablest manner, in this hopeful spring weather of 1788; the old - hovels and hutches disappearing from our Bridges: as if for the State too - there were halcyon weather, and nothing to do but beautify. Parlement - seems to sit acknowledged victor. Brienne says nothing of Finance; or - even says, and prints, that it is all well. How is this; such halcyon - quiet; though the Successive Loan did not fill? In a victorious - Parlement, Counsellor Goeslard de Monsabert even denounces that “levying - of the Second Twentieth on strict valuation;” and gets decree that the - valuation shall not be strict,—not on the privileged classes. - Nevertheless Brienne endures it, launches no Lettre-de-Cachet against it. - How is this? - </p> - - <p> - Smiling is such vernal weather; but treacherous, sudden! For one thing, - we hear it whispered, “the Intendants of Provinces have all got order to - be at their posts on a certain day.” Still more singular, what incessant - Printing is this that goes on at the King’s Château, under lock and key? - Sentries occupy all gates and windows; the Printers come not out; they - sleep in their workrooms; their very food is handed in to them!<a - href="#linknote-83" name="linknoteref-83" id="linknoteref-83">[83]</a> A - victorious Parlement smells new danger. D’Espréménil has ordered horses - to Versailles; prowls round that guarded Printing-Office; prying, - snuffing, if so be the sagacity and ingenuity of man may penetrate it. - </p> - - <p> - To a shower of gold most things are penetrable. D’Espréménil descends on - the lap of a Printer’s Danae, in the shape of “five hundred louis d’or:” - the Danae’s Husband smuggles a ball of clay to her; which she delivers to - the golden Counsellor of Parlement. Kneaded within it, their stick - printed proof-sheets;—by Heaven! the royal Edict of that same - self-registering <i>Plenary Court;</i> of those <i>Grand Bailliages</i> - that shall cut short our Lawsuits! It is to be promulgated over all - France on one and the same day. - </p> - - <p> - This, then, is what the Intendants were bid wait for at their posts: this - is what the Court sat hatching, as its accursed cockatrice-egg; and would - not stir, though provoked, till the brood were out! Hie with it, - D’Espréménil, home to Paris; convoke instantaneous Sessions; let the - Parlement, and the Earth, and the Heavens know it. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> - Chapter 1.3.VIII.<br/> - Loménie’s Death-throes. - </h3> - - <p> - On the morrow, which is the 3rd of May, 1788, an astonished Parlement - sits convoked; listens speechless to the speech of D’Espréménil, - unfolding the infinite misdeed. Deed of treachery; of unhallowed - darkness, such as Despotism loves! Denounce it, O Parlement of Paris; - awaken France and the Universe; roll what thunder-barrels of forensic - eloquence thou hast: with thee too it is verily Now or never! - </p> - - <p> - The Parlement is not wanting, at such juncture. In the hour of his - extreme jeopardy, the lion first incites himself by roaring, by lashing - his sides. So here the Parlement of Paris. On the motion of D’Espréménil, - a most patriotic Oath, of the One-and-all sort, is sworn, with united - throat;—an excellent new-idea, which, in these coming years, shall - not remain unimitated. Next comes indomitable Declaration, almost of the - rights of man, at least of the rights of Parlement; Invocation to the - friends of French Freedom, in this and in subsequent time. All which, or - the essence of all which, is brought to paper; in a tone wherein - something of plaintiveness blends with, and tempers, heroic valour. And - thus, having sounded the storm-bell,—which Paris hears, which all - France will hear; and hurled such defiance in the teeth of Loménie and - Despotism, the Parlement retires as from a tolerable first day’s work. - </p> - - <p> - But how Loménie felt to see his cockatrice-egg (so essential to the - salvation of France) broken in this premature manner, let readers fancy! - Indignant he clutches at his thunderbolts (<i>de Cachet</i>, of the - Seal); and launches two of them: a bolt for D’Espréménil; a bolt for that - busy Goeslard, whose service in the Second Twentieth and “strict - valuation” is not forgotten. Such bolts clutched promptly overnight, and - launched with the early new morning, shall strike agitated Paris if not - into requiescence, yet into wholesome astonishment. - </p> - - <p> - Ministerial thunderbolts may be launched; but if they do not <i>hit?</i> - D’Espréménil and Goeslard, warned, both of them, as is thought, by the - singing of some friendly bird, elude the Loménie Tipstaves; escape - disguised through skywindows, over roofs, to their own Palais de Justice: - the thunderbolts have <i>missed</i>. Paris (for the buzz flies abroad) is - struck into astonishment <i>not</i> wholesome. The two martyrs of Liberty - doff their disguises; don their long gowns; behold, in the space of an - hour, by aid of ushers and swift runners, the Parlement, with its - Counsellors, Presidents, even Peers, sits anew assembled. The assembled - Parlement declares that these its two martyrs cannot be given up, to any - sublunary authority; moreover that the “session is permanent,” admitting - of no adjournment, till pursuit of them has been relinquished. - </p> - - <p> - And so, with forensic eloquence, denunciation and protest, with couriers - going and returning, the Parlement, in this state of continual explosion - that shall cease neither night nor day, waits the issue. Awakened Paris - once more inundates those outer courts; boils, in floods wilder than - ever, through all avenues. Dissonant hubbub there is; jargon as of Babel, - in the hour when they were first smitten (as here) with mutual - unintelligibilty, and the people had not yet dispersed! - </p> - - <p> - Paris City goes through its diurnal epochs, of working and slumbering; - and now, for the second time, most European and African mortals are - asleep. But here, in this Whirlpool of Words, sleep falls not; the Night - spreads her coverlid of Darkness over it in vain. Within is the sound of - mere martyr invincibility; tempered with the due tone of plaintiveness. - Without is the infinite expectant hum,—growing drowsier a little. - So has it lasted for six-and-thirty hours. - </p> - - <p> - But hark, through the dead of midnight, what tramp is this? Tramp as of - armed men, foot and horse; Gardes Françaises, Gardes Suisses: marching - hither; in silent regularity; in the flare of torchlight! There are - Sappers, too, with axes and crowbars: apparently, if the doors open not, - they will be forced!—It is Captain D’Agoust, missioned from - Versailles. D’Agoust, a man of known firmness;—who once forced - Prince Condé himself, by mere incessant looking at him, to give - satisfaction and fight;<a href="#linknote-84" name="linknoteref-84" - id="linknoteref-84">[84]</a> he now, with axes and torches is advancing - on the very sanctuary of Justice. Sacrilegious; yet what help? The man is - a soldier; looks merely at his orders; impassive, moves forward like an - inanimate engine. - </p> - - <p> - The doors open on summons, there need no axes; door after door. And now - the innermost door opens; discloses the long-gowned Senators of France: a - hundred and sixty-seven by tale, seventeen of them Peers; sitting there, - majestic, “in permanent session.” Were not the men military, and of - cast-iron, this sight, this silence reechoing the clank of his own boots, - might stagger him! For the hundred and sixty-seven receive him in perfect - silence; which some liken to that of the Roman Senate overfallen by - Brennus; some to that of a nest of coiners surprised by officers of the - Police.<a href="#linknote-85" name="linknoteref-85" - id="linknoteref-85">[85]</a> <i>Messieurs</i>, said D’Agoust, <i>De par - le Roi!</i> Express order has charged D’Agoust with the sad duty of - arresting two individuals: M. Duval d’Espréménil and M. Goeslard de - Monsabert. Which respectable individuals, as he has not the honour of - knowing them, are hereby invited, in the King’s name, to surrender - themselves.—Profound silence! Buzz, which grows a murmur: ‘We are - all D’Espréménils!’ ventures a voice; which other voices repeat. The - President inquires, Whether he will employ violence? Captain D’Agoust, - honoured with his Majesty’s commission, has to execute his Majesty’s - order; would so gladly do it without violence, will in any case do it; - grants an august Senate space to deliberate which method <i>they</i> - prefer. And thereupon D’Agoust, with grave military courtesy, has - withdrawn for the moment. - </p> - - <p> - What boots it, august Senators? All avenues are closed with fixed - bayonets. Your Courier gallops to Versailles, through the dewy Night; but - also gallops back again, with tidings that the order is authentic, that - it is irrevocable. The outer courts simmer with idle population; but - D’Agoust’s grenadier-ranks stand there as immovable floodgates: there - will be no revolting to deliver you. ‘Messieurs!’ thus spoke - D’Espréménil, ‘when the victorious Gauls entered Rome, which they had - carried by assault, the Roman Senators, clothed in their purple, sat - there, in their curule chairs, with a proud and tranquil countenance, - awaiting slavery or death. Such too is the lofty spectacle, which you, in - this hour, offer to the universe (<i>à l’univers</i>), after having - generously’—with much more of the like, as can still be read.<a - href="#linknote-86" name="linknoteref-86" id="linknoteref-86">[86]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In vain, O D’Espréménil! Here is this cast-iron Captain D’Agoust, with - his cast-iron military air, come back. Despotism, constraint, destruction - sit waving in his plumes. D’Espréménil must fall silent; heroically give - himself up, lest worst befall. Him Goeslard heroically imitates. With - spoken and speechless emotion, they fling themselves into the arms of - their Parlementary brethren, for a last embrace: and so amid plaudits and - plaints, from a hundred and sixty-five throats; amid wavings, sobbings, a - whole forest-sigh of Parlementary pathos,—they are led through - winding passages, to the rear-gate; where, in the gray of the morning, - two Coaches with <i>Exempts</i> stand waiting. There must the victims - mount; bayonets menacing behind. D’Espréménil’s stern question to the - populace, “Whether they have courage?” is answered by silence. They - mount, and roll; and neither the rising of the May sun (it is the 6th - morning), nor its setting shall lighten their heart: but they fare - forward continually; D’Espréménil towards the utmost Isles of Sainte - Marguerite, or Hieres (supposed by some, if that is any comfort, to be - Calypso’s Island); Goeslard towards the land-fortress of Pierre-en-Cize, - extant then, near the City of Lyons. - </p> - - <p> - Captain D’Agoust may now therefore look forward to Majorship, to - Commandantship of the Tuilleries;<a href="#linknote-87" - name="linknoteref-87" id="linknoteref-87">[87]</a>—and withal - vanish from History; where nevertheless he has been fated to do a notable - thing. For not only are D’Espréménil and Goeslard safe whirling - southward, but the Parlement itself has straightway to march out: to that - also his inexorable order reaches. Gathering up their long skirts, they - file out, the whole Hundred and Sixty-five of them, through two rows of - unsympathetic grenadiers: a spectacle to gods and men. The people revolt - not; they only wonder and grumble: also, we remark, these unsympathetic - grenadiers are <i>Gardes Françaises</i>,—who, one day, will - sympathise! In a word, the Palais de Justice is swept clear, the doors of - it are locked; and D’Agoust returns to Versailles with the key in his - pocket,—having, as was said, merited preferment. - </p> - - <p> - As for this Parlement of Paris, now turned out to the street, we will - without reluctance leave it there. The Beds of Justice it had to undergo, - in the coming fortnight, at Versailles, in registering, or rather - refusing to register, those new-hatched Edicts; and how it assembled in - taverns and tap-rooms there, for the purpose of Protesting,<a - href="#linknote-88" name="linknoteref-88" id="linknoteref-88">[88]</a> or - hovered disconsolate, with outspread skirts, not knowing where to - assemble; and was reduced to lodge Protest “with a Notary;” and in the - end, to sit still (in a state of forced “vacation”), and do nothing; all - this, natural now, as the burying of the dead after battle, shall not - concern us. The Parlement of Paris has as good as performed its part; - doing and misdoing, so far, but hardly further, could it stir the world. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Loménie has removed the evil then? Not at all: not so much as the symptom - of the evil; scarcely the <i>twelfth</i> part of the symptom, and - exasperated the other eleven! The Intendants of Provinces, the Military - Commandants are at their posts, on the appointed 8th of May: but in no - Parlement, if not in the single one of Douai, can these new Edicts get - registered. Not peaceable signing with ink; but browbeating, - bloodshedding, appeal to primary club-law! Against these Bailliages, - against this Plenary Court, exasperated Themis everywhere shows face of - battle; the Provincial Noblesse are of her party, and whoever hates - Loménie and the evil time; with her attorneys and Tipstaves, she enlists - and operates down even to the populace. At Rennes in Brittany, where the - historical Bertrand de Moleville is Intendant, it has passed from fatal - continual duelling, between the military and gentry, to street-fighting; - to stone-volleys and musket-shot: and still the Edicts remained - unregistered. The afflicted Bretons send remonstrance to Loménie, by a - Deputation of Twelve; whom, however, Loménie, having heard them, shuts up - in the Bastille. A second larger deputation he meets, by his scouts, on - the road, and persuades or frightens back. But now a third largest - Deputation is indignantly sent by <i>many</i> roads: refused audience on - arriving, it meets to take council; invites Lafayette and all Patriot - Bretons in Paris to assist; agitates itself; becomes the <i>Breton - Club</i>, first germ of—the <i>Jacobins’ Society.</i><a - href="#linknote-89" name="linknoteref-89" id="linknoteref-89">[89]</a> - </p> - - <p> - So many as eight Parlements get exiled:<a href="#linknote-90" - name="linknoteref-90" id="linknoteref-90">[90]</a> others might need that - remedy, but it is one not always easy of appliance. At Grenoble, for - instance, where a Mounier, a Barnave have not been idle, the Parlement - had due order (by <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i>) to depart, and exile itself: - but on the morrow, instead of coaches getting yoked, the alarm-bell - bursts forth, ominous; and peals and booms all day: crowds of - mountaineers rush down, with axes, even with firelocks,—whom (most - ominous of all!) the soldiery shows no eagerness to deal with. “Axe over - head,” the poor General has to sign capitulation; to engage that the - <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i> shall remain unexecuted, and a beloved Parlement - stay where it is. Besancon, Dijon, Rouen, Bourdeaux, are not what they - should be! At Pau in Bearn, where the old Commandant had failed, the new - one (a Grammont, native to them) is met by a Procession of townsmen with - the Cradle of Henri Quatre, the Palladium of their Town; is conjured as - he venerates this old Tortoise-shell, in which the great Henri was - rocked, not to trample on Bearnese liberty; is informed, withal, that his - Majesty’s cannon are all safe—in the keeping of his Majesty’s - faithful Burghers of Pau, and do now lie pointed on the walls there; - ready for action!<a href="#linknote-91" name="linknoteref-91" - id="linknoteref-91">[91]</a> - </p> - - <p> - At this rate, your Grand Bailliages are like to have a stormy infancy. As - for the Plenary Court, it has literally expired in the birth. The very - Courtiers looked shy at it; old Marshal Broglie declined the honour of - sitting therein. Assaulted by a universal storm of mingled ridicule and - execration,<a href="#linknote-92" name="linknoteref-92" - id="linknoteref-92">[92]</a> this poor Plenary Court met once, and never - any second time. Distracted country! Contention hisses up, with forked - hydra-tongues, wheresoever poor Loménie sets his foot. “Let a Commandant, - a Commissioner of the King,” says Weber, “enter one of these Parlements - to have an Edict registered, the whole Tribunal will disappear, and leave - the Commandant alone with the Clerk and First President. The Edict - registered and the Commandant gone, the whole Tribunal hastens back, to - declare such registration null. The highways are covered with <i>Grand - Deputations</i> of Parlements, proceeding to Versailles, to have their - registers expunged by the King’s hand; or returning home, to cover a new - page with a new resolution still more audacious.”<a href="#linknote-93" - name="linknoteref-93" id="linknoteref-93">[93]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such is the France of this year 1788. Not now a Golden or Paper Age of - Hope; with its horse-racings, balloon-flyings, and finer sensibilities of - the heart: ah, gone is that; its golden effulgence paled, bedarkened in - <i>this</i> singular manner,—brewing towards preternatural weather! - For, as in that wreck-storm of <i>Paul et Virginie</i> and - Saint-Pierre,—“One huge motionless cloud” (say, of Sorrow and - Indignation) “girdles our whole horizon; streams up, hairy, copper-edged, - over a sky of the colour of lead.” Motionless itself; but “small clouds” - (as exiled Parlements and suchlike), “parting from it, fly over the - zenith, with the velocity of birds:”—till at last, with one loud - howl, the whole Four Winds be dashed together, and all the world exclaim, - There is the tornado! <i>Tout le monde s’écria, Voilà l’ouragan!</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For the rest, in such circumstances, the Successive Loan, very naturally, - remains unfilled; neither, indeed, can that impost of the Second - Twentieth, at least not on “strict valuation,” be levied to good purpose: - “Lenders,” says Weber, in his hysterical vehement manner, “are afraid of - ruin; tax-gatherers of hanging.” The very Clergy turn away their face: - convoked in Extraordinary Assembly, they afford no gratuitous gift - (<i>don gratuit</i>),—if it be not that of advice; here too instead - of cash is clamour for States-General.<a href="#linknote-94" - name="linknoteref-94" id="linknoteref-94">[94]</a> - </p> - - <p> - O Loménie-Brienne, with thy poor flimsy mind all bewildered, and now - “three actual cauteries” on thy worn-out body; who art like to die of - inflamation, provocation, milk-diet, <i>dartres vives</i> and - <i>maladie</i>—(best untranslated);<a href="#linknote-95" - name="linknoteref-95" id="linknoteref-95">[95]</a> and presidest over a - France with innumerable <i>actual cauteries</i>, which also is dying of - inflammation and the rest! Was it wise to quit the bosky verdures of - Brienne, and thy new ashlar Château there, and what it held, for - <i>this?</i> Soft were those shades and lawns; sweet the hymns of - Poetasters, the blandishments of high-rouged Graces:<a - href="#linknote-96" name="linknoteref-96" id="linknoteref-96">[96]</a> - and always this and the other Philosophe Morellet (nothing deeming - himself or thee a questionable Sham-Priest) could be so happy in making - happy:—and also (hadst thou known it), in the Military School hard - by there sat, studying mathematics, a dusky-complexioned taciturn Boy, - under the name of: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE!—With fifty years of effort, - and one final dead-lift struggle, thou hast made an exchange! Thou hast - got thy robe of office,—as Hercules had his Nessus’-shirt. - </p> - - <p> - On the 13th of July of this 1788, there fell, on the very edge of - harvest, the most frightful hailstorm; scattering into wild waste the - Fruits of the Year; which had otherwise suffered grievously by drought. - For sixty leagues round Paris especially, the ruin was almost total.<a - href="#linknote-97" name="linknoteref-97" id="linknoteref-97">[97]</a> To - so many other evils, then, there is to be added, that of dearth, perhaps - of famine. - </p> - - <p> - Some days before this hailstorm, on the 5th of July; and still more - decisively some days after it, on the 8th of August,—Loménie - announces that the States-General are actually to meet in the following - month of May. Till after which period, this of the Plenary Court, and the - rest, shall remain <i>postponed</i>. Further, as in Loménie there is no - plan of forming or holding these most desirable States-General, “thinkers - are invited” to furnish him with one,—through the medium of - discussion by the public press! - </p> - - <p> - What could a poor Minister do? There are still ten months of respite - reserved: a sinking pilot will fling out all things, his very - biscuit-bags, lead, log, compass and quadrant, before flinging out - <i>himself</i>. It is on this principle, of sinking, and the incipient - delirium of despair, that we explain likewise the almost miraculous - “invitation to thinkers.” Invitation to Chaos to be so kind as build, out - of its tumultuous drift-wood, an Ark of Escape for him! In these cases, - not invitation but command has usually proved serviceable.—The - Queen stood, that evening, pensive, in a window, with her face turned - towards the Garden. The <i>Chef de Gobelet</i> had followed her with an - obsequious cup of coffee; and then retired till it were sipped. Her - Majesty beckoned Dame Campan to approach: ‘<i>Grand Dieu!</i>’ murmured - she, with the cup in her hand, ‘what a piece of news will be made public - today! The King grants States-General.’ Then raising her eyes to Heaven - (if Campan were not mistaken), she added: ‘’Tis a first beat of the drum, - of ill-omen for France. This Noblesse will ruin us.’<a - href="#linknote-98" name="linknoteref-98" id="linknoteref-98">[98]</a> - </p> - - <p> - During all that hatching of the Plenary Court, while Lamoignon looked so - mysterious, Besenval had kept asking him one question: Whether they had - cash? To which as Lamoignon always answered (on the faith of Loménie) - that the cash was safe, judicious Besenval rejoined that then all was - safe. Nevertheless, the melancholy fact is, that the royal coffers are - almost getting literally void of coin. Indeed, apart from all other - things this “invitation to thinkers,” and the great change now at hand - are enough to “arrest the circulation of capital,” and forward only that - of pamphlets. A few thousand gold louis are now all of money or money’s - worth that remains in the King’s Treasury. With another movement as of - desperation, Loménie invites Necker to come and be Controller of - Finances! Necker has other work in view than controlling Finances for - Loménie: with a dry refusal he stands taciturn; awaiting his time. - </p> - - <p> - What shall a desperate Prime Minister do? He has grasped at the strongbox - of the King’s Theatre: some Lottery had been set on foot for those - sufferers by the hailstorm; in his extreme necessity, Loménie lays hands - even on this.<a href="#linknote-99" name="linknoteref-99" - id="linknoteref-99">[99]</a> To make provision for the passing day, on - any terms, will soon be impossible.—On the 16th of August, poor - Weber heard, at Paris and Versailles, hawkers, “with a hoarse stifled - tone of voice (<i>voix étouffée, sourde</i>)” drawling and snuffling, - through the streets, an <i>Edict concerning Payments</i> (such was the - soft title Rivarol had contrived for it): all payments at the Royal - Treasury shall be made henceforth, three-fifths in Cash, and the - remaining two-fifths—in Paper bearing interest! Poor Weber almost - swooned at the sound of these cracked voices, with their bodeful - raven-note; and will never forget the effect it had on him.<a - href="#linknote-100" name="linknoteref-100" - id="linknoteref-100">[100]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But the effect on Paris, on the world generally? From the dens of - Stock-brokerage, from the heights of Political Economy, of Neckerism and - Philosophism; from all articulate and inarticulate throats, rise hootings - and howlings, such as ear had not yet heard. Sedition itself may be - imminent! Monseigneur d’Artois, moved by Duchess Polignac, feels called - to wait upon her Majesty; and explain frankly what crisis matters stand - in. “The Queen wept;” Brienne himself wept;—for it is now visible - and palpable that he must go. - </p> - - <p> - Remains only that the Court, to whom his manners and garrulities were - always agreeable, shall make his fall soft. The grasping old man has - already got his Archbishopship of Toulouse exchanged for the richer one - of Sens: and now, in this hour of pity, he shall have the Coadjutorship - for his nephew (hardly yet of due age); a Dameship of the Palace for his - niece; a Regiment for her husband; for himself a red Cardinal’s-hat, a - <i>Coupe de Bois</i> (cutting from the royal forests), and on the whole - “from five to six hundred thousand livres of revenue:”<a - href="#linknote-101" name="linknoteref-101" - id="linknoteref-101">[101]</a> finally, his Brother, the Comte de - Brienne, shall still continue War-minister. Buckled-round with such - bolsters and huge featherbeds of Promotion, let him now fall as soft as - he can! - </p> - - <p> - And so Loménie departs: rich if Court-titles and Money-bonds can enrich - him; but if these cannot, perhaps the poorest of all extant men. “Hissed - at by the people of Versailles,” he drives forth to Jardi; southward to - Brienne,—for recovery of health. Then to Nice, to Italy; but shall - return; shall glide to and fro, tremulous, faint-twinkling, fallen on - awful times: till the Guillotine—snuff out his weak existence? - Alas, worse: for it is <i>blown</i> out, or choked out, foully, pitiably, - on the way to the Guillotine! In his Palace of Sens, rude Jacobin - Bailiffs made him drink with them from his own wine-cellars, feast with - them from his own larder; and on the morrow morning, the miserable old - man lies dead. This is the end of Prime Minister, Cardinal Archbishop - Loménie de Brienne. Flimsier mortal was seldom fated to do as weighty a - mischief; to have a life as despicable-envied, an exit as frightful. - <i>Fired</i>, as the phrase is, with ambition: blown, like a kindled rag, - the sport of winds, not this way, not that way, but of all ways, straight - towards <i>such</i> a powder-mine,—which he kindled! Let us pity - the hapless Loménie; and forgive him; and, as soon as possible, forget - him. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"></a> - Chapter 1.3.IX.<br/> - Burial with Bonfire. - </h3> - - <p> - Besenval, during these extraordinary operations, of Payment two-fifths in - Paper, and change of Prime Minister, had been out on a tour through his - District of Command; and indeed, for the last months, peacefully drinking - the waters of Contrexeville. Returning now, in the end of August, towards - Moulins, and “knowing nothing,” he arrives one evening at Langres; finds - the whole Town in a state of uproar (<i>grande rumeur</i>). Doubtless - some sedition; a thing too common in these days! He alights nevertheless; - inquires of a “man tolerably dressed,” what the matter is?—‘How?’ - answers the man, ‘you have not heard the news? The Archbishop is thrown - out, and M. Necker is recalled; and all is going to go well!’<a - href="#linknote-102" name="linknoteref-102" - id="linknoteref-102">[102]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Such <i>rumeur</i> and vociferous acclaim has risen round M. Necker, ever - from “that day when he issued from the Queen’s Apartments,” a nominated - Minister. It was on the 24th of August: “the galleries of the Château, - the courts, the streets of Versailles; in few hours, the Capital; and, as - the news flew, all France, resounded with the cry of <i>Vive le Roi! Vive - M. Necker!</i><a href="#linknote-103" name="linknoteref-103" - id="linknoteref-103">[103]</a> In Paris indeed it unfortunately got the - length of turbulence.” Petards, rockets go off, in the Place Dauphine, - more than enough. A “wicker Figure (<i>Mannequin d’osier</i>),” in - Archbishop’s stole, made emblematically, three-fifths of it satin, - two-fifths of it paper, is promenaded, not in silence, to the popular - judgment-bar; is doomed; shriven by a mock Abbé de Vermond; then solemnly - consumed by fire, at the foot of Henri’s Statue on the Pont - Neuf;—with such petarding and huzzaing that Chevalier Dubois and - his City-watch see good finally to make a charge (more or less - ineffectual); and there wanted not burning of sentry-boxes, forcing of - guard-houses, and also “dead bodies thrown into the Seine over-night,” to - avoid new effervescence.<a href="#linknote-104" name="linknoteref-104" - id="linknoteref-104">[104]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Parlements therefore shall return from exile: Plenary Court, Payment - two-fifths in Paper have vanished; gone off in smoke, at the foot of - Henri’s Statue. States-General (with a Political Millennium) are now - certain; nay, it shall be announced, in our fond haste, for January next: - and all, as the Langres man said, is “going to go.” - </p> - - <p> - To the prophetic glance of Besenval, one other thing is too apparent: - that Friend Lamoignon cannot keep his Keepership. Neither he nor - War-minister Comte de Brienne! Already old Foulon, with an eye to be - war-minister himself, is making underground movements. This is that same - Foulon named <i>âme damnée du Parlement;</i> a man grown gray in - treachery, in griping, projecting, intriguing and iniquity: who once when - it was objected, to some finance-scheme of his, ‘What will the people - do?’—made answer, in the fire of discussion, ‘The people may eat - grass:’ hasty words, which fly abroad irrevocable,—and will send - back tidings! - </p> - - <p> - Foulon, to the relief of the world, fails on this occasion; and will - always fail. Nevertheless it steads not M. de Lamoignon. It steads not - the doomed man that he have interviews with the King; and be “seen to - return <i>radieux</i>,” emitting <i>rays</i>. Lamoignon is the hated of - Parlements: Comte de Brienne is Brother to the Cardinal Archbishop. The - 24th of August has been; and the 14th September is not yet, when they - two, as their great Principal had done, descend,—made to fall - <i>soft</i>, like him. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And now, as if the last burden had been rolled from its heart, and - assurance were at length perfect, Paris bursts forth anew into extreme - jubilee. The Basoche rejoices aloud, that the foe of Parlements is - fallen; Nobility, Gentry, Commonalty have rejoiced; and rejoice. Nay now, - with new emphasis, Rascality itself, starting suddenly from its dim - depths, will arise and do it,—for down even thither the new - Political Evangel, in some rude version or other, has penetrated. It is - Monday, the 14th of September 1788: Rascality assembles anew, in great - force, in the Place Dauphine; lets off petards, fires blunderbusses, to - an incredible extent, without interval, for eighteen hours. There is - again a wicker Figure, “<i>Mannequin</i> of osier:” the centre of endless - howlings. Also Necker’s Portrait snatched, or purchased, from some - Printshop, is borne processionally, aloft on a perch, with - huzzas;—an example to be remembered. - </p> - - <p> - But chiefly on the Pont Neuf, where the Great Henri, in bronze, rides - sublime; there do the crowds gather. All passengers must stop, till they - have bowed to the People’s King, and said audibly: <i>Vive Henri Quatre; - au diable Lamoignon!</i> No carriage but must stop; not even that of his - Highness d’Orléans. Your coach-doors are opened: Monsieur will please to - put forth his head and bow; or even, if refractory, to alight altogether, - and kneel: from Madame a wave of her plumes, a smile of her fair face, - there where she sits, shall suffice;—and surely a coin or two (to - buy <i>fusées</i>) were not unreasonable from the Upper Classes, friends - of Liberty? In this manner it proceeds for days; in such rude - horse-play,—not without kicks. The City-watch can do nothing; - hardly save its own skin: for the last twelve-month, as we have sometimes - seen, it has been a kind of pastime to <i>hunt</i> the Watch. Besenval - indeed is at hand with soldiers; but they have orders to avoid firing, - and are not prompt to stir. - </p> - - <p> - On Monday morning the explosion of petards began: and now it is near - midnight of Wednesday; and the “wicker <i>Mannequin</i>” is to be - buried,—apparently in the Antique fashion. Long rows of torches, - following it, move towards the Hôtel Lamoignon; but “a servant of mine” - (Besenval’s) has run to give warning, and there are soldiers come. Gloomy - Lamoignon is not to die by conflagration, or this night; not yet for a - year, and then by gunshot (suicidal or accidental is unknown).<a - href="#linknote-105" name="linknoteref-105" - id="linknoteref-105">[105]</a> Foiled Rascality burns its “Mannikin of - osier,” under his windows; “tears up the sentry-box,” and rolls off: to - try Brienne; to try Dubois Captain of the Watch. Now, however, all is - bestirring itself; Gardes Françaises, Invalides, Horse-patrol: the Torch - Procession is met with sharp shot, with the thrusting of bayonets, the - slashing of sabres. Even Dubois makes a charge, with that Cavalry of his, - and the cruelest charge of all: “there are a great many killed and - wounded.” Not without clangour, complaint; subsequent criminal trials, - and official persons dying of heartbreak!<a href="#linknote-106" - name="linknoteref-106" id="linknoteref-106">[106]</a> So, however, with - steel-besom, Rascality is brushed back into its dim depths, and the - streets are swept clear. - </p> - - <p> - Not for a century and half had Rascality ventured to step forth in this - fashion; not for so long, showed its huge rude lineaments in the light of - day. A Wonder and new Thing: as yet gamboling merely, in awkward - Brobdingnag sport, not without quaintness; hardly in anger: yet in its - huge half-vacant laugh lurks a shade of grimness,—which could - unfold itself! - </p> - - <p> - However, the thinkers invited by Loménie are now far on with their - pamphlets: States-General, on one plan or another, will infallibly meet; - if not in January, as was once hoped, yet at latest in May. Old Duke de - Richelieu, moribund in these autumn days, opens his eyes once more, - murmuring, ‘What would Louis Fourteenth’ (whom he remembers) ‘have - said!’—then closes them again, forever, before the evil time. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"></a> - BOOK 1.IV.<br/> - STATES-GENERAL - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"></a> - Chapter 1.4.I.<br/> - The Notables Again. - </h3> - - <p> - The universal prayer, therefore, is to be fulfilled! Always in days of - national perplexity, when wrong abounded and help was not, this remedy of - States-General was called for; by a Malesherbes, nay by a Fénelon;<a - href="#linknote-107" name="linknoteref-107" - id="linknoteref-107">[107]</a> even Parlements calling for it were - “escorted with blessings.” And now behold it is vouchsafed us; - States-General shall verily be! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To say, let States-General be, was easy; to say in what manner they shall - be, is not so easy. Since the year of 1614, there have no States-General - met in France, all trace of them has vanished from the living habits of - men. Their structure, powers, methods of procedure, which were never in - any measure fixed, have now become wholly a vague possibility. Clay which - the potter may shape, this way or that:—say rather, the twenty-five - millions of potters; for so many have now, more or less, a vote in it! - How to shape the States-General? There is a problem. Each Body-corporate, - each privileged, each organised Class has secret hopes of its own in that - matter; and also secret misgivings of its own,—for, behold, this - monstrous twenty-million Class, hitherto the dumb sheep which these - others had to agree about the manner of shearing, is now also arising - with hopes! It has ceased or is ceasing to be dumb; it speaks through - Pamphlets, or at least brays and growls behind them, in - unison,—increasing wonderfully their volume of sound. - </p> - - <p> - As for the Parlement of Paris, it has at once declared for the “old form - of 1614.” Which form had this advantage, that the <i>Tiers Etat</i>, - Third Estate, or Commons, figured there as a show mainly: whereby the - Noblesse and Clergy had but to avoid quarrel between themselves, and - decide unobstructed what <i>they</i> thought best. Such was the clearly - declared opinion of the Paris Parlement. But, being met by a storm of - mere hooting and howling from all men, such opinion was blown straightway - to the winds; and the popularity of the Parlement along with - it,—never to return. The Parlements part, we said above, was as - good as played. Concerning which, however, there is this further to be - noted: the proximity of dates. It was on the 22nd of September that the - Parlement returned from “vacation” or “exile in its estates;” to be - reinstalled amid boundless jubilee from all Paris. Precisely next day it - was, that this same Parlement came to its “clearly declared opinion:” and - then on the morrow after that, you behold it “covered with outrages”; its - outer court, one vast sibilation, and the glory departed from it for - evermore.<a href="#linknote-108" name="linknoteref-108" - id="linknoteref-108">[108]</a> A popularity of twenty-four hours was, in - those times, no uncommon allowance. - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, how superfluous was that invitation of Loménie’s: the - invitation to thinkers! Thinkers and unthinkers, by the million, are - spontaneously at their post, doing what is in them. Clubs labour: - <i>Societe Publicole;</i> Breton Club; Enraged Club, <i>Club des - Enrages</i>. Likewise Dinner-parties in the Palais Royal; your Mirabeaus, - Talleyrands dining there, in company with Chamforts, Morellets, with - Duponts and hot Parlementeers, not without object! For a certain - <i>Necker</i>ean Lion’s-provider, whom one could name, assembles them - there;<a href="#linknote-109" name="linknoteref-109" - id="linknoteref-109">[109]</a>—or even their own private - determination to have dinner does it. And then as to Pamphlets—in - figurative language; “it is a sheer snowing of pamphlets; like to snow up - the Government thoroughfares!” Now is the time for Friends of Freedom; - sane, and even insane. - </p> - - <p> - Count, or self-styled Count, d’Aintrigues, “the young Languedocian - gentleman,” with perhaps Chamfort the Cynic to help him, rises into furor - almost Pythic; highest, where many are high.<a href="#linknote-110" - name="linknoteref-110" id="linknoteref-110">[110]</a> Foolish young - Languedocian gentleman; who himself so soon, “emigrating among the - foremost,” must fly indignant over the marches, with the <i>Contrat - Social</i> in his pocket,—towards outer darkness, thankless - intriguings, <i>ignis-fatuus</i> hoverings, and death by the stiletto! - Abbé Sieyes has left Chartres Cathedral, and canonry and book-shelves - there; has let his tonsure grow, and come to Paris with a secular head, - of the most irrefragable sort, to ask three questions, and answer them: - <i>What is the Third Estate? All.—What has it hitherto been in our - form of government? Nothing.—What does it want? To become - Something.</i> - </p> - - <p> - D’Orléans,—for be sure he, on his way to Chaos, is in the thick of - this,—promulgates his <i>Deliberations;</i><a href="#linknote-111" - name="linknoteref-111" id="linknoteref-111">[111]</a> fathered by him, - written by Laclos of the <i>Liaisons Dangereuses.</i> The result of which - comes out simply: “The Third Estate is the Nation.” On the other hand, - Monseigneur d’Artois, with other Princes of the Blood, publishes, in - solemn <i>Memorial</i> to the King, that if such things be listened to, - Privilege, Nobility, Monarchy, Church, State and Strongbox are in - danger.<a href="#linknote-112" name="linknoteref-112" - id="linknoteref-112">[112]</a> In danger truly: and yet if you do not - listen, are they out of danger? It is the voice of all France, this sound - that rises. Immeasurable, manifold; as the sound of outbreaking waters: - wise were he who knew what to do in it,—if not to fly to the - mountains, and hide himself? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - How an ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government, sitting there on such - principles, in such an environment, would have determined to demean - itself at this new juncture, may even yet be a question. Such a - Government would have felt too well that its long task was now drawing to - a close; that, under the guise of these States-General, at length - inevitable, a new omnipotent Unknown of Democracy was coming into being; - in presence of which no Versailles Government either could or should, - except in a provisory character, continue extant. To enact which - provisory character, so unspeakably important, might its whole faculties - but have sufficed; and so a peaceable, gradual, well-conducted Abdication - and <i>Domine-dimittas</i> have been the issue! - </p> - - <p> - This for our ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government. But for the actual - irrational Versailles Government? Alas, that is a Government existing - there only for its own behoof: without right, except possession; and now - also without might. It foresees nothing, sees nothing; has not so much as - a purpose, but has only purposes,—and the instinct whereby all that - exists will struggle to keep existing. Wholly a vortex; in which vain - counsels, hallucinations, falsehoods, intrigues, and imbecilities whirl; - like withered rubbish in the meeting of winds! The Œil-de-Bœuf has its - irrational hopes, if also its fears. Since hitherto all States-General - have done as good as nothing, why should these do more? The Commons, - indeed, look dangerous; but on the whole is not revolt, unknown now for - five generations, an impossibility? The Three Estates can, by management, - be set against each other; the Third will, as heretofore, join with the - King; will, out of mere spite and self-interest, be eager to tax and vex - the other two. The other two are thus delivered bound into our hands, - that we may fleece them likewise. Whereupon, money being got, and the - Three Estates all in quarrel, dismiss them, and let the future go as it - can! As good Archbishop Loménie was wont to say: ‘There are so many - accidents; and it needs but one to save us.’—How many to destroy - us? - </p> - - <p> - Poor Necker in the midst of such an anarchy does what is possible for - him. He looks into it with obstinately hopeful face; lauds the known - rectitude of the kingly mind; listens indulgent-like to the known - perverseness of the queenly and courtly;—emits if any proclamation - or regulation, one favouring the <i>Tiers Etat;</i> but settling nothing; - hovering afar off rather, and advising all things to settle themselves. - The grand questions, for the present, have got reduced to two: the Double - Representation, and the Vote by Head. Shall the Commons have a “double - representation,” that is to say, have as many members as the Noblesse and - Clergy united? Shall the States-General, when once assembled, vote and - deliberate, in one body, or in three separate bodies; “vote by head, or - vote by class,”—<i>ordre</i> as they call it? These are the - moot-points now filling all France with jargon, logic and eleutheromania. - To terminate which, Necker bethinks him, Might not a second Convocation - of the Notables be fittest? Such second Convocation is resolved on. - </p> - - <p> - On the 6th of November of this year 1788, these Notables accordingly have - reassembled; after an interval of some eighteen months. They are - Calonne’s old Notables, the same Hundred and Forty-four,—to show - one’s impartiality; likewise to save time. They sit there once again, in - their Seven Bureaus, in the hard winter weather: it is the hardest winter - seen since 1709; thermometer below zero of Fahrenheit, Seine River frozen - over.<a href="#linknote-113" name="linknoteref-113" - id="linknoteref-113">[113]</a> Cold, scarcity and eleutheromaniac - clamour: a changed world since these Notables were “organed out,” in May - gone a year! They shall see now whether, under their Seven Princes of the - Blood, in their Seven Bureaus, they can settle the moot-points. - </p> - - <p> - To the surprise of Patriotism, these Notables, once so patriotic, seem to - incline the wrong way; towards the anti-patriotic side. They stagger at - the Double Representation, at the Vote by Head: there is not affirmative - decision; there is mere debating, and that not with the best aspects. - For, indeed, were not these Notables themselves mostly of the Privileged - Classes? They clamoured once; now they have their misgivings; make their - dolorous representations. Let them vanish, ineffectual; and return no - more! They vanish after a month’s session, on this 12th of December, year - 1788: the <i>last</i> terrestrial Notables, not to reappear any other - time, in the History of the World. - </p> - - <p> - And so, the clamour still continuing, and the Pamphlets; and nothing but - patriotic Addresses, louder and louder, pouting in on us from all corners - of France,—Necker himself some fortnight after, before the year is - yet done, has to present his <i>Report</i>,<a href="#linknote-114" - name="linknoteref-114" id="linknoteref-114">[114]</a> recommending at his - own risk that same Double Representation; nay almost enjoining it, so - loud is the jargon and eleutheromania. What dubitating, what - circumambulating! These whole six noisy months (for it began with Brienne - in July,) has not <i>Report</i> followed <i>Report</i>, and one - Proclamation flown in the teeth of the other?<a href="#linknote-115" - name="linknoteref-115" id="linknoteref-115">[115]</a> - </p> - - <p> - However, that first moot-point, as we see, is now settled. As for the - second, that of voting by Head or by Order, it unfortunately is still - left hanging. It hangs there, we may say, between the Privileged Orders - and the Unprivileged; as a ready-made battle-prize, and necessity of war, - from the very first: which battle-prize whosoever seizes it—may - thenceforth bear as battle-flag, with the best omens! - </p> - - <p> - But so, at least, by Royal Edict of the 24th of January,<a - href="#linknote-116" name="linknoteref-116" - id="linknoteref-116">[116]</a> does it finally, to impatient expectant - France, become not only indubitable that National Deputies <i>are</i> to - meet, but possible (so far and hardly farther has the royal Regulation - gone) to begin electing them. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"></a> - Chapter 1.4.II.<br/> - The Election. - </h3> - - <p> - Up, then, and be doing! The royal signal-word flies through France, as - through vast forests the rushing of a mighty wind. At Parish Churches, in - Townhalls, and every House of Convocation; by Bailliages, by - Seneschalsies, in whatsoever form men convene; there, with confusion - enough, are Primary Assemblies forming. To elect your Electors; such is - the form prescribed: then to draw up your “Writ of Plaints and Grievances - (<i>Cahier de plaintes et doléances</i>),” of which latter there is no - lack. - </p> - - <p> - With such virtue works this Royal January Edict; as it rolls rapidly, in - its leathern mails, along these frostbound highways, towards all the four - winds. Like some <i>fiat</i>, or magic spell-word;—which such - things do resemble! For always, as it sounds out “at the market-cross,” - accompanied with trumpet-blast; presided by Bailli, Seneschal, or other - minor Functionary, with beef-eaters; or, in country churches is droned - forth after sermon, “<i>au prône des messes paroissales;</i>” and is - registered, posted and let fly over all the world,—you behold how - this multitudinous French People, so long simmering and buzzing in eager - expectancy, begins heaping and shaping itself into organic groups. Which - organic groups, again, hold smaller organic grouplets: the inarticulate - buzzing becomes articulate speaking and acting. By Primary Assembly, and - then by Secondary; by “successive elections,” and infinite elaboration - and scrutiny, according to prescribed process—shall the genuine - “Plaints and Grievances” be at length got to paper; shall the fit - National Representative be at length laid hold of. - </p> - - <p> - How the whole People shakes itself, as if it had one life; and, in - thousand-voiced rumour, announces that it is awake, suddenly out of long - death-sleep, and will thenceforth sleep no more! The long looked-for has - come at last; wondrous news, of Victory, Deliverance, Enfranchisement, - sounds magical through every heart. To the proud strong man it has come; - whose strong hands shall no more be gyved; to whom boundless unconquered - continents lie disclosed. The weary day-drudge has heard of it; the - beggar with his crusts moistened in tears. What! To us also has hope - reached; down even to us? Hunger and hardship are not to be eternal? The - bread we extorted from the rugged glebe, and, with the toil of our - sinews, reaped and ground, and kneaded into loaves, was not wholly for - another, then; but we also shall eat of it, and be filled? Glorious news - (answer the prudent elders), but all-too unlikely!—Thus, at any - rate, may the lower people, who pay no money-taxes and have no right to - vote,<a href="#linknote-117" name="linknoteref-117" - id="linknoteref-117">[117]</a> assiduously crowd round those that do; and - most Halls of Assembly, within doors and without, seem animated enough. - </p> - - <p> - Paris, alone of Towns, is to have Representatives; the number of them - twenty. Paris is divided into Sixty Districts; each of which (assembled - in some church, or the like) is choosing two Electors. Official - deputations pass from District to District, for all is inexperience as - yet, and there is endless consulting. The streets swarm strangely with - busy crowds, pacific yet restless and loquacious; at intervals, is seen - the gleam of military muskets; especially about the Palais, where - Parlement, once more on duty, sits querulous, almost tremulous. - </p> - - <p> - Busy is the French world! In those great days, what poorest speculative - craftsman but will leave his workshop; if not to vote, yet to assist in - voting? On all highways is a rustling and bustling. Over the wide surface - of France, ever and anon, through the spring months, as the Sower casts - his corn abroad upon the furrows, sounds of congregating and dispersing; - of crowds in deliberation, acclamation, voting by ballot and by - voice,—rise discrepant towards the ear of Heaven. To which - political phenomena add this economical one, that Trade is stagnant, and - also Bread getting dear; for before the rigorous winter there was, as we - said, a rigorous summer, with drought, and on the 13th of July with - destructive hail. What a fearful day! all cried while that tempest fell. - Alas, the next anniversary of it will be a worse.<a href="#linknote-118" - name="linknoteref-118" id="linknoteref-118">[118]</a> Under such aspects - is France electing National Representatives. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The incidents and specialties of these Elections belong not to Universal, - but to Local or Parish History: for which reason let not the new troubles - of Grenoble or Besancon; the bloodshed on the streets of Rennes, and - consequent march thither of the Breton “Young Men” with Manifesto by - their “Mothers, Sisters and Sweethearts;”<a href="#linknote-119" - name="linknoteref-119" id="linknoteref-119">[119]</a> nor suchlike, - detain us here. It is the same sad history everywhere; with superficial - variations. A reinstated Parlement (as at Besancon), which stands - astonished at this Behemoth of a States-General it had itself evoked, - starts forward, with more or less audacity, to fix a thorn in its nose; - and, alas, is instantaneously struck down, and hurled quite - out,—for the new popular force can use not only arguments but - brickbats! Or else, and perhaps combined with this, it is an order of - Noblesse (as in Brittany), which will beforehand tie up the Third Estate, - that it harm not the old privileges. In which act of tying up, never so - skilfully set about, there is likewise no possibility of prospering; but - the Behemoth-Briareus snaps your cords like green rushes. Tie up? Alas, - Messieurs! And then, as for your chivalry rapiers, valour and - wager-of-battle, think one moment, how can that answer? The plebeian - heart too has red life in it, which changes not to paleness at glance - even of you; and “the six hundred Breton gentlemen assembled in arms, for - seventy-two hours, in the Cordeliers’ Cloister, at Rennes,”—have to - come out again, <i>wiser</i> than they entered. For the Nantes Youth, the - Angers Youth, all Brittany was astir; “mothers, sisters and sweethearts” - shrieking after them, <i>March!</i> The Breton Noblesse must even let the - mad world have its way.<a href="#linknote-120" name="linknoteref-120" - id="linknoteref-120">[120]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In other Provinces, the Noblesse, with equal goodwill, finds it better to - stick to Protests, to well-redacted “<i>Cahiers</i> of grievances,” and - satirical writings and speeches. Such is partially their course in - Provence; whither indeed Gabriel Honoré Riquetti Comte de Mirabeau has - rushed down from Paris, to speak a word in season. In Provence, the - Privileged, backed by their Aix Parlement, discover that such novelties, - enjoined though they be by Royal Edict, tend to National detriment; and - what is still more indisputable, “to impair the dignity of the Noblesse.” - Whereupon Mirabeau protesting aloud, this same Noblesse, amid huge tumult - within doors and without, flatly determines to expel him from their - Assembly. No other method, not even that of successive duels, would - answer with him, the obstreperous fierce-glaring man. Expelled he - accordingly is. - </p> - - <p> - “In all countries, in all times,” exclaims he departing, “the Aristocrats - have implacably pursued every friend of the People; and with tenfold - implacability, if such a one were himself born of the Aristocracy. It was - thus that the last of the Gracchi perished, by the hands of the - Patricians. But he, being struck with the mortal stab, flung dust towards - heaven, and called on the Avenging Deities; and from this dust there was - born Marius,—Marius not so illustrious for exterminating the - Cimbri, as for overturning in Rome the tyranny of the Nobles.”<a - href="#linknote-121" name="linknoteref-121" - id="linknoteref-121">[121]</a> Casting up <i>which</i> new curious - handful of dust (through the Printing-press), to breed what it can and - may, Mirabeau stalks forth into the Third Estate. - </p> - - <p> - That he now, to ingratiate himself with this Third Estate, “opened a - cloth-shop in Marseilles,” and for moments became a furnishing tailor, or - even the fable that he did so, is to us always among the pleasant - memorabilities of this era. Stranger Clothier never wielded the ell-wand, - and rent webs for men, or fractional parts of men. The <i>Fils - Adoptif</i> is indignant at such disparaging fable,<a - href="#linknote-122" name="linknoteref-122" - id="linknoteref-122">[122]</a>—which nevertheless was widely - believed in those days.<a href="#linknote-123" name="linknoteref-123" - id="linknoteref-123">[123]</a> But indeed, if Achilles, in the heroic - ages, killed mutton, why should not Mirabeau, in the unheroic ones, - measure broadcloth? - </p> - - <p> - More authentic are his triumph-progresses through that disturbed - district, with mob jubilee, flaming torches, “windows hired for two - louis,” and voluntary guard of a hundred men. He is Deputy Elect, both of - Aix and of Marseilles; but will prefer Aix. He has opened his - far-sounding voice, the depths of his far-sounding soul; he can quell - (such virtue is in a spoken word) the pride-tumults of the rich, the - hunger-tumults of the poor; and wild multitudes move under him, as under - the moon do billows of the sea: he has become a world compeller, and - ruler over men. - </p> - - <p> - One other incident and specialty we note; with how different an interest! - It is of the Parlement of Paris; which starts forward, like the others - (only with less audacity, seeing better how it lay), to nose-ring that - Behemoth of a States-General. Worthy Doctor Guillotin, respectable - practitioner in Paris, has drawn up his little “Plan of a <i>Cahier of - doléances</i>;”—as had he not, having the wish and gift, the - clearest liberty to do? He is getting the people to sign it; whereupon - the surly Parlement summons him to give an account of himself. He goes; - but with all Paris at his heels; which floods the outer courts, and - copiously signs the <i>Cahier</i> even there, while the Doctor is giving - account of himself within! The Parlement cannot too soon dismiss - Guillotin, with compliments; to be borne home shoulder-high.<a - href="#linknote-124" name="linknoteref-124" - id="linknoteref-124">[124]</a> This respectable Guillotin we hope to - behold once more, and perhaps only once; the Parlement not even once, but - let it be engulphed unseen by us. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile such things, cheering as they are, tend little to cheer the - national creditor, or indeed the creditor of any kind. In the midst of - universal portentous doubt, what certainty can seem so certain as money - in the purse, and the wisdom of keeping it there? Trading Speculation, - Commerce of all kinds, has as far as possible come to a dead pause; and - the hand of the industrious lies idle in his bosom. Frightful enough, - when now the rigour of seasons has also done its part, and to scarcity of - work is added scarcity of food! In the opening spring, there come rumours - of forestalment, there come King’s Edicts, Petitions of bakers against - millers; and at length, in the month of April—troops of ragged - Lackalls, and fierce cries of starvation! These are the thrice-famed - <i>Brigands:</i> an actual existing quotity of persons: who, long - reflected and reverberated through so many millions of heads, as in - concave multiplying mirrors, become a whole Brigand World; and, like a - kind of Supernatural Machinery wondrously move the Epos of the - Revolution. The Brigands are here: the Brigands are there; the Brigands - are coming! Not otherwise sounded the clang of Phoebus Apollo’s silver - bow, scattering pestilence and pale terror; for this clang too was of the - imagination; preternatural; and it too walked in formless - immeasurability, <i>having made itself like to the Night</i> - (νυκτὶ - ἐοικώς.)! - </p> - - <p> - But remark at least, for the first time, the singular empire of - Suspicion, in those lands, in those days. If poor famishing men shall, - prior to death, gather in groups and crowds, as the poor fieldfares and - plovers do in bitter weather, were it but that they may chirp mournfully - together, and misery look in the eyes of misery; if famishing men (what - famishing fieldfares cannot do) should discover, once congregated, that - they need not die while food is in the land, since they are many, and - with empty wallets have right hands: in all this, what need were there of - Preternatural Machinery? To most people none; but not to French people, - in a time of Revolution. These Brigands (as Turgot’s also were, fourteen - years ago) have all been set on; enlisted, though without tuck of - drum,—by Aristocrats, by Democrats, by D’Orléans, D’Artois, and - enemies of the public weal. Nay Historians, to this day, will prove it by - one argument: these Brigands pretending to have no victual, nevertheless - contrive to drink, nay, have been seen drunk.<a href="#linknote-125" - name="linknoteref-125" id="linknoteref-125">[125]</a> An unexampled fact! - But on the whole, may we not predict that a people, with such a width of - Credulity and of Incredulity (the proper union of which makes Suspicion, - and indeed unreason generally), will see Shapes enough of Immortals - fighting in its battle-ranks, and never want for Epical Machinery? - </p> - - <p> - Be this as it may, the Brigands are clearly got to Paris, in considerable - multitudes:<a href="#linknote-126" name="linknoteref-126" - id="linknoteref-126">[126]</a> with sallow faces, lank hair (the true - enthusiast complexion), with sooty rags; and also with large clubs, which - they smite angrily against the pavement! These mingle in the Election - tumult; would fain sign Guillotin’s <i>Cahier</i>, or any <i>Cahier</i> - or Petition whatsoever, could they but write. Their enthusiast - complexion, the smiting of their sticks bodes little good to any one; - least of all to rich master-manufacturers of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, - with whose workmen they consort. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"></a> - Chapter 1.4.III.<br/> - Grown Electric. - </h3> - - <p> - But now also National Deputies from all ends of France are in Paris, with - their commissions, what they call pouvoirs, or powers, in their pockets; - inquiring, consulting; looking out for lodgings at Versailles. The - States-General shall open there, if not on the First, then surely on the - Fourth of May, in grand procession and gala. The <i>Salle des Menus</i> - is all new-carpentered, bedizened for them; their very costume has been - fixed; a grand controversy which there was, as to “slouch-hats or - slouched-hats,” for the Commons Deputies, has got as good as adjusted. - Ever new strangers arrive; loungers, miscellaneous persons, officers on - furlough,—as the worthy Captain Dampmartin, whom we hope to be - acquainted with: these also, from all regions, have repaired hither, to - see what is toward. Our Paris Committees, of the Sixty Districts, are - busier than ever; it is now too clear, the Paris Elections will be late. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - On Monday, the 27th of April, Astronomer Bailly notices that the Sieur - Réveillon is not at his post. The Sieur Réveillon, “extensive Paper - Manufacturer of the Rue St. Antoine;” he, commonly so punctual, is absent - from the Electoral Committee;—and even will never reappear there. - In those “immense Magazines of velvet paper” has aught befallen? Alas, - yes! Alas, it is no Montgolfier rising there today; but Drudgery, - Rascality and the Suburb that is rising! Was the Sieur Réveillon, himself - once a journeyman, heard to say that “a journeyman might live handsomely - on fifteen <i>sous</i> a-day?” Some sevenpence halfpenny: ’tis a slender - sum! Or was he only thought, and believed, to be heard saying it? By this - long chafing and friction it would appear the National temper has got - <i>electric</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Down in those dark dens, in those dark heads and hungry hearts, who knows - in what strange figure the new Political Evangel may have shaped itself; - what miraculous “Communion of Drudges” may be getting formed! Enough: - grim individuals, soon waxing to grim multitudes, and other multitudes - crowding to see, beset that Paper-Warehouse; demonstrate, in loud - ungrammatical language (addressed to the passions too), the insufficiency - of sevenpence halfpenny a-day. The City-watch cannot dissipate them; - broils arise and bellowings; Réveillon, at his wits’ end, entreats the - Populace, entreats the authorities. Besenval, now in active command, - Commandant of Paris, does, towards evening, to Réveillon’s earnest - prayer, send some thirty Gardes Françaises. These clear the street, - happily without firing; and take post there for the night in hope that it - may be all over.<a href="#linknote-127" name="linknoteref-127" - id="linknoteref-127">[127]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Not so: on the morrow it is far worse. Saint-Antoine has arisen anew, - grimmer than ever;—reinforced by the unknown Tatterdemalion - Figures, with their enthusiast complexion and large sticks. The City, - through all streets, is flowing thitherward to see: “two cartloads of - paving-stones, that happened to pass that way” have been seized as a - visible godsend. Another detachment of Gardes Françaises must be sent; - Besenval and the Colonel taking earnest counsel. Then still another; they - hardly, with bayonets and menace of bullets, penetrate to the spot. What - a sight! A street choked up, with lumber, tumult and the endless press of - men. A Paper-Warehouse eviscerated by axe and fire: mad din of Revolt; - musket-volleys responded to by yells, by miscellaneous missiles; by tiles - raining from roof and window,—tiles, execrations and slain men! - </p> - - <p> - The Gardes Françaises like it not, but have to persevere. All day it - continues, slackening and rallying; the sun is sinking, and Saint-Antoine - has not yielded. The City flies hither and thither: alas, the sound of - that musket-volleying booms into the far dining-rooms of the Chaussée - d’Antin; alters the tone of the dinner-gossip there. Captain Dampmartin - leaves his wine; goes out with a friend or two, to see the fighting. - Unwashed men growl on him, with murmurs of ‘<i>À bas les Aristocrates</i> - (Down with the Aristocrats);’ and insult the cross of St. Louis? They - elbow him, and hustle him; but do not pick his pocket;—as indeed at - Réveillon’s too there was not the slightest stealing.<a - href="#linknote-128" name="linknoteref-128" - id="linknoteref-128">[128]</a> - </p> - - <p> - At fall of night, as the thing will not end, Besenval takes his - resolution: orders out the <i>Gardes Suisses</i> with two pieces of - artillery. The Swiss Guards shall proceed thither; summon that rabble to - depart, in the King’s name. If disobeyed, they shall load their artillery - with grape-shot, visibly to the general eye; shall again summon; if again - disobeyed, fire,—and keep firing “till the last man” be in this - manner blasted off, and the street clear. With which spirited resolution, - as might have been hoped, the business is got ended. At sight of the lit - matches, of the foreign red-coated Switzers, Saint-Antoine dissipates; - hastily, in the shades of dusk. There is an encumbered street; there are - “from four to five hundred” dead men. Unfortunate Réveillon has found - shelter in the Bastille; does therefrom, safe behind stone bulwarks, - issue, plaint, protestation, explanation, for the next month. Bold - Besenval has thanks from all the respectable Parisian classes; but finds - no special notice taken of him at Versailles,—a thing the man of - true worth is used to.<a href="#linknote-129" name="linknoteref-129" - id="linknoteref-129">[129]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But how it originated, this fierce electric sputter and explosion? From - D’Orléans! cries the Court-party: he, with his gold, enlisted these - Brigands,—surely in some surprising manner, without sound of drum: - he raked them in hither, from all corners; to ferment and take fire; evil - is his good. From the Court! cries enlightened Patriotism: it is the - cursed gold and wiles of Aristocrats that enlisted them; set them upon - ruining an innocent Sieur Réveillon; to frighten the faint, and disgust - men with the career of Freedom. - </p> - - <p> - Besenval, with reluctance, concludes that it came from “the English, our - natural enemies.” Or, alas, might not one rather attribute it to Diana in - the shape of Hunger? To some twin <i>Dioscuri</i>, OPPRESSION and - REVENGE; so often seen in the battles of men? Poor Lackalls, all - betoiled, besoiled, encrusted into dim defacement; into whom nevertheless - the breath of the Almighty has breathed a living soul! To them it is - clear only that eleutheromaniac Philosophism has yet baked no bread; that - Patrioti Committee-men will level down to their own level, and no lower. - Brigands, or whatever they might be, it was bitter earnest with them. - They bury their dead with the title of <i>Défenseurs de la Patrie</i>, - Martyrs of the good Cause. - </p> - - <p> - Or shall we say: Insurrection has now served its Apprenticeship; and this - was its proof-stroke, and no inconclusive one? Its next will be a - master-stroke; announcing indisputable Mastership to a whole astonished - world. Let that rock-fortress, Tyranny’s stronghold, which they name - <i>Bastille</i>, or <i>Building</i>, as if there were no other - building,—look to its guns! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But, in such wise, with primary and secondary Assemblies, and - <i>Cahiers</i> of Grievances; with motions, congregations of all kinds; - with much thunder of froth-eloquence, and at last with thunder of - platoon-musquetry,—does agitated France accomplish its Elections. - With confused winnowing and sifting, in this rather tumultuous manner, it - has now (all except some remnants of Paris) sifted out the true - wheat-grains of National Deputies, Twelve Hundred and Fourteen in number; - and will forthwith open its States-General. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"></a> - Chapter 1.4.IV.<br/> - The Procession. - </h3> - - <p> - On the first Saturday of May, it is gala at Versailles; and Monday, - fourth of the month, is to be a still greater day. The Deputies have - mostly got thither, and sought out lodgings; and are now successively, in - long well-ushered files, kissing the hand of Majesty in the Château. - Supreme Usher de Brézé does not give the highest satisfaction: we cannot - but observe that in ushering Noblesse or Clergy into the anointed - Presence, he liberally opens <i>both</i> his folding-doors; and on the - other hand, for members of the Third Estate opens only one! However, - there is room to enter; Majesty has smiles for all. - </p> - - <p> - The good Louis welcomes his Honourable Members, with smiles of hope. He - has prepared for them the Hall of <i>Menus</i>, the largest near him; and - often surveyed the workmen as they went on. A spacious Hall: with raised - platform for Throne, Court and Blood-royal; space for six hundred Commons - Deputies in front; for half as many Clergy on this hand, and half as many - Noblesse on that. It has lofty galleries; wherefrom dames of honour, - splendent in <i>gaze d’or;</i> foreign Diplomacies, and other gilt-edged - white-frilled individuals to the number of two thousand,—may sit - and look. Broad passages flow through it; and, outside the inner wall, - all round it. There are committee-rooms, guard-rooms, robing-rooms: - really a noble Hall; where upholstery, aided by the subject fine-arts, - has done its best; and crimson tasseled cloths, and emblematic - <i>fleurs-de-lys</i> are not wanting. - </p> - - <p> - The Hall is ready: the very costume, as we said, has been settled; and - the Commons are not to wear that hated slouch-hat (<i>chapeau - clabaud</i>), but one not quite so slouched (<i>chapeau rabattu</i>). As - for their manner of <i>working</i>, when all dressed: for their “voting - by head or by order” and the rest,—this, which it were perhaps - still time to settle, and in few hours will be no longer time, remains - unsettled; hangs dubious in the breast of Twelve Hundred men. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But now finally the Sun, on Monday the 4th of May, has - risen;—unconcerned, as if it were no special day. And yet, as his - first rays could strike music from the Memnon’s Statue on the Nile, what - tones were these, so thrilling, tremulous of preparation and foreboding, - which he awoke in every bosom at Versailles! Huge Paris, in all - conceivable and inconceivable vehicles, is pouring itself forth; from - each Town and Village come subsidiary rills; Versailles is a very sea of - men. But above all, from the Church of St. Louis to the Church of - Notre-Dame: one vast suspended-billow of Life,—with <i>spray</i> - scattered even to the chimney-pots! For on chimney-tops too, as over the - roofs, and up thitherwards on every lamp-iron, sign-post, breakneck coign - of vantage, sits patriotic Courage; and every window bursts with - patriotic Beauty: for the Deputies are gathering at St. Louis Church; to - march in procession to Notre-Dame, and hear sermon. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, friends, ye may sit and look: boldly or in thought, all France, and - all Europe, may sit and look; for it is a day like few others. Oh, one - might weep like Xerxes:—So many serried rows sit perched there; - like winged creatures, alighted out of Heaven: all these, and so many - more that follow them, shall have wholly fled aloft again, vanishing into - the blue Deep; and the memory of this day still be fresh. It is the - baptism-day of Democracy; sick Time has given it birth, the numbered - months being run. The extreme-unction day of Feudalism! A superannuated - System of Society, decrepit with toils (for has it not done much; - produced you, and what ye have and know!)—and with thefts and - brawls, named glorious-victories; and with profligacies, sensualities, - and on the whole with dotage and senility,—is now to die: and so, - with death-throes and birth-throes, a new one is to be born. What a work, - O Earth and Heavens, what a work! Battles and bloodshed, September - Massacres, Bridges of Lodi, retreats of Moscow, Waterloos, Peterloos, - Tenpound Franchises, Tarbarrels and Guillotines;—and from this - present date, if one might prophesy, some two centuries of it still to - fight! Two centuries; hardly less; before Democracy go through its due, - most baleful, stages of <i>Quack</i>ocracy; and a pestilential World be - burnt up, and have begun to grow green and young again. - </p> - - <p> - Rejoice nevertheless, ye Versailles multitudes; to you, from whom all - this is hid, and glorious end of it is visible. This day, sentence of - death is pronounced on Shams; judgment of resuscitation, were it but far - off, is pronounced on Realities. This day it is declared aloud, as with a - Doom-trumpet, that a <i>Lie is unbelievable</i>. Believe that, stand by - that, if more there be not; and let what thing or things soever will - follow it follow. “Ye can no other; God be your help!” So spake a greater - than any of you; opening <i>his</i> Chapter of World-History. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Behold, however! The doors of St. Louis Church flung wide; and the - Procession of Processions advancing towards Notre-Dame! Shouts rend the - air; one shout, at which Grecian birds might drop dead. It is indeed a - stately, solemn sight. The Elected of France, and then the Court of - France; they are marshalled and march there, all in prescribed place and - costume. Our Commons “in plain black mantle and white cravat;” Noblesse, - in gold-worked, bright-dyed cloaks of velvet, resplendent, rustling with - laces, waving with plumes; the Clergy in rochet, alb, or other best - <i>pontificalibus:</i> lastly comes the King himself, and King’s - Household, also in their brightest blaze of pomp,—their brightest - and final one. Some Fourteen Hundred Men blown together from all winds, - on the deepest errand. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, in that silent marching mass there lies Futurity enough. No symbolic - Ark, like the old Hebrews, do these men bear: yet with them too is a - Covenant; they too preside at a new Era in the History of Men. The whole - Future is there, and Destiny dim-brooding over it; in the hearts and - unshaped thoughts of these men, it lies illegible, inevitable. Singular - to think: <i>they</i> have it in them; yet not they, not mortal, only the - Eye above can read it,—as it shall unfold itself, in fire and - thunder, of siege, and field-artillery; in the rustling of - battle-banners, the tramp of hosts, in the glow of burning cities, the - shriek of strangled nations! Such things lie hidden, safe-wrapt in this - Fourth day of May;—say rather, had lain in some other unknown day, - of which this latter is the public fruit and outcome. As indeed what - wonders lie in every Day,—had we the sight, as happily we have not, - to decipher it: for is not every meanest Day “the conflux of two - Eternities!” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile, suppose we too, good Reader, should, as now without miracle - Muse Clio enables us—take <i>our</i> station also on some coign of - vantage; and glance momentarily over this Procession, and this Life-sea; - with far other eyes than the rest do, namely with prophetic? We can - mount, and stand there, without fear of falling. - </p> - - <p> - As for the Life-sea, or onlooking unnumbered Multitude, it is - unfortunately all-too dim. Yet as we gaze fixedly, do not nameless - Figures not a few, which shall not always be nameless, disclose - themselves; visible or presumable there! Young Baroness de - Staël—she evidently looks from a window; among older honourable - women.<a href="#linknote-130" name="linknoteref-130" - id="linknoteref-130">[130]</a> Her father is Minister, and one of the - gala personages; to his own eyes the chief one. Young spiritual Amazon, - thy rest is not there; nor thy loved Father’s: “as Malebranche saw all - things in God, so M. Necker sees all things in Necker,”—a theorem - that will not hold. - </p> - - <p> - But where is the brown-locked, light-behaved, fire-hearted Demoiselle - Théroigne? Brown eloquent Beauty; who, with thy winged words and glances, - shalt thrill rough bosoms, whole steel battalions, and persuade an - Austrian Kaiser,—pike and helm lie provided for thee in due season; - and, alas, also strait-waistcoat and long lodging in the Salpêtrière! - Better hadst thou staid in native Luxemburg, and been the mother of some - brave man’s children: but it was not thy task, it was not thy lot. - </p> - - <p> - Of the rougher sex how, without tongue, or hundred tongues, of iron, - enumerate the notabilities! Has not Marquis Valadi hastily quitted his - quaker broadbrim; his Pythagorean Greek in Wapping, and the city of - Glasgow?<a href="#linknote-131" name="linknoteref-131" - id="linknoteref-131">[131]</a> De Morande from his <i>Courrier de - l’Europe;</i> Linguet from his <i>Annales</i>, they looked eager through - the London fog, and became Ex-Editors,—that they might feed the - guillotine, and have their due. Does Louvet (of <i>Faublas</i>) stand - a-tiptoe? And Brissot, hight De Warville, friend of the Blacks? He, with - Marquis Condorcet, and Clavière the Genevese “have created the - <i>Moniteur</i> Newspaper,” or are about creating it. Able Editors must - give account of such a day. - </p> - - <p> - Or seest thou with any distinctness, low down probably, not in places of - honour, a Stanislas Maillard, riding-tipstaff (<i>huissier à cheval</i>) - of the Châtelet; one of the shiftiest of men? A Captain Hulin of Geneva, - Captain Elie of the Queen’s Regiment; both with an air of half-pay? - Jourdan, with tile-coloured whiskers, not yet with tile-beard; an unjust - dealer in mules? He shall be, in a few months, Jourdan the Headsman, and - have other work. - </p> - - <p> - Surely also, in some place not of honour, stands or sprawls up querulous, - that he too, though short, may see,—one squalidest bleared mortal, - redolent of soot and horse-drugs: Jean Paul Marat of Neuchâtel! O Marat, - Renovator of Human Science, Lecturer on Optics; O thou remarkablest - Horseleech, once in D’Artois’ Stables,—as thy bleared soul looks - forth, through thy bleared, dull-acrid, wo-stricken face, what sees it in - all this? Any faintest light of hope; like dayspring after Nova-Zembla - night? Or is it but <i>blue</i> sulphur-light, and spectres; woe, - suspicion, revenge without end? - </p> - - <p> - Of Draper Lecointre, how he shut his cloth-shop hard by, and stepped - forth, one need hardly speak. Nor of Santerre, the sonorous Brewer from - the Faubourg St. Antoine. Two other Figures, and only two, we signalise - there. The huge, brawny, Figure; through whose black brows, and rude - flattened face (<i>figure ecrasée</i>), there looks a waste energy as of - Hercules not yet furibund,—he is an esurient, unprovided Advocate; - Danton by name: him mark. Then that other, his slight-built comrade and - craft-brother; he with the long curling locks; with the face of dingy - blackguardism, wondrously irradiated with genius, as if a naphtha-lamp - burnt within it: that Figure is Camille Desmoulins. A fellow of infinite - shrewdness, wit, nay humour; one of the sprightliest clearest souls in - all these millions. Thou poor Camille, say of thee what they may, it were - but falsehood to pretend one did not almost love thee, thou headlong - lightly-sparkling man! But the brawny, not yet furibund Figure, we say, - is Jacques Danton; a name that shall be “tolerably known in the - Revolution.” He is President of the electoral Cordeliers District at - Paris, or about to be it; and shall open his lungs of brass. - </p> - - <p> - We dwell no longer on the mixed shouting Multitude: for now, behold, the - Commons Deputies are at hand! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Which of these Six Hundred individuals, in plain white cravat, that have - come up to regenerate France, might one guess would become their - <i>king?</i> For a king or leader they, as all bodies of men, must have: - be their work what it may, there is one man there who, by character, - faculty, position, is fittest of all to do it; that man, as future not - yet elected king, walks there among the rest. He with the thick black - locks, will it be? With the <i>hure</i>, as himself calls it, or black - <i>boar’s-head</i>, fit to be “shaken” as a senatorial portent? Through - whose shaggy beetle-brows, and rough-hewn, seamed, carbuncled face, there - look natural ugliness, small-pox, incontinence, bankruptcy,—and - burning fire of genius; like comet-fire glaring fuliginous through - murkiest confusions? It is <i>Gabriel Honoré Riquetti de Mirabeau</i>, - the world-compeller; man-ruling Deputy of Aix! According to the Baroness - de Staël, he steps proudly along, though looked at askance here, and - shakes his black <i>chevelure</i>, or lion’s-mane; as if prophetic of - great deeds. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, Reader, that is the Type-Frenchman of this epoch; as Voltaire was of - the last. He is French in his aspirations, acquisitions, in his virtues, - in his vices; perhaps more French than any other man;—and - intrinsically such a mass of manhood too. Mark him well. The National - Assembly were all different without that one; nay, he might say with the - old Despot: ‘The National Assembly? I am that.’ - </p> - - <p> - Of a southern climate, of wild southern blood: for the Riquettis, or - Arighettis, had to fly from Florence and the Guelfs, long centuries ago, - and settled in Provence; where from generation to generation they have - ever approved themselves a peculiar kindred: irascible, indomitable, - sharp-cutting, true, like the steel they wore; of an intensity and - activity that sometimes verged towards madness, yet did not reach it. One - ancient Riquetti, in mad fulfilment of a mad vow, chains two Mountains - together; and the chain, with its “iron star of five rays,” is still to - be seen. May not a modern Riquetti unchain so much, and set it - drifting,—which also shall be seen? - </p> - - <p> - Destiny has work for that swart burly-headed Mirabeau; Destiny has - watched over him, prepared him from afar. Did not his Grandfather, stout - <i>Col-d’Argent</i> (Silver-Stock, so they named him), shattered and - slashed by seven-and-twenty wounds in one fell day lie sunk together on - the Bridge at Casano; while Prince Eugene’s cavalry galloped and - regalloped over him,—only the flying sergeant had thrown a - camp-kettle over that loved head; and Vendôme, dropping his spyglass, - moaned out, “Mirabeau is <i>dead</i>, then!” Nevertheless he was not - dead: he awoke to breathe, and miraculous surgery;—for Gabriel was - yet to be. With his silver <i>stock</i> he kept his scarred head erect, - through long years; and wedded; and produced tough Marquis Victor, the - <i>Friend of Men</i>. Whereby at last in the appointed year 1749, this - long-expected rough-hewn Gabriel Honoré did likewise see the light: - roughest lion’s-whelp ever littered of that rough breed. How the old lion - (for our old Marquis too was lion-like, most unconquerable, - kingly-genial, most perverse) gazed wonderingly on his offspring; and - determined to train him as no lion had yet been! It is in vain, O - Marquis! This cub, though thou slay him and flay him, will not learn to - draw in dogcart of Political Economy, and be a <i>Friend of Men;</i> he - will not be Thou, must and will be Himself, another than Thou. Divorce - lawsuits, “whole family save one in prison, and three-score - <i>Lettres-de-Cachet</i>” for thy own sole use, do but astonish the - world. - </p> - - <p> - Our Luckless Gabriel, sinned against and sinning, has been in the Isle of - Rhe, and heard the Atlantic from his tower; in the Castle of If, and - heard the Mediterranean at Marseilles. He has been in the Fortress of - Joux; and forty-two months, with hardly clothing to his back, in the - Dungeon of Vincennes;—all by <i>Lettre-de-Cachet</i>, from his lion - father. He has been in Pontarlier Jails (self-constituted prisoner); was - noticed fording estuaries of the sea (at low water), in flight from the - face of men. He has pleaded before Aix Parlements (to get back his wife); - the public gathering on roofs, to see since they could not hear: ‘the - clatter-teeth (<i>claque-dents</i>)!’ snarles singular old Mirabeau; - discerning in such admired forensic eloquence nothing but two clattering - jaw-bones, and a head vacant, sonorous, of the drum species. - </p> - - <p> - But as for Gabriel Honoré, in these strange wayfarings, what has he not - seen and tried! From drill-sergeants, to prime-ministers, to foreign and - domestic booksellers, all manner of men he has seen. All manner of men he - has gained; for at bottom it is a social, loving heart, that wild - unconquerable one:—more especially all manner of women. From the - Archer’s Daughter at Saintes to that fair young Sophie Madame Monnier, - whom he could not but “steal,” and be beheaded for—in effigy! For - indeed hardly since the Arabian Prophet lay dead to Ali’s admiration, was - there seen such a Love-hero, with the strength of thirty men. In War, - again, he has helped to conquer Corsica; fought duels, irregular brawls; - horsewhipped calumnious barons. In Literature, he has written on - <i>Despotism</i>, on <i>Lettres-de-Cachet;</i> Erotics Sapphic-Werterean, - Obscenities, Profanities; Books on the <i>Prussian Monarchy</i>, on - <i>Cagliostro</i>, on <i>Calonne</i>, on <i>the Water Companies of - Paris:</i>—each book comparable, we will say, to a bituminous - alarum-fire; huge, smoky, sudden! The firepan, the kindling, the bitumen - were his own; but the lumber, of rags, old wood and nameless combustible - rubbish (for all is fuel to him), was gathered from huckster, and - ass-panniers, of every description under heaven. Whereby, indeed, - hucksters enough have been heard to exclaim: Out upon it, the fire is - <i>mine!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Nay, consider it more generally, seldom had man such a talent for - borrowing. The idea, the faculty of another man he can make his; the man - himself he can make his. ‘All reflex and echo (<i>tout de reflet et de - réverbère</i>)!’ snarls old Mirabeau, who can see, but will not. Crabbed - old Friend of Men! it is his sociality, his aggregative nature; and will - now be the quality of all for him. In that forty-years “struggle against - despotism,” he has gained the glorious faculty of <i>self-help</i>, and - yet not lost the glorious natural gift of <i>fellowship</i>, of being - helped. Rare union! This man can live self-sufficing—yet lives also - in the life of other men; can make men love him, work with him: a born - king of men! - </p> - - <p> - But consider further how, as the old Marquis still snarls, he has ‘made - away with (<i>humé</i>, swallowed) all <i>Formulas;</i>’—a fact - which, if we meditate it, will in these days mean much. This is no man of - system, then; he is only a man of instincts and insights. A man - nevertheless who will glare fiercely on any object; and see through it, - and conquer it: for he has intellect, he has will, force beyond other - men. A man not with <i>logic-spectacles;</i> but with an <i>eye!</i> - Unhappily without Decalogue, moral Code or Theorem of any fixed sort; yet - not without a strong living Soul in him, and Sincerity there: a Reality, - not an Artificiality, not a Sham! And so he, having struggled “forty - years against despotism,” and “made away with all formulas,” shall now - become the spokesman of a Nation bent to do the same. For is it not - precisely the struggle of France also to cast off despotism; to make away - with <i>her</i> old formulas,—having found them naught, worn out, - far from the reality? She will make away with <i>such</i> - formulas;—and even go <i>bare</i>, if need be, till she have found - new ones. - </p> - - <p> - Towards such work, in such manner, marches he, this singular Riquetti - Mirabeau. In fiery rough figure, with black Samson-locks under the - slouch-hat, he steps along there. A fiery fuliginous mass, which could - not be choked and smothered, but would fill all France with smoke. And - now it has got <i>air;</i> it will burn its whole substance, its whole - smoke-atmosphere too, and fill all France with flame. Strange lot! Forty - years of that smouldering, with foul fire-damp and vapour enough, then - victory over that;—and like a burning mountain he blazes - heaven-high; and, for twenty-three resplendent months, pours out, in - flame and molten fire-torrents, all that is in him, the Pharos and - Wonder-sign of an amazed Europe;—and then lies hollow, cold - forever! Pass on, thou questionable Gabriel Honoré, the greatest of them - all: in the whole National Deputies, in the whole Nation, there is none - like and none second to thee. - </p> - - <p> - But now if Mirabeau is the greatest, who of these Six Hundred may be the - meanest? Shall we say, that anxious, slight, ineffectual-looking man, - under thirty, in spectacles; his eyes (were the glasses off) troubled, - careful; with upturned face, snuffing dimly the uncertain future-time; - complexion of a multiplex atrabiliar colour, the final shade of which may - be the pale sea-green.<a href="#linknote-132" name="linknoteref-132" - id="linknoteref-132">[132]</a> That greenish-coloured (<i>verdâtre</i>) - individual is an Advocate of Arras; his name is <i>Maximilien - Robespierre</i>. The son of an Advocate; his father founded mason-lodges - under Charles Edward, the English Prince or Pretender. Maximilien the - first-born was thriftily educated; he had brisk Camille Desmoulins for - schoolmate in the College of Louis le Grand, at Paris. But he begged our - famed Necklace-Cardinal, Rohan, the patron, to let him depart thence, and - resign in favour of a younger brother. The strict-minded Max departed; - home to paternal Arras; and even had a Law-case there and pleaded, not - unsuccessfully, “in favour of the first Franklin thunder-rod.” With a - strict painful mind, an understanding small but clear and ready, he grew - in favour with official persons, who could foresee in him an excellent - man of business, happily quite free from genius. The Bishop, therefore, - taking counsel, appoints him Judge of his diocese; and he faithfully does - justice to the people: till behold, one day, a culprit comes whose crime - merits hanging; and the strict-minded Max must abdicate, for his - conscience will not permit the dooming of any son of Adam to die. A - strict-minded, strait-laced man! A man unfit for Revolutions? Whose small - soul, transparent wholesome-looking as small ale, could by no chance - ferment into virulent <i>alegar</i>,—the mother of ever new alegar; - till all France were grown acetous virulent? We shall see. - </p> - - <p> - Between which two extremes of grandest and meanest, so many grand and - mean roll on, towards their several destinies, in that Procession! There - is <i>Cazalès</i>, the learned young soldier; who shall become the - eloquent orator of Royalism, and earn the shadow of a name. Experienced - <i>Mounier</i>, experienced <i>Malouet;</i> whose Presidential - Parlementary experience the stream of things shall soon leave stranded. A - Pétion has left his gown and briefs at Chartres for a stormier sort of - pleading; has not forgotten his violin, being fond of music. His hair is - grizzled, though he is still young: convictions, beliefs, - placid-unalterable are in that man; not hindmost of them, belief in - himself. A Protestant-clerical <i>Rabaut-St.-Etienne</i>, a slender young - eloquent and vehement <i>Barnave</i>, will help to regenerate France. - There are so many of them young. Till thirty the Spartans did not suffer - a man to marry: but how many men here under thirty; coming to produce not - one sufficient citizen, but a nation and a world of such! The old to heal - up rents; the young to remove rubbish:—which latter, is it not, - indeed, the task here? - </p> - - <p> - Dim, formless from this distance, yet authentically there, thou noticest - the Deputies from Nantes? To us mere clothes-screens, with slouch-hat and - cloak, but bearing in their pocket a <i>Cahier</i> of <i>doléances</i> - with this singular clause, and more such in it: “That the master - wigmakers of Nantes be not troubled with new gild-brethren, the actually - existing number of ninety-two being more than sufficient!”<a - href="#linknote-133" name="linknoteref-133" - id="linknoteref-133">[133]</a> The Rennes people have elected Farmer - <i>Gérard</i>, “a man of natural sense and rectitude, without any - learning.” He walks there, with solid step; unique, “in his rustic - farmer-clothes;” which he will wear always; careless of short-cloaks and - costumes. The name Gérard, or “<i>Père Gérard</i>, Father Gérard,” as - they please to call him, will fly far; borne about in endless banter; in - Royalist satires, in Republican didactic Almanacks.<a - href="#linknote-134" name="linknoteref-134" - id="linknoteref-134">[134]</a> As for the man Gerard, being asked once, - what he did, after trial of it, candidly think of this Parlementary - work,—‘I think,’ answered he, ‘that there are a good many - scoundrels among us.’ so walks Father Gérard; solid in his thick shoes, - whithersoever bound. - </p> - - <p> - And worthy <i>Doctor Guillotin</i>, whom we hoped to behold one other - time? If not here, the Doctor should be here, and we see him with the eye - of prophecy: for indeed the Parisian Deputies are all a little late. - Singular Guillotin, respectable practitioner: doomed by a satiric destiny - to the strangest immortal glory that ever kept obscure mortal from his - resting-place, the bosom of oblivion! Guillotin can improve the - ventilation of the Hall; in all cases of medical police and - <i>hygiène</i> be a present aid: but, greater far, he can produce his - “Report on the Penal Code;” and reveal therein a cunningly devised - Beheading Machine, which shall become famous and world-famous. This is - the product of Guillotin’s endeavours, gained not without meditation and - reading; which product popular gratitude or levity christens by a - feminine derivative name, as if it were his daughter: <i>La - Guillotine!</i> ‘With my machine, Messieurs, I whisk off your head - (<i>vous fais sauter la tête</i>) in a twinkling, and you have no - pain;’—whereat they all laugh.<a href="#linknote-135" - name="linknoteref-135" id="linknoteref-135">[135]</a> Unfortunate Doctor! - For two-and-twenty years he, unguillotined, shall hear nothing but - guillotine, see nothing but guillotine; then dying, shall through long - centuries wander, as it were, a disconsolate ghost, on the wrong side of - Styx and Lethe; his name like to outlive Cæsar’s. - </p> - - <p> - See <i>Bailly</i>, likewise of Paris, time-honoured Historian of - Astronomy Ancient and Modern. Poor Bailly, how thy serenely beautiful - Philosophising, with its soft moonshiny clearness and thinness, ends in - foul thick confusion—of Presidency, Mayorship, diplomatic - Officiality, rabid Triviality, and the throat of everlasting Darkness! - Far was it to descend from the heavenly Galaxy to the <i>Drapeau - Rouge:</i> beside that fatal dung-heap, on that last hell-day, thou must - “tremble,” though only with cold, “<i>de froid</i>.” Speculation is not - practice: to be weak is not so miserable; but to be weaker than our task. - Wo the day when they mounted thee, a peaceable pedestrian, on that wild - Hippogriff of a Democracy; which, spurning the firm earth, nay lashing at - the very <i>stars</i>, no yet known Astolpho could have ridden! - </p> - - <p> - In the Commons Deputies there are Merchants, Artists, Men of Letters; - three hundred and seventy-four Lawyers;<a href="#linknote-136" - name="linknoteref-136" id="linknoteref-136">[136]</a> and at least one - Clergyman: the <i>Abbé Sieyes</i>. Him also Paris sends, among its - twenty. Behold him, the light thin man; cold, but elastic, wiry; instinct - with the pride of Logic; passionless, or with but one passion, that of - self-conceit. If indeed that can be called a passion, which, in its - independent concentrated greatness, seems to have soared into - transcendentalism; and to sit there with a kind of godlike indifference, - and look down on passion! He is the man, and wisdom shall die with him. - This is the Sieyes who shall be System-builder, Constitution-builder - General; and build Constitutions (as many as wanted) skyhigh,—which - shall all unfortunately fall before he get the scaffolding away. ‘<i>La - Politique</i>,’ said he to Dumont, ‘Polity is a science I think I have - completed (<i>achevée</i>).’<a href="#linknote-137" - name="linknoteref-137" id="linknoteref-137">[137]</a> What things, O - Sieyes, with thy clear assiduous eyes, art thou to see! But were it not - curious to know how Sieyes, now in these days (for he is said to be still - alive)<a href="#linknote-138" name="linknoteref-138" - id="linknoteref-138">[138]</a> looks out on all that Constitution - masonry, through the rheumy soberness of extreme age? Might we hope, - still with the old irrefragable transcendentalism? The victorious cause - pleased the gods, the vanquished one pleased Sieyes (<i>victa - Catoni</i>). - </p> - - <p> - Thus, however, amid skyrending vivats, and blessings from every heart, - has the Procession of the Commons Deputies rolled by. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Next follow the Noblesse, and next the Clergy; concerning both of whom it - might be asked, What they specially have come for? Specially, little as - they dream of it, to answer this question, put in a voice of thunder: - What are you doing in God’s fair Earth and Task-garden; where whosoever - is not working is begging or stealing? Wo, wo to themselves and to all, - if they can only answer: Collecting tithes, Preserving - game!—Remark, meanwhile, how <i>D’Orléans</i> affects to step - before his own Order, and mingle with the Commons. For him are - <i>vivats:</i> few for the rest, though all wave in plumed “hats of a - feudal cut,” and have sword on thigh; though among them is - <i>D’Antraigues</i>, the young Languedocian gentleman,—and indeed - many a Peer more or less noteworthy. - </p> - - <p> - There are <i>Liancourt</i>, and <i>La Rochefoucault;</i> the liberal - Anglomaniac Dukes. There is a filially pious <i>Lally;</i> a couple of - liberal <i>Lameths</i>. Above all, there is a <i>Lafayette;</i> whose - name shall be Cromwell-Grandison, and fill the world. Many a “formula” - has this Lafayette too made away with; yet not <i>all</i> formulas. He - sticks by the Washington-formula; and by that he will stick;—and - hang by it, as by sure bower-anchor hangs and swings the tight war-ship, - which, after all changes of wildest weather and water, is found still - hanging. Happy for him; be it glorious or not! Alone of all Frenchmen he - has a theory of the world, and right mind to conform thereto; he can - become a hero and perfect character, were it but the hero of one idea. - Note further our old Parlementary friend, <i>Crispin-Catiline - d’Espréménil</i>. He is returned from the Mediterranean Islands, a redhot - royalist, repentant to the finger-ends;—unsettled-looking; whose - light, dusky-glowing at best, now flickers foul in the socket; whom the - National Assembly will by and by, to save time, “regard as in a state of - distraction.” Note lastly that globular <i>Younger</i> Mirabeau; - indignant that his elder Brother is among the Commons: it is - <i>Viscomte</i> Mirabeau; named oftener Mirabeau <i>Tonneau</i> (Barrel - Mirabeau), on account of his rotundity, and the quantities of strong - liquor he contains. - </p> - - <p> - There then walks our French Noblesse. All in the old pomp of chivalry: - and yet, alas, how changed from the old position; drifted far down from - their native latitude, like Arctic icebergs got into the Equatorial sea, - and fast thawing there! Once these Chivalry <i>Duces</i> (Dukes, as they - are still named) did actually <i>lead</i> the world,—were it only - towards battle-spoil, where lay the world’s best wages then: moreover, - being the ablest Leaders going, they had their lion’s share, those - <i>Duces;</i> which none could grudge them. But now, when so many Looms, - improved Ploughshares, Steam-Engines and Bills of Exchange have been - invented; and, for battle-brawling itself, men hire Drill-Sergeants at - eighteen-pence a-day,—what mean these goldmantled Chivalry Figures, - walking there “in black-velvet cloaks,” in high-plumed “hats of a feudal - cut”? Reeds shaken in the wind! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The Clergy have got up; with <i>Cahiers</i> for abolishing pluralities, - enforcing residence of bishops, better payment of tithes.<a - href="#linknote-139" name="linknoteref-139" - id="linknoteref-139">[139]</a> The Dignitaries, we can observe, walk - stately, apart from the numerous Undignified,—who indeed are - properly little other than Commons disguised in Curate-frocks. Here, - however, though by strange ways, shall the Precept be fulfilled, and they - that are greatest (much to their astonishment) become least. For one - example, out of many, mark that plausible <i>Grégoire:</i> one day Curé - Grégoire shall be a Bishop, when the now stately are wandering - distracted, as Bishops <i>in partibus</i>. With other thought, mark also - the <i>Abbé Maury:</i> his broad bold face; mouth accurately primmed; - full eyes, that ray out intelligence, falsehood,—the sort of - sophistry which is astonished you should find it sophistical. Skilfulest - vamper-up of old rotten leather, to make it look like new; always a - rising man; he used to tell Mercier, ‘You will see; I shall be in the - Academy before you.’<a href="#linknote-140" name="linknoteref-140" - id="linknoteref-140">[140]</a> Likely indeed, thou skilfullest Maury; nay - thou shalt have a Cardinal’s Hat, and plush and glory; but alas, also, in - the longrun—mere oblivion, like the rest of us; and six feet of - earth! What boots it, vamping rotten leather on these terms? Glorious in - comparison is the livelihood thy good old Father earns, by making - shoes,—one may hope, in a sufficient manner. Maury does not want - for audacity. He shall wear pistols, by and by; and at death-cries of - ‘<i>La Lanterne</i>, The Lamp-iron;’ answer coolly, ‘Friends, will you - see better there?’ - </p> - - <p> - But yonder, halting lamely along, thou noticest next <i>Bishop - Talleyrand-Perigord</i>, his Reverence of Autun. A sardonic grimness lies - in that irreverent Reverence of Autun. He will do and suffer strange - things; and will <i>become</i> surely one of the strangest things ever - seen, or like to be seen. A man living in falsehood, and on falsehood; - yet not what you can call a false man: there is the specialty! It will be - an enigma for future ages, one may hope: hitherto such a product of - Nature and Art was possible only for this age of ours,—Age of - Paper, and of the Burning of Paper. Consider Bishop Talleyrand and - Marquis Lafayette as the topmost of their two kinds; and say once more, - looking at what they did and what they were, <i>O Tempus ferax rerum!</i> - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, however, has not this unfortunate Clergy also drifted in - the Time-stream, far from its native latitude? An anomalous mass of men; - of whom the whole world has already a dim understanding that it can - understand nothing. They were once a Priesthood, interpreters of Wisdom, - revealers of the Holy that is in Man: a true <i>Clerus</i> (or - Inheritance of God on Earth): but now?—They pass silently, with - such <i>Cahiers</i> as they have been able to redact; and none cries, God - bless them. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - King Louis with his Court brings up the rear: he cheerful, in this day of - hope, is saluted with plaudits; still more Necker his Minister. Not so - the Queen; on whom hope shines not steadily any more. Ill-fated Queen! - Her hair is already gray with many cares and crosses; her first-born son - is dying in these weeks: black falsehood has ineffaceably soiled her - name; ineffaceably while this generation lasts. Instead of <i>Vive la - Reine</i>, voices insult her with <i>Vive d’Orléans</i>. Of her queenly - beauty little remains except its stateliness; not now gracious, but - haughty, rigid, silently enduring. With a most mixed feeling, wherein joy - has no part, she resigns herself to a day she hoped never to have seen. - Poor Marie Antoinette; with thy quick noble instincts; vehement - glancings, vision all-too fitful narrow for the work thou hast to do! O - there are tears in store for thee; bitterest wailings, soft womanly - meltings, though thou hast the heart of an imperial Theresa’s Daughter. - Thou doomed one, shut thy eyes on the future!— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And so, in stately Procession, have passed the Elected of France. Some - towards honour and quick fire-consummation; most towards dishonour; not a - few towards massacre, confusion, emigration, desperation: all towards - Eternity!—So many heterogeneities cast together into the - fermenting-vat; there, with incalculable action, counteraction, elective - affinities, explosive developments, to work out healing for a sick - moribund System of Society! Probably the strangest Body of Men, if we - consider well, that ever met together on our Planet on such an errand. So - thousandfold complex a Society, ready to burst-up from its infinite - depths; and these men, its rulers and healers, without life-rule for - themselves,—other life-rule than a Gospel according to Jean - Jacques! To the wisest of them, what we must call the wisest, man is - properly an Accident under the sky. Man is without Duty round him; except - it be “to make the Constitution.” He is without Heaven above him, or Hell - beneath him; he has no God in the world. - </p> - - <p> - What further or better belief can be said to exist in these Twelve - Hundred? Belief in high-plumed hats of a feudal cut; in heraldic - scutcheons; in the divine right of Kings, in the divine right of - Game-destroyers. Belief, or what is still worse, canting half-belief; or - worst of all, mere Macchiavellic pretence-of-belief,—in consecrated - dough-wafers, and the godhood of a poor old Italian Man! Nevertheless in - that immeasurable Confusion and Corruption, which struggles there so - blindly to become less confused and corrupt, there is, as we said, this - one salient point of a New Life discernible: the deep fixed Determination - to have done with Shams. A determination, which, consciously or - unconsciously, is <i>fixed;</i> which waxes ever more fixed, into very - madness and fixed-idea; which in such embodiment as lies provided there, - shall now unfold itself rapidly: monstrous, stupendous, unspeakable; new - for long thousands of years!—How has the Heaven’s <i>light</i>, - oftentimes in this Earth, to clothe itself in thunder and electric - murkiness; and descend as molten <i>lightning</i>, blasting, if - purifying! Nay is it not rather the very murkiness, and atmospheric - suffocation, that <i>brings</i> the lightning and the light? The new - Evangel, as the old had been, was it to be born in the Destruction of a - World? - </p> - - <p> - But how the Deputies assisted at High Mass, and heard sermon, and - applauded the preacher, church as it was, when he preached politics; how, - next day, with sustained pomp, they are, for the first time, installed in - their <i>Salles des Menus</i> (Hall no longer of <i>Amusements</i>), and - become a States-General,—readers can fancy for themselves. The King - from his <i>estrade</i>, gorgeous as Solomon in all his glory, runs his - eye over that majestic Hall; many-plumed, many-glancing; bright-tinted as - rainbow, in the galleries and near side spaces, where Beauty sits raining - bright influence. Satisfaction, as of one that after long voyaging had - got to port, plays over his broad simple face: the innocent King! He - rises and speaks, with sonorous tone, a conceivable speech. With which, - still more with the succeeding one-hour and two-hour speeches of - Garde-des-Sceaux and M. Necker, full of nothing but patriotism, hope, - faith, and deficiency of the revenue,—no reader of these pages - shall be tried. - </p> - - <p> - We remark only that, as his Majesty, on finishing the speech, put on his - plumed hat, and the Noblesse according to custom imitated him, our - Tiers-Etat Deputies did mostly, not without a shade of fierceness, in - like manner clap-on, and even crush on their slouched hats; and stand - there awaiting the issue.<a href="#linknote-141" name="linknoteref-141" - id="linknoteref-141">[141]</a> Thick buzz among them, between majority - and minority of <i>Couvrezvous, Décrouvrez-vous</i> (Hats off, Hats on)! - To which his Majesty puts end, by taking <i>off</i> his own royal hat - again. - </p> - - <p> - The session terminates without further accident or omen than this; with - which, significantly enough, France has opened her States-General. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"></a> - BOOK 1.V.<br/> - THE THIRD ESTATE - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"></a> - Chapter 1.5.I.<br/> - Inertia. - </h3> - - <p> - That exasperated France, in this same National Assembly of hers, has got - something, nay something great, momentous, indispensable, cannot be - doubted; yet still the question were: Specially <i>what?</i> A question - hard to solve, even for calm onlookers at this distance; wholly insoluble - to actors in the middle of it. The States-General, created and conflated - by the passionate effort of the whole nation, is there as a thing high - and lifted up. Hope, jubilating, cries aloud that it will prove a - miraculous Brazen Serpent in the Wilderness; whereon whosoever looks, - with faith and obedience, shall be healed of all woes and serpent-bites. - </p> - - <p> - We may answer, it will at least prove a symbolic Banner; round which the - exasperating complaining Twenty-Five Millions, otherwise isolated and - without power, may rally, and work—what it is in them to work. If - battle must be the work, as one cannot help expecting, then shall it be a - battle-banner (say, an Italian Gonfalon, in its old Republican - <i>Carroccio</i>); and shall tower up, car-borne, shining in the wind: - and with iron tongue peal forth many a signal. A thing of prime - necessity; which whether in the van or in the centre, whether leading or - led and driven, must do the fighting multitude incalculable services. For - a season, while it floats in the very front, nay as it were stands - solitary there, waiting whether force will gather round it, this same - National <i>Carroccio</i>, and the signal-peals it rings, are a main - object with us. - </p> - - <p> - The omen of the “slouch-hats clapt on” shows the Commons Deputies to have - made up their minds on one thing: that neither Noblesse nor Clergy shall - have precedence of them; hardly even Majesty itself. To such length has - the <i>Contrat Social</i>, and force of public opinion, carried us. For - what is Majesty but the Delegate of the Nation; delegated, and bargained - with (even rather tightly),—in some very singular posture of - affairs, which Jean Jacques has not fixed the date of? - </p> - - <p> - Coming therefore into their Hall, on the morrow, an inorganic mass of Six - Hundred individuals, these Commons Deputies perceive, without terror, - that they have it all to themselves. Their Hall is also the Grand or - general Hall for all the Three Orders. But the Noblesse and Clergy, it - would seem, have retired to their two separate Apartments, or Halls; and - are there “verifying their powers,” not in a conjoint but in a separate - capacity. They are to constitute two separate, perhaps separately-voting - Orders, then? It is as if both Noblesse and Clergy had silently taken for - granted that they already were such! Two Orders against one; and so the - Third Order to be left in a perpetual minority? - </p> - - <p> - Much may remain unfixed; but the negative of that is a thing fixed: in - the Slouch-hatted heads, in the French Nation’s head. Double - representation, and all else hitherto gained, were otherwise futile, - null. Doubtless, the “powers must be verified;”—doubtless, the - Commission, the electoral Documents of your Deputy must be inspected by - his brother Deputies, and found valid: it is the preliminary of all. - Neither is this question, of doing it separately or doing it conjointly, - a vital one: but if it lead to such? It must be resisted; wise was that - maxim, Resist the beginnings! Nay were resistance unadvisable, even - dangerous, yet surely pause is very natural: pause, with Twenty-five - Millions behind you, may become resistance enough.—The inorganic - mass of Commons Deputies will restrict itself to a “system of inertia,” - and for the present remain inorganic. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Such method, recommendable alike to sagacity and to timidity, do the - Commons Deputies adopt; and, not without adroitness, and with ever more - tenacity, they persist in it, day after day, week after week. For six - weeks their history is of the kind named barren; which indeed, as - Philosophy knows, is often the fruitfulest of all. These were their still - creation-days; wherein they sat incubating! In fact, what they did was to - do nothing, in a judicious manner. Daily the inorganic body reassembles; - regrets that they cannot get organisation, “verification of powers in - common, and begin regenerating France. Headlong motions may be made, but - let such be repressed; inertia alone is at once unpunishable and - unconquerable. - </p> - - <p> - Cunning must be met by cunning; proud pretension by inertia, by a low - tone of patriotic sorrow; low, but incurable, unalterable. Wise as - serpents; harmless as doves: what a spectacle for France! Six Hundred - inorganic individuals, essential for its regeneration and salvation, sit - there, on their elliptic benches, longing passionately towards life; in - painful durance; like souls waiting to be born. Speeches are spoken; - eloquent; audible within doors and without. Mind agitates itself against - mind; the Nation looks on with ever deeper interest. Thus do the Commons - Deputies sit incubating. - </p> - - <p> - There are private conclaves, supper-parties, consultations; Breton Club, - Club of Viroflay; germs of many Clubs. Wholly an element of confused - noise, dimness, angry heat;—wherein, however, the Eros-egg, kept at - the fit temperature, may hover safe, unbroken till it be hatched. In your - Mouniers, Malouets, Lechapeliers in science sufficient for that; fervour - in your Barnaves, Rabauts. At times shall come an inspiration from royal - Mirabeau: he is nowise yet recognised as royal; nay he was “groaned at,” - when his name was first mentioned: but he is struggling towards - recognition. - </p> - - <p> - In the course of the week, the Commons having called their Eldest to the - chair, and furnished him with young stronger-lunged assistants,—can - speak articulately; and, in audible lamentable words, declare, as we - said, that they are an inorganic body, longing to become organic. Letters - arrive; but an inorganic body cannot open letters; they lie on the table - unopened. The Eldest may at most procure for himself some kind of List or - Muster-roll, to take the votes by, and wait what will betide. Noblesse - and Clergy are all elsewhere: however, an eager public crowds all - galleries and vacancies; which is some comfort. With effort, it is - determined, not that a Deputation shall be sent,—for how can an - inorganic body send deputations?—but that certain individual - Commons Members shall, in an accidental way, stroll into the Clergy - Chamber, and then into the Noblesse one; and mention there, as a thing - they have happened to observe, that the Commons seem to be sitting - waiting for them, in order to verify their powers. That is the wiser - method! - </p> - - <p> - The Clergy, among whom are such a multitude of Undignified, of mere - Commons in Curates’ frocks, depute instant respectful answer that they - are, and will now more than ever be, in deepest study as to that very - matter. Contrariwise the Noblesse, in cavalier attitude, reply, after - four days, that they, for their part, are all verified and constituted; - which, they had trusted, the Commons also were; such <i>separate</i> - verification being clearly the proper constitutional wisdom-of-ancestors - method;—as they the Noblesse will have much pleasure in - demonstrating by a Commission of their number, if the Commons will meet - them, Commission against Commission! Directly in the rear of which comes - a deputation of Clergy, reiterating, in their insidious conciliatory way, - the same proposal. Here, then, is a complexity: what will wise Commons - say to this? - </p> - - <p> - Warily, inertly, the wise Commons, considering that they are, if not a - French Third Estate, at least an Aggregate of individuals pretending to - some title of that kind, determine, after talking on it five days, to - name such a Commission,—though, as it were, with proviso not to be - convinced: a sixth day is taken up in naming it; a seventh and an eighth - day in getting the forms of meeting, place, hour and the like, settled: - so that it is not till the evening of the 23rd of May that Noblesse - Commission first meets Commons Commission, Clergy acting as Conciliators; - and begins the impossible task of convincing it. One other meeting, on - the 25th, will suffice: the Commons are inconvincible, the Noblesse and - Clergy irrefragably convincing; the Commissions retire; each Order - persisting in its first pretensions.<a href="#linknote-142" - name="linknoteref-142" id="linknoteref-142">[142]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Thus have three weeks passed. For three weeks, the Third-Estate - Carroccio, with far-seen Gonfalon, has stood stockstill, flouting the - wind; waiting what force would gather round it. - </p> - - <p> - Fancy can conceive the feeling of the Court; and how counsel met counsel, - the loud-sounding inanity whirled in that distracted vortex, where wisdom - could not dwell. Your cunningly devised Taxing-Machine has been got - together; set up with incredible labour; and stands there, its three - pieces in contact; its two fly-wheels of Noblesse and Clergy, its huge - working-wheel of Tiers-Etat. The two fly-wheels whirl in the softest - manner; but, prodigious to look upon, the huge working-wheel hangs - motionless, refuses to stir! The cunningest engineers are at fault. How - <i>will</i> it work, when it does begin? Fearfully, my Friends; and to - many purposes; but to gather taxes, or grind court-meal, one may - apprehend, never. Could we but have continued gathering taxes <i>by - hand!</i> Messeigneurs d’Artois, Conti, Condé (named Court Triumvirate), - they of the anti-democratic <i>Mémoire au Roi</i>, has not their - foreboding proved true? They may wave reproachfully their high heads; - they may beat their poor brains; but the cunningest engineers can do - nothing. Necker himself, were he even listened to, begins to look blue. - The only thing one sees advisable is to bring up soldiers. New regiments, - two, and a battalion of a third, have already reached Paris; others shall - get in march. Good were it, in all circumstances, to have troops within - reach; good that the command were in sure hands. Let Broglie be - appointed; old Marshal Duke de Broglie; veteran disciplinarian, of a firm - drill-sergeant morality, such as may be depended on. - </p> - - <p> - For, alas, neither are the Clergy, or the very Noblesse what they should - be; and might be, when so menaced from without: entire, undivided within. - The Noblesse, indeed, have their Catiline or Crispin D’Espréménil, - dusky-glowing, all in renegade heat; their boisterous Barrel-Mirabeau; - but also they have their Lafayettes, Liancourts, Lameths; above all, - their D’Orléans, now cut forever from his Court-moorings, and musing - drowsily of high and highest sea-prizes (for is not he too a son of Henri - Quatre, and partial potential Heir-Apparent?)—on his voyage towards - Chaos. From the Clergy again, so numerous are the Curés, actual deserters - have run over: two small parties; in the second party Curé Gregoire. Nay - there is talk of a whole Hundred and Forty-nine of them about to desert - in mass, and only restrained by an Archbishop of Paris. It seems a losing - game. - </p> - - <p> - But judge if France, if Paris sat idle, all this while! Addresses from - far and near flow in: for our Commons have now grown organic enough to - open letters. Or indeed to cavil at them! Thus poor Marquis de Brézé, - Supreme Usher, Master of Ceremonies, or whatever his title was, writing - about this time on some ceremonial matter, sees no harm in winding up - with a “Monsieur, yours with sincere attachment.”—‘To whom does it - address itself, this sincere attachment?’ inquires Mirabeau. ‘To the Dean - of the Tiers-Etat.’—‘There is no man in France entitled to write - that,’ rejoins he; whereat the Galleries and the World will not be kept - from applauding.<a href="#linknote-143" name="linknoteref-143" - id="linknoteref-143">[143]</a> Poor De Brézé! These Commons have a still - older grudge at him; nor has he yet done with them. - </p> - - <p> - In another way, Mirabeau has had to protest against the quick suppression - of his Newspaper, <i>Journal of the States-General;</i>—and to - continue it under a new name. In which act of valour, the Paris Electors, - still busy redacting their <i>Cahier</i>, could not but support him, by - Address to his Majesty: they claim utmost “provisory freedom of the - press;” they have spoken even about demolishing the Bastille, and - erecting a Bronze Patriot King on the site!—These are the rich - Burghers: but now consider how it went, for example, with such loose - miscellany, now all grown eleutheromaniac, of Loungers, Prowlers, social - Nondescripts (and the distilled Rascality of our Planet), as whirls - forever in the Palais Royal;—or what low infinite groan, first - changing into a growl, comes from Saint-Antoine, and the Twenty-five - Millions in danger of starvation! - </p> - - <p> - There is the indisputablest scarcity of corn;—be it - Aristocrat-plot, D’Orléans-plot, of this year; or drought and hail of - last year: in city and province, the poor man looks desolately towards a - nameless lot. And this States-General, that could make us an age of gold, - is forced to stand motionless; cannot get its powers verified! All - industry necessarily languishes, if it be not that of making motions. - </p> - - <p> - In the Palais Royal there has been erected, apparently by subscription, a - kind of Wooden Tent (<i>en planches de bois</i>);<a href="#linknote-144" - name="linknoteref-144" id="linknoteref-144">[144]</a>—most - convenient; where select Patriotism can now redact resolutions, deliver - harangues, with comfort, let the weather but as it will. Lively is that - Satan-at-Home! On his table, on his chair, in every <i>café</i>, stands a - patriotic orator; a crowd round him within; a crowd listening from - without, open-mouthed, through open door and window; with “thunders of - applause for every sentiment of more than common hardiness.” In Monsieur - Dessein’s Pamphlet-shop, close by, you cannot without strong elbowing get - to the counter: every hour produces its pamphlet, or litter of pamphlets; - “there were thirteen today, sixteen yesterday, nine-two last week.”<a - href="#linknote-145" name="linknoteref-145" - id="linknoteref-145">[145]</a> Think of Tyranny and Scarcity; - Fervid-eloquence, Rumour, Pamphleteering; <i>Societé Publicole</i>, - Breton Club, Enraged Club;—and whether every tap-room, coffee-room, - social reunion, accidental street-group, over wide France, was not an - Enraged Club! - </p> - - <p> - To all which the Commons Deputies can only listen with a sublime inertia - of sorrow; reduced to busy themselves “with their internal police.” Surer - position no Deputies ever occupied; if they keep it with skill. Let not - the temperature rise too high; break not the Eros-egg till it be hatched, - till it break itself! An eager public crowds all Galleries and vacancies! - “cannot be restrained from applauding.” The two Privileged Orders, the - Noblesse all verified and constituted, may look on with what face they - will; not without a secret tremor of heart. The Clergy, always acting the - part of conciliators, make a clutch at the Galleries, and the popularity - there; and miss it. Deputation of them arrives, with dolorous message - about the “dearth of grains,” and the necessity there is of casting aside - vain formalities, and deliberating on this. An insidious proposal; which, - however, the Commons (moved thereto by seagreen Robespierre) dexterously - accept as a sort of hint, or even pledge, that the Clergy will forthwith - come over to them, constitute the States-General, and so cheapen - grains!<a href="#linknote-146" name="linknoteref-146" - id="linknoteref-146">[146]</a>—Finally, on the 27th day of May, - Mirabeau, judging the time now nearly come, proposes that “the inertia - cease;” that, leaving the Noblesse to their own stiff ways, the Clergy be - summoned, “in the name of the God of Peace,” to join the Commons, and - begin.<a href="#linknote-147" name="linknoteref-147" - id="linknoteref-147">[147]</a> To which summons if they turn a deaf - ear,—we shall see! Are not one Hundred and Forty-nine of them ready - to desert? - </p> - - <p> - O Triumvirate of Princes, new Garde-des-Sceaux Barentin, thou - Home-Secretary Bréteuil, Duchess Polignac, and Queen eager to - listen,—what is now to be done? This Third Estate will get in - motion, with the force of all France in it; Clergy-machinery with - Noblesse-machinery, which were to serve as beautiful counter-balances and - drags, will be shamefully dragged after it,—and take fire along - with it. What is to be done? The Œil-de-Bœuf waxes more confused than - ever. Whisper and counter-whisper; a very tempest of whispers! Leading - men from all the Three Orders are nightly spirited thither; conjurors - many of them; but can they conjure this? Necker himself were now welcome, - could he interfere to purpose. - </p> - - <p> - Let Necker interfere, then; and in the King’s name! Happily that - incendiary “God-of-Peace” message is not yet <i>answered</i>. The Three - Orders shall again have conferences; under this Patriot Minister of - theirs, somewhat may be healed, clouted up;—we meanwhile getting - forward Swiss Regiments, and a “hundred pieces of field-artillery.” This - is what the Œil-de-Bœuf, for its part, resolves on. - </p> - - <p> - But as for Necker—Alas, poor Necker, thy obstinate Third Estate has - one first-last word, <i>verification in common</i>, as the pledge of - voting and deliberating in common! Half-way proposals, from such a tried - friend, they answer with a stare. The tardy conferences speedily break - up; the Third Estate, now ready and resolute, the whole world backing it, - returns to its Hall of the Three Orders; and Necker to the Œil-de-Bœuf, - with the character of a disconjured conjuror there—fit only for - dismissal.<a href="#linknote-148" name="linknoteref-148" - id="linknoteref-148">[148]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so the Commons Deputies are at last on their own strength getting - under way? Instead of Chairman, or Dean, they have now got a President: - Astronomer Bailly. Under way, with a vengeance! With endless vociferous - and temperate eloquence, borne on Newspaper wings to all lands, they have - now, on this 17th day of June, determined that their name is not <i>Third - Estate</i>, but—<i>National Assembly!</i> They, then, are the - Nation? Triumvirate of Princes, Queen, refractory Noblesse and Clergy, - what, then, are <i>you?</i> A most deep question;—scarcely - answerable in living political dialects. - </p> - - <p> - All regardless of which, our new National Assembly proceeds to appoint a - “committee of subsistences;” dear to France, though it can find little or - no grain. Next, as if our National Assembly stood quite firm on its - legs,—to appoint “four other standing committees;” then to settle - the security of the National Debt; then that of the Annual Taxation: all - within eight-and-forty hours. At such rate of velocity it is going: the - conjurors of the Œil-de-Bœuf may well ask themselves, Whither? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"></a> - Chapter 1.5.II.<br/> - Mercury de Brézé. - </h3> - - <p> - Now surely were the time for a “god from the machine;” there is a - <i>nodus</i> worthy of one. The only question is, Which god? Shall it be - Mars de Broglie, with his hundred pieces of cannon?—Not yet, - answers prudence; so soft, irresolute is King Louis. Let it be Messenger - <i>Mercury</i>, our Supreme Usher de Brézé. - </p> - - <p> - On the morrow, which is the 20th of June, these Hundred and Forty-nine - false Curates, no longer restrainable by his Grace of Paris, will desert - in a body: let De Brézé intervene, and produce—closed doors! Not - only shall there be Royal Session, in that Salle des Menus; but no - meeting, nor working (except by carpenters), till then. Your Third - Estate, self-styled “National Assembly,” shall suddenly see itself - extruded from its Hall, by carpenters, in this dexterous way; and reduced - to do nothing, not even to meet, or articulately lament,—till - Majesty, with <i>Séance Royale</i> and new miracles, be ready! In this - manner shall De Brézé, as Mercury <i>ex machinâ</i>, intervene; and, if - the Œil-de-Bœuf mistake not, work deliverance from the <i>nodus</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Of poor De Brézé we can remark that he has yet prospered in none of his - dealings with these Commons. Five weeks ago, when they kissed the hand of - Majesty, the mode he took got nothing but censure; and then his “sincere - attachment,” how was it scornfully whiffed aside! Before supper, this - night, he writes to President Bailly, a new Letter, to be delivered - shortly after dawn tomorrow, in the King’s name. Which Letter, however, - Bailly in the pride of office, will merely crush together into his - pocket, like a bill he does not mean to pay. - </p> - - <p> - Accordingly on Saturday morning the 20th of June, shrill-sounding heralds - proclaim through the streets of Versailles, that there is to be a - <i>Séance Royale</i> next Monday; and no meeting of the States-General - till then. And yet, we observe, President Bailly in sound of this, and - with De Brézé’s Letter in his pocket, is proceeding, with National - Assembly at his heels, to the accustomed Salles des Menus; as if De Brézé - and heralds were mere wind. It is shut, this Salle; occupied by Gardes - Françaises. ‘Where is your Captain?’ The Captain shows his royal order: - workmen, he is grieved to say, are all busy setting up the platform for - his Majesty’s <i>Séance;</i> most unfortunately, no admission; admission, - at furthest, for President and Secretaries to bring away papers, which - the joiners might destroy!—President Bailly enters with - Secretaries; and returns bearing papers: alas, within doors, instead of - patriotic eloquence, there is now no noise but hammering, sawing, and - operative screeching and rumbling! A profanation without parallel. - </p> - - <p> - The Deputies stand grouped on the Paris Road, on this umbrageous - <i>Avenue de Versailles;</i> complaining aloud of the indignity done - them. Courtiers, it is supposed, look from their windows, and giggle. The - morning is none of the comfortablest: raw; it is even drizzling a - little.<a href="#linknote-149" name="linknoteref-149" - id="linknoteref-149">[149]</a> But all travellers pause; patriot - gallery-men, miscellaneous spectators increase the groups. Wild counsels - alternate. Some desperate Deputies propose to go and hold session on the - great outer Staircase at Marly, under the King’s windows; for his - Majesty, it seems, has driven over thither. Others talk of making the - Château Forecourt, what they call <i>Place d’Armes</i>, a Runnymede and - new <i>Champ de Mai</i> of free Frenchmen: nay of awakening, to sounds of - indignant Patriotism, the echoes of the Œil-de-boeuf itself.—Notice - is given that President Bailly, aided by judicious Guillotin and others, - has found place in the Tennis-Court of the Rue St. François. Thither, in - long-drawn files, hoarse-jingling, like cranes on wing, the Commons - Deputies angrily wend. - </p> - - <p> - Strange sight was this in the Rue St. François, Vieux Versailles! A naked - Tennis-Court, as the pictures of that time still give it: four walls; - naked, except aloft some poor wooden penthouse, or roofed - spectators’-gallery, hanging round them:—on the floor not now an - idle teeheeing, a snapping of balls and rackets; but the bellowing din of - an indignant National Representation, scandalously exiled hither! - However, a cloud of witnesses looks down on them, from wooden penthouse, - from wall-top, from adjoining roof and chimney; rolls towards them from - all quarters, with passionate spoken blessings. Some table can be - procured to write on; some chair, if not to sit on, then to stand on. The - Secretaries undo their tapes; Bailly has constituted the Assembly. - </p> - - <p> - Experienced Mounier, not wholly new to such things, in Parlementary - revolts, which he has seen or heard of, thinks that it were well, in - these lamentable threatening circumstances, to unite themselves by an - Oath.—Universal acclamation, as from smouldering bosoms getting - vent! The Oath is redacted; pronounced aloud by President - Bailly,—and indeed in such a sonorous tone, that the cloud of - witnesses, even outdoors, hear it, and bellow response to it. Six hundred - right-hands rise with President Bailly’s, to take God above to witness - that they will not separate for man below, but will meet in all places, - under all circumstances, wheresoever two or three can get together, till - they have made the Constitution. Made the Constitution, Friends! That is - a long task. Six hundred hands, meanwhile, will sign as they have sworn: - six hundred save one; one Loyalist Abdiel, still visible by this sole - light-point, and nameable, poor “M. Martin d’Auch, from Castelnaudary, in - Languedoc.” Him they permit to sign or signify refusal; they even save - him from the cloud of witnesses, by declaring “his head deranged.” At - four o’clock, the signatures are all appended; new meeting is fixed for - Monday morning, earlier than the hour of the Royal Session; that our - Hundred and Forty-nine Clerical deserters be not balked: we shall meet - “at the Recollets Church or elsewhere,” in hope that our Hundred and - Forty-nine will join us;—and now it is time to go to dinner. - </p> - - <p> - This, then, is the Session of the Tennis-Court, famed <i>Séance du Jeu de - Paume;</i> the fame of which has gone forth to all lands. This is - Mercurius de Brézé’s appearance as <i>Deus ex machinâ;</i> this is the - fruit it brings! The giggle of Courtiers in the Versailles Avenue has - already died into gaunt silence. Did the distracted Court, with - Gardes-des-Sceaux Barentin, Triumvirate and Company, imagine that they - could scatter six hundred National Deputies, big with a National - Constitution, like as much barndoor poultry, big with next to - nothing,—by the white or black rod of a Supreme Usher? Barndoor - poultry fly cackling: but National Deputies turn round, lion-faced; and, - with uplifted right-hand, swear an Oath that makes the four corners of - France tremble. - </p> - - <p> - President Bailly has covered himself with honour; which shall become - rewards. The National Assembly is now doubly and trebly the Nation’s - Assembly; not militant, martyred only, but triumphant; insulted, and - which could not <i>be</i> insulted. Paris disembogues itself once more, - to witness, “with grim looks,” the <i>Séance Royale:</i><a - href="#linknote-150" name="linknoteref-150" - id="linknoteref-150">[150]</a> which, by a new felicity, is postponed - till Tuesday. The Hundred and Forty-nine, and even with Bishops among - them, all in processional mass, have had free leisure to march off, and - solemnly join the Commons sitting waiting in their Church. The Commons - welcomed them with shouts, with embracings, nay with tears;<a - href="#linknote-151" name="linknoteref-151" - id="linknoteref-151">[151]</a> for it is growing a life-and-death matter - now. - </p> - - <p> - As for the <i>Séance</i> itself, the Carpenters seem to have accomplished - their platform; but all else remains unaccomplished. Futile, we may say - fatal, was the whole matter. King Louis enters, through seas of people, - all grim-silent, angry with many things,—for it is a bitter rain - too. Enters, to a Third Estate, likewise grim-silent; which has been - wetted waiting under mean porches, at back-doors, while Court and - Privileged were entering by the front. King and Garde-des-Sceaux (there - is no Necker visible) make known, not without longwindedness, the - determinations of the royal breast. The Three Orders <i>shall</i> vote - separately. On the other hand, France may look for considerable - constitutional blessings; as specified in these Five-and-thirty - Articles,<a href="#linknote-152" name="linknoteref-152" - id="linknoteref-152">[152]</a> which Garde-des-Sceaux is waxing hoarse - with reading. Which Five-and-Thirty Articles, adds his Majesty again - rising, if the Three Orders most unfortunately cannot agree together to - effect them, I myself will effect: ‘<i>seul je ferai le bien de mes - peuples</i>,’—which being interpreted may signify, You, contentious - Deputies of the States-General, have probably not long to be here! But, - in fine, all shall now withdraw for this day; and meet again, each Order - in its separate place, tomorrow morning, for despatch of business. - <i>This</i> is the determination of the royal breast: pithy and clear. - And herewith King, retinue, Noblesse, majority of Clergy file out, as if - the whole matter were satisfactorily completed. - </p> - - <p> - These file out; through grim-silent seas of people. Only the Commons - Deputies file not out; but stand there in gloomy silence, uncertain what - they shall do. One man of them is certain; one man of them discerns and - dares! It is now that King Mirabeau starts to the Tribune, and lifts up - his lion-voice. Verily a word in season; for, in such scenes, the moment - is the mother of ages! Had not Gabriel Honoré been there,—one can - well fancy, how the Commons Deputies, affrighted at the perils which now - yawned dim all round them, and waxing ever paler in each other’s - paleness, might very naturally, one after one, have <i>glided off;</i> - and the whole course of European History have been different! - </p> - - <p> - But he is there. List to the <i>brool</i> of that royal forest-voice; - sorrowful, low; fast swelling to a roar! Eyes kindle at the glance of his - eye:—National Deputies were missioned by a Nation; they have sworn - an Oath; they—but lo! while the lion’s voice roars loudest, what - Apparition is this? Apparition of Mercurius de Brézé, muttering - somewhat!—‘Speak out,’ cry several.—‘Messieurs,’ shrills De - Brézé, repeating himself, ‘You have heard the King’s - orders!’—Mirabeau glares on him with fire-flashing face; shakes the - black lion’s mane: ‘Yes, Monsieur, we have heard what the King was - advised to say: and you who cannot be the interpreter of his orders to - the States-General; you, who have neither place nor right of speech here; - <i>you</i> are not the man to remind us of it. Go, Monsieur, tell these - who sent you that we are here by the will of the People, and that nothing - shall send us hence but the force of bayonets!’<a href="#linknote-153" - name="linknoteref-153" id="linknoteref-153">[153]</a> And poor De Brézé - shivers forth from the National Assembly;—and also (if it be not in - one faintest glimmer, months later) finally from the page of - History!— - </p> - - <p> - Hapless De Brézé; doomed to survive long ages, in men’s memory, in this - faint way, with tremulent white rod! He was true to Etiquette, which was - his Faith here below; a martyr to respect of persons. Short woollen - cloaks could not kiss Majesty’s hand as long velvet ones did. Nay lately, - when the poor little Dauphin lay dead, and some ceremonial Visitation - came, was he not punctual to announce it even to the Dauphin’s <i>dead - body:</i> ‘Monseigneur, a Deputation of the States-General!’<a - href="#linknote-154" name="linknoteref-154" - id="linknoteref-154">[154]</a> <i>Sunt lachrymæ rerum.</i> - </p> - - <p> - But what does the Œil-de-Bœuf, now when De Brézé shivers back thither? - <i>Despatch</i> that same force of bayonets? Not so: the seas of people - still hang multitudinous, intent on what is passing; nay rush and roll, - loud-billowing, into the Courts of the Château itself; for a report has - risen that Necker is to be dismissed. Worst of all, the Gardes Françaises - seem indisposed to act: “two Companies of them <i>do not fire</i> when - ordered!”<a href="#linknote-155" name="linknoteref-155" - id="linknoteref-155">[155]</a> Necker, for not being at the - <i>Séance</i>, shall be shouted for, carried home in triumph; and must - not be dismissed. His Grace of Paris, on the other hand, has to fly with - broken coach-panels, and owe his life to furious driving. The - <i>Gardes-du-Corps</i> (Body-Guards), which you were drawing out, had - better be drawn in again.<a href="#linknote-156" name="linknoteref-156" - id="linknoteref-156">[156]</a> There is no sending of bayonets to be - thought of. - </p> - - <p> - Instead of soldiers, the Œil-de-Bœuf sends—carpenters, to take down - the platform. Ineffectual shift! In few instants, the very carpenters - cease wrenching and knocking at their platform; stand on it, hammer in - hand, and listen open-mouthed.<a href="#linknote-157" - name="linknoteref-157" id="linknoteref-157">[157]</a> The Third Estate is - decreeing that it is, was, and will be, nothing but a National Assembly; - and now, moreover, an inviolable one, all members of it inviolable: - “infamous, traitorous, towards the Nation, and guilty of capital crime, - is any person, body-corporate, tribunal, court or commission that now or - henceforth, during the present session or after it, shall dare to pursue, - interrogate, arrest, or cause to be arrested, detain or cause to be - detained, any,” &c. &c. “<i>on whose part soever</i> the same be - commanded.”<a href="#linknote-158" name="linknoteref-158" - id="linknoteref-158">[158]</a> Which done, one can wind up with this - comfortable reflection from Abbé Sieyes: ‘Messieurs, you are today what - you were yesterday.’ - </p> - - <p> - Courtiers may shriek; but it is, and remains, even so. Their well-charged - explosion has exploded <i>through the touch-hole;</i> covering themselves - with scorches, confusion, and unseemly soot! Poor Triumvirate, poor - Queen; and above all, poor Queen’s Husband, who means well, had he any - fixed meaning! Folly is that wisdom which is wise only behindhand. Few - months ago these Thirty-five Concessions had filled France with a - rejoicing, which might have lasted for several years. Now it is - unavailing, the very mention of it slighted; Majesty’s express orders set - at nought. - </p> - - <p> - All France is in a roar; a sea of persons, estimated at “ten thousand,” - whirls “all this day in the Palais Royal.”<a href="#linknote-159" - name="linknoteref-159" id="linknoteref-159">[159]</a> The remaining - Clergy, and likewise some Forty-eight Noblesse, D’Orléans among them, - have now forthwith gone over to the victorious Commons; by whom, as is - natural, they are received “with acclamation.” - </p> - - <p> - The Third Estate triumphs; Versailles Town shouting round it; ten - thousand whirling all day in the Palais Royal; and all France standing - a-tiptoe, not unlike whirling! Let the Œil-de-Bœuf look to it. As for - King Louis, he will swallow his injuries; will temporise, keep silence; - will at all costs have present peace. It was Tuesday the 23d of June, - when he spoke that peremptory royal mandate; and the week is not done - till he has written to the remaining obstinate Noblesse, that they also - must oblige him, and give in. D’Espréménil rages his last; Barrel - Mirabeau “breaks his sword,” making a vow,—which he might as well - have kept. The “Triple Family” is now therefore complete; the third - erring brother, the Noblesse, having joined it;—erring but - pardonable; soothed, so far as possible, by sweet eloquence from - President Bailly. - </p> - - <p> - So triumphs the Third Estate; and States-General are become National - Assembly; and all France may sing <i>Te Deum</i>. By wise inertia, and - wise cessation of inertia, great victory has been gained. It is the last - night of June: all night you meet nothing on the streets of Versailles - but “men running with torches” with shouts of jubilation. From the 2nd of - May when they kissed the hand of Majesty, to this 30th of June when men - run with torches, we count seven weeks complete. For seven weeks the - National Carroccio has stood far-seen, ringing many a signal; and, so - much having now gathered round it, may hope to stand. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"></a> - Chapter 1.5.III.<br/> - Broglie the War-God. - </h3> - - <p> - The Court feels indignant that it is conquered; but what then? Another - time it will do better. Mercury descended in vain; now has the time come - for Mars.—The gods of the Œil-de-Bœuf have withdrawn into the - darkness of their cloudy Ida; and sit there, shaping and forging what may - be needful, be it “billets of a new National Bank,” munitions of war, or - things forever inscrutable to men. - </p> - - <p> - Accordingly, what means this “apparatus of troops”? The National Assembly - can get no furtherance for its Committee of Subsistences; can hear only - that, at Paris, the Bakers’ shops are besieged; that, in the Provinces, - people are living on “meal-husks and boiled grass.” But on all highways - there hover dust-clouds, with the march of regiments, with the trailing - of cannon: foreign Pandours, of fierce aspect; Salis-Samade, Esterhazy, - Royal-Allemand; so many of them foreign, to the number of thirty - thousand,—which fear can magnify to fifty: all wending towards - Paris and Versailles! Already, on the heights of Montmartre, is a digging - and delving; too like a scarping and trenching. The effluence of Paris is - arrested Versailles-ward by a barrier of cannon at Sèvres Bridge. From - the Queen’s Mews, cannon stand pointed on the National Assembly Hall - itself. The National Assembly has its very slumbers broken by the tramp - of soldiery, swarming and defiling, endless, or seemingly endless, all - round those spaces, at dead of night, “without drum-music, without - audible word of command.”<a href="#linknote-160" name="linknoteref-160" - id="linknoteref-160">[160]</a> What means it? - </p> - - <p> - Shall eight, or even shall twelve Deputies, our Mirabeaus, Barnaves at - the head of them, be whirled suddenly to the Castle of Ham; the rest - ignominiously dispersed to the winds? No National Assembly can make the - Constitution with cannon levelled on it from the Queen’s Mews! What means - this reticence of the Œil-de-Bœuf, broken only by nods and shrugs? In the - mystery of that cloudy Ida, what is it that they forge and - shape?—Such questions must distracted Patriotism keep asking, and - receive no answer but an echo. - </p> - - <p> - Enough of themselves! But now, above all, while the hungry food-year, - which runs from August to August, is getting older; becoming more and - more a famine-year? With “meal-husks and boiled grass,” Brigands may - actually collect; and, in crowds, at farm and mansion, howl angrily, - <i>Food! Food!</i> It is in vain to send soldiers against them: at sight - of soldiers they disperse, they vanish as under ground; then directly - reassemble elsewhere for new tumult and plunder. Frightful enough to look - upon; but what to <i>hear</i> of, reverberated through Twenty-five - Millions of suspicious minds! Brigands and Broglie, open Conflagration, - preternatural Rumour are driving mad most hearts in France. What will the - issue of these things be? - </p> - - <p> - At Marseilles, many weeks ago, the Townsmen have taken arms; for - “suppressing of Brigands,” and other purposes: the military commandant - may make of it what he will. Elsewhere, everywhere, could not the like be - done? Dubious, on the distracted Patriot imagination, wavers, as a last - deliverance, some foreshadow of a <i>National Guard</i>. But conceive, - above all, the Wooden Tent in the Palais Royal! A universal hubbub there, - as of dissolving worlds: their loudest bellows the mad, mad-making voice - of Rumour; their sharpest gazes Suspicion into the pale dim - World-Whirlpool; discerning shapes and phantasms; imminent bloodthirsty - Regiments camped on the Champ-de-Mars; dispersed National Assembly; - redhot cannon-balls (to burn Paris);—the mad War-god and Bellona’s - sounding thongs. To the calmest man it is becoming too plain that battle - is inevitable. - </p> - - <p> - Inevitable, silently nod Messeigneurs and Broglie: Inevitable and brief! - Your National Assembly, stopped short in its Constitutional labours, may - fatigue the royal ear with addresses and remonstrances: those cannon of - ours stand duly levelled; those troops are here. The King’s Declaration, - with its Thirty-five too generous Articles, was spoken, was not listened - to; but remains yet unrevoked: he himself shall effect it, <i>seul il - fera!</i> - </p> - - <p> - As for Broglie, he has his headquarters at Versailles, all as in a seat - of war: clerks writing; significant staff-officers, inclined to - taciturnity; plumed aides-de-camp, scouts, orderlies flying or hovering. - He himself looks forth, important, impenetrable; listens to Besenval - Commandant of Paris, and his warning and earnest counsels (for he has - come out repeatedly on purpose), with a silent smile.<a - href="#linknote-161" name="linknoteref-161" - id="linknoteref-161">[161]</a> The Parisians resist? scornfully cry - Messeigneurs. As a meal-mob may! They have sat quiet, these five - generations, submitting to all. Their Mercier declared, in these very - years, that a Parisian revolt was henceforth “impossible.”<a - href="#linknote-162" name="linknoteref-162" - id="linknoteref-162">[162]</a> Stand by the royal Declaration, of the - Twenty-third of June. The Nobles of France, valorous, chivalrous as of - old, will rally round us with one heart;—and as for this which you - call Third Estate, and which we call <i>canaille</i> of unwashed - Sansculottes, of Patelins, Scribblers, factious Spouters,—brave - Broglie, “with a whiff of grapeshot (<i>salve de canons</i>),” if need be, - will give quick account of it. Thus reason they: on their cloudy Ida; - hidden from men,—men also hidden from them. - </p> - - <p> - Good is grapeshot, Messeigneurs, on one condition: that the shooter also - were made of metal! But unfortunately he is made of flesh; under his - buffs and bandoleers your hired shooter has instincts, feelings, even a - kind of thought. It is his kindred, bone of his bone, this same - <i>canaille</i> that shall be whiffed; he has brothers in it, a father - and mother,—living on meal-husks and boiled grass. His very doxy, - not yet “dead i’ the spital,” drives him into military heterodoxy; - declares that if he shed Patriot blood, he shall be accursed among men. - The soldier, who has seen his pay stolen by rapacious Foulons, his blood - wasted by Soubises, Pompadours, and the gates of promotion shut - inexorably on him if he were not born noble,—is himself not without - griefs against you. Your cause is not the soldier’s cause; but, as would - seem, your own only, and no other god’s nor man’s. - </p> - - <p> - For example, the world may have heard how, at Bethune lately, when there - rose some “riot about grains,” of which sort there are so many, and the - soldiers stood drawn out, and the word “Fire! was given,—not a - trigger stirred; only the butts of all muskets rattled angrily against - the ground; and the soldiers stood glooming, with a mixed expression of - countenance;—till clutched “each under the arm of a patriot - householder,” they were all hurried off, in this manner, to be treated - and caressed, and have their pay increased by subscription!<a - href="#linknote-163" name="linknoteref-163" - id="linknoteref-163">[163]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Neither have the Gardes Françaises, the best regiment of the line, shown - any promptitude for street-firing lately. They returned grumbling from - Réveillon’s; and have not burnt a single cartridge since; nay, as we saw, - not even when bid. A dangerous humour dwells in these Gardes. Notable men - too, in their way! Valadi the Pythagorean was, at one time, an officer of - theirs. Nay, in the ranks, under the three-cornered felt and cockade, - what hard heads may there not be, and reflections going on,—unknown - to the public! One head of the hardest we do now discern there: on the - shoulders of a certain Sergeant Hoche. Lazare Hoche, that is the name of - him; he used to be about the Versailles Royal Stables, nephew of a poor - herbwoman; a handy lad; exceedingly addicted to reading. He is now - Sergeant Hoche, and can rise no farther: he lays out his pay in - rushlights, and cheap editions of books.<a href="#linknote-164" - name="linknoteref-164" id="linknoteref-164">[164]</a> - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, the best seems to be: Consign these Gardes Françaises to - their Barracks. So Besenval thinks, and orders. Consigned to their - barracks, the Gardes Françaises do but form a “Secret Association,” an - Engagement not to act against the National Assembly. Debauched by Valadi - the Pythagorean; debauched by money and women! cry Besenval and - innumerable others. Debauched by what you will, or in need of no - debauching, behold them, long files of them, their consignment broken, - arrive, headed by their Sergeants, on the 26th day of June, at the Palais - Royal! Welcomed with vivats, with presents, and a pledge of patriot - liquor; embracing and embraced; declaring in words that the cause of - France is their cause! Next day and the following days the like. What is - singular too, except this patriot humour, and breaking of their - consignment, they behave otherwise with “the most rigorous accuracy.”<a - href="#linknote-165" name="linknoteref-165" - id="linknoteref-165">[165]</a> - </p> - - <p> - They are growing questionable, these Gardes! Eleven ring-leaders of them - are put in the Abbaye Prison. It boots not in the least. The imprisoned - Eleven have only, “by the hand of an individual,” to drop, towards - nightfall, a line in the Café de Foy; where Patriotism harangues loudest - on its table. “Two hundred young persons, soon waxing to four thousand,” - with fit crowbars, roll towards the Abbaye; smite asunder the needful - doors; and bear out their Eleven, with other military victims:—to - supper in the Palais Royal Garden; to board, and lodging “in campbeds, in - the <i>Théâtre des Variétés;</i>” other national <i>Prytaneum</i> as yet - not being in readiness. Most deliberate! Nay so punctual were these young - persons, that finding one military victim to have been imprisoned for - real civil crime, they returned him to his cell, with protest. - </p> - - <p> - Why new military force was not called out? New military force was called - out. New military force did arrive, full gallop, with drawn sabre: but - the people gently “laid hold of their bridles;” the dragoons sheathed - their swords; lifted their caps by way of salute, and sat like mere - statues of dragoons,—except indeed that a drop of liquor being - brought them, they “drank to the King and Nation with the greatest - cordiality.”<a href="#linknote-166" name="linknoteref-166" - id="linknoteref-166">[166]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And now, ask in return, why Messeigneurs and Broglie the great god of - war, on seeing these things, did not pause, and take some other course, - any other course? Unhappily, as we said, they could see nothing. Pride, - which goes before a fall; wrath, if not reasonable, yet pardonable, most - natural, had hardened their hearts and heated their heads; so, with - imbecility and violence (ill-matched pair), they rush to seek their hour. - All Regiments are not Gardes Françaises, or debauched by Valadi the - Pythagorean: let fresh undebauched Regiments come up; let Royal-Allemand, - Salais-Samade, Swiss Château-Vieux come up,—which can fight, but - can hardly speak except in German gutturals; let soldiers march, and - highways thunder with artillery-waggons: Majesty has a new Royal Session - to hold,—and miracles to work there! The whiff of grapeshot can, if - needful, become a blast and tempest. - </p> - - <p> - In which circumstances, before the redhot balls begin raining, may not - the Hundred-and-twenty Paris Electors, though their <i>Cahier</i> is long - since finished, see good to meet again daily, as an “Electoral Club”? - They meet first “in a Tavern;”—where “the largest wedding-party” - cheerfully give place to them.<a href="#linknote-167" - name="linknoteref-167" id="linknoteref-167">[167]</a> But latterly they - meet in the <i>Hôtel-de-Ville</i>, in the Townhall itself. Flesselles, - Provost of Merchants, with his Four Echevins (<i>Scabins</i>, Assessors), - could not prevent it; such was the force of public opinion. He, with his - Echevins, and the Six-and-Twenty Town-Councillors, all appointed from - Above, may well sit silent there, in their long gowns; and consider, with - awed eye, what prelude this is of convulsion coming from Below, and how - themselves shall fare in that! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"></a> - Chapter 1.5.IV.<br/> - To Arms! - </h3> - - <p> - So hangs it, dubious, fateful, in the sultry days of July. It is the - passionate printed <i>advice</i> of M. Marat, to abstain, of all things, - from violence.<a href="#linknote-168" name="linknoteref-168" - id="linknoteref-168">[168]</a> Nevertheless the hungry poor are already - burning Town Barriers, where Tribute on eatables is levied; getting - clamorous for food. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The twelfth July morning is Sunday; the streets are all placarded with an - enormous-sized <i>De par le Roi</i>, “inviting peaceable citizens to - remain within doors,” to feel no alarm, to gather in no crowd. Why so? - What mean these “placards of enormous size”? Above all, what means this - clatter of military; dragoons, hussars, rattling in from all points of - the compass towards the Place Louis Quinze; with a staid gravity of face, - though saluted with mere nicknames, hootings and even missiles?<a - href="#linknote-169" name="linknoteref-169" - id="linknoteref-169">[169]</a> Besenval is with them. Swiss Guards of his - are already in the Champs Elysées, with four pieces of artillery. - </p> - - <p> - Have the destroyers descended on us, then? From the Bridge of Sèvres to - utmost Vincennes, from Saint-Denis to the Champ-de-Mars, we are begirt! - Alarm, of the vague unknown, is in every heart. The Palais Royal has - become a place of awestruck interjections, silent shakings of the head: - one can fancy with what dolorous sound the noon-tide cannon (which the - Sun fires at the crossing of his meridian) went off there; bodeful, like - an inarticulate voice of doom.<a href="#linknote-170" - name="linknoteref-170" id="linknoteref-170">[170]</a> Are these troops - verily come out “against Brigands”? Where are the Brigands? What mystery - is in the wind?—Hark! a human voice reporting articulately the - Job’s-news: <i>Necker, People’s Minister, Saviour of France, is - dismissed</i>. Impossible; incredible! Treasonous to the public peace! - Such a voice ought to be choked in the water-works;<a - href="#linknote-171" name="linknoteref-171" - id="linknoteref-171">[171]</a>—had not the news-bringer quickly - fled. Nevertheless, friends, make of it what you will, the news is true. - Necker is gone. Necker hies northward incessantly, in obedient secrecy, - since yesternight. We have a new Ministry: Broglie the War-god; - Aristocrat Bréteuil; Foulon who said the people might eat grass! - </p> - - <p> - Rumour, therefore, shall arise; in the Palais Royal, and in broad France. - Paleness sits on every face; confused tremor and fremescence; waxing into - thunder-peals, of Fury stirred on by Fear. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But see Camille Desmoulins, from the Café de Foy, rushing out, sibylline - in face; his hair streaming, in each hand a pistol! He springs to a - table: the Police satellites are eyeing him; alive they shall not take - him, not they alive him alive. This time he speaks without - stammering:—Friends, shall we die like hunted hares? Like sheep - hounded into their pinfold; bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but - only a whetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of Frenchman and - Man; when Oppressors are to try conclusions with Oppressed; and the word - is, swift Death, or Deliverance forever. Let such hour be - <i>well</i>-come! Us, meseems, one cry only befits: To Arms! Let - universal Paris, universal France, as with the throat of the whirlwind, - sound only: To arms!—‘To arms!’ yell responsive the innumerable - voices: like one great voice, as of a Demon yelling from the air: for all - faces wax fire-eyed, all hearts burn up into madness. In such, or fitter - words,<a href="#linknote-172" name="linknoteref-172" - id="linknoteref-172">[172]</a> does Camille evoke the Elemental Powers, - in this great moment.—Friends, continues Camille, some rallying - sign! Cockades; green ones;—the colour of hope!—As with the - flight of locusts, these green tree leaves; green ribands from the - neighbouring shops; all green things are snatched, and made cockades of. - Camille descends from his table, “stifled with embraces, wetted with - tears;” has a bit of green riband handed him; sticks it in his hat. And - now to Curtius’ Image-shop there; to the Boulevards; to the four winds; - and rest not till France be on fire! - </p> - - <p> - France, so long shaken and wind-parched, is probably at the right - inflammable point.—As for poor Curtius, who, one grieves to think, - might be but imperfectly paid,—he cannot make two words about his - Images. The Wax-bust of Necker, the Wax-bust of D’Orléans, helpers of - France: these, covered with crape, as in funeral procession, or after the - manner of suppliants appealing to Heaven, to Earth, and Tartarus itself, - a mixed multitude bears off. For a sign! As indeed man, with his singular - imaginative faculties, can do little or nothing without signs: thus Turks - look to their Prophet’s banner; also Osier <i>Mannikins</i> have been - burnt, and Necker’s Portrait has erewhile figured, aloft on its perch. - </p> - - <p> - In this manner march they, a mixed, continually increasing multitude; - armed with axes, staves and miscellanea; grim, many-sounding, through the - streets. Be all Theatres shut; let all dancing, on planked floor, or on - the natural greensward, cease! Instead of a Christian Sabbath, and feast - of <i>guinguette</i> tabernacles, it shall be a Sorcerer’s Sabbath; and - Paris, gone rabid, dance,—with the Fiend for piper! - </p> - - <p> - However, Besenval, with horse and foot, is in the Place Louis Quinze. - Mortals promenading homewards, in the fall of the day, saunter by, from - Chaillot or Passy, from flirtation and a little thin wine; with sadder - step than usual. Will the Bust-Procession pass that way! Behold it; - behold also Prince Lambesc dash forth on it, with his Royal-Allemands! - Shots fall, and sabre-strokes; Busts are hewn asunder; and, alas, also - heads of men. A sabred Procession has nothing for it but to - <i>explode</i>, along what streets, alleys, Tuileries Avenues it finds; - and disappear. One unarmed man lies hewed down; a Garde Française by his - uniform: bear him (or bear even the report of him) dead and gory to his - Barracks;—where he has comrades still alive! - </p> - - <p> - But why not now, victorious Lambesc, charge through that Tuileries Garden - itself, where the fugitives are vanishing? Not show the Sunday - promenaders too, how steel glitters, besprent with blood; that it be told - of, and men’s ears tingle?—Tingle, alas, they did; but the wrong - way. Victorious Lambesc, in this his second or Tuileries charge, succeeds - but in overturning (call it not slashing, for he struck with the flat of - his sword) one man, a poor old schoolmaster, most pacifically tottering - there; and is driven out, by barricade of chairs, by flights of “bottles - and glasses,” by execrations in bass voice and treble. Most delicate is - the mob-queller’s vocation; wherein Too-much may be as bad as Not-enough. - For each of these bass voices, and more each treble voice, borne to all - points of the City, rings now nothing but distracted indignation; will - ring all another. The cry, <i>To arms!</i> roars tenfold; steeples with - their metal storm-voice boom out, as the sun sinks; armorer’s shops are - broken open, plundered; the streets are a living foam-sea, chafed by all - the winds. - </p> - - <p> - Such issue came of Lambesc’s charge on the Tuileries Garden: no striking - of salutary terror into Chaillot promenaders; a striking into broad - wakefulness of Frenzy and the three Furies,—which otherwise were - not asleep! For they lie always, those subterranean Eumenides (fabulous - and yet so true), in the dullest existence of man;—and can dance, - brandishing their dusky torches, shaking their serpent-hair. Lambesc with - Royal-Allemand may ride to his barracks, with curses for his - marching-music; then ride back again, like one troubled in mind: vengeful - Gardes Françaises, <i>sacre</i>ing, with knit brows, start out on him, - from their barracks in the Chaussé d’Antin; pour a volley into him - (killing and wounding); which he must not answer, but ride on.<a - href="#linknote-173" name="linknoteref-173" - id="linknoteref-173">[173]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Counsel dwells not under the plumed hat. If the Eumenides awaken, and - Broglie has given no orders, what can a Besenval do? When the Gardes - Françaises, with Palais-Royal volunteers, roll down, greedy of more - vengeance, to the Place Louis Quinze itself, they find neither Besenval, - Lambesc, Royal-Allemand, nor any soldier now there. Gone is military - order. On the far Eastern Boulevard, of Saint-Antoine, the Chasseurs - Normandie arrive, dusty, thirsty, after a hard day’s ride; but can find - no billet-master, see no course in this City of confusions; cannot get to - Besenval, cannot so much as discover where he is: Normandie must even - bivouac there, in its dust and thirst,—unless some patriot will - treat it to a cup of liquor, with advices. - </p> - - <p> - Raging multitudes surround the Hôtel-de-Ville, crying: Arms! Orders! The - Six-and-twenty Town-Councillors, with their long gowns, have ducked under - (into the raging chaos);—shall never emerge more. Besenval is - painfully wriggling himself out, to the Champ-de-Mars; he must sit there - “in the cruelest uncertainty:” courier after courier may dash off for - Versailles; but will bring back no answer, can hardly bring himself back. - For the roads are all blocked with batteries and pickets, with floods of - carriages arrested for examination: such was Broglie’s one sole order; - the Œil-de-Bœuf, hearing in the distance such mad din, which sounded - almost like invasion, will before all things keep its own head whole. A - new Ministry, with, as it were, but one foot in the stirrup, cannot take - leaps. Mad Paris is abandoned altogether to itself. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - What a Paris, when the darkness fell! A European metropolitan City hurled - suddenly forth from its old combinations and arrangements; to crash - tumultuously together, seeking new. Use and wont will now no longer - direct any man; each man, with what of originality he has, must begin - thinking; or following those that think. Seven hundred thousand - individuals, on the sudden, find all their old paths, old ways of acting - and deciding, vanish from under their feet. And so there go they, with - clangour and terror, they know not as yet whether running, swimming or - flying,—headlong into the New Era. With clangour and terror: from - above, Broglie the war-god impends, preternatural, with his redhot - cannon-balls; and from below, a preternatural Brigand-world menaces with - dirk and firebrand: madness rules the hour. - </p> - - <p> - Happily, in place of the submerged Twenty-six, the Electoral Club is - gathering; has declared itself a “Provisional Municipality.” On the - morrow it will get Provost Flesselles, with an Echevin or two, to give - help in many things. For the present it decrees one most essential thing: - that forthwith a “Parisian Militia” shall be enrolled. Depart, ye heads - of Districts, to labour in this great work; while we here, in Permanent - Committee, sit alert. Let fencible men, each party in its own range of - streets, keep watch and ward, all night. Let Paris court a little - fever-sleep; confused by such fever-dreams, of “violent motions at the - Palais Royal;”—or from time to time start awake, and look out, - palpitating, in its nightcap, at the clash of discordant - mutually-unintelligible Patrols; on the gleam of distant Barriers, going - up all-too ruddy towards the vault of Night.<a href="#linknote-174" - name="linknoteref-174" id="linknoteref-174">[174]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"></a> - Chapter 1.5.V.<br/> - Give us Arms. - </h3> - - <p> - On Monday the huge City has awoke, not to its week-day industry: to what - a different one! The working man has become a fighting man; has one want - only: that of arms. The industry of all crafts has paused;—except - it be the smith’s, fiercely hammering pikes; and, in a faint degree, the - kitchener’s, cooking off-hand victuals; for <i>bouche va toujours</i>. - Women too are sewing cockades;—not now of green, which being - D’Artois colour, the Hôtel-de-Ville has had to interfere in it; but of - <i>red</i> and <i>blue</i>, our old Paris colours: these, once based on a - ground of constitutional <i>white</i>, are the famed - TRICOLOR,—which (if Prophecy err not) “will go round the world.” - </p> - - <p> - All shops, unless it be the Bakers’ and Vintners’, are shut: Paris is in - the streets;—rushing, foaming like some Venice wine-glass into - which you had dropped poison. The tocsin, by order, is pealing madly from - all steeples. Arms, ye Elector Municipals; thou Flesselles with thy - Echevins, give us arms! Flesselles gives what he can: fallacious, perhaps - insidious promises of arms from Charleville; order to seek arms here, - order to seek them there. The new Municipals give what they can; some - three hundred and sixty indifferent firelocks, the equipment of the - City-Watch: “a man in wooden shoes, and without coat, directly clutches - one of them, and mounts guard.” Also as hinted, an order to all Smiths to - make pikes with their whole soul. - </p> - - <p> - Heads of Districts are in fervent consultation; subordinate Patriotism - roams distracted, ravenous for arms. Hitherto at the Hôtel-de-Ville was - only such modicum of indifferent firelocks as we have seen. At the - so-called Arsenal, there lies nothing but rust, rubbish and - saltpetre,—overlooked too by the guns of the Bastille. His - Majesty’s Repository, what they call <i>Garde-Meuble</i>, is forced and - ransacked: tapestries enough, and gauderies; but of serviceable - fighting-gear small stock! Two silver-mounted cannons there are; an - ancient gift from his Majesty of Siam to Louis Fourteenth: gilt sword of - the Good Henri; antique Chivalry arms and armour. These, and such as - these, a necessitous Patriotism snatches greedily, for want of better. - The Siamese cannons go trundling, on an errand they were not meant for. - Among the indifferent firelocks are seen tourney-lances; the princely - helm and hauberk glittering amid ill-hatted heads,—as in a time - when all times and their possessions are suddenly sent jumbling! - </p> - - <p> - At the <i>Maison de Saint-Lazare</i>, Lazar-House once, now a - Correction-House with Priests, there was no trace of arms; but, on the - other hand, corn, plainly to a culpable extent. Out with it, to market; - in this scarcity of grains!—Heavens, will “fifty-two carts,” in - long row, hardly carry it to the <i>Halle aux Bleds?</i> Well, truly, ye - reverend Fathers, was your pantry filled; fat are your larders; - over-generous your wine-bins, ye plotting exasperators of the Poor; - traitorous forestallers of bread! - </p> - - <p> - Vain is protesting, entreaty on bare knees: the House of Saint-Lazarus - has that in it which comes not out by protesting. Behold, how, from every - window, it <i>vomits:</i> mere torrents of furniture, of bellowing and - hurlyburly;—the cellars also leaking wine. Till, as was natural, - smoke rose,—kindled, some say, by the desperate Saint-Lazaristes - themselves, desperate of other riddance; and the Establishment vanished - from this world in flame. Remark nevertheless that “a thief” (set on or - not by Aristocrats), being detected there, is “instantly hanged.” - </p> - - <p> - Look also at the Châtelet Prison. The Debtors’ Prison of La Force is - broken from without; and they that sat in bondage to Aristocrats go free: - hearing of which the Felons at the Châtelet do likewise “dig up their - pavements,” and stand on the offensive; with the best - prospects,—had not Patriotism, passing that way, “fired a volley” - into the Felon world; and crushed it down again under hatches. Patriotism - consorts not with thieving and felony: surely also Punishment, this day, - hitches (if she still hitch) after Crime, with frightful - shoes-of-swiftness! “Some score or two” of wretched persons, found - prostrate with drink in the cellars of that Saint-Lazare, are indignantly - haled to prison; the Jailor has no room; whereupon, other place of - security not suggesting itself, it is written, “<i>on les pendit</i>, - they hanged them.”<a href="#linknote-175" name="linknoteref-175" - id="linknoteref-175">[175]</a> Brief is the word; not without - significance, be it true or untrue! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In such circumstances, the Aristocrat, the unpatriotic rich man is - packing-up for departure. But he shall not get departed. A wooden-shod - force has seized all Barriers, burnt or not: all that enters, all that - seeks to issue, is stopped there, and dragged to the Hôtel-de-Ville: - coaches, tumbrils, plate, furniture, “many meal-sacks,” in time even - “flocks and herds” encumber the Place de Grève.<a href="#linknote-176" - name="linknoteref-176" id="linknoteref-176">[176]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so it roars, and rages, and brays; drums beating, steeples pealing; - criers rushing with hand-bells: ‘Oyez, oyez. All men to their Districts - to be enrolled!’ The Districts have met in gardens, open squares; are - getting marshalled into volunteer troops. No redhot ball has yet fallen - from Besenval’s Camp; on the contrary, Deserters with their arms are - continually dropping in: nay now, joy of joys, at two in the afternoon, - the Gardes Françaises, being ordered to Saint-Denis, and flatly - declining, have come over in a body! It is a fact worth many. Three - thousand six hundred of the best fighting men, with complete - accoutrement; with cannoneers even, and cannon! Their officers are left - standing alone; could not so much as succeed in “spiking the guns.” The - very Swiss, it may now be hoped, Château-Vieux and the others, will have - doubts about fighting. - </p> - - <p> - Our Parisian Militia,—which some think it were better to name - National Guard,—is prospering as heart could wish. It promised to - be forty-eight thousand; but will in few hours double and quadruple that - number: invincible, if we had only arms! - </p> - - <p> - But see, the promised Charleville Boxes, marked <i>Artillerie!</i> Here, - then, are arms enough?—Conceive the blank face of Patriotism, when - it found them filled with rags, foul linen, candle-ends, and bits of - wood! Provost of the Merchants, how is this? Neither at the Chartreux - Convent, whither we were sent with signed order, is there or ever was - there any weapon of war. Nay here, in this Seine Boat, safe under - tarpaulings (had not the nose of Patriotism been of the finest), are - “five thousand-weight of gunpowder;” not coming <i>in</i>, but - surreptitiously going out! What meanest thou, Flesselles? ’Tis a ticklish - game, that of “amusing” us. Cat plays with captive mouse: but mouse with - enraged cat, with enraged National Tiger? - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, the faster, O ye black-aproned Smiths, smite; with strong arm - and willing heart. This man and that, all stroke from head to heel, shall - thunder alternating, and ply the great forge-hammer, till stithy reel and - ring again; while ever and anon, overhead, booms the - alarm-cannon,—for the City has now got gunpowder. Pikes are - fabricated; fifty thousand of them, in six-and-thirty hours: judge - whether the Black-aproned have been idle. Dig trenches, unpave the - streets, ye others, assiduous, man and maid; cram the earth in - barrel-barricades, at each of them a volunteer sentry; pile the - whinstones in window-sills and upper rooms. Have scalding pitch, at least - boiling water ready, ye weak old women, to pour it and dash it on - Royal-Allemand, with your old skinny arms: your shrill curses along with - it will not be wanting!—Patrols of the newborn National Guard, - bearing torches, scour the streets, all that night; which otherwise are - vacant, yet illuminated in every window by order. Strange-looking; like - some naphtha-lighted City of the Dead, with here and there a flight of - perturbed Ghosts. - </p> - - <p> - O poor mortals, how ye make this Earth bitter for each other; this - fearful and wonderful Life fearful and horrible; and Satan has his place - in all hearts! Such agonies and ragings and wailings ye have, and have - had, in all times:—to be buried all, in so deep silence; and the - salt sea is not swoln with your tears. - </p> - - <p> - Great meanwhile is the moment, when tidings of Freedom reach us; when the - long-enthralled soul, from amid its chains and squalid stagnancy, arises, - were it still only in blindness and bewilderment, and swears by Him that - made it, that it will be <i>free!</i> Free? Understand that well, it is - the deep commandment, dimmer or clearer, of our whole being, to be - <i>free</i>. Freedom is the one purport, wisely aimed at, or unwisely, of - all man’s struggles, toilings and sufferings, in this Earth. Yes, supreme - is such a moment (if thou have known it): first vision as of a flame-girt - Sinai, in this our waste Pilgrimage,—which thenceforth wants not - its pillar of cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night! Something it is - even,—nay, something considerable, when the chains have grown - <i>corrosive</i>, poisonous, to be free “from oppression by our - fellow-man.” Forward, ye maddened sons of France; be it towards this - destiny or towards that! Around you is but starvation, falsehood, - corruption and the clam of death. Where ye are is no abiding. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Imagination may, imperfectly, figure how Commandant Besenval, in the - Champ-de-Mars, has worn out these sorrowful hours Insurrection all round; - his men melting away! From Versailles, to the most pressing messages, - comes no answer; or once only some vague word of answer which is worse - than none. A Council of Officers can decide merely that there is no - decision: Colonels inform him, “weeping,” that they do not think their - men will fight. Cruel uncertainty is here: war-god Broglie sits yonder, - inaccessible in his Olympus; does not descend terror-clad, does not - produce his whiff of grapeshot; sends no orders. - </p> - - <p> - Truly, in the Château of Versailles all seems mystery: in the Town of - Versailles, were we there, all is rumour, alarm and indignation. An - august National Assembly sits, to appearance, menaced with death; - endeavouring to defy death. It has resolved “that Necker carries with him - the regrets of the Nation.” It has sent solemn Deputation over to the - Château, with entreaty to have these troops withdrawn. In vain: his - Majesty, with a singular composure, invites us to be busy rather with our - own duty, making the Constitution! Foreign Pandours, and suchlike, go - pricking and prancing, with a swashbuckler air; with an eye too probably - to the <i>Salle des Menus</i>,—were it not for the “grim-looking - countenances” that crowd all avenues there.<a href="#linknote-177" - name="linknoteref-177" id="linknoteref-177">[177]</a> Be firm, ye - National Senators; the cynosure of a firm, grim-looking people! - </p> - - <p> - The august National Senators determine that there shall, at least, be - Permanent Session till this thing end. Wherein, however, consider that - worthy Lafranc de Pompignan, our new President, whom we have named - Bailly’s successor, is an old man, wearied with many things. He is the - Brother of that Pompignan who meditated lamentably on the Book of - <i>Lamentations:</i> - </p> - - <p class="poem"> - Saves-voux pourquoi Jérémie<br/> - Se lamentait toute sa vie?<br/> - C’est qu’il prévoyait<br/> - Que Pompignan le traduirait!<br/> - </p> - - <p> - Poor Bishop Pompignan withdraws; having got Lafayette for helper or - substitute: this latter, as nocturnal Vice-President, with a thin house - in disconsolate humour, sits sleepless, with lights - unsnuffed;—waiting what the hours will bring. - </p> - - <p> - So at Versailles. But at Paris, agitated Besenval, before retiring for - the night, has stept over to old M. de Sombreuil, of the <i>Hôtel des - Invalides</i> hard by. M. de Sombreuil has, what is a great secret, some - eight-and-twenty thousand stand of muskets deposited in his cellars - there; but no trust in the temper of his Invalides. This day, for - example, he sent twenty of the fellows down to unscrew those muskets; - lest Sedition might snatch at them; but scarcely, in six hours, had the - twenty unscrewed twenty gun-locks, or dogsheads (<i>chiens</i>) of - locks,—each Invalide his dogshead! If ordered to fire, they would, - he imagines, turn their cannon against himself. - </p> - - <p> - Unfortunate old military gentlemen, it is your hour, not of glory! Old - Marquis de Launay too, of the Bastille, has pulled up his drawbridges - long since, “and retired into his interior;” with sentries walking on his - battlements, under the midnight sky, aloft over the glare of illuminated - Paris;—whom a National Patrol, passing that way, takes the liberty - of firing at; “seven shots towards twelve at night,” which do not take - effect.<a href="#linknote-178" name="linknoteref-178" - id="linknoteref-178">[178]</a> This was the 13th day of July, 1789; a - worse day, many said, than the last 13th was, when only hail fell out of - Heaven, not madness rose out of Tophet, ruining worse than crops! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In these same days, as Chronology will teach us, hot old Marquis Mirabeau - lies stricken down, at Argenteuil,—<i>not</i> within sound of these - alarm-guns; for <i>he</i> properly is not there, and only the body of him - now lies, deaf and cold forever. It was on Saturday night that he, - drawing his last life-breaths, gave up the ghost there;—leaving a - world, which would never go to his mind, now broken out, seemingly, into - deliration and the <i>culbute générale</i>. What is it to him, departing - elsewhither, on his long journey? The old Château Mirabeau stands silent, - far off, on its scarped rock, in that “gorge of two windy valleys;” the - pale-fading spectre now of a Château: this huge World-riot, and France, - and the World itself, fades also, like a shadow on the great still - mirror-sea; and all shall be as God wills. - </p> - - <p> - Young Mirabeau, sad of heart, for he loved this crabbed brave old Father, - sad of heart, and occupied with sad cares,—is withdrawn from Public - History. The great crisis transacts itself without him.<a - href="#linknote-179" name="linknoteref-179" - id="linknoteref-179">[179]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"></a> - Chapter 1.5.VI.<br/> - Storm and Victory. - </h3> - - <p> - But, to the living and the struggling, a new, Fourteenth morning dawns. - Under all roofs of this distracted City, is the nodus of a drama, not - untragical, crowding towards solution. The bustlings and preparings, the - tremors and menaces; the tears that fell from old eyes! This day, my - sons, ye shall quit you like men. By the memory of your fathers’ wrongs, - by the hope of your children’s rights! Tyranny impends in red wrath: help - for you is none if not in your own right hands. This day ye must do or - die. - </p> - - <p> - From earliest light, a sleepless Permanent Committee has heard the old - cry, now waxing almost frantic, mutinous: Arms! Arms! Provost Flesselles, - or what traitors there are among you, may think of those Charleville - Boxes. A hundred-and-fifty thousand of us; and but the third man - furnished with so much as a pike! Arms are the one thing needful: with - arms we are an unconquerable man-defying National Guard; without arms, a - rabble to be whiffed with grapeshot. - </p> - - <p> - Happily the word has arisen, for no secret can be kept,—that there - lie muskets at the <i>Hôtel des Invalides</i>. Thither will we: King’s - Procureur M. Ethys de Corny, and whatsoever of authority a Permanent - Committee can lend, shall go with us. Besenval’s Camp is there; perhaps - he will not fire on us; if he kill us we shall but die. - </p> - - <p> - Alas, poor Besenval, with his troops melting away in that manner, has not - the smallest humour to fire! At five o’clock this morning, as he lay - dreaming, oblivious in the <i>Ecole Militaire</i>, a “figure” stood - suddenly at his bedside: “with face rather handsome; eyes inflamed, - speech rapid and curt, air audacious:” such a figure drew Priam’s - curtains! The message and monition of the figure was, that resistance - would be hopeless; that if blood flowed, wo to him who shed it. Thus - spoke the figure; and vanished. “Withal there was a kind of eloquence - that struck one.” Besenval admits that he should have arrested him, but - did not.<a href="#linknote-180" name="linknoteref-180" - id="linknoteref-180">[180]</a> Who this figure, with inflamed eyes, with - speech rapid and curt, might be? Besenval knows but mentions not. Camille - Desmoulins? Pythagorean Marquis Valadi, inflamed with “violent motions - all night at the Palais Royal?” Fame names him, “Young M. Meillar”;<a - href="#linknote-181" name="linknoteref-181" - id="linknoteref-181">[181]</a> Then shuts her lips about him for ever. - </p> - - <p> - In any case, behold about nine in the morning, our National Volunteers - rolling in long wide flood, south-westward to the <i>Hôtel des - Invalides;</i> in search of the one thing needful. King’s procureur M. - Ethys de Corny and officials are there; the Curé of Saint-Etienne du Mont - marches unpacific, at the head of his militant Parish; the Clerks of the - Bazoche in red coats we see marching, now Volunteers of the Bazoche; the - Volunteers of the Palais Royal:—National Volunteers, numerable by - tens of thousands; of one heart and mind. The King’s muskets are the - Nation’s; think, old M. de Sombreuil, how, in this extremity, thou wilt - refuse them! Old M. de Sombreuil would fain hold parley, send Couriers; - but it skills not: the walls are scaled, no Invalide firing a shot; the - gates must be flung open. Patriotism rushes in, tumultuous, from grundsel - up to ridge-tile, through all rooms and passages; rummaging distractedly - for arms. What cellar, or what cranny can escape it? The arms are found; - all safe there; lying packed in straw,—apparently with a view to - being burnt! More ravenous than famishing lions over dead prey, the - multitude, with clangour and vociferation, pounces on them; struggling, - dashing, clutching:—to the jamming-up, to the pressure, fracture - and probable extinction, of the weaker Patriot.<a href="#linknote-182" - name="linknoteref-182" id="linknoteref-182">[182]</a> And so, with such - protracted crash of deafening, most discordant Orchestra-music, the Scene - is changed: and eight-and-twenty thousand sufficient firelocks are on the - shoulders of so many National Guards, lifted thereby out of darkness into - fiery light. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Let Besenval look at the glitter of these muskets, as they flash by! - Gardes Françaises, it is said, have cannon levelled on him; ready to - open, if need were, from the other side of the River.<a - href="#linknote-183" name="linknoteref-183" - id="linknoteref-183">[183]</a> Motionless sits he; “astonished,” one may - flatter oneself, “at the proud bearing (<i>fière contenance</i>) of the - Parisians.”—And now, to the Bastille, ye intrepid Parisians! There - grapeshot still threatens; thither all men’s thoughts and steps are now - tending. - </p> - - <p> - Old de Launay, as we hinted, withdrew “into his interior” soon after - midnight of Sunday. He remains there ever since, hampered, as all - military gentlemen now are, in the saddest conflict of uncertainties. The - Hôtel-de-Ville “invites” him to admit National Soldiers, which is a soft - name for surrendering. On the other hand, His Majesty’s orders were - precise. His garrison is but eighty-two old Invalides, reinforced by - thirty-two young Swiss; his walls indeed are nine feet thick, he has - cannon and powder; but, alas, only one day’s provision of victuals. The - city too is French, the poor garrison mostly French. Rigorous old de - Launay, think what thou wilt do! - </p> - - <p> - All morning, since nine, there has been a cry everywhere: To the - Bastille! Repeated “deputations of citizens” have been here, passionate - for arms; whom de Launay has got dismissed by soft speeches through - portholes. Towards noon, Elector Thuriot de la Rosiere gains admittance; - finds de Launay indisposed for surrender; nay disposed for blowing up the - place rather. Thuriot mounts with him to the battlements: heaps of - paving-stones, old iron and missiles lie piled; cannon all duly levelled; - in every embrasure a cannon,—only drawn back a little! But outwards - behold, O Thuriot, how the multitude flows on, welling through every - street; tocsin furiously pealing, all drums beating the <i>générale:</i> - the Suburb Saint-Antoine rolling hitherward wholly, as one man! Such - vision (spectral yet real) thou, O Thuriot, as from thy Mount of Vision, - beholdest in this moment: prophetic of what other Phantasmagories, and - loud-gibbering Spectral Realities, which, thou yet beholdest not, but - shalt! ‘<i>Que voulez vous?</i>’ said de Launay, turning pale at the - sight, with an air of reproach, almost of menace. ‘Monsieur,’ said - Thuriot, rising into the moral-sublime, ‘What mean <i>you?</i> Consider - if I could not precipitate <i>both</i> of us from this height,’—say - only a hundred feet, exclusive of the walled ditch! Whereupon de Launay - fell silent. Thuriot shews himself from some pinnacle, to comfort the - multitude becoming suspicious, fremescent: then descends; departs with - protest; with warning addressed also to the Invalides,—on whom, - however, it produces but a mixed indistinct impression. The old heads are - none of the clearest; besides, it is said, de Launay has been profuse of - beverages (<i>prodigua des buissons</i>). They think, they will not - fire,—if not fired on, if they can help it; but must, on the whole, - be ruled considerably by circumstances. - </p> - - <p> - Wo to thee, de Launay, in such an hour, if thou canst not, taking some - one firm decision, <i>rule</i> circumstances! Soft speeches will not - serve; hard grape-shot is questionable; but hovering between the two is - <i>un</i>questionable. Ever wilder swells the tide of men; their infinite - hum waxing ever louder, into imprecations, perhaps into crackle of stray - musketry,—which latter, on walls nine feet thick, cannot do - execution. The Outer Drawbridge has been lowered for Thuriot; new - <i>deputation of citizens</i> (it is the third, and noisiest of all) - penetrates that way into the Outer Court: soft speeches producing no - clearance of these, de Launay gives fire; pulls up his Drawbridge. A - slight sputter;—which has <i>kindled</i> the too combustible chaos; - made it a roaring fire-chaos! Bursts forth insurrection, at sight of its - own blood (for there were deaths by that sputter of fire), into endless - rolling explosion of musketry, distraction, execration;—and - overhead, from the Fortress, let one great gun, with its grape-shot, go - booming, to shew what we <i>could</i> do. The Bastille is besieged! - </p> - - <p> - On, then, all Frenchmen that have hearts in their bodies! Roar with all - your throats, of cartilage and metal, ye Sons of Liberty; stir - spasmodically whatsoever of utmost faculty is in you, soul, body or - spirit; for it is the hour! Smite, thou Louis Tournay, cartwright of the - Marais, old-soldier of the Regiment Dauphine; smite at that Outer - Drawbridge chain, though the fiery hail whistles round thee! Never, over - nave or felloe, did thy axe strike such a stroke. Down with it, man; down - with it to Orcus: let the whole accursed Edifice sink thither, and - Tyranny be swallowed up for ever! Mounted, some say on the roof of the - guard-room, some “on bayonets stuck into joints of the wall,” Louis - Tournay smites, brave Aubin Bonnemere (also an old soldier) seconding - him: the chain yields, breaks; the huge Drawbridge slams down, thundering - (<i>avec fracas</i>). Glorious: and yet, alas, it is still but the - outworks. The Eight grim Towers, with their Invalides’ musketry, their - paving stones and cannon-mouths, still soar aloft intact;—Ditch - yawning impassable, stone-faced; the inner Drawbridge with its - <i>back</i> towards us: the Bastille is still to take! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To describe this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of the most - important in history) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals. Could one - but, after infinite reading, get to understand so much as the plan of the - building! But there is open Esplanade, at the end of the Rue - Saint-Antoine; there are such Forecourts, <i>Cour Avancé, Cour de - l’Orme</i>, arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights); then new - drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampart-bastions, and the grim Eight - Towers: a labyrinthic Mass, high-frowning there, of all ages from twenty - years to four hundred and twenty;—beleaguered, in this its last - hour, as we said, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance of all calibres; - throats of all capacities; men of all plans, every man his own engineer: - seldom since the war of Pygmies and Cranes was there seen so anomalous a - thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of regimentals; no one would heed - him in coloured clothes: half-pay Hulin is haranguing Gardes Françaises - in the Place de Grève. Frantic Patriots pick up the grape-shots; bear - them, still hot (or seemingly so), to the Hôtel-de-Ville:—Paris, - you perceive, is to be burnt! Flesselles is “pale to the very lips” for - the roar of the multitude grows deep. Paris wholly has got to the acme of - its frenzy; whirled, all ways, by panic madness. At every - street-barricade, there whirls simmering, a minor - whirlpool,—strengthening the barricade, since God knows what is - coming; and all minor whirlpools play distractedly into that grand - Fire-Mahlstrom which is lashing round the Bastille. - </p> - - <p> - And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant has become an - impromptu cannoneer. See Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh from - Brest, ply the King of Siam’s cannon. Singular (if we were not used to - the like): Georget lay, last night, taking his ease at his inn; the King - of Siam’s cannon also lay, knowing nothing of <i>him</i>, for a hundred - years. Yet now, at the right instant, they have got together, and - discourse eloquent music. For, hearing what was toward, Georget sprang - from the Brest Diligence, and ran. Gardes Françaises also will be here, - with real artillery: were not the walls so thick!—Upwards from the - Esplanade, horizontally from all neighbouring roofs and windows, flashes - one irregular deluge of musketry,—without effect. The Invalides lie - flat, firing comparatively at their ease from behind stone; hardly - through portholes, shew the tip of a nose. We fall, shot; and make no - impression! - </p> - - <p> - Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible! Guard-rooms are - burnt, Invalides mess-rooms. A distracted “Peruke-maker with two fiery - torches” is for burning “the saltpetres of the Arsenal;”—had not a - woman run screaming; had not a Patriot, with some tincture of Natural - Philosophy, instantly struck the wind out of him (butt of musket on pit - of stomach), overturned barrels, and stayed the devouring element. A - young beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer Courts, and thought - falsely to be de Launay’s daughter, shall be burnt in de Launay’s sight; - she lies swooned on a paillasse: but again a Patriot, it is brave Aubin - Bonnemere the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues her. Straw is burnt; - three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go up in white smoke: almost to - the choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elie had, with singed brows, to - drag back one cart; and Reole the “gigantic haberdasher” another. Smoke - as of Tophet; confusion as of Babel; noise as of the Crack of Doom! - </p> - - <p> - Blood flows, the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried into - houses of the Rue Cerisaie; the dying leave their last mandate not to - yield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall? The - walls are so thick! Deputations, three in number, arrive from the - Hôtel-de-Ville; Abbé Fouchet (who was of one) can say, with what almost - superhuman courage of benevolence.<a href="#linknote-184" - name="linknoteref-184" id="linknoteref-184">[184]</a> These wave their - Town-flag in the arched Gateway; and stand, rolling their drum; but to no - purpose. In such Crack of Doom, de Launay cannot hear them, dare not - believe them: they return, with justified rage, the whew of lead still - singing in their ears. What to do? The Firemen are here, squirting with - their fire-pumps on the Invalides’ cannon, to wet the touchholes; they - unfortunately cannot squirt so high; but produce only clouds of spray. - Individuals of classical knowledge propose <i>catapults</i>. Santerre, - the sonorous Brewer of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, advises rather that the - place be fired, by a “mixture of phosphorous and oil-of-turpentine - spouted up through forcing pumps:” O Spinola-Santerre, hast thou the - mixture <i>ready?</i> Every man his own engineer! And still the - fire-deluge abates not; even women are firing, and Turks; at least one - woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk.<a href="#linknote-185" - name="linknoteref-185" id="linknoteref-185">[185]</a> Gardes Françaises - have come: real cannon, real cannoneers. Usher Maillard is busy; half-pay - Elie, half-pay Hulin rage in the midst of thousands. - </p> - - <p> - How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court there, - at its ease, hour after hour; as if nothing special, for it or the world, - were passing! It tolled One when the firing began; and is now pointing - towards Five, and still the firing slakes not.—Far down, in their - vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as of earthquakes; their - Turnkeys answer vaguely. - </p> - - <p> - Wo to thee, de Launay, with thy poor hundred Invalides! Broglie is - distant, and his ears heavy: Besenval hears, but can send no help. One - poor troop of Hussars has crept, reconnoitring, cautiously along the - Quais, as far as the Pont Neuf. ‘We are come to join you,’ said the - Captain; for the crowd seems shoreless. A large-headed dwarfish - individual, of smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his blue - lips, for there is sense in him; and croaks: ‘Alight then, and give up - your arms!’ the Hussar-Captain is too happy to be escorted to the - Barriers, and dismissed on parole. Who the squat individual was? Men - answer, it is M. Marat, author of the excellent pacific <i>Avis au - Peuple!</i> Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy day of - emergence and new birth: and yet this same day come four - years—!—But let the curtains of the future hang. - </p> - - <p> - What shall de Launay do? One thing only de Launay could have done: what - he said he would do. Fancy him sitting, from the first, with lighted - taper, within arm’s length of the Powder-Magazine; motionless, like old - Roman Senator, or bronze Lamp-holder; coldly apprising Thuriot, and all - men, by a slight motion of his eye, what his resolution - was:—Harmless he sat there, while unharmed; but the King’s - Fortress, meanwhile, could, might, would, or should, in nowise, be - surrendered, save to the King’s Messenger: one old man’s life worthless, - so it be lost with honour; but think, ye brawling <i>canaille</i>, how - will it be when a whole Bastille springs skyward!—In such - statuesque, taper-holding attitude, one fancies de Launay might have left - Thuriot, the red Clerks of the Bazoche, Curé of Saint-Stephen and all the - tagrag-and-bobtail of the world, to work their will. - </p> - - <p> - And yet, withal, he could not do it. Hast thou considered how each man’s - heart is so tremulously responsive to the hearts of all men; hast thou - noted how omnipotent is the very sound of many men? How their shriek of - indignation palsies the strong soul; their howl of contumely withers with - unfelt pangs? The Ritter Gluck confessed that the ground-tone of the - noblest passage, in one of his noblest Operas, was the voice of the - Populace he had heard at Vienna, crying to their Kaiser: Bread! Bread! - Great is the combined voice of men; the utterance of their - <i>instincts</i>, which are truer than their <i>thoughts:</i> it is the - greatest a man encounters, among the sounds and shadows, which make up - this World of Time. He who can resist that, has his footing some where - <i>beyond</i> Time. De Launay could not do it. Distracted, he hovers - between the two; hopes in the middle of despair; surrenders not his - Fortress; declares that he will blow it up, seizes torches to blow it up, - and does not blow it. Unhappy old de Launay, it is the death-agony of thy - Bastille and thee! Jail, Jailoring and Jailor, all three, such as they - may have been, must finish. - </p> - - <p> - For four hours now has the World-Bedlam roared: call it the - World-Chimaera, blowing fire! The poor Invalides have sunk under their - battlements, or rise only with reversed muskets: they have made a white - flag of napkins; go beating the <i>chamade</i>, or seeming to beat, for - one can hear nothing. The very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of - firing; disheartened in the fire-deluge: a porthole at the drawbridge is - opened, as by one that would speak. See Huissier Maillard, the shifty - man! On his plank, swinging over the abyss of that stone-Ditch; plank - resting on parapet, balanced by weight of Patriots,—he hovers - perilous: such a Dove towards such an Ark! Deftly, thou shifty Usher: one - man already fell; and lies smashed, far down there, against the masonry! - Usher Maillard falls not: deftly, unerring he walks, with outspread palm. - The Swiss holds a paper through his porthole; the shifty Usher snatches - it, and returns. Terms of surrender: Pardon, immunity to all! Are they - accepted?—‘<i>Foi d’officier</i>, On the word of an officer,’ - answers half-pay Hulin,—or half-pay Elie, for men do not agree on - it, ‘they are!’ Sinks the drawbridge,—Usher Maillard bolting it - when down; rushes-in the living deluge: the Bastille is fallen! - <i>Victoire! La Bastille est prise!</i><a href="#linknote-186" - name="linknoteref-186" id="linknoteref-186">[186]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"></a> - Chapter 1.5.VII.<br/> - Not a Revolt. - </h3> - - <p> - Why dwell on what follows? Hulin’s <i>foi d’officier</i> should have been - kept, but could not. The Swiss stand drawn up; disguised in white canvas - smocks; the Invalides without disguise; their arms all piled against the - wall. The first rush of victors, in ecstacy that the death-peril is - passed, “leaps joyfully on their necks;” but new victors rush, and ever - new, also in ecstacy not wholly of joy. As we said, it was a living - deluge, plunging headlong; had not the Gardes Françaises, in their cool - military way, “wheeled round with arms levelled,” it would have plunged - suicidally, by the hundred or the thousand, into the Bastille-ditch. - </p> - - <p> - And so it goes plunging through court and corridor; billowing - uncontrollable, firing from windows—on itself: in hot frenzy of - triumph, of grief and vengeance for its slain. The poor Invalides will - fare ill; one Swiss, running off in his white smock, is driven back, with - a death-thrust. Let all prisoners be marched to the Townhall, to be - judged!—Alas, already one poor Invalide has his right hand slashed - off him; his maimed body dragged to the Place de Grève, and hanged there. - This same right hand, it is said, turned back de Launay from the - Powder-Magazine, and saved Paris. - </p> - - <p> - De Launay, “discovered in gray frock with poppy-coloured riband,” is for - killing himself with the sword of his cane. He shall to the - Hôtel-de-Ville; Hulin Maillard and others escorting him; Elie marching - foremost “with the capitulation-paper on his sword’s point.” Through - roarings and cursings; through hustlings, clutchings, and at last through - strokes! Your escort is hustled aside, felled down; Hulin sinks exhausted - on a heap of stones. Miserable de Launay! He shall never enter the Hotel - de Ville: only his “bloody hair-queue, held up in a bloody hand;” that - shall enter, for a sign. The bleeding trunk lies on the steps there; the - head is off through the streets; ghastly, aloft on a pike. - </p> - - <p> - Rigorous de Launay has died; crying out, ‘O friends, kill me fast!’ - Merciful de Losme must die; though Gratitude embraces him, in this - fearful hour, and will die for him; it avails not. Brothers, your wrath - is cruel! Your Place de Grève is become a Throat of the Tiger; full of - mere fierce bellowings, and thirst of blood. One other officer is - massacred; one other Invalide is hanged on the Lamp-iron: with - difficulty, with generous perseverance, the Gardes Françaises will save - the rest. Provost Flesselles stricken long since with the paleness of - death, must descend from his seat, “to be judged at the Palais - Royal:”—alas, to be shot dead, by an unknown hand, at the turning - of the first street!— - </p> - - <p> - O evening sun of July, how, at this hour, thy beams fall slant on reapers - amid peaceful woody fields; on old women spinning in cottages; on ships - far out in the silent main; on Balls at the Orangerie of Versailles, - where high-rouged Dames of the Palace are even now dancing with - double-jacketted Hussar-Officers;—and also on this roaring Hell - porch of a Hôtel-de-Ville! Babel Tower, with the confusion of tongues, - were not Bedlam added with the conflagration of thoughts, was no type of - it. One forest of distracted steel bristles, endless, in front of an - Electoral Committee; points itself, in horrid radii, against this and the - other accused breast. It was the Titans warring with Olympus; and they - scarcely crediting it, have <i>conquered:</i> prodigy of prodigies; - delirious,—as it could not but be. Denunciation, vengeance; blaze - of triumph on a dark ground of terror: all outward, all inward things - fallen into one general wreck of madness! - </p> - - <p> - Electoral Committee? Had it a thousand throats of brass, it would not - suffice. Abbé Lefevre, in the Vaults down below, is black as Vulcan, - distributing that “five thousand weight of Powder;” with what perils, - these eight-and-forty hours! Last night, a Patriot, in liquor, insisted - on sitting to smoke on the edge of one of the Powder-barrels; there - smoked he, independent of the world,—till the Abbé “purchased his - pipe for three francs,” and pitched it far. - </p> - - <p> - Elie, in the grand Hall, Electoral Committee looking on, sits “with drawn - sword bent in three places;” with battered helm, for he was of the - Queen’s Regiment, Cavalry; with torn regimentals, face singed and soiled; - comparable, some think, to “an antique warrior;”—judging the - people; forming a list of Bastille Heroes. O Friends, stain not with - blood the greenest laurels ever gained in this world: such is the burden - of Elie’s song; could it but be listened to. Courage, Elie! Courage, ye - Municipal Electors! A declining sun; the need of victuals, and of telling - news, will bring assuagement, dispersion: all earthly things must end. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Along the streets of Paris circulate Seven Bastille Prisoners, borne - shoulder-high: seven Heads on pikes; the Keys of the Bastille; and much - else. See also the Garde Françaises, in their steadfast military way, - marching home to their barracks, with the Invalides and Swiss kindly - enclosed in hollow square. It is one year and two months since these same - men stood unparticipating, with Brennus d’Agoust at the Palais de - Justice, when Fate overtook d’Espréménil; and now they have participated; - and will participate. Not Gardes Françaises henceforth, but <i>Centre - Grenadiers of the National Guard:</i> men of iron discipline and - humour,—not without a kind of thought in them! - </p> - - <p> - Likewise ashlar stones of the Bastille continue thundering through the - dusk; its paper-archives shall fly white. Old secrets come to view; and - long-buried Despair finds voice. Read this portion of an old Letter:<a - href="#linknote-187" name="linknoteref-187" - id="linknoteref-187">[187]</a> “If for my consolation Monseigneur would - grant me for the sake of God and the Most Blessed Trinity, that I could - have news of my dear wife; were it only her name on card to shew that she - is alive! It were the greatest consolation I could receive; and I should - for ever bless the greatness of Monseigneur.” Poor Prisoner, who namest - thyself <i>Quéret Démery</i>, and hast no other history,—she is - <i>dead</i>, that dear wife of thine, and thou art dead! ’Tis fifty years - since thy breaking heart put this question; to be heard now first, and - long heard, in the hearts of men. - </p> - - <p> - But so does the July twilight thicken; so must Paris, as sick children, - and all distracted creatures do, brawl itself finally into a kind of - sleep. Municipal Electors, astonished to find their heads still - uppermost, are home: only Moreau de Saint-Méry of tropical birth and - heart, of coolest judgment; he, with two others, shall sit permanent at - the Townhall. Paris sleeps; gleams upward the illuminated City: patrols - go clashing, without common watchword; there go rumours; alarms of war, - to the extent of “fifteen thousand men marching through the Suburb - Saint-Antoine,”—who never got it marched through. Of the day’s - distraction judge by this of the night: Moreau de Saint-Méry, “before - rising from his seat, gave upwards of three thousand orders.”<a - href="#linknote-188" name="linknoteref-188" - id="linknoteref-188">[188]</a> What a head; comparable to Friar Bacon’s - Brass Head! Within it lies all Paris. Prompt must the answer be, right or - wrong; in Paris is no other Authority extant. Seriously, a most cool - clear head;—for which also thou O brave Saint-Méry, in many - capacities, from august Senator to Merchant’s-Clerk, Book-dealer, - Vice-King; in many places, from Virginia to Sardinia, shalt, ever as a - brave man, find employment.<a href="#linknote-189" name="linknoteref-189" - id="linknoteref-189">[189]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Besenval has decamped, under cloud of dusk, “amid a great affluence of - people,” who did not harm him; he marches, with faint-growing tread, down - the left bank of the Seine, all night,—towards infinite space. - Resummoned shall Besenval himself be; for trial, for difficult acquittal. - His King’s-troops, his Royal Allemand, are gone hence for ever. - </p> - - <p> - The Versailles Ball and lemonade is done; the Orangery is silent except - for nightbirds. Over in the Salle des Menus, Vice-president Lafayette, - with unsnuffed lights, “with some hundred of members, stretched on tables - round him,” sits erect; outwatching the Bear. This day, a second solemn - Deputation went to his Majesty; a second, and then a third: with no - effect. What will the end of these things be? - </p> - - <p> - In the Court, all is mystery, not without whisperings of terror; though - ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye foolish women! His Majesty, kept - in happy ignorance, perhaps dreams of double-barrels and the Woods of - Meudon. Late at night, the Duke de Liancourt, having official right of - entrance, gains access to the Royal Apartments; unfolds, with earnest - clearness, in his constitutional way, the Job’s-news. ‘<i>Mais</i>,’ said - poor Louis, ‘<i>c’est une révolte</i>, Why, that is a - revolt!’—‘Sire,’ answered Liancourt, ‘It is not a revolt, it is a - revolution.’ - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"></a> - Chapter 1.5.VIII.<br/> - Conquering your King. - </h3> - - <p> - On the morrow a fourth Deputation to the Château is on foot: of a more - solemn, not to say awful character, for, besides “orgies in the - Orangery,” it seems, “the grain convoys are all stopped;” nor has - Mirabeau’s thunder been silent. Such Deputation is on the point of - setting out—when lo, his Majesty himself attended only by his two - Brothers, step in; quite in the paternal manner; announces that the - troops, and all causes of offence, are gone, and henceforth there shall - be nothing but trust, reconcilement, good-will; whereof he “permits and - even requests,” a National Assembly to assure Paris in his name! - Acclamation, as of men suddenly delivered from death, gives answer. The - whole Assembly spontaneously rises to escort his Majesty back; - “interlacing their arms to keep off the excessive pressure from him;” for - all Versailles is crowding and shouting. The Château Musicians, with a - felicitous promptitude, strike up the <i>Sein de sa Famille</i> (Bosom of - one’s Family): the Queen appears at the balcony with her little boy and - girl, “kissing them several times;” infinite <i>Vivats</i> spread far and - wide;—and suddenly there has come, as it were, a new - Heaven-on-Earth. - </p> - - <p> - Eighty-eight august Senators, Bailly, Lafayette, and our repentant - Archbishop among them, take coach for Paris, with the great intelligence; - benedictions without end on their heads. From the Place Louis Quinze, - where they alight, all the way to the Hôtel-de-Ville, it is one sea of - Tricolor cockades, of clear National muskets; one tempest of huzzaings, - hand-clappings, aided by “occasional rollings” of drum-music. Harangues - of due fervour are delivered; especially by Lally Tollendal, pious son of - the ill-fated murdered Lally; on whose head, in consequence, a civic - crown (of oak or parsley) is forced,—which he forcibly transfers to - Bailly’s. - </p> - - <p> - But surely, for one thing, the National Guard must have a General! Moreau - de Saint-Méry, he of the “three thousand orders,” casts one of his - significant glances on the Bust of Lafayette, which has stood there ever - since the American War of Liberty. Whereupon, by acclamation, Lafayette - is nominated. Again, in room of the slain traitor or quasi-traitor - Flesselles, President Bailly shall be—Provost of the Merchants? No: - Mayor of Paris! So be it. <i>Maire de Paris!</i> Mayor Bailly, General - Lafayette; <i>vive Bailly, vive Lafayette</i>—the universal - out-of-doors multitude rends the welkin in confirmation.—And now, - finally, let us to Notre-Dame for a <i>Te Deum.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Towards Notre-Dame Cathedral, in glad procession, these Regenerators of - the Country walk, through a jubilant people; in fraternal manner; Abbé - Lefevre, still black with his gunpowder services, walking arm in arm with - the white-stoled Archbishop. Poor Bailly comes upon the Foundling - Children, sent to kneel to him; and “weeps.” <i>Te Deum</i>, our - Archbishop officiating, is not only sung, but <i>shot</i>—with - blank cartridges. Our joy is boundless as our wo threatened to be. Paris, - by her own pike and musket, and the valour of her own heart, has - conquered the very wargods,—to the satisfaction now of Majesty - itself. A courier is, this night, getting under way for Necker: the - People’s Minister, invited back by King, by National Assembly, and - Nation, shall traverse France amid shoutings, and the sound of trumpet - and timbrel. - </p> - - <p> - Seeing which course of things, Messeigneurs of the Court Triumvirate, - Messieurs of the dead-born Broglie-Ministry, and others such, consider - that their part also is clear: to mount and ride. Off, ye too-loyal - Broglies, Polignacs, and Princes of the Blood; off while it is yet time! - Did not the Palais-Royal in its late nocturnal “violent motions,” set a - specific price (place of payment not mentioned) on each of your - heads?—With precautions, with the aid of pieces of cannon and - regiments that can be depended on, Messeigneurs, between the 16th night - and the 17th morning, get to their several roads. Not without risk! - Prince Condé has (or seems to have) “men galloping at full speed;” with a - view, it is thought, to fling him into the river Oise, at - Pont-Sainte-Mayence.<a href="#linknote-190" name="linknoteref-190" - id="linknoteref-190">[190]</a> The Polignacs travel disguised; friends, - not servants, on their coach-box. Broglie has his own difficulties at - Versailles, runs his own risks at Metz and Verdun; does nevertheless get - safe to Luxemburg, and there rests. - </p> - - <p> - This is what they call the First Emigration; determined on, as appears, - in full Court-conclave; his Majesty assisting; prompt he, for his share - of it, to follow any counsel whatsoever. “Three Sons of France, and four - Princes of the blood of Saint Louis,” says Weber, “could not more - effectually humble the Burghers of Paris than by appearing to withdraw - in fear of their life.” Alas, the Burghers of Paris bear it with - unexpected Stoicism! The Man d’Artois indeed is gone; but has he carried, - for example, the Land D’Artois with him? Not even Bagatelle the - Country-house (which shall be useful as a Tavern); hardly the four-valet - Breeches, leaving the Breeches-maker!—As for old Foulon, one learns - that he is dead; at least a “sumptuous funeral” is going on; the - undertakers honouring him, if no other will. Intendant Berthier, his - son-in-law, is still living; lurking: he joined Besenval, on that - Eumenides’ Sunday; appearing to treat it with levity; and is now fled no - man knows whither. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The Emigration is not gone many miles, Prince Condé hardly across the - Oise, when his Majesty, according to arrangement, for the Emigration also - thought it might do good,—undertakes a rather daring enterprise: - that of visiting Paris in person. With a Hundred Members of Assembly; - with small or no military escort, which indeed he dismissed at the Bridge - of Sèvres, poor Louis sets out; leaving a desolate Palace; a Queen - weeping, the Present, the Past, and the Future all so unfriendly for her. - </p> - - <p> - At the Barrier of Passy, Mayor Bailly, in grand gala, presents him with - the keys; harangues him, in Academic style; mentions that it is a great - day; that in Henri Quatre’s case, the King had to make conquest of his - People, but in this happier case, the People makes conquest of its King - (<i>a conquis son Roi</i>). The King, so happily conquered, drives - forward, slowly, through a steel people, all silent, or shouting only - <i>Vive la Nation;</i> is harangued at the Townhall, by Moreau of the - three-thousand orders, by King’s Procureur M. Ethys de Corny, by Lally - Tollendal, and others; knows not what to think of it, or say of it; - learns that he is “Restorer of French Liberty,”—as a Statue of him, - to be raised on the site of the Bastille, shall testify to all men. - Finally, he is shewn at the Balcony, with a Tricolor cockade in his hat; - is greeted now, with vehement acclamation, from Square and Street, from - all windows and roofs:—and so drives home again amid glad mingled - and, as it were, intermarried shouts, of <i>Vive le Roi</i> and <i>Vive - la Nation;</i> wearied but safe. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - It was Sunday when the red-hot balls hung over us, in mid air: it is now - but Friday, and “the Revolution is sanctioned.” An August National - Assembly shall make the Constitution; and neither foreign Pandour, - domestic Triumvirate, with levelled Cannon, Guy-Faux powder-plots (for - that too was spoken of); nor any tyrannic Power on the Earth, or under - the Earth, shall say to it, What dost thou?—So jubilates the - people; sure now of a Constitution. Cracked Marquis Saint-Huruge is heard - under the windows of the Château; murmuring sheer speculative-treason.<a - href="#linknote-191" name="linknoteref-191" - id="linknoteref-191">[191]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"></a> - Chapter 1.5.IX.<br/> - The Lanterne. - </h3> - - <p> - The Fall of the Bastille may be said to have shaken all France to the - deepest foundations of its existence. The rumour of these wonders flies - every where: with the natural speed of Rumour; with an effect thought to - be preternatural, produced by plots. Did d’Orléans or Laclos, nay did - Mirabeau (not overburdened with money at this time) send riding Couriers - out from Paris; to gallop “on all radii,” or highways, towards all points - of France? It is a miracle, which no penetrating man will call in - question.<a href="#linknote-192" name="linknoteref-192" - id="linknoteref-192">[192]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Already in most Towns, Electoral Committees were met; to regret Necker, - in harangue and resolution. In many a Town, as Rennes, Caen, Lyons, an - ebullient people was already regretting him in brickbats and musketry. - But now, at every Town’s-end in France, there do arrive, in these days of - terror,—“men,” as men will arrive; nay, “men on horseback,” since - Rumour oftenest travels riding. These men declare, with alarmed - countenance, <i>The</i> BRIGANDS to be coming, to be just at hand; and do - then—ride on, about their further business, be what it might! - Whereupon the whole population of such Town, defensively flies to arms. - Petition is soon thereafter forwarded to National Assembly; in such peril - and terror of peril, leave to organise yourself cannot be withheld: the - armed population becomes everywhere an enrolled National Guard. Thus - rides Rumour, careering along all radii, from Paris outwards, to such - purpose: in few days, some say in not many hours, all France to the - utmost borders bristles with bayonets. Singular, but - undeniable,—miraculous or not!—But thus may any chemical - liquid; though cooled to the freezing-point, or far lower, still continue - liquid; and then, on the slightest stroke or shake, it at once rushes - wholly into ice. Thus has France, for long months and even years, been - chemically dealt with; brought below zero; and now, shaken by the Fall of - a Bastille, it instantaneously congeals: into one crystallised mass, of - sharp-cutting steel! <i>Guai a chi la tocca;</i> ’Ware who touches it! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In Paris, an Electoral Committee, with a new Mayor and General, is urgent - with belligerent workmen to resume their handicrafts. Strong Dames of the - Market (<i>Dames de la Halle</i>) deliver congratulatory harangues; - present “bouquets to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve.” Unenrolled men - deposit their arms,—not so readily as could be wished; and receive - “nine francs.” With <i>Te Deums</i>, Royal Visits, and sanctioned - Revolution, there is halcyon weather; weather even of preternatural - brightness; the hurricane being overblown. - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless, as is natural, the waves still run high, hollow rocks - retaining their murmur. We are but at the 22nd of the month, hardly above - a week since the Bastille fell, when it suddenly appears that old Foulon - is alive; nay, that he is here, in early morning, in the streets of - Paris; the extortioner, the plotter, who would make the people eat grass, - and was a liar from the beginning!—It is even so. The deceptive - “sumptuous funeral” (of some domestic that died); the hiding-place at - Vitry towards Fontainbleau, have not availed that wretched old man. Some - living domestic or dependant, for none loves Foulon, has betrayed him to - the Village. Merciless boors of Vitry unearth him; pounce on him, like - hell-hounds: Westward, old Infamy; to Paris, to be judged at the - Hôtel-de-Ville! His old head, which seventy-four years have bleached, is - bare; they have tied an emblematic bundle of grass on his back; a garland - of nettles and thistles is round his neck: in this manner; led with - ropes; goaded on with curses and menaces, must he, with his old limbs, - sprawl forward; the pitiablest, most unpitied of all old men. - </p> - - <p> - Sooty Saint-Antoine, and every street, mustering its crowds as he - passes,—the Place de Grève, the Hall of the Hôtel-de-Ville will - scarcely hold his escort and him. Foulon must not only be judged - righteously; but judged there where he stands, without any delay. Appoint - seven judges, ye Municipals, or seventy-and-seven; name them yourselves, - or we will name them: but judge him!<a href="#linknote-193" - name="linknoteref-193" id="linknoteref-193">[193]</a> Electoral rhetoric, - eloquence of Mayor Bailly, is wasted explaining the beauty of the Law’s - delay. Delay, and still delay! Behold, O Mayor of the People, the morning - has worn itself into noon; and he is still unjudged!—Lafayette, - pressingly sent for, arrives; gives voice: This Foulon, a known man, is - guilty almost beyond doubt; but may he not have accomplices? Ought not - the truth to be cunningly pumped out of him,—in the Abbaye Prison? - It is a new light! Sansculottism claps hands;—at which - hand-clapping, Foulon (in his fainness, as his Destiny would have it) - also claps. ‘See! they understand one another!’ cries dark Sansculottism, - blazing into fury of suspicion.—‘Friends,’ said “a person in good - clothes,” stepping forward, ‘what is the use of judging this man? Has he - not been judged these thirty years?’ With wild yells, Sansculottism - clutches him, in its hundred hands: he is whirled across the Place de - Grève, to the “<i>Lanterne</i>,” Lamp-iron which there is at the corner - of the <i>Rue de la Vannerie;</i> pleading bitterly for life,—to - the deaf winds. Only with the third rope (for two ropes broke, and the - quavering voice still pleaded), can he be so much as got hanged! His Body - is dragged through the streets; his Head goes aloft on a pike, the mouth - filled with grass: amid sounds as of Tophet, from a grass-eating - people.<a href="#linknote-194" name="linknoteref-194" - id="linknoteref-194">[194]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Surely if Revenge is a “kind of Justice,” it is a “wild” kind! O mad - Sansculottism hast thou risen, in thy mad darkness, in thy soot and rags; - unexpectedly, like an Enceladus, living-buried, from under his Trinacria? - They that would make grass be eaten do now eat grass, in <i>this</i> - manner? After long dumb-groaning generations, has the turn suddenly - become thine?—To such abysmal overturns, and frightful - instantaneous inversions of the centre-of-gravity, are human Solecisms - all liable, if they but knew it; the more liable, the falser (and - topheavier) they are!— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To add to the horror of Mayor Bailly and his Municipals, word comes that - Berthier has also been arrested; that he is on his way hither from - Compiègne. Berthier, Intendant (say, <i>Tax-levier</i>) of Paris; - sycophant and tyrant; forestaller of Corn; contriver of Camps against the - people;—accused of many things: is he not Foulon’s son-in-law; and, - in that one point, guilty of all? In these hours too, when Sansculottism - has its blood up! The shuddering Municipals send one of their number to - escort him, with mounted National Guards. - </p> - - <p> - At the fall of day, the wretched Berthier, still wearing a face of - courage, arrives at the Barrier; in an open carriage; with the Municipal - beside him; five hundred horsemen with drawn sabres; unarmed footmen - enough, not without noise! Placards go brandished round him; bearing - legibly his indictment, as Sansculottism, with unlegal brevity, “in huge - letters,” draws it up.<a href="#linknote-195" name="linknoteref-195" - id="linknoteref-195">[195]</a> Paris is come forth to meet him: with - hand-clappings, with windows flung up; with dances, triumph-songs, as of - the Furies! Lastly the Head of Foulon: this also meets him on a pike. - Well might his “look become glazed,” and sense fail him, at such - sight!—Nevertheless, be the man’s conscience what it may, his - nerves are of iron. At the Hôtel-de-Ville, he will answer nothing. He - says, he obeyed superior order; they have his papers; they may judge and - determine: as for himself, not having closed an eye these two nights, he - demands, before all things, to have sleep. Leaden sleep, thou miserable - Berthier! Guards rise with him, in motion towards the Abbaye. At the very - door of the Hôtel-de-Ville, they are clutched; flung asunder, as by a - vortex of mad arms; Berthier whirls towards the Lanterne. He snatches a - musket; fells and strikes, defending himself like a mad lion; is borne - down, trampled, hanged, mangled: his Head too, and even his Heart, flies - over the City on a pike. - </p> - - <p> - Horrible, in Lands that had known equal justice! Not so unnatural in - Lands that had never known it. <i>Le sang qui coule est-il donc si - pure?</i> asks Barnave; intimating that the Gallows, though by irregular - methods, has its own.—Thou thyself, O Reader, when thou turnest - that corner of the Rue de la Vannerie, and discernest still that same - grim Bracket of old Iron, wilt not want for reflections. “Over a grocer’s - shop,” or otherwise; with “a bust of Louis XIV. in the niche under it,” - or now no longer in the niche,—<i>it</i> still sticks there: still - holding out an ineffectual light, of fish-oil; and has seen worlds - wrecked, and says nothing. - </p> - - <p> - But to the eye of enlightened Patriotism, what a thunder-cloud was this; - suddenly shaping itself in the radiance of the halcyon weather! Cloud of - Erebus blackness: betokening latent electricity without limit. Mayor - Bailly, General Lafayette throw up their commissions, in an indignant - manner;—need to be flattered back again. The cloud disappears, as - thunder-clouds do. The halcyon weather returns, though of a grayer - complexion; of a character more and more evidently <i>not</i> - supernatural. - </p> - - <p> - Thus, in any case, with what rubs soever, shall the Bastille be abolished - from our Earth; and with it, Feudalism, Despotism; and, one hopes, - Scoundrelism generally, and all hard usage of man by his brother man. - Alas, the Scoundrelism and hard usage are not so easy of abolition! But - as for the Bastille, it sinks day after day, and month after month; its - ashlars and boulders tumbling down continually, by express order of our - Municipals. Crowds of the curious roam through its caverns; gaze on the - skeletons found walled up, on the <i>oubliettes</i>, iron cages, - monstrous stone-blocks with padlock chains. One day we discern Mirabeau - there; along with the Genevese Dumont.<a href="#linknote-196" - name="linknoteref-196" id="linknoteref-196">[196]</a> Workers and - onlookers make reverent way for him; fling verses, flowers on his path, - Bastille-papers and curiosities into his carriage, with <i>vivats.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Able Editors compile Books from the <i>Bastille Archives;</i> from what - of them remain unburnt. The Key of that Robber-Den shall cross the - Atlantic; shall lie on Washington’s hall-table. The great Clock ticks now - in a private patriotic Clockmaker’s apartment; no longer measuring hours - of mere heaviness. Vanished is the Bastille, what we call vanished: the - <i>body</i>, or sandstones, of it hanging, in benign metamorphosis, for - centuries to come, over the Seine waters, as <i>Pont Louis Seize</i>;<a - href="#linknote-197" name="linknoteref-197" - id="linknoteref-197">[197]</a> the soul of it living, perhaps still - longer, in the memories of men. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So far, ye august Senators, with your Tennis-Court Oaths, your inertia - and impetus, your sagacity and pertinacity, have ye brought us. ‘And yet - think, Messieurs,’ as the Petitioner justly urged, ‘you who were our - saviours, did yourselves need saviours,’—the brave Bastillers, - namely; workmen of Paris; many of them in straightened pecuniary - circumstances! <a href="#linknote-198" name="linknoteref-198" - id="linknoteref-198">[198]</a> Subscriptions are opened; Lists are - formed, more accurate than Elie’s; harangues are delivered. A Body of - <i>Bastille Heroes</i>, tolerably complete, did get - together;—comparable to the Argonauts; hoping to endure like them. - But in little more than a year, the whirlpool of things threw them - asunder again, and they sank. So many highest superlatives achieved by - man are followed by new higher; and dwindle into comparatives and - positives! The Siege of the Bastille, weighed with which, in the - Historical balance, most other sieges, including that of Troy Town, are - gossamer, cost, as we find, in killed and mortally wounded, on the part - of the Besiegers, some Eighty-three persons: on the part of the Besieged, - after all that straw-burning, fire-pumping, and deluge of musketry, One - poor solitary invalid, shot stone-dead (<i>roide-mort</i>) on the - battlements;<a href="#linknote-199" name="linknoteref-199" - id="linknoteref-199">[199]</a> The Bastille Fortress, like the City of - Jericho, was overturned by miraculous <i>sound.</i> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"></a> - BOOK VI.<br/> - CONSOLIDATION - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"></a> - Chapter 1.6.I.<br/> - Make the Constitution. - </h3> - - <p> - Here perhaps is the place to fix, a little more precisely, what these two - words, <i>French Revolution</i>, shall mean; for, strictly considered, - they may have as many meanings as there are speakers of them. All things - are in revolution; in change from moment to moment, which becomes - sensible from epoch to epoch: in this Time-World of ours there is - properly nothing else but revolution and mutation, and even nothing else - conceivable. Revolution, you answer, means <i>speedier</i> change. - Whereupon one has still to ask: How speedy? At what degree of speed; in - what particular points of this variable course, which varies in velocity, - but can never stop till Time itself stops, does revolution begin and end; - cease to be ordinary mutation, and again become such? It is a thing that - will depend on definition more or less arbitrary. - </p> - - <p> - For ourselves we answer that French Revolution means here the open - violent Rebellion, and Victory, of disimprisoned Anarchy against corrupt - worn-out Authority: how Anarchy breaks prison; bursts up from the - infinite Deep, and rages uncontrollable, immeasurable, enveloping a - world; in phasis after phasis of fever-frenzy;—till the frenzy - burning itself out, and what elements of new Order it held (since all - Force holds such) developing themselves, the Uncontrollable be got, if - not reimprisoned, yet harnessed, and its mad forces made to work towards - their object as sane regulated ones. For as Hierarchies and Dynasties of - all kinds, Theocracies, Aristocracies, Autocracies, Strumpetocracies, - have ruled over the world; so it was appointed, in the decrees of - Providence, that this same Victorious Anarchy, Jacobinism, Sansculottism, - French Revolution, Horrors of French Revolution, or what else mortals - name it, should have its turn. The “destructive wrath” of Sansculottism: - this is what we speak, having unhappily no voice for singing. - </p> - - <p> - Surely a great Phenomenon: nay it is a <i>transcendental</i> one, - overstepping all rules and experience; the crowning Phenomenon of our - Modern Time. For here again, most unexpectedly, comes antique Fanaticism - in new and newest vesture; miraculous, as all Fanaticism is. Call it the - Fanaticism of “making away with formulas, <i>de humer les formules</i>.” - The world of formulas, the <i>formed</i> regulated world, which all - habitable world is,—must needs hate such Fanaticism like death; and - be at deadly variance with it. The world of formulas must conquer it; or - failing that, must die execrating it, anathematising it;—can - nevertheless in nowise prevent its being and its having been. The - Anathemas are there, and the miraculous Thing is there. - </p> - - <p> - Whence it cometh? Whither it goeth? These are questions! When the age of - Miracles lay faded into the distance as an incredible tradition, and even - the age of Conventionalities was now old; and Man’s Existence had for - long generations rested on mere formulas which were grown hollow by - course of time; and it seemed as if no Reality any longer existed but - only Phantasms of realities, and God’s Universe were the work of the - Tailor and Upholsterer mainly, and men were buckram masks that went about - becking and grimacing there,—on a sudden, the Earth yawns asunder, - and amid Tartarean smoke, and glare of fierce brightness, rises - SANSCULOTTISM, many-headed, fire-breathing, and asks: What think ye of - <i>me?</i> Well may the buckram masks start together, terror-struck; - “into expressive well-concerted groups!” It is indeed, Friends, a most - singular, most fatal thing. Let whosoever is but buckram and a phantasm - look to it: ill verily may it fare with him; here methinks he cannot much - longer be. Wo also to many a one who is not wholly buckram, but partially - real and human! The age of Miracles has come back! “Behold the - World-Phoenix, in fire-consummation and fire-creation; wide are her - fanning wings; loud is her death-melody, of battle-thunders and falling - towns; skyward lashes the funeral flame, enveloping all things: it is the - Death-Birth of a World!” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Whereby, however, as we often say, shall one unspeakable blessing seem - attainable. This, namely: that Man and his Life rest no more on - hollowness and a Lie, but on solidity and some kind of Truth. Welcome, - the beggarliest truth, so it <i>be</i> one, in exchange for the royallest - sham! Truth of any kind breeds ever new and better truth; thus hard - granite rock will crumble down into soil, under the blessed skyey - influences; and cover itself with verdure, with fruitage and umbrage. But - as for Falsehood, which in like contrary manner, grows ever - falser,—what can it, or what should it do but decease, being ripe; - decompose itself, gently or even violently, and return to the Father of - it,—too probably in flames of fire? - </p> - - <p> - Sansculottism will burn much; but what is incombustible it will not burn. - Fear not Sansculottism; recognise it for what it is, the portentous, - inevitable end of much, the miraculous beginning of much. One other thing - thou mayest understand of it: that it too came from God; for has it not - <i>been?</i> From of old, as it is written, are His goings forth; in the - great Deep of things; fearful and wonderful now as in the beginning: in - the whirlwind also He speaks! and the wrath of men is made to praise - Him.—But to gauge and measure this immeasurable Thing, and what is - called <i>account for it</i>, and reduce it to a dead logic-formula, - attempt not! Much less shalt thou shriek thyself hoarse, cursing it; for - that, to all needful lengths, has been already done. As an actually - existing Son of Time, <i>look</i>, with unspeakable manifold interest, - oftenest in silence, at what the Time did bring: therewith edify, - instruct, nourish thyself, or were it but to amuse and gratify thyself, - as it is given thee. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Another question which at every new turn will rise on us, requiring ever - new reply is this: Where the French Revolution specially <i>is?</i> In - the King’s Palace, in his Majesty’s or her Majesty’s managements, and - maltreatments, cabals, imbecilities and woes, answer some few:—whom - we do not answer. In the National Assembly, answer a large mixed - multitude: who accordingly seat themselves in the Reporter’s Chair; and - therefrom noting what Proclamations, Acts, Reports, passages of - logic-fence, bursts of parliamentary eloquence seem notable within doors, - and what tumults and rumours of tumult become audible from - without,—produce volume on volume; and, naming it History of the - French Revolution, contentedly publish the same. To do the like, to - almost any extent, with so many Filed Newspapers, <i>Choix des Rapports, - Histoires Parlementaires</i> as there are, amounting to many horseloads, - were easy for us. Easy but unprofitable. The National Assembly, named now - Constituent Assembly, goes its course; making the Constitution; but the - French Revolution also goes <i>its</i> course. - </p> - - <p> - In general, may we not say that the French Revolution lies in the heart - and head of every violent-speaking, of every violent-thinking French Man? - How the Twenty-five Millions of such, in their perplexed combination, - acting and counter-acting may give birth to events; which event - successively is the cardinal one; and from what point of vision it may - best be surveyed: this is a problem. Which problem the best insight, - seeking light from all possible sources, shifting its point of vision - whithersoever vision or glimpse of vision can be had, may employ itself - in solving; and be well content to solve in some tolerably approximate - way. - </p> - - <p> - As to the National Assembly, in so far as it still towers eminent over - France, after the manner of a car-borne <i>Carroccio</i>, though now no - longer in the van; and rings signals for retreat or for advance,—it - is and continues a reality among other realities. But in so far as it - sits making the Constitution, on the other hand, it is a fatuity and - chimera mainly. Alas, in the never so heroic building of - Montesquieu-Mably card-castles, though shouted over by the world, what - interest is there? Occupied in that way, an august National Assembly - becomes for us little other than a Sanhedrim of pedants, not of the - gerund-grinding, yet of no fruitfuller sort; and its loud debatings and - recriminations about Rights of Man, Right of Peace and War, <i>Veto - suspensif, Veto absolu</i>, what are they but so many Pedant’s-curses, - “May God confound you for your <i>Theory of Irregular Verbs!</i>” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - A Constitution can be built, Constitutions enough <i>à la Sieyes:</i> but - the frightful difficulty is that of getting men to come and live in them! - Could Sieyes have drawn thunder and lightning out of Heaven to sanction - his Constitution, it had been well: but without any thunder? Nay, - strictly considered, is it not still true that without some such - celestial sanction, given visibly in thunder or invisibly otherwise, no - Constitution can in the long run be worth much more than the waste-paper - it is written on? The Constitution, the set of Laws, or prescribed Habits - of Acting, that men will live under, is the one which images their - Convictions,—their Faith as to this wondrous Universe, and what - rights, duties, capabilities they have there; which stands sanctioned - therefore, by Necessity itself, if not by a seen Deity, then by an unseen - one. Other laws, whereof there are always enough <i>ready</i>-made, are - usurpations; which men do not obey, but rebel against, and abolish, by - their earliest convenience. - </p> - - <p> - The question of questions accordingly were, Who is it that especially for - rebellers and abolishers, can make a Constitution? He that can image - forth the general Belief when there is one; that can impart one when, as - here, there is none. A most rare man; ever as of old a god-missioned man! - Here, however, in defect of such transcendent supreme man, Time with its - infinite succession of merely superior men, each yielding his little - contribution, does much. Force likewise (for, as Antiquarian Philosophers - teach, the royal Sceptre was from the first something of a Hammer, to - <i>crack</i> such heads as could not be convinced) will all along find - somewhat to do. And thus in perpetual abolition and reparation, rending - and mending, with struggle and strife, with present evil and the hope and - effort towards future good, must the Constitution, as all human things - do, build itself forward; or unbuild itself, and sink, as it can and may. - O Sieyes, and ye other Committeemen, and Twelve Hundred miscellaneous - individuals from all parts of France! What is the Belief of France, and - yours, if ye knew it? Properly that there shall be no Belief; that all - formulas be swallowed. The Constitution which will suit that? Alas, too - clearly, a No-Constitution, an Anarchy;—which also, in due season, - shall be vouchsafed you. - </p> - - <p> - But, after all, what can an unfortunate National Assembly do? Consider - only this, that there are Twelve Hundred miscellaneous individuals; not a - unit of whom but has his own thinking-apparatus, his own - speaking-apparatus! In every unit of them is some belief and wish, - different for each, both that France should be regenerated, and also that - he individually should do it. Twelve Hundred separate Forces, yoked - miscellaneously to any object, miscellaneously to all sides of it; and - bid pull for life! - </p> - - <p> - Or is it the nature of National Assemblies generally to do, with endless - labour and clangour, Nothing? Are Representative Governments mostly at - bottom Tyrannies too! Shall we say, the <i>Tyrants</i>, the ambitious - contentious Persons, from all corners of the country do, in this manner, - get gathered into one place; and there, with motion and counter-motion, - with jargon and hubbub, <i>cancel</i> one another, like the fabulous - Kilkenny Cats; and produce, for net-result, <i>zero;</i>—the - country meanwhile <i>governing</i> or guiding <i>itself</i>, by such - wisdom, recognised or for most part unrecognised, as may exist in - individual heads here and there?—Nay, even that were a great - improvement: for, of old, with their Guelf Factions and Ghibelline - Factions, with their Red Roses and White Roses, they were wont to cancel - the whole country as well. Besides they do it now in a much narrower - cockpit; within the four walls of their Assembly House, and here and - there an outpost of Hustings and Barrel-heads; do it with tongues too, - not with swords:—all which improvements, in the art of producing - zero, are they not great? Nay, best of all, some happy Continents (as the - Western one, with its Savannahs, where whosoever has four willing limbs - finds food under his feet, and an infinite sky over his head) can do - without governing.—What Sphinx-questions; which the distracted - world, in these very generations, must answer or die! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"></a> - Chapter 1.6.II.<br/> - The Constituent Assembly. - </h3> - - <p> - One thing an elected Assembly of Twelve Hundred is fit for: Destroying. - Which indeed is but a more decided exercise of its natural talent for - Doing Nothing. Do nothing, only keep agitating, debating; and things will - destroy themselves. - </p> - - <p> - So and not otherwise proved it with an august National Assembly. It took - the name, Constituent, as if its mission and function had been to - construct or build; which also, with its whole soul, it endeavoured to - do: yet, in the fates, in the nature of things, there lay for it - precisely of all functions the most opposite to that. Singular, what - Gospels men will believe; even Gospels according to Jean Jacques! It was - the fixed Faith of these National Deputies, as of all thinking Frenchmen, - that the Constitution could be <i>made;</i> that they, there and then, - were called to make it. How, with the toughness of Old Hebrews or - Ishmaelite Moslem, did the otherwise light unbelieving People persist in - this their <i>Credo quia impossibile;</i> and front the armed world with - it; and grow fanatic, and even heroic, and do exploits by it! The - Constituent Assembly’s Constitution, and several others, will, being - printed and not manuscript, survive to future generations, as an - instructive well-nigh incredible document of the Time: the most - significant Picture of the then existing France; or at lowest, Picture of - these men’s Picture of it. - </p> - - <p> - But in truth and seriousness, what could the National Assembly have done? - The thing to <i>be</i> done was, actually as they said, to regenerate - France; to abolish the old France, and make a new one; quietly or - forcibly, by concession or by violence, this, by the Law of Nature, has - become inevitable. With what degree of violence, depends on the wisdom of - those that preside over it. With perfect wisdom on the part of the - National Assembly, it had all been otherwise; but whether, in any wise, - it could have been pacific, nay other than bloody and convulsive, may - still be a question. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Grant, meanwhile, that this Constituent Assembly does to the last - continue to be something. With a sigh, it sees itself incessantly forced - away from its infinite divine task, of perfecting “the Theory of - Irregular Verbs,”—to finite terrestrial tasks, which latter have - still a significance for us. It is the cynosure of revolutionary France, - this National Assembly. All work of Government has fallen into its hands, - or under its control; all men look to it for guidance. In the middle of - that huge Revolt of Twenty-five millions, it hovers always aloft as - <i>Carroccio</i> or Battle-Standard, impelling and impelled, in the most - confused way; if it cannot give much guidance, it will still seem to give - some. It emits pacificatory Proclamations, not a few; with more or with - less result. It authorises the enrolment of National Guards,—lest - Brigands come to devour us, and reap the unripe crops. It sends missions - to quell “effervescences;” to deliver men from the Lanterne. It can - listen to congratulatory Addresses, which arrive daily by the sackful; - mostly in King Cambyses’ vein: also to Petitions and complaints from all - mortals; so that every mortal’s complaint, if it cannot get redressed, - may at least hear itself complain. For the rest, an august National - Assembly can produce Parliamentary Eloquence; and appoint Committees. - Committees of the Constitution, of Reports, of Researches; and of much - else: which again yield mountains of Printed Paper; the theme of new - Parliamentary Eloquence, in bursts, or in plenteous smooth-flowing - floods. And so, from the waste vortex whereon all things go whirling and - grinding, Organic Laws, or the similitude of such, slowly emerge. - </p> - - <p> - With endless debating, we get the <i>Rights of Man</i> written down and - promulgated: true paper basis of all paper Constitutions. Neglecting, cry - the opponents, to declare the Duties of Man! Forgetting, answer we, to - ascertain the <i>Mights</i> of Man;—one of the fatalest - omissions!—Nay, sometimes, as on the Fourth of August, our National - Assembly, fired suddenly by an almost preternatural enthusiasm, will get - through whole masses of work in one night. A memorable night, this Fourth - of August: Dignitaries temporal and spiritual; Peers, Archbishops, - Parlement-Presidents, each outdoing the other in patriotic devotedness, - come successively to throw their (untenable) possessions on the “altar of - the fatherland.” With louder and louder vivats, for indeed it is “after - dinner” too,—they abolish Tithes, Seignorial Dues, Gabelle, - excessive Preservation of Game; nay Privilege, Immunity, Feudalism root - and branch; then appoint a <i>Te Deum</i> for it; and so, finally, - disperse about three in the morning, striking the stars with their - sublime heads. Such night, unforeseen but for ever memorable, was this of - the Fourth of August 1789. Miraculous, or semi-miraculous, some seem to - think it. A new Night of Pentecost, shall we say, shaped according to the - new Time, and new Church of Jean Jacques Rousseau? It had its causes; - also its effects. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In such manner labour the National Deputies; perfecting their Theory of - Irregular Verbs; governing France, and being governed by it; with toil - and noise;—cutting asunder ancient intolerable bonds; and, for new - ones, assiduously spinning ropes of sand. Were their labours a nothing or - a something, yet the eyes of all France being reverently fixed on them, - History can never very long leave them altogether out of sight. - </p> - - <p> - For the present, if we glance into that Assembly Hall of theirs, it will - be found, as is natural, “most irregular.” As many as “a hundred members - are on their feet at once;” no rule in making motions, or only - commencements of a rule; Spectators’ Gallery allowed to applaud, and even - to hiss;<a href="#linknote-200" name="linknoteref-200" - id="linknoteref-200">[200]</a> President, appointed once a fortnight, - raising many times no serene head above the waves. Nevertheless, as in - all human Assemblages, like does begin arranging itself to like; the - perennial rule, <i>Ubi homines sunt modi sunt</i>, proves valid. - Rudiments of Methods disclose themselves; rudiments of Parties. There is - a Right Side (<i>Côté Droit</i>), a Left Side (<i>Côté Gauche</i>); - sitting on M. le President’s right hand, or on his left: the <i>Côté - Droit</i> conservative; the <i>Côté Gauche</i> destructive. Intermediate - is Anglomaniac Constitutionalism, or Two-Chamber Royalism; with its - Mouniers, its Lallys,—fast verging towards nonentity. Preeminent, - on the Right Side, pleads and perorates Cazalès, the Dragoon-captain, - eloquent, mildly fervent; earning for himself the shadow of a name. There - also blusters Barrel-Mirabeau, the Younger Mirabeau, not without wit: - dusky d’Espréménil does nothing but sniff and ejaculate; <i>might</i>, it - is fondly thought, lay prostrate the Elder Mirabeau himself, would he but - try,<a href="#linknote-201" name="linknoteref-201" - id="linknoteref-201">[201]</a>—which he does not. Last and - greatest, see, for one moment, the Abbé Maury; with his jesuitic eyes, - his impassive brass face, “image of all the cardinal sins.” Indomitable, - unquenchable, he fights jesuitico-rhetorically; with toughest lungs and - heart; for Throne, especially for Altar and Tithes. So that a shrill - voice exclaims once, from the Gallery: ‘Messieurs of the Clergy, you - <i>have</i> to be shaved; if you wriggle too much, you will get cut.’<a - href="#linknote-202" name="linknoteref-202" - id="linknoteref-202">[202]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The Left side is also called the d’Orléans side; and sometimes - derisively, the Palais Royal. And yet, so confused, real-imaginary seems - everything, “it is doubtful,” as Mirabeau said, “whether d’Orléans - himself belong to that same d’Orléans Party.” What can be known and seen - is, that his moon-visage does beam forth from that point of space. There - likewise sits seagreen Robespierre; throwing in his light weight, with - decision, not yet with effect. A thin lean Puritan and Precisian; he - would make away with formulas; yet lives, moves, and has his being, - wholly in formulas, of another sort. “<i>Peuple</i>,” such according to - Robespierre ought to be the Royal method of promulgating laws, - “<i>Peuple</i>, this is the Law I have framed for thee; dost thou accept - it?”—answered from Right Side, from Centre and Left, by - inextinguishable laughter.<a href="#linknote-203" name="linknoteref-203" - id="linknoteref-203">[203]</a> Yet men of insight discern that the - Seagreen may by chance go far: ‘this man,’ observes Mirabeau, ‘will do - somewhat; he believes every word he says.’ - </p> - - <p> - Abbé Sieyes is busy with mere Constitutional work: wherein, unluckily, - fellow-workmen are less pliable than, with one who has completed the - Science of Polity, they ought to be. Courage, Sieyes nevertheless! Some - twenty months of heroic travail, of contradiction from the stupid, and - the Constitution shall be built; the top-stone of it brought out with - shouting,—say rather, the top-paper, for it is all Paper; and - <i>thou</i> hast done in it what the Earth or the Heaven could require, - thy utmost. Note likewise this Trio; memorable for several things; - memorable were it only that their history is written in an epigram: - “whatsoever these Three have in hand,” it is said, “Duport thinks it, - Barnave speaks it, Lameth does it.”<a href="#linknote-204" - name="linknoteref-204" id="linknoteref-204">[204]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But royal Mirabeau? Conspicuous among all parties, raised above and - beyond them all, this man rises more and more. As we often say, he has an - <i>eye</i>, he is a reality; while others are formulas and - <i>eye</i>-glasses. In the Transient he will detect the Perennial, find - some firm footing even among Paper-vortexes. His fame is gone forth to - all lands; it gladdened the heart of the crabbed old Friend of Men - himself before he died. The very Postilions of inns have heard of - Mirabeau: when an impatient Traveller complains that the team is - insufficient, his Postilion answers, ‘Yes, Monsieur, the wheelers are - weak; but my <i>mirabeau</i> (main horse), you see, is a right one, - <i>mais mon mirabeau est excellent</i>.’<a href="#linknote-205" - name="linknoteref-205" id="linknoteref-205">[205]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And now, Reader, thou shalt quit this noisy Discrepancy of a National - Assembly; not (if thou be of humane mind) without pity. Twelve Hundred - brother men are there, in the centre of Twenty-five Millions; fighting so - fiercely with Fate and with one another; struggling their lives out, as - most sons of Adam do, for that which profiteth not. Nay, on the whole, it - is admitted further to be very <i>dull</i>. ‘Dull as this day’s - Assembly,’ said some one. ‘Why date, <i>Pourquoi dater?</i>’ answered - Mirabeau. - </p> - - <p> - Consider that they are Twelve Hundred; that they not only speak, but - <i>read</i> their speeches; and even borrow and steal speeches to read! - With Twelve Hundred fluent speakers, and their Noah’s Deluge of - vociferous commonplace, unattainable silence may well seem the one - blessing of Life. But figure Twelve Hundred pamphleteers; droning forth - perpetual pamphlets: and no man to gag them! Neither, as in the American - Congress, do the arrangements seem perfect. A Senator has not his own - Desk and Newspaper here; of Tobacco (much less of Pipes) there is not the - slightest provision. Conversation itself must be transacted in a low - tone, with continual interruption: only “pencil Notes” circulate freely; - “in incredible numbers to the foot of the very tribune.”<a - href="#linknote-206" name="linknoteref-206" - id="linknoteref-206">[206]</a>—Such work is it, regenerating a - Nation; perfecting one’s Theory of Irregular Verbs! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"></a> - Chapter 1.6.III.<br/> - The General Overturn. - </h3> - - <p> - Of the King’s Court, for the present, there is almost nothing whatever to - be said. Silent, deserted are these halls; Royalty languishes forsaken of - its war-god and all its hopes, till once the Œil-de-Bœuf rally again. The - sceptre is departed from King Louis; is gone over to the <i>Salles des - Menus</i>, to the Paris Townhall, or one knows not whither. In the July - days, while all ears were yet deafened by the crash of the Bastille, and - Ministers and Princes were scattered to the four winds, it seemed as if - the very Valets had grown heavy of hearing. Besenval, also in flight - towards Infinite Space, but hovering a little at Versailles, was - addressing his Majesty personally for an Order about post-horses; when, - lo, “the Valet in waiting places himself familiarly between his Majesty - and me,” stretching out his rascal neck to learn what it was! His - Majesty, in sudden choler, whirled round; made a clutch at the tongs: “I - gently prevented him; he grasped my hand in thankfulness; and I noticed - tears in his eyes.”<a href="#linknote-207" name="linknoteref-207" - id="linknoteref-207">[207]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Poor King; for French Kings also are men! Louis Fourteenth himself once - clutched the tongs, and even smote with them; but then it was at Louvois, - and Dame Maintenon ran up.—The Queen sits weeping in her inner - apartments, surrounded by weak women: she is “at the height of - unpopularity;” universally regarded as the evil genius of France. Her - friends and familiar counsellors have all fled; and fled, surely, on the - foolishest errand. The Château Polignac still frowns aloft, on its “bold - and enormous” cubical rock, amid the blooming champaigns, amid the blue - girdling mountains of Auvergne:<a href="#linknote-208" - name="linknoteref-208" id="linknoteref-208">[208]</a> but no Duke and - Duchess Polignac look forth from it; they have fled, they have “met - Necker at Bale;” they shall not return. That France should see her Nobles - resist the Irresistible, Inevitable, with the face of angry men, was - unhappy, not unexpected: but with the face and sense of pettish children? - This was her peculiarity. They understood nothing; would understand - nothing. Does not, at this hour, a new Polignac, first-born of these Two, - sit reflective in the Castle of Ham;<a href="#linknote-209" - name="linknoteref-209" id="linknoteref-209">[209]</a> in an astonishment - he will never recover from; the most confused of existing mortals? - </p> - - <p> - King Louis has his new Ministry: mere Popularities; Old-President - Pompignan; Necker, coming back in triumph; and other such.<a - href="#linknote-210" name="linknoteref-210" - id="linknoteref-210">[210]</a> But what will it avail him? As was said, - the sceptre, all but the wooden gilt sceptre, has departed elsewhither. - Volition, determination is not in this man: only innocence, indolence; - dependence on all persons but himself, on all circumstances but the - circumstances he were lord of. So troublous internally is our Versailles - and its work. Beautiful, if seen from afar, resplendent like a Sun; seen - near at hand, a mere Sun’s-Atmosphere, hiding darkness, confused ferment - of ruin! - </p> - - <p> - But over France, there goes on the indisputablest “destruction of - formulas;” transaction of realities that follow therefrom. So many - millions of persons, all gyved, and nigh strangled, with formulas; whose - Life nevertheless, at least the digestion and hunger of it, was real - enough! Heaven has at length sent an abundant harvest; but what profits - it the poor man, when Earth with her formulas interposes? Industry, in - these times of Insurrection, must needs lie dormant; capital, as usual, - not circulating, but stagnating timorously in nooks. The poor man is - short of work, is therefore short of money; nay even had he money, bread - is not to be bought for it. Were it plotting of Aristocrats, plotting of - d’Orléans; were it Brigands, preternatural terror, and the clang of - Phoebus Apollo’s silver bow,—enough, the markets are scarce of - grain, plentiful only in tumult. Farmers seem lazy to thresh;—being - either “bribed;” or needing no bribe, with prices ever rising, with - perhaps rent itself no longer so pressing. Neither, what is singular, do - municipal enactments, “That along with so many measures of wheat you - shall sell so many of rye,” and other the like, much mend the matter. - Dragoons with drawn swords stand ranked among the corn-sacks, often more - dragoons than sacks.<a href="#linknote-211" name="linknoteref-211" - id="linknoteref-211">[211]</a> Meal-mobs abound; growing into mobs of a - still darker quality. - </p> - - <p> - Starvation has been known among the French Commonalty before this; known - and familiar. Did we not see them, in the year 1775, presenting, in - sallow faces, in wretchedness and raggedness, their Petition of - Grievances; and, for answer, getting a brand-new Gallows forty feet high? - Hunger and Darkness, through long years! For look back on that earlier - Paris Riot, when a Great Personage, worn out by debauchery, was believed - to be in want of Blood-baths; and Mothers, in worn raiment, yet with - living hearts under it, “filled the public places” with their wild - Rachel-cries,—stilled also by the Gallows. Twenty years ago, the - Friend of Men (preaching to the deaf) described the Limousin Peasants as - wearing a pain-stricken (<i>souffre-douleur</i>) look, a look <i>past</i> - complaint, “as if the oppression of the great were like the hail and the - thunder, a thing irremediable, the ordinance of Nature.”<a - href="#linknote-212" name="linknoteref-212" - id="linknoteref-212">[212]</a> And now, if in some great hour, the shock - of a falling Bastille should awaken you; and it were found to be the - ordinance of Art merely; and remediable, reversible! - </p> - - <p> - Or has the Reader forgotten that “flood of savages,” which, in sight of - the same Friend of Men, descended from the mountains at Mont d’Or? - Lank-haired haggard faces; shapes rawboned, in high sabots; in woollen - jupes, with leather girdles studded with copper-nails! They rocked from - foot to foot, and beat time with their elbows too, as the quarrel and - battle which was not long in beginning went on; shouting fiercely; the - lank faces distorted into the similitude of a cruel laugh. For they were - darkened and hardened: long had they been the prey of excise-men and - tax-men; of “clerks with the cold spurt of their pen.” It was the fixed - prophecy of our old Marquis, which no man would listen to, that “such - Government by Blind-man’s-buff, stumbling along too far, would end by the - General Overturn, the <i>Culbute Générale!</i>” - </p> - - <p> - No man would listen, each went his thoughtless way;—and Time and - Destiny also travelled on. The Government by Blind-man’s-buff, stumbling - along, has reached the precipice inevitable for it. Dull Drudgery, driven - on, by clerks with the cold dastard spurt of their pen, has been - driven—into a Communion of Drudges! For now, moreover, there have - come the strangest confused tidings; by Paris Journals with their paper - wings; or still more portentous, where no Journals are,<a - href="#linknote-213" name="linknoteref-213" - id="linknoteref-213">[213]</a> by rumour and conjecture: Oppression - <i>not</i> inevitable; a Bastille prostrate, and the Constitution fast - getting ready! Which Constitution, if it be something and not nothing, - what can it be but bread to eat? - </p> - - <p> - The Traveller, “walking up hill bridle in hand,” overtakes “a poor - woman;” the image, as such commonly are, of drudgery and scarcity; - “looking sixty years of age, though she is not yet twenty-eight.” They - have seven children, her poor drudge and she: a farm, with one cow, which - helps to make the children soup; also one little horse, or garron. They - have rents and quit-rents, Hens to pay to this Seigneur, Oat-sacks to - that; King’s taxes, Statute-labour, Church-taxes, taxes enough;—and - think the times inexpressible. She has heard that some<i>where</i>, in - some manner, some<i>thing</i> is to be done for the poor: ‘God send it - soon; for the dues and taxes crush us down (<i>nous écrasent</i>)!’<a - href="#linknote-214" name="linknoteref-214" - id="linknoteref-214">[214]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Fair prophecies are spoken, but they are not fulfilled. There have been - Notables, Assemblages, turnings out and comings in. Intriguing and - manœuvring; Parliamentary eloquence and arguing, Greek meeting Greek in - high places, has long gone on; yet still bread comes not. The harvest is - reaped and garnered; yet still we have no bread. Urged by despair and by - hope, what can Drudgery do, but rise, as predicted, and produce the - General Overturn? - </p> - - <p> - Fancy, then, some Five full-grown Millions of such gaunt figures, with - their haggard faces (<i>figures hâves</i>); in woollen jupes, with - copper-studded leather girths, and high sabots,—starting up to ask, - as in forest-roarings, their washed Upper-Classes, after long unreviewed - centuries, virtually this question: How have ye treated us; how have ye - taught us, fed us, and led us, while we toiled for you? The answer can be - read in flames, over the nightly summer sky. <i>This</i> is the feeding - and leading we have had of you: EMPTINESS,—of pocket, of stomach, - of head, and of heart. Behold there is <i>nothing in us;</i> nothing but - what Nature gives her wild children of the desert: Ferocity and Appetite; - Strength grounded on Hunger. Did ye mark among your Rights of Man, that - man was not to die of starvation, while there was bread reaped by him? It - is among the Mights of Man. - </p> - - <p> - Seventy-two Châteaus have flamed aloft in the Maconnais and Beaujolais - alone: this seems the centre of the conflagration; but it has spread over - Dauphiné, Alsace, the Lyonnais; the whole South-East is in a blaze. All - over the North, from Rouen to Metz, disorder is abroad: smugglers of salt - go openly in armed bands: the barriers of towns are burnt; - toll-gatherers, tax-gatherers, official persons put to flight. “It was - thought,” says Young, “the people, from hunger, would revolt;” and we see - they have done it. Desperate Lackalls, long prowling aimless, now finding - hope in desperation itself, everywhere form a nucleus. They ring the - Church bell by way of tocsin: and the Parish turns out to the work.<a - href="#linknote-215" name="linknoteref-215" - id="linknoteref-215">[215]</a> Ferocity, atrocity; hunger and revenge: - such work as we can imagine! - </p> - - <p> - Ill stands it now with the Seigneur, who, for example, “has walled up the - only Fountain of the Township;” who has ridden high on his - <i>chartier</i> and parchments; who has preserved Game not wisely but too - well. Churches also, and Canonries, are sacked, without mercy; which have - shorn the flock too close, forgetting to feed it. Wo to the land over - which Sansculottism, in its day of vengeance, tramps - roughshod,—shod in sabots! Highbred Seigneurs, with their delicate - women and little ones, had to “fly half-naked,” under cloud of night; - glad to escape the flames, and even worse. You meet them at the - <i>tables-d’hôte</i> of inns; making wise reflections or foolish that - “rank is destroyed;” uncertain whither they shall now wend.<a - href="#linknote-216" name="linknoteref-216" - id="linknoteref-216">[216]</a> The <i>métayer</i> will find it convenient - to be slack in paying rent. As for the Tax-gatherer, he, long hunting as - a biped of prey, may now get hunted as one; his Majesty’s Exchequer will - not “fill up the Deficit,” this season: it is the notion of many that a - Patriot Majesty, being the Restorer of French Liberty, has abolished most - taxes, though, for their private ends, some men make a secret of it. - </p> - - <p> - Where this will end? In the Abyss, one may prophecy; whither all - Delusions are, at all moments, travelling; where this Delusion has now - arrived. For if there be a Faith, from of old, it is this, as we often - repeat, that no Lie can live for ever. The very Truth has to change its - vesture, from time to time; and be born again. But all Lies have sentence - of death written down against them, and Heaven’s Chancery itself; and, - slowly or fast, advance incessantly towards their hour. “The sign of a - Grand Seigneur being landlord,” says the vehement plain-spoken Arthur - Young, “are wastes, <i>landes</i>, deserts, ling: go to his residence, - you will find it in the middle of a forest, peopled with deer, wild boars - and wolves. The fields are scenes of pitiable management, as the houses - are of misery. To see so many millions of hands, that would be - industrious, all idle and starving: Oh, if I were legislator of France, - for one day, I would make these great lords skip again!”<a - href="#linknote-217" name="linknoteref-217" - id="linknoteref-217">[217]</a> O Arthur, thou now actually beholdest them - <i>skip;</i>—wilt thou grow to grumble at that too? - </p> - - <p> - For long years and generations it lasted, but the time came. - Featherbrain, whom no reasoning and no pleading could touch, the glare of - the firebrand had to illuminate: there remained but that method. Consider - it, look at it! The widow is gathering nettles for her children’s dinner; - a perfumed Seigneur, delicately lounging in the Œil-de-Bœuf, has an - alchemy whereby he will extract from her the third nettle, and name it - Rent and Law: such an arrangement must end. Ought it? But, O most fearful - is <i>such</i> an ending! Let those, to whom God, in His great mercy, has - granted time and space, prepare another and milder one. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To some it is a matter of wonder that the Seigneurs did not do something - to help themselves; say, combine, and arm: for there were a “hundred and - fifty thousand of them,” all violent enough. Unhappily, a hundred and - fifty thousand, scattered over wide Provinces, divided by mutual - ill-will, cannot combine. The highest Seigneurs, as we have seen, had - already emigrated,—with a view of putting France to the blush. - Neither are arms now the peculiar property of Seigneurs; but of every - mortal who has ten shillings, wherewith to buy a secondhand firelock. - </p> - - <p> - Besides, those starving Peasants, after all, have not four feet and - claws, that you could keep them down permanently in that manner. They are - not even of black colour; they are mere Unwashed Seigneurs; and a - Seigneur too has human bowels!—The Seigneurs did what they could; - enrolled in National Guards; fled, with shrieks, complaining to Heaven - and Earth. One Seigneur, famed Memmay of Quincey, near Vesoul, invited - all the rustics of his neighbourhood to a banquet; blew up his Château - and them with gunpowder; and instantaneously vanished, no man yet knows - whither.<a href="#linknote-218" name="linknoteref-218" - id="linknoteref-218">[218]</a> Some half dozen years after, he came back; - and demonstrated that it was by accident. - </p> - - <p> - Nor are the authorities idle: though unluckily, all Authorities, - Municipalities and such like, are in the uncertain transitionary state; - getting regenerated from old Monarchic to new Democratic; no Official yet - knows clearly what he is. Nevertheless, Mayors old or new do gather - <i>Marechaussées</i>, National Guards, Troops of the line; justice, of - the most summary sort, is not wanting. The Electoral Committee of Macon, - though but a Committee, goes the length of hanging, for its own behoof, - as many as twenty. The Prévôt of Dauphiné traverses the country “with a - movable column,” with tipstaves, gallows-ropes; for gallows any tree will - serve, and suspend its culprit, or “thirteen” culprits. - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy country! How is the fair gold-and-green of the ripe bright Year - defaced with horrid blackness: black ashes of Châteaus, black bodies of - gibetted Men! Industry has ceased in it; not sounds of the hammer and - saw, but of the tocsin and alarm-drum. The sceptre has departed, - <i>whither</i> one knows not;—breaking itself in pieces: here - impotent, there tyrannous. National Guards are unskilful, and of doubtful - purpose; Soldiers are inclined to mutiny: there is danger that they two - may quarrel, danger that they may <i>agree</i>. Strasburg has seen riots: - a Townhall torn to shreds, its archives scattered white on the winds; - drunk soldiers embracing drunk citizens for three days, and Mayor - Dietrich and Marshal Rochambeau reduced nigh to desperation.<a - href="#linknote-219" name="linknoteref-219" - id="linknoteref-219">[219]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Through the middle of all which phenomena, is seen, on his triumphant - transit, “escorted,” through Béfort for instance, “by fifty National - Horsemen and all the military music of the place,”—M. Necker, - returning from Bale! Glorious as the meridian; though poor Necker himself - partly guesses whither it is leading.<a href="#linknote-220" - name="linknoteref-220" id="linknoteref-220">[220]</a> One highest - culminating day, at the Paris Townhall; with immortal vivats, with wife - and daughter kneeling publicly to kiss his hand; with Besenval’s pardon - granted,—but indeed revoked before sunset: one highest day, but - then lower days, and ever lower, down even to lowest! Such magic is in a - name; and in the want of a name. Like some enchanted Mambrino’s Helmet, - essential to victory, comes this “Saviour of France;” beshouted, - becymballed by the world:—alas, so soon, to be <i>dis</i>enchanted, - to be pitched shamefully over the lists as a Barber’s Bason! Gibbon - “could wish to shew him” (in this ejected, Barber’s-Bason state) to any - man of solidity, who were minded to have the soul burnt out of him, and - become a <i>caput mortuum</i>, by Ambition, unsuccessful or successful.<a - href="#linknote-221" name="linknoteref-221" - id="linknoteref-221">[221]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Another small phasis we add, and no more: how, in the Autumn months, our - sharp-tempered Arthur has been “pestered for some days past,” by shot, - lead-drops and slugs, “rattling five or six times into my chaise and - about my ears;” all the mob of the country gone out to kill game!<a - href="#linknote-222" name="linknoteref-222" - id="linknoteref-222">[222]</a> It is even so. On the Cliffs of Dover, - over all the Marches of France, there appear, this autumn, two Signs on - the Earth: emigrant flights of French Seigneurs; emigrant winged flights - of French Game! Finished, one may say, or as good as finished, is the - Preservation of Game on this Earth; completed for endless Time. What part - it had to play in the History of Civilisation is played <i>plaudite; - exeat!</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In this manner does Sansculottism blaze up, illustrating many - things;—producing, among the rest, as we saw, on the Fourth of - August, that semi-miraculous Night of Pentecost in the National Assembly; - semi miraculous, which had its causes, and its effects. Feudalism is - struck dead; not on parchment only, and by ink; but in very fact, by - fire; say, by self-combustion. This conflagration of the South-East will - abate; will be got scattered, to the West, or elsewhither: extinguish it - will not, till the <i>fuel</i> be all done. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"></a> - Chapter 1.6.IV.<br/> - In Queue. - </h3> - - <p> - If we look now at Paris, one thing is too evident: that the Baker’s shops - have got their <i>Queues</i>, or Tails; their long strings of purchasers, - arranged <i>in tail</i>, so that the first come be the first - served,—were the shop once open! This waiting in tail, not seen - since the early days of July, again makes its appearance in August. In - time, we shall see it perfected by practice to the rank almost of an art; - and the art, or quasi-art, of standing in tail become one of the - characteristics of the Parisian People, distinguishing them from all - other Peoples whatsoever. - </p> - - <p> - But consider, while work itself is so scarce, how a man must not only - realise money; but stand waiting (if his wife is too weak to wait and - struggle) for half days in the Tail, till he get it changed for dear bad - bread! Controversies, to the length, sometimes of blood and battery, must - arise in these exasperated Queues. Or if no controversy, then it is but - one accordant <i>Pange Lingua</i> of complaint against the Powers that - be. France has begun her long Curriculum of Hungering, instructive and - productive beyond Academic Curriculums; which extends over some seven - most strenuous years. As Jean Paul says, of his own Life, “to a great - height shall the business of Hungering go.” - </p> - - <p> - Or consider, in strange contrast, the jubilee Ceremonies; for, in - general, the aspect of Paris presents these two features: jubilee - ceremonials and scarcity of victual. Processions enough walk in jubilee; - of Young Women, decked and dizened, their ribands all tricolor; moving - with song and tabor, to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve, to thank her that - the Bastille is down. The Strong Men of the Market, and the Strong Women, - fail not with their bouquets and speeches. Abbé Fauchet, famed in such - work (for Abbé Lefevre could only distribute powder) blesses tricolor - cloth for the National Guard; and makes it a National Tricolor Flag; - victorious, or to be victorious, in the cause of civil and religious - liberty all over the world. Fauchet, we say, is the man for - <i>Te-Deums</i>, and public Consecrations;—to which, as in this - instance of the Flag, our National Guard will “reply with volleys of - musketry,” Church and Cathedral though it be;<a href="#linknote-223" - name="linknoteref-223" id="linknoteref-223">[223]</a> filling Notre Dame - with such noisiest fuliginous Amen, significant of several things. - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, we will say our new Mayor Bailly; our new Commander - Lafayette, named also “Scipio-Americanus,” have bought their preferment - dear. Bailly rides in gilt state-coach, with beefeaters and sumptuosity; - Camille Desmoulins, and others, sniffing at him for it: Scipio bestrides - the “white charger,” and waves with civic plumes in sight of all France. - Neither of them, however, does it for nothing; but, in truth, at an - exorbitant rate. At this rate, namely: of feeding Paris, and keeping it - from fighting. Out of the City-funds, some seventeen thousand of the - utterly destitute are employed digging on Montmartre, at tenpence a day, - which buys them, at market price, almost two pounds of bad - bread;—they look very yellow, when Lafayette goes to harangue them. - The Townhall is in travail, night and day; it must bring forth Bread, a - Municipal Constitution, regulations of all kinds, curbs on the - Sansculottic Press; above all, Bread, Bread. - </p> - - <p> - Purveyors prowl the country far and wide, with the appetite of lions; - detect hidden grain, purchase open grain; by gentle means or forcible, - must and will find grain. A most thankless task; and so difficult, so - dangerous,—even if a man did gain some trifle by it! On the 19th - August, there is food for one day.<a href="#linknote-224" - name="linknoteref-224" id="linknoteref-224">[224]</a> Complaints there - are that the food is spoiled, and produces an effect on the intestines: - not corn but plaster-of-Paris! Which effect on the intestines, as well as - that “smarting in the throat and palate,” a Townhall Proclamation warns - you to disregard, or even to consider as drastic-beneficial. The Mayor of - Saint-Denis, so black was his bread, has, by a dyspeptic populace, been - hanged on the Lanterne there. National Guards protect the Paris - Corn-Market: first ten suffice; then six hundred.<a href="#linknote-225" - name="linknoteref-225" id="linknoteref-225">[225]</a> Busy are ye, - Bailly, Brissot de Warville, Condorcet, and ye others! - </p> - - <p> - For, as just hinted, there is a Municipal Constitution to be made too. - The old Bastille Electors, after some ten days of psalmodying over their - glorious victory, began to hear it asked, in a splenetic tone, Who put - you there? They accordingly had to give place, not without moanings, and - audible growlings on both sides, to a new larger Body, specially elected - for that post. Which new Body, augmented, altered, then fixed finally at - the number of Three Hundred, with the title of Town Representatives - (<i>Représentans de la Commune</i>), now sits there; rightly portioned - into Committees; assiduous making a Constitution; at all moments when not - seeking flour. - </p> - - <p> - And such a Constitution; little short of miraculous: one that shall - “consolidate the Revolution”! The Revolution is finished, then? Mayor - Bailly and all respectable friends of Freedom would fain think so. Your - Revolution, like jelly sufficiently <i>boiled</i>, needs only to be - poured into <i>shapes</i>, of Constitution, and “consolidated” therein? - Could it, indeed, contrive to <i>cool;</i> which last, however, is - precisely the doubtful thing, or even the not doubtful! - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy friends of Freedom; consolidating a Revolution! They must sit at - work there, their pavilion spread on very Chaos; between two hostile - worlds, the Upper Court-world, the Nether Sansculottic one; and, beaten - on by both, toil painfully, perilously,—doing, in sad literal - earnest, “the impossible.” - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"></a> - Chapter 1.6.V.<br/> - The Fourth Estate. - </h3> - - <p> - Pamphleteering opens its abysmal throat wider and wider: never to close - more. Our Philosophes, indeed, rather withdraw; after the manner of - Marmontel, “retiring in disgust the first day.” Abbé Raynal, grown gray - and quiet in his Marseilles domicile, is little content with this work; - the last literary act of the man will again be an act of rebellion: an - indignant <i>Letter to the Constituent Assembly;</i> answered by “the - order of the day.” Thus also Philosophe Morellet puckers discontented - brows; being indeed threatened in his benefices by that Fourth of August: - it is clearly going too far. How astonishing that those “haggard figures - in woollen jupes” would not rest as satisfied with Speculation, and - victorious Analysis, as we! - </p> - - <p> - Alas, yes: Speculation, Philosophism, once the ornament and wealth of the - saloon, will now coin itself into mere Practical Propositions, and - circulate on street and highway, universally; with results! A Fourth - Estate, of Able Editors, springs up; increases and multiplies; - irrepressible, incalculable. New Printers, new Journals, and ever new (so - prurient is the world), let our Three Hundred curb and consolidate as - they can! Loustalot, under the wing of Prudhomme dull-blustering Printer, - edits weekly his <i>Révolutions de Paris;</i> in an acrid, emphatic - manner. Acrid, corrosive, as the spirit of sloes and copperas, is Marat, - <i>Friend of the People;</i> struck already with the fact that the - National Assembly, so full of Aristocrats, “can do nothing,” except - dissolve itself, and make way for a better; that the Townhall - Representatives are little other than babblers and imbeciles, if not even - knaves. Poor is this man; squalid, and dwells in garrets; a man unlovely - to the sense, outward and inward; a man forbid;—and is becoming - fanatical, possessed with fixed-idea. Cruel <i>lusus</i> of Nature! Did - Nature, O poor Marat, as in cruel sport, knead thee out of her - <i>leavings</i>, and miscellaneous waste clay; and fling thee forth - stepdamelike, a Distraction into this distracted Eighteenth Century? Work - is appointed thee there; which thou shalt do. The Three Hundred have - summoned and will again summon Marat: but always he croaks forth answer - sufficient; always he will defy them, or elude them; and endure no gag. - </p> - - <p> - Carra, “Ex-secretary of a decapitated Hospodar,” and then of a - Necklace-Cardinal; likewise pamphleteer, Adventurer in many scenes and - lands,—draws nigh to Mercier, of the <i>Tableau de Paris;</i> and, - with foam on his lips, proposes an <i>Annales Patriotiques</i>. The - <i>Moniteur</i> goes its prosperous way; Barrère “weeps,” on Paper as yet - loyal; Rivarol, Royou are not idle. Deep calls to deep: your <i>Domine - Salvum Fac Regem</i> shall awaken <i>Pange Lingua;</i> with an - <i>Ami-du-Peuple</i> there is a King’s-Friend Newspaper, - <i>Ami-du-Roi</i>. Camille Desmoulins has appointed himself - <i>Procureur-Général de la Lanterne</i>, Attorney-General of the - Lamp-iron; and pleads, <i>not</i> with atrocity, under an atrocious - title; editing weekly his brilliant <i>Revolutions of Paris and - Brabant</i>. Brilliant, we say: for if, in that thick murk of Journalism, - with its dull blustering, with its fixed or loose fury, any ray of genius - greet thee, be sure it is Camille’s. The thing that Camille teaches he, - with his light finger, adorns: brightness plays, gentle, unexpected, amid - horrible confusions; often is the word of Camille worth reading, when no - other’s is. Questionable Camille, how thou glitterest with a fallen, - rebellious, yet still semi-celestial light; as is the star-light on the - brow of Lucifer! Son of the Morning, into what times and what lands, art - thou fallen! - </p> - - <p> - But in all things is good;—though not good for “consolidating - Revolutions.” Thousand wagon-loads of this Pamphleteering and Newspaper - matter, lie rotting slowly in the Public Libraries of our Europe. - Snatched from the great gulf, like oysters by bibliomaniac pearl-divers, - there must they first <i>rot</i>, then what was pearl, in Camille or - others, may be seen as such, and continue as such. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nor has public speaking declined, though Lafayette and his Patrols look - sour on it. Loud always is the Palais Royal, loudest the Café de Foy; - such a miscellany of Citizens and Citizenesses circulating there. “Now - and then,” according to Camille, “some Citizens employ the liberty of the - <i>press</i> for a private purpose; so that this or the other Patriot - finds himself short of his watch or pocket-handkerchief!” But, for the - rest, in Camille’s opinion, nothing can be a livelier image of the Roman - Forum. “A Patriot proposes his motion; if it finds any supporters, they - make him mount on a chair, and speak. If he is applauded, he prospers and - redacts; if he is hissed, he goes his ways.” Thus they, circulating and - perorating. Tall shaggy Marquis Saint-Huruge, a man that has had losses, - and has deserved them, is seen eminent, and also heard. “Bellowing” is - the character of his voice, like that of a Bull of Bashan; voice which - drowns all voices, which causes frequently the hearts of men to leap. - Cracked or half-cracked is this tall Marquis’s head; uncracked are his - lungs; the cracked and the uncracked shall alike avail him. - </p> - - <p> - Consider farther that each of the Forty-eight Districts has its own - Committee; speaking and motioning continually; aiding in the search for - grain, in the search for a Constitution; checking and spurring the poor - Three Hundred of the Townhall. That Danton, with a “voice reverberating - from the domes,” is President of the Cordeliers District; which has - already become a Goshen of Patriotism. That apart from the “seventeen - thousand utterly necessitous, digging on Montmartre,” most of whom, - indeed, have got passes, and been dismissed into Space “with four - shillings,”—there is a <i>strike</i>, or union, of Domestics out of - place; who assemble for public speaking: next, a strike of Tailors, for - even they will strike and speak; further, a strike of Journeymen - Cordwainers; a strike of Apothecaries: so dear is bread.<a - href="#linknote-226" name="linknoteref-226" - id="linknoteref-226">[226]</a> All these, having struck, must speak; - generally under the open canopy; and pass resolutions;—Lafayette - and his Patrols watching them suspiciously from the distance. - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy mortals: such tugging and lugging, and throttling of one another, - to divide, in some not intolerable way, the joint Felicity of man in this - Earth; when the whole lot to be divided is such a “feast of - <i>shells!</i>”—Diligent are the Three Hundred; none equals Scipio - Americanus in dealing with mobs. But surely all these things bode ill for - the consolidating of a Revolution. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"></a> - BOOK VII.<br/> - THE INSURRECTION OF WOMEN - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"></a> - Chapter 1.7.I.<br/> - Patrollotism. - </h3> - - <p> - No, Friends, this Revolution is not of the consolidating kind. Do not - fires, fevers, sown seeds, chemical mixtures, men, events; all - embodiments of Force that work in this miraculous Complex of Forces, - named Universe,—go on <i>growing</i>, through their natural phases - and developments, each according to its kind; reach their height, reach - their visible decline; finally sink under, vanishing, and what we call - <i>die?</i> They all grow; there is nothing but what grows, and shoots - forth into its special expansion,—once give it leave to spring. - Observe too that each grows with a rapidity proportioned, in general, to - the madness and unhealthiness there is in it: slow regular growth, though - this also ends in death, is what we name health and sanity. - </p> - - <p> - A Sansculottism, which has prostrated Bastilles, which has got pike and - musket, and now goes burning Châteaus, passing resolutions and haranguing - under roof and sky, may be said to have sprung; and, by law of Nature, - must grow. To judge by the madness and diseasedness both of itself, and - of the soil and element it is in, one might expect the rapidity and - monstrosity would be extreme. - </p> - - <p> - Many things too, especially all diseased things, grow by shoots and fits. - The first grand fit and shooting forth of Sansculottism with that of - Paris conquering its King; for Bailly’s figure of rhetoric was all-too - sad a reality. The King is conquered; going at large on his parole; on - condition, say, of absolutely good behaviour,—which, in these - circumstances, will unhappily mean no behaviour whatever. A quite - untenable position, that of Majesty put on its good behaviour! Alas, is - it not natural that whatever lives try to keep itself living? Whereupon - his Majesty’s behaviour will soon become exceptionable; and so the Second - grand Fit of Sansculottism, that of putting him in durance, cannot be - distant. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Necker, in the National Assembly, is making moan, as usual about his - Deficit: Barriers and Customhouses burnt; the Tax-gatherer hunted, not - hunting; his Majesty’s Exchequer all but empty. The remedy is a Loan of - thirty millions; then, on still more enticing terms, a Loan of eighty - millions: neither of which Loans, unhappily, will the Stockjobbers - venture to lend. The Stockjobber has no country, except his own black - pool of <i>Agio</i>. - </p> - - <p> - And yet, in those days, for men that have a country, what a glow of - patriotism burns in many a heart; penetrating inwards to the very purse! - So early as the 7th of August, a <i>Don Patriotique</i>, “a Patriotic - Gift of jewels to a considerable extent,” has been solemnly made by - certain Parisian women; and solemnly accepted, with honourable mention. - Whom forthwith all the world takes to imitating and emulating. Patriotic - Gifts, always with some heroic eloquence, which the President must answer - and the Assembly listen to, flow in from far and near: in such number - that the honourable mention can only be performed in “lists published at - stated epochs.” Each gives what he can: the very cordwainers have behaved - munificently; one landed proprietor gives a forest; fashionable society - gives its shoebuckles, takes cheerfully to shoe-ties. Unfortunate females - give what they “have amassed in loving.”<a href="#linknote-227" - name="linknoteref-227" id="linknoteref-227">[227]</a> The smell of all - cash, as Vespasian thought, is good. - </p> - - <p> - Beautiful, and yet inadequate! The Clergy must be “invited” to melt their - superfluous Church-plate,—in the Royal Mint. Nay finally, a - Patriotic Contribution, of the forcible sort, must be determined on, - though unwillingly: let the fourth part of your declared yearly revenue, - for this once only, be paid down; so shall a National Assembly make the - Constitution, undistracted at least by insolvency. Their own wages, as - settled on the 17th of August, are but Eighteen Francs a day, each man; - but the Public Service must have sinews, must have money. To - <i>appease</i> the Deficit; not to “<i>combler</i>, or choke the - Deficit,” if you or mortal could! For withal, as Mirabeau was heard - saying, ‘it is the Deficit that saves us.’ - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Towards the end of August, our National Assembly in its constitutional - labours, has got so far as the question of <i>Veto:</i> shall Majesty - have a Veto on the National Enactments; or not have a Veto? What speeches - were spoken, within doors and without; clear, and also passionate logic; - imprecations, comminations; gone happily, for most part, to Limbo! - Through the cracked brain, and uncracked lungs of Saint-Huruge, the - Palais Royal rebellows with Veto. Journalism is busy, France rings with - Veto. “I shall never forget,” says Dumont, “my going to Paris, one of - these days, with Mirabeau; and the crowd of people we found waiting for - his carriage, about Le Jay the Bookseller’s shop. They flung themselves - before him; conjuring him with tears in their eyes not to suffer the - <i>Veto Absolu</i>. They were in a frenzy: ‘Monsieur le Comte, you are - the people’s father; you must save us; you must defend us against those - villains who are bringing back Despotism. If the King get this Veto, what - is the use of National Assembly? We are slaves, all is done.’”<a - href="#linknote-228" name="linknoteref-228" - id="linknoteref-228">[228]</a> Friends, <i>if</i> the sky fall, there - will be catching of larks! Mirabeau, adds Dumont, was eminent on such - occasions: he answered vaguely, with a Patrician imperturbability, and - bound himself to nothing. - </p> - - <p> - Deputations go to the Hôtel-de-Ville; anonymous Letters to Aristocrats in - the National Assembly, threatening that fifteen thousand, or sometimes - that sixty thousand, “will march to illuminate you.” The Paris Districts - are astir; Petitions signing: Saint-Huruge sets forth from the Palais - Royal, with an escort of fifteen hundred individuals, to petition in - person. Resolute, or seemingly so, is the tall shaggy Marquis, is the - Café de Foy: but resolute also is Commandant-General Lafayette. The - streets are all beset by Patrols: Saint-Huruge is stopped at the - <i>Barrière des Bon Hommes;</i> he may bellow like the bulls of Bashan; - but absolutely must return. The brethren of the Palais Royal “circulate - all night,” and make motions, under the open canopy; all Coffee-houses - being shut. Nevertheless Lafayette and the Townhall do prevail: - Saint-Huruge is thrown into prison; <i>Veto Absolu</i> adjusts itself - into <i>Suspensive Veto</i>, prohibition not forever, but for a term of - time; and this doom’s-clamour will grow silent, as the others have done. - </p> - - <p> - So far has Consolidation prospered, though with difficulty; repressing - the Nether Sansculottic world; and the Constitution shall be made. With - difficulty: amid jubilee and scarcity; Patriotic Gifts, Bakers’-queues; - Abbé-Fauchet Harangues, with their <i>Amen</i> of platoon-musketry! - Scipio Americanus has deserved thanks from the National Assembly and - France. They offer him stipends and emoluments, to a handsome extent; all - which stipends and emoluments he, covetous of far other blessedness than - mere money, does, in his chivalrous way, without scruple, refuse. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To the Parisian common man, meanwhile, one thing remains inconceivable: - that now when the Bastille is down, and French Liberty restored, grain - should continue so dear. Our Rights of Man are voted, Feudalism and all - Tyranny abolished; yet behold we stand <i>in queue!</i> Is it Aristocrat - forestallers; a Court still bent on intrigues? Something is rotten, - somewhere. - </p> - - <p> - And yet, alas, what to do? Lafayette, with his Patrols prohibits every - thing, even complaint. Saint-Huruge and other heroes of the <i>Veto</i> - lie in durance. People’s-Friend Marat was seized; Printers of Patriotic - Journals are fettered and forbidden; the very Hawkers cannot cry, till - they get license, and leaden badges. Blue National Guards ruthlessly - dissipate all groups; scour, with levelled bayonets, the Palais Royal - itself. Pass, on your affairs, along the Rue Taranne, the Patrol, - presenting his bayonet, cries, <i>To the left!</i> Turn into the Rue - Saint-Benoit, he cries, <i>To the right!</i> A judicious Patriot (like - Camille Desmoulins, in this instance) is driven, for quietness’s sake, to - take the gutter. - </p> - - <p> - O much-suffering People, our glorious Revolution is evaporating in - tricolor ceremonies, and complimentary harangues! Of which latter, as - Loustalot acridly calculates, “upwards of two thousand have been - delivered within the last month, at the Townhall alone.”<a - href="#linknote-229" name="linknoteref-229" - id="linknoteref-229">[229]</a> And our mouths, unfilled with bread, are - to be shut, under penalties? The Caricaturist promulgates his emblematic - Tablature: <i>Le Patrouillotisme chassant le Patriotisme</i>, Patriotism - driven out by Patrollotism. Ruthless Patrols; long superfine harangues; - and scanty ill-baked loaves, more like baked Bath bricks,—which - produce an effect on the intestines! Where will this end? In - consolidation? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"></a> - Chapter 1.7.II.<br/> - O Richard, O my King. - </h3> - - <p> - For, alas, neither is the Townhall itself without misgivings. The Nether - Sansculottic world has been suppressed hitherto: but then the Upper - Court-world! Symptoms there are that the Œil-de-Bœuf is rallying. - </p> - - <p> - More than once in the Townhall Sanhedrim; often enough, from those - outspoken Bakers’-queues, has the wish uttered itself: O that our - Restorer of French Liberty were here; that he could see with his own - eyes, not with the false eyes of Queens and Cabals, and his really good - heart be enlightened! For falsehood still environs him; intriguing Dukes - de Guiche, with Bodyguards; scouts of Bouillé; a new flight of - intriguers, now that the old is flown. What else means this advent of the - <i>Regiment de Flandre;</i> entering Versailles, as we hear, on the 23rd - of September, with two pieces of cannon? Did not the Versailles National - Guard do duty at the Château? Had they not Swiss; Hundred Swiss; - <i>Gardes-du-Corps</i>, Bodyguards so-called? Nay, it would seem, the - number of Bodyguards on duty has, by a manœuvre, been doubled: the new - relieving Battalion of them arrived at its time; but the old relieved one - does not <i>depart!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Actually, there runs a whisper through the best informed Upper-Circles, - or a nod still more potentous than whispering, of his Majesty’s flying to - Metz; of a Bond (to stand by him therein) which has been signed by - Noblesse and Clergy, to the incredible amount of thirty, or even of sixty - thousand. Lafayette coldly whispers it, and coldly asseverates it, to - Count d’Estaing at the Dinner-table; and d’Estaing, one of the bravest - men, quakes to the core lest some lackey overhear it; and tumbles - thoughtful, without sleep, all night.<a href="#linknote-230" - name="linknoteref-230" id="linknoteref-230">[230]</a> Regiment Flandre, - as we said, is clearly arrived. His Majesty, they say, hesitates about - sanctioning the Fourth of August; makes observations, of chilling tenor, - on the very Rights of Man! Likewise, may not all persons, the - Bakers’-queues themselves discern on the streets of Paris, the most - astonishing number of Officers on furlough, Crosses of St. Louis, and - such like? Some reckon “from a thousand to twelve hundred.” Officers of - all uniforms; nay one uniform never before seen by eye: green faced with - red! The tricolor cockade is not always visible: but what, in the name of - Heaven, may these <i>black</i> cockades, which some wear, foreshadow? - </p> - - <p> - Hunger whets everything, especially Suspicion and Indignation. Realities - themselves, in this Paris, have grown unreal: preternatural. Phantasms - once more stalk through the brain of hungry France. O ye laggards and - dastards, cry shrill voices from the Queues, if ye had the hearts of men, - ye would take your pikes and secondhand firelocks, and look into it; not - leave your wives and daughters to be starved, murdered, and - worse!—Peace, women! The heart of man is bitter and heavy; - Patriotism, driven out by Patrollotism, knows not what to resolve on. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The truth is, the Œil-de-Bœuf has rallied; to a certain unknown extent. A - changed Œil-de-Bœuf; with Versailles National Guards, in their tricolor - cockades, doing duty there; a Court all flaring with tricolor! Yet even - to a tricolor Court men will rally. Ye loyal hearts, burnt-out Seigneurs, - rally round your Queen! With wishes; which will produce hopes; which will - produce attempts! - </p> - - <p> - For indeed self-preservation being such a law of Nature, what can a - rallied Court do, but attempt and endeavour, or call it - <i>plot</i>,—with such wisdom and unwisdom as it has? They will - fly, escorted, to Metz, where brave Bouillé commands; they will raise the - Royal Standard: the Bond-signatures shall become armed men. Were not the - King so languid! Their Bond, if at all signed, must be signed without his - privity.—Unhappy King, <i>he</i> has but one resolution: not to - have a civil war. For the rest, he still hunts, having ceased lockmaking; - he still dozes, and digests; is clay in the hands of the potter. Ill will - it fare with him, in a world where all is helping itself; where, as has - been written, “whosoever is not hammer must be stithy;” and “the very - hyssop on the wall grows there, in that chink, because the whole Universe - could not prevent its growing!” - </p> - - <p> - But as for the coming up of this Regiment de Flandre, may it not be urged - that there were Saint-Huruge Petitions, and continual meal-mobs? - Undebauched Soldiers, be there plot, or only dim elements of a plot, are - always good. Did not the Versailles Municipality (an old Monarchic one, - not yet refounded into a Democratic) instantly second the proposal? Nay - the very Versailles National Guard, wearied with continual duty at the - Château, did not object; only Draper Lecointre, who is now Major - Lecointre, shook his head.—Yes, Friends, surely it was natural this - Regiment de Flandre should be sent for, since it could be got. It was - natural that, at sight of military bandoleers, the heart of the rallied - Œil-de-Bœuf should revive; and Maids of Honour, and gentlemen of honour, - speak comfortable words to epauletted defenders, and to one another. - Natural also, and mere common civility, that the Bodyguards, a Regiment - of Gentlemen, should invite their Flandre brethren to a Dinner of - welcome!—Such invitation, in the last days of September, is given - and accepted. - </p> - - <p> - Dinners are defined as “the <i>ultimate</i> act of communion;” men that - can have communion in nothing else, can sympathetically eat together, can - still rise into some glow of brotherhood over food and wine. The dinner - is fixed on, for Thursday the First of October; and ought to have a fine - effect. Further, as such Dinner may be rather extensive, and even the - Noncommissioned and the Common man be introduced, to see and to hear, - could not His Majesty’s Opera Apartment, which has lain quite silent ever - since Kaiser Joseph was here, be obtained for the purpose?—The Hall - of the Opera is granted; the Salon d’Hercule shall be drawingroom. Not - only the Officers of Flandre, but of the Swiss, of the Hundred Swiss, nay - of the Versailles National Guard, such of them as have any loyalty, shall - feast: it will be a Repast like few. - </p> - - <p> - And now suppose this Repast, the solid part of it, transacted; and the - first bottle over. Suppose the customary loyal toasts drunk; the King’s - health, the Queen’s with deafening vivats;—that of the Nation - “omitted,” or even “rejected.” Suppose champagne flowing; with - pot-valorous speech, with instrumental music; empty feathered heads - growing ever the noisier, in their own emptiness, in each other’s noise! - Her Majesty, who looks unusually sad tonight (his Majesty sitting dulled - with the day’s hunting), is told that the sight of it would cheer her. - Behold! She enters there, issuing from her State-rooms, like the Moon - from the clouds, this fairest unhappy Queen of Hearts; royal Husband by - her side, young Dauphin in her arms! She descends from the Boxes, amid - splendour and acclaim; walks queen-like, round the Tables; gracefully - escorted, gracefully nodding; her looks full of sorrow, yet of gratitude - and daring, with the hope of France on her mother-bosom! And now, the - band striking up, <i>O Richard, O mon Roi, l’univers t’abandonne</i> (O - Richard, O my King, and world is all forsaking thee)—could man do - other than rise to height of pity, of loyal valour? Could featherheaded - young ensigns do other than, by white Bourbon Cockades, handed them from - fair fingers; by waving of swords, drawn to pledge the Queen’s health; by - trampling of National Cockades; by scaling the Boxes, whence intrusive - murmurs may come; by vociferation, tripudiation, sound, fury and - distraction, within doors and without,—testify what tempest-tost - state of vacuity they are in? Till champagne and tripudiation do their - work; and all lie silent, horizontal; passively slumbering, with - meed-of-battle dreams!— - </p> - - <p> - A natural Repast, in ordinary times, a harmless one: now fatal, as that - of Thyestes; as that of Job’s Sons, when a strong wind smote the four - corners of their banquet-house! Poor ill-advised Marie-Antoinette; with a - woman’s vehemence, not with a sovereign’s foresight! It was so natural, - yet so unwise. Next day, in public speech of ceremony, her Majesty - declares herself “delighted with the Thursday.” - </p> - - <p> - The heart of the Œil-de-Bœuf glows into hope; into daring, which is - premature. Rallied Maids of Honour, waited on by Abbés, sew “white - cockades;” distribute them, with words, with glances, to epauletted - youths; who in return, may kiss, not without fervour, the fair sewing - fingers. Captains of horse and foot go swashing with “enormous white - cockades;” nay one Versailles National Captain had mounted the like, so - witching were the words and glances; and laid aside his tricolor! Well - may Major Lecointre shake his head with a look of severity; and speak - audible resentful words. But now a swashbuckler, with enormous white - cockade, overhearing the Major, invites him insolently, once and then - again elsewhere, to recant; and failing that, to duel. Which latter feat - Major Lecointre declares that he will not perform, not at least by any - known laws of fence; that he nevertheless will, according to mere law of - Nature, by dirk and blade, “exterminate” any “vile gladiator,” who may - insult him or the Nation;—whereupon (for the Major is actually - drawing his implement) “they are parted,” and no weasands slit.<a - href="#linknote-231" name="linknoteref-231" - id="linknoteref-231">[231]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"></a> - Chapter 1.7.III.<br/> - Black Cockades. - </h3> - - <p> - But fancy what effect this Thyestes Repast and trampling on the National - Cockade, must have had in the <i>Salle des Menus;</i> in the famishing - Bakers’-queues at Paris! Nay such Thyestes Repasts, it would seem, - continue. Flandre has given its Counter-Dinner to the Swiss and Hundred - Swiss; then on Saturday there has been another. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, here with us is famine; but yonder at Versailles is food; enough and - to spare! Patriotism stands in queue, shivering hungerstruck, insulted by - Patrollotism; while bloodyminded Aristocrats, heated with excess of high - living, trample on the National Cockade. Can the atrocity be true? Nay, - look: green uniforms faced with red; black cockades,—the colour of - Night! Are we to have military onfall; and death also by starvation? For - behold the Corbeil Cornboat, which used to come twice a-day, with its - Plaster-of-Paris meal, now comes only once. And the Townhall is deaf; and - the men are laggard and dastard!—At the Café de Foy, this Saturday - evening, a new thing is seen, not the last of its kind: a woman engaged - in public speaking. Her poor man, she says, was put to silence by his - District; their Presidents and Officials would not let him speak. - Wherefore she here with her shrill tongue will speak; denouncing, while - her breath endures, the Corbeil-Boat, the Plaster-of-Paris bread, - sacrilegious Opera-dinners, green uniforms, Pirate Aristocrats, and those - black cockades of theirs!— - </p> - - <p> - Truly, it is time for the black cockades at least, to vanish. Them - Patrollotism itself will not protect. Nay, sharp-tempered “M. Tassin,” at - the Tuileries parade on Sunday morning, forgets all National military - rule; starts from the ranks, wrenches down one black cockade which is - swashing ominous there; and tramples it fiercely into the soil of France. - Patrollotism itself is not without suppressed fury. Also the Districts - begin to stir; the voice of President Danton reverberates in the - Cordeliers: People’s-Friend Marat has flown to Versailles and back - again;—swart bird, not of the halcyon kind!<a href="#linknote-232" - name="linknoteref-232" id="linknoteref-232">[232]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so Patriot meets promenading Patriot, this Sunday; and sees his own - grim care reflected on the face of another. Groups, in spite of - Patrollotism, which is not so alert as usual, fluctuate deliberative: - groups on the Bridges, on the Quais, at the patriotic Cafés. And ever as - any black cockade may emerge, rises the many-voiced growl and bark: <i>À - bas</i>, Down! All black cockades are ruthlessly plucked off: one - individual picks his up again; kisses it, attempts to refix it; but a - “hundred canes start into the air,” and he desists. Still worse went it - with another individual; doomed, by extempore <i>Plebiscitum</i>, to the - Lanterne; saved, with difficulty, by some active - <i>Corps-de-Garde</i>.—Lafayette sees signs of an effervescence; - which he doubles his Patrols, doubles his diligence, to prevent. So - passes Sunday, the 4th of October 1789. - </p> - - <p> - Sullen is the male heart, repressed by Patrollotism; vehement is the - female, irrepressible. The public-speaking woman at the Palais Royal was - not the only speaking one:—Men know not what the pantry is, when it - grows empty, only house-mothers know. O women, wives of men that will - only calculate and not act! Patrollotism is strong; but Death, by - starvation and military onfall, is stronger. Patrollotism represses male - Patriotism: but female Patriotism? Will Guards named National thrust - their bayonets into the bosoms of women? Such thought, or rather such dim - unshaped raw-material of a thought, ferments universally under the female - night-cap; and, by earliest daybreak, on slight hint, will explode. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"></a> - Chapter 1.7.IV.<br/> - The Menads. - </h3> - - <p> - If Voltaire once, in splenetic humour, asked his countrymen: ‘But you, - <i>Gualches</i>, what have you invented?’ they can now answer: The Art of - Insurrection. It was an art needed in these last singular times: an art, - for which the French nature, so full of vehemence, so free from depth, - was perhaps of all others the fittest. - </p> - - <p> - Accordingly, to what a height, one may well say of perfection, has this - branch of human industry been carried by France, within the last - half-century! Insurrection, which, Lafayette thought, might be “the most - sacred of duties,” ranks now, for the French people, among the duties - which they can perform. Other mobs are dull masses; which roll onwards - with a dull fierce tenacity, a dull fierce heat, but emit no - light-flashes of genius as they go. The French mob, again, is among the - liveliest phenomena of our world. So rapid, audacious; so clear-sighted, - inventive, prompt to seize the moment; instinct with life to its - finger-ends! That talent, were there no other, of spontaneously standing - in queue, distinguishes, as we said, the French People from all Peoples, - ancient and modern. - </p> - - <p> - Let the Reader confess too that, taking one thing with another, perhaps - few terrestrial Appearances are better worth considering than mobs. Your - mob is a genuine outburst of Nature; issuing from, or communicating with, - the deepest deep of Nature. When so much goes grinning and grimacing as a - lifeless Formality, and under the stiff buckram no heart can be felt - beating, here once more, if nowhere else, is a Sincerity and Reality. - Shudder at it; or even shriek over it, if thou must; nevertheless - consider it. Such a Complex of human Forces and Individualities hurled - forth, in their transcendental mood, to act and react, on circumstances - and on one another; to work out what it is in them to work. The thing - they will do is known to no man; least of all to themselves. It is the - inflammablest immeasurable Fire-work, generating, consuming itself. With - what phases, to what extent, with what results it will burn off, - Philosophy and Perspicacity conjecture in vain. - </p> - - <p> - “Man,” as has been written, “is for ever interesting to man; nay properly - there is nothing else interesting.” In which light also, may we not - discern why most Battles have become so wearisome? Battles, in these - ages, are transacted by mechanism; with the slightest possible - developement of human individuality or spontaneity: men now even die, and - kill one another, in an artificial manner. Battles ever since Homer’s - time, when they were Fighting Mobs, have mostly ceased to be worth - looking at, worth reading of, or remembering. How many wearisome bloody - Battles does History strive to represent; or even, in a husky way, to - sing:—and she would omit or carelessly slur-over this one - Insurrection of Women? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - A thought, or dim raw-material of a thought, was fermenting all night, - universally in the female head, and might explode. In squalid garret, on - Monday morning, Maternity awakes, to hear children weeping for bread. - Maternity must forth to the streets, to the herb-markets and - Bakers’—queues; meets there with hunger-stricken Maternity, - sympathetic, exasperative. O we unhappy women! But, instead of - Bakers’-queues, why not to Aristocrats’ palaces, the root of the matter? - <i>Allons!</i> Let us assemble. To the Hôtel-de-Ville; to Versailles; to - the Lanterne! - </p> - - <p> - In one of the Guardhouses of the Quartier Saint-Eustache, “a young woman” - seizes a drum,—for how shall National Guards give fire on women, on - a young woman? The young woman seizes the drum; sets forth, beating it, - “uttering cries relative to the dearth of grains.” Descend, O mothers; - descend, ye Judiths, to food and revenge!—All women gather and go; - crowds storm all stairs, force out all women: the female Insurrectionary - Force, according to Camille, resembles the English Naval one; there is a - universal “Press of women.” Robust Dames of the Halle, slim - Mantua-makers, assiduous, risen with the dawn; ancient Virginity tripping - to matins; the Housemaid, with early broom; all must go. Rouse ye, O - women; the laggard men will not act; they say, we ourselves may act! - </p> - - <p> - And so, like snowbreak from the mountains, for every staircase is a - melted brook, it storms; tumultuous, wild-shrilling, towards the - Hôtel-de-Ville. Tumultuous, with or without drum-music: for the Faubourg - Saint-Antoine also has tucked up its gown; and, with besom-staves, - fire-irons, and even rusty pistols (void of ammunition), is flowing on. - Sound of it flies, with a velocity of sound, to the outmost Barriers. By - seven o’clock, on this raw October morning, fifth of the month, the - Townhall will see wonders. Nay, as chance would have it, a male party are - already there; clustering tumultuously round some National Patrol, and a - Baker who has been seized with short weights. They are there; and have - even lowered the rope of the Lanterne. So that the official persons have - to smuggle forth the short-weighing Baker by back doors, and even send - “to all the Districts” for more force. - </p> - - <p> - Grand it was, says Camille, to see so many Judiths, from eight to ten - thousand of them in all, rushing out to search into the root of the - matter! Not unfrightful it must have been; ludicro-terrific, and most - unmanageable. At such hour the overwatched Three Hundred are not yet - stirring: none but some Clerks, a company of National Guards; and M. de - Gouvion, the Major-general. Gouvion has fought in America for the cause - of civil Liberty; a man of no inconsiderable heart, but deficient in - head. He is, for the moment, in his back apartment; assuaging Usher - Maillard, the Bastille-serjeant, who has come, as too many do, with - “representations.” The assuagement is still incomplete when our Judiths - arrive. - </p> - - <p> - The National Guards form on the outer stairs, with levelled bayonets; the - ten thousand Judiths press up, resistless; with obtestations, with - outspread hands,—merely to speak to the Mayor. The rear forces - them; nay, from male hands in the rear, stones already fly: the National - Guards must do one of two things; sweep the Place de Grève with cannon, - or else open to right and left. They open; the living deluge rushes in. - Through all rooms and cabinets, upwards to the topmost belfry: ravenous; - seeking arms, seeking Mayors, seeking justice;—while, again, the - better-cressed (dressed?) speak kindly to the Clerks; point out the - misery of these poor women; also their ailments, some even of an - interesting sort.<a href="#linknote-233" name="linknoteref-233" - id="linknoteref-233">[233]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Poor M. de Gouvion is shiftless in this extremity;—a man shiftless, - perturbed; who will one day commit suicide. How happy for him that Usher - Maillard, the shifty, was there, at the moment, though making - representations! Fly back, thou shifty Maillard; seek the Bastille - Company; and O return fast with it; above all, with thy own shifty head! - For, behold, the Judiths can find no Mayor or Municipal; scarcely, in the - topmost belfry, can they find poor Abbé Lefevre the Powder-distributor. - Him, for want of a better, they suspend there; in the pale morning light; - over the top of all Paris, which swims in one’s failing eyes:—a - horrible end? Nay, the rope broke, as French ropes often did; or else an - Amazon cut it. Abbé Lefevre falls, some twenty feet, rattling among the - leads; and lives long years after, though always with “a - <i>tremblement</i> in the limbs.”<a href="#linknote-234" - name="linknoteref-234" id="linknoteref-234">[234]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And now doors fly under hatchets; the Judiths have broken the Armoury; - have seized guns and cannons, three money-bags, paper-heaps; torches - flare: in few minutes, our brave Hôtel-de-Ville which dates from the - Fourth Henry, will, with all that it holds, be in flames! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"></a> - Chapter 1.7.V.<br/> - Usher Maillard. - </h3> - - <p> - In flames, truly,—were it not that Usher Maillard, swift of foot, - shifty of head, has returned! - </p> - - <p> - Maillard, of his own motion, for Gouvion or the rest would not even - sanction him,—snatches a drum; descends the Porch-stairs, ran-tan, - beating sharp, with loud rolls, his Rogues’-march: To Versailles! - <i>Allons; a Versailles!</i> As men beat on kettle or warmingpan, when - angry she-bees, or say, flying desperate wasps, are to be hived; and the - desperate insects hear it, and cluster round it,—simply as round a - guidance, where there was none: so now these Menads round shifty - Maillard, Riding-Usher of the Châtelet. The axe pauses uplifted; Abbé - Lefevre is left half-hanged; from the belfry downwards all vomits itself. - What rub-a-dub is that? Stanislas Maillard, Bastille-hero, will lead us - to Versailles? Joy to thee, Maillard; blessed art thou above - Riding-Ushers! Away then, away! - </p> - - <p> - The seized cannon are yoked with seized cart-horses: brown-locked - Demoiselle Théroigne, with pike and helmet, sits there as gunneress, - “with haughty eye and serene fair countenance;” comparable, some think, - to the <i>Maid</i> of Orléans, or even recalling “the idea of Pallas - Athene.”<a href="#linknote-235" name="linknoteref-235" - id="linknoteref-235">[235]</a> Maillard (for his drum still rolls) is, by - heaven-rending acclamation, admitted General. Maillard hastens the - languid march. Maillard, beating rhythmic, with sharp ran-tan, all along - the Quais, leads forward, with difficulty his Menadic host. Such a - host—marched not in silence! The bargeman pauses on the River; all - wagoners and coachdrivers fly; men peer from windows,—not women, - lest they be pressed. Sight of sights: Bacchantes, in these ultimate - Formalized Ages! Bronze Henri looks on, from his Pont-Neuf; the Monarchic - Louvre, Medicean Tuileries see a day not theretofore seen. - </p> - - <p> - And now Maillard has his Menads in the <i>Champs Elysées</i> (Fields - <i>Tartarean</i> rather); and the Hôtel-de-Ville has suffered - comparatively nothing. Broken doors; an Abbé Lefevre, who shall never - more distribute powder; three sacks of money, most part of which (for - Sansculottism, though famishing, is not without honour) shall be - returned:<a href="#linknote-236" name="linknoteref-236" - id="linknoteref-236">[236]</a> this is all the damage. Great Maillard! A - small nucleus of Order is round his drum; but his outskirts fluctuate - like the mad Ocean: for Rascality male and female is flowing in on him, - from the four winds; guidance there is none but in his single head and - two drumsticks. - </p> - - <p> - O Maillard, when, since War first was, had General of Force such a task - before him, as thou this day? Walter the Penniless still touches the - feeling heart: but then Walter had sanction; had space to turn in; and - also his Crusaders were of the male sex. Thou, this day, disowned of - Heaven and Earth, art General of Menads. Their inarticulate frenzy thou - must on the spur of the instant, render into articulate words, into - actions that are not frantic. Fail in it, this way or that! Pragmatical - Officiality, with its penalties and law-books, waits before thee; Menads - storm behind. If such hewed off the melodious head of Orpheus, and hurled - it into the Peneus waters, what may they not make of thee,—thee - rhythmic merely, with no music but a sheepskin drum!—Maillard did - not fail. Remarkable Maillard, if fame were not an accident, and History - a distillation of Rumour, how remarkable wert thou! - </p> - - <p> - On the Elysian Fields, there is pause and fluctuation; but, for Maillard, - no return. He persuades his Menads, clamorous for arms and the Arsenal, - that no arms are in the Arsenal; that an unarmed attitude, and petition - to a National Assembly, will be the best: he hastily nominates or - sanctions generalesses, captains of tens and fifties;—and so, in - loosest-flowing order, to the rhythm of some “eight drums” (having laid - aside his own), with the Bastille Volunteers bringing up his rear, once - more takes the road. - </p> - - <p> - Chaillot, which will promptly yield baked loaves, is not plundered; nor - are the Sèvres Potteries broken. The old arches of Sèvres Bridge echo - under Menadic feet; Seine River gushes on with his perpetual murmur; and - Paris flings after us the boom of tocsin and alarm-drum,—inaudible, - for the present, amid shrill-sounding hosts, and the splash of rainy - weather. To Meudon, to Saint Cloud, on both hands, the report of them is - gone abroad; and hearths, this evening, will have a topic. The press of - women still continues, for it is the cause of all Eve’s Daughters, - mothers that are, or that hope to be. No carriage-lady, were it with - never such hysterics, but must dismount, in the mud roads, in her silk - shoes, and walk.<a href="#linknote-237" name="linknoteref-237" - id="linknoteref-237">[237]</a> In this manner, amid wild October weather, - they a wild unwinged stork-flight, through the astonished country, wend - their way. Travellers of all sorts they stop; especially travellers or - couriers from Paris. Deputy Lechapelier, in his elegant vesture, from his - elegant vehicle, looks forth amazed through his spectacles; apprehensive - for life;—states eagerly that he is Patriot-Deputy Lechapelier, and - even Old-President Lechapelier, who presided on the Night of Pentecost, - and is original member of the Breton Club. Thereupon “rises huge shout of - <i>Vive Lechapelier</i>, and several armed persons spring up behind and - before to escort him.”<a href="#linknote-238" name="linknoteref-238" - id="linknoteref-238">[238]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nevertheless, news, despatches from Lafayette, or vague noise of rumour, - have pierced through, by side roads. In the National Assembly, while all - is busy discussing the order of the day; regretting that there should be - Anti-national Repasts in Opera-Halls; that his Majesty should still - hesitate about accepting the Rights of Man, and hang conditions and - peradventures on them,—Mirabeau steps up to the President, - experienced Mounier as it chanced to be; and articulates, in bass - under-tone: ‘<i>Mounier, Paris marche sur nous</i> (Paris is marching on - us).’—‘May be (<i>Je n’en sais rien</i>)!’—‘Believe it or - disbelieve it, that is not my concern; but Paris, I say, is marching on - us. Fall suddenly unwell; go over to the Château; tell them this. There - is not a moment to lose.’—‘Paris marching on us?’ responds Mounier, - with an atrabiliar accent, ‘Well, so much the better! We shall the sooner - be a Republic.’ Mirabeau quits him, as one quits an experienced President - getting blindfold into deep waters; and the order of the day continues as - before. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, Paris is marching on us; and more than the women of Paris! Scarcely - was Maillard gone, when M. de Gouvion’s message to all the Districts, and - such tocsin and drumming of the <i>générale</i>, began to take effect. - Armed National Guards from every District; especially the Grenadiers of - the Centre, who are our old Gardes Françaises, arrive, in quick sequence, - on the Place de Grève. An “immense people” is there; Saint-Antoine, with - pike and rusty firelock, is all crowding thither, be it welcome or - unwelcome. The Centre Grenadiers are received with cheering: ‘it is not - cheers that we want,’ answer they gloomily; ‘the nation has been - insulted; to arms, and come with us for orders!’ Ha, sits the wind - <i>so?</i> Patriotism and Patrollotism are now one! - </p> - - <p> - The Three Hundred have assembled; “all the Committees are in activity;” - Lafayette is dictating despatches for Versailles, when a Deputation of - the Centre Grenadiers introduces itself to him. The Deputation makes - military obeisance; and thus speaks, not without a kind of thought in it: - ‘<i>Mon Général</i>, we are deputed by the Six Companies of Grenadiers. - We do not think you a traitor, but we think the Government betrays you; - it is time that this end. We cannot turn our bayonets against women - crying to us for bread. The people are miserable, the source of the - mischief is at Versailles: we must go seek the King, and bring him to - Paris. We must exterminate (<i>exterminer</i>) the <i>Regiment de - Flandre</i> and the <i>Gardes-du-Corps</i>, who have dared to trample on - the National Cockade. If the King be too weak to wear his crown, let him - lay it down. You will crown his Son, you will name a Council of Regency; - and all will go better.’<a href="#linknote-239" name="linknoteref-239" - id="linknoteref-239">[239]</a> Reproachful astonishment paints itself on - the face of Lafayette; speaks itself from his eloquent chivalrous lips: - in vain. ‘My General, we would shed the last drop of our blood for you; - but the root of the mischief is at Versailles; we must go and bring the - King to Paris; all the people wish it, <i>tout le peuple le veut</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - My General descends to the outer staircase; and harangues: once more in - vain. ‘To Versailles! To Versailles!’ Mayor Bailly, sent for through - floods of Sansculottism, attempts academic oratory from his gilt - state-coach; realizes nothing but infinite hoarse cries of: ‘Bread! To - Versailles!’—and gladly shrinks within doors. Lafayette mounts the - white charger; and again harangues and reharangues: with eloquence, with - firmness, indignant demonstration; with all things but persuasion. ‘To - Versailles! To Versailles!’ So lasts it, hour after hour; for the space - of half a day. - </p> - - <p> - The great Scipio Americanus can do nothing; not so much as escape. - ‘<i>Morbleu, mon Général</i>,’ cry the Grenadiers serrying their ranks as - the white charger makes a motion that way, ‘You will not leave us, you - will abide with us!’ A perilous juncture: Mayor Bailly and the Municipals - sit quaking within doors; My General is prisoner without: the Place de - Grève, with its thirty thousand Regulars, its whole irregular - Saint-Antoine and Saint-Marceau, is one minatory mass of clear or rusty - steel; all hearts set, with a moody fixedness, on one object. Moody, - fixed are all hearts: tranquil is no heart,—if it be not that of - the white charger, who paws there, with arched neck, composedly champing - his bit; as if no world, with its Dynasties and Eras, were now rushing - down. The drizzly day tends westward; the cry is still: ‘To Versailles!’ - </p> - - <p> - Nay now, borne from afar, come quite sinister cries; hoarse, - reverberating in longdrawn hollow murmurs, with syllables too like those - of <i>Lanterne!</i> Or else, irregular Sansculottism may be marching off, - of itself; with pikes, nay with cannon. The inflexible Scipio does at - length, by aide-de-camp, ask of the Municipals: Whether or not he may go? - A Letter is handed out to him, over armed heads; sixty thousand faces - flash fixedly on his, there is stillness and no bosom breathes, till he - have read. By Heaven, he grows suddenly pale! Do the Municipals permit? - “Permit and even order,”—since he can no other. Clangour of - approval rends the welkin. To your ranks, then; let us march! - </p> - - <p> - It is, as we compute, towards three in the afternoon. Indignant National - Guards may dine for once from their haversack: dined or undined, they - march with one heart. Paris flings up her windows, claps hands, as the - Avengers, with their shrilling drums and shalms tramp by; she will then - sit pensive, apprehensive, and pass rather a sleepless night.<a - href="#linknote-240" name="linknoteref-240" - id="linknoteref-240">[240]</a> On the white charger, Lafayette, in the - slowest possible manner, going and coming, and eloquently haranguing - among the ranks, rolls onward with his thirty thousand. Saint-Antoine, - with pike and cannon, has preceded him; a mixed multitude, of all and of - no arms, hovers on his flanks and skirts; the country once more pauses - agape: <i>Paris marche sur nous</i>. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"></a> - Chapter 1.7.VI.<br/> - To Versailles. - </h3> - - <p> - For, indeed, about this same moment, Maillard has halted his draggled - Menads on the last hill-top; and now Versailles, and the Château of - Versailles, and far and wide the inheritance of Royalty opens to the - wondering eye. From far on the right, over Marly and - Saint-Germains-en-Laye; round towards Rambouillet, on the left: beautiful - all; softly embosomed; as if in sadness, in the dim moist weather! And - near before us is Versailles, New and Old; with that broad frondent - <i>Avenue de Versailles</i> between,—stately-frondent, broad, three - hundred feet as men reckon, with four Rows of Elms; and then the - <i>Château de Versailles</i>, ending in royal Parks and Pleasances, - gleaming lakelets, arbours, Labyrinths, the <i>Ménagerie</i>, and Great - and Little Trianon. High-towered dwellings, leafy pleasant places; where - the gods of this lower world abide: whence, nevertheless, black Care - cannot be excluded; whither Menadic Hunger is even now advancing, armed - with pike-thyrsi! - </p> - - <p> - Yes, yonder, Mesdames, where our straight frondent Avenue, joined, as you - note, by Two frondent brother Avenues from this hand and from that, - spreads out into Place Royale and Palace Forecourt; yonder is the - <i>Salle des Menus</i>. Yonder an august Assembly sits regenerating - France. Forecourt, Grand Court, Court of Marble, Court narrowing into - Court you may discern next, or fancy: on the extreme verge of which that - glass-dome, visibly glittering like a star of hope, is - the—Œil-de-Bœuf! Yonder, or nowhere in the world, is bread baked - for us. But, O Mesdames, were not one thing good: That our cannons, with - Demoiselle Théroigne and all show of war, be put to the rear? Submission - beseems petitioners of a National Assembly; we are strangers in - Versailles,—whence, too audibly, there comes even now sound as of - tocsin and <i>générale!</i> Also to put on, if possible, a cheerful - countenance, hiding our sorrows; and even to sing? Sorrow, pitied of the - Heavens, is hateful, suspicious to the Earth.—So counsels shifty - Maillard; haranguing his Menads, on the heights near Versailles.<a - href="#linknote-241" name="linknoteref-241" - id="linknoteref-241">[241]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Cunning Maillard’s dispositions are obeyed. The draggled Insurrectionists - advance up the Avenue, “in three columns”, among the four Elm-rows; - “singing <i>Henri Quatre</i>,” with what melody they can; and shouting - <i>Vive le Roi</i>. Versailles, though the Elm-rows are dripping wet, - crowds from both sides, with: ‘<i>Vivent nos Parisiennes</i>, Our Paris - ones for ever!’ - </p> - - <p> - Prickers, scouts have been out towards Paris, as the rumour deepened: - whereby his Majesty, gone to shoot in the Woods of Meudon, has been - happily discovered, and got home; and the <i>générale</i> and tocsin set - a-sounding. The Bodyguards are already drawn up in front of the Palace - Grates; and look down the Avenue de Versailles; sulky, in wet buckskins. - Flandre too is there, repentant of the Opera-Repast. Also Dragoons - dismounted are there. Finally Major Lecointre, and what he can gather of - the Versailles National Guard; though, it is to be observed, our Colonel, - that same sleepless Count d’Estaing, giving neither order nor ammunition, - has vanished most improperly; one supposes, into the Œil-de-Bœuf. - Red-coated Swiss stand within the Grates, under arms. There likewise, in - their inner room, “all the Ministers,” Saint-Priest, Lamentation - Pompignan and the rest, are assembled with M. Necker: they sit with him - there; blank, expecting what the hour will bring. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - President Mounier, though he answered Mirabeau with a <i>tant mieux</i>, - and affected to slight the matter, had his own forebodings. Surely, for - these four weary hours, he has reclined not on roses! The order of the - day is getting forward: a Deputation to his Majesty seems proper, that it - might please him to grant “Acceptance pure and simple” to those - Constitution-Articles of ours; the “mixed qualified Acceptance,” with its - peradventures, is satisfactory to neither gods nor men. - </p> - - <p> - So much is clear. And yet there is more, which no man speaks, which all - men now vaguely understand. Disquietude, absence of mind is on every - face; Members whisper, uneasily come and go: the order of the day is - evidently not the day’s want. Till at length, from the outer gates, is - heard a rustling and justling, shrill uproar and squabbling, muffled by - walls; which testifies that the hour is come! Rushing and crushing one - hears now; then enter Usher Maillard, with a Deputation of Fifteen muddy - dripping Women,—having by incredible industry, and aid of all the - macers, persuaded the rest to wait out of doors. National Assembly shall - now, therefore, look its august task directly in the face: regenerative - Constitutionalism has an unregenerate Sansculottism bodily in front of - it; crying, ‘Bread! Bread!’ - </p> - - <p> - Shifty Maillard, translating frenzy into articulation; repressive with - the one hand, expostulative with the other, does his best; and really, - though not bred to public speaking, manages rather well:—In the - present dreadful rarity of grains, a Deputation of Female Citizens has, - as the august Assembly can discern, come out from Paris to petition. - Plots of Aristocrats are too evident in the matter; for example, one - miller has been bribed “by a banknote of 200 livres” not to - grind,—name unknown to the Usher, but fact provable, at least - indubitable. Further, it seems, the National Cockade has been trampled - on; also there are Black Cockades, or were. All which things will not an - august National Assembly, the hope of France, take into its wise - immediate consideration? - </p> - - <p> - And Menadic Hunger, impressible, crying ‘Black Cockades,’ crying ‘Bread, - Bread,’ adds, after such fashion: ‘Will it not?—Yes, Messieurs, if - a Deputation to his Majesty, for the “Acceptance pure and simple,” seemed - proper,—how much more now, for “the afflicting situation of Paris;” - for the calming of this effervescence!’ President Mounier, with a speedy - Deputation, among whom we notice the respectable figure of Doctor - Guillotin, gets himself forthwith on march. Vice-President shall continue - the order of the day; Usher Maillard shall stay by him to repress the - women. It is four o’clock, of the miserablest afternoon, when Mounier - steps out. - </p> - - <p> - O experienced Mounier, what an afternoon; the last of thy political - existence! Better had it been to “fall suddenly unwell,” while it was yet - time. For, behold, the Esplanade, over all its spacious expanse, is - covered with groups of squalid dripping Women; of lankhaired male - Rascality, armed with axes, rusty pikes, old muskets, ironshod clubs - (<i>batons ferrés</i>, which end in knives or sword-blades, a kind of - extempore billhook);—looking nothing but hungry revolt. The rain - pours: Gardes-du-Corps go caracoling through the groups “amid hisses;” - irritating and agitating what is but dispersed here to reunite there. - </p> - - <p> - Innumerable squalid women beleaguer the President and Deputation; insist - on going with him: has not his Majesty himself, looking from the window, - sent out to ask, What we wanted? ‘Bread and speech with the King (<i>Du - pain, et parler au Roi</i>),’ that was the answer. Twelve women are - clamorously added to the Deputation; and march with it, across the - Esplanade; through dissipated groups, caracoling Bodyguards, and the - pouring rain. - </p> - - <p> - President Mounier, unexpectedly augmented by Twelve Women, copiously - escorted by Hunger and Rascality, is himself mistaken for a group: - himself and his Women are dispersed by caracolers; rally again with - difficulty, among the mud.<a href="#linknote-242" name="linknoteref-242" - id="linknoteref-242">[242]</a> Finally the Grates are opened: the - Deputation gets access, with the Twelve Women too in it; of which latter, - Five shall even see the face of his Majesty. Let wet Menadism, in the - best spirits it can expect their return. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"></a> - Chapter 1.7.VII.<br/> - At Versailles. - </h3> - - <p> - But already Pallas Athene (in the shape of Demoiselle Théroigne) is busy - with Flandre and the dismounted Dragoons. She, and such women as are - fittest, go through the ranks; speak with an earnest jocosity; clasp - rough troopers to their patriot bosom, crush down spontoons and - musketoons with soft arms: can a man, that were worthy of the name of - man, attack famishing patriot women? - </p> - - <p> - One reads that Théroigne had bags of money, which she distributed over - Flandre:—furnished by whom? Alas, with money-bags one seldom sits - on insurrectionary cannon. Calumnious Royalism! Théroigne had only the - limited earnings of her profession of unfortunate-female; money she had - not, but brown locks, the figure of a heathen Goddess, and an eloquent - tongue and heart. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile, Saint-Antoine, in groups and troops, is continually arriving; - wetted, sulky; with pikes and impromptu billhooks: driven thus far by - popular fixed-idea. So many hirsute figures driven hither, in that - manner: figures that have come to do they know not what; figures that - have come to see it done! Distinguished among all figures, who is this, - of gaunt stature, with leaden breastplate, though a small one;<a - href="#linknote-243" name="linknoteref-243" - id="linknoteref-243">[243]</a> bushy in red grizzled locks; nay, with - long tile-beard? It is Jourdan, unjust dealer in mules; a dealer no - longer, but a Painter’s Layfigure, playing truant this day. From the - necessities of Art comes his long tile-beard; whence his leaden - breastplate (unless indeed he were some Hawker licensed by leaden badge) - may have come,—will perhaps remain for ever a Historical Problem. - Another Saul among the people we discern: “<i>Père Adam</i>, Father - Adam,” as the groups name him; to us better known as bull-voiced Marquis - Saint-Huruge; hero of the <i>Veto;</i> a man that has had losses, and - deserved them. The tall Marquis, emitted some days ago from limbo, looks - peripatetically on this scene, from under his umbrella, not without - interest. All which persons and things, hurled together as we see; Pallas - Athene, busy with Flandre; patriotic Versailles National Guards, short of - ammunition, and deserted by d’Estaing their Colonel, and commanded by - Lecointre their Major; then caracoling Bodyguards, sour, dispirited, with - their buckskins wet; and finally this flowing sea of indignant - Squalor,—may they not give rise to occurrences? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Behold, however, the Twelve She-deputies return from the Château. Without - President Mounier, indeed; but radiant with joy, shouting ‘<i>Life to the - King and his House</i>.’ Apparently the news are good, Mesdames? News of - the best! Five of us were admitted to the internal splendours, to the - Royal Presence. This slim damsel, “Louison Chabray, worker in sculpture, - aged only seventeen,” as being of the best looks and address, her we - appointed speaker. On whom, and indeed on all of us, his Majesty looked - nothing but graciousness. Nay, when Louison, addressing him, was like to - faint, he took her in his royal arms; and said gallantly, ‘It was well - worth while (<i>Elle en valût bien la peine</i>).’ Consider, O women, - what a King! His words were of comfort, and that only: there shall be - provision sent to Paris, if provision is in the world; grains shall - circulate free as air; millers shall grind, or do worse, while their - millstones endure; and nothing be left wrong which a Restorer of French - Liberty can right. - </p> - - <p> - Good news these; but, to wet Menads, all too incredible! There seems no - proof, then? <i>Words</i> of comfort are words only; which will feed - nothing. O miserable people, betrayed by Aristocrats, who corrupt thy - very messengers! In his royal arms, Mademoiselle Louison? In his arms? - Thou shameless minx, worthy of a name—that shall be nameless! Yes, - thy skin is soft: ours is rough with hardship; and well wetted, waiting - here in the rain. No children hast thou hungry at home; only alabaster - dolls, that weep not! The traitress! To the Lanterne!—And so poor - Louison Chabray, no asseveration or shrieks availing her, fair slim - damsel, late in the arms of Royalty, has a garter round her neck, and - furibund Amazons at each end; is about to perish so,—when two - Bodyguards gallop up, indignantly dissipating; and rescue her. The - miscredited Twelve hasten back to the Château, for an “answer in - writing.” - </p> - - <p> - Nay, behold, a new flight of Menads, with “M. Brunout Bastille - Volunteer,” as impressed-commandant, at the head of it. These also will - advance to the Grate of the Grand Court, and see what is toward. Human - patience, in wet buckskins, has its limits. Bodyguard Lieutenant, M. de - Savonnières, for one moment, lets his temper, long provoked, long pent, - give way. He not only dissipates these latter Menads; but caracoles and - cuts, or indignantly flourishes, at M. Brunout, the impressed-commandant; - and, finding great relief in it, even chases him; Brunout flying nimbly, - though in a pirouette manner, and now with sword also drawn. At which - sight of wrath and victory two other Bodyguards (for wrath is contagious, - and to pent Bodyguards is so solacing) do likewise give way; give chase, - with brandished sabre, and in the air make horrid circles. So that poor - Brunout has nothing for it but to retreat with accelerated nimbleness, - through rank after rank; Parthian-like, fencing as he flies; above all, - shouting lustily, ‘<i>On nous laisse assassiner</i>, They are getting us - assassinated?’ - </p> - - <p> - Shameful! Three against one! Growls come from the Lecointrian ranks; - bellowings,—lastly shots. Savonnières” arm is raised to strike: the - bullet of a Lecointrian musket shatters it; the brandished sabre jingles - down harmless. Brunout has escaped, this duel well ended: but the wild - howl of war is everywhere beginning to pipe! - </p> - - <p> - The Amazons recoil; Saint-Antoine has its cannon pointed (full of - grapeshot); thrice applies the lit flambeau; which thrice refuses to - catch,—the touchholes are so wetted; and voices cry: ‘<i>Arrêtez, - il n’est pas temps encore</i>, Stop, it is not yet time!’<a - href="#linknote-244" name="linknoteref-244" - id="linknoteref-244">[244]</a> Messieurs of the Garde-du-Corps, ye had - orders not to fire; nevertheless two of you limp dismounted, and one - war-horse lies slain. Were it not well to draw back out of shot-range; - finally to file off,—into the interior? If in so filing off, there - did a musketoon or two discharge itself, at these armed shopkeepers, - hooting and crowing, could man wonder? Draggled are your white cockades - of an enormous size; would to Heaven they were got exchanged for tricolor - ones! Your buckskins are wet, your hearts heavy. Go, and return not! - </p> - - <p> - The Bodyguards file off, as we hint; giving and receiving shots; drawing - no life-blood; leaving boundless indignation. Some three times in the - thickening dusk, a glimpse of them is seen, at this or the other Portal: - saluted always with execrations, with the whew of lead. Let but a - Bodyguard shew face, he is hunted by Rascality;—for instance, poor - “M. de Moucheton of the Scotch Company,” owner of the slain war-horse; - and has to be smuggled off by Versailles Captains. Or rusty firelocks - belch after him, shivering asunder his—hat. In the end, by superior - Order, the Bodyguards, all but the few on immediate duty, disappear; or - as it were abscond; and march, under cloud of night, to Rambouillet.<a - href="#linknote-245" name="linknoteref-245" - id="linknoteref-245">[245]</a> - </p> - - <p> - We remark also that the Versaillese have now got ammunition: all - afternoon, the official Person could find none; till, in these so - critical moments, a patriotic Sublieutenant set a pistol to his ear, and - would thank him to find some,—which he thereupon succeeded in - doing. Likewise that Flandre, disarmed by Pallas Athene, says openly, it - will not fight with citizens; and for token of peace, has exchanged - cartridges with the Versaillese. - </p> - - <p> - Sansculottism is now among mere friends; and can “circulate freely;” - indignant at Bodyguards;—complaining also considerably of hunger. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"></a> - Chapter 1.7.VIII.<br/> - The Equal Diet. - </h3> - - <p> - But why lingers Mounier; returns not with his Deputation? It is six, it - is seven o’clock; and still no Mounier, no Acceptance pure and simple. - </p> - - <p> - And, behold, the dripping Menads, not now in deputation but in mass, have - penetrated into the Assembly: to the shamefullest interruption of public - speaking and order of the day. Neither Maillard nor Vice-President can - restrain them, except within wide limits; not even, except for minutes, - can the lion-voice of Mirabeau, though they applaud it: but ever and anon - they break in upon the regeneration of France with cries of: ‘Bread; not - so much discoursing! <i>Du pain; pas tant de longs - discours!</i>’—So insensible were these poor creatures to bursts of - Parliamentary eloquence! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - One learns also that the royal Carriages are getting yoked, as if for - Metz. Carriages, royal or not, have verily showed themselves at the back - Gates. They even produced, or quoted, a written order from our Versailles - Municipality,—which is a Monarchic not a Democratic one. However, - Versailles Patroles drove them in again; as the vigilant Lecointre had - strictly charged them to do. - </p> - - <p> - A busy man, truly, is Major Lecointre, in these hours. For Colonel - d’Estaing loiters invisible in the Œil-de-Bœuf; invisible, or still more - questionably <i>visible</i>, for instants: then also a too loyal - Municipality requires supervision: no order, civil or military, taken - about any of these thousand things! Lecointre is at the Versailles - Townhall: he is at the Grate of the Grand Court; communing with Swiss and - Bodyguards. He is in the ranks of Flandre; he is here, he is there: - studious to prevent bloodshed; to prevent the Royal Family from flying to - Metz; the Menads from plundering Versailles. - </p> - - <p> - At the fall of night, we behold him advance to those armed groups of - Saint-Antoine, hovering all-too grim near the Salle des Menus. They - receive him in a half-circle; twelve speakers behind cannons, with - lighted torches in hand, the cannon-mouths <i>towards</i> Lecointre: a - picture for Salvator! He asks, in temperate but courageous language: What - they, by this their journey to Versailles, do specially want? The twelve - speakers reply, in few words inclusive of much: ‘Bread, and the end of - these brabbles, <i>Du pain, et la fin des affaires</i>.’ When the - <i>affairs</i> will end, no Major Lecointre, nor no mortal, can say; but - as to bread, he inquires, How many are you?—learns that they are - six hundred, that a loaf each will suffice; and rides off to the - Municipality to get six hundred loaves. - </p> - - <p> - Which loaves, however, a Municipality of Monarchic temper will not give. - It will give two tons of rice rather,—could you but know whether it - should be boiled or raw. Nay when this too is accepted, the Municipals - have disappeared;—ducked under, as the Six-and-Twenty Long-gowned - of Paris did; and, leaving not the smallest vestage of rice, in the - boiled or raw state, they there vanish from History! - </p> - - <p> - Rice comes not; one’s hope of food is baulked; even one’s hope of - vengeance: is not M. de Moucheton of the Scotch Company, as we said, - deceitfully smuggled off? Failing all which, behold only M. de - Moucheton’s slain warhorse, lying on the Esplanade there! Saint-Antoine, - baulked, esurient, pounces on the slain warhorse; flays it; roasts it, - with such fuel, of paling, gates, portable timber as can be come - at,—not without shouting: and, after the manner of ancient Greek - Heroes, <i>they lifted their hands to the daintily readied repast;</i> - such as it might be.<a href="#linknote-246" name="linknoteref-246" - id="linknoteref-246">[246]</a> Other Rascality prowls discursive; seeking - what it may devour. Flandre will retire to its barracks; Lecointre also - with his Versaillese,—all but the vigilant Patrols, charged to be - doubly vigilant. - </p> - - <p> - So sink the shadows of Night, blustering, rainy; and all paths grow dark. - Strangest Night ever seen in these regions,—perhaps since the - Bartholomew Night, when Versailles, as Bassompierre writes of it, was a - <i>chétif château</i>. O for the Lyre of some Orpheus, to constrain, with - touch of melodious strings, these mad masses into Order! For here all - seems fallen asunder, in wide-yawning dislocation. The highest, as in - down-rushing of a World, is come in contact with the lowest: the - Rascality of France beleaguering the Royalty of France; “ironshod batons” - lifted round the diadem, not to guard it! With denunciations of - bloodthirsty Anti-national Bodyguards, are heard dark growlings against a - Queenly Name. - </p> - - <p> - The Court sits tremulous, powerless; varies with the varying temper of - the Esplanade, with the varying colour of the rumours from Paris. - Thick-coming rumours; now of peace, now of war. Necker and all the - Ministers consult; with a blank issue. The Œil-de-Bœuf is one tempest of - whispers:—We will fly to Metz; we will not fly. The royal Carriages - again attempt egress;—though for trial merely; they are again - driven in by Lecointre’s Patrols. In six hours, nothing has been resolved - on; not even the Acceptance pure and simple. - </p> - - <p> - In six hours? Alas, he who, in such circumstances, cannot resolve in six - minutes, may give up the enterprise: him Fate has already resolved for. - And Menadism, meanwhile, and Sansculottism takes counsel with the - National Assembly; grows more and more tumultuous there. Mounier returns - not; Authority nowhere shews itself: the Authority of France lies, for - the present, with Lecointre and Usher Maillard.—This then is the - abomination of desolation; come suddenly, though long foreshadowed as - inevitable! For, to the blind, all things are sudden. Misery which, - through long ages, had no spokesman, no helper, will now be its own - helper and speak for itself. The dialect, one of the rudest, is, what it - could be, <i>this</i>. - </p> - - <p> - At eight o’clock there returns to our Assembly not the Deputation; but - Doctor Guillotin announcing that it will return; also that there is hope - of the Acceptance pure and simple. He himself has brought a Royal Letter, - authorising and commanding the freest “circulation of grains.” Which - Royal Letter Menadism with its whole heart applauds. Conformably to which - the Assembly forthwith passes a Decree; also received with rapturous - Menadic plaudits:—Only could not an august Assembly contrive - further to ‘<i>fix</i> the price of bread at eight sous the - half-quartern; butchers’-meat at six sous the pound;’ which seem fair - rates? Such motion do “a multitude of men and women,” irrepressible by - Usher Maillard, now make; does an august Assembly hear made. Usher - Maillard himself is not always perfectly measured in speech; but if - rebuked, he can justly excuse himself by the peculiarity of the - circumstances.<a href="#linknote-247" name="linknoteref-247" - id="linknoteref-247">[247]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But finally, this Decree well passed, and the disorder continuing; and - Members melting away, and no President Mounier returning,—what can - the Vice-President do but also melt away? The Assembly melts, under such - pressure, into deliquium; or, as it is officially called, adjourns. - Maillard is despatched to Paris, with the “Decree concerning Grains” in - his pocket; he and some women, in carriages belonging to the King. - Thitherward slim Louison Chabray has already set forth, with that - “written answer,” which the Twelve She-deputies returned in to seek. Slim - sylph, she has set forth, through the black muddy country: she has much - to tell, her poor nerves so flurried; and travels, as indeed today on - this road all persons do, with extreme slowness. President Mounier has - not come, nor the Acceptance pure and simple; though six hours with their - events have come; though courier on courier reports that Lafayette is - coming. Coming, with war or with peace? It is time that the Château also - should determine on one thing or another; that the Château also should - show itself alive, if it would continue living! - </p> - - <p> - Victorious, joyful after such delay, Mounier does arrive at last, and the - hard-earned Acceptance with him; which now, alas, is of small value. - Fancy Mounier’s surprise to find his Senate, whom he hoped to charm by - the Acceptance pure and simple,—all gone; and in its stead a Senate - of Menads! For as Erasmus’s Ape mimicked, say with wooden splint, Erasmus - shaving, so do these Amazons hold, in mock majesty, some confused parody - of National Assembly. They make motions; deliver speeches; pass - enactments; productive at least of loud laughter. All galleries and - benches are filled; a strong Dame of the Market is in Mounier’s Chair. - Not without difficulty, Mounier, by aid of macers, and persuasive - speaking, makes his way to the Female-President: the Strong Dame before - abdicating signifies that, for one thing, she and indeed her whole senate - male and female (for what was one roasted warhorse among so many?) are - suffering very considerably from hunger. - </p> - - <p> - Experienced Mounier, in these circumstances, takes a twofold resolution: - To reconvoke his Assembly Members by sound of drum; also to procure a - supply of food. Swift messengers fly, to all bakers, cooks, pastrycooks, - vintners, restorers; drums beat, accompanied with shrill vocal - proclamation, through all streets. They come: the Assembly Members come; - what is still better, the provisions come. On tray and barrow come these - latter; loaves, wine, great store of sausages. The nourishing baskets - circulate harmoniously along the benches; nor, according to the Father of - Epics, <i>did any soul lack a fair share of victual</i> - (δαῖτος ὲἱσης), - <i>an equal diet</i>); highly desirable, at the moment.<a - href="#linknote-248" name="linknoteref-248" - id="linknoteref-248">[248]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Gradually some hundred or so of Assembly members get edged in, Menadism - making way a little, round Mounier’s Chair; listen to the Acceptance pure - and simple; and begin, what is the order of the night, “discussion of the - Penal Code.” All benches are crowded; in the dusky galleries, duskier - with unwashed heads, is a strange “coruscation,”—of impromptu - billhooks.<a href="#linknote-249" name="linknoteref-249" - id="linknoteref-249">[249]</a> It is exactly five months this day since - these same galleries were filled with high-plumed jewelled Beauty, - raining bright influences; and now? To such length have we got in - regenerating France. Methinks the travail-throes are of the - sharpest!—Menadism will not be restrained from occasional remarks; - asks, ‘What is use of the Penal Code? The thing we want is Bread.’ - Mirabeau turns round with lion-voiced rebuke; Menadism applauds him; but - recommences. - </p> - - <p> - Thus they, chewing tough sausages, discussing the Penal Code, make night - hideous. What the issue will be? Lafayette with his thirty thousand must - arrive first: him, who cannot now be distant, all men expect, as the - messenger of Destiny. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"></a> - Chapter 1.7.IX.<br/> - Lafayette. - </h3> - - <p> - Towards midnight lights flare on the hill; Lafayette’s lights! The roll - of his drums comes up the Avenue de Versailles. With peace, or with war? - Patience, friends! With neither. Lafayette is come, but not yet the - catastrophe. - </p> - - <p> - He has halted and harangued so often, on the march; spent nine hours on - four leagues of road. At Montreuil, close on Versailles, the whole Host - had to pause; and, with uplifted right hand, in the murk of Night, to - these pouring skies, swear solemnly to respect the King’s Dwelling; to be - faithful to King and National Assembly. Rage is driven down out of sight, - by the laggard march; the thirst of vengeance slaked in weariness and - soaking clothes. Flandre is again drawn out under arms: but Flandre, - grown so patriotic, now needs no “exterminating.” The wayworn Batallions - halt in the Avenue: they have, for the present, no wish so pressing as - that of shelter and rest. - </p> - - <p> - Anxious sits President Mounier; anxious the Château. There is a message - coming from the Château, that M. Mounier would please return thither with - a fresh Deputation, swiftly; and so at least <i>unite</i> our two - anxieties. Anxious Mounier does of himself send, meanwhile, to apprise - the General that his Majesty has been so gracious as to grant us the - Acceptance pure and simple. The General, with a small advance column, - makes answer in passing; speaks vaguely some smooth words to the National - President,—glances, only with the eye, at that so mixtiform - National Assembly; then fares forward towards the Château. There are with - him two Paris Municipals; they were chosen from the Three Hundred for - that errand. He gets admittance through the locked and padlocked Grates, - through sentries and ushers, to the Royal Halls. - </p> - - <p> - The Court, male and female, crowds on his passage, to read their doom on - his face; which exhibits, say Historians, a mixture “of sorrow, of - fervour and valour,” singular to behold.<a href="#linknote-250" - name="linknoteref-250" id="linknoteref-250">[250]</a> The King, with - Monsieur, with Ministers and Marshals, is waiting to receive him: He ‘is - come,’ in his highflown chivalrous way, ‘to offer his head for the safety - of his Majesty’s.’ The two Municipals state the wish of Paris: four - things, of quite pacific tenor. First, that the honour of Guarding his - sacred person be conferred on patriot National Guards;—say, the - Centre Grenadiers, who as Gardes Françaises were wont to have that - privilege. Second, that provisions be got, if possible. Third, that the - Prisons, all crowded with political delinquents, may have judges sent - them. Fourth, <i>that it would please his Majesty to come and live in - Paris.</i> To all which four wishes, except the fourth, his Majesty - answers readily, Yes; or indeed may almost say that he has already - answered it. To the fourth he can answer only, Yes or No; would so gladly - answer, Yes <i>and</i> No!—But, in any case, are not their - dispositions, thank Heaven, so entirely pacific? There is time for - deliberation. The brunt of the danger seems past! - </p> - - <p> - Lafayette and d’Estaing settle the watches; Centre Grenadiers are to take - the Guard-room they of old occupied as Gardes Françaises;—for - indeed the Gardes du Corps, its late ill-advised occupants, are gone - mostly to Rambouillet. That is the order of <i>this</i> night; sufficient - for the night is the evil thereof. Whereupon Lafayette and the two - Municipals, with highflown chivalry, take their leave. - </p> - - <p> - So brief has the interview been, Mounier and his Deputation were not yet - got up. So brief and satisfactory. A stone is rolled from every heart. - The fair Palace Dames publicly declare that this Lafayette, detestable - though he be, is their saviour for once. Even the ancient vinaigrous - <i>Tantes</i> admit it; the King’s Aunts, ancient <i>Graille</i> and - Sisterhood, known to us of old. Queen Marie-Antoinette has been heard - often say the like. She alone, among all women and all men, wore a face - of courage, of lofty calmness and resolve, this day. She alone saw - clearly what she <i>meant</i> to do; and Theresa’s Daughter <i>dares</i> - do what she means, were all France threatening her: abide where her - children are, where her husband is. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Towards three in the morning all things are settled: the watches set, the - Centre Grenadiers put into their old Guard-room, and harangued; the - Swiss, and few remaining Bodyguards harangued. The wayworn Paris - Batallions, consigned to “the hospitality of Versailles,” lie dormant in - spare-beds, spare-barracks, coffeehouses, empty churches. A troop of - them, on their way to the Church of Saint-Louis, awoke poor Weber, - dreaming troublous, in the Rue Sartory. Weber has had his - waistcoat-pocket full of balls all day; “two hundred balls, and two - <i>pears</i> of powder!” For waistcoats were waistcoats then, and had - flaps down to mid-thigh. So many balls he has had all day; but no - opportunity of using them: he turns over now, execrating disloyal - bandits; swears a prayer or two, and straight to sleep again. - </p> - - <p> - Finally, the National Assembly is harangued; which thereupon, on motion - of Mirabeau, discontinues the Penal Code, and dismisses for this night. - Menadism, Sansculottism has cowered into guard-houses, barracks of - Flandre, to the light of cheerful fire; failing that, to churches, - office-houses, sentry-boxes, wheresoever wretchedness can find a lair. - The troublous Day has brawled itself to rest: no lives yet lost but that - of one warhorse. Insurrectionary Chaos lies slumbering round the Palace, - like Ocean round a Diving-bell,—no crevice yet disclosing itself. - </p> - - <p> - Deep sleep has fallen promiscuously on the high and on the low; - suspending most things, even wrath and famine. Darkness covers the Earth. - But, far on the North-east, Paris flings up her great yellow gleam; far - into the wet black Night. For all is illuminated there, as in the old - July Nights; the streets deserted, for alarm of war; the Municipals all - wakeful; Patrols hailing, with their hoarse <i>Who-goes</i>. There, as we - discover, our poor slim Louison Chabray, her poor nerves all fluttered, - is arriving about this very hour. There Usher Maillard will arrive, about - an hour hence, “towards four in the morning.” They report, successively, - to a wakeful Hôtel-de-Ville what comfort they can report; which again, - with early dawn, large comfortable Placards, shall impart to all men. - </p> - - <p> - Lafayette, in the Hôtel de Noailles, not far from the Château, having now - finished haranguing, sits with his Officers consulting: at five o’clock - the unanimous best counsel is, that a man so tost and toiled for - twenty-four hours and more, fling himself on a bed, and seek some rest. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus, then, has ended the First Act of the Insurrection of Women. How it - will turn on the morrow? The morrow, as always, is with the Fates! But - his Majesty, one may hope, will consent to come honourably to Paris; at - all events, he can visit Paris. Anti-national Bodyguards, here and - elsewhere, must take the National Oath; make reparation to the Tricolor; - Flandre will swear. There may be much swearing; much public speaking - there will infallibly be: and so, with harangues and vows, may the matter - in some handsome way, wind itself up. - </p> - - <p> - Or, alas, may it not be all otherwise, unhandsome: the consent not - honourable, but extorted, ignominious? Boundless Chaos of Insurrection - presses slumbering round the Palace, like Ocean round a Diving-bell; and - may penetrate at any crevice. Let but that accumulated insurrectionary - mass find entrance! Like the infinite inburst of water; or say rather, of - inflammable, self-igniting fluid; for example, “turpentine-and-phosphorus - oil,”—fluid known to Spinola Santerre! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"></a> - Chapter 1.7.X.<br/> - The Grand Entries. - </h3> - - <p> - The dull dawn of a new morning, drizzly and chill, had but broken over - Versailles, when it pleased Destiny that a Bodyguard should look out of - window, on the right wing of the Château, to see what prospect there was - in Heaven and in Earth. Rascality male and female is prowling in view of - him. His fasting stomach is, with good cause, sour; he perhaps cannot - forbear a passing malison on them; least of all can he forbear answering - such. - </p> - - <p> - Ill words breed worse: till the worst word came; and then the ill deed. - Did the maledicent Bodyguard, getting (as was too inevitable) better - malediction than he gave, load his musketoon, and threaten to fire; and - actually fire? Were wise who wist! It stands asserted; to us not - credibly. Be this as it may, menaced Rascality, in whinnying scorn, is - shaking at all Grates: the fastening of one (some write, it was a chain - merely) gives way; Rascality is in the Grand Court, whinnying louder - still. - </p> - - <p> - The maledicent Bodyguard, more Bodyguards than he do now give fire; a - man’s arm is shattered. Lecointre will depose<a href="#linknote-251" - name="linknoteref-251" id="linknoteref-251">[251]</a> that “the Sieur - Cardaine, a National Guard without arms, was stabbed.” But see, sure - enough, poor Jerôme l’Héritier, an unarmed National Guard he too, - “cabinet-maker, a saddler’s son, of Paris,” with the down of youthhood - still on his chin,—he reels death-stricken; rushes to the pavement, - scattering it with his blood and brains!—Allelew! Wilder than Irish - wakes, rises the howl: of pity; of infinite revenge. In few moments, the - Grate of the inner and inmost Court, which they name Court of Marble, - this too is forced, or surprised, and burst open: the Court of Marble too - is overflowed: up the Grand Staircase, up all stairs and entrances rushes - the living Deluge! Deshuttes and Varigny, the two sentry Bodyguards, are - trodden down, are massacred with a hundred pikes. Women snatch their - cutlasses, or any weapon, and storm-in Menadic:—other women lift - the corpse of shot Jerôme; lay it down on the Marble steps; there shall - the livid face and smashed head, dumb for ever, <i>speak</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Wo now to all Bodyguards, mercy is none for them! Miomandre de - Sainte-Marie pleads with soft words, on the Grand Staircase, “descending - four steps:”—to the roaring tornado. His comrades snatch him up, by - the skirts and belts; literally, from the jaws of Destruction; and - slam-to their Door. This also will stand few instants; the panels - shivering in, like potsherds. Barricading serves not: fly fast, ye - Bodyguards; rabid Insurrection, like the hellhound Chase, uproaring at - your heels! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The terrorstruck Bodyguards fly, bolting and barricading; it follows. - Whitherward? Through hall on hall: wo, now! towards the Queen’s Suite of - Rooms, in the furtherest room of which the Queen is now asleep. Five - sentinels rush through that long Suite; they are in the Anteroom knocking - loud: ‘Save the Queen!’ Trembling women fall at their feet with tears; - are answered: ‘Yes, we will die; save ye the Queen!’ - </p> - - <p> - Tremble not, women, but haste: for, lo, another voice shouts far through - the outermost door, ‘Save the Queen!’ and the door shut. It is brave - Miomandre’s voice that shouts this second warning. He has stormed across - imminent death to do it; fronts imminent death, having done it. Brave - Tardivet du Repaire, bent on the same desperate service, was borne down - with pikes; his comrades hardly snatched him in again alive. Miomandre - and Tardivet: let the names of these two Bodyguards, as the names of - brave men should, live long. - </p> - - <p> - Trembling Maids of Honour, one of whom from afar caught glimpse of - Miomandre as well as heard him, hastily wrap the Queen; not in robes of - State. She flies for her life, across the Œil-de-Bœuf; against the main - door of which too Insurrection batters. She is in the King’s Apartment, - in the King’s arms; she clasps her children amid a faithful few. The - Imperial-hearted bursts into mother’s tears: ‘O my friends, save me and - my children, <i>O mes amis, sauvez moi et mes enfans!</i>’ The battering - of Insurrectionary axes clangs audible across the Œil-de-Bœuf. What an - hour! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Yes, Friends: a hideous fearful hour; shameful alike to Governed and - Governor; wherein Governed and Governor ignominiously testify that their - relation is at an end. Rage, which had brewed itself in twenty thousand - hearts, for the last four-and-twenty hours, has taken fire: Jerome’s - brained corpse lies there as live-coal. It is, as we said, the infinite - Element bursting in: wild-surging through all corridors and conduits. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, the poor Bodyguards have got hunted mostly into the - Œil-de-Bœuf. They may die there, at the King’s threshhold; they can do - little to defend it. They are heaping <i>tabourets</i> (stools of - honour), benches and all moveables, against the door; at which the axe of - Insurrection thunders.—But did brave Miomandre perish, then, at the - Queen’s door? No, he was fractured, slashed, lacerated, left for dead; he - has nevertheless crawled hither; and shall live, honoured of loyal - France. Remark also, in flat contradiction to much which has been said - and sung, that Insurrection did <i>not</i> burst that door he had - defended; but hurried elsewhither, seeking new bodyguards.<a - href="#linknote-252" name="linknoteref-252" - id="linknoteref-252">[252]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Poor Bodyguards, with their Thyestes’ Opera-Repast! Well for them, that - Insurrection has only pikes and axes; no right sieging tools! It shakes - and thunders. Must they all perish miserably, and Royalty with them? - Deshuttes and Varigny, massacred at the first inbreak, have been beheaded - in the Marble Court: a sacrifice to Jerôme’s <i>manes:</i> Jourdan with - the tile-beard did that duty willingly; and asked, If there were no more? - Another captive they are leading round the corpse, with howl-chauntings: - may not Jourdan again tuck up his sleeves? - </p> - - <p> - And louder and louder rages Insurrection within, plundering if it cannot - kill; louder and louder it thunders at the Œil-de-Bœuf: what can now - hinder its bursting in?—On a sudden it ceases; the battering has - ceased! Wild rushing: the cries grow fainter: there is silence, or the - tramp of regular steps; then a friendly knocking: ‘We are the Centre - Grenadiers, old Gardes Françaises: Open to us, Messieurs of the - Garde-du-Corps; we have not forgotten how you saved us at Fontenoy!’<a - href="#linknote-253" name="linknoteref-253" - id="linknoteref-253">[253]</a> The door is opened; enter Captain Gondran - and the Centre Grenadiers: there are military embracings; there is sudden - deliverance from death into life. - </p> - - <p> - Strange Sons of Adam! It was to “exterminate” these Gardes-du-Corps that - the Centre Grenadiers left home: and now they have rushed to save them - from extermination. The memory of common peril, of old help, melts the - rough heart; bosom is clasped to bosom, not in war. The King shews - himself, one moment, through the door of his Apartment, with: ‘Do not - hurt my Guards!’—‘<i>Soyons frères</i>, Let us be brothers!’ cries - Captain Gondran; and again dashes off, with levelled bayonets, to sweep - the Palace clear. - </p> - - <p> - Now too Lafayette, suddenly roused, not from sleep (for his eyes had not - yet closed), arrives; with passionate popular eloquence, with prompt - military word of command. National Guards, suddenly roused, by sound of - trumpet and alarm-drum, are all arriving. The death-melly ceases: the - first sky-lambent blaze of Insurrection is got damped down; it burns now, - if unextinguished, yet flameless, as charred coals do, and not - inextinguishable. The King’s Apartments are safe. Ministers, Officials, - and even some loyal National deputies are assembling round their - Majesties. The consternation will, with sobs and confusion, settle down - gradually, into plan and counsel, better or worse. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But glance now, for a moment, from the royal windows! A roaring sea of - human heads, inundating both Courts; billowing against all passages: - Menadic women; infuriated men, mad with revenge, with love of mischief, - love of plunder! Rascality has slipped its muzzle; and now bays, - three-throated, like the Dog of Erebus. Fourteen Bodyguards are wounded; - two massacred, and as we saw, beheaded; Jourdan asking, ‘Was it worth - while to come so far for two?’ Hapless Deshuttes and Varigny! Their fate - surely was sad. Whirled down so suddenly to the abyss; as men are, - suddenly, by the wide thunder of the Mountain Avalanche, awakened not by - <i>them</i>, awakened far off by others! When the Château Clock last - struck, they two were pacing languid, with poised musketoon; anxious - mainly that the next hour would strike. It has struck; to them inaudible. - Their trunks lie mangled: their heads parade, “on pikes twelve feet - long,” through the streets of Versailles; and shall, about noon reach the - Barriers of Paris,—a too ghastly contradiction to the large - comfortable Placards that have been posted there! - </p> - - <p> - The other captive Bodyguard is still circling the corpse of Jerome, amid - Indian war-whooping; bloody Tilebeard, with tucked sleeves, brandishing - his bloody axe; when Gondran and the Grenadiers come in sight. ‘Comrades, - will you see a man massacred in cold blood?’—‘Off, butchers!’ - answer they; and the poor Bodyguard is free. Busy runs Gondran, busy run - Guards and Captains; scouring at all corridors; dispersing Rascality and - Robbery; sweeping the Palace clear. The mangled carnage is removed; - Jerome’s body to the Townhall, for inquest: the fire of Insurrection gets - damped, more and more, into measurable, manageable heat. - </p> - - <p> - Transcendent things of all sorts, as in the general outburst of - multitudinous Passion, are huddled together; the ludicrous, nay the - ridiculous, with the horrible. Far over the billowy sea of heads, may be - seen Rascality, caprioling on horses from the Royal Stud. The Spoilers - these; for Patriotism is always infected so, with a proportion of mere - thieves and scoundrels. Gondran snatched their prey from them in the - Château; whereupon they hurried to the Stables, and took horse there. But - the generous Diomedes’ steeds, according to Weber, disdained such - scoundrel-burden; and, flinging up their royal heels, did soon project - most of it, in parabolic curves, to a distance, amid peals of laughter: - and were caught. Mounted National Guards secured the rest. - </p> - - <p> - Now too is witnessed the touching last-flicker of Etiquette; which sinks - not here, in the Cimmerian World-wreckage, without a sign, as the - house-cricket might still chirp in the pealing of a Trump of Doom. - ‘Monsieur,’ said some Master of Ceremonies (one hopes it might be de - Brézé), as Lafayette, in these fearful moments, was rushing towards the - inner Royal Apartments, ‘<i>Monsieur, le Roi vous accorde les grandes - entrées</i>, Monsieur, the King grants you the Grand Entries,’—not - finding it convenient to refuse them!<a href="#linknote-254" - name="linknoteref-254" id="linknoteref-254">[254]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"></a> - Chapter 1.7.XI.<br/> - From Versailles. - </h3> - - <p> - However, the Paris National Guard, wholly under arms, has cleared the - Palace, and even occupies the nearer external spaces; extruding - miscellaneous Patriotism, for most part, into the Grand Court, or even - into the Forecourt. - </p> - - <p> - The Bodyguards, you can observe, have now of a verity, “hoisted the - National Cockade:” for they step forward to the windows or balconies, hat - aloft in hand, on each hat a huge tricolor; and fling over their - bandoleers in sign of surrender; and shout <i>Vive la Nation</i>. To - which how can the generous heart respond but with, <i>Vive le Roi; vivent - les Gardes-du-Corps?</i> His Majesty himself has appeared with Lafayette - on the balcony, and again appears: <i>Vive le Roi</i> greets him from all - throats; but also from some one throat is heard ‘<i>Le Roi à Paris</i>, - The King to Paris!’ - </p> - - <p> - Her Majesty too, on demand, shows herself, though there is peril in it: - she steps out on the balcony, with her little boy and girl. ‘No children, - <i>Point d’enfans!</i>’ cry the voices. She gently pushes back her - children; and stands alone, her hands serenely crossed on her breast: - ‘should I die,’ she had said, ‘I will do it.’ Such serenity of heroism - has its effect. Lafayette, with ready wit, in his highflown chivalrous - way, takes that fair queenly hand; and reverently kneeling, kisses it: - thereupon the people do shout <i>Vive la Reine</i>. Nevertheless, poor - Weber “saw” (or even thought he saw; for hardly the third part of poor - Weber’s experiences, in such hysterical days, will stand scrutiny) “one - of these brigands level his musket at her Majesty,”—with or without - intention to shoot; for another of the brigands “angrily struck it down.” - </p> - - <p> - So that all, and the Queen herself, nay the very Captain of the - Bodyguards, have grown National! The very Captain of the Bodyguards steps - out now with Lafayette. On the hat of the repentant man is an enormous - tricolor; large as a soup-platter, or sun-flower; visible to the utmost - Forecourt. He takes the National Oath with a loud voice, elevating his - hat; at which sight all the army raise their bonnets on their bayonets, - with shouts. Sweet is reconcilement to the heart of man. Lafayette has - sworn Flandre; he swears the remaining Bodyguards, down in the Marble - Court; the people clasp them in their arms:—O, my brothers, why - would ye force us to slay you? Behold there is joy over you, as over - returning prodigal sons!—The poor Bodyguards, now National and - tricolor, exchange bonnets, exchange arms; there shall be peace and - fraternity. And still ‘<i>Vive le Roi;</i>’ and also ‘<i>Le Roi à - Paris</i>,’ not now from one throat, but from all throats as one, for it - is the heart’s wish of all mortals. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Yes, <i>The King to Paris:</i> what else? Ministers may consult, and - National Deputies wag their heads: but there is now no other possibility. - You have forced him to go willingly. ‘At one o’clock!’ Lafayette gives - audible assurance to that purpose; and universal Insurrection, with - immeasurable shout, and a discharge of all the firearms, clear and rusty, - great and small, that it has, returns him acceptance. What a sound; heard - for leagues: a doom peal!—That sound too rolls away, into the - Silence of Ages. And the Château of Versailles stands ever since vacant, - hushed still; its spacious Courts grassgrown, responsive to the hoe of - the weeder. Times and generations roll on, in their confused - Gulf-current; and buildings like builders have their destiny. - </p> - - <p> - Till one o’clock, then, there will be three parties, National Assembly, - National Rascality, National Royalty, all busy enough. Rascality - rejoices; women trim themselves with tricolor. Nay motherly Paris has - sent her Avengers sufficient “cartloads of loaves;” which are shouted - over, which are gratefully consumed. The Avengers, in return, are - searching for grain-stores; loading them in fifty waggons; that so a - National King, probable harbinger of all blessings, may be the evident - bringer of plenty, for one. - </p> - - <p> - And thus has Sansculottism made prisoner its King; <i>revoking</i> his - parole. The Monarchy has fallen; and not so much as honourably: no, - ignominiously; with struggle, indeed, oft repeated; but then with unwise - struggle; wasting its strength in fits and paroxysms; at every new - paroxysm, foiled more pitifully than before. Thus Broglie’s whiff of - grapeshot, which might have been something, has dwindled to the - pot-valour of an Opera Repast, and <i>O Richard, O mon Roi</i>. Which - again we shall see dwindle to a Favras’ Conspiracy, a thing to be settled - by the hanging of one Chevalier. - </p> - - <p> - Poor Monarchy! But what save foulest defeat can await that man, who - wills, and yet wills not? Apparently the King either has a right, - assertible as such to the death, before God and man; or else he has no - right. Apparently, the one or the other; could he but know which! May - Heaven pity him! Were Louis wise he would this day abdicate.—Is it - not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has been known - to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried it; and they - cut the rope.<a href="#linknote-255" name="linknoteref-255" - id="linknoteref-255">[255]</a> - </p> - - <p> - As for the National Assembly, which decrees this morning that it “is - inseparable from his Majesty,” and will follow him to Paris, there may - one thing be noted: its extreme want of bodily health. After the - Fourteenth of July there was a certain sickliness observable among - honourable Members; so many demanding passports, on account of infirm - health. But now, for these following days, there is a perfect murrian: - President Mounier, Lally Tollendal, Clermont Tonnere, and all - Constitutional Two-Chamber Royalists needing change of air; as most - No-Chamber Royalists had formerly done. - </p> - - <p> - For, in truth, it is the <i>second Emigration</i> this that has now come; - most extensive among Commons Deputies, Noblesse, Clergy: so that “to - Switzerland alone there go sixty thousand.” They will return in the day - of accounts! Yes, and have hot welcome.—But Emigration on - Emigration is the peculiarity of France. One Emigration follows another; - grounded on reasonable fear, unreasonable hope, largely also on childish - pet. The highflyers have gone first, now the lower flyers; and ever the - lower will go down to the crawlers. Whereby, however, cannot our National - Assembly so much the more commodiously make the Constitution; your - Two-Chamber Anglomaniacs being all safe, distant on foreign shores? Abbé - Maury is seized, and sent back again: he, tough as tanned leather, with - eloquent Captain Cazalès and some others, will stand it out for another - year. - </p> - - <p> - But here, meanwhile, the question arises: Was Philippe d’Orléans seen, - this day, “in the Bois de Boulogne, in grey surtout;” waiting under the - wet sere foliage, what the day might bring forth? Alas, yes, the Eidolon - of him was,—in Weber’s and other such brains. The Chatelet shall - make large inquisition into the matter, examining a hundred and seventy - witnesses, and Deputy Chabroud publish his Report; but disclose nothing - <i>farther</i>.<a href="#linknote-256" name="linknoteref-256" - id="linknoteref-256">[256]</a> What then has caused these two - unparalleled October Days? For surely such dramatic exhibition never yet - enacted itself without Dramatist and Machinist. Wooden Punch emerges not, - with his domestic sorrows, into the light of day, unless the wire be - pulled: how can human mobs? Was it not d’Orléans then, and Laclos, - Marquis Sillery, Mirabeau and the sons of confusion, hoping to drive the - King to Metz, and gather the spoil? Nay was it not, quite contrariwise, - the Œil-de-Bœuf, Bodyguard Colonel de Guiche, Minister Saint-Priest and - highflying Loyalists; hoping also to drive him to Metz; and try it by the - sword of civil war? Good Marquis Toulongeon, the Historian and Deputy, - feels constrained to admit that it was <i>both</i>.<a - href="#linknote-257" name="linknoteref-257" - id="linknoteref-257">[257]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Alas, my Friends, credulous incredulity is a strange matter. But when a - whole Nation is smitten with Suspicion, and sees a dramatic miracle in - the very operation of the gastric juices, what help is there? Such Nation - is already a mere hypochondriac bundle of diseases; as good as changed - into glass; atrabiliar, decadent; and will suffer crises. Is not - Suspicion itself the one thing to be suspected, as Montaigne feared only - fear? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Now, however, the short hour has struck. His Majesty is in his carriage, - with his Queen, sister Elizabeth, and two royal children. Not for another - hour can the infinite Procession get marshalled, and under way. The - weather is dim drizzling; the mind confused; and noise great. - </p> - - <p> - Processional marches not a few our world has seen; Roman triumphs and - ovations, Cabiric cymbal-beatings, Royal progresses, Irish funerals: but - this of the French Monarchy marching to its bed remained to be seen. - Miles long, and of breadth losing itself in vagueness, for all the - neighbouring country crowds to see. Slow; stagnating along, like - shoreless Lake, yet with a noise like Niagara, like Babel and Bedlam. A - splashing and a tramping; a hurrahing, uproaring, - musket-volleying;—the truest segment of Chaos seen in these latter - Ages! Till slowly it disembogue itself, in the thickening dusk, into - expectant Paris, through a double row of faces all the way from Passy to - the Hôtel-de-Ville. - </p> - - <p> - Consider this: Vanguard of National troops; with trains of artillery; of - pikemen and pikewomen, mounted on cannons, on carts, hackney-coaches, or - on foot;—tripudiating, in tricolor ribbons from head to heel; - loaves stuck on the points of bayonets, green boughs stuck in gun - barrels.<a href="#linknote-258" name="linknoteref-258" - id="linknoteref-258">[258]</a> Next, as main-march, “fifty cartloads of - corn,” which have been lent, for peace, from the stores of Versailles. - Behind which follow stragglers of the Garde-du-Corps; all humiliated, in - Grenadier bonnets. Close on these comes the Royal Carriage; come Royal - Carriages: for there are an Hundred National Deputies too, among whom - sits Mirabeau,—his remarks not given. Then finally, pellmell, as - rearguard, Flandre, Swiss, Hundred Swiss, other Bodyguards, Brigands, - whosoever cannot get before. Between and among all which masses, flows - without limit Saint-Antoine, and the Menadic Cohort. Menadic especially - about the Royal Carriage; tripudiating there, covered with tricolor; - singing “allusive songs;” pointing with one hand to the Royal Carriage, - which the illusions hit, and pointing to the Provision-wagons, with the - other hand, and these words: ‘Courage, Friends! We shall not want bread - now; we are bringing you the Baker, the Bakeress, and Baker’s Boy (<i>le - Boulanger, la Boulangère, et le petit Mitron</i>).’<a - href="#linknote-259" name="linknoteref-259" - id="linknoteref-259">[259]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The wet day draggles the tricolor, but the joy is unextinguishable. Is - not all well now? ‘<i>Ah, Madame, notre bonne Reine</i>,’ said some of - these Strong-women some days hence, ‘Ah Madame, our good Queen, don’t be - a traitor any more (<i>ne soyez plus traître</i>), and we will all love - you!’ Poor Weber went splashing along, close by the Royal carriage, with - the tear in his eye: “their Majesties did me the honour,” or I thought - they did it, “to testify, from time to time, by shrugging of the - shoulders, by looks directed to Heaven, the emotions they felt.” Thus, - like frail cockle, floats the Royal Life-boat, helmless, on black deluges - of Rascality. - </p> - - <p> - Mercier, in his loose way, estimates the Procession and assistants at two - hundred thousand. He says it was one boundless inarticulate - Haha;—<i>transcendent</i> World-Laughter; comparable to the - Saturnalia of the Ancients. Why not? Here too, as we said, is Human - Nature once more human; shudder at it whoso is of shuddering humour: yet - behold it is human. It has “swallowed all formulas;” it tripudiates even - so. For which reason they that collect Vases and Antiques, with figures - of Dancing Bacchantes “in wild and all but impossible positions,” may - look with some interest on it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus, however, has the slow-moving Chaos or modern Saturnalia of the - Ancients, reached the Barrier; and must halt, to be harangued by Mayor - Bailly. Thereafter it has to lumber along, between the double row of - faces, in the transcendent heaven-lashing Haha; two hours longer, towards - the Hôtel-de-Ville. Then again to be harangued there, by several persons; - by Moreau de Saint-Méry, among others; Moreau of the Three-thousand - orders, now National Deputy for St. Domingo. To all which poor Louis, who - seemed to “experience a slight emotion” on entering this Townhall, can - answer only that he ‘comes with pleasure, with confidence among his - people.’ Mayor Bailly, in reporting it, forgets “confidence;” and the - poor Queen says eagerly: ‘Add, with confidence.’—‘Messieurs,’ - rejoins Bailly, ‘You are happier than if I had not forgot.’ - </p> - - <p> - Finally, the King is shewn on an upper balcony, by torchlight, with a - huge tricolor in his hat: “And all the ‘people,’ says Weber, grasped one - another’s hands;—thinking <i>now</i> surely the New Era was born.” - Hardly till eleven at night can Royalty get to its vacant, long-deserted - Palace of the Tuileries: to lodge there, somewhat in strolling-player - fashion. It is Tuesday, the sixth of October, 1789. - </p> - - <p> - Poor Louis has Two other Paris Processions to make: one - ludicrous-ignominious like this; the other not ludicrous nor ignominious, - but serious, nay sublime. - - </p> <h5> END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. </h5> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h2><a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"></a> - VOLUME II.<br/> - THE CONSTITUTION - </h2> - -<p class="poem"> -Mauern seh ich’ gestürzt, und Mauern seh’ ich errichtet<br/> - Hier Gefangene, dort auch der Gefangenen viel.<br/> -Ist vielleicht nur die Welt ein grosser Kerker? Und frei ist<br/> - Wohl der Tolle, der sich Ketten zu Kränzen erkiest?<br/> -</p> - -<p class="right"> GOETHE. </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"></a> - BOOK 2.I.<br/> - THE FEAST OF PIKES - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"></a> - Chapter 2.1.I.<br/> - In the Tuileries. - </h3> - - <p> - The victim having once got his stroke-of-grace, the catastrophe can be - considered as almost come. There is small interest now in watching his - long low moans: notable only are his sharper agonies, what convulsive - struggles he may take to cast the torture off from him; and then finally - the last departure of life itself, and how he lies extinct and ended, - either wrapt like Cæsar in decorous mantle-folds, or unseemly sunk - together, like one that had not the force even to die. - </p> - - <p> - Was French Royalty, when wrenched forth from its tapestries in that - fashion, on that Sixth of October 1789, such a victim? Universal France, - and Royal Proclamation to all the Provinces, answers anxiously, - <i>No.</i> Nevertheless one may fear the worst. Royalty was beforehand so - decrepit, moribund, there is little life in it to heal an injury. How - much of its strength, which was of the imagination merely, has fled; - Rascality having looked plainly in the King’s face, and not died! When - the assembled crows can pluck up their scarecrow, and say to it, Here - shalt thou stand and not there; and can treat with it, and make it, from - an infinite, a quite finite Constitutional scarecrow,—what is to be - looked for? Not in the finite Constitutional scarecrow, but in what still - unmeasured, infinite-seeming force may rally round it, is there - thenceforth any hope. For it is most true that all available Authority is - <i>mystic</i> in its conditions, and comes “by the grace of God.” - </p> - - <p> - Cheerfuller than watching the death-struggles of Royalism will it be to - watch the growth and gambollings of Sansculottism; for, in human things, - especially in human society, all death is but a death-birth: thus if the - sceptre is departing from Louis, it is only that, in other forms, other - sceptres, were it even pike-sceptres, may bear sway. In a prurient - element, rich with nutritive influences, we shall find that Sansculottism - grows lustily, and even frisks in not ungraceful sport: as indeed most - young creatures are sportful; nay, may it not be noted further, that as - the grown cat, and cat-species generally, is the cruellest thing known, - so the merriest is precisely the kitten, or growing cat? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But fancy the Royal Family risen from its truckle-beds on the morrow of - that mad day: fancy the Municipal inquiry, ‘How would your Majesty please - to lodge?’—and then that the King’s rough answer, ‘Each may lodge - as he can, I am well enough,’ is congeed and bowed away, in expressive - grins, by the Townhall Functionaries, with obsequious upholsterers at - their back; and how the Château of the Tuileries is repainted, - regarnished into a golden Royal Residence; and Lafayette with his blue - National Guards lies encompassing it, as blue Neptune (in the language of - poets) does an island, wooingly. Thither may the wrecks of rehabilitated - Loyalty gather; if it will become Constitutional; for Constitutionalism - thinks no evil; Sansculottism itself rejoices in the King’s countenance. - The rubbish of a Menadic Insurrection, as in this ever-kindly world all - rubbish can and must be, is swept aside; and so again, on clear arena, - under new conditions, with something even of a new stateliness, we begin - a new course of action. - </p> - - <p> - Arthur Young has witnessed the strangest scene: Majesty walking - unattended in the Tuileries Gardens; and miscellaneous tricolor crowds, - who cheer it, and reverently make way for it: the very Queen commands at - lowest respectful silence, regretful avoidance.<a href="#linknote-260" - name="linknoteref-260" id="linknoteref-260">[260]</a> Simple ducks, in - those royal waters, quackle for crumbs from young royal fingers: the - little Dauphin has a little railed garden, where he is seen delving, with - ruddy cheeks and flaxen curled hair; also a little hutch to put his tools - in, and screen himself against showers. What peaceable simplicity! Is it - peace of a Father restored to his children? Or of a Taskmaster who has - lost his whip? Lafayette and the Municipality and universal - Constitutionalism assert the former, and do what is in them to realise - it. Such Patriotism as snarls dangerously, and shows teeth, Patrollotism - shall suppress; or far better, Royalty shall soothe down the angry hair - of it, by gentle pattings; and, most effectual of all, by fuller diet. - Yes, not only shall Paris be fed, but the King’s hand be seen in that - work. The household goods of the Poor shall, up to a certain amount, by - royal bounty, be disengaged from pawn, and that insatiable <i>Mont de - Piété</i> disgorge: rides in the city with their <i>Vive-le-Roi</i> need - not fail; and so by substance and show, shall Royalty, if man’s art can - popularise it, be popularised.<a href="#linknote-261" - name="linknoteref-261" id="linknoteref-261">[261]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or, alas, is it neither restored Father nor diswhipped Taskmaster that - walks there; but an anomalous complex of both these, and of innumerable - other heterogeneities; reducible to no rubric, if not to this newly - devised one: <i>King Louis Restorer of French Liberty?</i> Man indeed, - and King Louis like other men, lives in this world to make rule out of - the ruleless; by his living energy, he shall force the absurd itself to - become less absurd. But then if there <i>be</i> no living energy; living - passivity only? King Serpent, hurled into his unexpected watery dominion, - did at least bite, and assert credibly that he was there: but as for the - poor King Log, tumbled hither and thither as thousandfold chance and - other will than his might direct, how happy for him that he was indeed - wooden; and, doing nothing, could also see and suffer nothing! It is a - distracted business. - </p> - - <p> - For his French Majesty, meanwhile, one of the worst things is that he can - get no hunting. Alas, no hunting henceforth; only a fatal being-hunted! - Scarcely, in the next June weeks, shall he taste again the joys of the - game-destroyer; in next June, and never more. He sends for his - smith-tools; gives, in the course of the day, official or ceremonial - business being ended, “a few strokes of the file, <i>quelques coups de - lime.</i><a href="#linknote-262" name="linknoteref-262" - id="linknoteref-262">[262]</a> Innocent brother mortal, why wert thou not - an obscure substantial maker of locks; but doomed in that other far-seen - craft, to be a maker only of world-follies, unrealities; things self - destructive, which no mortal hammering could rivet into coherence! - </p> - - <p> - Poor Louis is not without insight, nor even without the elements of will; - some sharpness of temper, spurting at times from a stagnating character. - If harmless inertness could save him, it were well; but he will slumber - and painfully dream, and to <i>do</i> aught is not given him. Royalist - Antiquarians still shew the rooms where Majesty and suite, in these - extraordinary circumstances, had their lodging. Here sat the Queen; - reading,—for she had her library brought hither, though the King - refused his; taking vehement counsel of the vehement uncounselled; - sorrowing over altered times; yet with sure hope of better: in her young - rosy Boy, has she not the living emblem of hope! It is a murky, working - sky; yet with golden gleams—of dawn, or of deeper meteoric night? - Here again this chamber, on the other side of the main entrance, was the - King’s: here his Majesty breakfasted, and did official work; here daily - after breakfast he received the Queen; sometimes in pathetic - friendliness; sometimes in human sulkiness, for flesh is weak; and, when - questioned about business would answer: ‘Madame, your business is with - the children.’ Nay, Sire, were it not better you, your Majesty’s self, - took the children? So asks impartial History; scornful that the - <i>thicker</i> vessel was not also the stronger; pity-struck for the - porcelain-clay of humanity rather than for the tile-clay,—though - indeed <i>both</i> were broken! - </p> - - <p> - So, however, in this Medicean Tuileries, shall the French King and Queen - now sit, for one-and-forty months; and see a wild-fermenting France work - out its own destiny, and theirs. Months bleak, ungenial, of rapid - vicissitude; yet with a mild pale splendour, here and there: as of an - April that were leading to leafiest Summer; as of an October that led - only to everlasting Frost. Medicean Tuileries, how changed since it was a - peaceful Tile field! Or is the ground itself fate-stricken, accursed: an - Atreus’ Palace; for that Louvre window is still nigh, out of which a - Capet, whipt of the Furies, fired his signal of the Saint Bartholomew! - Dark is the way of the Eternal as mirrored in this world of Time: God’s - way is in the sea, and His path in the great deep. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"></a> - Chapter 2.1.II.<br/> - In the Salle de Manége. - </h3> - - <p> - To believing Patriots, however, it is now clear, that the Constitution - will march, <i>marcher</i>,—had it once legs to stand on. Quick, - then, ye Patriots, bestir yourselves, and make it; shape legs for it! In - the <i>Archevêché</i>, or Archbishop’s Palace, his Grace himself having - fled; and afterwards in the Riding-hall, named Manege, close on the - Tuileries: there does a National Assembly apply itself to the miraculous - work. Successfully, had there been any heaven-scaling Prometheus among - them; not successfully since there was none! There, in noisy debate, for - the sessions are occasionally “scandalous,” and as many as three speakers - have been seen in the Tribune at once,—let us continue to fancy it - wearing the slow months. - </p> - - <p> - Tough, dogmatic, long of wind is Abbé Maury; Ciceronian pathetic is - Cazalès. Keen-trenchant, on the other side, glitters a young Barnave; - abhorrent of sophistry; sheering, like keen Damascus sabre, all sophistry - asunder,—reckless what else he sheer with it. Simple seemest thou, - O solid Dutch-built Pétion; if solid, surely dull. Nor lifegiving in that - tone of thine, livelier polemical Rabaut. With ineffable serenity sniffs - great Sieyes, aloft, alone; his Constitution ye may babble over, ye may - mar, but can by no possibility mend: is not Polity a science he has - exhausted? Cool, slow, two military Lameths are visible, with their - quality sneer, or demi-sneer; they shall gallantly refund their Mother’s - Pension, when the Red Book is produced; gallantly be wounded in duels. A - Marquis Toulongeon, whose Pen we yet thank, sits there; in stoical - meditative humour, oftenest silent, accepts what destiny will send. - Thouret and Parlementary Duport produce mountains of Reformed Law; - liberal, Anglomaniac, available and unavailable. Mortals rise and fall. - Shall goose Gobel, for example,—or Go(with an umlaut)bel, for he is - of Strasburg German breed, be a Constitutional Archbishop? - </p> - - <p> - Alone of all men there, Mirabeau may begin to discern clearly whither all - this is tending. Patriotism, accordingly, regrets that his zeal seems to - be getting cool. In that famed Pentecost-Night of the Fourth of August, - when new Faith rose suddenly into miraculous fire, and old Feudality was - burnt up, men remarked that Mirabeau took no hand in it; that, in fact, - he luckily happened to be absent. But did he not defend the <i>Veto</i>, - nay <i>Veto Absolu;</i> and tell vehement Barnave that six hundred - irresponsible senators would make of all tyrannies the insupportablest? - Again, how anxious was he that the King’s Ministers should have seat and - voice in the National Assembly;—doubtless with an eye to being - Minister himself! Whereupon the National Assembly decides, what is very - momentous, that no Deputy shall be Minister; he, in his haughty stormful - manner, advising us to make it, “no Deputy called Mirabeau.”<a - href="#linknote-263" name="linknoteref-263" - id="linknoteref-263">[263]</a> A man of perhaps inveterate Feudalisms; of - stratagems; too often visible leanings towards the Royalist side: a man - suspect; whom Patriotism will unmask! Thus, in these June days, when the - question <i>Who shall have right to declare war?</i> comes on, you hear - hoarse Hawkers sound dolefully through the streets, ‘Grand Treason of - Count Mirabeau, price only one sou;’—because he pleads that it - shall be not the Assembly but the King! Pleads; nay prevails: for in - spite of the hoarse Hawkers, and an endless Populace raised by them to - the pitch even of “<i>Lanterne</i>,” he mounts the Tribune next day; - grim-resolute; murmuring aside to his friends that speak of danger: ‘I - know it: I must come hence either in triumph, or else torn in fragments;’ - and it was in triumph that he came. - </p> - - <p> - A man of stout heart; whose popularity is not of the populace, “<i>pas - populacière;</i>” whom no clamour of unwashed mobs without doors, or of - washed mobs within, can scarce from his way! Dumont remembers hearing him - deliver a Report on Marseilles; “every word was interrupted on the part - of the <i>Côté Droit</i> by abusive epithets; calumniator, liar, - assassin, scoundrel (<i>scélérat</i>): Mirabeau pauses a moment, and, in - a honeyed tone, addressing the most furious, says: ‘I wait, Messieurs, - till these amenities be exhausted.’”<a href="#linknote-264" - name="linknoteref-264" id="linknoteref-264">[264]</a> A man enigmatic, - difficult to unmask! For example, whence comes his money? Can the profit - of a Newspaper, sorely eaten into by Dame Le Jay; can this, and the - eighteen francs a-day your National Deputy has, be supposed equal to this - expenditure? House in the Chaussée d’Antin; Country-house at Argenteuil; - splendours, sumptuosities, orgies;—living as if he had a mint! All - saloons barred against Adventurer Mirabeau, are flung wide open to King - Mirabeau, the cynosure of Europe, whom female France flutters to - behold,—though the Man Mirabeau is one and the same. As for money, - one may conjecture that Royalism furnishes it; which if Royalism do, will - not the same be welcome, as money always is to him? - </p> - - <p> - “Sold,” whatever Patriotism thinks, he cannot readily be: the spiritual - fire which is in that man; which shining through such confusions is - nevertheless Conviction, and makes him strong, and without which he had - no strength,—is not buyable nor saleable; in such transference of - barter, it would vanish and not <i>be</i>. Perhaps “paid and not sold, - <i>payé pas vendu:</i>” as poor Rivarol, in the unhappier converse way, - calls himself “sold and not paid!” A man travelling, comet-like, in - splendour and nebulosity, his wild way; whom telescopic Patriotism may - long watch, but, without higher mathematics, will not make out. A - questionable most blameable man; yet to us the far notablest of all. With - rich munificence, as we often say, in a most blinkard, bespectacled, - logic-chopping generation, Nature has gifted this man with an eye. - Welcome is his word, there where he speaks and works; and growing ever - welcomer; for it alone goes to the heart of the business: logical - cobwebbery shrinks itself together; and thou seest a <i>thing</i>, how it - is, how is may be worked with. - </p> - - <p> - Unhappily our National Assembly has much to do: a France to regenerate; - and France is short of so many requisites; short even of cash! These same - Finances give trouble enough; no choking of the Deficit; which gapes - ever, <i>Give, give!</i> To appease the Deficit we venture on a hazardous - step, sale of the Clergy’s Lands and superfluous Edifices; most - hazardous. Nay, given the sale, who is to buy them, ready-money having - fled? Wherefore, on the 19th day of December, a paper-money of - “<i>Assignats</i>,” of Bonds secured, or <i>assigned</i>, on that - Clerico-National Property, and unquestionable at least in payment of - that,—is decreed: the first of a long series of like financial - performances, which shall astonish mankind. So that now, while old rags - last, there shall be no lack of circulating medium; whether of - commodities to circulate thereon is another question. But, after all, - does not this Assignat business speak volumes for modern science? - Bankruptcy, we may say, was come, as the <i>end</i> of all Delusions - needs must come: yet how gently, in softening diffusion, in mild - succession, was it hereby made to fall;—like no all-destroying - avalanche; like gentle showers of a powdery impalpable snow, shower after - shower, till all was indeed buried, and yet little was destroyed that - could not be replaced, be dispensed with! To such length has modern - machinery reached. Bankruptcy, we said, was great; but indeed Money - itself is a standing miracle. - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, it is a matter of endless difficulty, that of the Clergy. - Clerical property may be made the Nation’s, and the Clergy hired servants - of the State; but if so, is it not an altered Church? Adjustment enough, - of the most confused sort, has become unavoidable. Old landmarks, in any - sense, avail not in a new France. Nay literally, the very Ground is new - divided; your old party-coloured <i>Provinces</i> become new uniform - <i>Departments</i>, Eighty-three in number;—whereby, as in some - sudden shifting of the Earth’s axis, no mortal knows his new latitude at - once. The Twelve old Parlements too, what is to be done with them? The - old Parlements are declared to be all “in permanent vacation,”—till - once the new equal-justice, of Departmental Courts, National - Appeal-Court, of elective Justices, Justices of Peace, and other - Thouret-and-Duport apparatus be got ready. They have to sit there, these - old Parlements, uneasily waiting; as it were, with the rope round their - neck; crying as they can, <i>Is there none to deliver us?</i> But happily - the answer being, <i>None, none</i>, they are a manageable class, these - Parlements. They can be bullied, even into silence; the Paris Parliament, - wiser than most, has never whimpered. They will and must sit there; in - such vacation as is fit; their Chamber of Vacation distributes in the - interim what little justice is going. With the rope round their neck, - their destiny may be succinct! On the 13th of November 1790, Mayor Bailly - shall walk to the Palais de Justice, few even heeding him; and with - municipal seal-stamp and a little hot wax, seal up the Parlementary - Paper-rooms,—and the dread Parlement of Paris pass away, into - Chaos, gently as does a Dream! So shall the Parlements perish, - succinctly; and innumerable eyes be dry. - </p> - - <p> - Not so the Clergy. For granting even that Religion were dead; that it had - died, half-centuries ago, with unutterable Dubois; or emigrated lately, - to Alsace, with Necklace-Cardinal Rohan; or that it now walked as goblin - <i>revenant</i> with Bishop Talleyrand of Autun; yet does not the Shadow - of Religion, the Cant of Religion, still linger? The Clergy have means - and material: means, of number, organization, social weight; a material, - at lowest, of public ignorance, known to be the mother of devotion. Nay, - withal, is it incredible that there might, in simple hearts, latent here - and there like gold grains in the mud-beach, still dwell some real Faith - in God, of so singular and tenacious a sort that even a Maury or a - Talleyrand, could still be the symbol for it?—Enough, and Clergy - has strength, the Clergy has craft and indignation. It is a most fatal - business this of the Clergy. A weltering hydra-coil, which the National - Assembly has stirred up about its ears; hissing, stinging; which cannot - be appeased, alive; which cannot be trampled dead! Fatal, from first to - last! Scarcely after fifteen months’ debating, can a <i>Civil - Constitution of the Clergy</i> be so much as got to paper; and then for - getting it into reality? Alas, such Civil Constitution is but an - agreement to disagree. It divides France from end to end, with a new - split, infinitely complicating all the other splits;—Catholicism, - what of it there is left, with the Cant of Catholicism, raging on the one - side, and sceptic Heathenism on the other; both, by contradiction , - waxing fanatic. What endless jarring, of Refractory hated Priests, and - Constitutional despised ones; of tender consciences, like the King’s, and - consciences hot-seared, like certain of his People’s: the whole to end in - Feasts of Reason and a War of La Vendée! So deep-seated is Religion in - the heart of man, and holds of all infinite passions. If the dead echo of - it still did so much, what could not the living voice of it once do? - </p> - - <p> - Finance and Constitution, Law and Gospel: this surely were work enough; - yet this is not all. In fact, the Ministry, and Necker himself whom a - brass inscription “fastened by the people over his door-lintel” testifies - to be the “<i>Ministre adoré</i>,” are dwindling into clearer and clearer - nullity. Execution or legislation, arrangement or detail, from their - nerveless fingers all drops undone; all lights at last on the toiled - shoulders of an august Representative Body. Heavy-laden National - Assembly! It has to hear of innumerable fresh revolts, Brigand - expeditions; of Châteaus in the West, especially of Charter-chests, - <i>Chartiers</i>, set on fire; for there too the overloaded Ass - frightfully recalcitrates. Of Cities in the South full of heats and - jealousies; which will end in crossed sabres, Marseilles against Toulon, - and Carpentras beleaguered by Avignon;—such Royalist collision in a - career of Freedom; nay Patriot collision, which a mere difference of - <i>velocity</i> will bring about! Of a Jourdan Coup-tete, who has skulked - thitherward, from the claws of the Chatelet; and will raise whole - scoundrel-regiments. - </p> - - <p> - Also it has to hear of Royalist <i>Camp of Jalès:</i> Jalès - mountain-girdled Plain, amid the rocks of the Cevennes; whence Royalism, - as is feared and hoped, may dash down like a mountain deluge, and - submerge France! A singular thing this camp of Jalès; existing mostly on - paper. For the Soldiers at Jalès, being peasants or National Guards, were - in heart sworn Sansculottes; and all that the Royalist Captains could do - was, with false words, to keep them, or rather keep the report of them, - drawn up there, visible to all imaginations, for a terror and a - sign,—if peradventure France might be reconquered by theatrical - machinery, by the <i>picture</i> of a Royalist Army done to the life!<a - href="#linknote-265" name="linknoteref-265" - id="linknoteref-265">[265]</a> Not till the third summer was this - portent, burning out by fits and then fading, got finally extinguished; - was the old Castle of Jalès, no Camp being visible to the bodily eye, got - blown asunder by some National Guards. - </p> - - <p> - Also it has to hear not only of Brissot and his <i>Friends of the - Blacks</i>, but by and by of a whole St. Domingo blazing skyward; blazing - in literal fire, and in far worse metaphorical; beaconing the nightly - main. Also of the shipping interest, and the landed-interest, and all - manner of interests, reduced to distress. Of Industry every where - manacled, bewildered; and only Rebellion thriving. Of sub-officers, - soldiers and sailors in mutiny by land and water. Of soldiers, at Nanci, - as we shall see, needing to be cannonaded by a brave Bouillé. Of sailors, - nay the very galley-slaves, at Brest, needing also to be cannonaded; but - with no Bouillé to do it. For indeed, to say it in a word, in those days - there was <i>no King</i> in Israel, and every man did that which was - right in his own eyes.<a href="#linknote-266" name="linknoteref-266" - id="linknoteref-266">[266]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such things has an august National Assembly to hear of, as it goes on - regenerating France. Sad and stern: but what remedy? Get the Constitution - ready; and all men will swear to it: for do not “Addresses of adhesion” - arrive by the cartload? In this manner, by Heaven’s blessing, and a - Constitution got ready, shall the bottomless fire-gulf be vaulted in, - with rag-paper; and Order will wed Freedom, and live with her - there,—till it grow too hot for them. <i>O Côté Gauche</i>, worthy - are ye, as the adhesive Addresses generally say, to “fix the regards of - the Universe;” the regards of this one poor Planet, at lowest!— - </p> - - <p> - Nay, it must be owned, the <i>Côté Droit</i> makes a still madder figure. - An irrational generation; irrational, imbecile, and with the vehement - obstinacy characteristic of that; a generation which will not learn. - Falling Bastilles, Insurrections of Women, thousands of smoking - Manorhouses, a country bristling with no crop but that of Sansculottic - steel: these were tolerably didactic lessons; but them they have not - taught. There are still men, of whom it was of old written, Bray them in - a mortar! Or, in milder language, They have <i>wedded</i> their - delusions: fire nor steel, nor any sharpness of Experience, shall sever - the bond; till death do us part! Of such may the Heavens have mercy; for - the Earth, with her rigorous Necessity, will have none. - </p> - - <p> - Admit, at the same time, that it was most natural. Man lives by Hope: - Pandora when her box of gods’-gifts flew all out, and became - gods’-curses, still retained Hope. How shall an irrational mortal, when - his high-place is never so evidently pulled down, and he, being - irrational, is left resourceless,—part with the belief that it will - be rebuilt? It would make all so straight again; it seems so unspeakably - desirable; so reasonable,—would you but look at it aright! For, - must not the thing which was continue to be; or else the solid World - dissolve? Yes, persist, O infatuated Sansculottes of France! Revolt - against constituted Authorities; hunt out your rightful Seigneurs, who at - bottom so loved you, and readily shed their blood for you,—in - country’s battles as at Rossbach and elsewhere; and, even in preserving - game, were preserving <i>you</i>, could ye but have understood it: hunt - them out, as if they were wild wolves; set fire to their Châteaus and - Chartiers as to wolf-dens; and what then? Why, then turn every man his - hand against his fellow! In confusion, famine, desolation, regret the - days that are gone; rueful recall them, recall us with them. To repentant - prayers we will not be deaf. - </p> - - <p> - So, with dimmer or clearer consciousness, must the Right Side reason and - act. An inevitable position perhaps; but a most false one for them. Evil, - be thou our good: this henceforth must virtually be their prayer. The - fiercer the effervescence grows, the sooner will it pass; for after all - it is but some mad effervescence; the World is solid, and cannot - dissolve. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, if they have any positive industry, it is that of plots, - and backstairs conclaves. Plots which cannot be executed; which are - mostly theoretic on their part;—for which nevertheless this and the - other practical Sieur Augeard, Sieur Maillebois, Sieur Bonne Savardin, - gets into trouble, gets imprisoned, and escapes with difficulty. Nay - there is a poor practical Chevalier Favras who, not without some passing - reflex on Monsieur himself, gets hanged for them, amid loud uproar of the - world. Poor Favras, he keeps dictating his last will at the - “Hôtel-de-Ville, through the whole remainder of the day,” a weary - February day; offers to reveal secrets, if they will save him; handsomely - declines since they will not; then dies, in the flare of torchlight, with - politest composure; remarking, rather than exclaiming, with outspread - hands: ‘People, I die innocent; pray for me.’<a href="#linknote-267" - name="linknoteref-267" id="linknoteref-267">[267]</a> Poor - Favras;—type of so much that has prowled indefatigable over France, - in days now ending; and, in freer field, might have <i>earned</i> instead - of prowling,—to thee it is no theory! - </p> - - <p> - In the Senate-house again, the attitude of the Right Side is that of calm - unbelief. Let an august National Assembly make a Fourth-of-August - Abolition of Feudality; declare the Clergy State-servants who shall have - wages; vote Suspensive Vetos, new Law-Courts; vote or decree what - contested thing it will; have it responded to from the four corners of - France, nay get King’s Sanction, and what other Acceptance were - conceivable,—the Right Side, as we find, persists, with - imperturbablest tenacity, in considering, and ever and anon shews that it - still considers, all these so-called Decrees as mere temporary whims, - which indeed stand on paper, but in practice and fact are not, and cannot - be. Figure the brass head of an Abbé Maury flooding forth Jesuitic - eloquence in this strain; dusky d’Espréménil, Barrel Mirabeau (probably - in liquor), and enough of others, cheering him from the Right; and, for - example, with what visage a seagreen Robespierre eyes him from the Left. - And how Sieyes ineffably sniffs on him, or does not deign to sniff; and - how the Galleries groan in spirit, or bark rabid on him: so that to - escape the Lanterne, on stepping forth, he needs presence of mind, and a - pair of pistols in his girdle! For he is one of the toughest of men. - </p> - - <p> - Here indeed becomes notable one great difference between our two kinds of - civil war; between the modern <i>lingual</i> or Parliamentary-logical - kind, and the ancient, or <i>manual</i> kind, in the steel - battle-field;—much to the disadvantage of the former. In the manual - kind, where you front your foe with drawn weapon, one right stroke is - final; for, physically speaking, when the brains are out the man does - honestly die, and trouble you no more. But how different when it is with - arguments you fight! Here no victory yet definable can be considered as - final. Beat him down, with Parliamentary invective, till sense be fled; - cut him in two, hanging one half in this dilemma-horn, the other on that; - blow the brains or thinking-faculty quite out of him for the time: it - skills not; he rallies and revives on the morrow; tomorrow he repairs his - golden fires! The think that <i>will</i> logically extinguish him is - perhaps still a desideratum in Constitutional civilisation. For how, till - a man know, in some measure, at what point he becomes logically defunct, - can Parliamentary Business be carried on, and Talk cease or slake? - </p> - - <p> - Doubtless it was some feeling of this difficulty; and the clear insight - how little such knowledge yet existed in the French Nation, new in the - Constitutional career, and how defunct Aristocrats would continue to walk - for unlimited periods, as Partridge the Alamanack-maker did,—that - had sunk into the deep mind of People’s-friend Marat, an eminently - practical mind; and had grown there, in that richest putrescent soil, - into the most original plan of action ever submitted to a People. Not yet - has it grown; but it has germinated, it is growing; rooting itself into - Tartarus, branching towards Heaven: the second season hence, we shall see - it risen out of the bottomless Darkness, full-grown, into disastrous - Twilight,—a Hemlock-tree, great as the world; on or under whose - boughs all the People’s-friends of the world may lodge. “Two hundred and - sixty thousand Aristocrat heads:” that is the precisest calculation, - though one would not stand on a few hundreds; yet we never rise as high - as the round three hundred thousand. Shudder at it, O People; but it is - as true as that ye yourselves, and your People’s-friend, are alive. These - prating Senators of yours hover ineffectual on the barren letter, and - will never save the Revolution. A Cassandra-Marat cannot do it, with his - single shrunk arm; but with a few determined men it were possible. ‘Give - me,’ said the People’s-friend, in his cold way, when young Barbaroux, - once his pupil in a course of what was called Optics, went to see him, - ‘Give me two hundred Naples Bravoes, armed each with a good dirk, and a - muff on his left arm by way of shield: with them I will traverse France, - and accomplish the Revolution.’<a href="#linknote-268" - name="linknoteref-268" id="linknoteref-268">[268]</a> Nay, be brave, - young Barbaroux; for thou seest, there is no jesting in those rheumy - eyes; in that soot-bleared figure, most earnest of created things; - neither indeed is there madness, of the strait-waistcoat sort. - </p> - - <p> - Such produce shall the Time ripen in cavernous Marat, the man forbid; - living in Paris cellars, lone as fanatic Anchorite in his Thebaid; say, - as far-seen Simon on his Pillar,—taking peculiar views therefrom. - Patriots may smile; and, using him as bandog now to be muzzled, now to be - let bark, name him, as Desmoulins does, “Maximum of Patriotism” and - “Cassandra-Marat:” but were it not singular if this dirk-and-muff plan of - his (with superficial modifications) proved to be precisely the plan - adopted? - </p> - - <p> - After this manner, in these circumstances, do august Senators regenerate - France. Nay, they are, in very deed, <i>believed</i> to be regenerating - it; on account of which great fact, main fact of their history, the - wearied eye can never be permitted wholly to ignore them. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But, looking away now from these precincts of the Tuileries, where - Constitutional Royalty, let Lafayette water it as he will, languishes too - like a cut branch; and august Senators are perhaps at bottom only - perfecting their “theory of defective verbs,”—how does the young - Reality, young Sansculottism thrive? The attentive observer can answer: - It thrives bravely; putting forth new buds; expanding the old buds into - leaves, into boughs. Is not French Existence, as before, most prurient, - all <i>loosened</i>, most nutrient for it? Sansculottism has the property - of growing by what other things die of: by agitation, contention, - disarrangement; nay in a word, by what is the symbol and fruit of all - these: Hunger. - </p> - - <p> - In such a France as this, Hunger, as we have remarked, can hardly fail. - The Provinces, the Southern Cities feel it in their turn; and what it - brings: Exasperation, preternatural Suspicion. In Paris some halcyon days - of abundance followed the Menadic Insurrection, with its Versailles - grain-carts, and recovered Restorer of Liberty; but they could not - continue. The month is still October when famishing Saint-Antoine, in a - moment of passion, seizes a poor Baker, innocent “François the Baker;”<a - href="#linknote-269" name="linknoteref-269" - id="linknoteref-269">[269]</a> and hangs him, in Constantinople - wise;—but even this, singular as it my seem, does not cheapen - bread! Too clear it is, no Royal bounty, no Municipal dexterity can - adequately feed a Bastille-destroying Paris. Wherefore, on view of the - hanged Baker, Constitutionalism in sorrow and anger demands “<i>Loi - Martiale</i>,” a kind of Riot Act;—and indeed gets it, most - readily, almost before the sun goes down. - </p> - - <p> - This is that famed <i>Martial law</i>, with its Red Flag, its “<i>Drapeau - Rouge:</i>” in virtue of which Mayor Bailly, or any Mayor, has but - henceforth to hang out that new <i>Oriflamme</i> of his; then to read or - mumble something about the King’s peace; and, after certain pauses, serve - any undispersing Assemblage with musket-shot, or whatever shot will - disperse it. A decisive Law; and most just on one proviso: that all - Patrollotism be of God, and all mob-assembling be of the - Devil;—otherwise not so just. Mayor Bailly be unwilling to use it! - Hang not out that new Oriflamme, <i>flame</i> not <i>of gold</i> but of - the want of gold! The thrice-blessed Revolution is <i>done</i>, thou - thinkest? If so it will be well with thee. - </p> - - <p> - But now let no mortal say henceforth that an august National Assembly - wants riot: all it ever wanted was riot enough to balance Court-plotting; - all it now wants, of Heaven or of Earth, is to get its theory of - defective verbs perfected. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"></a> - Chapter 2.1.III.<br/> - The Muster. - </h3> - - <p> - With famine and a Constitutional theory of defective verbs going on, all - other excitement is conceivable. A universal shaking and sifting of - French Existence this is: in the course of which, for one thing, what a - multitude of low-lying figures are sifted to the top, and set busily to - work there! - </p> - - <p> - Dogleech Marat, now for-seen as Simon Stylites, we already know; him and - others, raised aloft. The mere sample, these, of what is coming, of what - continues coming, upwards from the realm of Night!—Chaumette, by - and by Anaxagoras Chaumette, one already descries: mellifluous in - street-groups; not now a sea-boy on the high and giddy mast: a - mellifluous tribune of the common people, with long curling locks, on - <i>bourne</i>stone of the thoroughfares; able sub-editor too; who shall - rise—to the very gallows. Clerk Tallien, he also is become - sub-editor; shall become able editor; and more. Bibliopolic Momoro, - Typographic Pruhomme see new trades opening. Collot d’Herbois, tearing a - passion to rags, pauses on the Thespian boards; listens, with that black - bushy head, to the sound of the world’s drama: shall the Mimetic become - Real? Did ye hiss him, O men of Lyons?<a href="#linknote-270" - name="linknoteref-270" id="linknoteref-270">[270]</a> Better had ye - clapped! - </p> - - <p> - Happy now, indeed, for all manner of <i>mimetic</i>, half-original men! - Tumid blustering, with more or less of sincerity, which need not be - entirely sincere, yet the sincerer the better, is like to go far. Shall - we say, the Revolution-element works itself rarer and rarer; so that only - lighter and lighter bodies will float in it; till at last the mere - blown-bladder is your only swimmer? Limitation of mind, then vehemence, - promptitude, audacity, shall all be available; to which add only these - two: cunning and good lungs. Good fortune must be presupposed. - Accordingly, of all classes the rising one, we observe, is now the - Attorney class: witness Bazires, Carriers, Fouquier-Tinvilles, - Bazoche-Captain Bourdons: more than enough. Such figures shall Night, - from her wonder-bearing bosom, emit; swarm after swarm. Of another deeper - and deepest swarm, not yet dawned on the astonished eye; of pilfering - Candle-snuffers, Thief-valets, disfrocked Capuchins, and so many Héberts, - Henriots, Ronsins, Rossignols, let us, as long as possible, forbear - speaking. - </p> - - <p> - Thus, over France, all stirs that has what the Physiologists call - <i>irritability</i> in it: how much more all wherein irritability has - perfected itself into vitality; into actual vision, and force that can - will! All stirs; and if not in Paris, flocks thither. Great and greater - waxes President Danton in his Cordeliers Section; his rhetorical tropes - are all “gigantic:” energy flashes from his black brows, menaces in his - athletic figure, rolls in the sound of his voice “reverberating from the - domes;” this man also, like Mirabeau, has a natural <i>eye</i>, and - begins to see whither Constitutionalism is tending, though with a wish in - it different from Mirabeau’s. - </p> - - <p> - Remark, on the other hand, how General Dumouriez has quitted Normandy and - the Cherbourg Breakwater, to come—whither we may guess. It is his - second or even third trial at Paris, since this New Era began; but now it - is in right earnest, for he has quitted all else. Wiry, elastic unwearied - man; whose life was but a battle and a march! No, <i>not</i> a creature - of Choiseul’s; ‘the creature of God and of my sword,’—he fiercely - answered in old days. Overfalling Corsican batteries, in the deadly - fire-hail; wriggling invincible from under his horse, at Closterkamp of - the Netherlands, though tethered with “crushed stirrup-iron and nineteen - wounds;” tough, minatory, standing at bay, as forlorn hope, on the skirts - of Poland; intriguing, battling in cabinet and field; roaming far out, - obscure, as King’s spial, or sitting sealed up, enchanted in Bastille; - fencing, pamphleteering, scheming and struggling from the very birth of - him,<a href="#linknote-271" name="linknoteref-271" - id="linknoteref-271">[271]</a>—the man has come thus far. How - repressed, how irrepressible! Like some incarnate spirit in prison, which - indeed he <i>was;</i> hewing on granite walls for deliverance; striking - fire flashes from them. And now has the general earthquake rent his - cavern too? Twenty years younger, what might he not have done! But his - hair has a shade of gray: his way of thought is all fixed, military. He - can <i>grow</i> no further, and the new world is in such growth. We will - name him, on the whole, one of Heaven’s Swiss; without faith; wanting - above all things work, work on <i>any</i> side. Work also is appointed - him; and he will do it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Not from over France only are the unrestful flocking towards Paris; but - from all sides of Europe. Where the carcase is, thither will the eagles - gather. Think how many a Spanish Guzman, Martinico Fournier named - “Fournier <i>l’Américain</i>,” Engineer Miranda from the very Andes, were - flocking or had flocked! Walloon Pereyra might boast of the strangest - parentage: him, they say, Prince Kaunitz the Diplomatist heedlessly - dropped;” like ostrich-egg, to be hatched of Chance—into an - ostrich-<i>eater!</i> Jewish or German Freys do business in the great - Cesspool of <i>Agio;</i> which Cesspool this <i>Assignat</i>-fiat has - quickened, into a Mother of dead dogs. Swiss Clavière could found no - Socinian Genevese Colony in Ireland; but he paused, years ago, prophetic - before the Minister’s Hôtel at Paris; and said, it was borne on his mind - that <i>he</i> one day was to be Minister, and laughed.<a - href="#linknote-272" name="linknoteref-272" - id="linknoteref-272">[272]</a> Swiss Pachc, on the other hand, sits - sleekheaded, frugal; the wonder of his own alley, and even of - neighbouring ones, for humility of mind, and a thought deeper than most - men’s: sit there, Tartuffe, till wanted! Ye Italian Dufournys, Flemish - Prolys, flit hither all ye bipeds of prey! Come whosesoever head is hot; - thou of mind <i>ungoverned</i>, be it chaos as of undevelopment or chaos - as of ruin; the man who cannot get known, the man who is too well known; - if thou have any vendible faculty, nay if thou have but edacity and - loquacity, come! They come; with hot unutterabilities in their heart; as - Pilgrims towards a miraculous shrine. Nay how many come as vacant - Strollers, aimless, of whom Europe is full merely towards - <i>something!</i> For benighted fowls, when you beat their bushes, rush - towards any light. Thus Frederick Baron Trenck too is here; mazed, - purblind, from the cells of Magdeburg; Minotauric cells, and his Ariadne - lost! Singular to say, Trenck, in these years, sells wine; not indeed in - bottle, but in wood. - </p> - - <p> - Nor is our England without her missionaries. She has her live-saving - Needham;<a href="#linknote-273" name="linknoteref-273" - id="linknoteref-273">[273]</a> to whom was solemnly presented a “civic - sword,”—long since rusted into nothingness. Her Paine: rebellious - Staymaker; unkempt; who feels that he, a single Needleman, did by his - “<i>Common-Sense</i>” Pamphlet, free America;—that he can and will - free all this World; perhaps even the other. Price-Stanhope - Constitutional Association sends over to congratulate;<a - href="#linknote-274" name="linknoteref-274" - id="linknoteref-274">[274]</a> welcomed by National Assembly, though they - are but a London Club; whom Burke and Toryism eye askance. - </p> - - <p> - On thee too, for country’s sake, O Chevalier John Paul, be a word spent, - or misspent! In faded naval uniform, Paul Jones lingers visible here; - like a wine-skin from which the wine is all drawn. Like the ghost of - himself! Low is his once loud bruit; scarcely audible, save, with extreme - tedium in ministerial ante-chambers; in this or the other charitable - dining-room, mindful of the past. What changes; culminatings and - declinings! Not now, poor Paul, thou lookest wistful over the Solway - brine, by the foot of native Criffel, into blue mountainous Cumberland, - into blue Infinitude; environed with thrift, with humble friendliness; - thyself, young fool, longing to be aloft from it, or even to be away from - it. Yes, beyond that sapphire Promontory, which men name St. Bees, which - is not sapphire either, but dull sandstone, when one gets <i>close</i> to - it, there is a world. Which world thou too shalt taste of!—From - yonder White Haven rise his smoke-clouds; ominous though ineffectual. - Proud Forth quakes at his bellying sails; had not the wind suddenly - shifted. Flamborough reapers, homegoing, pause on the hill-side: for what - sulphur-cloud is that that defaces the sleek sea; sulphur-cloud spitting - streaks of fire? A sea cockfight it is, and of the hottest; where British - <i>Serapis</i> and French-American <i>Bon Homme Richard</i> do lash and - throttle each other, in their fashion; and lo the desperate valour has - suffocated the deliberate, and Paul Jones too is of the Kings of the Sea! - </p> - - <p> - The Euxine, the Méotian waters felt thee next, and long-skirted Turks, O - Paul; and thy fiery soul has wasted itself in thousand - contradictions;—to no purpose. For, in far lands, with scarlet - Nassau-Siegens, with sinful Imperial Catherines, is not the heart-broken, - even as at home with the mean? Poor Paul! hunger and dispiritment track - thy sinking footsteps: once or at most twice, in this Revolution-tumult - the figure of thee emerges; mute, ghost-like, as “with stars - dim-twinkling through.” And then, when the light is gone quite out, a - National Legislature grants “ceremonial funeral!” As good had been the - natural Presbyterian Kirk-bell, and six feet of Scottish earth, among the - dust of thy loved ones.—<i>Such</i> world lay beyond the Promontory - of St. Bees. Such is the life of sinful mankind here below. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But of all strangers, far the notablest for us is Baron Jean Baptiste de - Clootz;—or, dropping baptisms and feudalisms, World-Citizen - Anacharsis Clootz, from Cleves. Him mark, judicious Reader. Thou hast - known his Uncle, sharp-sighted thorough-going Cornelius de Pauw, who - mercilessly cuts down cherished illusions; and of the finest antique - Spartans, will make mere modern cutthroat Mainots.<a href="#linknote-275" - name="linknoteref-275" id="linknoteref-275">[275]</a> The like stuff is - in Anacharsis: hot metal; full of scoriae, which should and could have - been smelted out, but which will not. He has wandered over this - terraqueous Planet; seeking, one may say, the Paradise we lost long ago. - He has seen English Burke; has been seen of the Portugal Inquisition; has - roamed, and fought, and written; is writing, among other things, - “Evidences of the <i>Mahometan</i> Religion.” But now, like his Scythian - adoptive godfather, he finds himself in the Paris Athens; surely, at - last, the haven of his soul. A dashing man, beloved at Patriotic - dinner-tables; with gaiety, nay with humour; headlong, trenchant, of free - purse; in suitable costume; though what mortal ever more despised - costumes? Under all costumes Anacharsis seeks the man; not Stylites Marat - will more freely trample costumes, if they hold no man. This is the faith - of Anacharsis: That there is a Paradise discoverable; that all costumes - ought to hold men. O Anacharsis, it is a headlong, swift-going faith. - Mounted thereon, meseems, thou art bound hastily for the City of - <i>Nowhere;</i> and wilt <i>arrive!</i> At best, we may say, arrive <i>in - good riding attitude;</i> which indeed is something. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So many new persons, and new things, have come to occupy this France. Her - old Speech and Thought, and Activity which springs from those, are all - changing; fermenting towards unknown issues. To the dullest peasant, as - he sits sluggish, overtoiled, by his evening hearth, one idea has come: - that of Châteaus burnt; of Châteaus combustible. How altered all - Coffeehouses, in Province or Capital! The <i>Antre de Procope</i> has now - other questions than the Three Stagyrite Unities to settle; not - theatre-controversies, but a world-controversy: there, in the ancient - pigtail mode, or with modern Brutus’ heads, do well-frizzed logicians - hold hubbub, and Chaos umpire sits. The ever-enduring Melody of Paris - Saloons has got a new ground-tone: ever-enduring; which has been heard, - and by the listening Heaven too, since Julian the Apostate’s time and - earlier; mad now as formerly. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Ex-Censor Suard, <i>Ex</i>-Censor, for we have freedom of the Press; he - may be seen there; impartial, even neutral. Tyrant Grimm rolls large - eyes, over a questionable coming Time. Atheist Naigeon, beloved disciple - of Diderot, crows, in his small difficult way, heralding glad dawn.<a - href="#linknote-276" name="linknoteref-276" - id="linknoteref-276">[276]</a> But, on the other hand, how many - Morellets, Marmontels, who had sat all their life hatching Philosophe - eggs, cackle now, in a state bordering on distraction, at the brood they - have brought out!<a href="#linknote-277" name="linknoteref-277" - id="linknoteref-277">[277]</a> It was so delightful to have one’s - Philosophe Theorem demonstrated, crowned in the saloons: and now an - infatuated people will not continue speculative, but have Practice? - </p> - - <p> - There also observe Preceptress Genlis, or Sillery, or - Sillery-Genlis,—for our husband is both Count and Marquis, and we - have more than one title. Pretentious, frothy; a puritan yet creedless; - darkening counsel by words without wisdom! For, it is in that thin - element of the Sentimentalist and Distinguished-Female that - Sillery-Genlis works; she would gladly be sincere, yet can grow no - sincerer than sincere-cant: sincere-cant of many forms, ending in the - devotional form. For the present, on a neck still of moderate whiteness, - she wears as jewel a miniature Bastille, cut on mere sandstone, but then - actual Bastille sandstone. M. le Marquis is one of d’Orléans’s errandmen; - in National Assembly, and elsewhere. Madame, for her part, trains up a - youthful d’Orléans generation in what superfinest morality one can; gives - meanwhile rather enigmatic account of fair Mademoiselle Pamela, the - Daughter whom she has <i>adopted</i>. Thus she, in Palais Royal - saloon;—whither, we remark, d’Orléans himself, spite of Lafayette, - has returned from that English “mission” of his: surely no pleasant - mission: for the English would not speak to him; and Saint Hannah More of - England, so unlike Saint Sillery-Genlis of France, saw him shunned, in - Vauxhall Gardens, like one pest-struck,<a href="#linknote-278" - name="linknoteref-278" id="linknoteref-278">[278]</a> and his red-blue - impassive visage waxing hardly a shade bluer. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"></a> - Chapter 2.1.IV.<br/> - Journalism. - </h3> - - <p> - As for Constitutionalism, with its National Guards, it is doing what it - can; and has enough to do: it must, as ever, with one hand wave - persuasively, repressing Patriotism; and keep the other clenched to - menace Royalty plotters. A most delicate task; requiring tact. - </p> - - <p> - Thus, if People’s-friend Marat has today his writ of “<i>prise de - corps</i>, or seizure of body,” served on him, and dives out of sight, - tomorrow he is left at large; or is even encouraged, as a sort of bandog - whose baying may be useful. President Danton, in open Hall, with - reverberating voice, declares that, in a case like Marat’s, ‘force may be - resisted by force.’ Whereupon the Chatelet serves Danton also with a - writ;—which, however, as the whole Cordeliers District responds to - it, what Constable will be prompt to execute? Twice more, on new - occasions, does the Chatelet launch its writ; and twice more in vain: the - body of Danton cannot be seized by Châtelet; he unseized, should he even - fly for a season, shall behold the Châtelet itself flung into limbo. - </p> - - <p> - Municipality and Brissot, meanwhile, are far on with their Municipal - Constitution. The Sixty <i>Districts</i> shall become Forty-eight - <i>Sections;</i> much shall be adjusted, and Paris have its Constitution. - A Constitution wholly Elective; as indeed all French Government shall and - must be. And yet, one fatal element has been introduced: that of - <i>citoyen actif</i>. No man who does not pay the <i>marc d’argent</i>, - or yearly tax equal to three days’ labour, shall be other than a - <i>passive</i> citizen: not the slightest vote for him; were he - <i>acting</i>, all the year round, with sledge hammer, with - forest-levelling axe! Unheard of! cry Patriot Journals. Yes truly, my - Patriot Friends, if Liberty, the passion and prayer of all men’s souls, - means Liberty to send your fifty-thousandth part of a new Tongue-fencer - into National Debating-club, then, be the gods witness, ye are hardly - entreated. Oh, if in National <i>Palaver</i> (as the Africans name it), - such blessedness is verily found, what tyrant would deny it to Son of - Adam! Nay, might there not be a Female Parliament too, with “screams from - the Opposition benches,” and “the honourable Member borne out in - hysterics?” To a Children’s Parliament would I gladly consent; or even - lower if ye wished it. Beloved Brothers! Liberty, one might fear, is - actually, as the ancient wise men said, of Heaven. On this Earth, where, - thinks the enlightened public, did a brave little Dame de Staal (not - Necker’s Daughter, but a far shrewder than she) find the nearest approach - to Liberty? After mature computation, cool as Dilworth’s, her answer is, - <i>In the Bastille.</i><a href="#linknote-279" name="linknoteref-279" - id="linknoteref-279">[279]</a> ‘Of Heaven?’ answer many, asking. Wo that - they should <i>ask;</i> for that is the very misery! ‘Of Heaven’ means - much; share in the National Palaver it may, or may as probably <i>not</i> - mean. - </p> - - <p> - One Sansculottic bough that cannot fail to flourish is Journalism. The - voice of the People <i>being</i> the voice of God, shall not such divine - voice make itself heard? To the ends of France; and in as many dialects - as when the <i>first</i> great Babel was to be built! Some loud as the - lion; some small as the sucking dove. Mirabeau himself has his - instructive Journal or Journals, with Geneva hodmen working in them; and - withal has quarrels enough with Dame le Jay, his Female Bookseller, so - ultra-compliant otherwise.<a href="#linknote-280" name="linknoteref-280" - id="linknoteref-280">[280]</a> - </p> - - <p> - <i>King’s-friend</i> Royou still prints himself. Barrère sheds tears of - loyal sensibility in <i>Break of Day</i> Journal, though with declining - sale. But why is Fréron so hot, democratic; Fréron, the King’s-friend’s - Nephew? He has it by kind, that heat of his: <i>wasp</i> Fréron begot - him; Voltaire’s <i>Frélon;</i> who fought stinging, while sting and - poison-bag were left, were it only as Reviewer, and over Printed - Waste-paper. Constant, illuminative, as the nightly lamplighter, issues - the useful <i>Moniteur</i>, for it is now become diurnal: with facts and - few commentaries; official, safe in the middle:—its able Editors - sunk long since, recoverably or irrecoverably, in deep darkness. Acid - Loustalot, with his “vigour,” as of young sloes, shall never ripen, but - die untimely: his Prudhomme, however, will not let that <i>Révolutions de - Paris</i> die; but edit it himself, with much else,—dull-blustering - Printer though he be. - </p> - - <p> - Of Cassandra-Marat we have spoken often; yet the most surprising truth - remains to be spoken: that he actually does not want sense; but, with - croaking gelid throat, croaks out masses of the truth, on several things. - Nay sometimes, one might almost fancy he had a perception of humour, and - were laughing a little, far down in his inner man. Camille is wittier - than ever, and more outspoken, cynical; yet sunny as ever. A light - melodious creature; “born,” as he shall yet say with bitter tears, “to - write verses;” light Apollo, so clear, soft-lucent, in this war of the - Titans, wherein he shall not conquer! - </p> - - <p> - Folded and hawked Newspapers exist in all countries; but, in such a - Journalistic element as this of France, other and stranger sorts are to - be anticipated. What says the English reader to a <i>Journal-Affiche</i>, - Placard Journal; legible to him that has no halfpenny; in bright - prismatic colours, calling the eye from afar? Such, in the coming months, - as Patriot Associations, public and private, advance, and can subscribe - funds, shall plenteously hang themselves out: <i>leaves</i>, limed - leaves, to catch what they can! The very Government shall have its Pasted - Journal; Louvet, busy yet with a new “charming romance,” shall write - <i>Sentinelles</i>, and post them with effect; nay Bertrand de Moleville, - in his extremity, shall still more cunningly try it.<a - href="#linknote-281" name="linknoteref-281" - id="linknoteref-281">[281]</a> Great is Journalism. Is not every Able - Editor a Ruler of the World, being a persuader of it; though - self-elected, yet sanctioned, by the sale of his Numbers? Whom indeed the - world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be: that of merely - doing <i>nothing</i> to him; which ends in starvation! - </p> - - <p> - Nor esteem it small what those Bill-stickers had to do in Paris: above - Three Score of them: all with their crosspoles, haversacks, pastepots; - nay with leaden badges, for the Municipality licenses them. A Sacred - College, properly of World-rulers’ Heralds, though not respected as such, - in an Era still incipient and raw. They made the walls of Paris didactic, - suasive, with an ever fresh Periodical Literature, wherein he that ran - might read: Placard Journals, Placard Lampoons, Municipal Ordinances, - Royal Proclamations; the whole other or vulgar Placard-department - super-added,—or omitted from contempt! What unutterable things the - stone-walls spoke, during these five years! But it is all gone; Today - swallowing Yesterday, and then being in its turn swallowed of Tomorrow, - even as Speech ever is. Nay what, O thou immortal Man of Letters, is - Writing itself but Speech conserved for a time? The Placard Journal - conserved it for one day; some Books conserve it for the matter of ten - years; nay some for three thousand: but what then? Why, <i>then</i>, the - years being all run, it also dies, and the world is rid of it. Oh, were - there not a spirit in the word of man, as in man himself, that survived - the audible bodied word, and tended either Godward, or else Devilward for - evermore, why should he trouble himself much with the truth of it, or the - falsehood of it, except for commercial purposes? His immortality indeed, - and whether it shall last half a lifetime, or a lifetime and half; is not - that a very considerable thing? As mortality, was to the runaway, whom - Great Fritz bullied back into the battle with a: ‘<i>R—, wollt ihr - ewig leben</i>, Unprintable Off-scouring of Scoundrels, would ye live for - ever!’ - </p> - - <p> - This is the Communication of Thought: how happy when there is any Thought - to communicate! Neither let the simpler old methods be neglected, in - their sphere. The Palais-Royal Tent, a tyrannous Patrollotism has - removed; but can it remove the lungs of man? Anaxagoras Chaumette we saw - mounted on bourne-stones, while Tallien worked sedentary at the - subeditorial desk. In any corner of the civilised world, a tub can be - inverted, and an articulate-speaking biped mount thereon. Nay, with - contrivance, a portable trestle, or folding-stool, can be procured, for - love or money; this the peripatetic Orator can take in his hand, and, - driven out here, set it up again there; saying mildly, with a Sage Bias, - <i>Omnia mea mecum porto.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Such is Journalism, hawked, pasted, spoken. How changed since One old - Métra walked this same Tuileries Garden, in gilt cocked hat, with Journal - at his nose, or held loose-folded behind his back; and was a notability - of Paris, “Métra the Newsman;”<a href="#linknote-282" - name="linknoteref-282" id="linknoteref-282">[282]</a> and Louis himself - was wont to say: <i>Qu’en dit Métra?</i> Since the first Venetian - News-sheet was sold for a <i>gazza</i>, or farthing, and named - <i>Gazette!</i> We live in a fertile world. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"></a> - Chapter 2.1.V.<br/> - Clubbism. - </h3> - - <p> - Where the heart is full, it seeks, for a thousand reasons, in a thousand - ways, to impart itself. How sweet, indispensable, in such cases, is - fellowship; soul mystically strengthening soul! The meditative Germans, - some think, have been of opinion that Enthusiasm in the general means - simply excessive Congregating—<i>Schwärmerey</i>, or - <i>Swarming</i>. At any rate, do we not see glimmering half-red embers, - if laid <i>together</i>, get into the brightest white glow? - </p> - - <p> - In such a France, gregarious Reunions will needs multiply, intensify; - French Life will step out of doors, and, from domestic, become a public - Club Life. Old Clubs, which already germinated, grow and flourish; new - every where bud forth. It is the sure symptom of Social Unrest: in such - way, most infallibly of all, does Social Unrest exhibit itself; find - solacement, and also nutriment. In every French head there hangs now, - whether for terror or for hope, some prophetic picture of a New France: - prophecy which brings, nay which almost is, its own fulfilment; and in - all ways, consciously and unconsciously, works towards that. - </p> - - <p> - Observe, moreover, how the Aggregative Principle, let it be but deep - enough, goes on aggregating, and this even in a geometrical progression: - how when the whole world, in such a plastic time, is forming itself into - Clubs, some One Club, the strongest or luckiest, shall, by friendly - attracting, by victorious compelling, grow ever stronger, till it become - immeasurably strong; and all the others, with their strength, be either - lovingly absorbed into it, or hostilely abolished by it! This if the - Club-spirit is universal; if the time <i>is</i> plastic. Plastic enough - is the time, universal the Club-spirit: such an all absorbing, paramount - One Club cannot be wanting. - </p> - - <p> - What a progress, since the first salient-point of the Breton Committee! - It worked long in secret, not languidly; it has come with the National - Assembly to Paris; calls itself <i>Club;</i> calls itself in imitation, - as is thought, of those generous Price-Stanhope English, <i>French - Revolution Club;</i> but soon, with more originality, <i>Club of Friends - of the Constitution.</i> Moreover it has leased, for itself, at a fair - rent, the Hall of the Jacobin’s Convent, one of our “superfluous - edifices;” and does therefrom now, in these spring months, begin shining - out on an admiring Paris. And so, by degrees, under the shorter popular - title of <i>Jacobins’ Club</i>, it shall become memorable to all times - and lands. Glance into the interior: strongly yet modestly benched and - seated; as many as Thirteen Hundred chosen Patriots; Assembly Members not - a few. Barnave, the two Lameths are seen there; occasionally Mirabeau, - perpetually Robespierre; also the ferret-visage of Fouquier-Tinville with - other attorneys; Anacharsis of Prussian Scythia, and miscellaneous - Patriots,—though all is yet in the most perfectly clean-washed - state; decent, nay dignified. President on platform, President’s bell are - not wanting; oratorical Tribune high-raised; nor strangers’ galleries, - wherein also sit women. Has any French Antiquarian Society preserved that - written Lease of the Jacobins Convent Hall? Or was it, unluckier even - than Magna Charta, <i>clipt</i> by sacrilegious Tailors? Universal - History is not indifferent to it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - These Friends of the Constitution have met mainly, as their name may - foreshadow, to look after Elections when an Election comes, and procure - fit men; but likewise to consult generally that the Commonweal take no - damage; one as yet sees not how. For indeed let two or three gather - together any where, if it be not in Church, where all are bound to the - <i>passive</i> state; no mortal can say accurately, themselves as little - as any, for <i>what</i> they are gathered. How often has the broached - barrel proved not to be for joy and heart effusion, but for duel and - head-breakage; and the promised feast become a Feast of the Lapithae! - This Jacobins Club, which at first shone resplendent, and was thought to - be a new celestial Sun for enlightening the Nations, had, as things all - have, to work through its appointed phases: it burned unfortunately more - and more lurid, more sulphurous, distracted;—and swam at last, - through the astonished Heaven, like a Tartarean Portent, and - lurid-burning Prison of Spirits in Pain. - </p> - - <p> - Its style of eloquence? Rejoice, Reader, that thou knowest it not, that - thou canst never perfectly know. The Jacobins published a Journal of - Debates, where they that have the heart may examine: Impassioned, - full-droning Patriotic-eloquence; implacable, unfertile—save for - Destruction, which was indeed its work: most wearisome, though most - deadly. Be thankful that Oblivion covers so much; that all carrion is by - and by buried in the green Earth’s bosom, and even makes her grow the - greener. The Jacobins are buried; but their work is not; it continues - “making the tour of the world,” as it can. It might be seen lately, for - instance, with bared bosom and death-defiant eye, as far on as Greek - Missolonghi; and, strange enough, old slumbering Hellas was resuscitated, - into <i>somnambulism</i> which will become clear wakefulness, by a voice - from the Rue St. Honoré! All dies, as we often say; except the spirit of - man, of what man <i>does</i>. Thus has not the very House of the Jacobins - vanished; scarcely lingering in a few old men’s memories? The St. Honoré - Market has brushed it away, and now where dull-droning eloquence, like a - Trump of Doom, once shook the world, there is pacific chaffering for - poultry and greens. The sacred National Assembly Hall itself has become - common ground; President’s platform permeable to wain and dustcart; for - the Rue de Rivoli runs there. Verily, at Cockcrow (of this Cock or the - other), <i>all</i> Apparitions do melt and dissolve in space. - </p> - - <p> - The Paris <i>Jacobins</i> became “the Mother-Society, - <i>Société-Mère;</i>” and had as many as “three hundred” shrill-tongued - daughters in “direct correspondence” with her. Of indirectly - corresponding, what we may call grand-daughters and minute progeny, she - counted “forty-four thousand!”—But for the present we note only two - things: the first of them a mere anecdote. One night, a couple of brother - Jacobins are doorkeepers; for the members take this post of duty and - honour in rotation, and admit none that have not tickets: one doorkeeper - was the worthy Sieur Laïs, a patriotic Opera-singer, stricken in years, - whose windpipe is long since closed without result; the other, young, and - named Louis Philippe, D’Orléans’s firstborn, has in this latter time, - after unheard-of destinies, become Citizen-King, and struggles to rule - for a season. All-flesh is grass; higher reedgrass or creeping herb. - </p> - - <p> - The second thing we have to note is historical: that the Mother-Society, - even in this its effulgent period, cannot content all Patriots. Already - it must throw off, so to speak, two dissatisfied swarms; a swarm to the - right, a swarm to the left. One party, which thinks the Jacobins - lukewarm, constitutes itself into <i>Club of the Cordeliers;</i> a hotter - Club: it is Danton’s element: with whom goes Desmoulins. The other party, - again, which thinks the Jacobins scalding-hot, flies off to the right, - and becomes “Club of 1789, Friends of the <i>Monarchic</i> Constitution.” - They are afterwards named “<i>Feuillans Club;</i>” their place of meeting - being the Feuillans Convent. Lafayette is, or becomes, their chief-man; - supported by the respectable Patriot everywhere, by the mass of Property - and Intelligence,—with the most flourishing prospects. They, in - these June days of 1790, do, in the Palais Royal, dine solemnly with open - windows; to the cheers of the people; with toasts, with inspiriting - songs,—with one song at least, among the feeblest ever sung.<a - href="#linknote-283" name="linknoteref-283" - id="linknoteref-283">[283]</a> They shall, in due time be hooted forth, - over the borders, into Cimmerian Night. - </p> - - <p> - Another expressly Monarchic or Royalist Club, “<i>Club des - Monarchiens</i>,” though a Club of ample funds, and all sitting in damask - sofas, cannot realise the smallest momentary cheer; realises only scoffs - and groans;—till, ere long, certain Patriots in disorderly - sufficient number, proceed thither, for a night or for nights, and groan - it out of pain. Vivacious alone shall the Mother-Society and her family - be. The very Cordeliers may, as it were, return into her bosom, which - will have grown warm enough. - </p> - - <p> - Fatal-looking! Are not such Societies an incipient New Order of Society - itself? The Aggregative Principle anew at work in a Society grown - obsolete, cracked asunder, dissolving into rubbish and primary atoms? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"></a> - Chapter 2.1.VI.<br/> - Je le jure. - </h3> - - <p> - With these signs of the times, is it not surprising that the dominant - feeling all over France was still continually Hope? O blessed Hope, sole - boon of man; whereby, on his strait prison walls, are painted beautiful - far-stretching landscapes; and into the night of very Death is shed - holiest dawn! Thou art to all an indefeasible possession in this - God’s-world: to the wise a sacred Constantine’s-banner, written on the - eternal skies; under which they <i>shall</i> conquer, for the battle - itself is victory: to the foolish some secular <i>mirage</i>, or shadow - of still waters, painted on the parched Earth; whereby at least their - dusty pilgrimage, if devious, becomes cheerfuller, becomes possible. - </p> - - <p> - In the death-tumults of a sinking Society, French Hope sees only the - birth-struggles of a new unspeakably better Society; and sings, with full - assurance of faith, her brisk Melody, which some inspired fiddler has in - these very days composed for her,—the world-famous <i>Ça-ira</i>. - Yes; “that will go:” and then there will <i>come—?</i> All men - hope: even Marat hopes—that Patriotism will take muff and dirk. - King Louis is not without hope: in the chapter of chances; in a flight to - some Bouillé; in getting popularized at Paris. But what a hoping People - he had, judge by the fact, and series of facts, now to be noted. - </p> - - <p> - Poor Louis, meaning the best, with little insight and even less - determination of his own, has to follow, in that dim wayfaring of his, - such signal as may be given him; by backstairs Royalism, by official or - backstairs Constitutionalism, whichever for the month may have convinced - the royal mind. If flight to Bouillé, and (horrible to think!) a drawing - of the civil sword do hang as theory, portentous in the background, much - nearer is this fact of these Twelve Hundred Kings, who sit in the - <i>Salle de Manége</i>. Kings uncontrollable by him, not yet irreverent - to him. Could kind management of these but prosper, how much better were - it than armed Emigrants, Turin-intrigues, and the help of Austria! Nay, - are the <i>two</i> hopes inconsistent? Rides in the suburbs, we have - found, cost little; yet they always brought <i>vivats</i>.<a - href="#linknote-284" name="linknoteref-284" - id="linknoteref-284">[284]</a> Still cheaper is a soft word; such as has - many times turned away wrath. In these rapid days, while France is all - getting divided into Departments, Clergy about to be remodelled, Popular - Societies rising, and Feudalism and so much ever is ready to be hurled - into the melting-pot,—might one not try? - </p> - - <p> - On the 4th of February, accordingly, M. le Président reads to his - National Assembly a short autograph, announcing that his Majesty will - step over, quite in an unceremonious way, probably about noon. Think, - therefore, Messieurs, what it may mean; especially, how ye will get the - Hall decorated a little. The Secretaries’ Bureau can be shifted down from - the platform; on the President’s chair be slipped this cover of velvet, - “of a violet colour sprigged with gold fleur-de-lys;”—for indeed M. - le Président has had previous notice underhand, and taken counsel with - Doctor Guillotin. Then some fraction of “velvet carpet,” of like texture - and colour, cannot that be spread in front of the chair, where the - Secretaries usually sit? So has judicious Guillotin advised: and the - effect is found satisfactory. Moreover, as it is probable that his - Majesty, in spite of the fleur-de-lys-velvet, will stand and not sit at - all, the President himself, in the interim, presides standing. And so, - while some honourable Member is discussing, say, the division of a - Department, Ushers announce: ‘His Majesty!’ In person, with small suite, - enter Majesty: the honourable Member stops short; the Assembly starts to - its feet; the Twelve Hundred Kings “almost all,” and the Galleries no - less, do welcome the Restorer of French Liberty with loyal shouts. His - Majesty’s Speech, in diluted conventional phraseology, expresses this - mainly: That he, most of all Frenchmen, rejoices to see France getting - regenerated; is sure, at the same time, that they will deal gently with - her in the process, and not regenerate her <i>roughly</i>. Such was his - Majesty’s Speech: the feat he performed was coming to speak it, and going - back again. - </p> - - <p> - Surely, except to a very hoping People, there was not much here to build - upon. Yet what did they not build! The fact that the King has spoken, - that he has voluntarily come to speak, how inexpressibly encouraging! Did - not the glance of his royal countenance, like concentrated sunbeams, - kindle all hearts in an august Assembly; nay thereby in an inflammable - enthusiastic France? To move “Deputation of thanks” can be the happy lot - of but one man; to go in such Deputation the lot of not many. The Deputed - have gone, and returned with what highest-flown compliment they could; - whom also the Queen met, Dauphin in hand. And still do not our hearts - burn with insatiable gratitude; and to one other man a still higher - blessedness suggests itself: To move that we all renew the National Oath. - </p> - - <p> - Happiest honourable Member, with his word so in season as word seldom - was; magic Fugleman of a whole National Assembly, which sat there - bursting to do somewhat; Fugleman of a whole onlooking France! The - President swears; declares that every one shall swear, in distinct <i>je - le jure</i>. Nay the very Gallery sends him down a written slip signed, - with their Oath on it; and as the Assembly now casts an eye that way, the - Gallery all stands up and swears again. And then out of doors, consider - at the Hôtel-de-Ville how Bailly, the great Tennis-Court swearer, again - swears, towards nightful, with all the Municipals, and Heads of Districts - assembled there. And “M. Danton suggests that the public would like to - partake:” whereupon Bailly, with escort of Twelve, steps forth to the - great outer staircase; sways the ebullient multitude with stretched hand: - takes their oath, with a thunder of “rolling drums,” with shouts that - rend the welkin. And on all streets the glad people, with moisture and - fire in their eyes, “spontaneously formed groups, and swore one - another,”<a href="#linknote-285" name="linknoteref-285" - id="linknoteref-285">[285]</a>—and the whole City was illuminated. - This was the Fourth of February 1790: a day to be marked white in - Constitutional annals. - </p> - - <p> - Nor is the illumination for a night only, but partially or totally it - lasts a series of nights. For each District, the Electors of each - District, will swear specially; and always as the District swears; it - illuminates itself. Behold them, District after District, in some open - square, where the Non-Electing People can all see and join: with their - uplifted right hands, and <i>je le jure:</i> with rolling drums, with - embracings, and that infinite hurrah of the enfranchised,—which any - tyrant that there may be can consider! Faithful to the King, to the Law, - to the Constitution which the National Assembly <i>shall</i> make. - </p> - - <p> - Fancy, for example, the Professors of Universities parading the streets - with their young France, and swearing, in an enthusiastic manner, not - without tumult. By a larger exercise of fancy, expand duly this little - word: The like was repeated in every Town and District of France! Nay one - Patriot Mother, in Lagnon of Brittany, assembles her ten children; and, - with her own aged hand, swears them all herself, the highsouled venerable - woman. Of all which, moreover, a National Assembly must be eloquently - apprised. Such three weeks of swearing! Saw the sun ever such a swearing - people? Have they been bit by a swearing tarantula? No: but they are men - and Frenchmen; they have Hope; and, singular to say, they have Faith, - were it only in the Gospel according to Jean Jacques. O my Brothers! - would to Heaven it were even as ye think and have sworn! But there are - Lovers’ Oaths, which, had they been true as love itself, <i>cannot</i> be - kept; not to speak of Dicers’ Oaths, also a known sort. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"></a> - Chapter 2.1.VII.<br/> - Prodigies. - </h3> - - <p> - To such length had the <i>Contrat Social</i> brought it, in believing - hearts. Man, as is well said, lives by faith; each generation has its own - faith, more or less; and laughs at the faith of its - predecessor,—most unwisely. Grant indeed that this faith in the - Social Contract belongs to the stranger sorts; that an unborn generation - may very wisely, if not laugh, yet stare at it, and piously consider. - For, alas, what is <i>Contrat?</i> If all men were such that a mere - spoken or sworn Contract would bind them, all men were then true men, and - Government a superfluity. Not what thou and I have promised to each - other, but what the balance of our forces can make us perform to each - other: that, in so sinful a world as ours, is the thing to be counted on. - But above all, a People and a Sovereign promising to one another; as if a - whole People, changing from generation to generation, nay from hour to - hour, could ever by any method be made to <i>speak</i> or promise; and to - speak mere solecisms:‘We, be the Heavens witness, which Heavens however - do no miracles now; we, ever-changing Millions, will <i>allow</i> thee, - changeful Unit, to <i>force</i> us or govern us!’ The world has perhaps - seen few faiths comparable to that. - </p> - - <p> - So nevertheless had the world then construed the matter. Had they - <i>not</i> so construed it, how different had their hopes been, their - attempts, their results! But so and not otherwise did the Upper Powers - will it to be. Freedom by Social Contract: such was verily the Gospel of - that Era. And all men had believed in it, as in a Heaven’s Glad-tidings - men should; and with overflowing heart and uplifted voice clave to it, - and stood fronting Time and Eternity on it. Nay smile not; or only with a - smile sadder than tears! This too was a better faith than the one it had - replaced: than faith merely in the Everlasting Nothing and man’s - Digestive Power; lower than <i>which</i> no faith can go. - </p> - - <p> - Not that such universally prevalent, universally jurant, feeling of Hope, - could be a unanimous one. Far from that! The time was ominous: social - dissolution near and certain; social renovation still a problem, - difficult and distant even though sure. But if ominous to some clearest - onlooker, whose faith stood not with one side or with the other, nor in - the ever-vexed jarring of Greek with Greek at all,—how unspeakably - ominous to dim Royalist participators; for whom Royalism was Mankind’s - palladium; for whom, with the abolition of Most-Christian Kingship and - Most-Talleyrand Bishopship, all loyal obedience, all religious faith was - to expire, and final Night envelope the Destinies of Man! On serious - hearts, of that persuasion, the matter sinks down deep; prompting, as we - have seen, to backstairs Plots, to Emigration with pledge of war, to - Monarchic Clubs; nay to still madder things. - </p> - - <p> - The Spirit of Prophecy, for instance, had been considered extinct for - some centuries: nevertheless these last-times, as indeed is the tendency - of last-times, do revive it; that so, of French mad things, we might have - sample also of the maddest. In remote rural districts, whither - Philosophism has not yet radiated, where a heterodox Constitution of the - Clergy is bringing strife round the altar itself, and the very - Church-bells are getting melted into small money-coin, it appears - probable that the End of the World cannot be far off. Deep-musing - atrabiliar old men, especially old women, hint in an obscure way that - they know what they know. The Holy Virgin, silent so long, has not gone - dumb;—and truly now, if ever more in this world, were the time for - her to speak. One Prophetess, though careless Historians have omitted her - name, condition, and whereabout, becomes audible to the general ear; - credible to not a few: credible to Friar Gerle, poor Patriot Chartreux, - in the National Assembly itself! She, in Pythoness’ recitative, with - wildstaring eye, sings that there shall be a Sign; that the heavenly Sun - himself will hang out a Sign, or Mock-Sun,—which, many say, shall - be stamped with the Head of hanged Favras. List, Dom Gerle, with that - poor addled poll of thine; list, O list;—and hear nothing.<a - href="#linknote-286" name="linknoteref-286" - id="linknoteref-286">[286]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Notable however was that “magnetic vellum, <i>vélin magnétique</i>,” of - the Sieurs d’Hozier and Petit-Jean, Parlementeers of Rouen. Sweet young - d’Hozier, “bred in the faith of his Missal, and of parchment - genealogies,” and of parchment generally: adust, melancholic, middle-aged - Petit-Jean: why came these two to Saint-Cloud, where his Majesty was - hunting, on the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul; and waited there, in - antechambers, a wonder to whispering Swiss, the livelong day; and even - waited without the Grates, when turned out; and had dismissed their - valets to Paris, as with purpose of endless waiting? They have a - <i>magnetic vellum</i>, these two; whereon the Virgin, wonderfully - clothing herself in Mesmerean Cagliostric Occult-Philosophy, has inspired - them to jot down instructions and predictions for a much-straitened King. - To whom, by Higher Order, they will this day present it; and save the - Monarchy and World. Unaccountable pair of visual-objects! Ye should be - men, and of the Eighteenth Century; but your magnetic vellum forbids us - so to interpret. Say, are ye aught? Thus ask the Guardhouse Captains, the - Mayor of St. Cloud; nay, at great length, thus asks the Committee of - Researches, and not the Municipal, but the National Assembly one. No - distinct answer, for weeks. At last it becomes plain that the right - answer is <i>negative</i>. Go, ye Chimeras, with your magnetic vellum; - sweet young Chimera, adust middle-aged one! The Prison-doors are open. - Hardly again shall ye preside the Rouen Chamber of Accounts; but vanish - obscurely into Limbo.<a href="#linknote-287" name="linknoteref-287" - id="linknoteref-287">[287]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"></a> - Chapter 2.1.VIII.<br/> - Solemn League and Covenant. - </h3> - - <p> - Such dim masses, and specks of even deepest black, work in that white-hot - glow of the French mind, now wholly in fusion, and <i>con</i>fusion. Old - women here swearing their ten children on the new Evangel of Jean - Jacques; old women there looking up for Favras’ Heads in the celestial - Luminary: these <i>are</i> preternatural signs, prefiguring somewhat. - </p> - - <p> - In fact, to the Patriot children of Hope themselves, it is undeniable - that difficulties exist: emigrating Seigneurs; Parlements in sneaking but - most malicious mutiny (though the rope is round their neck); above all, - the most decided “deficiency of grains.” Sorrowful: but, to a Nation that - hopes, not irremediable. To a Nation which is in fusion and ardent - communion of thought; which, for example, on signal of one Fugleman, will - lift its right hand like a drilled regiment, and swear and illuminate, - till every village from Ardennes to the Pyrenees has rolled its - village-drum, and sent up its little oath, and glimmer of - tallow-illumination some fathoms into the reign of Night! - </p> - - <p> - If grains are defective, the fault is not of Nature or National Assembly, - but of Art and Antinational Intriguers. Such malign individuals, of the - scoundrel species, have power to vex us, while the Constitution is - a-making. Endure it, ye heroic Patriots: nay rather, why not cure it? - Grains do grow, they lie extant there in sheaf or sack; only that - regraters and Royalist plotters, to provoke the people into illegality, - obstruct the transport of grains. Quick, ye organised Patriot - Authorities, armed National Guards, meet together; unite your goodwill; - in union is tenfold strength: let the concentred flash of your Patriotism - strike stealthy Scoundrelism blind, paralytic, as with a <i>coup de - soleil.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Under which hat or nightcap of the Twenty-five millions, this pregnant - Idea first rose, for in some one head it did rise, no man can now say. A - most small idea, near at hand for the whole world: but a living one, fit; - and which waxed, whether into greatness or not, into immeasurable size. - When a Nation is in this state that the Fugleman can operate on it, what - will the word in season, the act in season, not do! It will grow verily, - like the Boy’s Bean in the Fairy-Tale, heaven-high, with habitations and - adventures on it, in one night. It is nevertheless unfortunately still a - Bean (for your long-lived Oak grows <i>not</i> so); and, the next night, - it may lie felled, horizontal, trodden into common mud.—But remark, - at least, how natural to any agitated Nation, which has Faith, this - business of Covenanting is. The Scotch, believing in a righteous Heaven - above them, and also in a Gospel, far other than the Jean-Jacques one, - swore, in their extreme need, a Solemn League and Covenant,—as - Brothers on the forlorn-hope, and imminence of battle, who embrace - looking Godward; and got the whole Isle to swear it; and even, in their - tough Old-Saxon Hebrew-Presbyterian way, to keep it more or - less;—for the thing, as such things are, was heard in Heaven, and - partially ratified there; neither is it yet dead, if thou wilt look, nor - like to die. The French too, with their Gallic-Ethnic excitability and - effervescence, have, as we have seen, real Faith, of a sort; they are - hard bestead, though in the middle of Hope: a National Solemn League and - Covenant there may be in France too; under how different conditions; with - how different developement and issue! - </p> - - <p> - Note, accordingly, the small commencement; first spark of a mighty - firework: for if the particular <i>hat</i> cannot be fixed upon, the - particular District can. On the 29th day of last November, were National - Guards by the thousand seen filing, from far and near, with military - music, with Municipal officers in tricolor sashes, towards and along the - Rhone-stream, to the little town of Etoile. There with ceremonial - evolution and manœuvre, with fanfaronading, musketry-salvoes, and what - else the Patriot genius could devise, they made oath and obtestation to - stand faithfully by one another, under Law and King; in particular, to - have all manner of grains, while grains there were, freely circulated, in - spite both of robber and regrater. This was the meeting of Etoile, in the - mild end of November 1789. - </p> - - <p> - But now, if a mere empty Review, followed by Review-dinner, ball, and - such gesticulation and flirtation as there may be, interests the happy - County-town, and makes it the envy of surrounding County-towns, how much - more might this! In a fortnight, larger Montélimart, half ashamed of - itself, will do as good, and better. On the Plain of Montélimart, or what - is equally sonorous, “under the Walls of Montélimart,” the thirteenth of - December sees new gathering and obtestation; six thousand strong; and now - indeed, with these three remarkable improvements, as unanimously resolved - on there. First that the men of Montélimart do federate with the already - federated men of Etoile. Second, that, implying not expressing the - circulation of grain, they “swear in the face of God and their Country” - with much more emphasis and comprehensiveness, “to obey all decrees of - the National Assembly, and see them obeyed, till death, <i>jusqu’à la - mort</i>.” Third, and most important, that official record of all this be - solemnly delivered in to the National Assembly, to M. de Lafayette, and - “to the Restorer of French Liberty;” who shall all take what comfort from - it they can. Thus does larger Montélimart vindicate its Patriot - importance, and maintain its rank in the municipal scale.<a - href="#linknote-288" name="linknoteref-288" - id="linknoteref-288">[288]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so, with the New-year, the signal is hoisted; for is not a National - Assembly, and solemn deliverance there, at lowest a National Telegraph? - Not only grain shall circulate, while there is grain, on highways or the - Rhone-waters, over all that South-Eastern region,—where also if - Monseigneur d’Artois saw good to break in from Turin, hot welcome might - wait him; but whatsoever Province of France is straitened for grain, or - vexed with a mutinous Parlement, unconstitutional plotters, Monarchic - Clubs, or any other Patriot ailment,—can go and do likewise, or - even do better. And now, especially, when the February swearing has set - them all agog! From Brittany to Burgundy, on most plains of France, under - most City-walls, it is a blaring of trumpets, waving of banners, a - constitutional manœuvring: under the vernal skies, while Nature too is - putting forth her green Hopes, under bright sunshine defaced by the - stormful East; like Patriotism victorious, though with difficulty, over - Aristocracy and defect of grain! There march and constitutionally wheel, - to the <i>ça-ira</i>-ing mood of fife and drum, under their tricolor - Municipals, our clear-gleaming Phalanxes; or halt, with uplifted - right-hand, and artillery-salvoes that imitate Jove’s thunder; and all - the Country, and metaphorically all “the Universe,” is looking on. - Wholly, in their best apparel, brave men, and beautifully dizened women, - most of whom have lovers there; swearing, by the eternal Heavens and this - green-growing all-nutritive Earth, that France is free! - </p> - - <p> - Sweetest days, when (astonishing to say) mortals have actually met - together in communion and fellowship; and man, were it only once through - long despicable centuries, is for moments verily the brother of - man!—And then the Deputations to the National Assembly, with - highflown descriptive harangue; to M. de Lafayette, and the Restorer; - very frequently moreover to the Mother of Patriotism sitting on her stout - benches in that Hall of the Jacobins! The general ear is filled with - Federation. New names of Patriots emerge, which shall one day become - familiar: Boyer-Fonfrede eloquent denunciator of a rebellious Bourdeaux - Parlement; Max Isnard eloquent reporter of the Federation of Draguignan; - eloquent pair, separated by the whole breadth of France, who are - nevertheless to meet. Ever wider burns the flame of Federation; ever - wider and also brighter. Thus the Brittany and Anjou brethren mention a - Fraternity of <i>all</i> true Frenchmen; and go the length of invoking - “perdition and death” on any renegade: moreover, if in their - National-Assembly harangue, they glance plaintively at the <i>marc - d’argent</i> which makes so many citizens <i>passive</i>, they, over in - the Mother-Society, ask, being henceforth themselves “neither Bretons nor - Angevins but French,” Why all France has not one Federation, and - universal Oath of Brotherhood, once for all?<a href="#linknote-289" - name="linknoteref-289" id="linknoteref-289">[289]</a> A most pertinent - suggestion; dating from the end of March. Which pertinent suggestion the - whole Patriot world cannot but catch, and reverberate and agitate till it - become <i>loud;</i>—which, in that case, the Townhall Municipals - had better take up, and meditate. - </p> - - <p> - Some universal Federation seems inevitable: the Where is given; clearly - Paris: only the When, the How? These also productive Time will give; is - already giving. For always as the Federative work goes on, it perfects - itself, and Patriot genius adds contribution after contribution. Thus, at - Lyons, in the end of the May month, we behold as many as fifty, or some - say sixty thousand, met to federate; and a multitude looking on, which it - would be difficult to number. From dawn to dusk! For our Lyons Guardsmen - took rank, at five in the bright dewy morning; came pouring in, - bright-gleaming, to the Quai de Rhone, to march thence to the - Federation-field; amid wavings of hats and lady-handkerchiefs; glad - shoutings of some two hundred thousand Patriot voices and hearts; the - beautiful and brave! Among whom, courting no notice, and yet the - notablest of all, what queenlike Figure is this; with her escort of - house-friends and Champagneux the Patriot Editor; come abroad with the - earliest? Radiant with enthusiasm are those dark eyes, is that strong - Minerva-face, looking dignity and earnest joy; joyfullest she where all - are joyful. It is Roland de la Platrière’s Wife!<a href="#linknote-290" - name="linknoteref-290" id="linknoteref-290">[290]</a> Strict elderly - Roland, King’s Inspector of Manufactures here; and now likewise, by - popular choice, the strictest of our new Lyons Municipals: a man who has - gained much, if worth and faculty be gain; but above all things, has - gained to wife Phlipon the Paris Engraver’s daughter. Reader, mark that - queenlike burgher-woman: beautiful, Amazonian-graceful to the eye; more - so to the mind. Unconscious of her worth (as all worth is), of her - greatness, of her crystal clearness; genuine, the creature of Sincerity - and Nature, in an age of Artificiality, Pollution and Cant; there, in her - still completeness, in her still invincibility, <i>she</i>, if thou knew - it, is the noblest of all living Frenchwomen,—and will be seen, one - day. O blessed rather while unseen, even of herself! For the present she - gazes, nothing doubting, into this grand theatricality; and thinks her - young dreams are to be fulfilled. - </p> - - <p> - From dawn to dusk, as we said, it lasts; and truly a sight like few. - Flourishes of drums and trumpets are something: but think of an - “artificial Rock fifty feet high,” all cut into crag-steps, not without - the similitude of “shrubs!” The interior cavity, for in sooth it is made - of deal,—stands solemn, a “Temple of Concord:” on the outer summit - rises “a Statue of Liberty,” colossal, seen for miles, with her Pike and - Phrygian Cap, and civic column; at her feet a Country’s Altar, “<i>Autel - de la Patrie:</i>”—on all which neither deal-timber nor lath and - plaster, with paint of various colours, have been spared. But fancy then - the banners all placed on the steps of the Rock; high-mass chaunted; and - the civic oath of fifty thousand: with what volcanic outburst of sound - from iron and other throats, enough to frighten back the very Saone and - Rhone; and how the brightest fireworks, and balls, and even repasts - closed in that night of the gods!<a href="#linknote-291" - name="linknoteref-291" id="linknoteref-291">[291]</a> And so the Lyons - Federation vanishes too, swallowed of darkness;—and yet not wholly, - for our brave fair Roland was there; also she, though in the deepest - privacy, writes her Narrative of it in Champagneux’s <i>Courier de - Lyons;</i> a piece which “circulates to the extent of sixty thousand;” - which one would like now to read. - </p> - - <p> - But on the whole, Paris, we may see, will have little to devise; will - only have to borrow and apply. And then as to the day, what day of all - the calendar is fit, if the Bastille Anniversary be not? The particular - spot too, it is easy to see, must be the Champ-de-Mars; where many a - Julian the Apostate has been lifted on bucklers, to France’s or the - world’s sovereignty; and iron Franks, loud-clanging, have responded to - the voice of a Charlemagne; and from of old mere sublimities have been - familiar. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"></a> - Chapter 2.1.IX.<br/> - Symbolic. - </h3> - - <p> - How natural, in all decisive circumstances, is Symbolic Representation to - all kinds of men! Nay, what is man’s whole terrestrial Life but a - Symbolic Representation, and making visible, of the Celestial invisible - Force that is in him? By act and word he strives to do it; with - sincerity, if possible; failing that, with theatricality, which latter - also may have its meaning. An Almack’s Masquerade is not nothing; in more - genial ages, your Christmas Guisings, Feasts of the Ass, Abbots of - Unreason, were a considerable something: since sport they were; as - Almacks may still be sincere wish for sport. But what, on the other hand, - must not sincere earnest have been: say, a Hebrew Feast of Tabernacles - have been! A whole Nation gathered, in the name of the Highest, under the - eye of the Highest; imagination herself flagging under the reality; and - all noblest Ceremony as yet not grown ceremonial, but solemn, significant - to the outmost fringe! Neither, in modern private life, are theatrical - scenes, of tearful women wetting whole ells of cambric in concert, of - impassioned bushy-whiskered youth threatening suicide, and such like, to - be so entirely detested: drop thou a tear over them thyself rather. - </p> - - <p> - At any rate, one can remark that no Nation will throw-by its work, and - deliberately go out to make a scene, without meaning something thereby. - For indeed no scenic individual, with knavish hypocritical views, will - take the trouble to <i>soliloquise</i> a scene: and now consider, is not - a scenic Nation placed precisely in that predicament of soliloquising; - for its own behoof alone; to solace its own sensibilities, maudlin or - other?—Yet in this respect, of readiness for scenes, the difference - of Nations, as of men, is very great. If our Saxon-Puritanic friends, for - example, swore and signed their National Covenant, without discharge of - gunpowder, or the beating of any drum, in a dingy Covenant-Close of the - Edinburgh High-street, in a mean room, where men now drink mean liquor, - it was consistent with their ways so to swear it. Our Gallic-Encyclopedic - friends, again, must have a Champ-de-Mars, seen of all the world, or - universe; and such a Scenic Exhibition, to which the Coliseum - Amphitheatre was but a stroller’s barn, as this old Globe of ours had - never or hardly ever beheld. Which method also we reckon natural, then - and there. Nor perhaps was the respective <i>keeping</i> of these two - Oaths far out of due proportion to such respective display in taking - them: inverse proportion, namely. For the theatricality of a People goes - in a compound-ratio: ratio indeed of their trustfulness, sociability, - fervency; but then also of their excitability, of their porosity, not - <i>continent;</i> or say, of their explosiveness, hot-flashing, but which - does not last. - </p> - - <p> - How true also, once more, is it that no man or Nation of men, - <i>conscious</i> of doing a great thing, was ever, in that thing, doing - other than a small one! O Champ-de-Mars Federation, with three hundred - drummers, twelve hundred wind-musicians, and artillery planted on height - after height to boom the tidings of it all over France, in few minutes! - Could no Atheist-Naigeon contrive to discern, eighteen centuries off, - those Thirteen most poor mean-dressed men, at frugal Supper, in a mean - Jewish dwelling, with no symbol but hearts god-initiated into the “Divine - depth of Sorrow,” and a <i>Do this in remembrance of me;</i>—and so - cease that small difficult crowing of his, if he were not doomed to it? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"></a> - Chapter 2.1.X.<br/> - Mankind. - </h3> - - <p> - Pardonable are human theatricalities; nay perhaps touching, like the - passionate utterance of a tongue which with sincerity <i>stammers;</i> of - a head which with insincerity <i>babbles</i>,—having gone - distracted. Yet, in comparison with unpremeditated outbursts of Nature, - such as an Insurrection of Women, how foisonless, unedifying, - undelightful; like small ale palled, like an effervescence that has - effervesced! Such scenes, coming of forethought, were they world-great, - and never so cunningly devised, are at bottom mainly pasteboard and - paint. But the others are original; emitted from the great everliving - heart of Nature herself: what figure <i>they</i> will assume is - unspeakably significant. To us, therefore, let the French National Solemn - League, and Federation, be the highest recorded triumph of the Thespian - Art; triumphant surely, since the whole Pit, which was of Twenty-five - Millions, not only claps hands, but does itself spring on the boards and - passionately set to playing there. And being such, be it treated as such: - with sincere cursory admiration; with wonder from afar. A whole Nation - gone mumming deserves so much; but deserves not that loving minuteness a - Menadic Insurrection did. Much more let prior, and as it were, rehearsal - scenes of Federation come and go, henceforward, as they list; and, on - Plains and under City-walls, innumerable regimental bands blare off into - the Inane, without note from us. - </p> - - <p> - One scene, however, the hastiest reader will momentarily pause on: that - of Anacharsis Clootz and the Collective sinful Posterity of - Adam.—For a Patriot Municipality has now, on the 4th of June, got - its plan concocted, and got it sanctioned by National Assembly; a Patriot - King assenting; to whom, were he even free to dissent, Federative - harangues, overflowing with loyalty, have doubtless a transient - sweetness. There shall come Deputed National Guards, so many in the - hundred, from each of the Eighty-three Departments of France. Likewise - from all Naval and Military King’s Forces, shall Deputed quotas come; - such Federation of National with Royal Soldier has, taking place - spontaneously, been already seen and sanctioned. For the rest, it is - hoped, as many as forty thousand may arrive: expenses to be borne by the - Deputing District; of all which let District and Department take thought, - and elect fit men,—whom the Paris brethren will fly to meet and - welcome. - </p> - - <p> - Now, therefore, judge if our Patriot Artists are busy; taking deep - counsel how to make the Scene worthy of a look from the Universe! As many - as fifteen thousand men, spade-men, barrow-men, stone-builders, rammers, - with their engineers, are at work on the Champ-de-Mars; hollowing it out - into a natural Amphitheatre, fit for such solemnity. For one may hope it - will be annual and perennial; a “Feast of Pikes, <i>Fête des Piques</i>,” - notablest among the high-tides of the year: in any case ought not a - Scenic free Nation to have some permanent National Amphitheatre? The - Champ-de-Mars is getting hollowed out; and the daily talk and the nightly - dream in most Parisian heads is of Federation, and that only. Federate - Deputies are already under way. National Assembly, what with its natural - work, what with hearing and answering harangues of Federates, of this - Federation, will have enough to do! Harangue of “American Committee,” - among whom is that faint figure of Paul Jones “as with the stars - dim-twinkling through it,”—come to congratulate us on the prospect - of such auspicious day. Harangue of Bastille Conquerors, come to - “renounce” any special recompense, any peculiar place at the - solemnity;—since the Centre Grenadiers rather grumble. Harangue of - “Tennis-Court Club,” who enter with far-gleaming Brass-plate, aloft on a - pole, and the Tennis-Court Oath engraved thereon; which far gleaming - Brass-plate they purpose to affix solemnly in the Versailles original - locality, on the 20th of this month, which is the anniversary, as a - deathless memorial, for some years: they will then dine, as they come - back, in the Bois de Boulogne;<a href="#linknote-292" - name="linknoteref-292" id="linknoteref-292">[292]</a>—cannot, - however, do it without apprising the world. To such things does the - august National Assembly ever and anon cheerfully listen, suspending its - regenerative labours; and with some touch of impromptu eloquence, make - friendly reply;—as indeed the wont has long been; for it is a - gesticulating, sympathetic People, and has a heart, and wears it on its - sleeve. - </p> - - <p> - In which circumstances, it occurred to the mind of Anacharsis Clootz that - while so much was embodying itself into Club or Committee, and perorating - applauded, there yet remained a greater and greatest; of which, if - <i>it</i> also took body and perorated, what might not the effect be: - Humankind namely, <i>le Genre Humain</i> itself! In what rapt creative - moment the Thought rose in Anacharsis’s soul; all his throes, while he - went about giving shape and birth to it; how he was sneered at by cold - worldlings; but did sneer again, being a man of polished sarcasm; and - moved to and fro persuasive in coffeehouse and soirée, and dived down - assiduous-obscure in the great deep of Paris, making his Thought a Fact: - of all this the spiritual biographies of that period say nothing. Enough - that on the 19th evening of June 1790, the Sun’s slant rays lighted a - spectacle such as our foolish little Planet has not often had to show: - Anacharsis Clootz entering the august Salle de Manége, with the Human - Species at his heels. Swedes, Spaniards, Polacks; Turks, Chaldeans, - Greeks, dwellers in Mesopotamia: behold them all; they have come to claim - place in the grand Federation, having an undoubted interest in it. - </p> - - <p> - ‘Our ambassador titles,’ said the fervid Clootz, ‘are not written on - parchment, but on the living hearts of all men.’ These whiskered Polacks, - long-flowing turbaned Ishmaelites, astrological Chaldeans, who stand so - mute here, let them plead with you, august Senators, more eloquently than - eloquence could. They are the mute representatives of their tongue-tied, - befettered, heavy-laden Nations; who from out of that dark bewilderment - gaze wistful, amazed, with half-incredulous hope, towards you, and this - your bright light of a French Federation: bright particular day-star, the - herald of universal day. We claim to stand there, as mute monuments, - pathetically adumbrative of much.—From bench and gallery comes - “repeated applause;” for what august Senator but is flattered even by the - very shadow of Human Species depending on him? From President Sieyes, who - presides this remarkable fortnight, in spite of his small voice, there - comes eloquent though shrill reply. Anacharsis and the “Foreigners - Committee” shall have place at the Federation; on condition of telling - their respective Peoples what they see there. In the mean time, we invite - them to the “honours of the sitting, <i>honneur de la séance</i>.” A - long-flowing Turk, for rejoinder, bows with Eastern solemnity, and utters - articulate sounds: but owing to his imperfect knowledge of the French - dialect,<a href="#linknote-293" name="linknoteref-293" - id="linknoteref-293">[293]</a> his words are like spilt water; the - thought he had in him remains conjectural to this day. - </p> - - <p> - Anacharsis and Mankind accept the honours of the sitting; and have - forthwith, as the old Newspapers still testify, the satisfaction to see - several things. First and chief, on the motion of Lameth, Lafayette, - Saint-Fargeau and other Patriot Nobles, let the others repugn as they - will: all Titles of Nobility, from Duke to Esquire, or lower, are - henceforth <i>abolished</i>. Then, in like manner, Livery Servants, or - rather the Livery of Servants. Neither, for the future, shall any man or - woman, self-styled noble, be “incensed,”—foolishly fumigated with - incense, in Church; as the wont has been. In a word, Feudalism being dead - these ten months, why should her empty trappings and scutcheons survive? - The very Coats-of-arms will require to be obliterated;—and yet - Cassandra Marat on this and the other coach-panel notices that they “are - but painted-over,” and threaten to peer through again. - </p> - - <p> - So that henceforth de Lafayette is but the Sieur Motier, and - Saint-Fargeau is plain Michel Lepelletier; and Mirabeau soon after has to - say huffingly, ‘With your <i>Riquetti</i> you have set Europe at - cross-purposes for three days.’ For his Counthood is not indifferent to - this man; which indeed the admiring People treat him with to the last. - But let extreme Patriotism rejoice, and chiefly Anacharsis and Mankind; - for now it seems to be taken for granted that one Adam is Father of us - all!— - </p> - - <p> - Such was, in historical accuracy, the famed feat of Anacharsis. Thus did - the most extensive of Public Bodies find a sort of spokesman. Whereby at - least we may judge of one thing: what a humour the once sniffing mocking - City of Paris and Baron Clootz had got into; when such exhibition could - appear a propriety, next door to a sublimity. It is true, Envy did in - after times, pervert this success of Anacharsis; making him, from - incidental “Speaker of the Foreign-Nations Committee,” claim to be - official permanent “Speaker, <i>Orateur</i>, of the Human Species,” which - he only deserved to be; and alleging, calumniously, that his astrological - Chaldeans, and the rest, were a mere French tag-rag-and-bobtail disguised - for the nonce; and, in short, sneering and fleering at him in <i>her</i> - cold barren way; all which, however, he, the man he was, could receive on - thick enough panoply, or even rebound therefrom, and also go <i>his</i> - way. - </p> - - <p> - Most extensive of Public Bodies, we may call it; and also the most - unexpected: for who could have thought to see All Nations in the - Tuileries Riding-Hall? But so it is; and truly as strange things may - happen when a whole People goes mumming and miming. Hast not thou thyself - perchance seen diademed Cleopatra, daughter of the Ptolemies, pleading, - almost with bended knee, in unheroic tea-parlour, or dimlit retail-shop, - to inflexible gross Burghal Dignitary, for leave to reign and die; being - dressed for it, and moneyless, with small children;—while suddenly - Constables have shut the Thespian barn, and her Antony pleaded in vain? - Such visual spectra flit across this Earth, if the Thespian Stage be - rudely interfered with: but much more, when, as was said, Pit jumps on - Stage, then is it verily, as in Herr Tieck’s Drama, a <i>Verkehrte - Welt</i>, of World Topsy-turvied! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Having seen the Human Species itself, to have seen the “<i>Dean</i> of - the Human Species,” ceased now to be a miracle. Such “<i>Doyen du Genre - Humain</i>, Eldest of Men,” had shewn himself there, in these weeks: Jean - Claude Jacob, a born Serf, deputed from his native Jura Mountains to - thank the National Assembly for enfranchising them. On his bleached worn - face are ploughed the furrowings of one hundred and twenty years. He has - heard dim <i>patois</i>-talk, of immortal Grand-Monarch victories; of a - burnt Palatinate, as <i>he</i> toiled and moiled to make a little speck - of this Earth greener; of Cevennes Dragoonings; of Marlborough going to - the war. Four generations have bloomed out, and loved and hated, and - rustled off: he was forty-six when Louis Fourteenth died. The Assembly, - as one man, spontaneously rose, and did reverence to the Eldest of the - World; old Jean is to take <i>séance</i> among them, honourably, with - covered head. He gazes feebly there, with his old eyes, on that new - wonder-scene; dreamlike to him, and uncertain, wavering amid fragments of - old memories and dreams. For Time is all growing unsubstantial, - dreamlike; Jean’s eyes and mind are weary, and about to close,—and - open on a far other wonder-scene, which shall be real. Patriot - Subscription, Royal Pension was got for him, and he returned home glad; - but in two months more he left it all, and went on his unknown way.<a - href="#linknote-294" name="linknoteref-294" - id="linknoteref-294">[294]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"></a> - Chapter 2.1.XI.<br/> - As in the Age of Gold. - </h3> - - <p> - Meanwhile to Paris, ever going and returning, day after day, and all day - long, towards that Field of Mars, it becomes painfully apparent that the - spadework there cannot be got done in time. There is such an area of it; - three hundred thousand square feet: for from the Ecole militaire (which - will need to be done up in wood with balconies and galleries) westward to - the Gate by the river (where also shall be wood, in triumphal arches), we - count same thousand yards of length; and for breadth, from this - umbrageous Avenue of eight rows, on the South side, to that corresponding - one on the North, some thousand feet, more or less. All this to be - scooped out, and wheeled up in slope along the sides; high enough; for it - must be rammed down there, and shaped stair-wise into as many as “thirty - ranges of convenient seats,” firm-trimmed with turf, covered with - enduring timber;—and then our huge pyramidal Fatherland’s-Altar, - <i>Autel de la Patrie</i>, in the centre, also to be raised and - stair-stepped! Force-work with a vengeance; it is a World’s Amphitheatre! - There are but fifteen days good; and at this languid rate, it might take - half as many weeks. What is singular too, the spademen seem to work - lazily; they will not work double-tides, even for offer of more wages, - though their tide is but seven hours; they declare angrily that the human - tabernacle requires occasional rest! - </p> - - <p> - Is it Aristocrats secretly bribing? Aristocrats were capable of that. - Only six months since, did not evidence get afloat that subterranean - Paris, for we stand over quarries and catacombs, dangerously, as it were - midway between Heaven and the Abyss, and are hollow - underground,—was charged with gunpowder, which should make us - “leap?” Till a Cordelier’s Deputation actually went to examine, and found - it—carried off again!<a href="#linknote-295" name="linknoteref-295" - id="linknoteref-295">[295]</a> An accursed, incurable brood; all asking - for “passports,” in these sacred days. Trouble, of rioting, - château-burning, is in the Limousin and elsewhere; for they are busy! - Between the best of Peoples and the best of Restorer-Kings, they would - sow grudges; with what a fiend’s-grin would they see this Federation, - looked for by the Universe, fail! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Fail for want of spadework, however, it shall not. He that has four - limbs, and a French heart, can do spadework; and will! On the first July - Monday, scarcely has the signal-cannon boomed; scarcely have the - languescent mercenary Fifteen Thousand laid down their tools, and the - eyes of onlookers turned sorrowfully of the still high Sun; when this and - the other Patriot, fire in his eye, snatches barrow and mattock, and - himself begins indignantly wheeling. Whom scores and then hundreds - follow; and soon a volunteer Fifteen Thousand are shovelling and - trundling; with the heart of giants; and all in right order, with that - extemporaneous adroitness of theirs: whereby <i>such</i> a lift has been - given, worth three mercenary ones;—which may end when the late - twilight thickens, in triumph shouts, heard or heard of beyond - Montmartre! - </p> - - <p> - A sympathetic population will <i>wait</i>, next day, with eagerness, till - the tools are free. Or why wait? Spades elsewhere exist! And so now - bursts forth that effulgence of Parisian enthusiasm, good-heartedness and - brotherly love; such, if Chroniclers are trustworthy, as was not - witnessed since the Age of Gold. Paris, male and female, precipitates - itself towards its South-west extremity, spade on shoulder. Streams of - men, without order; or in order, as ranked fellow-craftsmen, as natural - or accidental reunions, march towards the Field of Mars. Three-deep these - march; to the sound of stringed music; preceded by young girls with green - boughs, and tricolor streamers: they have shouldered, soldier-wise, their - shovels and picks; and with one throat are singing <i>ça-ira</i>. Yes, - <i>pardieu ça-ira</i>, cry the passengers on the streets. All corporate - Guilds, and public and private Bodies of Citizens, from the highest to - the lowest, march; the very Hawkers, one finds, have ceased bawling for - one day. The neighbouring Villages turn out: their able men come - marching, to village fiddle or tambourine and triangle, under their - Mayor, or Mayor and Curate, who also walk bespaded, and in tricolor sash. - As many as one hundred and fifty thousand workers: nay at certain - seasons, as some count, two hundred and fifty thousand; for, in the - afternoon especially, what mortal but, finishing his hasty day’s work, - would run! A stirring city: from the time you reach the Place Louis - Quinze, southward over the River, by all Avenues, it is one living - throng. So many workers; and no mercenary mock-workers, but real ones - that lie freely to it: each Patriot <i>stretches</i> himself against the - stubborn glebe; hews and wheels with the whole weight that is in him. - </p> - - <p> - Amiable infants, <i>aimables enfans!</i> They do the “<i>police des - l’atelier</i>” too, the guidance and governance, themselves; with that - ready will of theirs, with that extemporaneous adroitness. It is a true - brethren’s work; all distinctions confounded, abolished; as it was in the - beginning, when Adam himself delved. Longfrocked tonsured Monks, with - short-skirted Water-carriers, with swallow-tailed well-frizzled - <i>Incroyables</i> of a Patriot turn; dark Charcoalmen, meal-white - Peruke-makers; or Peruke-wearers, for Advocate and Judge are there, and - all Heads of Districts: sober Nuns sisterlike with flaunting Nymphs of - the Opera, and females in common circumstances named unfortunate: the - patriot Rag-picker, and perfumed dweller in palaces; for Patriotism like - New-birth, and also like Death, levels all. The Printers have come - marching, Prudhomme’s all in Paper-caps with <i>Révolutions de Paris</i> - printed on them; as Camille notes; wishing that in these great days there - should be a <i>Pacte des Ecrivains</i> too, or Federation of Able - Editors.<a href="#linknote-296" name="linknoteref-296" - id="linknoteref-296">[296]</a> Beautiful to see! The snowy linen and - delicate pantaloon alternates with the soiled check-shirt and - bushel-breeches; for both have cast their coats, and under both are four - limbs and a set of Patriot muscles. There do they pick and shovel; or - bend forward, yoked in long strings to box-barrow or overloaded tumbril; - joyous, with one mind. Abbé Sieyes is seen pulling, wiry, vehement, if - too light for draught; by the side of Beauharnais, who shall get Kings - though he be none. Abbé Maury did not pull; but the Charcoalmen brought a - mummer guised like him, so he had to pull in effigy. Let no august - Senator disdain the work: Mayor Bailly, Generalissimo Lafayette are - there;—and, alas, shall be there again another day! The King - himself comes to see: sky-rending <i>Vive-le-Roi;</i> “and suddenly with - shouldered spades they form a guard of honour round him.” Whosoever can - come comes, to work, or to look, and bless the work. - </p> - - <p> - Whole families have come. One whole family we see clearly, of three - generations: the father picking, the mother shovelling, the young ones - wheeling assiduous; old grandfather, hoary with ninety-three years, holds - in his arms the youngest of all:<a href="#linknote-297" - name="linknoteref-297" id="linknoteref-297">[297]</a> frisky, not helpful - this one; who nevertheless may tell it to <i>his</i> grandchildren; and - how the Future and the Past alike looked on, and with failing or with - half-formed voice, faltered their <i>ça-ira</i>. A vintner has wheeled - in, on Patriot truck, beverage of wine: ‘Drink not, my brothers, if ye - are not dry; that your cask may last the longer;’ neither did any drink, - but men “evidently exhausted.” A dapper Abbé looks on, sneering. ‘To the - barrow!’ cry several; whom he, lest a worse thing befal him, obeys: - nevertheless one wiser Patriot barrowman, arriving now, interposes his - ‘<i>arrêtez;</i>’ setting down his own barrow, he snatches the Abbé’s; - trundles it fast, like an infected thing; forth of the Champ-de-Mars - circuit, and discharges it <i>there</i>. Thus too a certain person (of - some quality, or private capital, to appearance), entering hastily, - flings down his coat, waistcoat and two watches, and is rushing to the - thick of the work: ‘But your watches?’ cries the general - voice.—‘Does one distrust his brothers?’ answers he; nor were the - watches stolen. How beautiful is noble-sentiment: like gossamer gauze, - beautiful and cheap; which will stand no tear and wear! Beautiful cheap - gossamer gauze, thou film-shadow of a raw-material of Virtue, which art - not woven, nor likely to be, into Duty; thou art better than nothing, and - also worse! - </p> - - <p> - Young Boarding-school Boys, College Students, shout <i>Vive la - Nation</i>, and regret that they have yet “only their sweat to give.” - What say we of Boys? Beautifullest Hebes; the loveliest of Paris, in - their light air-robes, with riband-girdle of tricolor, are there; - shovelling and wheeling with the rest; their Hebe eyes brighter with - enthusiasm, and long hair in beautiful dishevelment: hard-pressed are - their small fingers; but they make the patriot barrow go, and even force - it to the summit of the slope (with a little tracing, which what man’s - arm were not too happy to lend?)—then bound down with it again, and - go for more; with their long locks and tricolors blown back: graceful as - the rosy Hours. O, as that evening Sun fell over the Champ-de-Mars, and - tinted with fire the thick umbrageous boscage that shelters it on this - hand and on that, and struck direct on those Domes and two-and-forty - Windows of the Ecole Militaire, and made them all of burnished - gold,—saw he on his wide zodiac road other such sight? A living - garden spotted and dotted with such flowerage; all colours of the prism; - the beautifullest blent friendly with the usefullest; all growing and - working brotherlike there, under one warm feeling, were it but for days; - once and no second time! But Night is sinking; these Nights too, into - Eternity. The hastiest Traveller Versailles-ward has drawn bridle on the - heights of Chaillot: and looked for moments over the River; reporting at - Versailles what he saw, not without tears.<a href="#linknote-298" - name="linknoteref-298" id="linknoteref-298">[298]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile, from all points of the compass, Federates are arriving: fervid - children of the South, “who glory in their Mirabeau;” considerate - North-blooded Mountaineers of Jura; sharp Bretons, with their Gaelic - suddenness; Normans not to be overreached in bargain: all now animated - with one noblest fire of Patriotism. Whom the Paris brethren march forth - to receive; with military solemnities, with fraternal embracing, and a - hospitality worthy of the heroic ages. They assist at the Assembly’s - Debates, these Federates: the Galleries are reserved for them. They - assist in the toils of the Champ-de-Mars; each new troop will put its - hand to the spade; lift a hod of earth on the Altar of the Fatherland. - But the flourishes of rhetoric, for it is a gesticulating People; the - moral-sublime of those Addresses to an august Assembly, to a Patriot - Restorer! Our Breton Captain of Federates kneels even, in a fit of - enthusiasm, and gives up his sword; he wet-eyed to a King wet-eyed. Poor - Louis! These, as he said afterwards, were among the bright days of his - life. - </p> - - <p> - Reviews also there must be; royal Federate-reviews, with King, Queen and - tricolor Court looking on: at lowest, if, as is too common, it rains, our - Federate Volunteers will file through the inner gateways, Royalty - standing dry. Nay there, should some stop occur, the beautifullest - fingers in France may take you softly by the lapelle, and, in mild - flute-voice, ask: ‘Monsieur, of what Province are you?’ Happy he who can - reply, chivalrously lowering his sword’s point, ‘Madame, from the - Province your ancestors reigned over.’ He that happy “Provincial - Advocate,” now Provincial Federate, shall be rewarded by a sun-smile, and - such melodious glad words addressed to a King: ‘Sire, these are your - faithful Lorrainers.’ Cheerier verily, in these holidays, is this - “skyblue faced with red” of a National Guardsman, than the dull black and - gray of a Provincial Advocate, which in workdays one was used to. For the - same thrice-blessed Lorrainer shall, this evening, stand sentry at a - Queen’s door; and feel that he could die a thousand deaths for her: then - again, at the outer gate, and even a third time, she shall see him; nay - he will make her do it; presenting arms with emphasis, “making his musket - jingle again”: and in her salute there shall again be a sun-smile, and - that little blonde-locked too hasty Dauphin shall be admonished, ‘Salute - then, Monsieur, don’t be unpolite;’ and therewith she, like a bright - Sky-wanderer or Planet with her little Moon, issues forth peculiar.<a - href="#linknote-299" name="linknoteref-299" - id="linknoteref-299">[299]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But at night, when Patriot spadework is over, figure the sacred rights of - hospitality! Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau, a mere private senator, but with - great possessions, has daily his “hundred dinner-guests;” the table of - Generalissimo Lafayette may double that number. In lowly parlour, as in - lofty saloon, the wine-cup passes round; crowned by the smiles of Beauty; - be it of lightly-tripping Grisette, or of high-sailing Dame, for both - equally have beauty, and smiles precious to the brave. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"></a> - Chapter 2.1.XII.<br/> - Sound and Smoke. - </h3> - - <p> - And so now, in spite of plotting Aristocrats, lazy hired spademen, and - almost of Destiny itself (for there has been much rain), the - Champ-de-Mars, on the 13th of the month is fairly ready; trimmed, rammed, - buttressed with firm masonry; and Patriotism can stroll over it admiring; - and as it were rehearsing, for in every head is some unutterable image of - the morrow. Pray Heaven there be not clouds. Nay what far worse cloud is - this, of a misguided Municipality that talks of admitting Patriotism, to - the solemnity, by tickets! Was it by tickets we were admitted to the - work; and to what brought the work? Did we take the Bastille by tickets? - A misguided Municipality sees the error; at late midnight, rolling drums - announce to Patriotism starting half out of its bed-clothes, that it is - to be ticketless. Pull down thy night-cap therefore; and, with - demi-articulate grumble, significant of several things, go pacified to - sleep again. Tomorrow is Wednesday morning; unforgetable among the - <i>fasti</i> of the world. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The morning comes, cold for a July one; but such a festivity would make - Greenland smile. Through every inlet of that National Amphitheatre (for - it is a league in circuit, cut with openings at due intervals), floods-in - the living throng; covers without tumult space after space. The Ecole - Militaire has galleries and overvaulting canopies, where Carpentry and - Painting have vied, for the upper Authorities; triumphal arches, at the - Gate by the River, bear inscriptions, if weak, yet well-meant, and - orthodox. Far aloft, over the Altar of the Fatherland, on their tall - crane standards of iron, swing pensile our antique <i>Cassolettes</i> or - pans of incense; dispensing sweet incense-fumes,—unless for the - Heathen Mythology, one sees not for whom. Two hundred thousand Patriotic - Men; and, twice as good, one hundred thousand Patriotic Women, all decked - and glorified as one can fancy, sit waiting in this Champ-de-Mars. - </p> - - <p> - What a picture: that circle of bright-eyed Life, spread up there, on its - thirty-seated Slope; leaning, one would say, on the thick umbrage of - those Avenue-Trees, for the stems of them are hidden by the height; and - all beyond it mere greenness of Summer Earth, with the gleams of waters, - or white sparklings of stone-edifices: little circular enamel-picture in - the centre of such a vase—of emerald! A vase not empty: the - Invalides Cupolas want not their population, nor the distant Windmills of - Montmartre; on remotest steeple and invisible village belfry, stand men - with spy-glasses. On the heights of Chaillot are many-coloured undulating - groups; round and far on, over all the circling heights that embosom - Paris, it is as one more or less peopled Amphitheatre; which the eye - grows dim with measuring. Nay heights, as was before hinted, have cannon; - and a floating-battery of cannon is on the Seine. When eye fails, ear - shall serve; and all France properly is but one Amphitheatre: for in - paved town and unpaved hamlet, men walk listening; till the muffled - thunder sound audible on their horizon, that they too may begin swearing - and firing!<a href="#linknote-300" name="linknoteref-300" - id="linknoteref-300">[300]</a> But now, to streams of music, come - Federates enough,—for they have assembled on the Boulevard - Saint-Antoine or thereby, and come marching through the City, with their - Eighty-three Department Banners, and blessings not loud but deep; comes - National Assembly, and takes seat under its Canopy; comes Royalty, and - takes seat on a throne beside it. And Lafayette, on white charger, is - here, and all the civic Functionaries; and the Federates form dances, - till their strictly military evolutions and manœuvres can begin. - </p> - - <p> - Evolutions and manœuvres? Task not the pen of mortal to describe them: - truant imagination droops;—declares that it is not worth while. - There is wheeling and sweeping, to slow, to quick, and double quick-time: - Sieur Motier, or Generalissimo Lafayette, for they are one and the same, - and he is General of France, in the King’s stead, for four-and-twenty - hours; Sieur Motier must step forth, with that sublime chivalrous gait of - his; solemnly ascend the steps of the Fatherland’s Altar, in sight of - Heaven and of the scarcely breathing Earth; and, under the creak of those - swinging <i>Cassolettes</i>, “pressing his sword’s point firmly there,” - pronounce the Oath, <i>To King, to Law, and Nation</i> (not to mention - “grains” with their circulating), in his own name and that of armed - France. Whereat there is waving of banners and acclaim sufficient. The - National Assembly must swear, standing in its place; the King himself - audibly. The King swears; and now <i>be</i> the welkin split with vivats; - let citizens enfranchised embrace, each smiting heartily his palm into - his fellow’s; and armed Federates clang their arms; above all, that - floating battery speak! It has spoken,—to the four corners of - France. From eminence to eminence, bursts the thunder; faint-heard, - loud-repeated. What a stone, cast into what a lake; in circles that do - <i>not</i> grow fainter. From Arras to Avignon; from Metz to Bayonne! - Over Orléans and Blois it rolls, in cannon-recitative; Puy bellows of it - amid his granite mountains; Pau where is the shell-cradle of Great Henri. - At far Marseilles, one can think, the ruddy evening witnesses it; over - the deep-blue Mediterranean waters, the Castle of If ruddy-tinted darts - forth, from every cannon’s mouth, its tongue of fire; and all the people - shout: Yes, France is free. O glorious France that has burst out so; into - universal sound and smoke; and attained—the Phrygian <i>Cap</i> of - Liberty! In all Towns, Trees of Liberty also may be planted; with or - without advantage. Said we not, it is the highest stretch attained by the - Thespian Art on this Planet, or perhaps attainable? - </p> - - <p> - The Thespian Art, unfortunately, one must still call it; for behold - there, on this Field of Mars, the National Banners, before there could be - any swearing, were to be all blessed. A most proper operation; since - surely without Heaven’s blessing bestowed, say even, audibly or inaudibly - <i>sought</i>, no Earthly banner or contrivance can prove victorious: but - now the means of doing it? By what thrice-divine Franklin thunder-rod - shall miraculous fire be drawn out of Heaven; and descend gently, - life-giving, with health to the souls of men? Alas, by the simplest: by - Two Hundred shaven-crowned Individuals, “in snow-white albs, with - tricolor girdles,” arranged on the steps of Fatherland’s Altar; and, at - their head for spokesman, Soul’s Overseer Talleyrand-Perigord! These - shall act as miraculous thunder-rod,—to such length as they can. O - ye deep azure Heavens, and thou green all-nursing Earth; ye Streams - ever-flowing; deciduous Forests that die and are born again, continually, - like the sons of men; stone Mountains that die daily with every - rain-shower, yet are not dead and levelled for ages of ages, nor born - again (it seems) but with new world-explosions, and such tumultuous - seething and tumbling, steam half way to the Moon; O thou unfathomable - mystic All, garment and dwellingplace of the UNNAMED; O spirit, lastly, - of Man, who mouldest and modellest that Unfathomable Unnameable even as - we see,—is not <i>there</i> a miracle: That some French mortal - should, we say not have believed, but pretended to imagine that he - believed that Talleyrand and Two Hundred pieces of white Calico could do - it! - </p> - - <p> - Here, however, we are to remark with the sorrowing Historians of that - day, that suddenly, while Episcopus Talleyrand, long-stoled, with mitre - and tricolor belt, was yet but hitching up the Altar-steps, to do his - miracle, the material Heaven grew black; a north-wind, moaning cold - moisture, began to sing; and there descended a very deluge of rain. Sad - to see! The thirty-staired Seats, all round our Amphitheatre, get - instantaneously slated with mere umbrellas, fallacious when so thick set: - our antique <i>Cassolettes</i> become Water-pots; their incense-smoke - gone hissing, in a whiff of muddy vapour. Alas, instead of vivats, there - is nothing now but the furious peppering and rattling. From three to four - hundred thousand human individuals feel that they have a skin; happily - <i>im</i>pervious. The General’s sash runs water: how all military - banners droop; and will not wave, but lazily flap, as if metamorphosed - into painted tin-banners! Worse, far worse, these hundred thousand, such - is the Historian’s testimony, of the fairest of France! Their snowy - muslins all splashed and draggled; the ostrich feather shrunk shamefully - to the backbone of a feather: all caps are ruined; innermost pasteboard - molten into its original pap: Beauty no longer swims decorated in her - garniture, like Love-goddess hidden-revealed in her Paphian clouds, but - struggles in disastrous imprisonment in it, for “the shape was - noticeable;” and now only sympathetic interjections, titterings, - teeheeings, and resolute good-humour will avail. A deluge; an incessant - sheet or fluid-column of rain;—such that our Overseer’s very mitre - must be filled; not a mitre, but a filled and leaky fire-bucket on his - reverend head!—Regardless of which, Overseer Talleyrand performs - his miracle: the Blessing of Talleyrand, another than that of Jacob, is - on all the Eighty-three departmental flags of France; which wave or flap, - with such thankfulness as needs. Towards three o’clock, the sun beams out - again: the remaining evolutions can be transacted under bright heavens, - though with decorations much damaged.<a href="#linknote-301" - name="linknoteref-301" id="linknoteref-301">[301]</a> - </p> - - <p> - On Wednesday our Federation is consummated: but the festivities last out - the week, and over into the next. Festivities such as no Bagdad Caliph, - or Aladdin with the Lamp, could have equalled. There is a Jousting on the - River; with its water-somersets, splashing and haha-ing: Abbé Fauchet, - <i>Te-Deum</i> Fauchet, preaches, for his part, in “the rotunda of the - Corn-market,” a Harangue on Franklin; for whom the National Assembly has - lately gone three days in black. The Motier and Lepelletier tables still - groan with viands; roofs ringing with patriotic toasts. On the fifth - evening, which is the Christian Sabbath, there is a universal Ball. - Paris, out of doors and in, man, woman and child, is jigging it, to the - sound of harp and four-stringed fiddle. The hoariest-headed man will - tread one other measure, under this nether Moon; speechless nurselings, - <i>infants</i> as we call them, νήπια - τέκνα, crow in arms; and sprawl out numb-plump - little limbs,—impatient for muscularity, they know not why. The - stiffest balk bends more or less; all joists creak. - </p> - - <p> - Or out, on the Earth’s breast itself, behold the Ruins of the Bastille. - All lamplit, allegorically decorated: a Tree of Liberty sixty feet high; - and Phrygian Cap on it, of size enormous, under which King Arthur and his - round-table might have dined! In the depths of the background, is a - single lugubrious lamp, rendering dim-visible one of your iron cages, - half-buried, and some Prison stones,—Tyranny vanishing downwards, - all gone but the skirt: the rest wholly lamp-festoons, trees real or of - pasteboard; in the similitude of a fairy grove; with this inscription, - readable to runner: “<i>Ici l’on danse</i>, Dancing Here.” As indeed had - been obscurely foreshadowed by Cagliostro<a href="#linknote-302" - name="linknoteref-302" id="linknoteref-302">[302]</a> prophetic Quack of - Quacks, when he, four years ago, quitted the grim durance;—to fall - into a grimmer, of the Roman Inquisition, and not quit it. - </p> - - <p> - But, after all, what is this Bastille business to that of the <i>Champs - Elysées!</i> Thither, to these Fields well named Elysian, all feet tend. - It is radiant as day with festooned lamps; little oil-cups, like - variegated fire-flies, daintily illumine the highest leaves: trees there - are all sheeted with variegated fire, shedding far a glimmer into the - dubious wood. There, under the free sky, do tight-limbed Federates, with - fairest newfound sweethearts, elastic as Diana, and not of that coyness - and tart humour of Diana, thread their jocund mazes, all through the - ambrosial night; and hearts were touched and fired; and seldom surely had - our old Planet, in that huge conic Shadow of hers “which goes beyond the - Moon, and is named <i>Night</i>,” curtained such a Ball-room. O if, - according to Seneca, the very gods look down on a good man struggling - with adversity, and smile; what must they think of Five-and-twenty - million indifferent ones victorious over it,—for eight days and - more? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In this way, and in such ways, however, has the Feast of Pikes danced - itself off; gallant Federates wending homewards, towards every point of - the compass, with feverish nerves, heart and head much heated; some of - them, indeed, as Dampmartin’s elderly respectable friend, from - Strasbourg, quite “burnt out with liquors,” and flickering towards - extinction.<a href="#linknote-303" name="linknoteref-303" - id="linknoteref-303">[303]</a> The Feast of Pikes has danced itself off, - and become defunct, and the ghost of a Feast;—nothing of it now - remaining but this vision in men’s memory; and the place that knew it - (for the slope of that Champ-de-Mars is crumbled to half the original - height<a href="#linknote-304" name="linknoteref-304" - id="linknoteref-304">[304]</a>) now knowing it no more. Undoubtedly one - of the memorablest National Hightides. Never or hardly ever, as we said, - was Oath sworn with such heart-effusion, emphasis and expenditure of - joyance; and then it was broken irremediably within year and day. Ah, - why? When the swearing of it was so heavenly-joyful, bosom clasped to - bosom, and Five-and-twenty million hearts all burning together: O ye - inexorable Destinies, why?—Partly <i>because</i> it was sworn with - such over-joyance; but chiefly, indeed, for an older reason: that Sin had - come into the world and Misery by Sin! These Five-and-twenty millions, if - we will consider it, have now henceforth, with that Phrygian Cap of - theirs, no force <i>over</i> them, to bind and guide; neither in them, - more than heretofore, is guiding force, or rule of just living: how then, - while they all go rushing at such a <i>pace</i>, on unknown ways, with no - bridle, towards no aim, can hurlyburly unutterable fail? For verily not - Federation-rosepink is the colour of this Earth and her work: not by - outbursts of noble-sentiment, but with far other ammunition, shall a man - front the world. - </p> - - <p> - But how wise, in all cases, to “husband your fire;” to keep it deep down, - rather, as genial radical-heat! Explosions, the forciblest, and never so - well directed, are questionable; far oftenest futile, always frightfully - wasteful: but think of a man, of a Nation of men, spending its whole - stock of fire in one artificial Firework! So have we seen fond weddings - (for individuals, like Nations, have their Hightides) celebrated with an - outburst of triumph and deray, at which the elderly shook their heads. - Better had a serious cheerfulness been; for the enterprise was great. - Fond pair! the more triumphant ye feel, and victorious over terrestrial - evil, which seems all abolished, the wider-eyed will your disappointment - be to find terrestrial evil still extant. ‘And why extant?’ will each of - you cry: ‘Because my false mate has played the traitor: evil was - abolished; I meant faithfully, and did, or would have done.’ Whereby the - oversweet moon of honey changes itself into long years of vinegar; - perhaps divulsive vinegar, like Hannibal’s. - </p> - - <p> - Shall we say then, the French Nation has led Royalty, or wooed and teased - poor Royalty to lead <i>her</i>, to the hymeneal Fatherland’s Altar, in - such oversweet manner; and has, most thoughtlessly, to celebrate the - nuptials with due shine and demonstration,—burnt her bed? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"></a> - BOOK 2.II.<br/> - NANCI - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"></a> - Chapter 2.2.I.<br/> - Bouillé. - </h3> - - <p> - Dimly visible, at Metz on the North-Eastern frontier, a certain brave - Bouillé, last refuge of Royalty in all straits and meditations of flight, - has for many months hovered occasionally in our eye; some name or shadow - of a brave Bouillé: let us now, for a little, look fixedly at him, till - he become a substance and person for us. The man himself is worth a - glance; his position and procedure there, in these days, will throw light - on many things. - </p> - - <p> - For it is with Bouillé as with all French Commanding Officers; only in a - more emphatic degree. The grand National Federation, we already guess, - was but empty sound, or worse: a last loudest universal - <i>Hep-hep-hurrah</i>, with full bumpers, in that National Lapithae-feast - of Constitution-making; as in loud denial of the palpably existing; as - if, with hurrahings, you would shut out notice of the inevitable already - knocking at the gates! Which new National bumper, one may say, can but - deepen the drunkenness; and so, the <i>louder</i> it swears Brotherhood, - will the sooner and the more surely lead to Cannibalism. Ah, under that - fraternal shine and clangour, what a deep world of irreconcileable - discords lie momentarily assuaged, damped down for one moment! - Respectable military Federates have barely got home to their quarters; - and the inflammablest, “dying, burnt up with liquors, and kindness,” has - not yet got extinct; the shine is hardly out of men’s eyes, and still - blazes filling all men’s memories,—when your discords burst forth - again very considerably darker than ever. Let us look at Bouillé, and see - how. - </p> - - <p> - Bouillé for the present commands in the Garrison of Metz, and far and - wide over the East and North; being indeed, by a late act of Government - with sanction of National Assembly, appointed one of our Four supreme - Generals. Rochambeau and Mailly, men and Marshals of note in these days, - though to us of small moment, are two of his colleagues; tough old - babbling Lückner, also of small moment for us, will probably be the - third. Marquis de Bouillé is a determined Loyalist; not indeed - disinclined to moderate reform, but resolute against immoderate. A man - long suspect to Patriotism; who has more than once given the august - Assembly trouble; who would not, for example, take the National Oath, as - he was bound to do, but always put it off on this or the other pretext, - till an autograph of Majesty requested him to do it as a favour. There, - in this post if not of honour, yet of eminence and danger, he waits, in a - silent concentered manner; very dubious of the future. “Alone,” as he - says, or almost alone, of all the old military Notabilities, he has not - emigrated; but thinks always, in atrabiliar moments, that there will be - nothing for him too but to cross the marches. He might cross, say, to - Treves or Coblentz where Exiled Princes will be one day ranking; or say, - over into Luxemburg where old Broglie loiters and languishes. Or is there - not the great dim Deep of European Diplomacy; where your Calonnes, your - Bréteuils are beginning to hover, dimly discernible? - </p> - - <p> - With immeasurable confused outlooks and purposes, with no clear purpose - but this of still trying to do His Majesty a service, Bouillé waits; - struggling what he can to keep his district loyal, his troops faithful, - his garrisons furnished. He maintains, as yet, with his Cousin Lafayette, - some thin diplomatic correspondence, by letter and messenger; chivalrous - constitutional professions on the one side, military gravity and brevity - on the other; which thin correspondence one can see growing ever the - thinner and hollower, towards the verge of entire vacuity.<a - href="#linknote-305" name="linknoteref-305" - id="linknoteref-305">[305]</a> A quick, choleric, sharply discerning, - stubbornly endeavouring man; with suppressed-explosive resolution, with - valour, nay headlong audacity: a man who was more in his place, lionlike - defending those Windward Isles, or, as with military tiger-spring, - clutching Nevis and Montserrat from the English,—than here in this - suppressed condition, muzzled and fettered by diplomatic packthreads; - looking out for a civil war, which may never arrive. Few years ago - Bouillé was to have led a French East-Indian Expedition, and reconquered - or conquered Pondicherri and the Kingdoms of the Sun: but the whole world - is suddenly changed, and he with it; Destiny willed it not in that way - but in this. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"></a> - Chapter 2.2.II.<br/> - Arrears and Aristocrats. - </h3> - - <p> - Indeed, as to the general outlook of things, Bouillé himself augurs not - well of it. The French Army, ever since those old Bastille days, and - earlier, has been universally in the questionablest state, and growing - daily worse. Discipline, which is at all times a kind of miracle, and - works by faith, broke down then; one sees not with that near prospect of - recovering itself. The Gardes Françaises played a deadly game; but how - they won it, and wear the prizes of it, all men know. In that general - overturn, we saw the Hired Fighters refuse to fight. The very Swiss of - Château-Vieux, which indeed is a kind of French Swiss, from Geneva and - the Pays de Vaud, are understood to have declined. Deserters glided over; - Royal-Allemand itself looked disconsolate, though stanch of purpose. In a - word, we there saw <i>Military Rule</i>, in the shape of poor Besenval - with that convulsive unmanageable Camp of his, pass two martyr days on - the Champ-de-Mars; and then, veiling itself, so to speak, “under the - cloud of night,” depart “down the left bank of the Seine,” to seek refuge - elsewhere; <i>this</i> ground having clearly become too hot for it. - </p> - - <p> - But what new ground to seek, what remedy to try? Quarters that were - “uninfected:” this doubtless, with judicious strictness of drilling, were - the plan. Alas, in all quarters and places, from Paris onward to the - remotest hamlet, is infection, is seditious contagion: inhaled, - propagated by contact and converse, till the dullest soldier catch it! - There is speech of men in uniform with men not in uniform; men in uniform - read journals, and even write in them.<a href="#linknote-306" - name="linknoteref-306" id="linknoteref-306">[306]</a> There are public - petitions or remonstrances, private emissaries and associations; there is - discontent, jealousy, uncertainty, sullen suspicious humour. The whole - French Army, fermenting in dark heat, glooms ominous, boding good to no - one. - </p> - - <p> - So that, in the general social dissolution and revolt, we are to have - this deepest and dismallest kind of it, a revolting soldiery? Barren, - desolate to look upon is this same business of revolt under all its - aspects; but how infinitely more so, when it takes the aspect of military - mutiny! The very implement of rule and restraint, whereby all the rest - was managed and held in order, has become precisely the frightfullest - immeasurable implement of misrule; like the element of Fire, our - indispensable all-ministering servant, when it gets the <i>mastery</i>, - and becomes conflagration. Discipline we called a kind of miracle: in - fact, is it not miraculous how one man moves hundreds of thousands; each - unit of whom it may be loves him not, and singly fears him not, yet has - to obey him, to go hither or go thither, to march and halt, to give - death, and even to receive it, as if a Fate had spoken; and the - word-of-command becomes, almost in the literal sense, a magic-word? - </p> - - <p> - Which magic-word, again, if it be once <i>forgotten;</i> the spell of it - once broken! The legions of assiduous ministering spirits rise on you now - as menacing fiends; your free orderly arena becomes a tumult-place of the - Nether Pit, and the hapless magician is rent limb from limb. Military - mobs are mobs with muskets in their hands; and also with death hanging - over their heads, for death is the penalty of disobedience and they have - disobeyed. And now if all mobs are properly frenzies, and work - frenetically with mad fits of hot and of cold, fierce rage alternating so - incoherently with panic terror, consider what your military mob will be, - with such a conflict of duties and penalties, whirled between remorse and - fury, and, for the hot fit, loaded fire-arms in its hand! To the soldier - himself, revolt is frightful, and oftenest perhaps pitiable; and yet so - dangerous, it can only be hated, cannot be pitied. An anomalous class of - mortals these poor Hired Killers! With a frankness, which to the Moralist - in these times seems surprising, they have sworn to become machines; and - nevertheless they are still partly men. Let no prudent person in - authority remind them of this latter fact; but always let force, let - injustice above all, stop short clearly on <i>this</i> side of the - rebounding-point! Soldiers, as we often say, do revolt: were it not so, - several things which are transient in this world might be perennial. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Over and above the general quarrel which all sons of Adam maintain with - their lot here below, the grievances of the French soldiery reduce - themselves to two, First that their Officers are Aristocrats; secondly - that they cheat them of their Pay. Two grievances; or rather we might say - one, capable of becoming a hundred; for in that single first proposition, - that the Officers are Aristocrats, what a multitude of corollaries lie - ready! It is a bottomless ever-flowing fountain of grievances this; what - you may call a general raw-material of grievance, wherefrom individual - grievance after grievance will daily body itself forth. Nay there will - even be a kind of comfort in getting it, from time to time, so embodied. - Peculation of one’s Pay! It is embodied; made tangible, made - denounceable; exhalable, if only in angry words. - </p> - - <p> - For unluckily that grand fountain of grievances does exist: Aristocrats - almost all our Officers necessarily are; they have it in the blood and - bone. By the law of the case, no man can pretend to be the pitifullest - lieutenant of militia, till he have first verified, to the satisfaction - of the Lion-King, a Nobility of four generations. Not Nobility only, but - four generations of it: this latter is the improvement hit upon, in - comparatively late years, by a certain War-minister much pressed for - commissions.<a href="#linknote-307" name="linknoteref-307" - id="linknoteref-307">[307]</a> An improvement which did relieve the - over-pressed War-minister, but which split France still further into - yawning contrasts of Commonalty and Nobility, nay of new Nobility and - old; as if already with your new and old, and then with your old, older - and oldest, there were not contrasts and discrepancies enough;—the - general clash whereof men now see and hear, and in the singular - whirlpool, all contrasts gone together to the bottom! Gone to the bottom - or going; with uproar, without return; going every where save in the - Military section of things; and there, it may be asked, can they hope to - continue always at the top? Apparently, not. - </p> - - <p> - It is true, in a time of external Peace, when there is no fighting but - only drilling, this question, How you rise from the ranks, may seem - theoretical rather. But in reference to the Rights of Man it is - continually practical. The soldier has sworn to be faithful not to the - King only, but to the Law and the Nation. Do our commanders love the - Revolution? ask all soldiers. Unhappily no, they hate it, and love the - Counter-Revolution. Young epauletted men, with quality-blood in them, - poisoned with quality-pride, do sniff openly, with indignation struggling - to become contempt, at our Rights of Man, as at some newfangled cobweb, - which shall be brushed down again. Old officers, more cautious, keep - silent, with closed uncurled lips; but one guesses what is passing - within. Nay who knows, how, under the plausiblest word of command, might - lie Counter-Revolution itself, sale to Exiled Princes and the Austrian - Kaiser: treacherous Aristocrats hoodwinking the small insight of us - common men?—In such manner works that general raw-material of - grievance; disastrous; instead of trust and reverence, breeding hate, - endless suspicion, the impossibility of commanding and obeying. And now - when this second more tangible grievance has articulated itself - universally in the mind of the common man: Peculation of his Pay! - Peculation of the despicablest sort does exist, and has long existed; - but, unless the new-declared Rights of Man, and all rights whatsoever, be - a cobweb, it shall no longer exist. - </p> - - <p> - The French Military System seems dying a sorrowful suicidal death. Nay - more, citizen, as is natural, ranks himself against citizen in this - cause. The soldier finds audience, of numbers and sympathy unlimited, - among the Patriot lower-classes. Nor are the higher wanting to the - officer. The officer still dresses and perfumes himself for such sad - unemigrated <i>soirée</i> as there may still be; and speaks his - woes,—which woes, are they not Majesty’s and Nature’s? Speaks, at - the same time, his gay defiance, his firm-set resolution. Citizens, still - more Citizenesses, see the right and the wrong; not the Military System - alone will die by suicide, but much along with it. As was said, there is - yet possible a deepest overturn than any yet witnessed: that deepest - <i>up</i>turn of the black-burning sulphurous stratum whereon all rests - and grows! - </p> - - <p> - But how these things may act on the rude soldier-mind, with its military - pedantries, its inexperience of all that lies off the parade-ground; - inexperience as of a child, yet fierceness of a man and vehemence of a - Frenchman! It is long that secret communings in mess-room and guard-room, - sour looks, thousandfold petty vexations between commander and commanded, - measure every where the weary military day. Ask Captain Dampmartin; an - authentic, ingenious literary officer of horse; who loves the Reign of - Liberty, after a sort; yet has had his heart grieved to the quick many - times, in the hot South-Western region and elsewhere; and has seen riot, - civil battle by daylight and by torchlight, and anarchy hatefuller than - death. How insubordinate Troopers, with drink in their heads, meet - Captain Dampmartin and another on the ramparts, where there is no escape - or side-path; and make military salute punctually, for we look calm on - them; yet make it in a snappish, almost insulting manner: how one morning - they “leave all their chamois shirts” and superfluous buffs, which they - are tired of, laid in piles at the Captain’s doors; whereat “we laugh,” - as the ass does, eating thistles: nay how they “knot two forage-cords - together,” with universal noisy cursing, with evident intent to hang the - Quarter-master:—all this the worthy Captain, looking on it through - the ruddy-and-sable of fond regretful memory, has flowingly written - down.<a href="#linknote-308" name="linknoteref-308" - id="linknoteref-308">[308]</a> Men growl in vague discontent; officers - fling up their commissions, and emigrate in disgust. - </p> - - <p> - Or let us ask another literary Officer; not yet Captain; Sublieutenant - only, in the Artillery Regiment La Fère: a young man of twenty-one; not - unentitled to speak; the name of him is <i>Napoleon Buonaparte.</i> To - such height of Sublieutenancy has he now got promoted, from Brienne - School, five years ago; “being found qualified in mathematics by La - Place.” He is lying at Auxonne, in the West, in these months; not - sumptuously lodged—“in the house of a Barber, to whose wife he did - not pay the customary degree of respect;” or even over at the Pavilion, - in a chamber with bare walls; the only furniture an indifferent “bed - without curtains, two chairs, and in the recess of a window a table - covered with books and papers: his Brother Louis sleeps on a coarse - mattrass in an adjoining room.” However, he is doing something great: - writing his first Book or Pamphlet,—eloquent vehement <i>Letter to - M. Matteo Buttafuoco</i>, our Corsican Deputy, who is not a Patriot but - an Aristocrat, unworthy of Deputyship. Joly of Dôle is Publisher. The - literary Sublieutenant corrects the proofs; “sets out on foot from - Auxonne, every morning at four o’clock, for Dôle: after looking over the - proofs, he partakes of an extremely frugal breakfast with Joly, and - immediately prepares for returning to his Garrison; where he arrives - before noon, having thus walked above twenty miles in the course of the - morning.” - </p> - - <p> - This Sublieutenant can remark that, in drawing-rooms, on streets, on - highways, at inns, every where men’s minds are ready to kindle into a - flame. That a Patriot, if he appear in the drawing-room, or amid a group - of officers, is liable enough to be discouraged, so great is the majority - against him: but no sooner does he get into the street, or among the - soldiers, than he feels again as if the whole Nation were with him. That - after the famous Oath, <i>To the King, to the Nation and Law</i>, there - was a great change; that before this, if ordered to fire on the people, - he for one would have done it in the King’s name; but that after this, in - the Nation’s name, he would not have done it. Likewise that the Patriot - officers, more numerous too in the Artillery and Engineers than - elsewhere, were few in number; yet that having the soldiers on their - side, they ruled the regiment; and did often deliver the Aristocrat - brother officer out of peril and strait. One day, for example, “a member - of our own mess roused the mob, by singing, from the windows of our - dining-room, <i>O Richard, O my King;</i> and I had to snatch him from - their fury.”<a href="#linknote-309" name="linknoteref-309" - id="linknoteref-309">[309]</a> - </p> - - <p> - All which let the reader multiply by ten thousand; and spread it with - slight variations over all the camps and garrisons of France. The French - Army seems on the verge of universal mutiny. - </p> - - <p> - Universal mutiny! There is in that what may well make Patriot - Constitutionalism and an august Assembly shudder. Something behoves to be - done; yet what to do no man can tell. Mirabeau proposes even that the - Soldiery, having come to such a pass, be forthwith disbanded, the whole - Two Hundred and Eighty Thousands of them; and organised anew.<a - href="#linknote-310" name="linknoteref-310" - id="linknoteref-310">[310]</a> Impossible this, in so sudden a manner! - cry all men. And yet literally, answer we, it is inevitable, in one - manner or another. Such an Army, with its four-generation Nobles, its - Peculated Pay, and men knotting forage cords to hang their quartermaster, - cannot subsist beside such a Revolution. Your alternative is a - slow-pining chronic dissolution and new organization; or a swift decisive - one; the agonies spread over years, or concentrated into an hour. With a - Mirabeau for Minister or Governor the latter had been the choice; with no - Mirabeau for Governor it will naturally be the former. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"></a> - Chapter 2.2.III.<br/> - Bouillé at Metz. - </h3> - - <p> - To Bouillé, in his North-Eastern circle, none of these things are - altogether hid. Many times flight over the marches gleams out on him as a - last guidance in such bewilderment: nevertheless he continues here: - struggling always to hope the best, not from new organisation but from - happy Counter-Revolution and return to the old. For the rest it is clear - to him that this same National Federation, and universal swearing and - fraternising of People and Soldiers, has done “incalculable mischief.” So - much that fermented secretly has hereby got vent and become open: - National Guards and Soldiers of the line, solemnly embracing one another - on all parade-fields, drinking, swearing patriotic oaths, fall into - disorderly street-processions, constitutional unmilitary exclamations and - hurrahings. On which account the Regiment Picardie, for one, has to be - drawn out in the square of the barracks, here at Metz, and sharply - harangued by the General himself; but expresses penitence.<a - href="#linknote-311" name="linknoteref-311" - id="linknoteref-311">[311]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Far and near, as accounts testify, insubordination has begun grumbling - louder and louder. Officers have been seen shut up in their mess-rooms; - assaulted with clamorous demands, not without menaces. The insubordinate - ringleader is dismissed with “yellow furlough,” yellow infamous thing - they call <i>cartouche jaune:</i> but ten new ringleaders rise in his - stead, and the yellow <i>cartouche</i> ceases to be thought disgraceful. - “Within a fortnight,” or at furthest a month, of that sublime Feast of - Pikes, the whole French Army, demanding Arrears, forming Reading Clubs, - frequenting Popular Societies, is in a state which Bouillé can call by no - name but that of mutiny. Bouillé knows it as few do; and speaks by dire - experience. Take one instance instead of many. - </p> - - <p> - It is still an early day of August, the precise date now undiscoverable, - when Bouillé, about to set out for the waters of Aix la Chapelle, is once - more suddenly summoned to the barracks of Metz. The soldiers stand ranked - in fighting order, muskets loaded, the officers all there on compulsion; - and require, with many-voiced emphasis, to have their arrears paid. - Picardie was penitent; but we see it has relapsed: the wide space - bristles and lours with mere mutinous armed men. Brave Bouillé advances - to the nearest Regiment, opens his commanding lips to harangue; obtains - nothing but querulous-indignant discordance, and the sound of so many - thousand livres legally due. The moment is trying; there are some ten - thousand soldiers now in Metz, and one spirit seems to have spread among - them. - </p> - - <p> - Bouillé is firm as the adamant; but what shall he do? A German Regiment, - named of Salm, is thought to be of better temper: nevertheless Salm too - may have heard of the precept, <i>Thou shalt not steal;</i> Salm too may - know that money is money. Bouillé walks trustfully towards the Regiment - de Salm, speaks trustful words; but here again is answered by the cry of - forty-four thousand livres odd sous. A cry waxing more and more - vociferous, as Salm’s humour mounts; which cry, as it will produce no - cash or promise of cash, ends in the wide simultaneous whirr of - shouldered muskets, and a determined quick-time march on the part of - Salm—towards its Colonel’s house, in the next street, there to - seize the colours and military chest. Thus does Salm, for its part; - strong in the faith that <i>meum</i> is not <i>tuum</i>, that fair - speeches are not forty-four thousand livres odd sous. - </p> - - <p> - Unrestrainable! Salm tramps to military time, quick consuming the way. - Bouillé and the officers, drawing sword, have to dash into double quick - <i>pas-de-charge</i>, or unmilitary running; to get the start; to station - themselves on the outer staircase, and stand there with what of - death-defiance and sharp steel they have; Salm truculently coiling itself - up, rank after rank, opposite them, in such humour as we can fancy, which - happily has not yet mounted to the murder-pitch. There will Bouillé - stand, certain at least of <i>one</i> man’s purpose; in grim calmness, - awaiting the issue. What the intrepidest of men and generals can do is - done. Bouillé, though there is a barricading picket at each end of the - street, and death under his eyes, contrives to send for a Dragoon - Regiment with orders to charge: the dragoon officers mount; the dragoon - men will not: hope is none there for him. The street, as we say, - barricaded; the Earth all shut out, only the indifferent heavenly Vault - overhead: perhaps here or there a timorous householder peering out of - window, with prayer for Bouillé; copious Rascality, on the pavement, with - prayer for Salm: there do the two parties stand;—like chariots - locked in a narrow thoroughfare; like locked wrestlers at a dead-grip! - For two hours they stand; Bouillé’s sword glittering in his hand, - adamantine resolution clouding his brows: for two hours by the clocks of - Metz. Moody-silent stands Salm, with occasional clangour; but does not - fire. Rascality from time to time urges some grenadier to level his - musket at the General; who looks on it as a bronze General would; and - always some corporal or other strikes it up. - </p> - - <p> - In such remarkable attitude, standing on that staircase for two hours, - does brave Bouillé, long a shadow, dawn on us visibly out of the dimness, - and become a person. For the rest, since Salm has not shot him at the - first instant, and since in himself there is no variableness, the danger - will diminish. The Mayor, “a man infinitely respectable,” with his - Municipals and tricolor sashes, finally gains entrance; remonstrates, - perorates, promises; gets Salm persuaded home to its barracks. Next day, - our respectable Mayor lending the money, the officers pay down the - <i>half</i> of the demand in ready cash. With which liquidation Salm - pacifies itself, and for the present all is hushed up, as much as may - be.<a href="#linknote-312" name="linknoteref-312" - id="linknoteref-312">[312]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Such scenes as this of Metz, or preparations and demonstrations towards - such, are universal over France: Dampmartin, with his knotted - forage-cords and piled chamois jackets, is at Strasburg in the - South-East; in these same days or rather nights, Royal Champagne is - “shouting <i>Vive la Nation, au diable les Aristocrates</i>, with some - thirty lit candles,” at Hesdin, on the far North-West. ‘The garrison of - Bitche,’ Deputy Rewbell is sorry to state, ‘went out of the town, with - drums beating; deposed its officers; and then returned into the town, - sabre in hand.’<a href="#linknote-313" name="linknoteref-313" - id="linknoteref-313">[313]</a> Ought not a National Assembly to occupy - itself with these objects? Military France is everywhere full of sour - inflammatory humour, which exhales itself fuliginously, this way or that: - a whole continent of smoking flax; which, blown on here or there by any - angry wind, might so easily start into a blaze, into a continent of fire! - </p> - - <p> - Constitutional Patriotism is in deep natural alarm at these things. The - august Assembly sits diligently deliberating; dare nowise resolve, with - Mirabeau, on an instantaneous disbandment and extinction; finds that a - course of palliatives is easier. But at least and lowest, this grievance - of the Arrears shall be rectified. A plan, much noised of in those days, - under the name “Decree of the Sixth of August,” has been devised for - that. Inspectors shall visit all armies; and, with certain elected - corporals and “soldiers able to write,” verify what arrears and - peculations do lie due, and make them good. Well, if in this way the - smoky heat be cooled down; if it be not, as we say, ventilated over-much, - or, by sparks and collision somewhere, sent <i>up!</i> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"></a> - Chapter 2.2.IV.<br/> - Arrears at Nanci. - </h3> - - <p> - We are to remark, however, that of all districts, this of Bouillé’s seems - the inflammablest. It was always to Bouillé and Metz that Royalty would - fly: Austria lies near; here more than elsewhere must the disunited - People look over the borders, into a dim sea of Foreign Politics and - Diplomacies, with hope or apprehension, with mutual exasperation. - </p> - - <p> - It was but in these days that certain Austrian troops, marching peaceably - across an angle of this region, seemed an Invasion realised; and there - rushed towards Stenai, with musket on shoulder, from all the winds, some - thirty thousand National Guards, to inquire what the matter was.<a - href="#linknote-314" name="linknoteref-314" - id="linknoteref-314">[314]</a> A matter of mere diplomacy it proved; the - Austrian Kaiser, in haste to get to Belgium, had bargained for this short - cut. The infinite dim movement of European Politics waved a skirt over - these spaces, passing on its way; like the passing shadow of a condor; - and such a winged flight of thirty thousand, with mixed cackling and - crowing, rose in consequence! For, in addition to all, this people, as we - said, is much divided: Aristocrats abound; Patriotism has both - Aristocrats and Austrians to watch. It is Lorraine, this region; not so - illuminated as old France: it remembers ancient Feudalisms; nay, within - man’s memory, it had a Court and King of its own, or indeed the splendour - of a Court and King, without the burden. Then, contrariwise, the Mother - Society, which sits in the Jacobins Church at Paris, has Daughters in the - Towns here; shrill-tongued, driven acrid: consider how the memory of good - King Stanislaus, and ages of Imperial Feudalism, may comport with this - New acrid Evangel, and what a virulence of discord there may be! In all - which, the Soldiery, officers on one side, private men on the other, - takes part, and now indeed principal part; a Soldiery, moreover, all the - hotter here as it lies the denser, the frontier Province requiring more - of it. - </p> - - <p> - So stands Lorraine: but the capital City, more especially so. The - pleasant City of Nanci, which faded Feudalism loves, where King - Stanislaus personally dwelt and shone, has an Aristocrat Municipality, - and then also a Daughter Society: it has some forty thousand divided - souls of population; and three large Regiments, one of which is Swiss - Château-Vieux, dear to Patriotism ever since it refused fighting, or was - thought to refuse, in the Bastille days. Here unhappily all evil - influences seem to meet concentered; here, of all places, may jealousy - and heat evolve itself. These many months, accordingly, man has been set - against man, Washed against Unwashed; Patriot Soldier against Aristocrat - Captain, ever the more bitterly; and a long score of grudges has been - running up. - </p> - - <p> - Nameable grudges, and likewise unnameable: for there is a punctual nature - in Wrath; and daily, were there but glances of the eye, tones of the - voice, and minutest commissions or omissions, it will jot down somewhat, - to account, under the head of sundries, which always swells the - sum-total. For example, in April last, in those times of preliminary - Federation, when National Guards and Soldiers were every where swearing - brotherhood, and all France was locally federating, preparing for the - grand National Feast of Pikes, it was observed that these Nanci Officers - threw cold water on the whole brotherly business; that they first hung - back from appearing at the Nanci Federation; then did appear, but in mere - <i>rédingote</i> and undress, with scarcely a clean shirt on; nay that - one of them, as the National Colours flaunted by in that solemn moment, - did, without visible necessity, take occasion to <i>spit</i>.<a - href="#linknote-315" name="linknoteref-315" - id="linknoteref-315">[315]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Small “sundries as per journal,” but then incessant ones! The Aristocrat - Municipality, pretending to be Constitutional, keeps mostly quiet; not so - the Daughter Society, the five thousand adult male Patriots of the place, - still less the five thousand female: not so the young, whiskered or - whiskerless, four-generation Noblesse in epaulettes; the grim Patriot - Swiss of Château-Vieux, effervescent infantry of Regiment du Roi, hot - troopers of Mestre-de-Camp! Walled Nanci, which stands so bright and - trim, with its straight streets, spacious squares, and Stanislaus’ - Architecture, on the fruitful alluvium of the Meurthe; so bright, amid - the yellow cornfields in these Reaper-Months,—is inwardly but a den - of discord, anxiety, inflammability, not far from exploding. Let Bouillé - look to it. If that universal military heat, which we liken to a vast - continent of smoking flax, do any where take fire, his beard, here in - Lorraine and Nanci, may the most readily of all get singed by it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Bouillé, for his part, is busy enough, but only with the general - superintendence; getting his pacified Salm, and all other still tolerable - Regiments, marched out of Metz, to southward towns and villages; to rural - Cantonments as at Vic, Marsal and thereabout, by the still waters; where - is plenty of horse-forage, sequestered parade-ground, and the soldier’s - speculative faculty can be stilled by drilling. Salm, as we said, - received only half payment of arrears; naturally not without grumbling. - Nevertheless that scene of the drawn sword may, after all, have raised - Bouillé in the mind of Salm; for men and soldiers love intrepidity and - swift inflexible decision, even when they suffer by it. As indeed is not - this fundamentally the quality of qualities for a man? A quality which by - itself is next to nothing, since inferior animals, asses, dogs, even - mules have it; yet, in due combination, it is the indispensable basis of - all. - </p> - - <p> - Of Nanci and its heats, Bouillé, commander of the whole, knows nothing - special; understands generally that the troops in that City are perhaps - the <i>worst</i>.<a href="#linknote-316" name="linknoteref-316" - id="linknoteref-316">[316]</a> The Officers there have it all, as they - have long had it, to themselves; and unhappily seem to manage it ill. - “Fifty yellow furloughs,” given out in one batch, do surely betoken - difficulties. But what was Patriotism to think of certain light-fencing - Fusileers “set on,” or supposed to be set on, “to insult the - Grenadier-club,” considerate speculative Grenadiers, and that - reading-room of theirs? With shoutings, with hootings; till the - speculative Grenadier drew his side-arms too; and there ensued battery - and duels! Nay more, are not swashbucklers of the same stamp “sent out” - visibly, or sent out presumably, now in the dress of Soldiers to pick - quarrels with the Citizens; now, disguised as Citizens, to pick quarrels - with the Soldiers? For a certain Roussière, expert in fence, was taken in - the very fact; four Officers (presumably of tender years) hounding him - on, who thereupon fled precipitately! Fence-master Roussière, haled to - the guardhouse, had sentence of three months’ imprisonment: but his - comrades demanded “yellow furlough” for <i>him</i> of all persons; nay, - thereafter they produced him on parade; capped him in paper-helmet - inscribed, <i>Iscariot;</i> marched him to the gate of City; and there - sternly commanded him to vanish for evermore. - </p> - - <p> - On all which suspicions, accusations and noisy procedure, and on enough - of the like continually accumulating, the Officer could not but look with - disdainful indignation; perhaps disdainfully express the same in words, - and “soon after fly over to the Austrians.” - </p> - - <p> - So that when it here as elsewhere comes to the question of Arrears, the - humour and procedure is of the bitterest: Regiment Mestre-de-Camp - getting, amid loud clamour, some three gold louis a-man,—which - have, as usual, to be borrowed from the Municipality; Swiss Château-Vieux - applying for the like, but getting instead instantaneous <i>courrois</i>, - or cat-o’-nine-tails, with subsequent unsufferable hisses from the women - and children; Regiment du Roi, sick of hope deferred, at length seizing - its military chest, and marching it to quarters, but next day marching it - back again, through streets all struck silent:—unordered paradings - and clamours, not without strong liquor; objurgation, insubordination; - your military ranked Arrangement going all (as the Typographers say of - set types, in a similar case) rapidly <i>to pie!</i><a - href="#linknote-317" name="linknoteref-317" - id="linknoteref-317">[317]</a> Such is Nanci in these early days of - August; the sublime Feast of Pikes not yet a month old. - </p> - - <p> - Constitutional Patriotism, at Paris and elsewhere, may well quake at the - news. War-Minister Latour du Pin runs breathless to the National - Assembly, with a written message that “all is burning, <i>tout brûle, - tout presse</i>.” The National Assembly, on spur of the instant, renders - such <i>Decret</i>, and “order to submit and repent,” as he requires; if - it will avail any thing. On the other hand, Journalism, through all its - throats, gives hoarse outcry, condemnatory, elegiac-applausive. The - Forty-eight Sections, lift up voices; sonorous Brewer, or call him now - <i>Colonel</i> Santerre, is not silent, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. - For, meanwhile, the Nanci Soldiers have sent a Deputation of Ten, - furnished with documents and proofs; who will tell another story than the - “all-is-burning” one. Which deputed Ten, before ever they reach the - Assembly Hall, assiduous Latour du Pin picks up, and on warrant of Mayor - Bailly, claps in prison! Most unconstitutionally; for they had officers’ - furloughs. Whereupon Saint-Antoine, in indignant uncertainty of the - future, closes its shops. Is Bouillé a traitor then, sold to Austria? In - that case, these poor private sentinels have revolted mainly out of - Patriotism? - </p> - - <p> - New Deputation, Deputation of National Guardsmen now, sets forth from - Nanci to enlighten the Assembly. It meets the old deputed Ten returning, - quite unexpectedly <i>un</i>hanged; and proceeds thereupon with better - prospects; but effects nothing. Deputations, Government Messengers, - Orderlies at hand-gallops, Alarms, thousand-voiced Rumours, go vibrating - continually; backwards and forwards,—scattering distraction. Not - till the last week of August does M. de Malseigne, selected as Inspector, - get down to the scene of mutiny; with Authority, with cash, and “Decree - of the Sixth of August.” He now shall see these Arrears liquidated, - justice done, or at least tumult quashed. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"></a> - Chapter 2.2.V.<br/> - Inspector Malseigne. - </h3> - - <p> - Of Inspector Malseigne we discern, by direct light, that he is “of - Herculean stature;” and infer, with probability, that he is of truculent - moustachioed aspect,—for <i>Royalist</i> Officers now leave the - upper lip unshaven; that he is of indomitable bull-heart; and also, - unfortunately, of thick bull-head. - </p> - - <p> - On Tuesday the 24th of August, 1790, he opens session as Inspecting - Commissioner; meets those “elected corporals, and soldiers that can - write.” He finds the accounts of Château-Vieux to be complex; to require - delay and reference: he takes to haranguing, to reprimanding; ends amid - audible grumbling. Next morning, he resumes session, not at the Townhall - as prudent Municipals counselled, but once more at the barracks. - Unfortunately Château-Vieux, grumbling all night, will now hear of no - delay or reference; from reprimanding on his part, it goes to - bullying,—answered with continual cries of ‘<i>Jugez tout de - suite</i>, Judge it at once;’ whereupon M. de Malseigne will off in a - huff. But lo, Château Vieux, swarming all about the barrack-court, has - sentries at every gate; M. de Malseigne, demanding egress, cannot get it, - though Commandant Denoue backs him; can get only ‘<i>Jugez tout de - suite</i>.’ Here is a nodus! - </p> - - <p> - Bull-hearted M. de Malseigne draws his sword; and will force egress. - Confused splutter. M. de Malseigne’s sword breaks; he snatches Commandant - Denoue’s: the sentry is wounded. M. de Malseigne, whom one is loath to - kill, does force egress,—followed by Château-Vieux all in disarray; - a spectacle to Nanci. M. de Malseigne walks at a sharp pace, yet never - runs; wheeling from time to time, with menaces and movements of fence; - and so reaches Denoue’s house, unhurt; which house Château-Vieux, in an - agitated manner, invests,—hindered as yet from entering, by a crowd - of officers formed on the staircase. M. de Malseigne retreats by back - ways to the Townhall, flustered though undaunted; amid an escort of - National Guards. From the Townhall he, on the morrow, emits fresh orders, - fresh plans of settlement with Château-Vieux; to none of which will - Château-Vieux listen: whereupon finally he, amid noise enough, emits - order that Château-Vieux shall march on the morrow morning, and quarter - at Sarre Louis. Château-Vieux flatly refuses marching; M. de Malseigne - “takes <i>act</i>,” due notarial protest, of such refusal,—if - happily that may avail him. - </p> - - <p> - This is end of Thursday; and, indeed, of M. de Malseigne’s Inspectorship, - which has lasted some fifty hours. To such length, in fifty hours, has he - unfortunately brought it. Mestre-de-Camp and Regiment du Roi hang, as it - were, fluttering: Château-Vieux is clean gone, in what way we see. Over - night, an Aide-de-Camp of Lafayette’s, stationed here for such emergency, - sends swift emissaries far and wide, to summon National Guards. The - slumber of the country is broken by clattering hoofs, by loud fraternal - knockings; every where the Constitutional Patriot must clutch his - fighting-gear, and take the road for Nanci. - </p> - - <p> - And thus the Herculean Inspector has sat all Thursday, among - terror-struck Municipals, a centre of confused noise: all Thursday, - Friday, and till Saturday towards noon. Château-Vieux, in spite of the - notarial protest, will not march a step. As many as four thousand - National Guards are dropping or pouring in; uncertain what is expected of - them, still more uncertain what will be obtained of them. For all is - uncertainty, commotion, and suspicion: there goes a word that Bouillé, - beginning to bestir himself in the rural Cantonments eastward, is but a - Royalist traitor; that Château-Vieux and Patriotism are sold to Austria, - of which latter M. de Malseigne is probably some agent. Mestre-de-Camp - and Roi flutter still more questionably: Château-Vieux, far from - marching, “waves red flags out of two carriages,” in a passionate manner, - along the streets; and next morning answers its Officers: ‘Pay us, then; - and we will march with you to the world’s end!’ - </p> - - <p> - Under which circumstances, towards noon on Saturday, M. de Malseigne - thinks it were good perhaps to inspect the ramparts,—on horseback. - He mounts, accordingly, with escort of three troopers. At the gate of the - city, he bids two of them wait for his return; and with the third, a - trooper to be depended upon, he—gallops off for Lunéville; where - lies a certain Carabineer Regiment not yet in a mutinous state! The two - left troopers soon get uneasy; discover how it is, and give the alarm. - Mestre-de-Camp, to the number of a hundred, saddles in frantic haste, as - if sold to Austria; gallops out pellmell in chase of its Inspector. And - so they spur, and the Inspector spurs; careering, with noise and jingle, - up the valley of the River Meurthe, towards Lunéville and the midday sun: - through an astonished country; indeed almost their own astonishment. - </p> - - <p> - What a hunt, Actæon-like;—which Actæon de Malseigne happily - <i>gains.</i> To arms, ye Carabineers of Lunéville: to chastise mutinous - men, insulting your General Officer, insulting your own - quarters;—above all things, fire <i>soon</i>, lest there be - parleying and ye refuse to fire! The Carabineers fire soon, exploding - upon the first stragglers of Mestre-de-Camp; who shrink at the very - flash, and fall back hastily on Nanci, in a state not far from - distraction. Panic and fury: sold to Austria without an <i>if;</i> so - much per regiment, the very sums can be specified; and traitorous - Malseigne is fled! Help, O Heaven; help, thou Earth,—ye unwashed - Patriots; ye too are sold like us! - </p> - - <p> - Effervescent Regiment du Roi primes its firelocks, Mestre-de-Camp saddles - wholly: Commandant Denoue is seized, is flung in prison with a “canvass - shirt” (<i>sarreau de toile</i>) about him; Château-Vieux bursts up the - magazines; distributes “three thousand fusils” to a Patriot people: - Austria shall have a hot bargain. Alas, the unhappy hunting-dogs, as we - said, have <i>hunted away</i> their huntsman; and do now run howling and - baying, on what trail they know not; nigh rabid! - </p> - - <p> - And so there is tumultuous march of men, through the night; with halt on - the heights of Flinval, whence Lunéville can be seen all illuminated. - Then there is parley, at four in the morning; and reparley; finally there - is agreement: the Carabineers give in; Malseigne is surrendered, with - apologies on all sides. After weary confused hours, he is even got under - way; the Lunévillers all turning out, in the idle Sunday, to see such - departure: home-going of mutinous Mestre-de-Camp with its Inspector - captive. Mestre-de-Camp accordingly marches; the Lunévillers look. See! - at the corner of the first street, our Inspector bounds off again, - bull-hearted as he is; amid the slash of sabres, the crackle of musketry; - and escapes, full gallop, with only a ball lodged in his - buff-<i>jerkin</i>. The Herculean man! And yet it is an escape to no - purpose. For the Carabineers, to whom after the hardest Sunday’s ride on - record, he has come circling back, “stand deliberating by their nocturnal - watch-fires;” deliberating of Austria, of traitors, and the rage of - Mestre-de-Camp. So that, on the whole, the next sight we have is that of - M. de Malseigne, on the Monday afternoon, faring bull-hearted through the - streets of Nanci; in open carriage, a soldier standing over him with - drawn sword; amid the “furies of the women,” hedges of National Guards, - and confusion of Babel: to the Prison beside Commandant Denoue! That - finally is the lodging of Inspector Malseigne.<a href="#linknote-318" - name="linknoteref-318" id="linknoteref-318">[318]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Surely it is time Bouillé were drawing near. The Country all round, - alarmed with watchfires, illuminated towns, and marching and rout, has - been sleepless these several nights. Nanci, with its uncertain National - Guards, with its distributed fusils, mutinous soldiers, black panic and - redhot ire, is not a City but a Bedlam. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068"></a> - Chapter 2.2.VI.<br/> - Bouillé at Nanci. - </h3> - - <p> - Haste with help, thou brave Bouillé: if swift help come not, all is now - verily “burning;” and may burn,—to what lengths and breadths! Much, - in these hours, depends on Bouillé; as it shall now fare with him, the - whole Future may be this way or be that. If, for example, he were to - loiter dubitating, and not come: if he were to come, and fail: the whole - Soldiery of France to blaze into mutiny, National Guards going some this - way, some that; and Royalism to draw its rapier, and Sansculottism to - snatch its pike; and the Spirit if Jacobinism, as yet young, girt with - sun-rays, to grow instantaneously mature, girt with hell-fire,—as - mortals, in one night of deadly crisis, have had their heads turned gray! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Brave Bouillé is advancing fast, with the old inflexibility; gathering - himself, unhappily “in small affluences,” from East, from West and North; - and now on Tuesday morning, the last day of the month, he stands all - concentred, unhappily still in small force, at the village of Frouarde, - within some few miles. Son of Adam with a more dubious task before him is - not in the world this Tuesday morning. A weltering inflammable sea of - doubt and peril, and Bouillé sure of simply one thing, his own - determination. Which one thing, indeed, may be worth many. He puts a most - firm face on the matter: “Submission, or unsparing battle and - destruction; twenty-four hours to make your choice:” this was the tenor - of his Proclamation; thirty copies of which he sent yesterday to - Nanci:—all which, we find, were intercepted and not posted.<a - href="#linknote-319" name="linknoteref-319" - id="linknoteref-319">[319]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless, at half-past eleven, this morning, seemingly by way of - answer, there does wait on him at Frouarde, some Deputation from the - mutinous Regiments, from the Nanci Municipals, to see what can be done. - Bouillé receives this Deputation, “in a large open court adjoining his - lodging:” pacified Salm, and the rest, attend also, being invited to do - it,—all happily still in the right humour. The Mutineers pronounce - themselves with a decisiveness, which to Bouillé seems insolence; and - happily to Salm also. Salm, forgetful of the Metz staircase and sabre, - demands that the scoundrels “be hanged” there and then. Bouillé represses - the hanging; but answers that mutinous Soldiers have one course, and not - more than one: To liberate, with heartfelt contrition, Messieurs Denoue - and de Malseigne; to get ready forthwith for marching off, whither he - shall order; and “submit and repent,” as the National Assembly has - decreed, as he yesterday did in thirty printed Placards proclaim. These - are his terms, unalterable as the decrees of Destiny. Which terms as - they, the Mutineer deputies, seemingly do not accept, it were good for - them to vanish from this spot, and even promptly; with him too, in few - instants, the word will be, Forward! The Mutineer deputies vanish, not - unpromptly; the Municipal ones, anxious beyond right for their own - individualities, prefer abiding with Bouillé. - </p> - - <p> - Brave Bouillé, though he puts a most firm face on the matter, knows his - position full well: how at Nanci, what with rebellious soldiers, with - uncertain National Guards, and so many distributed fusils, there rage and - roar some ten thousand fighting men; while with himself is scarcely the - third part of that number, in National Guards also uncertain, in mere - pacified Regiments,—for the present full of rage, and clamour to - march; but whose rage and clamour may next moment take such a fatal new - figure. On the top of one uncertain billow, therewith to calm billows! - Bouillé must “abandon himself to Fortune;” who is said sometimes to - favour the brave. At half-past twelve, the Mutineer deputies having - vanished, our drums beat; we march: for Nanci! Let Nanci bethink itself, - then; for Bouillé has thought and determined. - </p> - - <p> - And yet how shall Nanci think: not a City but a Bedlam! Grim - Château-Vieux is for defence to the death; forces the Municipality to - order, by tap of drum, all citizens acquainted with artillery to turn - out, and assist in managing the cannon. On the other hand, effervescent - Regiment du Roi, is drawn up in its barracks; quite disconsolate, hearing - the humour Salm is in; and ejaculates dolefully from its thousand - throats: ‘<i>La loi, la loi</i>, Law, law!’ Mestre-de-Camp blusters, with - profane swearing, in mixed terror and furor; National Guards look this - way and that, not knowing what to do. What a Bedlam-City: as many plans - as heads; all ordering, none obeying: quiet none,—except the Dead, - who sleep underground, having <i>done</i> their fighting! - </p> - - <p> - And, behold, Bouillé proves as good as his word: “at half-past two” - scouts report that he is within half a league of the gates; rattling - along, with cannon, and array; breathing nothing but destruction. A new - Deputation, Municipals, Mutineers, Officers, goes out to meet him; with - passionate entreaty for yet one other hour. Bouillé grants an hour. Then, - at the end thereof, no Denoue or Malseigne appearing as promised, he - rolls his drums, and again takes the road. Towards four o’clock, the - terror-struck Townsmen may see him face to face. His cannons rattle - there, in their carriages; his vanguard is within thirty paces of the - Gate Stanislaus. Onward like a Planet, by appointed times, by law of - Nature! What next? Lo, flag of truce and chamade; conjuration to halt: - Malseigne and Denoue are on the street, coming hither; the soldiers all - repentant, ready to submit and march! Adamantine Bouillé’s look alters - not; yet the word <i>Halt</i> is given: gladder moment he never saw. Joy - of joys! Malseigne and Denoue do verily issue; escorted by National - Guards; from streets all frantic, with sale to Austria and so forth: they - salute Bouillé, unscathed. Bouillé steps aside to speak with them, and - with other heads of the Town there; having already ordered by what Gates - and Routes the mutineer Regiments shall file out. - </p> - - <p> - Such colloquy with these two General Officers and other principal - Townsmen, was natural enough; nevertheless one wishes Bouillé had - postponed it, and <i>not</i> stepped aside. Such tumultuous inflammable - masses, tumbling along, making way for each other; this of keen nitrous - oxide, that of sulphurous fire-damp,—were it not well to stand - <i>between</i> them, keeping them well separate, till the space be - cleared? Numerous stragglers of Château-Vieux and the rest have not - marched with their main columns, which are filing out by the appointed - Gates, taking station in the open meadows. National Guards are in a state - of nearly distracted uncertainty; the populace, armed and unharmed, roll - openly delirious,—betrayed, sold to the Austrians, sold to the - Aristocrats. There are loaded cannon with lit matches among them, and - Bouillé’s vanguard is halted within thirty paces of the Gate. Command - dwells not in that mad inflammable mass; which smoulders and tumbles - there, in blind smoky rage; which will not open the Gate when summoned; - says it will open the cannon’s throat sooner!—Cannonade not, O - Friends, or be it through my body! cries heroic young Desilles, young - Captain of <i>Roi</i>, clasping the murderous engine in his arms, and - holding it. Château-Vieux Swiss, by main force, with oaths and menaces, - wrench off the heroic youth; who undaunted, amid still louder oaths seats - himself on the touch-hole. Amid still louder oaths; with ever louder - clangour,—and, alas, with the loud crackle of first one, and then - three other muskets; which explode into his body; which roll <i>it</i> in - the dust,—and do also, in the loud madness of such moment, bring - lit cannon-match to ready priming; and so, with one thunderous belch of - grapeshot, blast some fifty of Bouillé’s vanguard into air! - </p> - - <p> - Fatal! That sputter of the first musket-shot has kindled such a - cannon-shot, such a death-blaze; and all is now redhot madness, - conflagration as of Tophet. With demoniac rage, the Bouillé vanguard - storms through that Gate Stanislaus; with fiery sweep, sweeps Mutiny - clear away, to death, or into shelters and cellars; from which latter, - again, Mutiny continues firing. The ranked Regiments hear it in their - meadow; they rush back again through the nearest Gates; Bouillé gallops - in, distracted, inaudible;—and now has begun, in Nanci, as in that - doomed Hall of the Nibelungen, “a murder grim and great.” - </p> - - <p> - Miserable: such scene of dismal aimless madness as the anger of Heaven - but rarely permits among men! From cellar or from garret, from open - street in front, from successive corners of cross-streets on each hand, - Château-Vieux and Patriotism keep up the murderous rolling-fire, on - murderous not Unpatriotic fires. Your blue National Captain, riddled with - balls, one hardly knows on whose side fighting, requests to be laid on - the colours to die: the patriotic Woman (name not given, deed surviving) - screams to Château-Vieux that it must <i>not</i> fire the other cannon; - and even flings a pail of water on it, since screaming avails not.<a - href="#linknote-320" name="linknoteref-320" - id="linknoteref-320">[320]</a> Thou shalt fight; thou shalt not fight; - and with whom shalt thou fight! Could tumult awaken the old Dead, - Burgundian Charles the Bold might stir from under that Rotunda of his: - never since he, raging, sank in the ditches, and lost Life and Diamond, - was such a noise heard here. - </p> - - <p> - Three thousand, as some count, lie mangled, gory; the half of - Château-Vieux has been shot, without need of Court Martial. Cavalry, of - Mestre-de-Camp or their foes, can do little. Regiment du Roi was - persuaded to its barracks; stands there palpitating. Bouillé, armed with - the terrors of the Law, and favoured of Fortune, finally triumphs. In two - murderous hours he has penetrated to the grand Squares, dauntless, though - with loss of forty officers and five hundred men: the shattered remnants - of Château-Vieux are seeking covert. Regiment du Roi, not effervescent - now, alas no, but <i>having</i> effervesced, will offer to ground its - arms; will “march in a quarter of an hour.” Nay these poor effervesced - require “escort” to march with, and get it; though they are thousands - strong, and have thirty ball-cartridges a man! The Sun is not yet down, - when Peace, which might have come bloodless, has come bloody: the - mutinous Regiments are on march, doleful, on their three Routes; and from - Nanci rises wail of women and men, the voice of weeping and desolation; - the City weeping for its slain who awaken not. These streets are empty - but for victorious patrols. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus has Fortune, favouring the brave, dragged Bouillé, as himself says, - out of such a frightful peril, “by the hair of the head.” An intrepid - adamantine man this Bouillé:—had <i>he</i> stood in old Broglie’s - place, in those Bastille days, it might have been all different! He has - extinguished mutiny, and immeasurable civil war. Not for nothing, as we - see; yet at a rate which he and Constitutional Patriotism considers - cheap. Nay, as for Bouillé, he, urged by subsequent contradiction which - arose, declares coldly, it was rather against his own private mind, and - more by public military rule of duty, that he did extinguish it,<a - href="#linknote-321" name="linknoteref-321" - id="linknoteref-321">[321]</a>—immeasurable civil war being now the - only chance. Urged, we say, by subsequent contradiction! Civil war, - indeed, is Chaos; and in all vital Chaos, there is new Order shaping - itself free: but what a faith this, that of all new Orders out of Chaos - and Possibility of Man and his Universe, Louis Sixteenth and Two-Chamber - Monarchy were precisely the one that would shape itself! It is like - undertaking to throw deuce-ace, say only five hundred successive times, - and any other throw to be fatal—for Bouillé. Rather thank Fortune, - and Heaven, always, thou intrepid Bouillé; and let contradiction of its - way! Civil war, conflagrating universally over France at this moment, - might have led to one thing or to another thing: meanwhile, to - <i>quench</i> conflagration, wheresoever one finds it, wheresoever one - can; this, in all times, is the rule for man and General Officer. - </p> - - <p> - But at Paris, so agitated and divided, fancy how it went, when the - continually vibrating Orderlies vibrated <i>thither</i> at hand gallop, - with such questionable news! High is the gratulation; and also deep the - indignation. An august Assembly, by overwhelming majorities, passionately - thanks Bouillé; a King’s autograph, the voices of all Loyal, all - Constitutional men run to the same tenor. A solemn National - funeral-service, for the Law-defenders slain at Nanci; is said and sung - in the Champ de Mars; Bailly, Lafayette and National Guards, all except - the few that protested, assist. With pomp and circumstance, with - episcopal Calicoes in tricolor girdles, Altar of Fatherland smoking with - cassolettes, or incense-kettles; the vast Champ-de-Mars wholly hung round - with black mortcloth,—which mortcloth and expenditure Marat thinks - had better have been laid out in bread, in these dear days, and given to - the hungry living Patriot.<a href="#linknote-322" name="linknoteref-322" - id="linknoteref-322">[322]</a> On the other hand, living Patriotism, and - Saint-Antoine, which we have seen noisily closing its shops and such - like, assembles now “to the number of forty thousand;” and, with loud - cries, under the very windows of the thanking National Assembly, demands - revenge for murdered Brothers, judgment on Bouillé, and instant dismissal - of War-Minister Latour du Pin. - </p> - - <p> - At sound and sight of which things, if not War-Minister Latour, yet - “Adored Minister” Necker, sees good on the 3d of September 1790, to - withdraw softly almost privily,—with an eye to the “recovery of his - health.” Home to native Switzerland; not as he last came; lucky to reach - it alive! Fifteen months ago, we saw him coming, with escort of horse, - with sound of clarion and trumpet: and now at Arcis-sur-Aube, while he - departs unescorted soundless, the Populace and Municipals stop him as a - fugitive, are not unlike massacring him as a traitor; the National - Assembly, consulted on the matter, gives him free egress as a nullity. - Such an unstable “drift-mould of Accident” is the substance of this lower - world, for them that dwell in houses of clay; so, especially in hot - regions and times, do the proudest palaces we build of it take wings, and - become Sahara sand-palaces, spinning many pillared in the whirlwind, and - bury us under their sand!— - </p> - - <p> - In spite of the forty thousand, the National Assembly persists in its - thanks; and Royalist Latour du Pin continues Minister. The forty thousand - assemble next day, as loud as ever; roll towards Latour’s Hôtel; find - cannon on the porch-steps with flambeau lit; and have to retire - elsewhither, and digest their spleen, or re-absorb it into the blood. - </p> - - <p> - Over in Lorraine, meanwhile, they of the distributed fusils, ringleaders - of Mestre-de-Camp, of Roi, have got marked out for judgment;—yet - shall never get judged. Briefer is the doom of Château-Vieux. - Château-Vieux is, by Swiss law, given up for instant trial in - Court-Martial of its own officers. Which Court-Martial, with all brevity - (in not many hours), has hanged some Twenty-three, on conspicuous - gibbets; marched some Three-score in chains to the Galleys; and so, to - appearance, finished the matter off. Hanged men do cease for ever from - this Earth; but out of chains and the Galleys there may be resuscitation - in triumph. Resuscitation for the chained Hero; and even for the chained - Scoundrel, or Semi-scoundrel! Scottish John Knox, such World-Hero, as we - know, sat once nevertheless pulling grim-taciturn at the oar of French - Galley, “in the <i>Water of Lore;</i>” and even flung their Virgin-Mary - over, instead of kissing her,—as “a <i>pented bredd</i>,” or timber - Virgin, who could naturally swim.<a href="#linknote-323" - name="linknoteref-323" id="linknoteref-323">[323]</a> So, ye of - Château-Vieux, tug patiently, not without hope! - </p> - - <p> - But indeed at Nanci generally, Aristocracy rides triumphant, rough. - Bouillé is gone again, the second day; an Aristocrat Municipality, with - free course, is as cruel as it had before been cowardly. The Daughter - Society, as the mother of the whole mischief, lies ignominiously - suppressed; the Prisons can hold no more; bereaved down-beaten Patriotism - murmurs, not loud but deep. Here and in the neighbouring Towns, - “flattened balls” picked from the streets of Nanci are worn at - buttonholes: balls flattened in carrying death to Patriotism; men wear - them there, in perpetual memento of revenge. Mutineer Deserters roam the - woods; have to demand charity at the musket’s end. All is dissolution, - mutual rancour, gloom and despair:—till National-Assembly - Commissioners arrive, with a steady gentle flame of Constitutionalism in - their hearts; who gently lift up the down-trodden, gently pull down the - too uplifted; reinstate the Daughter Society, recall the Mutineer - Deserter; gradually levelling, strive in all wise ways to smooth and - soothe. With such gradual mild levelling on the one side; as with solemn - funeral-service, Cassolettes, Courts-Martial, National thanks,—all - that Officiality can do is done. The buttonhole will drop its flat ball; - the black ashes, so far as may be, get green again. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - This is the “Affair of Nanci;” by some called the “Massacre of - Nanci;”—properly speaking, the unsightly <i>wrong</i>-side of that - thrice glorious Feast of Pikes, the right-side of which formed a - spectacle for the very gods. Right-side and wrong lie always so near: the - one was in July, in August the other! Theatres, the theatres over in - London, are bright with their pasteboard simulacrum of that “Federation - of the French People,” brought out as Drama: this of Nanci, we may say, - though not played in any pasteboard Theatre, did for many months enact - itself, and even walk spectrally—in all French heads. For the news - of it fly pealing through all France; awakening, in town and village, in - clubroom, messroom, to the utmost borders, some mimic reflex or - imaginative repetition of the business; always with the angry - questionable assertion: It was right; It was wrong. Whereby come - controversies, duels, embitterment, vain jargon; the hastening forward, - the augmenting and intensifying of whatever new explosions lie in store - for us. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, at this cost or at that, the mutiny, as we say, is stilled. - The French Army has neither burst up in universal simultaneous delirium; - nor been at once disbanded, put an end to, and made new again. It must - die in the chronic manner, through years, by inches; with partial - revolts, as of Brest Sailors or the like, which dare not spread; with men - unhappy, insubordinate; officers unhappier, in Royalist moustachioes, - taking horse, singly or in bodies, across the Rhine:<a - href="#linknote-324" name="linknoteref-324" - id="linknoteref-324">[324]</a> sick dissatisfaction, sick disgust on both - sides; the Army moribund, fit for no duty:—till it do, in that - unexpected manner, Phoenix-like, with long throes, get both dead and - newborn; then start forth strong, nay stronger and even strongest. - </p> - - <p> - Thus much was the brave Bouillé hitherto fated to do. Wherewith let him - again fade into dimness; and at Metz or the rural Cantonments, - assiduously drilling, mysteriously diplomatising, in scheme within - scheme, hover as formerly a faint shadow, the hope of Royalty. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"></a> - BOOK 2.III.<br/> - THE TUILERIES - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069"></a> - Chapter 2.3.I.<br/> - Epimenides. - </h3> - - <p> - How true that there is nothing dead in this Universe; that what we call - dead is only changed, its forces working in inverse order! “The leaf that - lies rotting in moist winds,” says one, “has still force; else how could - it <i>rot?</i>” Our whole Universe is but an infinite Complex of Forces; - thousandfold, from Gravitation up to Thought and Will; man’s Freedom - environed with Necessity of Nature: in all which nothing at any moment - slumbers, but all is for ever awake and busy. The thing that lies - isolated inactive thou shalt nowhere discover; seek every where from the - granite mountain, slow-mouldering since Creation, to the passing - cloud-vapour, to the living man; to the action, to the spoken word of - man. The word that is spoken, as we know, flies-irrevocable: not less, - but more, the action that is done. “The gods themselves,” sings Pindar, - “cannot annihilate the action that is done.” No: this, once done, is done - always; cast forth into endless Time; and, long conspicuous or soon - hidden, must verily work and grow for ever there, an indestructible new - element in the Infinite of Things. Or, indeed, what <i>is</i> this - Infinite of Things itself, which men name Universe, but an action, a - sum-total of Actions and Activities? The living ready-made sum-total of - these three,—which Calculation cannot add, cannot bring on its - tablets; yet the sum, we say, is written visible: All that has been done, - All that is doing, All that will be done! Understand it well, the Thing - thou beholdest, that Thing is an Action, the product and expression of - exerted Force: the All of Things is an infinite conjugation of the verb - <i>To do.</i> Shoreless Fountain-Ocean of Force, of power to <i>do;</i> - wherein Force rolls and circles, billowing, many-streamed, harmonious; - wide as Immensity, deep as Eternity; beautiful and terrible, not to be - comprehended: this is what man names Existence and Universe; this - thousand-tinted Flame-image, at once veil and revelation, reflex such as - he, in his poor brain and heart, can paint, of One Unnameable dwelling in - inaccessible light! From beyond the Star-galaxies, from before the - Beginning of Days, it billows and rolls,—round <i>thee</i>, nay - thyself art of it, in this point of Space where thou now standest, in - this moment which thy clock measures. - </p> - - <p> - Or apart from all Transcendentalism, is it not a plain truth of sense, - which the duller mind can even consider as a truism, that human things - wholly are in continual movement, and action and reaction; working - continually forward, phasis after phasis, by unalterable laws, towards - prescribed issues? How often must we say, and yet not rightly lay to - heart: The seed that is sown, it will spring! Given the summer’s - blossoming, then there is also given the autumnal withering: so is it - ordered not with seedfields only, but with transactions, arrangements, - philosophies, societies, French Revolutions, whatsoever man works with in - this lower world. The Beginning holds in it the End, and all that leads - thereto; as the acorn does the oak and its fortunes. Solemn enough, did - we think of it,—which unhappily and also happily we do not very - much! Thou there canst begin; the Beginning is for thee, and there: but - where, and of what sort, and for whom will the End be? All grows, and - seeks and endures its destinies: consider likewise how much grows, as the - trees do, whether <i>we</i> think of it or not. So that when your - Epimenides, your somnolent Peter Klaus, since named Rip van Winkle, - awakens again, he finds it a changed world. In that seven-years’ sleep of - his, so much has changed! All that is without us will change while we - think not of it; much even that is within us. The truth that was - yesterday a restless Problem, has today grown a Belief burning to be - uttered: on the morrow, contradiction has exasperated it into mad - Fanaticism; obstruction has dulled it into sick Inertness; it is sinking - towards silence, of satisfaction or of resignation. Today is not - Yesterday, for man or for thing. Yesterday there was the oath of Love; - today has come the curse of Hate. Not willingly: ah, no; but it could not - help coming. The golden radiance of youth, would it willingly have - tarnished itself into the dimness of old age?—Fearful: how we stand - enveloped, deep-sunk, in that Mystery of TIME; and are Sons of Time; - fashioned and woven out of Time; and on us, and on all that we have, or - see, or do, is written: Rest not, Continue not, Forward to thy doom! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But in seasons of Revolution, which indeed distinguish themselves from - common seasons by their <i>velocity</i> mainly, your miraculous - Seven-sleeper might, with miracle enough, wake <i>sooner:</i> not by the - century, or seven years, need he sleep; often not by the seven months. - Fancy, for example, some new Peter Klaus, sated with the jubilee of that - Federation day, had lain down, say directly after the Blessing of - Talleyrand; and, reckoning it all safe <i>now</i>, had fallen composedly - asleep under the timber-work of the Fatherland’s Altar; to sleep there, - not twenty-one years, but as it were year and day. The cannonading of - Nanci, so far off, does not disturb him; nor does the black mortcloth, - close at hand, nor the requiems chanted, and minute guns, incense-pans - and concourse right over his head: none of these; but Peter sleeps - through them all. Through one circling year, as we say; from July 14th of - 1790, till July the 17th of 1791: but on that latter day, no Klaus, nor - most leaden Epimenides, only the Dead could continue sleeping; and so our - miraculous Peter Klaus awakens. With what eyes, O Peter! Earth and sky - have still their joyous July look, and the Champ-de-Mars is multitudinous - with men: but the jubilee-huzzahing has become Bedlam-shrieking, of - terror and revenge; not blessing of Talleyrand, or any blessing, but - cursing, imprecation and shrill wail; our cannon-salvoes are turned to - sharp shot; for swinging of incense-pans and Eighty-three Departmental - Banners, we have waving of the one sanguinous - <i>Drapeau-Rouge</i>.—Thou foolish Klaus! The one lay in the other, - the one <i>was</i> the other <i>minus</i> Time; even as Hannibal’s - rock-rending vinegar lay in the sweet new wine. That sweet Federation was - of last year; this sour Divulsion is the self-same substance, only older - by the appointed days. - </p> - - <p> - No miraculous Klaus or Epimenides sleeps in these times: and yet, may not - many a man, if of due opacity and levity, act the same miracle in a - natural way; we mean, with his eyes open? Eyes has he, but he sees not, - except what is under his nose. With a sparkling briskness of glance, as - if he not only saw but saw through, such a one goes whisking, assiduous, - in his circle of officialities; not dreaming but that <i>it</i> is the - whole world: as, indeed, where your vision terminates, does not inanity - begin <i>there</i>, and the world’s end clearly declares itself—to - you? Whereby our brisk sparkling assiduous official person (call him, for - instance, Lafayette), suddenly startled, after year and day, by huge - grape-shot tumult, stares not less astonished at it than Peter Klaus - would have done. Such natural-miracle Lafayette can perform; and indeed - not he only but most other officials, non-officials, and generally the - whole French People can perform it; and do bounce up, ever and anon, like - amazed Seven-sleepers awakening; awakening amazed at the noise they - themselves <i>make</i>. So strangely is Freedom, as we say, environed in - Necessity; such a singular Somnambulism, of Conscious and Unconscious, of - Voluntary and Involuntary, is this life of man. If any where in the world - there was astonishment that the Federation Oath went into grape-shot, - surely of all persons the French, first swearers and then shooters, felt - astonished the most. - </p> - - <p> - Alas, offences must come. The sublime Feast of Pikes, with its effulgence - of brotherly love, unknown since the Age of Gold, has changed nothing. - That prurient heat in Twenty-five millions of hearts is not cooled - thereby; but is still hot, nay hotter. Lift off the pressure of command - from so many millions; all pressure or binding rule, except such - melodramatic Federation Oath as they have bound <i>themselves</i> with! - For <i>Thou shalt</i> was from of old the condition of man’s being, and - his weal and blessedness was in obeying that. Wo for him when, were it on - hest of the clearest necessity, rebellion, disloyal isolation, and mere - <i>I will</i>, becomes his rule! But the Gospel of Jean-Jacques has come, - and the first Sacrament of it has been celebrated: all things, as we say, - are got into hot and hotter prurience; and must go on pruriently - fermenting, in continual change noted or unnoted. - </p> - - <p> - “Worn out with disgusts,” Captain after Captain, in Royalist - moustachioes, mounts his warhorse, or his Rozinante war-garron, and rides - minatory across the Rhine; till all have ridden. Neither does civic - Emigration cease: Seigneur after Seigneur must, in like manner, ride or - roll; impelled to it, and even compelled. For the very Peasants despise - him in that he dare not join his order and fight.<a href="#linknote-325" - name="linknoteref-325" id="linknoteref-325">[325]</a> Can he bear to have - a Distaff, a <i>Quenouille</i> sent to him; say in copper-plate shadow, - by post; or fixed up in wooden reality over his gate-lintel: as if he - were no Hercules but an Omphale? Such scutcheon they forward to him - diligently from behind the Rhine; till he too bestir himself and march, - and in sour humour, another Lord of Land is gone, <i>not</i> taking the - Land with him. Nay, what of Captains and emigrating Seigneurs? There is - not an angry word on any of those Twenty-five million French tongues, and - indeed not an angry thought in their hearts, but is some fraction of the - great Battle. Add many successions of angry words together, you have the - manual brawl; add brawls together, with the festering sorrows they leave, - and they rise to riots and revolts. One reverend thing after another - ceases to meet reverence: in visible material combustion, château after - château mounts up; in spiritual invisible combustion, one authority after - another. With noise and glare, or noisily and unnoted, a whole Old System - of things is vanishing piecemeal: on the morrow thou shalt look and it is - not. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070"></a> - Chapter 2.3.II.<br/> - The Wakeful. - </h3> - - <p> - Sleep who will, cradled in hope and short vision, like Lafayette, “who - always in the danger done sees the last danger that will threaten - him,”—Time is not sleeping, nor Time’s seedfield. - </p> - - <p> - That sacred Herald’s-College of a <i>new</i> Dynasty; we mean the Sixty - and odd Billstickers with their leaden badges, are not sleeping. Daily - they, with pastepot and cross-staff, new clothe the walls of Paris in - colours of the rainbow: authoritative heraldic, as we say, or indeed - almost magical thaumaturgic; for no Placard-Journal that they paste but - will convince some soul or souls of man. The Hawkers bawl; and the - Balladsingers: great Journalism blows and blusters, through all its - throats, forth from Paris towards all corners of France, like an Aeolus’ - Cave; keeping alive all manner of fires. - </p> - - <p> - Throats or Journals there are, as men count,<a href="#linknote-326" - name="linknoteref-326" id="linknoteref-326">[326]</a> to the number of - some hundred and thirty-three. Of various calibre; from your Chéniers, - Gorsases, Camilles, down to your Marat, down now to your incipient Hébert - of the <i>Père Duchesne;</i> these blow, with fierce weight of argument - or quick light banter, for the Rights of man: Durosoys, Royous, Peltiers, - Sulleaus, equally with mixed tactics, inclusive, singular to say, of much - profane Parody,<a href="#linknote-327" name="linknoteref-327" - id="linknoteref-327">[327]</a> are blowing for Altar and Throne. As for - Marat the People’s-Friend, his voice is as that of the bullfrog, or - bittern by the solitary pools; he, unseen of men, croaks harsh thunder, - and that alone continually,—of indignation, suspicion, incurable - sorrow. The People are sinking towards ruin, near starvation itself: “My - dear friends,” cries he, “your indigence is not the fruit of vices nor of - idleness, you have a right to life, as good as Louis XVI., or the - happiest of the century. What man can say he has a right to dine, when - you have no bread?”<a href="#linknote-328" name="linknoteref-328" - id="linknoteref-328">[328]</a> The People sinking on the one hand: on the - other hand, nothing but wretched Sieur Motiers, treasonous Riquetti - Mirabeaus; traitors, or else shadows, and simulacra of Quacks, to be seen - in high places, look where you will! Men that go mincing, grimacing, with - plausible speech and brushed raiment; hollow within: Quacks Political; - Quacks scientific, Academical; all with a fellow-feeling for each other, - and kind of Quack public-spirit! Not great Lavoisier himself, or any of - the Forty can escape this rough tongue; which wants not fanatic - sincerity, nor, strangest of all, a certain rough caustic sense. And then - the “three thousand gaming-houses” that are in Paris; cesspools for the - scoundrelism of the world; sinks of iniquity and - debauchery,—whereas without good morals Liberty is impossible! - There, in these Dens of Satan, which one knows, and perseveringly - denounces, do Sieur Motier’s mouchards consort and colleague; battening - vampyre-like on a People next-door to starvation. “<i>O Peuple!</i>” - cries he oftimes, with heart-rending accent. Treason, delusion, - vampyrism, scoundrelism, from Dan to Beersheba! The soul of Marat is sick - with the sight: but what remedy? To erect “Eight Hundred gibbets,” in - convenient rows, and proceed to hoisting; “Riquetti on the first of - them!” Such is the brief recipe of Marat, Friend of the People. - </p> - - <p> - So blow and bluster the Hundred and thirty-three: nor, as would seem, are - these sufficient; for there are benighted nooks in France, to which - Newspapers do not reach; and every where is “such an appetite for news as - was never seen in any country.” Let an expeditious Dampmartin, on - furlough, set out to return home from Paris,<a href="#linknote-329" - name="linknoteref-329" id="linknoteref-329">[329]</a> he cannot get along - for “peasants stopping him on the highway; overwhelming him with - questions:” the <i>Maître de Poste</i> will not send out the horses till - you have well nigh quarrelled with him, but asks always, What news? At - Autun, “in spite of the rigorous frost” for it is now January, 1791, - nothing will serve but you must gather your wayworn limbs, and thoughts, - and “speak to the multitudes from a window opening into the - market-place.” It is the shortest method: <i>This</i>, good Christian - people, is verily what an August Assembly seemed to me to be doing; this - and no other is the news; - </p> - - <p class="poem"> - “Now my weary lips I close;<br/> - Leave me, leave me to repose.”<br/> - </p> - - <p> - The good Dampmartin!—But, on the whole, are not Nations - astonishingly true to their National character; which indeed runs in the - blood? Nineteen hundred years ago, Julius Cæsar, with his quick sure eye, - took note how the Gauls waylaid men. “It is a habit of theirs,” says he, - “to stop travellers, were it even by constraint, and inquire whatsoever - each of them may have heard or known about any sort of matter: in their - towns, the common people beset the passing trader; demanding to hear from - what regions he came, what things he got acquainted with there. Excited - by which rumours and hearsays they will decide about the weightiest - matters; and necessarily repent next moment that they did it, on such - guidance of uncertain reports, and many a traveller answering with mere - fictions to please them, and get off.”<a href="#linknote-330" - name="linknoteref-330" id="linknoteref-330">[330]</a> Nineteen hundred - years; and good Dampmartin, wayworn, in winter frost, probably with scant - light of stars and fish-oil, still perorates from the Inn-window! This - People is no longer called Gaulish; and it has <i>wholly</i> become - <i>braccatus</i>, has got breeches, and suffered change enough: certain - fierce German <i>Franken</i> came storming over; and, so to speak, - vaulted on the back of it; and always after, in their grim tenacious way, - have ridden it bridled; for German is, by his very name, - <i>Guerre</i>-man, or man that <i>wars</i> and <i>gars</i>. And so the - People, as we say, is now called French or Frankish: nevertheless, does - not the old Gaulish and Gaelic Celthood, with its vehemence, effervescent - promptitude, and what good and ill it had, still vindicate itself little - adulterated?— - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, that in such prurient confusion, Clubbism thrives and - spreads, need not be said. Already the Mother of Patriotism, sitting in - the Jacobins, shines supreme over all; and has paled the poor lunar light - of that Monarchic Club near to final extinction. She, we say, shines - supreme, girt with sun-light, not yet with infernal lightning; - reverenced, not without fear, by Municipal Authorities; counting her - Barnaves, Lameths, Pétions, of a National Assembly; most gladly of all, - her Robespierre. Cordeliers, again, your Hébert, Vincent, Bibliopolist - Momoro, groan audibly that a tyrannous Mayor and Sieur Motier harrow them - with the sharp <i>tribula</i> of Law, intent apparently to suppress them - by tribulation. How the Jacobin Mother-Society, as hinted formerly, sheds - forth Cordeliers on this hand, and then Feuillans on that; the Cordeliers - on this hand, and then Feuillans on that; the Cordeliers “an elixir or - double-distillation of Jacobin Patriotism;” the other a wide-spread weak - dilution thereof; how she will re-absorb the former into her - Mother-bosom, and stormfully dissipate the latter into Nonentity: how she - breeds and brings forth Three Hundred Daughter-Societies; her rearing of - them, her correspondence, her endeavourings and continual travail: how, - under an old figure, Jacobinism shoots forth organic filaments to the - utmost corners of confused dissolved France; organising it - anew:—this properly is the grand fact of the Time. - </p> - - <p> - To passionate Constitutionalism, still more to Royalism, which see all - their own Clubs fail and die, Clubbism will naturally grow to seem the - root of all evil. Nevertheless Clubbism is not death, but rather new - organisation, and life out of death: destructive, indeed, of the remnants - of the Old; but to the New important, indispensable. That man can - co-operate and hold communion with man, herein lies his miraculous - strength. In hut or hamlet, Patriotism mourns not now like voice in the - desert: it can walk to the nearest Town; and there, in the - Daughter-Society, make its ejaculation into an articulate oration, into - an action, guided forward by the Mother of Patriotism herself. All Clubs - of Constitutionalists, and such like, fail, one after another, as shallow - fountains: Jacobinism alone has gone down to the deep subterranean lake - of waters; and may, unless <i>filled in</i>, flow there, copious, - continual, like an Artesian well. Till the Great Deep have drained itself - up: and all be flooded and submerged, and Noah’s Deluge out-deluged! - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, Claude Fauchet, preparing mankind for a Golden Age now - apparently just at hand, has opened his <i>Cercle Social</i>, with - clerks, corresponding boards, and so forth; in the precincts of the - Palais Royal. It is <i>Te-Deum</i> Fauchet; the same who preached on - Franklin’s Death, in that huge Medicean rotunda of the <i>Halle aux - bleds</i>. He here, this winter, by Printing-press and melodious - Colloquy, spreads bruit of himself to the utmost City-barriers. “Ten - thousand persons” of respectability attend there; and listen to this - “<i>Procureur-Général de la Vérité</i>, Attorney-General of Truth,” so - has he dubbed himself; to his sage Condorcet, or other eloquent - coadjutor. Eloquent Attorney-General! He blows out from him, better or - worse, what crude or ripe thing he holds: not without result to himself; - for it leads to a Bishoprick, though only a Constitutional one. Fauchet - approves himself a glib-tongued, strong-lunged, whole-hearted human - individual: much flowing matter there is, and really of the better sort, - about Right, Nature, Benevolence, Progress; which flowing matter, whether - “it is pantheistic,” or is pot-theistic, only the greener mind, in these - days, need read. Busy Brissot was long ago of purpose to establish - precisely some such regenerative <i>Social Circle:</i> nay he had tried - it, in “Newman-street Oxford-street,” of the Fog Babylon; and - failed,—as some say, surreptitiously pocketing the cash. Fauchet, - not Brissot, was fated to be the happy man; whereat, however, generous - Brissot will with sincere heart sing a timber-toned <i>Nunc Domine</i>.<a - href="#linknote-331" name="linknoteref-331" - id="linknoteref-331">[331]</a> But “ten thousand persons of - respectability:” what a bulk have many things in proportion to their - magnitude! This <i>Cercle Social</i>, for which Brissot chants in sincere - timber-tones such <i>Nunc Domine</i>, what is it? Unfortunately wind and - shadow. The main reality one finds in it now, is perhaps this: that an - “Attorney-General of Truth” did once take shape of a body, as Son of - Adam, on our Earth, though but for months or moments; and ten thousand - persons of respectability attended, ere yet Chaos and Nox had reabsorbed - him. - </p> - - <p> - Hundred and thirty-three Paris Journals; regenerative Social Circle; - oratory, in Mother and Daughter Societies, from the balconies of Inns, by - chimney-nook, at dinner-table,—polemical, ending many times in - duel! Add ever, like a constant growling accompaniment of bass Discord: - scarcity of work, scarcity of food. The winter is hard and cold; ragged - Bakers’-queues, like a black tattered flag-of-distress, wave out ever and - anon. It is the third of our Hunger-years this new year of a glorious - Revolution. The rich man when invited to dinner, in such - distress-seasons, feels bound in politeness to carry his own bread in his - pocket: how the poor dine? And your glorious Revolution has done it, - cries one. And our glorious Revolution is subtilety, by black traitors - worthy of the Lamp-iron, <i>perverted</i> to do it, cries another! Who - will paint the huge whirlpool wherein France, all shivered into wild - incoherence, whirls? The jarring that went on under every French roof, in - every French heart; the diseased things that were spoken, done, the - sum-total whereof is the French Revolution, tongue of man cannot tell. - Nor the laws of action that work unseen in the depths of that huge blind - Incoherence! With amazement, not with measurement, men look on the - Immeasurable; not knowing its laws; <i>seeing</i>, with all different - degrees of knowledge, what new phases, and results of event, its laws - bring forth. France is as a monstrous Galvanic Mass, wherein all sorts of - far stranger than chemical galvanic or electric forces and substances are - at work; electrifying one another, positive and negative; filling with - electricity your Leyden-jars,—Twenty-five millions in number! As - the jars get full, there will, from time to time, be, on slight hint, an - explosion. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071"></a> - Chapter 2.3.III.<br/> - Sword in Hand. - </h3> - - <p> - On such wonderful basis, however, has Law, Royalty, Authority, and - whatever yet exists of visible Order, to maintain itself, while it can. - Here, as in that Commixture of the Four Elements did the Anarch Old, has - an august Assembly spread its pavilion; curtained by the dark infinite of - discords; founded on the wavering bottomless of the Abyss; and keeps - continual hubbub. Time is around it, and Eternity, and the Inane; and it - does what it can, what is given it to do. - </p> - - <p> - Glancing reluctantly in, once more, we discern little that is edifying: a - Constitutional Theory of Defective Verbs struggling forward, with - perseverance, amid endless interruptions: Mirabeau, from his tribune, - with the weight of his name and genius, awing down much Jacobin violence; - which in return vents itself the louder over in its Jacobins Hall, and - even reads him sharp lectures there.<a href="#linknote-332" - name="linknoteref-332" id="linknoteref-332">[332]</a> This man’s path is - mysterious, questionable; difficult, and he walks without companion in - it. Pure Patriotism does not now count him among her chosen; pure - Royalism abhors him: yet his weight with the world is overwhelming. Let - him travel on, companionless, unwavering, whither he is - bound,—while it is yet day with him, and the night has not come. - </p> - - <p> - But the chosen band of pure Patriot brothers is small; counting only some - Thirty, seated now on the extreme tip of the Left, separate from the - world. A virtuous Pétion; an incorruptible Robespierre, most consistent, - incorruptible of thin acrid men; Triumvirs Barnave, Duport, Lameth, great - in speech, thought, action, each according to his kind; a lean old Goupil - de Prefeln: on these and what will follow them has pure Patriotism to - depend. - </p> - - <p> - There too, conspicuous among the Thirty, if seldom audible, Philippe - d’Orléans may be seen sitting: in dim fuliginous bewilderment; having, - one might say, <i>arrived</i> at Chaos! Gleams there are, at once of a - Lieutenancy and Regency; debates in the Assembly itself, of succession to - the Throne “in case the present Branch should fail;” and Philippe, they - say, walked anxiously, in silence, through the corridors, till such high - argument were done: but it came all to nothing; Mirabeau, glaring into - the man, and through him, had to ejaculate in strong untranslatable - language: <i>Ce j—f—ne vaut pas la peine qu’on se donne pour - lui</i>. It came all to nothing; and in the meanwhile Philippe’s money, - they say, is gone! Could he refuse a little cash to the gifted Patriot, - in want only of that; he himself in want of all <i>but</i> that? Not a - pamphlet can be printed without cash; or indeed written, without food - purchasable by cash. Without cash your hopefullest Projector cannot stir - from the spot: individual patriotic or other Projects require cash: how - much more do wide-spread Intrigues, which live and exist by cash; lying - widespread, with dragon-appetite for cash; fit to swallow Princedoms! And - so Prince Philippe, amid his Sillerys, Lacloses, and confused Sons of - Night, has rolled along: the centre of the strangest cloudy coil; out of - which has visibly come, as we often say, an Epic Preternatural Machinery - of SUSPICION; and <i>within</i> which there has dwelt and - worked,—what specialties of treason, stratagem, aimed or aimless - endeavour towards mischief, no party living (if it be not the Presiding - Genius of it, Prince of the Power of the Air) has now any chance to know. - Camille’s conjecture is the likeliest: that poor Philippe did mount up, a - little way, in treasonable speculation, as he mounted formerly in one of - the earliest Balloons; but, frightened at the new position he was getting - into, had soon turned the cock again, and come down. More fool than he - rose! To create Preternatural Suspicion, this was his function in the - Revolutionary Epos. But now if he have lost his cornucopia of - ready-money, what else had he to lose? In thick darkness, inward and - outward, he must welter and flounder on, in that piteous death-element, - the hapless man. Once, or even twice, we shall still behold him emerged; - struggling out of the thick death-element: in vain. For one moment, it is - the last moment, he starts aloft, or is flung aloft, even into clearness - and a kind of memorability,—to sink then for evermore! - </p> - - <p> - The <i>Côté Droit</i> persists no less; nay with more animation than - ever, though hope has now well nigh fled. Tough Abbé Maury, when the - obscure country Royalist grasps his hand with transport of thanks, - answers, rolling his indomitable brazen head: ‘<i>Hélas, Monsieur</i>, - all that I do here is as good as simply <i>nothing</i>.’ Gallant - Faussigny, visible this one time in History, advances frantic, into the - middle of the Hall, exclaiming: ‘There is but one way of dealing with it, - and that is to fall sword in hand on those gentry there, <i>sabre à la - main sur ces gaillards là</i>,’<a href="#linknote-333" - name="linknoteref-333" id="linknoteref-333">[333]</a> franticly - indicating our chosen Thirty on the extreme tip of the Left! Whereupon is - clangour and clamour, debate, repentance,—evaporation. Things ripen - towards downright incompatibility, and what is called “scission:” that - fierce theoretic onslaught of Faussigny’s was in August, 1790; next - August will not have come, till a famed Two Hundred and Ninety-two, the - chosen of Royalism, make solemn final “scission” from an Assembly given - up to faction; and depart, shaking the dust off their feet. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Connected with this matter of sword in hand, there is yet another thing - to be noted. Of duels we have sometimes spoken: how, in all parts of - France, innumerable duels were fought; and argumentative men and - messmates, flinging down the wine-cup and weapons of reason and repartee, - met in the measured field; to part bleeding; or perhaps <i>not</i> to - part, but to fall mutually skewered through with iron, their wrath and - life alike ending,—and die as fools die. Long has this lasted, and - still lasts. But now it would seem as if in an august Assembly itself, - traitorous Royalism, in its despair, had taken to a new course: that of - cutting off Patriotism by systematic duel! Bully-swordsmen, - “<i>Spadassins</i>” of that party, go swaggering; or indeed they can be - had for a trifle of money. “Twelve <i>Spadassins</i>” were <i>seen</i>, - by the yellow eye of Journalism, “arriving recently out of Switzerland;” - also “a considerable number of Assassins, <i>nombre considérable - d’assassins</i>, exercising in fencing-schools and at pistol-targets.” - Any Patriot Deputy of mark can be called out; let him escape one time, or - ten times, a time there necessarily is when he must fall, and France - mourn. How many cartels has Mirabeau had; especially while he was the - People’s champion! Cartels by the hundred: which he, since the - Constitution must be made first, and his time is precious, answers now - always with a kind of stereotype formula: ‘Monsieur, you are put upon my - List; but I warn you that it is long, and I grant no preferences.’ - </p> - - <p> - Then, in Autumn, had we not the Duel of Cazalès and Barnave; the two - chief masters of tongue-shot meeting now to exchange pistol-shot? For - Cazalès, chief of the Royalists, whom we call “Blacks or <i>Noirs</i>,” - said, in a moment of passion, ‘the Patriots were sheer Brigands,’ nay in - so speaking, he darted or seemed to dart, a fire-glance specially at - Barnave; who thereupon could not but reply by fire-glances,—by - adjournment to the Bois-de-Boulogne. Barnave’s second shot took effect: - on Cazalès’s <i>hat</i>. The “front nook” of a triangular Felt, such as - mortals then wore, deadened the ball; and saved that fine brow from more - than temporary injury. But how easily might the lot have fallen the other - way, and Barnave’s hat not been so good! Patriotism raises its loud - denunciation of Duelling in general; petitions an august Assembly to stop - such Feudal barbarism by law. Barbarism and solecism: for will it - convince or convict any man to blow half an ounce of lead through the - head of him? Surely not.—Barnave was received at the Jacobins with - embraces, yet with rebukes. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Mindful of which, and also that his repetition in America was that of - headlong foolhardiness rather, and want of brain not of heart, Charles - Lameth does, on the eleventh day of November, with little emotion, - decline attending some hot young Gentleman from Artois, come expressly to - challenge him: nay indeed he first coldly engages to attend; then coldly - permits two Friends to attend instead of him, and shame the young - Gentleman out of it, which they successfully do. A cold procedure; - satisfactory to the two Friends, to Lameth and the hot young Gentleman; - whereby, one might have fancied, the whole matter was cooled down. - </p> - - <p> - Not so, however: Lameth, proceeding to his senatorial duties, in the - decline of the day, is met in those Assembly corridors by nothing but - Royalist <i>brocards;</i> sniffs, huffs, and open insults. Human patience - has its limits: ‘Monsieur,’ said Lameth, breaking silence to one Lautrec, - a man with hunchback, or natural deformity, but sharp of tongue, and a - <i>Black</i> of the deepest tint, ‘Monsieur, if you were a man to be - fought with!’—‘I am one,’ cries the young Duke de Castries. Fast as - fire-flash Lameth replies, ‘<i>Tout à l’heure</i>, On the instant, then!’ - And so, as the shades of dusk thicken in that Bois-de-Boulogne, we behold - two men with lion-look, with alert attitude, side foremost, right foot - advanced; flourishing and thrusting, stoccado and passado, in tierce and - quart; intent to skewer one another. See, with most skewering purpose, - headlong Lameth, with his whole weight, makes a furious lunge; but deft - Castries whisks aside: Lameth skewers only the air,—and slits deep - and far, on Castries’ sword’s-point, his own extended left arm! Whereupon - with bleeding, pallor, surgeon’s-lint, and formalities, the Duel is - considered satisfactorily done. - </p> - - <p> - But will there be no end, then? Beloved Lameth lies deep-slit, not out of - danger. Black traitorous Aristocrats kill the People’s defenders, cut up - not with arguments, but with rapier-slits. And the Twelve - <i>Spadassins</i> out of Switzerland, and the considerable number of - Assassins exercising at the pistol-target? So meditates and ejaculates - hurt Patriotism, with ever-deepening ever-widening fervour, for the space - of six and thirty hours. - </p> - - <p> - The thirty-six hours past, on Saturday the 13th, one beholds a new - spectacle: The Rue de Varennes, and neighbouring Boulevard des Invalides, - covered with a mixed flowing multitude: the Castries Hotel gone - distracted, devil-ridden, belching from every window, “beds with clothes - and curtains,” plate of silver and gold with filigree, mirrors, pictures, - images, commodes, chiffoniers, and endless crockery and jingle: amid - steady popular cheers, absolutely without theft; for there goes a cry, - ‘He shall be hanged that steals a nail!’ It is a <i>Plebiscitum</i>, or - informal iconoclastic Decree of the Common People, in the course of being - executed!—The Municipality sit tremulous; deliberating whether they - will hang out the <i>Drapeau Rouge</i> and Martial Law: National - Assembly, part in loud wail, part in hardly suppressed applause: Abbé - Maury unable to decide whether the iconoclastic Plebs amount to forty - thousand or to two hundred thousand. - </p> - - <p> - Deputations, swift messengers, for it is at a distance over the River, - come and go. Lafayette and National Guardes, though without <i>Drapeau - Rouge</i>, get under way; apparently in no hot haste. Nay, arrived on the - scene, Lafayette salutes with doffed hat, before ordering to fix - bayonets. What avails it? The Plebeian ‘Court of <i>Cassation</i>,’ as - Camille might punningly name it, has done its work; steps forth, with - unbuttoned vest, with pockets turned inside out: sack, and just ravage, - not plunder! With inexhaustible patience, the Hero of two Worlds - remonstrates; persuasively, with a kind of sweet constraint, though also - with fixed bayonets, dissipates, hushes down: on the morrow it is once - more all as usual. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Considering which things, however, Duke Castries may justly “write to the - President,” justly transport himself across the Marches; to raise a - corps, or do what else is in him. Royalism totally abandons that - Bobadilian method of contest, and the Twelve <i>Spadassins</i> return to - Switzerland,—or even to Dreamland through the Horn-gate, - whichsoever their home is. Nay Editor Prudhomme is authorised to publish - a curious thing: “We are authorised to publish,” says he, dull-blustering - Publisher, that M. Boyer, champion of good Patriots, is at the head of - Fifty <i>Spadassinicides</i> or Bully-<i>killers</i>. His address is: - Passage du Bois-de-Boulonge, Faubourg St. Denis.”<a href="#linknote-334" - name="linknoteref-334" id="linknoteref-334">[334]</a> One of the - strangest Institutes, this of Champion Boyer and the Bully-killers! Whose - services, however, are not wanted; Royalism having abandoned the - rapier-method as plainly impracticable. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072"></a> - Chapter 2.3.IV.<br/> - To fly or not to fly. - </h3> - - <p> - The truth is Royalism sees itself verging towards sad extremities; nearer - and nearer daily. From over the Rhine it comes asserted that the King in - his Tuileries is not free: this the poor King may contradict, with the - official mouth, but in his heart feels often to be undeniable. Civil - Constitution of the Clergy; Decree of ejectment against Dissidents from - it: not even to this latter, though almost his conscience rebels, can he - say “Nay; but, after two months’ hesitating, signs this also. It was on - January 21st,” of this 1790, that he signed it; to the sorrow of his - poor/ heart yet, on <i>another</i> Twenty-first of January! Whereby come - Dissident ejected Priests; unconquerable Martyrs according to some, - incurable chicaning Traitors according to others. And so there has - arrived what we once foreshadowed: with Religion, or with the Cant and - Echo of Religion, all France is rent asunder in a new rupture of - continuity; complicating, embittering all the older;—to be cured - only, by stern surgery, in La Vendée! - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy Royalty, unhappy Majesty, Hereditary (Representative), - <i>Représentant Héréditaire</i>, or however they can name him; of whom - much is expected, to whom little is given! Blue National Guards encircle - that Tuileries; a Lafayette, thin constitutional Pedant; clear, thin, - inflexible, as water, turned to thin ice; whom no Queen’s heart can love. - National Assembly, its pavilion spread where we know, sits near by, - keeping continual hubbub. From without nothing but Nanci Revolts, sack of - Castries Hotels, riots and seditions; riots, North and South, at Aix, at - Douai, at Béfort, Usez, Perpignan, at Nismes, and that incurable Avignon - of the Pope’s: a continual crackling and sputtering of riots from the - whole face of France;—testifying how electric it grows. Add only - the hard winter, the famished <i>strikes</i> of operatives; that - continual running-bass of Scarcity, ground-tone and basis of all other - Discords! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The plan of Royalty, so far as it can be said to have any fixed plan, is - still, as ever, that of flying towards the frontiers. In very truth, the - only plan of the smallest promise for it! Fly to Bouillé; bristle - yourself round with cannon, served by your “forty-thousand undebauched - Germans:” summon the National Assembly to follow you, summon what of it - is Royalist, Constitutional, gainable by money; dissolve the rest, by - grapeshot if need be. Let Jacobinism and Revolt, with one wild wail, fly - into Infinite Space; driven by grapeshot. Thunder over France with the - cannon’s mouth; commanding, not entreating, that this riot cease. And - then to rule afterwards with utmost possible Constitutionality; doing - justice, loving mercy; <i>being</i> Shepherd of this indigent People, not - Shearer merely, and Shepherd’s-similitude! All this, if ye dare. If ye - dare not, then in Heaven’s name go to sleep: other handsome alternative - seems none. - </p> - - <p> - Nay, it were perhaps possible; with a man to do it. For if such - inexpressible whirlpool of Babylonish confusions (which our Era is) - cannot be stilled by man, but only by Time and men, a man may moderate - its paroxysms, may balance and sway, and keep himself unswallowed on the - top of it,—as several men and Kings in these days do. Much is - possible for a man; men will obey a man that <i>kens</i> and <i>cans</i>, - and name him reverently their <i>Ken-ning</i> or King. Did not - Charlemagne rule? Consider too whether he had smooth times of it; hanging - “thirty-thousand Saxons over the Weser-Bridge,” at one dread swoop! So - likewise, who knows but, in this same distracted fanatic France, the - right man may verily exist? An olive-complexioned taciturn man; for the - present, Lieutenant in the Artillery-service, who once sat studying - Mathematics at Brienne? The same who walked in the morning to correct - proof-sheets at Dôle, and enjoyed a frugal breakfast with M. Joly? Such a - one is gone, whither also famed General Paoli his friend is gone, in - these very days, to see old scenes in native Corsica, and what Democratic - good can be done there. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Royalty never executes the evasion-plan, yet never abandons it; living in - variable hope; undecisive, till fortune shall decide. In utmost secrecy, - a brisk Correspondence goes on with Bouillé; there is also a plot, which - emerges more than once, for carrying the King to Rouen:<a - href="#linknote-335" name="linknoteref-335" - id="linknoteref-335">[335]</a> plot after plot, emerging and submerging, - like “<i>ignes fatui</i> in foul weather, which lead no whither. About - “ten o’clock at night,” the Hereditary Representative, in <i>partie - quarrée</i>, with the Queen, with Brother Monsieur, and Madame, sits - playing “<i>wisk</i>,” or whist. Usher Campan enters mysteriously, with a - message he only half comprehends: How a certain Compte d’Inisdal waits - anxious in the outer antechamber; National Colonel, Captain of the watch - for this night, is gained over; post-horses ready all the way; party of - Noblesse sitting armed, determined; will His Majesty, before midnight, - consent to go? Profound silence; Campan waiting with upturned ear. ‘Did - your Majesty hear what Campan said?’ asks the Queen. ‘Yes, I heard,’ - answers Majesty, and plays on. ‘’Twas a pretty couplet, that of - Campan’s,’ hints Monsieur, who at times showed a pleasant wit: Majesty, - still unresponsive, plays wisk. ‘After all, one must say something to - Campan,’ remarks the Queen. ‘Tell M. d’Inisdal,’ said the King, and the - Queen puts an emphasis on it, ‘that the King cannot <i>consent</i> to be - forced away.’—‘I see!’ said d’Inisdal, whisking round, peaking - himself into flame of irritancy: ‘we have the risk; we are to have all - the blame if it fail,’<a href="#linknote-336" name="linknoteref-336" - id="linknoteref-336">[336]</a>—and vanishes, he and his plot, as - will-o’-wisps do. The Queen sat till far in the night, packing jewels: - but it came to nothing; in that peaked frame of irritancy the - Will-o’-wisp had gone <i>out</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Little hope there is in all this. Alas, with whom to fly? Our loyal - <i>Gardes-du-Corps</i>, ever since the Insurrection of Women, are - disbanded; gone to their homes; gone, many of them, across the Rhine - towards Coblentz and Exiled Princes: brave Miomandre and brave Tardivet, - these faithful Two, have received, in nocturnal interview with both - Majesties, their <i>viaticum</i> of gold louis, of heartfelt thanks from - a Queen’s lips, though unluckily “his Majesty stood, back to fire, not - speaking;”<a href="#linknote-337" name="linknoteref-337" - id="linknoteref-337">[337]</a> and do now dine through the Provinces; - recounting hairsbreadth escapes, insurrectionary horrors. Great horrors; - to be swallowed yet of greater. But on the whole what a falling off from - the old splendour of Versailles! Here in this poor Tuileries, a National - Brewer-Colonel, sonorous Santerre, parades officially behind her - Majesty’s chair. Our high dignitaries, all fled over the Rhine: nothing - now to be gained at Court; but hopes, for which life itself must be - risked! Obscure busy men frequent the back stairs; with hearsays, wind - projects, unfruitful fanfaronades. Young Royalists, at the <i>Théâtre de - Vaudeville</i>, “sing couplets;” if that could do any thing. Royalists - enough, Captains on furlough, burnt-out Seigneurs, may likewise be met - with, “in the Café de Valois, and at Méot the Restaurateur’s.” There they - fan one another into high loyal glow; drink, in such wine as can be - procured, confusion to Sansculottism; shew purchased dirks, of an - improved structure, made to order; and, greatly daring, dine.<a - href="#linknote-338" name="linknoteref-338" - id="linknoteref-338">[338]</a> It is in these places, in these months, - that the epithet <i>Sansculotte</i> first gets applied to indigent - Patriotism; in the last age we had Gilbert <i>Sansculotte</i>, the - indigent Poet.<a href="#linknote-339" name="linknoteref-339" - id="linknoteref-339">[339]</a> Destitute-of-Breeches: a mournful - Destitution; which however, if Twenty millions share it, may become more - effective than most Possessions! - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, amid this vague dim whirl of fanfaronades, wind-projects, - poniards made to order, there does disclose itself one - <i>punctum-saliens</i> of life and feasibility: the finger of Mirabeau! - Mirabeau and the Queen of France have met; have parted with mutual trust! - It is strange; secret as the Mysteries; but it is indubitable. Mirabeau - took horse, one evening; and rode westward, unattended,—to see - Friend Clavière in that country house of his? Before getting to - Clavière’s, the much-musing horseman struck aside to a back gate of the - Garden of Saint-Cloud: some Duke d’Aremberg, or the like, was there to - introduce him; the Queen was not far: on a “round knoll, <i>rond - point</i>, the highest of the Garden of Saint-Cloud,” he beheld the - Queen’s face; spake with her, alone, under the void canopy of Night. What - an interview; fateful secret for us, after all searching; like the - colloquies of the gods!<a href="#linknote-340" name="linknoteref-340" - id="linknoteref-340">[340]</a> She called him “a Mirabeau:” elsewhere we - read that she “was charmed with him,” the wild submitted Titan; as indeed - it is among the honourable tokens of this high ill-fated heart that no - mind of any endowment, no Mirabeau, nay no Barnave, no Dumouriez, ever - came face to face with her but, in spite of all prepossessions, she was - forced to recognise it, to draw nigh to it, with trust. High imperial - heart; with the instinctive attraction towards all that had any height! - ‘You know not the Queen,’ said Mirabeau once in confidence; ‘her force of - mind is prodigious; she is a man for courage.’<a href="#linknote-341" - name="linknoteref-341" id="linknoteref-341">[341]</a>—And so, under - the void Night, on the crown of that knoll, she has spoken with a - Mirabeau: he has kissed loyally the queenly hand, and said with - enthusiasm: ‘Madame, the Monarchy is saved!’—Possible? The Foreign - Powers, mysteriously sounded, gave favourable guarded response;<a - href="#linknote-342" name="linknoteref-342" - id="linknoteref-342">[342]</a> Bouillé is at Metz, and could find - forty-thousand sure Germans. With a Mirabeau for head, and a Bouillé for - hand, something verily is possible,—if Fate intervene not. - </p> - - <p> - But figure under what thousandfold wrappages, and cloaks of darkness, - Royalty, meditating these things, must involve itself. There are men with - “Tickets of Entrance;” there are chivalrous consultings, mysterious - plottings. Consider also whether, involve as it like, plotting Royalty - can escape the glance of Patriotism; lynx-eyes, by the ten thousand fixed - on it, which see in the dark! Patriotism knows much: know the dirks made - to order, and can specify the shops; knows Sieur Motier’s legions of - mouchards; the Tickets of <i>Entrée</i>, and men in black; and how plan - of evasion succeeds plan,—or may be supposed to succeed it. Then - conceive the couplets chanted at the <i>Théâtre de Vaudeville;</i> or - worse, the whispers, significant nods of traitors in moustaches. - Conceive, on the other hand, the loud cry of alarm that came through the - Hundred-and-Thirty Journals; the Dionysius’-Ear of each of the - Forty-eight Sections, wakeful night and day. - </p> - - <p> - Patriotism is patient of much; not patient of all. The <i>Café de - Procope</i> has sent, visibly along the streets, a Deputation of - Patriots, “to expostulate with bad Editors,” by trustful word of mouth: - singular to see and hear. The bad Editors promise to amend, but do not. - Deputations for change of Ministry were many; Mayor Bailly joining even - with Cordelier Danton in such: and they have prevailed. With what profit? - Of Quacks, willing or constrained to be Quacks, the race is everlasting: - Ministers Duportail and Dutertre will have to manage much as Ministers - Latour-du-Pin and Cicé did. So welters the confused world. - </p> - - <p> - But now, beaten on for ever by such inextricable contradictory influences - and evidences, what is the indigent French Patriot, in these unhappy - days, to believe, and walk by? Uncertainty all; except that he is - wretched, indigent; that a glorious Revolution, the wonder of the - Universe, has hitherto brought neither Bread nor Peace; being marred by - traitors, difficult to discover. Traitors that dwell in the dark, - invisible there;—or seen for moments, in pallid dubious twilight, - stealthily vanishing thither! Preternatural Suspicion once more rules the - minds of men. - </p> - - <p> - “Nobody here,” writes Carra of the <i>Annales Patriotiques</i>, so early - as the first of February, “can entertain a doubt of the constant - obstinate project these people have on foot to get the King away; or of - the perpetual succession of manœuvres they employ for that.” Nobody: the - watchful Mother of Patriotism deputed two Members to her Daughter at - Versailles, to examine how the matter looked there. Well, and there? - Patriotic Carra continues: “The Report of these two deputies we all heard - with our own ears last Saturday. They went with others of Versailles, to - inspect the King’s Stables, also the stables of the whilom <i>Gardes du - Corps;</i> they found there from seven to eight hundred horses standing - always saddled and bridled, ready for the road at a moment’s notice. The - same deputies, moreover, saw with their own two eyes several Royal - Carriages, which men were even then busy loading with large well-stuffed - luggage-bags,” leather cows, as we call them, “<i>vaches de cuir;</i> the - Royal Arms on the panels almost entirely effaced.” Momentous enough! - Also, “on the same day the whole <i>Maréchaussée</i>, or Cavalry Police, - did assemble with arms, horses and baggage,”—and disperse again. - They want the King over the marches, that so Emperor Leopold and the - German Princes, whose troops are ready, may have a pretext for beginning: - “this,” adds Carra, “is the word of the riddle: this is the reason why - our fugitive Aristocrats are now making levies of men on the frontiers; - expecting that, one of these mornings, the Executive Chief Magistrate - will be brought over to them, and the civil war commence.”<a - href="#linknote-343" name="linknoteref-343" - id="linknoteref-343">[343]</a> - </p> - - <p> - If indeed the Executive Chief Magistrate, bagged, say in one of these - leather <i>cows</i>, were once brought safe over to them! But the - strangest thing of all is that Patriotism, whether barking at a venture, - or guided by some instinct of preternatural sagacity, is actually barking - <i>aright</i> this time; at something, not at nothing. Bouillé’s Secret - Correspondence, since made public, testifies as much. - </p> - - <p> - Nay, it is undeniable, visible to all, that <i>Mesdames</i> the King’s - Aunts are taking steps for departure: asking passports of the Ministry, - safe-conducts of the Municipality; which Marat warns all men to beware - of. They will carry gold with them, “these old <i>Béguines;</i>” nay they - will carry the little Dauphin, “having nursed a changeling, for some - time, to leave in his stead!” Besides, they are as some light substance - flung up, to shew how the wind sits; a kind of proof-kite you fly off to - ascertain whether the grand paper-kite, Evasion of the King, may mount! - </p> - - <p> - In these alarming circumstances, Patriotism is not wanting to itself. - Municipality deputes to the King; Sections depute to the Municipality; a - National Assembly will soon stir. Meanwhile, behold, on the 19th of - February 1791, Mesdames, quitting Bellevue and Versailles with all - privacy, are off! Towards Rome, seemingly; or one knows not whither. They - are not without King’s passports, countersigned; and what is more to the - purpose, a serviceable Escort. The Patriotic Mayor or Mayorlet of the - Village of Moret tried to detain them; but brisk Louis de Narbonne, of - the Escort, dashed off at hand-gallop; returned soon with thirty - dragoons, and victoriously cut them out. And so the poor ancient women go - their way; to the terror of France and Paris, whose nervous excitability - is become extreme. Who else would hinder poor <i>Loque</i> and - <i>Graille</i>, now grown so old, and fallen into such unexpected - circumstances, when gossip itself turning only on terrors and horrors is - no longer pleasant to the mind, and you cannot get so much as an orthodox - confessor in peace,—from going what way soever the hope of any - solacement might lead them? - </p> - - <p> - They go, poor ancient dames,—whom the heart were hard that does not - pity: they go; with palpitations, with unmelodious suppressed - screechings; all France, screeching and cackling, in loud - <i>un</i>suppressed terror, behind and on both hands of them: such mutual - suspicion is among men. At Arnay le Duc, above halfway to the frontiers, - a Patriotic Municipality and Populace again takes courage to stop them: - Louis Narbonne must now back to Paris, must consult the National - Assembly. National Assembly answers, not without an effort, that Mesdames - may go. Whereupon Paris rises worse than ever, screeching - half-distracted. Tuileries and precincts are filled with women and men, - while the National Assembly debates this question of questions; Lafayette - is needed at night for dispersing them, and the streets are to be - illuminated. Commandant Berthier, a Berthier before whom are great things - unknown, lies for the present under blockade at Bellevue in Versailles. - By no tactics could he get Mesdames’ Luggage stirred from the Courts - there; frantic Versaillese women came screaming about him; his very - troops cut the waggon-traces; he retired to the interior, waiting better - times.<a href="#linknote-344" name="linknoteref-344" - id="linknoteref-344">[344]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nay, in these same hours, while Mesdames hardly cut out from Moret by the - sabre’s edge, are driving rapidly, to foreign parts, and not yet stopped - at Arnay, their august nephew poor Monsieur, at Paris has dived deep into - his cellars of the Luxembourg for shelter; and according to Montgaillard - can hardly be persuaded up again. Screeching multitudes environ that - Luxembourg of his: drawn thither by report of his departure: but, at - sight and sound of Monsieur, they become crowing multitudes; and escort - Madame and him to the Tuileries with vivats.<a href="#linknote-345" - name="linknoteref-345" id="linknoteref-345">[345]</a> It is a state of - nervous excitability such as few Nations know. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073"></a> - Chapter 2.3.V.<br/> - The Day of Poniards. - </h3> - - <p> - Or, again, what means this visible reparation of the Castle of Vincennes? - Other Jails being all crowded with prisoners, new space is wanted here: - that is the Municipal account. For in such changing of Judicatures, - Parlements being abolished, and New Courts but just set up, prisoners - have accumulated. Not to say that in these times of discord and club-law, - offences and committals are, at any rate, more numerous. Which Municipal - account, does it not sufficiently explain the phenomenon? Surely, to - repair the Castle of Vincennes was of all enterprises that an enlightened - Municipality could undertake, the most innocent. - </p> - - <p> - Not so however does neighbouring Saint-Antoine look on it: Saint-Antoine - to whom these peaked turrets and grim donjons, all-too near her own dark - dwelling, are of themselves an offence. Was not Vincennes a kind of minor - Bastille? Great Diderot and Philosophes have lain in durance here; great - Mirabeau, in disastrous eclipse, for forty-two months. And now when the - old Bastille has become a dancing-ground (had any one the mirth to - dance), and its stones are getting built into the Pont Louis-Seize, does - this minor, comparative insignificance of a Bastille flank itself with - fresh-hewn mullions, spread out tyrannous wings; menacing Patriotism? New - space for prisoners: and what prisoners? A d’Orléans, with the chief - Patriots on the tip of the Left? It is said, there runs “a subterranean - passage” all the way from the Tuileries hither. Who knows? Paris, mined - with quarries and catacombs, does hang wondrous over the abyss; Paris was - once to be blown up,—though the powder, when we went to look, had - got withdrawn. A Tuileries, sold to Austria and Coblentz, should have no - subterranean passage. Out of which might not Coblentz or Austria issue, - some morning; and, with cannon of long range, “<i>foudroyer</i>,” - bethunder a patriotic Saint-Antoine into smoulder and ruin! - </p> - - <p> - So meditates the benighted soul of Saint-Antoine, as it sees the aproned - workmen, in early spring, busy on these towers. An official-speaking - Municipality, a Sieur Motier with his legions of <i>mouchards</i>, - deserve no trust at all. Were Patriot Santerre, indeed, Commander! But - the sonorous Brewer commands only our own Battalion: of such secrets he - can explain nothing, knows nothing, perhaps suspects much. And so the - work goes on; and afflicted benighted Saint-Antoine hears rattle of - hammers, sees stones suspended in air.<a href="#linknote-346" - name="linknoteref-346" id="linknoteref-346">[346]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Saint-Antoine prostrated the first great Bastille: will it falter over - this comparative insignificance of a Bastille? Friends, what if we took - pikes, firelocks, sledgehammers; and helped ourselves!—Speedier is - no remedy; nor so certain. On the 28th day of February, Saint-Antoine - turns out, as it has now often done; and, apparently with little - superfluous tumult, moves eastward to that eye-sorrow of Vincennes. With - grave voice of authority, no need of bullying and shouting, Saint-Antoine - signifies to parties concerned there that its purpose is, To have this - suspicious Stronghold razed level with the general soil of the country. - Remonstrance may be proffered, with zeal: but it avails not. The outer - gate goes up, drawbridges tumble; iron window-stanchions, smitten out - with sledgehammers, become iron-crowbars: it rains furniture, - stone-masses, slates: with chaotic clatter and rattle, Demolition - clatters down. And now hasty expresses rush through the agitated streets, - to warn Lafayette, and the Municipal and Departmental Authorities; Rumour - warns a National Assembly, a Royal Tuileries, and all men who care to - hear it: That Saint-Antoine is up; that Vincennes, and probably the last - remaining Institution of the Country, is coming down.<a - href="#linknote-347" name="linknoteref-347" - id="linknoteref-347">[347]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Quick, then! Let Lafayette roll his drums and fly eastward; for to all - Constitutional Patriots this is again bad news. And you, ye Friends of - Royalty, snatch your poniards of improved structure, made to order; your - sword-canes, secret arms, and tickets of entry; quick, by backstairs - passages, rally round the Son of Sixty Kings. An effervescence probably - got up by d’Orléans and Company, for the overthrow of Throne and Altar: - it is said her Majesty shall be put in prison, put out of the way; what - then will <i>his</i> Majesty be? Clay for the Sansculottic Potter! Or - were it impossible to fly this day; a brave Noblesse suddenly all - rallying? Peril threatens, hope invites: Dukes de Villequier, de Duras, - Gentlemen of the Chamber give tickets and admittance; a brave Noblesse is - suddenly all rallying. Now were the time to “fall sword in hand on those - gentry there,” could it be done with effect. - </p> - - <p> - The Hero of two Worlds is on his white charger; blue Nationals, horse and - foot, hurrying eastward: Santerre, with the Saint-Antoine Battalion, is - already there,—apparently indisposed to act. Heavy-laden Hero of - two Worlds, what tasks are these! The jeerings, provocative gambollings - of that Patriot Suburb, which is all out on the streets now, are hard to - endure; unwashed Patriots jeering in sulky sport; one unwashed Patriot - “seizing the General by the boot” to unhorse him. Santerre, ordered to - fire, makes answer obliquely, ‘These are the men that took the Bastille;’ - and not a trigger stirs! Neither dare the Vincennes Magistracy give - warrant of arrestment, or the smallest countenance: wherefore the General - “will take it on himself” to arrest. By promptitude, by cheerful - adroitness, patience and brisk valour without limits, the riot may be - again bloodlessly appeased. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, the rest of Paris, with more or less unconcern, may mind the - rest of its business: for what is this but an effervescence, of which - there are now so many? The National Assembly, in one of its stormiest - moods, is debating a Law against Emigration; Mirabeau declaring aloud, ‘I - swear beforehand that I will not obey it.’ Mirabeau is often at the - Tribune this day; with endless impediments from without; with the old - unabated energy from within. What can murmurs and clamours, from Left or - from Right, do to this man; like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved? With clear - thought; with strong bass-voice, though at first low, uncertain, he - claims audience, sways the storm of men: anon the sound of him waxes, - softens; he rises into far-sounding melody of strength, triumphant, which - subdues all hearts; his rude-seamed face, desolate fire-scathed, becomes - fire-lit, and radiates: once again men feel, in these beggarly ages, what - is the potency and omnipotency of man’s word on the souls of men. ‘I will - triumph or be torn in fragments,’ he was once heard to say. ‘Silence,’ he - cries now, in strong word of command, in imperial consciousness of - strength, ‘Silence, the thirty voices, <i>Silence aux trente - voix!</i>’—and Robespierre and the Thirty Voices die into - mutterings; and the Law is once more as Mirabeau would have it. - </p> - - <p> - How different, at the same instant, is General Lafayette’s street - eloquence; wrangling with sonorous Brewers, with an ungrammatical - Saint-Antoine! Most different, again, from both is the Café-de-Valois - eloquence, and suppressed fanfaronade, of this multitude of men with - Tickets of Entry; who are now inundating the Corridors of the Tuileries. - Such things can go on simultaneously in one City. How much more in one - Country; in one Planet with its discrepancies, every Day a mere crackling - infinitude of discrepancies—which nevertheless do yield some - coherent net-product, though an infinitesimally small one! - </p> - - <p> - Be this as it may. Lafayette has saved Vincennes; and is marching - homewards with some dozen of arrested demolitionists. Royalty is not yet - saved;—nor indeed specially endangered. But to the King’s - Constitutional Guard, to these old Gardes Françaises, or Centre - Grenadiers, as it chanced to be, this affluence of men with Tickets of - Entry is becoming more and more unintelligible. Is his Majesty verily for - Metz, then; to be carried off by these men, on the spur of the instant? - That revolt of Saint-Antoine got up by traitor Royalists for a - stalking-horse? Keep a sharp outlook, ye Centre Grenadiers on duty here: - good never came from the “men in black.” Nay they have cloaks, - <i>rédingotes;</i> some of them leather-breeches, boots,—as if for - instant riding! Or what is this that sticks visible from the lapelle of - Chevalier de Court?<a href="#linknote-348" name="linknoteref-348" - id="linknoteref-348">[348]</a> Too like the handle of some cutting or - stabbing instrument! He glides and goes; and still the dudgeon sticks - from his left lapelle. ‘Hold, Monsieur!’—a Centre Grenadier - clutches him; clutches the protrusive dudgeon, whisks it out in the face - of the world: by Heaven, a very dagger; hunting-knife, or whatsoever you - call it; fit to drink the life of Patriotism! - </p> - - <p> - So fared it with Chevalier de Court, early in the day; not without noise; - not without commentaries. And now this continually increasing multitude - at nightfall? Have they daggers too? Alas, with them too, after angry - parleyings, there has begun a groping and a rummaging; all men in black, - spite of their Tickets of Entry, are clutched by the collar, and groped. - Scandalous to think of; for always, as the dirk, sword-cane, pistol, or - were it but tailor’s bodkin, is found on him, and with loud scorn drawn - forth from him, he, the hapless man in black, is flung all too rapidly - down stairs. Flung; and ignominiously descends, head foremost; - accelerated by ignominious shovings from sentry after sentry; nay, as is - written, by smitings, twitchings,—spurnings, <i>à posteriori</i>, - not to be named. In this accelerated way, emerges, uncertain which end - uppermost, man after man in black, through all issues, into the Tuileries - Garden. Emerges, alas, into the arms of an indignant multitude, now - gathered and gathering there, in the hour of dusk, to see what is toward, - and whether the Hereditary Representative is carried off or not. Hapless - men in black; at last <i>convicted</i> of poniards made to order; - convicted “Chevaliers of the Poniard!” Within is as the burning ship; - without is as the deep sea. Within is no help; his Majesty, looking - forth, one moment, from his interior sanctuaries, coldly bids all - visitors “give up their weapons;” and shuts the door again. The weapons - given up form a heap: the convicted Chevaliers of the poniard keep - descending pellmell, with impetuous velocity; and at the bottom of all - staircases, the mixed multitude receives them, hustles, buffets, chases - and disperses them.<a href="#linknote-349" name="linknoteref-349" - id="linknoteref-349">[349]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such sight meets Lafayette, in the dusk of the evening, as he returns, - successful with difficulty at Vincennes: Sansculotte Scylla hardly - weathered, here is Aristocrat Charybdis gurgling under his lee! The - patient Hero of two Worlds almost loses temper. He accelerates, does not - retard, the flying Chevaliers; delivers, indeed, this or the other hunted - Loyalist of quality, but rates him in bitter words, such as the hour - suggested; such as no saloon could pardon. Hero ill-bested; hanging, so - to speak, in mid-air; hateful to Rich divinities above; hateful to - Indigent mortals below! Duke de Villequier, Gentleman of the Chamber, - gets such contumelious rating, in presence of all people there, that he - may see good first to exculpate himself in the Newspapers; then, that not - prospering, to retire over the Frontiers, and begin plotting at - Brussels.<a href="#linknote-350" name="linknoteref-350" - id="linknoteref-350">[350]</a> His Apartment will stand vacant; - usefuller, as we may find, than when it stood occupied. - </p> - - <p> - So fly the Chevaliers of the Poniard; hunted of Patriotic men, shamefully - in the thickening dusk. A dim miserable business; born of darkness; dying - away there in the thickening dusk and dimness! In the midst of which, - however, let the reader discern clearly one figure running for its life: - Crispin-Cataline d’Espréménil,—for the last time, or the last but - one. It is not yet three years since these same Centre Grenadiers, Gardes - Françaises then, marched him towards the Calypso Isles, in the gray of - the May morning; and he and they have got thus far. Buffeted, beaten - down, delivered by popular Pétion, he might well answer bitterly: ‘And I - too, Monsieur, have been carried on the People’s shoulders.’<a - href="#linknote-351" name="linknoteref-351" - id="linknoteref-351">[351]</a> A fact which popular Pétion, if he like, - can meditate. - </p> - - <p> - But happily, one way and another, the speedy night covers up this - ignominious Day of Poniards; and the Chevaliers escape, though - maltreated, with torn coat-skirts and heavy hearts, to their respective - dwelling-houses. Riot twofold is quelled; and little blood shed, if it be - not insignificant blood from the nose: Vincennes stands undemolished, - reparable; and the Hereditary Representative has not been stolen, nor the - Queen smuggled into Prison. A Day long remembered: commented on with loud - hahas and deep grumblings; with bitter scornfulness of triumph, bitter - rancour of defeat. Royalism, as usual, imputes it to d’Orléans and the - Anarchists intent on insulting Majesty: Patriotism, as usual, to - Royalists, and even Constitutionalists, intent on stealing Majesty to - Metz: we, also as usual, to Preternatural Suspicion, and Phoebus Apollo - having made himself like the Night. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus, however, has the reader seen, in an unexpected arena, on this last - day of February 1791, the Three long-contending elements of French - Society, dashed forth into singular comico-tragical collision; acting and - reacting openly to the eye. Constitutionalism, at once quelling - Sansculottic riot at Vincennes, and Royalist treachery from the - Tuileries, is great, this day, and prevails. As for poor Royalism, tossed - to and fro in that manner, its daggers all left in a heap, what can one - think of it? Every dog, the Adage says, has its day: <i>has</i> it; has - had it; or will have it. For the present, the day is Lafayette’s and the - Constitution’s. Nevertheless Hunger and Jacobinism, fast growing - fanatical, still work; their-day, were they once fanatical, will come. - Hitherto, in all tempests, Lafayette, like some divine Sea-ruler, raises - his serene head: the upper Æolus’s blasts fly back to their caves, like - foolish unbidden winds: the under sea-billows they had vexed into froth - allay themselves. But if, as we often write, the <i>sub</i>marine Titanic - Fire-powers came into play, the Ocean bed from beneath being - <i>burst?</i> If they hurled Poseidon Lafayette and his Constitution out - of Space; and, in the Titanic melee, sea were mixed with sky? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074"></a> - Chapter 2.3.VI.<br/> - Mirabeau. - </h3> - - <p> - The spirit of France waxes ever more acrid, fever-sick: towards the final - outburst of dissolution and delirium. Suspicion rules all minds: - contending parties cannot now commingle; stand separated sheer asunder, - eying one another, in most aguish mood, of cold terror or hot rage. - Counter-Revolution, Days of Poniards, Castries Duels; Flight of Mesdames, - of Monsieur and Royalty! Journalism shrills ever louder its cry of alarm. - The sleepless Dionysius’s Ear of the Forty-eight Sections, how feverishly - quick has it grown; convulsing with strange pangs the whole sick Body, as - in such sleeplessness and sickness, the ear will do! - </p> - - <p> - Since Royalists get Poniards made to order, and a Sieur Motier is no - better than he should be, shall not Patriotism too, even of the indigent - sort, have Pikes, secondhand Firelocks, in readiness for the worst? The - anvils ring, during this March month, with hammering of Pikes. A - Constitutional Municipality promulgated its Placard, that no citizen - except the “active or cash-citizen” was entitled to have arms; but there - rose, instantly responsive, such a tempest of astonishment from Club and - Section, that the Constitutional Placard, almost next morning, had to - cover itself up, and die away into inanity, in a second improved - edition.<a href="#linknote-352" name="linknoteref-352" - id="linknoteref-352">[352]</a> So the hammering continues; as all that it - betokens does. - </p> - - <p> - Mark, again, how the extreme tip of the Left is mounting in favour, if - not in its own National Hall, yet with the Nation, especially with Paris. - For in such universal panic of doubt, the opinion that is sure of itself, - as the meagrest opinion may the soonest be, is the one to which all men - will rally. Great is Belief, were it never so meagre; and leads captive - the doubting heart! Incorruptible Robespierre has been elected Public - Accuser in our new Courts of Judicature; virtuous Pétion, it is thought, - may rise to be Mayor. Cordelier Danton, called also by triumphant - majorities, sits at the Departmental Council-table; colleague there of - Mirabeau. Of incorruptible Robespierre it was long ago predicted that he - might go far, mean meagre mortal though he was; for Doubt dwelt not in - him. - </p> - - <p> - Under which circumstances ought not Royalty likewise to cease doubting, - and begin deciding and acting? Royalty has always that sure trump-card in - its hand: Flight out of Paris. Which sure trump-card, Royalty, as we see, - keeps ever and anon clutching at, grasping; and swashes it forth - tentatively; yet never tables it, still puts it back again. Play it, O - Royalty! If there be a chance left, this seems it, and verily the last - chance; and now every hour is rendering this a doubtfuller. Alas, one - would so fain both fly and not fly; play one’s card and have it to play. - Royalty, in all human likelihood, will not play its trump-card till the - honours, one after one, be mainly lost; and such trumping of it prove to - be the sudden finish of the game! - </p> - - <p> - Here accordingly a question always arises; of the prophetic sort; which - cannot now be answered. Suppose Mirabeau, with whom Royalty takes deep - counsel, as with a Prime Minister that cannot yet legally avow himself as - such, had got his arrangements <i>completed?</i> Arrangements he has; - far-stretching plans that dawn fitfully on us, by fragments, in the - confused darkness. Thirty Departments ready to sign loyal Addresses, of - prescribed tenor: King carried out of Paris, but only to Compiègne and - Rouen, hardly to Metz, since, once for all, no Emigrant rabble shall take - the lead in it: National Assembly consenting, by dint of loyal Addresses, - by management, by force of Bouillé, to hear reason, and follow thither!<a - href="#linknote-353" name="linknoteref-353" - id="linknoteref-353">[353]</a> Was it so, on <i>these</i> terms, that - Jacobinism and Mirabeau were then to grapple, in their - Hercules-and-Typhon duel; death inevitable for the one or the other? The - duel itself is determined on, and sure: but on what terms; much more, - with what issue, we in vain guess. It is vague darkness all: unknown what - is to be; unknown even what has already been. The giant Mirabeau walks in - darkness, as we said; companionless, on wild ways: what his thoughts - during these months were, no record of Biographer, not vague <i>Fils - Adoptif</i>, will now ever disclose. - </p> - - <p> - To us, endeavouring to cast his horoscope, it of course remains doubly - vague. There is one Herculean man, in internecine duel with him, there is - Monster after Monster. Emigrant Noblesse return, sword on thigh, vaunting - of their Loyalty never sullied; descending from the air, like - Harpy-swarms with ferocity, with obscene greed. Earthward there is the - Typhon of Anarchy, Political, Religious; sprawling hundred-headed, say - with Twenty-five million heads; wide as the area of France; fierce as - Frenzy; strong in very Hunger. With these shall the Serpent-queller do - battle continually, and expect no rest. - </p> - - <p> - As for the King, he as usual will go wavering chameleonlike; changing - colour and purpose with the colour of his environment;—good for no - Kingly use. On one royal person, on the Queen only, can Mirabeau perhaps - place dependance. It is possible, the greatness of this man, not - unskilled too in blandishments, courtiership, and graceful adroitness, - might, with most legitimate sorcery, fascinate the volatile Queen, and - fix her to him. She has courage for all noble daring; an eye and a heart: - the soul of Theresa’s Daughter. “<i>Faut il-donc</i>, Is it fated then,” - she passionately writes to her Brother, “that I with the blood I am come - of, with the sentiments I have, must live and die among such mortals?”<a - href="#linknote-354" name="linknoteref-354" - id="linknoteref-354">[354]</a> Alas, poor Princess, Yes. “She is the only - <i>man</i>,” as Mirabeau observes, “whom his Majesty has about him.” Of - one other man Mirabeau is still surer: of himself. There lies his - resources; sufficient or insufficient. - </p> - - <p> - Dim and great to the eye of Prophecy looks the future! A perpetual - life-and-death battle; confusion from above and from below;—mere - confused darkness for us; with here and there some streak of faint lurid - light. We see King perhaps laid aside; not tonsured, tonsuring is out of - fashion now; but say, sent away any whither, with handsome annual - allowance, and stock of smith-tools. We see a Queen and Dauphin, Regent - and Minor; a Queen “mounted on horseback,” in the din of battles, with - <i>Moriamur pro rege nostro!</i> “Such a day,” Mirabeau writes, “may - come.” - </p> - - <p> - Din of battles, wars more than civil, confusion from above and from - below: in such environment the eye of Prophecy sees Comte de Mirabeau, - like some Cardinal de Retz, stormfully maintain himself; with head - all-devising, heart all-daring, if not victorious, yet unvanquished, - while life is left him. The specialties and issues of it, no eye of - Prophecy can guess at: it is clouds, we repeat, and tempestuous night; - and in the middle of it, now visible, far darting, now labouring in - eclipse, is Mirabeau indomitably struggling to be - Cloud-Compeller!—One can say that, had Mirabeau lived, the History - of France and of the World had been different. Further, that the man - would have needed, as few men ever did, the whole compass of that same - “Art of Daring, <i>Art d’Oser</i>,” which he so prized; and likewise that - he, above all men then living, would have practised and manifested it. - Finally, that some substantiality, and no empty simulacrum of a formula, - would have been the result realised by him: a result you could have - loved, a result you could have hated; by no likelihood, a result you - could only have rejected with closed lips, and swept into quick - forgetfulness for ever. Had Mirabeau lived one other year! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0075" id="link2HCH0075"></a> - Chapter 2.3.VII.<br/> - Death of Mirabeau. - </h3> - - <p> - But Mirabeau could not live another year, any more than he could live - another thousand years. Men’s years are numbered, and the tale of - Mirabeau’s was now complete. Important, or unimportant; to be mentioned - in World-History for some centuries, or not to be mentioned there beyond - a day or two,—it matters not to peremptory Fate. From amid the - press of ruddy busy Life, the Pale Messenger beckons silently: - wide-spreading interests, projects, salvation of French Monarchies, what - thing soever man has on hand, he must suddenly quit it all, and go. Wert - thou saving French Monarchies; wert thou blacking shoes on the Pont Neuf! - The most important of men cannot stay; did the World’s History depend on - an hour, that hour is not to be given. Whereby, indeed, it comes that - these same <i>would-have-beens</i> are mostly a vanity; and the World’s - History could never in the least be what it would, or might, or should, - by any manner of potentiality, but simply and altogether what it - <i>is</i>. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The fierce wear and tear of such an existence has wasted out the giant - oaken strength of Mirabeau. A fret and fever that keeps heart and brain - on fire: excess of effort, of excitement; excess of all kinds: labour - incessant, almost beyond credibility! “If I had not lived with him,” says - Dumont, “I should never have known what a man can make of one day; what - things may be placed within the interval of twelve hours. A day for this - man was more than a week or a month is for others: the mass of things he - guided on together was prodigious; from the scheming to the executing not - a moment lost.” ‘Monsieur le Comte,’ said his Secretary to him once, - ‘what you require is impossible.’—‘Impossible!’ answered he - starting from his chair, ‘<i>Ne me dites jamais ce bête de mot</i>, Never - name to me that blockhead of a word.’<a href="#linknote-355" - name="linknoteref-355" id="linknoteref-355">[355]</a> And then the social - repasts; the dinner which he gives as Commandant of National Guards, - which “costs five hundred pounds;” alas, and “the Sirens of the Opera;” - and all the ginger that is hot in the mouth:—down what a course is - this man hurled! Cannot Mirabeau stop; cannot he fly, and save himself - alive? No! There is a Nessus’ Shirt on this Hercules; he must storm and - burn there, without rest, till he be consumed. Human strength, never so - Herculean, has its measure. Herald shadows flit pale across the - fire-brain of Mirabeau; heralds of the pale repose. While he tosses and - storms, straining every nerve, in that sea of ambition and confusion, - there comes, sombre and still, a monition that for him the issue of it - will be swift death. - </p> - - <p> - In January last, you might see him as President of the Assembly; “his - neck wrapt in linen cloths, at the evening session:” there was sick heat - of the blood, alternate darkening and flashing in the eye-sight; he had - to apply leeches, after the morning labour, and preside bandaged. “At - parting he embraced me,” says Dumont, “with an emotion I had never seen - in him: ‘I am dying, my friend; dying as by slow fire; we shall perhaps - not meet again. When I am gone, they will know what the value of me was. - The miseries I have held back will burst from all sides on France.’”<a - href="#linknote-356" name="linknoteref-356" - id="linknoteref-356">[356]</a> Sickness gives louder warning; but cannot - be listened to. On the 27th day of March, proceeding towards the - Assembly, he had to seek rest and help in Friend de Lamarck’s, by the - road; and lay there, for an hour, half-fainted, stretched on a sofa. To - the Assembly nevertheless he went, as if in spite of Destiny itself; - spoke, loud and eager, five several times; then quitted the - Tribune—for ever. He steps out, utterly exhausted, into the - Tuileries Gardens; many people press round him, as usual, with - applications, memorials; he says to the Friend who was with him: Take me - out of this! - </p> - - <p> - And so, on the last day of March 1791, endless anxious multitudes beset - the Rue de la Chaussée d’Antin; incessantly inquiring: within doors - there, in that House numbered in our time “42,” the over wearied giant - has fallen down, to die.<a href="#linknote-357" name="linknoteref-357" - id="linknoteref-357">[357]</a> Crowds, of all parties and kinds; of all - ranks from the King to the meanest man! The King sends publicly twice - a-day to inquire; privately besides: from the world at large there is no - end of inquiring. “A written bulletin is handed out every three hours,” - is copied and circulated; in the end, it is printed. The People - spontaneously keep silence; no carriage shall enter with its noise: there - is crowding pressure; but the Sister of Mirabeau is reverently - recognised, and has free way made for her. The People stand mute, - heart-stricken; to all it seems as if a great calamity were nigh: as if - the last man of France, who could have swayed these coming troubles, lay - there at hand-grips with the unearthly Power. - </p> - - <p> - The silence of a whole People, the wakeful toil of Cabanis, Friend and - Physician, skills not: on Saturday, the second day of April, Mirabeau - feels that the last of the Days has risen for him; that, on this day, he - has to depart and be no more. His death is Titanic, as his life has been. - Lit up, for the last time, in the glare of coming dissolution, the mind - of the man is all glowing and burning; utters itself in sayings, such as - men long remember. He longs to live, yet acquiesces in death, argues not - with the inexorable. His speech is wild and wondrous: unearthly Phantasms - dancing now their torch-dance round his soul; the soul itself looking - out, fire-radiant, motionless, girt together for that great hour! At - times comes a beam of light from him on the world he is quitting. ‘I - carry in my heart the death-dirge of the French Monarchy; the dead - remains of it will now be the spoil of the factious.’ Or again, when he - heard the cannon fire, what is characteristic too: ‘Have we the Achilles’ - Funeral already?’ So likewise, while some friend is supporting him: ‘Yes, - support that head; would I could bequeath it thee!’ For the man dies as - he has lived; self-conscious, conscious of a world looking on. He gazes - forth on the young Spring, which for him will never be Summer. The Sun - has risen; he says: ‘<i>Si ce n’est pas là Dieu, c’est du moins son - cousin germain</i>.’<a href="#linknote-358" name="linknoteref-358" - id="linknoteref-358">[358]</a>—Death has mastered the outworks; - power of speech is gone; the citadel of the heart still holding out: the - moribund giant, passionately, by sign, demands paper and pen; writes his - passionate demand for opium, to end these agonies. The sorrowful Doctor - shakes his head: <i>Dormir</i> “To sleep,” writes the other, passionately - pointing at it! So dies a gigantic Heathen and Titan; stumbling blindly, - undismayed, down to his rest. At half-past eight in the morning, Dr. - Petit, standing at the foot of the bed, says ‘<i>Il ne souffre plus</i>.’ - His suffering and his working are now ended. - </p> - - <p> - Even so, ye silent Patriot multitudes, all ye men of France; this man is - rapt away from you. He has fallen suddenly, without bending till he - broke; as a tower falls, smitten by sudden lightning. His word ye shall - hear no more, his guidance follow no more.—The multitudes depart, - heartstruck; spread the sad tidings. How touching is the loyalty of men - to their Sovereign Man! All theatres, public amusements close; no joyful - meeting can be held in these nights, joy is not for them: the People - break in upon private dancing-parties, and sullenly command that they - cease. Of such dancing-parties apparently but two came to light; and - these also have gone out. The gloom is universal: never in this City was - such sorrow for one death; never since that old night when Louis XII. - departed, “and the <i>Crieurs des Corps</i> went sounding their bells, - and crying along the streets: <i>Le bon roi Louis, père du peuple, est - mort</i>, The good King Louis, Father of the People, is dead!”<a - href="#linknote-359" name="linknoteref-359" - id="linknoteref-359">[359]</a> King Mirabeau is now the lost King; and - one may say with little exaggeration, all the People mourns for him. - </p> - - <p> - For three days there is low wide moan: weeping in the National Assembly - itself. The streets are all mournful; orators mounted on the - <i>bornes</i>, with large silent audience, preaching the funeral sermon - of the dead. Let no coachman whip fast, distractively with his rolling - wheels, or almost at all, through these groups! His traces may be cut; - himself and his fare, as incurable Aristocrats, hurled sulkily into the - kennels. The bourne-stone orators speak as it is given them; the - Sansculottic People, with its rude soul, listens eager,—as men will - to any Sermon, or <i>Sermo</i>, when it <i>is</i> a spoken Word meaning a - Thing, and not a Babblement meaning No-thing. In the Restaurateur’s of - the Palais Royal, the waiter remarks, ‘Fine weather, - Monsieur:’—‘Yes, my friend,’ answers the ancient Man of Letters, - ‘very fine; but Mirabeau is dead.’ Hoarse rhythmic threnodies comes also - from the throats of balladsingers; are sold on gray-white paper at a - <i>sou</i> each.<a href="#linknote-360" name="linknoteref-360" - id="linknoteref-360">[360]</a> But of Portraits, engraved, painted, hewn, - and written; of Eulogies, Reminiscences, Biographies, nay - <i>Vaudevilles</i>, Dramas and Melodramas, in all Provinces of France, - there will, through these coming months, be the due immeasurable crop; - thick as the leaves of Spring. Nor, that a tincture of burlesque might be - in it, is Gobel’s Episcopal <i>Mandement</i> wanting; goose Gobel, who - has just been made Constitutional Bishop of Paris. A Mandement wherein - <i>Ça ira</i> alternates very strangely with <i>Nomine Domini</i>, and - you are, with a grave countenance, invited to “rejoice at possessing in - the midst of you a body of Prelates created by Mirabeau, zealous - followers of his doctrine, faithful imitators of his virtues.”<a - href="#linknote-361" name="linknoteref-361" - id="linknoteref-361">[361]</a> So speaks, and cackles manifold, the - Sorrow of France; wailing articulately, inarticulately, as it can, that a - Sovereign Man is snatched away. In the National Assembly, when difficult - questions are astir, all eyes will “turn mechanically to the place where - Mirabeau sat,”—and Mirabeau is absent now. - </p> - - <p> - On the third evening of the lamentation, the fourth of April, there is - solemn Public Funeral; such as deceased mortal seldom had. Procession of - a league in length; of mourners reckoned loosely at a hundred thousand! - All roofs are thronged with onlookers, all windows, lamp-irons, branches - of trees. “Sadness is painted on every countenance; many persons weep.” - There is double hedge of National Guards; there is National Assembly in a - body; Jacobin Society, and Societies; King’s Ministers, Municipals, and - all Notabilities, Patriot or Aristocrat. Bouillé is noticeable there, - “with his hat on;” say, hat drawn over his brow, hiding many thoughts! - Slow-wending, in religious silence, the Procession of a league in length, - under the level sun-rays, for it is five o’clock, moves and marches: with - its sable plumes; itself in a religious silence; but, by fits, with the - muffled roll of drums, by fits with some long-drawn wail of music, and - strange new clangour of trombones, and metallic dirge-voice; amid the - infinite hum of men. In the Church of Saint-Eustache, there is funeral - oration by Cerutti; and discharge of fire-arms, which “brings down pieces - of the plaster.” Thence, forward again to the Church of Sainte-Genevieve; - which has been consecrated, by supreme decree, on the spur of this time, - into a Pantheon for the Great Men of the Fatherland, <i>Aux Grands Hommes - la Patrie réconnaissante</i>. Hardly at midnight is the business done; - and Mirabeau left in his dark dwelling: first tenant of that Fatherland’s - Pantheon. - </p> - - <p> - Tenant, alas, who inhabits but at will, and shall be cast out! For, in - these days of convulsion and disjection, not even the dust of the dead is - permitted to rest. Voltaire’s bones are, by and by, to be carried from - their stolen grave in the Abbéy of Scellières, to an eager - <i>stealing</i> grave, in Paris his birth-city: all mortals processioning - and perorating there; cars drawn by eight white horses, goadsters in - classical costume, with fillets and wheat-ears enough;—though the - weather is of the wettest.<a href="#linknote-362" name="linknoteref-362" - id="linknoteref-362">[362]</a> Evangelist Jean Jacques, too, as is most - proper, must be dug up from Ermenonville, and processioned, with pomp, - with sensibility, to the Pantheon of the Fatherland.<a - href="#linknote-363" name="linknoteref-363" - id="linknoteref-363">[363]</a> He and others: while again Mirabeau, we - say, is cast forth from it, happily incapable of being replaced; and - rests now, irrecognisable, reburied hastily at dead of night, in the - central “part of the Churchyard Sainte-Catherine, in the Suburb - Saint-Marceau,” to be disturbed no further. - </p> - - <p> - So blazes out, farseen, a Man’s Life, and becomes ashes and a <i>caput - mortuum</i>, in this World-Pyre, which we name French Revolution: not the - first that consumed itself there; nor, by thousands and many millions, - the last! A man who “had swallowed all formulas;” who, in these strange - times and circumstances, felt called to live Titanically, and also to die - so. As he, for his part had swallowed all formulas, what Formula is - there, never so comprehensive, that will express truly the <i>plus</i> - and the <i>minus</i>, give us the accurate net-result of him? There is - hitherto none such. Moralities not a few must shriek condemnatory over - this Mirabeau; the Morality by which he could be judged has not yet got - uttered in the speech of men. We shall say this of him, again: That he is - a Reality, and no Simulacrum: a living son of Nature our general Mother; - not a hollow Artfice, and mechanism of Conventionalities, son of nothing, - <i>brother</i> to nothing. In which little word, let the earnest man, - walking sorrowful in a world mostly of “Stuffed Clothes-suits,” that - chatter and grin meaningless on him, quite <i>ghastly</i> to the earnest - soul,—think what significance there is! - </p> - - <p> - Of men who, in such sense, are alive, and see with eyes, the number is - now not great: it may be well, if in this huge French Revolution itself, - with its all-developing fury, we find some Three. Mortals driven rabid we - find; sputtering the acridest logic; baring their breast to the - battle-hail, their neck to the guillotine; of whom it is so painful to - say that they too are still, in good part, manufactured Formalities, not - Facts but Hearsays! - </p> - - <p> - Honour to the strong man, in these ages, who has shaken himself loose of - shams, and is something. For in the way of being <i>worthy</i>, the first - condition surely is that one <i>be</i>. Let Cant cease, at all risks and - at all costs: till Cant cease, nothing else can begin. Of human - Criminals, in these centuries, writes the Moralist, I find but one - unforgivable: the Quack. “Hateful to God,” as divine Dante sings, “and to - the Enemies of God, - </p> - - <p class="poem"> - ‘A Dio spiacente ed a’ nemici sui!’ - </p> - - <p> - But whoever will, with sympathy, which is the first essential towards - insight, look at this questionable Mirabeau, may find that there lay - verily in him, as the basis of all, a Sincerity, a great free - Earnestness; nay call it Honesty, for the man did before all things see, - with that clear flashing vision, into what was, into what existed as - fact; and did, with his wild heart, follow that and no other. Whereby on - what ways soever he travels and struggles, often enough falling, he is - still a brother man. Hate him not; thou canst not hate him! Shining - through such soil and tarnish, and now victorious effulgent, and oftenest - struggling eclipsed, the light of genius itself is in this man; which was - never yet base and hateful: but at worst was lamentable, loveable with - pity. They say that he was ambitious, that he wanted to be Minister. It - is most true; and was he not simply the one man in France who could have - done any good as Minister? Not vanity alone, not pride alone; far from - that! Wild burstings of affection were in this great heart; of fierce - lightning, and soft dew of pity. So sunk, bemired in wretchedest - defacements, it may be said of him, like the Magdalen of old, that he - loved much: his Father the harshest of old crabbed men he loved with - warmth, with veneration. - </p> - - <p> - Be it that his falls and follies are manifold,—as himself often - lamented even with tears.<a href="#linknote-364" name="linknoteref-364" - id="linknoteref-364">[364]</a> Alas, is not the Life of every such man - already a poetic Tragedy; made up “of Fate and of one’s own Deservings,” - of <i>Schicksal und eigene Schuld;</i> full of the elements of Pity and - Fear? This brother man, if not Epic for us, is Tragic; if not great, is - large; large in his qualities, world-large in his destinies. Whom other - men, recognising him as such, may, through long times, remember, and draw - nigh to examine and consider: these, in their several dialects, will say - of him and sing of him,—till the right thing be said; and so the - Formula that <i>can</i> judge him be no longer an undiscovered one. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Here then the wild Gabriel Honoré drops from the tissue of our History; - not without a tragic farewell. He is gone: the flower of the wild - Riquetti or Arrighetti kindred; which seems as if in him, with one last - effort, it had done its best, and then expired, or sunk down to the - undistinguished level. Crabbed old Marquis Mirabeau, the Friend of Men, - sleeps sound. The Bailli Mirabeau, worthy uncle, will soon die forlorn, - alone. Barrel-Mirabeau, already gone across the Rhine, his Regiment of - Emigrants will drive nigh desperate. “Barrel-Mirabeau,” says a biographer - of his, “went indignantly across the Rhine, and drilled Emigrant - Regiments. But as he sat one morning in his tent, sour of stomach - doubtless and of heart, meditating in Tartarean humour on the turn things - took, a certain Captain or Subaltern demanded admittance on business. - Such Captain is refused; he again demands, with refusal; and then again, - till Colonel Viscount Barrel-Mirabeau, blazing up into a mere burning - brandy barrel, clutches his sword, and tumbles out on this - <i>canaille</i> of an intruder,—alas, on the <i>canaille</i> of an - intruder’s sword’s point, who had drawn with swift dexterity; and dies, - and the Newspapers name it <i>apoplexy</i> and <i>alarming accident</i>.” - So die the Mirabeaus. - </p> - - <p> - New Mirabeaus one hears not of: the wild kindred, as we said, is gone out - with this its greatest. As families and kindreds sometimes do; producing, - after long ages of unnoted notability, some living quintescence of all - the qualities they had, to flame forth as a man world-noted; after whom - they rest as if exhausted; the sceptre passing to others. The chosen Last - of the Mirabeaus is gone; the chosen man of France is gone. It was he who - shook old France from its basis; and, as if with his single hand, has - held it toppling there, still unfallen. What things depended on that one - man! He is as a ship suddenly shivered on sunk rocks: much swims on the - waste waters, far from help. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"></a> - BOOK 2.IV.<br/> - VARENNES - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0076" id="link2HCH0076"></a> - Chapter 2.4.I.<br/> - Easter at Saint-Cloud. - </h3> - - <p> - The French Monarchy may now therefore be considered as, in all human - probability, lost; as struggling henceforth in blindness as well as - weakness, the last light of reasonable guidance having gone out. What - remains of resources their poor Majesties will waste still further, in - uncertain loitering and wavering. Mirabeau himself had to complain that - they only gave him half confidence, and always had some plan within his - plan. Had they fled frankly with him, to Rouen or anywhither, long ago! - They may fly now with chance immeasurably lessened; which will go on - lessening towards absolute zero. Decide, O Queen; poor Louis can decide - nothing: execute this Flight-project, or at least abandon it. - Correspondence with Bouillé there has been enough; what profits - consulting, and hypothesis, while all around is in fierce activity of - practice? The Rustic sits waiting till the river run dry: alas with you - it is not a common river, but a Nile Inundation; snow melting in the - unseen mountains; till all, and you where you sit, be submerged. - </p> - - <p> - Many things invite to flight. The voice Journals invites; Royalist - Journals proudly hinting it as a threat, Patriot Journals rabidly - denouncing it as a terror. Mother Society, waxing more and more emphatic, - invites;—so emphatic that, as was prophesied, Lafayette and your - limited Patriots have ere long to branch off from her, and form - themselves into Feuillans; with infinite public controversy; the victory - in which, doubtful though it look, will remain with the <i>un</i>limited - Mother. Moreover, ever since the Day of Poniards, we have seen unlimited - Patriotism openly equipping itself with arms. Citizens denied “activity,” - which is facetiously made to signify a certain weight of purse, cannot - buy blue uniforms, and be Guardsmen; but man is greater than blue cloth; - man can fight, if need be, in multiform cloth, or even almost without - cloth—as Sansculotte. So Pikes continued to be hammered, whether - those Dirks of improved structure with barbs be “meant for the West-India - market,” or not meant. Men beat, the wrong way, their ploughshares into - swords. Is there not what we may call an “Austrian Committee,” <i>Comité - Autrichein</i>, sitting daily and nightly in the Tuileries? Patriotism, - by vision and suspicion, knows it too well! If the King fly, will there - not be Aristocrat-Austrian Invasion; butchery, replacement of Feudalism; - wars more than civil? The hearts of men are saddened and maddened. - </p> - - <p> - Dissident Priests likewise give trouble enough. Expelled from their - Parish Churches, where Constitutional Priests, elected by the Public, - have replaced them, these unhappy persons resort to Convents of Nuns, or - other such receptacles; and there, on Sabbath, collecting assemblages of - Anti-Constitutional individuals, who have grown devout all on a sudden,<a - href="#linknote-365" name="linknoteref-365" - id="linknoteref-365">[365]</a> they worship or pretend to worship in - their strait-laced contumacious manner; to the scandal of Patriotism. - Dissident Priests, passing along with their sacred wafer for the dying, - seem wishful to be massacred in the streets; wherein Patriotism will not - gratify them. Slighter palm of martyrdom, however, shall not be denied: - martyrdom not of massacre, yet of fustigation. At the refractory places - of worship, Patriot men appear; Patriot women with strong hazel wands, - which they apply. Shut thy eyes, O Reader; see not this misery, peculiar - to these later times,—of martyrdom without sincerity, with only - cant and contumacy! A dead Catholic Church is not allowed to lie dead; - no, it is <i>galvanised</i> into the detestablest death-life; whereat - Humanity, we say, shuts its eyes. For the Patriot women take their hazel - wands, and fustigate, amid laughter of bystanders, with alacrity: broad - bottom of Priests; alas, Nuns too reversed, and <i>cotillons - retroussés!</i> The National Guard does what it can: Municipality - “invokes the Principles of Toleration;” grants Dissident worshippers the - Church of the <i>Théatins;</i> promising protection. But it is to no - purpose: at the door of that <i>Théatins;</i> Church, appears a Placard, - and suspended atop, like Plebeian Consular <i>fasces</i>,—a Bundle - of Rods! The Principles of Toleration must do the best they may: but no - Dissident man shall worship contumaciously; there is a <i>Plebiscitum</i> - to that effect; which, though unspoken, is like the laws of the Medes and - Persians. Dissident contumacious Priests ought not to be harboured, even - in private, by any man: the Club of the Cordeliers openly denounces - Majesty himself as doing it.<a href="#linknote-366" - name="linknoteref-366" id="linknoteref-366">[366]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Many things invite to flight: but probably this thing above all others, - that it has become impossible! On the 15th of April, notice is given that - his Majesty, who has suffered much from catarrh lately, will enjoy the - Spring weather, for a few days, at Saint-Cloud. Out at Saint-Cloud? - Wishing to celebrate his Easter, his <i>Pâques</i>, or Pasch, there; with - refractory Anti-Constitutional Dissidents?—Wishing rather to make - off for Compiègne, and thence to the Frontiers? As were, in good sooth, - perhaps feasible, or would once have been; nothing but some two - <i>chasseurs</i> attending you; chasseurs easily corrupted! It is a - pleasant possibility, execute it or not. Men say there are thirty - thousand Chevaliers of the Poniard lurking in the woods there: lurking in - the woods, and thirty thousand,—for the human Imagination is not - fettered. But now, how easily might these, dashing out on Lafayette, - snatch off the Hereditary Representative; and roll away with him, after - the manner of a whirlblast, whither they listed!—Enough, it were - well the King did not go. Lafayette is forewarned and forearmed: but, - indeed, is the risk his only; or his and all France’s? - </p> - - <p> - Monday the eighteenth of April is come; the Easter Journey to Saint-Cloud - shall take effect. National Guard has got its orders; a First Division, - as Advanced Guard, has even marched, and probably arrived. His Majesty’s - <i>Maison-bouche</i>, they say, is all busy stewing and frying at - Saint-Cloud; the King’s Dinner not far from ready there. About one - o’clock, the Royal Carriage, with its eight royal blacks, shoots stately - into the Place du Carrousel; draws up to receive its royal burden. But - hark! From the neighbouring Church of Saint-Roch, the tocsin begins - ding-donging. Is the King stolen then; he is going; gone? Multitudes of - persons crowd the Carrousel: the Royal Carriage still stands - there;—and, by Heaven’s strength, shall stand! - </p> - - <p> - Lafayette comes up, with aide-de-camps and oratory; pervading the groups: - ‘<i>Taisez vous</i>,’ answer the groups, ‘the King shall not go.’ - Monsieur appears, at an upper window: ten thousand voices bray and - shriek, ‘<i>Nous ne voulons pas que le Roi parte</i>.’ Their Majesties - have mounted. Crack go the whips; but twenty Patriot arms have seized - each of the eight bridles: there is rearing, rocking, vociferation; not - the smallest headway. In vain does Lafayette fret, indignant; and - perorate and strive: Patriots in the passion of terror, bellow round the - Royal Carriage; it is one bellowing sea of Patriot terror run frantic. - Will Royalty fly off towards Austria; like a lit rocket, towards endless - Conflagration of Civil War? Stop it, ye Patriots, in the name of Heaven! - Rude voices passionately apostrophise Royalty itself. Usher Campan, and - other the like official persons, pressing forward with help or advice, - are clutched by the sashes, and hurled and whirled, in a confused - perilous manner; so that her Majesty has to plead passionately from the - carriage-window. - </p> - - <p> - Order cannot be heard, cannot be followed; National Guards know not how - to act. Centre Grenadiers, of the Observatoire Battalion, are there; not - on duty; alas, in quasi-mutiny; speaking rude disobedient words; - threatening the mounted Guards with sharp shot if they hurt the people. - Lafayette mounts and dismounts; runs haranguing, panting; on the verge of - despair. For an hour and three-quarters; “seven quarters of an hour,” by - the Tuileries Clock! Desperate Lafayette will open a passage, were it by - the cannon’s mouth, if his Majesty will order. Their Majesties, - counselled to it by Royalist friends, by Patriot foes, dismount; and - retire in, with heavy indignant heart; giving up the enterprise. - <i>Maison-bouche</i> may eat that cooked dinner themselves; his Majesty - shall not see Saint-Cloud this day,—or any day.<a - href="#linknote-367" name="linknoteref-367" - id="linknoteref-367">[367]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The pathetic fable of imprisonment in one’s own Palace has become a sad - fact, then? Majesty complains to Assembly; Municipality deliberates, - proposes to petition or address; Sections respond with sullen brevity of - negation. Lafayette flings down his Commission; appears in civic - pepper-and-salt frock; and cannot be flattered back again;—not in - less than three days; and by unheard-of entreaty; National Guards - kneeling to him, and declaring that it is not sycophancy, that they are - free men kneeling here to the <i>Statue of Liberty</i>. For the rest, - those Centre Grenadiers of the Observatoire are disbanded,—yet - indeed are reinlisted, all but fourteen, under a new name, and with new - quarters. The King must keep his Easter in Paris: meditating much on this - singular posture of things: but as good as determined now to fly from it, - desire being whetted by difficulty. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0077" id="link2HCH0077"></a> - Chapter 2.4.II.<br/> - Easter at Paris. - </h3> - - <p> - For above a year, ever since March 1790, it would seem, there has hovered - a project of Flight before the royal mind; and ever and anon has been - condensing itself into something like a purpose; but this or the other - difficulty always vaporised it again. It seems so full of risks, perhaps - of civil war itself; above all, it cannot be done without effort. - Somnolent laziness will not serve: to fly, if not in a leather - <i>vache</i>, one must verily stir himself. Better to adopt that - Constitution of theirs; execute it so as to shew all men that it is - inexecutable? Better or not so good; surely it is <i>easier</i>. To all - difficulties you need only say, There is a lion in the path, behold your - Constitution will not act! For a somnolent person it requires no effort - to counterfeit death,—as Dame de Staël and Friends of Liberty can - see the King’s Government long doing, <i>faisant le mort</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Nay now, when desire whetted by difficulty has brought the matter to a - head, and the royal mind no longer halts between two, what can come of - it? Grant that poor Louis were safe with Bouillé, what on the whole could - he look for there? Exasperated Tickets of Entry answer, Much, all. But - cold Reason answers, Little almost nothing. Is not loyalty a law of - Nature? ask the Tickets of Entry. Is not love of your King, and even - death for him, the glory of all Frenchmen,—except these few - Democrats? Let Democrat Constitution-builders see what they will do - without their Keystone; and France rend its hair, having lost the - Hereditary Representative! - </p> - - <p> - Thus will King Louis fly; one sees not reasonably towards what. As a - maltreated Boy, shall we say, who, having a Stepmother, rushes sulky into - the wide world; and will wring the paternal heart?—Poor Louis - escapes from known unsupportable evils, to an unknown mixture of good and - evil, coloured by Hope. He goes, as Rabelais did when dying, to seek a - great May-be: <i>je vais chercher un grand Peut-être!</i> As not only the - sulky Boy but the wise grown Man is obliged to do, so often, in - emergencies. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, there is still no lack of stimulants, and stepdame - maltreatments, to keep one’s resolution at the due pitch. Factious - disturbance ceases not: as indeed how can they, unless authoritatively - <i>conjured</i>, in a Revolt which is by nature bottomless? If the - ceasing of faction be the price of the King’s somnolence, he may awake - when he will, and take wing. - </p> - - <p> - Remark, in any case, what somersets and contortions a dead Catholicism is - making,—skilfully galvanised: hideous, and even piteous, to behold! - Jurant and Dissident, with their shaved crowns, argue frothing - everywhere; or are ceasing to argue, and stripping for battle. In Paris - was scourging while need continued: contrariwise, in the Morbihan of - Brittany, without scourging, armed Peasants are up, roused by - pulpit-drum, they know not why. General Dumouriez, who has got missioned - thitherward, finds all in sour heat of darkness; finds also that - explanation and conciliation will still do much.<a href="#linknote-368" - name="linknoteref-368" id="linknoteref-368">[368]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But again, consider this: that his Holiness, Pius Sixth, has seen good to - excommunicate Bishop Talleyrand! Surely, we will say then, considering - it, there is no living or dead Church in the Earth that has not the - indubitablest right to excommunicate Talleyrand. Pope Pius has right and - might, in his way. But truly so likewise has Father Adam, - <i>ci-devant</i> Marquis Saint-Huruge, in his way. Behold, therefore, on - the Fourth of May, in the Palais-Royal, a mixed loud-sounding multitude; - in the middle of whom, Father Adam, bull-voiced Saint-Huruge, in white - hat, towers visible and audible. With him, it is said, walks Journalist - Gorsas, walk many others of the washed sort; for no authority will - interfere. Pius Sixth, with his plush and tiara, and power of the Keys, - they bear aloft: of natural size,—made of lath and combustible gum. - Royou, the King’s Friend, is borne too in effigy; with a pile of - Newspaper <i>King’s-Friends</i>, condemned numbers of the - <i>Ami-du-Roi;</i> fit fuel of the sacrifice. Speeches are spoken; a - judgment is held, a doom proclaimed, audible in bull-voice, towards the - four winds. And thus, amid great shouting, the holocaust is consummated, - under the summer sky; and our lath-and-gum Holiness, with the attendant - victims, mounts up in flame, and sinks down in ashes; a decomposed Pope: - and right or might, among all the parties, has better or worse - accomplished itself, as it could.<a href="#linknote-369" - name="linknoteref-369" id="linknoteref-369">[369]</a> But, on the whole, - reckoning from Martin Luther in the Marketplace of Wittenberg to Marquis - Saint-Huruge in this Palais-Royal of Paris, what a journey have we gone; - into what strange territories has it carried us! No Authority can now - interfere. Nay Religion herself, mourning for such things, may after all - ask, What have <i>I</i> to do with them? - </p> - - <p> - In such extraordinary manner does dead Catholicism somerset and caper, - skilfully galvanised. For, does the reader inquire into the - subject-matter of controversy in this case; what the difference between - Orthodoxy or <i>My-doxy</i> and Heterodoxy or <i>Thy-doxy</i> might here - be? My-doxy is that an august National Assembly can equalize the extent - of Bishopricks; that an equalized Bishop, his Creed and Formularies being - left quite as they were, can swear Fidelity to King, Law and Nation, and - so become a Constitutional Bishop. Thy-doxy, if thou be Dissident, is - that he cannot; but that he must become an accursed thing. Human - ill-nature needs but some Homoiousian <i>iota</i>, or even the pretence - of one; and will flow copiously through the eye of a needle: thus always - must mortals go jargoning and fuming, - </p> - - <p class="poem"> - And, like the ancient Stoics in their porches<br/> - With fierce dispute maintain their churches.<br/> - </p> - - <p> - This <i>Auto-da-fé</i> of Saint-Huruge’s was on the Fourth of May, 1791. - Royalty sees it; but says nothing. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0078" id="link2HCH0078"></a> - Chapter 2.4.III.<br/> - Count Fersen. - </h3> - - <p> - Royalty, in fact, should, by this time, be far on with its preparations. - Unhappily much preparation is needful: could a Hereditary Representative - be carried in leather <i>vache</i>, how easy were it! But it is not so. - </p> - - <p> - New clothes are needed, as usual, in all Epic transactions, were it in - the grimmest iron ages; consider “Queen Chrimhilde, with her sixty - semstresses,” in that iron <i>Nibelungen Song!</i> No Queen can stir - without new clothes. Therefore, now, Dame Campan whisks assiduous to this - mantua-maker and to that: and there is clipping of frocks and gowns, - upper clothes and under, great and small; such a clipping and sewing, as - might have been dispensed with. Moreover, her Majesty cannot go a step - anywhither without her <i>Nécessaire;</i> dear <i>Nécessaire</i>, of - inlaid ivory and rosewood; cunningly devised; which holds perfumes, - toilet-implements, infinite small queenlike furnitures: Necessary to - terrestrial life. Not without a cost of some five hundred louis, of much - precious time, and difficult hoodwinking which does not blind, can this - same Necessary of life be forwarded by the Flanders Carriers,—never - to get to hand.<a href="#linknote-370" name="linknoteref-370" - id="linknoteref-370">[370]</a> All which, you would say, augurs ill for - the prospering of the enterprise. But the whims of women and queens must - be humoured. - </p> - - <p> - Bouillé, on his side, is making a fortified Camp at Montmédi; gathering - Royal-Allemand, and all manner of other German and true French Troops - thither, “to watch the Austrians.” His Majesty will not cross the - Frontiers, unless on compulsion. Neither shall the Emigrants be much - employed, hateful as they are to all people.<a href="#linknote-371" - name="linknoteref-371" id="linknoteref-371">[371]</a> Nor shall old - war-god Broglie have any hand in the business; but solely our brave - Bouillé; to whom, on the day of meeting, a Marshal’s Baton shall be - delivered, by a rescued King, amid the shouting of all the troops. In the - meanwhile, Paris being so suspicious, were it not perhaps good to write - your Foreign Ambassadors an ostensible Constitutional Letter; desiring - all Kings and men to take heed that King Louis loves the Constitution, - that he has voluntarily sworn, and does again swear, to maintain the - same, and will reckon those his enemies who affect to say otherwise? Such - a Constitutional circular is despatched by Couriers, is communicated - confidentially to the Assembly, and printed in all Newspapers; with the - finest effect.<a href="#linknote-372" name="linknoteref-372" - id="linknoteref-372">[372]</a> Simulation and dissimulation mingle - extensively in human affairs. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - We observe, however, that Count Fersen is often using his Ticket of - Entry; which surely he has clear right to do. A gallant Soldier and - Swede, devoted to this fair Queen;—as indeed the Highest Swede now - is. Has not King Gustav, famed fiery <i>Chevalier du Nord</i>, sworn - himself, by the old laws of chivalry, her Knight? He will descend on - fire-wings, of Swedish musketry, and deliver her from these foul - dragons,—if, alas, the assassin’s pistol intervene not! - </p> - - <p> - But, in fact, Count Fersen does seem a likely young soldier, of alert - decisive ways: he circulates widely, seen, unseen; and has business on - hand. Also Colonel the Duke de Choiseul, nephew of Choiseul the great, of - Choiseul the now deceased; he and Engineer Goguelat are passing and - repassing between Metz and the Tuileries; and Letters go in - cipher,—one of them, a most important one, hard to <i>de</i>cipher; - Fersen having ciphered it in haste.<a href="#linknote-373" - name="linknoteref-373" id="linknoteref-373">[373]</a> As for Duke de - Villequier, he is gone ever since the Day of Poniards; but his Apartment - is useful for her Majesty. - </p> - - <p> - On the other side, poor Commandment Gouvion, watching at the Tuileries, - second in National Command, sees several things hard to interpret. It is - the same Gouvion who sat, long months ago, at the Townhall, gazing - helpless into that Insurrection of Women; motionless, as the brave - stabled steed when conflagration rises, till Usher Maillard snatched his - drum. Sincerer Patriot there is not; but many a shiftier. He, if Dame - Campan gossip credibly, is paying some similitude of love-court to a - certain false Chambermaid of the Palace, who betrays much to him: the - <i>Nécessaire</i>, the clothes, the packing of the jewels,<a - href="#linknote-374" name="linknoteref-374" - id="linknoteref-374">[374]</a>—could he understand it when - betrayed. Helpless Gouvion gazes with sincere glassy eyes into it; stirs - up his sentries to vigilence; walks restless to and fro; and hopes the - best. - </p> - - <p> - But, on the whole, one finds that, in the second week of June, Colonel de - Choiseul is privately in Paris; having come “to see his children.” Also - that Fersen has got a stupendous new Coach built, of the kind named - <i>Berline;</i> done by the first artists; according to a model: they - bring it home to him, in Choiseul’s presence; the two friends take a - proof-drive in it, along the streets; in meditative mood; then send it up - to “Madame Sullivan’s, in the Rue de Clichy,” far North, to wait there - till wanted. Apparently a certain Russian Baroness de Korff, with - Waiting-woman, Valet, and two Children, will travel homewards with some - state: in whom these young military gentlemen take interest? A Passport - has been procured for her; and much assistance shewn, with Coach-builders - and such like;—so helpful polite are young military men. Fersen has - likewise purchased a Chaise fit for two, at least for two waiting-maids; - further, certain necessary horses: one would say, he is himself quitting - France, not without outlay? We observe finally that their Majesties, - Heaven willing, will assist at <i>Corpus-Christi Day</i>, this blessed - Summer Solstice, in Assumption Church, here at Paris, to the joy of all - the world. For which same day, moreover, brave Bouillé, at Metz, as we - find, has invited a party of friends to dinner; but indeed is gone from - home, in the interim, over to Montmédi. - </p> - - <p> - These are of the Phenomena, or visual Appearances, of this wide-working - terrestrial world: which truly is all phenomenal, what they call - spectral; and never rests at any moment; one never at any moment can know - why. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - On Monday night, the Twentieth of June 1791, about eleven o’clock, there - is many a hackney-coach, and glass-coach (<i>carrosse de remise</i>), - still rumbling, or at rest, on the streets of Paris. But of all - Glass-coaches, we recommend this to thee, O Reader, which stands drawn - up, in the Rue de l’Echelle, hard by the Carrousel and outgate of the - Tuileries; in the Rue de l’Echelle that then was; “opposite Ronsin the - saddler’s door,” as if waiting for a fare there! Not long does it wait: a - hooded Dame, with two hooded Children has issued from Villequier’s door, - where no sentry walks, into the Tuileries Court-of-Princes; into the - Carrousel; into the Rue de l’Echelle; where the Glass-coachman readily - admits them; and again waits. Not long; another Dame, likewise hooded or - shrouded, leaning on a servant, issues in the same manner, by the - Glass-coachman, cheerfully admitted. Whither go, so many Dames? ’Tis His - Majesty’s <i>Couchée</i>, Majesty just gone to bed, and all the - Palace-world is retiring home. But the Glass-coachman still waits; his - fare seemingly incomplete. - </p> - - <p> - By and by, we note a thickset Individual, in round hat and peruke, - arm-and-arm with some servant, seemingly of the Runner or Courier sort; - he also issues through Villequier’s door; starts a shoebuckle as he - passes one of the sentries, stoops down to clasp it again; is however, by - the Glass-coachman, still more cheerfully admitted. And <i>now</i>, is - his fare complete? Not yet; the Glass-coachman still waits.—Alas! - and the false Chambermaid has warned Gouvion that she thinks the Royal - Family will fly this very night; and Gouvion distrusting his own glazed - eyes, has sent express for Lafayette; and Lafayette’s Carriage, flaring - with lights, rolls this moment through the inner Arch of the - Carrousel,—where a Lady shaded in broad gypsy-hat, and leaning on - the arm of a servant, also of the Runner or Courier sort, stands aside to - let it pass, and has even the whim to touch a spoke of it with her - <i>badine</i>,—light little magic rod which she calls - <i>badine</i>, such as the Beautiful then wore. The flare of Lafayette’s - Carriage, rolls past: all is found quiet in the Court-of-Princes; - sentries at their post; Majesties’ Apartments closed in smooth rest. Your - false Chambermaid must have been mistaken? Watch thou, Gouvion, with - Argus’ vigilance; for, of a truth, treachery is within these walls. - </p> - - <p> - But where is the Lady that stood aside in gypsy hat, and touched the - wheel-spoke with her <i>badine?</i> O Reader, that Lady that touched the - wheel-spoke was the Queen of France! She has issued safe through that - inner Arch, into the Carrousel itself; but not into the Rue de l’Echelle. - Flurried by the rattle and rencounter, she took the right hand not the - left; neither she nor her Courier knows Paris; he indeed is no Courier, - but a loyal stupid <i>ci-devant</i> Bodyguard disguised as one. They are - off, quite wrong, over the Pont Royal and River; roaming disconsolate in - the Rue du Bac; far from the Glass-coachman, who still waits. Waits, with - flutter of heart; with thoughts—which he must button close up, - under his jarvie surtout! - </p> - - <p> - Midnight clangs from all the City-steeples; one precious hour has been - spent so; most mortals are asleep. The Glass-coachman waits; and what - mood! A brother jarvie drives up, enters into conversation; is answered - cheerfully in jarvie dialect: the brothers of the whip exchange a pinch - of snuff;<a href="#linknote-375" name="linknoteref-375" - id="linknoteref-375">[375]</a> decline drinking together; and part with - good night. Be the Heavens blest! here at length is the Queen-lady, in - gypsy-hat; safe after perils; who has had to inquire her way. She too is - admitted; her Courier jumps aloft, as the other, who is also a disguised - Bodyguard, has done: and now, O Glass-coachman of a thousand,—Count - Fersen, for the Reader sees it is thou,—drive! - </p> - - <p> - Dust shall not stick to the hoofs of Fersen: crack! crack! the - Glass-coach rattles, and every soul breathes lighter. But is Fersen on - the right road? Northeastward, to the Barrier of Saint-Martin and Metz - Highway, thither were we bound: and lo, he drives right Northward! The - royal Individual, in round hat and peruke, sits astonished; but right or - wrong, there is no remedy. Crack, crack, we go incessant, through the - slumbering City. Seldom, since Paris rose out of mud, or the Longhaired - Kings went in Bullock-carts, was there such a drive. Mortals on each hand - of you, close by, stretched out horizontal, dormant; and we alive and - quaking! Crack, crack, through the Rue de Grammont; across the Boulevard; - up the Rue de la Chaussée d’Antin,—these windows, all silent, of - Number 42, were Mirabeau’s. Towards the Barrier not of Saint-Martin, but - of Clichy on the utmost North! Patience, ye royal Individuals; Fersen - understands what he is about. Passing up the Rue de Clichy, he alights - for one moment at Madame Sullivan’s: ‘Did Count Fersen’s Coachman get the - Baroness de Korff’s new Berline?’—‘Gone with it an hour-and-half - ago,’ grumbles responsive the drowsy Porter.—‘<i>C’est bien</i>.’ - Yes, it is well;—though had not such hour-and half been - <i>lost</i>, it were still better. Forth therefore, O Fersen, fast, by - the Barrier de Clichy; then Eastward along the Outward Boulevard, what - horses and whipcord can do! - </p> - - <p> - Thus Fersen drives, through the ambrosial night. Sleeping Paris is now - all on the right hand of him; silent except for some snoring hum; and now - he is Eastward as far as the Barrier de Saint-Martin; looking earnestly - for Baroness de Korff’s Berline. This Heaven’s Berline he at length does - descry, drawn up with its six horses, his own German Coachman waiting on - the box. Right, thou good German: now haste, whither thou - knowest!—And as for us of the Glass-coach, haste too, O haste; much - time is already lost! The august Glass-coach fare, six Insides, hastily - packs itself into the new Berline; two Bodyguard Couriers behind. The - Glass-coach itself is turned adrift, its head towards the City; to wander - whither it lists,—and be found next morning tumbled in a ditch. But - Fersen is on the new box, with its brave new hammer-cloths; flourishing - his whip; he bolts forward towards Bondy. There a third and final - Bodyguard Courier of ours ought surely to be, with post-horses - ready-ordered. There likewise ought that purchased Chaise, with the two - Waiting-maids and their bandboxes to be; whom also her Majesty could not - travel without. Swift, thou deft Fersen, and may the Heavens turn it - well! - </p> - - <p> - Once more, by Heaven’s blessing, it is all well. Here is the sleeping - Hamlet of Bondy; Chaise with Waiting-women; horses all ready, and - postillions with their churn-boots, impatient in the dewy dawn. Brief - harnessing done, the postillions with their churn-boots vault into the - saddles; brandish circularly their little noisy whips. Fersen, under his - jarvie-surtout, bends in lowly silent reverence of adieu; royal hands - wave speechless in expressible response; Baroness de Korff’s Berline, - with the Royalty of France, bounds off: for ever, as it proved. Deft - Fersen dashes obliquely Northward, through the country, towards Bougret; - gains Bougret, finds his German Coachman and chariot waiting there; - cracks off, and drives undiscovered into unknown space. A deft active - man, we say; what he undertook to do is nimbly and successfully done. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And so the Royalty of France is actually fled? This precious night, the - shortest of the year, it flies and drives! <i>Baroness de Korff</i> is, - at bottom, Dame de Tourzel, Governess of the Royal Children: she who came - hooded with the two hooded little ones; little Dauphin; little Madame - Royale, known long afterwards as Duchess d’Angouleme. Baroness de Korff’s - <i>Waiting-maid</i> is the Queen in gypsy-hat. The royal Individual in - round hat and peruke, he is <i>Valet</i>, for the time being. That other - hooded Dame, styled <i>Travelling-companion</i>, is kind Sister - Elizabeth; she had sworn, long since, when the Insurrection of Women was, - that only death should part her and them. And so they rush there, not too - impetuously, through the Wood of Bondy:—over a Rubicon in their own - and France’s History. - </p> - - <p> - Great; though the future is all vague! If we reach Bouillé? If we do not - reach him? O Louis! and this all round thee is the great slumbering Earth - (and overhead, the great watchful Heaven); the slumbering Wood of - Bondy,—where Longhaired Childeric Donothing was struck through with - iron;<a href="#linknote-376" name="linknoteref-376" - id="linknoteref-376">[376]</a> not unreasonably. These peaked - stone-towers are Raincy; towers of wicked d’Orléans. All slumbers save - the multiplex rustle of our new Berline. Loose-skirted scarecrow of an - Herb-merchant, with his ass and early greens, toilsomely plodding, seems - the only creature we meet. But right ahead the great North-East sends up - evermore his gray brindled dawn: from dewy branch, birds here and there, - with short deep warble, salute the coming Sun. Stars fade out, and - Galaxies; Street-lamps of the City of God. The Universe, O my brothers, - is flinging wide its portals for the Levee of the GREAT HIGH KING. Thou, - poor King Louis, farest nevertheless, as mortals do, towards Orient lands - of Hope; and the Tuileries with <i>its</i> Levees, and France and the - Earth itself, is but a larger kind of doghutch,—occasionally going - rabid. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0079" id="link2HCH0079"></a> - Chapter 2.4.IV.<br/> - Attitude. - </h3> - - <p> - But in Paris, at six in the morning; when some Patriot Deputy, warned by - a billet, awoke Lafayette, and they went to the - Tuileries?—Imagination may paint, but words cannot, the surprise of - Lafayette; or with what bewilderment helpless Gouvion rolled glassy - Argus’s eyes, discerning now that his false Chambermaid told true! - </p> - - <p> - However, it is to be recorded that Paris, thanks to an august National - Assembly, did, on this seeming doomsday, surpass itself. Never, according - to Historian eye-witnesses, was there seen such an “imposing attitude.”<a - href="#linknote-377" name="linknoteref-377" - id="linknoteref-377">[377]</a> Sections all “in permanence;” our - Townhall, too, having first, about ten o’clock, fired three solemn - alarm-cannons: above all, our National Assembly! National Assembly, - likewise permanent, decides what is needful; with unanimous consent, for - the <i>Côté Droit</i> sits dumb, afraid of the Lanterne. Decides with a - calm promptitude, which rises towards the sublime. One must needs vote, - for the thing is self-evident, that his Majesty has been <i>abducted</i>, - or spirited away, “<i>enlevé</i>,” by some person or persons unknown: in - which case, what will the Constitution have us do? Let us return to first - principles, as we always say; ‘<i>revenons aux principes</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - By first or by second principles, much is promptly decided: Ministers are - sent for, instructed how to continue their functions; Lafayette is - examined; and Gouvion, who gives a most helpless account, the best he - can. Letters are found written: one Letter, of immense magnitude; all in - his Majesty’s hand, and evidently of his Majesty’s own composition; - addressed to the National Assembly. It details, with earnestness, with a - childlike simplicity, what woes his Majesty has suffered. Woes great and - small: A Necker seen applauded, a Majesty not; then insurrection; want of - due cash in Civil List; <i>general</i> want of cash, furniture and order; - anarchy everywhere; Deficit never yet, in the smallest, “choked or - <i>comblé:</i>”—wherefore in brief His Majesty has retired towards - a Place of Liberty; and, leaving Sanctions, Federation, and what Oaths - there may be, to shift for themselves, does now refer—to what, - thinks an august Assembly? To that “Declaration of the Twenty-third of - June,” with its ‘<i>Seul il fera</i>, He alone will make his People - happy.’ As if <i>that</i> were not buried, deep enough, under two - irrevocable Twelvemonths, and the wreck and rubbish of a whole Feudal - World! This strange autograph Letter the National Assembly decides on - printing; on transmitting to the Eighty-three Departments, with exegetic - commentary, short but pithy. Commissioners also shall go forth on all - sides; the People be exhorted; the Armies be increased; care taken that - the Commonweal suffer no damage.—And now, with a sublime air of - calmness, nay of indifference, we “pass to the order of the day!” - </p> - - <p> - By such sublime calmness, the terror of the People is calmed. These - gleaming Pike forests, which bristled fateful in the early sun, disappear - again; the far-sounding Street-orators cease, or spout milder. We are to - have a civil war; let us have it then. The King is gone; but National - Assembly, but France and we remain. The People also takes a great - attitude; the People also is calm; motionless as a couchant lion. With - but a few <i>broolings</i>, some waggings of the tail; to shew what it - <i>will</i> do! Cazalès, for instance, was beset by street-groups, and - cries of <i>Lanterne;</i> but National Patrols easily delivered him. - Likewise all King’s effigies and statues, at least stucco ones, get - abolished. Even King’s names; the word Roi fades suddenly out of all - shop-signs; the Royal Bengal Tiger itself, on the Boulevards, becomes the - National Bengal one, <i>Tigre National</i>.<a href="#linknote-378" - name="linknoteref-378" id="linknoteref-378">[378]</a> - </p> - - <p> - How great is a calm couchant People! On the morrow, men will say to one - another: ‘We have no King, yet we slept sound enough.’ On the morrow, - fervent Achille de Chatelet, and Thomas Paine the rebellious Needleman, - shall have the walls of Paris profusely plastered with their Placard; - announcing that there must be a <i>Republic!</i><a href="#linknote-379" - name="linknoteref-379" id="linknoteref-379">[379]</a>—Need we add - that Lafayette too, though at first menaced by Pikes, has taken a great - attitude, or indeed the greatest of all? Scouts and Aides-de-camp fly - forth, vague, in quest and pursuit; young Romœuf towards Valenciennes, - though with small hope. - </p> - - <p> - Thus Paris; sublimely calmed, in its bereavement. But from the - <i>Messageries Royales</i>, in all Mail-bags, radiates forth far-darting - the electric news: Our Hereditary Representative is flown. Laugh, black - Royalists: yet be it in your sleeve only; lest Patriotism notice, and - waxing frantic, lower the Lanterne! In Paris alone is a sublime National - Assembly with its calmness; truly, other places must take it as they can: - with open mouth and eyes; with panic cackling, with wrath, with - conjecture. How each one of those dull leathern Diligences, with its - leathern bag and “The King is fled,” furrows up smooth France as it goes; - through town and hamlet, ruffles the smooth public mind into quivering - agitation of death-terror; then lumbers on, as if nothing had happened! - Along all highways; towards the utmost borders; till all France is - ruffled,—roughened up (metaphorically speaking) into one enormous, - desperate-minded, red-guggling Turkey Cock! - </p> - - <p> - For example, it is under cloud of night that the leathern Monster reaches - Nantes; deep sunk in sleep. The word spoken rouses all Patriot men: - General Dumouriez, enveloped in roquelaures, has to descend from his - bedroom; finds the street covered with “four or five thousand citizens in - their shirts.”<a href="#linknote-380" name="linknoteref-380" - id="linknoteref-380">[380]</a> Here and there a faint farthing rushlight, - hastily kindled; and so many swart-featured haggard faces, with nightcaps - pushed back; and the more or less flowing drapery of night-shirt: - open-mouthed till the General say his word! And overhead, as always, the - Great Bear is turning so quiet round Boötes; steady, indifferent as the - leathern Diligence itself. Take comfort, ye men of Nantes: Boötes and the - steady Bear are turning; ancient Atlantic still sends his brine, - loud-billowing, up your Loire-stream; brandy shall be hot in the stomach: - this is not the Last of the Days, but one before the Last.—The - fools! If they knew what was doing, in these very instants, also by - candle-light, in the far North-East! - </p> - - <p> - Perhaps we may say the most terrified man in Paris or France is—who - thinks the Reader?—seagreen Robespierre. Double paleness, with the - shadow of gibbets and halters, overcasts the seagreen features: it is too - clear to him that there is to be “a Saint-Bartholomew of Patriots,” that - in four-and-twenty hours he will not be in life. These horrid - anticipations of the soul he is heard uttering at Pétion’s; by a notable - witness. By Madame Roland, namely; her whom we saw, last year, radiant at - the Lyons Federation! These four months, the Rolands have been in Paris; - arranging with Assembly Committees the Municipal affairs of Lyons, - affairs all sunk in debt;—communing, the while, as was most - natural, with the best Patriots to be found here, with our Brissots, - Pétions, Buzots, Robespierres; who were wont to come to us, says the fair - Hostess, four evenings in the week. They, running about, busier than ever - this day, would fain have comforted the seagreen man: spake of Achille du - Chatelet’s Placard; of a Journal to be called <i>The Republican;</i> of - preparing men’s minds for a Republic. ‘A Republic?’ said the Seagreen, - with one of his dry husky <i>un</i>sportful laughs, ‘What is that?’<a - href="#linknote-381" name="linknoteref-381" - id="linknoteref-381">[381]</a> O seagreen Incorruptible, thou shalt see! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0080" id="link2HCH0080"></a> - Chapter 2.4.V.<br/> - The New Berline. - </h3> - - <p> - But scouts all this while and aide-de-camps, have flown forth faster than - the leathern Diligences. Young Romœuf, as we said, was off early towards - Valenciennes: distracted Villagers seize him, as a traitor with a finger - of his own in the plot; drag him back to the Townhall; to the National - Assembly, which speedily grants a new passport. Nay now, that same - scarecrow of an Herb-merchant with his ass has bethought him of the grand - new Berline seen in the Wood of Bondy; and delivered evidence of it:<a - href="#linknote-382" name="linknoteref-382" - id="linknoteref-382">[382]</a> Romœuf, furnished with new passport, is - sent forth with double speed on a hopefuller track; by Bondy, Claye, and - Châlons, towards Metz, to track the new Berline; and gallops <i>à franc - étrier</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Miserable new Berline! Why could not Royalty go in some old Berline - similar to that of other men? Flying for life, one does not stickle about - his vehicle. Monsieur, in a commonplace travelling-carriage is off - Northwards; Madame, his Princess, in another, with variation of route: - they cross one another while changing horses, without look of - recognition; and reach Flanders, no man questioning them. Precisely in - the same manner, beautiful Princess de Lamballe set off, about the same - hour; and will reach England safe:—would she had continued there! - The beautiful, the good, but the unfortunate; reserved for a frightful - end! - </p> - - <p> - All runs along, unmolested, speedy, except only the new Berline. Huge - leathern vehicle;—huge Argosy, let us say, or Acapulco-ship; with - its heavy stern-boat of Chaise-and-pair; with its three yellow - Pilot-boats of mounted Bodyguard Couriers, rocking aimless round it and - ahead of it, to bewilder, not to guide! It lumbers along, lurchingly with - stress, at a snail’s pace; noted of all the world. The Bodyguard - Couriers, in their yellow liveries, go prancing and clattering; loyal but - stupid; unacquainted with all things. Stoppages occur; and breakages to - be repaired at Etoges. King Louis too will dismount, will walk up hills, - and enjoy the blessed sunshine:—with eleven horses and double drink - money, and all furtherances of Nature and Art, it will be found that - Royalty, flying for life, accomplishes Sixty-nine miles in Twenty-two - incessant hours. Slow Royalty! And yet not a minute of these hours but is - precious: on minutes hang the destinies of Royalty now. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Readers, therefore, can judge in what humour Duke de Choiseul might stand - waiting, in the Village of Pont-de-Sommevelle, some leagues beyond - Chalons, hour after hour, now when the day bends visibly westward. - Choiseul drove out of Paris, in all privity, ten hours before their - Majesties’ fixed time; his Hussars, led by Engineer Goguelat, are here - duly, come “to escort a Treasure that is expected:” but, hour after hour, - is no Baroness de Korff’s Berline. Indeed, over all that North-east - Region, on the skirts of Champagne and of Lorraine, where the Great Road - runs, the agitation is considerable. For all along, from this - Pont-de-Sommevelle Northeastward as far as Montmédi, at Post-villages and - Towns, escorts of Hussars and Dragoons do lounge waiting: a train or - chain of Military Escorts; at the Montmédi end of it our brave Bouillé: - an electric thunder-chain; which the invisible Bouillé, like a Father - Jove, holds in his hand—for wise purposes! Brave Bouillé has done - what man could; has spread out his electric thunder-chain of Military - Escorts, onwards to the threshold of Chalons: it waits but for the new - Korff Berline; to receive it, escort it, and, if need be, bear it off in - whirlwind of military fire. They lie and lounge there, we say, these - fierce Troopers; from Montmédi and Stenai, through Clermont, - Sainte-Menehould to utmost Pont-de-Sommevelle, in all Post-villages; for - the route shall avoid Verdun and great Towns: they loiter impatient “till - the Treasure arrive.” - </p> - - <p> - Judge what a day this is for brave Bouillé: perhaps the first day of a - new glorious life; surely the last day of the old! Also, and indeed still - more, what a day, beautiful and terrible, for your young full-blooded - Captains: your Dandoins, Comte de Damas, Duke de Choiseul, Engineer - Goguelat, and the like; entrusted with the secret!—Alas, the day - bends ever more westward; and no Korff Berline comes to sight. It is four - hours beyond the time, and still no Berline. In all Village-streets, - Royalist Captains go lounging, looking often Paris-ward; with face of - unconcern, with heart full of black care: rigorous Quartermasters can - hardly keep the private dragoons from <i>cafés</i> and dramshops.<a - href="#linknote-383" name="linknoteref-383" - id="linknoteref-383">[383]</a> Dawn on our bewilderment, thou new - Berline; dawn on us, thou Sun-chariot of a new Berline, with the - destinies of France! - </p> - - <p> - It was of His Majesty’s ordering, this military array of Escorts: a thing - solacing the Royal imagination with a look of security and rescue; yet, - in reality, creating only alarm, and where there was otherwise no danger, - danger without end. For each Patriot, in these Post-villages, asks - naturally: This clatter of cavalry, and marching and lounging of troops, - what means it? To escort a Treasure? Why escort, when no Patriot will - steal from the Nation; or where is your Treasure?—There has been - such marching and counter-marching: for it is another fatality, that - certain of these Military Escorts came out so early as yesterday; the - Nineteenth not the Twentieth of the month being the day <i>first</i> - appointed, which her Majesty, for some necessity or other, saw good to - alter. And now consider the suspicious nature of Patriotism; suspicious, - above all, of Bouillé the Aristocrat; and how the sour doubting humour - has had leave to accumulate and exacerbate for four-and-twenty hours! - </p> - - <p> - At Pont-de-Sommevelle, these Forty foreign Hussars of Goguelat and Duke - Choiseul are becoming an unspeakable mystery to all men. They lounged - long enough, already, at Sainte-Menehould; lounged and loitered till our - National Volunteers there, all risen into hot wrath of doubt, “demanded - three hundred fusils of their Townhall,” and got them. At which same - moment too, as it chanced, our Captain Dandoins was just coming in, from - Clermont with <i>his</i> troop, at the other end of the Village. A fresh - troop; alarming enough; though happily they are only Dragoons and French! - So that Goguelat with his Hussars had to ride, and even to do it fast; - till here at Pont-de-Sommevelle, where Choiseul lay waiting, he found - resting-place. Resting-place, as on burning marle. For the rumour of him - flies abroad; and men run to and fro in fright and anger: Chalons sends - forth exploratory pickets, coming from Sainte-Menehould, on that. What is - it, ye whiskered Hussars, men of foreign guttural speech; in the name of - Heaven, what is it that brings you? A Treasure?—exploratory pickets - shake their heads. The hungry Peasants, however, know too well what - Treasure it is: Military seizure for rents, feudalities; which no Bailiff - could make us pay! This they know;—and set to jingling their - Parish-bell by way of tocsin; with rapid effect! Choiseul and Goguelat, - if the whole country is not to take fire, must needs, be there Berline, - be there no Berline, saddle and ride. - </p> - - <p> - They mount; and this Parish tocsin happily ceases. They ride slowly - Eastward, towards Sainte-Menehould; still hoping the Sun-Chariot of a - Berline may overtake them. Ah me, no Berline! And near now is that - Sainte-Menehould, which expelled us in the morning, with its “three - hundred National fusils;” which looks, belike, not too lovingly on - Captain Dandoins and his fresh Dragoons, though only French;—which, - in a word, one dare not enter the <i>second</i> time, under pain of - explosion! With rather heavy heart, our Hussar Party strikes off to the - left; through byways, through pathless hills and woods, they, avoiding - Sainte-Menehould and all places which have seen them heretofore, will - make direct for the distant Village of Varennes. It is probable they will - have a rough evening-ride. - </p> - - <p> - This first military post, therefore, in the long thunder-chain, has gone - off with no effect; or with worse, and your chain threatens to entangle - itself!—The Great Road, however, is got hushed again into a kind of - quietude, though one of the wakefullest. Indolent Dragoons cannot, by any - Quartermaster, be kept altogether from the dramshop; where Patriots - drink, and will even treat, eager enough for news. Captains, in a state - near distraction, beat the dusky highway, with a face of indifference; - and no Sun-Chariot appears. Why lingers it? Incredible, that with eleven - horses and such yellow Couriers and furtherances, its rate should be - under the weightiest dray-rate, some three miles an hour! Alas, one knows - not whether it ever even got out of Paris;—and yet also one knows - not whether, this very moment, it is not at the Village-end! One’s heart - flutters on the verge of unutterabilities. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0081" id="link2HCH0081"></a> - Chapter 2.4.VI.<br/> - Old-Dragoon Drouet. - </h3> - - <p> - In this manner, however, has the Day bent downwards. Wearied mortals are - creeping home from their field-labour; the village-artisan eats with - relish his supper of herbs, or has strolled forth to the village-street - for a sweet mouthful of air and human news. Still summer-eventide - everywhere! The great Sun hangs flaming on the utmost North-West; for it - is his longest day this year. The hill-tops rejoicing will ere long be at - their ruddiest, and blush Good-night. The thrush, in green dells, on - long-shadowed leafy spray, pours gushing his glad serenade, to the babble - of brooks grown audibler; silence is stealing over the Earth. Your dusty - Mill of Valmy, as all other mills and drudgeries, may furl its canvass, - and cease swashing and circling. The swenkt grinders in this Treadmill of - an Earth have ground out another Day; and lounge there, as we say, in - village-groups; movable, or ranked on social stone-seats;<a - href="#linknote-384" name="linknoteref-384" - id="linknoteref-384">[384]</a> their children, mischievous imps, sporting - about their feet. Unnotable hum of sweet human gossip rises from this - Village of Sainte-Menehould, as from all other villages. Gossip mostly - sweet, unnotable; for the very Dragoons are French and gallant; nor as - yet has the Paris-and-Verdun Diligence, with its leathern bag, rumbled - in, to terrify the minds of men. - </p> - - <p> - One figure nevertheless we do note at the last door of the Village: that - figure in loose-flowing nightgown, of Jean Baptiste Drouet, Master of the - Post here. An acrid choleric man, rather dangerous-looking; still in the - prime of life, though he has served, in his time as a Condé Dragoon. This - day from an early hour, Drouet got his choler stirred, and has been kept - fretting. Hussar Goguelat in the morning saw good, by way of thrift, to - bargain with his own Innkeeper, not with Drouet regular <i>Maître de - Poste</i>, about some gig-horse for the sending back of his gig; which - thing Drouet perceiving came over in red ire, menacing the Inn-keeper, - and would not be appeased. Wholly an unsatisfactory day. For Drouet is an - acrid Patriot too, was at the Paris Feast of Pikes: and what do these - Bouillé Soldiers mean? Hussars, with their gig, and a vengeance to - it!—have hardly been thrust out, when Dandoins and his fresh - Dragoons arrive from Clermont, and stroll. For what purpose? Choleric - Drouet steps out and steps in, with long-flowing nightgown; looking - abroad, with that sharpness of faculty which stirred choler gives to man. - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, mark Captain Dandoins on the street of that same - Village; sauntering with a face of indifference, a heart eaten of black - care! For no Korff Berline makes its appearance. The great Sun flames - broader towards setting: one’s heart flutters on the verge of dread - unutterabilities. - </p> - - <p> - By Heaven! Here is the yellow Bodyguard Courier; spurring fast, in the - ruddy evening light! Steady, O Dandoins, stand with inscrutable - indifferent face; though the yellow blockhead spurs past the Post-house; - inquires to find it; and stirs the Village, all delighted with his fine - livery.—Lumbering along with its mountains of bandboxes, and Chaise - behind, the Korff Berline rolls in; huge Acapulco-ship with its Cockboat, - having got thus far. The eyes of the Villagers look enlightened, as such - eyes do when a coach-transit, which is an event, occurs for them. - Strolling Dragoons respectfully, so fine are the yellow liveries, bring - hand to helmet; and a lady in gipsy-hat responds with a grace peculiar to - her.<a href="#linknote-385" name="linknoteref-385" - id="linknoteref-385">[385]</a> Dandoins stands with folded arms, and what - look of indifference and disdainful garrison-air a man can, while the - heart is like leaping out of him. Curled disdainful moustachio; careless - glance,—which however surveys the Village-groups, and does not like - them. With his eye he bespeaks the yellow Courier. Be quick, be quick! - Thick-headed Yellow cannot understand the eye; comes up mumbling, to ask - in words: seen of the Village! - </p> - - <p> - Nor is Post-master Drouet unobservant, all this while; but steps out and - steps in, with his long-flowing nightgown, in the level sunlight; prying - into several things. When a man’s faculties, at the right time, are - sharpened by choler, it may lead to much. That Lady in slouched - gypsy-hat, though sitting back in the Carriage, does she not resemble - some one we have seen, some time;—at the Feast of Pikes, or - elsewhere? And this <i>Grosse-Tête</i> in round hat and peruke, which, - looking rearward, pokes itself out from time to time, methinks there are - features in it—? Quick, Sieur Guillaume, Clerk of the - <i>Directoire</i>, bring me a new Assignat! Drouet scans the new - Assignat; compares the Paper-money Picture with the Gross-Head in round - hat there: by Day and Night! you might say the one was an attempted - Engraving of the other. And this march of Troops; this sauntering and - whispering,—I see it! - </p> - - <p> - Drouet Post-master of this Village, hot Patriot, Old Dragoon of Condé, - consider, therefore, what thou wilt do. And fast: for behold the new - Berline, expeditiously yoked, cracks whipcord, and rolls - away!—Drouet dare not, on the spur of the instant, clutch the - bridles in his own two hands; Dandoins, with broadsword, might hew you - off. Our poor Nationals, not one of them here, have three hundred fusils - but then no powder; besides one is not sure, only morally-certain. - Drouet, as an adroit Old-Dragoon of Condé does what is advisablest: - privily bespeaks Clerk Guillaume, Old-Dragoon of Condé he too; privily, - while Clerk Guillaume is saddling two of the fleetest horses, slips over - to the Townhall to whisper a word; then mounts with Clerk Guillaume; and - the two bound eastward in pursuit, to <i>see</i> what can be done. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - They bound eastward, in sharp trot; their moral-certainty permeating the - Village, from the Townhall outwards, in busy whispers. Alas! Captain - Dandoins orders his Dragoons to mount; but they, complaining of long - fast, demand bread-and-cheese first;—before which brief repast can - be eaten, the whole Village is permeated; not whispering now, but - blustering and shrieking! National Volunteers, in hurried muster, shriek - for gunpowder; Dragoons halt between Patriotism and Rule of the Service, - between bread and cheese and fixed bayonets: Dandoins hands secretly his - Pocket-book, with its secret despatches, to the rigorous Quartermaster: - the very Ostlers have stable-forks and flails. The rigorous - Quartermaster, half-saddled, cuts out his way with the sword’s edge, amid - levelled bayonets, amid Patriot vociferations, adjurations, - flail-strokes; and rides frantic;<a href="#linknote-386" - name="linknoteref-386" id="linknoteref-386">[386]</a>—few or even - none following him; the rest, so sweetly constrained consenting to stay - there. - </p> - - <p> - And thus the new Berline rolls; and Drouet and Guillaume gallop after it, - and Dandoins’s Troopers or Trooper gallops after them; and - Sainte-Menehould, with some leagues of the King’s Highway, is in - explosion;—and your Military thunder-chain has gone off in a - self-destructive manner; one may fear with the frightfullest issues! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0082" id="link2HCH0082"></a> - Chapter 2.4.VII.<br/> - The Night of Spurs. - </h3> - - <p> - This comes of mysterious Escorts, and a new Berline with eleven horses: - “he that has a secret should not only hide it, but hide that he has it to - hide.” Your first Military Escort has exploded self-destructive; and all - Military Escorts, and a suspicious Country will now be up, explosive; - comparable <i>not</i> to victorious thunder. Comparable, say rather, to - the first stirring of an Alpine Avalanche; which, once stir it, as here - at Sainte-Menehould, will spread,—all round, and on and on, as far - as Stenai; thundering with wild ruin, till Patriot Villagers, Peasantry, - Military Escorts, new Berline and Royalty are down,—jumbling in the - Abyss! - </p> - - <p> - The thick shades of Night are falling. Postillions crack the whip: the - Royal Berline is through Clermont, where Colonel Comte de Damas got a - word whispered to it; is safe through, towards Varennes; rushing at the - rate of double drink-money: an Unknown “<i>Inconnu</i> on horseback” - shrieks earnestly some hoarse whisper, not audible, into the rushing - Carriage-window, and vanishes, left in the night.<a href="#linknote-387" - name="linknoteref-387" id="linknoteref-387">[387]</a> August Travellers - palpitate; nevertheless overwearied Nature sinks every one of them into a - kind of sleep. Alas, and Drouet and Clerk Guillaume spur; taking - side-roads, for shortness, for safety; scattering abroad that - moral-certainty of theirs; which flies, a bird of the air carrying it! - </p> - - <p> - And your rigorous Quartermaster spurs; awakening hoarse trumpet-tone, as - here at Clermont, calling out Dragoons gone to bed. Brave Colonel de - Damas has them mounted, in part, these Clermont men; young Cornet Remy - dashes off with a few. But the Patriot Magistracy is out here at Clermont - too; National Guards shrieking for ball-cartridges; and the Village - “illuminates itself;”—deft Patriots springing out of bed; alertly, - in shirt or shift, striking a light; sticking up each his farthing - candle, or penurious oil-cruise, till all glitters and glimmers; so deft - are they! A <i>camisado</i>, or shirt-tumult, every where: stormbell set - a-ringing; village-drum beating furious <i>générale</i>, as here at - Clermont, under illumination; distracted Patriots pleading and menacing! - Brave young Colonel de Damas, in that uproar of distracted Patriotism, - speaks some fire-sentences to what Troopers he has: ‘Comrades insulted at - Sainte-Menehould; King and Country calling on the brave;’ then gives the - fire-word, <i>Draw swords</i>. Whereupon, alas, the Troopers only - <i>smite</i> their sword-handles, driving them further home! ‘To me, - whoever is for the King!’ cries Damas in despair; and gallops, he with - some poor loyal Two, of the subaltern sort, into the bosom of the - Night.<a href="#linknote-388" name="linknoteref-388" - id="linknoteref-388">[388]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Night unexampled in the Clermontais; shortest of the year; remarkablest - of the century: Night deserving to be named of Spurs! Cornet Remy, and - those Few he dashed off with, has missed his road; is galloping for hours - towards Verdun; then, for hours, across hedged country, through roused - hamlets, towards Varennes. Unlucky Cornet Remy; unluckier Colonel Damas, - with whom there ride desperate only some loyal Two! More ride not of that - Clermont Escort: of other Escorts, in other Villages, not even Two may - ride; but only all curvet and prance,—impeded by stormbell and your - Village illuminating itself. - </p> - - <p> - And Drouet rides and Clerk Guillaume; and the Country - runs.—Goguelat and Duke Choiseul are plunging through morasses, - over cliffs, over stock and stone, in the shaggy woods of the - Clermontais; by tracks; or trackless, with guides; Hussars tumbling into - pitfalls, and lying “swooned three quarters of an hour,” the rest - refusing to march without them. What an evening-ride from - Pont-de-Sommerville; what a thirty hours, since Choiseul quitted Paris, - with Queen’s-valet Leonard in the chaise by him! Black Care sits behind - the rider. Thus go they plunging; rustle the owlet from his branchy nest; - champ the sweet-scented forest-herb, queen-of-the-meadows <i>spilling</i> - her spikenard; and frighten the ear of Night. But hark! towards twelve - o’clock, as one guesses, for the very stars are gone out: sound of the - tocsin from Varennes? Checking bridle, the Hussar Officer listens: ‘Some - fire undoubtedly!’—yet rides on, with double breathlessness, to - verify. - </p> - - <p> - Yes, gallant friends that do your utmost, it is a certain sort of fire: - difficult to quench.—The Korff Berline, fairly ahead of all this - riding Avalanche, reached the little paltry Village of Varennes about - eleven o’clock; hopeful, in spite of that horse-whispering Unknown. Do - not all towns now lie behind us; Verdun avoided, on our right? Within - wind of Bouillé himself, in a manner; and the darkest of midsummer nights - favouring us! And so we halt on the hill-top at the South end of the - Village; expecting our relay; which young Bouillé, Bouillé’s own son, - with his Escort of Hussars, was to have ready; for in this Village is no - Post. Distracting to think of: neither horse nor Hussar is here! Ah, and - stout horses, a proper relay belonging to Duke Choiseul, do stand at hay, - but in the Upper Village over the Bridge; and we know not of them. - Hussars likewise do wait, but drinking in the taverns. For indeed it is - six hours beyond the time; young Bouillé, silly stripling, thinking the - matter over for this night, has retired to bed. And so our yellow - Couriers, inexperienced, must rove, groping, bungling, through a Village - mostly asleep: Postillions will not, for any money, go on with the tired - horses; not at least without refreshment; not they, let the Valet in - round hat argue as he likes. - </p> - - <p> - Miserable! “For five-and-thirty minutes” by the King’s watch, the Berline - is at a dead stand; Round-hat arguing with Churnboots; tired horses - slobbering their meal-and-water; yellow Couriers groping, - bungling;—young Bouillé asleep, all the while, in the Upper - Village, and Choiseul’s fine team standing there at hay. No help for it; - not with a King’s ransom: the horses deliberately slobber, Round-hat - argues, Bouillé sleeps. And mark now, in the thick night, do not two - Horsemen, with jaded trot, come clank-clanking; and start with - half-pause, if one noticed them, at sight of this dim mass of a Berline, - and its dull slobbering and arguing; then prick off faster, into the - Village? It is Drouet, he and Clerk Guillaume! Still ahead, they two, of - the whole riding hurlyburly; unshot, though some brag of having chased - them. Perilous is Drouet’s errand also; but he is an Old-Dragoon, with - his wits shaken thoroughly awake. - </p> - - <p> - The Village of Varennes lies dark and slumberous; a most unlevel Village, - of inverse saddle-shape, as men write. It sleeps; the rushing of the - River Aire singing lullaby to it. Nevertheless from the Golden Arms, - <i>Bras d’Or</i> Tavern, across that sloping marketplace, there still - comes shine of social light; comes voice of rude drovers, or the like, - who have not yet taken the stirrup-cup; Boniface Le Blanc, in white - apron, serving them: cheerful to behold. To this <i>Bras d’Or</i>, Drouet - enters, alacrity looking through his eyes: he nudges Boniface, in all - privacy, ‘<i>Camarade, es-tu bon Patriote</i>, Art thou a good - Patriot?’—‘<i>Si je suis!</i>’ answers Boniface.—‘In that - case,’ eagerly whispers Drouet—what whisper is needful, heard of - Boniface alone.<a href="#linknote-389" name="linknoteref-389" - id="linknoteref-389">[389]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And now see Boniface Le Blanc bustling, as he never did for the jolliest - toper. See Drouet and Guillaume, dexterous Old-Dragoons, instantly down - blocking the Bridge, with a “furniture waggon they find there,” with - whatever waggons, tumbrils, barrels, barrows their hands can lay hold - of;—till no carriage can pass. Then swiftly, the Bridge once - blocked, see them take station hard by, under Varennes Archway: joined by - Le Blanc, Le Blanc’s Brother, and one or two alert Patriots he has - roused. Some half-dozen in all, with National Muskets, they stand close, - waiting under the Archway, till that same Korff Berline rumble up. - </p> - - <p> - It rumbles up: <i>Alte là!</i> lanterns flash out from under coat-skirts, - bridles chuck in strong fists, two National Muskets level themselves fore - and aft through the two Coach-doors: ‘Mesdames, your - Passports?’—Alas! Alas! Sieur Sausse, Procureur of the Township, - Tallow-chandler also and Grocer is there, with official - grocer-politeness; Drouet with fierce logic and ready wit:—The - respected Travelling Party, be it Baroness de Korff’s, or persons of - still higher consequence, will perhaps please to rest itself in M. - Sausse’s till the dawn strike up! - </p> - - <p> - O Louis; O hapless Marie-Antoinette, fated to pass thy life with such - men! Phlegmatic Louis, art thou but lazy semi-animate phlegm then, to the - centre of thee? King, Captain-General, Sovereign Frank! If thy heart ever - formed, since it began beating under the name of heart, any resolution at - all, be it now then, or never in this world: ‘Violent nocturnal - individuals, and if it were persons of high consequence? And if it were - the King himself? Has the King not the power, which all beggars have, of - travelling unmolested on his own Highway? Yes: it is the King; and - tremble ye to know it! The King has said, in this one small matter; and - in France, or under God’s Throne, is no power that shall gainsay. Not the - King shall ye stop here under this your miserable Archway; but his dead - body only, and answer it to Heaven and Earth. To me, Bodyguards: - Postillions, <i>en avant!</i>’—One fancies in that case the pale - paralysis of these two Le Blanc musketeers; the drooping of Drouet’s - under-jaw; and how Procureur Sausse had melted like tallow in - furnace-heat: Louis faring on; in some few steps awakening Young Bouillé, - awakening relays and hussars: triumphant entry, with cavalcading - high-brandishing Escort, and Escorts, into Montmédi; and the whole course - of French History different! - </p> - - <p> - Alas, it was not <i>in</i> the poor phlegmatic man. Had it been in him, - French History had never come under this Varennes Archway to decide - itself.—He steps out; all step out. Procureur Sausse gives his - grocer-arms to the Queen and Sister Elizabeth; Majesty taking the two - children by the hand. And thus they walk, coolly back, over the - Marketplace, to Procureur Sausse’s; mount into his small upper story; - where straightway his Majesty “demands refreshments.” Demands - refreshments, as is written; gets bread-and-cheese with a bottle of - Burgundy; and remarks, that it is the best Burgundy he ever drank! - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, the Varennes Notables, and all men, official, and - non-official, are hastily drawing on their breeches; getting their - fighting-gear. Mortals half-dressed tumble out barrels, lay felled trees; - scouts dart off to all the four winds,—the tocsin begins clanging, - “the Village illuminates itself.” Very singular: how these little - Villages do manage, so adroit are they, when startled in midnight alarm - of war. Like little adroit municipal rattle-snakes, suddenly awakened: - for their stormbell rattles and rings; their eyes glisten luminous (with - tallow-light), as in rattle-snake ire; and the Village will <i>sting!</i> - Old-Dragoon Drouet is our engineer and generalissimo; valiant as a Ruy - Diaz:—Now or never, ye Patriots, for the Soldiery is coming; - massacre by Austrians, by Aristocrats, wars more than civil, it all - depends on you and the hour!—National Guards rank themselves, - half-buttoned: mortals, we say, still only in breeches, in - under-petticoat, tumble out barrels and lumber, lay felled trees for - barricades: the Village will <i>sting</i>. Rabid Democracy, it would - seem, is <i>not</i> confined to Paris, then? Ah no, whatsoever Courtiers - might talk; too clearly no. This of dying for one’s King is grown into a - dying for one’s self, <i>against</i> the King, if need be. - </p> - - <p> - And so our riding and running Avalanche and Hurlyburly has <i>reached</i> - the Abyss, Korff Berline foremost; and may pour itself thither, and - jumble: endless! For the next six hours, need we ask if there was a - clattering far and wide? Clattering and tocsining and hot tumult, over - all the Clermontais, spreading through the Three Bishopricks: Dragoon and - Hussar Troops galloping on roads and no-roads; National Guards arming and - starting in the dead of night; tocsin after tocsin transmitting the - alarm. In some forty minutes, Goguelat and Choiseul, with their wearied - Hussars, reach Varennes. Ah, it is no fire then; or a fire difficult to - quench! They leap the tree-barricades, in spite of National serjeant; - they enter the village, Choiseul instructing his Troopers how the matter - really is; who respond interjectionally, in their guttural dialect, - ‘<i>Der König; die Königinn!</i>’ and seem stanch. These now, in their - stanch humour, will, for one thing, beset Procureur Sausse’s house. Most - beneficial: had not Drouet stormfully ordered otherwise; and even - bellowed, in his extremity, ‘Cannoneers to your guns!’—two old - honey-combed Field-pieces, empty of all but cobwebs; the rattle whereof, - as the Cannoneers with assured countenance trundled them up, did - nevertheless abate the Hussar ardour, and produce a respectfuller ranking - further back. Jugs of wine, handed over the ranks, for the German throat - too has sensibility, will complete the business. When Engineer Goguelat, - some hour or so afterwards, steps forth, the response to him is—a - hiccuping <i>Vive la Nation!</i> - </p> - - <p> - What boots it? Goguelat, Choiseul, now also Count Damas, and all the - Varennes Officiality are with the King; and the King can give no order, - form no opinion; but sits there, as he has ever done, like clay on - potter’s wheel; perhaps the absurdest of all pitiable and pardonable - clay-figures that now circle under the Moon. He will go on, next morning, - and take the National Guard <i>with</i> him; Sausse permitting! Hapless - Queen: with her two children laid there on the mean bed, old Mother - Sausse kneeling to Heaven, with tears and an audible prayer, to bless - them; imperial Marie-Antoinette near kneeling to Son Sausse and Wife - Sausse, amid candle-boxes and treacle-barrels,—in vain! There are - Three-thousand National Guards got in; before long they will count - Ten-thousand; tocsins spreading like fire on dry heath, or far faster. - </p> - - <p> - Young Bouillé, roused by this Varennes tocsin, has taken horse, - and—fled towards his Father. Thitherward also rides, in an almost - hysterically desperate manner, a certain Sieur Aubriot, Choiseul’s - Orderly; swimming dark rivers, our Bridge being blocked; spurring as if - the Hell-hunt were at his heels.<a href="#linknote-390" - name="linknoteref-390" id="linknoteref-390">[390]</a> Through the village - of Dun, he, galloping still on, scatters the alarm; at Dun, brave Captain - Deslons and <i>his</i> Escort of a Hundred, saddle and ride. Deslons too - gets into Varennes; leaving his Hundred outside, at the tree-barricade; - offers to cut King Louis out, if he will order it: but unfortunately ‘the - work <i>will</i> prove hot;’ whereupon King Louis has ‘no orders to - give.’<a href="#linknote-391" name="linknoteref-391" - id="linknoteref-391">[391]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so the tocsin clangs, and Dragoons gallop; and can do nothing, having - gallopped: National Guards stream in like the gathering of ravens: your - exploding Thunder-chain, falling Avalanche, or what else we liken it to, - does play, with a vengeance,—up now as far as Stenai and Bouillé - himself.<a href="#linknote-392" name="linknoteref-392" - id="linknoteref-392">[392]</a> Brave Bouillé, son of the whirlwind, he - saddles Royal Allemand; speaks fire-words, kindling heart and eyes; - distributes twenty-five gold-louis a company:—Ride, Royal-Allemand, - long-famed: no Tuileries Charge and Necker-Orleans Bust-Procession; a - very King made captive, and world all to win!—Such is the Night - deserving to be named of Spurs. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - At six o’clock two things have happened. Lafayette’s Aide-de-camp, - Romœuf, riding <i>à franc étrier</i>, on that old Herb-merchant’s route, - quickened during the last stages, has got to Varennes; where the Ten - thousand now furiously demand, with fury of panic terror, that Royalty - shall forthwith return Paris-ward, that there be not infinite bloodshed. - Also, on the other side, “English Tom,” Choiseul’s <i>jokei</i>, flying - with that Choiseul relay, has met Bouillé on the heights of Dun; the - adamantine brow flushed with dark thunder; thunderous rattle of Royal - Allemand at his heels. English Tom answers as he can the brief question, - How it is at Varennes?—then asks in turn what he, English Tom, with - M. de Choiseul’s horses, is to do, and whither to ride?—To the - Bottomless Pool! answers a thunder-voice; then again speaking and - spurring, orders Royal Allemand to the gallop; and vanishes, swearing - (<i>en jurant</i>).<a href="#linknote-393" name="linknoteref-393" - id="linknoteref-393">[393]</a> ’Tis the last of our brave Bouillé. Within - sight of Varennes, he having drawn bridle, calls a council of officers; - finds that it is in vain. King Louis has departed, consenting: amid the - clangour of universal stormbell; amid the tramp of Ten thousand armed - men, already arrived; and say, of Sixty thousand flocking thither. Brave - Deslons, even without “orders,” darted at the River Aire with his - Hundred!<a href="#linknote-394" name="linknoteref-394" - id="linknoteref-394">[394]</a> swam one branch of it, could not the - other; and stood there, dripping and panting, with inflated nostril; the - Ten thousand answering him with a shout of mockery, the new Berline - lumbering Paris-ward its weary inevitable way. No help, then in Earth; - nor in an age, not of miracles, in Heaven! - </p> - - <p> - That night, “Marquis de Bouillé and twenty-one more of us rode over the - Frontiers; the Bernardine monks at Orval in Luxemburg gave us supper and - lodging.”<a href="#linknote-395" name="linknoteref-395" - id="linknoteref-395">[395]</a> With little of speech, Bouillé rides; with - thoughts that do not brook speech. Northward, towards uncertainty, and - the Cimmerian Night: towards West-Indian Isles, for with thin Emigrant - delirium the son of the whirlwind cannot act; towards England, towards - premature Stoical death; not towards France any more. Honour to the - Brave; who, be it in this quarrel or in that, <i>is</i> a substance and - articulate-speaking piece of Human Valour, not a fanfaronading hollow - Spectrum and squeaking and gibbering Shadow! One of the few Royalist - Chief-actors this Bouillé, of whom so much can be said. - </p> - - <p> - The brave Bouillé too, then, vanishes from the tissue of our Story. Story - and tissue, faint ineffectual Emblem of that grand Miraculous Tissue, and - Living Tapestry named <i>French Revolution</i>, which did weave itself - then in very fact, “on the loud-sounding “LOOM OF TIME!” The old Brave - drop out from it, with their strivings; and new acrid Drouets, of new - strivings and colour, come in:—as is the manner of that weaving. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0083" id="link2HCH0083"></a> - Chapter 2.4.VIII.<br/> - The Return. - </h3> - - <p> - So then our grand Royalist Plot, of Flight to Metz, has <i>executed</i> - itself. Long hovering in the background, as a dread royal - <i>ultimatum</i>, it has rushed forward in its terrors: verily to some - purpose. How many Royalist Plots and Projects, one after another, - cunningly-devised, that were to explode like powder-mines and - thunderclaps; not one solitary Plot of which has issued otherwise! - Powder-mine of a <i>Séance Royale</i> on the Twenty-third of June 1789, - which exploded as we then said, “through the touchhole;” which next, your - wargod Broglie having reloaded it, brought a Bastille about your ears. - Then came fervent Opera-Repast, with flourishing of sabres, and <i>O - Richard, O my King;</i> which, aided by Hunger, produces Insurrection of - Women, and Pallas Athene in the shape of Demoiselle Théroigne. Valour - profits not; neither has fortune smiled on Fanfaronade. The Bouillé - Armament ends as the Broglie one had done. Man after man spends himself - in this cause, only to work it quicker ruin; it seems a cause doomed, - forsaken of Earth and Heaven. - </p> - - <p> - On the Sixth of October gone a year, King Louis, escorted by Demoiselle - Théroigne and some two hundred thousand, made a Royal Progress and - Entrance into Paris, such as man had never witnessed: we prophesied him - Two more such; and accordingly another of them, after this Flight to - Metz, is now coming to pass. Théroigne will not escort here, neither does - Mirabeau now “sit in one of the accompanying carriages.” Mirabeau lies - dead, in the Pantheon of Great Men. Théroigne lies living, in dark - Austrian Prison; having gone to Liège, professionally, and been seized - there. Bemurmured now by the hoarse-flowing Danube; the light of her - Patriot Supper-Parties gone quite out; so lies Théroigne: she shall speak - with the Kaiser face to face, and return. And France lies how! Fleeting - Time shears down the great and the little; and in two years alters many - things. - </p> - - <p> - But at all events, here, we say, is a second Ignominious Royal - Procession, though much altered; to be witnessed also by its hundreds of - thousands. Patience, ye Paris Patriots; the Royal Berline is returning. - Not till Saturday: for the Royal Berline travels by slow stages; amid - such loud-voiced confluent sea of National Guards, sixty thousand as they - count; amid such tumult of all people. Three National-Assembly - Commissioners, famed Barnave, famed Pétion, generally-respectable - Latour-Maubourg, have gone to meet it; of whom the two former ride in the - Berline itself beside Majesty, day after day. Latour, as a mere - respectability, and man of whom all men speak well, can ride in the rear, - with Dame Tourzel and the <i>Soubrettes</i>. - </p> - - <p> - So on Saturday evening, about seven o’clock, Paris by hundreds of - thousands is again drawn up: not now dancing the tricolor joy-dance of - hope; nor as yet dancing in fury-dance of hate and revenge; but in - silence, with vague look of conjecture and curiosity mostly scientific. A - Sainte-Antoine Placard has given notice this morning that “whosoever - insults Louis shall be caned, whosoever applauds him shall be hanged.” - Behold then, at last, that wonderful New Berline; encircled by blue - National sea with fixed bayonets, which flows slowly, floating it on, - through the silent assembled hundreds of thousands. Three yellow Couriers - sit atop bound with ropes; Pétion, Barnave, their Majesties, with Sister - Elizabeth, and the Children of France, are within. - </p> - - <p> - Smile of embarrassment, or cloud of dull sourness, is on the broad - phlegmatic face of his Majesty: who keeps declaring to the successive - Official-persons, what is evident, ‘<i>Eh bien, me voilà</i>, Well, here - you have me;’ and what is not evident, ‘I do assure you I did not mean to - pass the frontiers;’ and so forth: speeches natural for that poor Royal - man; which Decency would veil. Silent is her Majesty, with a look of - grief and scorn; natural for that Royal Woman. Thus lumbers and creeps - the ignominious Royal Procession, through many streets, amid a - silent-gazing people: comparable, Mercier thinks,<a href="#linknote-396" - name="linknoteref-396" id="linknoteref-396">[396]</a> to some - <i>Procession de Roi de Bazoche;</i> or say, Procession of King Crispin, - with his Dukes of Sutor-mania and royal blazonry of Cordwainery. Except - indeed that this is not comic; ah no, it is comico-tragic; with bound - Couriers, and a Doom hanging over it; most fantastic, yet most miserably - real. Miserablest <i>flebile ludibrium</i> of a Pickleherring Tragedy! It - sweeps along there, in most ungorgeous pall, through many streets, in the - dusty summer evening; gets itself at length wriggled out of sight; - vanishing in the Tuileries Palace—towards its doom, of slow - torture, <i>peine forte et dure</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Populace, it is true, seizes the three rope-bound yellow Couriers; will - at least massacre <i>them</i>. But our august Assembly, which is sitting - at this great moment, sends out Deputation of rescue; and the whole is - got huddled up. Barnave, “all dusty,” is already there, in the National - Hall; making brief discreet address and report. As indeed, through the - whole journey, this Barnave has been most discreet, sympathetic; and has - gained the Queen’s trust, whose noble instinct teaches her always who is - to be trusted. Very different from heavy Pétion; who, if Campan speak - truth, ate his luncheon, comfortably filled his wine-glass, in the Royal - Berline; flung out his chicken-bones past the nose of Royalty itself; - and, on the King’s saying ‘France cannot be a Republic,’ answered ‘No, it - is not ripe yet.’ Barnave is henceforth a Queen’s adviser, if advice - could profit: and her Majesty astonishes Dame Campan by signifying almost - a regard for Barnave: and that, in a day of retribution and Royal - triumph, Barnave shall <i>not</i> be executed.<a href="#linknote-397" - name="linknoteref-397" id="linknoteref-397">[397]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - On Monday night Royalty went; on Saturday evening it returns: so much, - within one short week, has Royalty accomplished for itself. The - Pickleherring Tragedy has vanished in the Tuileries Palace, towards “pain - strong and hard.” Watched, fettered, and humbled, as Royalty never was. - Watched even in its sleeping-apartments and inmost recesses: for it has - to sleep with door set ajar, blue National Argus watching, his eye fixed - on the Queen’s curtains; nay, on one occasion, as the Queen cannot sleep, - he offers to sit by her pillow, and converse a little!<a - href="#linknote-398" name="linknoteref-398" - id="linknoteref-398">[398]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0084" id="link2HCH0084"></a> - Chapter 2.4.IX.<br/> - Sharp Shot. - </h3> - - <p> - In regard to all which, this most pressing question arises: What is to be - done with it? ‘Depose it!’ resolutely answer Robespierre and the - thoroughgoing few. For truly, with a King who runs away, and needs to be - watched in his very bedroom that he may stay and govern you, what other - reasonable thing can be done? Had Philippe d’Orléans not been a <i>caput - mortuum!</i> But of him, known as one defunct, no man now dreams. ‘Depose - it not; say that it is inviolable, that it was spirited away, was - <i>enlevé;</i> at any cost of sophistry and solecism, reestablish it!’ so - answer with loud vehemence all manner of Constitutional Royalists; as all - your Pure Royalists do naturally likewise, with low vehemence, and rage - compressed by fear, still more passionately answer. Nay Barnave and the - two Lameths, and what will follow them, do likewise answer so. Answer, - with their whole might: terror-struck at the unknown Abysses on the verge - of which, driven thither by themselves mainly, all now reels, ready to - plunge. - </p> - - <p> - By mighty effort and combination this latter course, of reestablish it, - is the course fixed on; and it shall by the strong arm, if not by the - clearest logic, be made good. With the sacrifice of all their hard-earned - popularity, this notable Triumvirate, says Toulongeon, “set the Throne up - again, which they had so toiled to overturn: as one might set up an - overturned pyramid, on its vertex; to stand so long as it is - <i>held</i>.” - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy France; unhappy in King, Queen, and Constitution; one knows not - in which unhappiest! Was the meaning of our so glorious French Revolution - this, and no other, That when Shams and Delusions, long soul-killing, had - become body-killing, and got the length of Bankruptcy and Inanition, a - great People rose and, with one voice, said, in the Name of the Highest: - <i>Shams shall be no more?</i> So many sorrows and bloody horrors, - endured, and to be yet endured through dismal coming centuries, were they - not the heavy price paid and payable for this same: Total Destruction of - Shams from among men? And now, O Barnave Triumvirate! is it in such - <i>double</i>-distilled Delusion, and Sham even of a Sham, that an Effort - of this kind will rest acquiescent? Messieurs of the popular Triumvirate: - Never! But, after all, what can poor popular Triumvirates and fallible - august Senators do? They can, when the Truth is all too-horrible, stick - their heads ostrich-like into what sheltering Fallacy is nearest: and - wait there, <i>à posteriori.</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Readers who saw the Clermontais and Three-Bishopricks gallop, in the - Night of Spurs; Diligences ruffling up all France into one terrific - terrified Cock of India; and the Town of Nantes in its shirt,—may - fancy what an affair to settle this was. Robespierre, on the extreme - Left, with perhaps Pétion and lean old Goupil, for the very Triumvirate - has defalcated, are shrieking hoarse; drowned in Constitutional clamour. - But the debate and arguing of a whole Nation; the bellowings through all - Journals, for and against; the reverberant voice of Danton; the - Hyperion-shafts of Camille; the porcupine-quills of implacable - Marat:—conceive all this. - </p> - - <p> - Constitutionalists in a body, as we often predicted, do now recede from - the Mother Society, and become <i>Feuillans;</i> threatening her with - inanition, the rank and respectability being mostly gone. Petition after - Petition, forwarded by Post, or borne in Deputation, comes praying for - Judgment and <i>Déchéance</i>, which is our name for Deposition; praying, - at lowest, for Reference to the Eighty-three Departments of France. Hot - Marseillese Deputation comes declaring, among other things: ‘Our Phocean - Ancestors flung a Bar of Iron into the Bay at their first landing; this - Bar will float again on the Mediterranean brine before we consent to be - slaves.’ All this for four weeks or more, while the matter still hangs - doubtful; Emigration streaming with double violence over the frontiers;<a - href="#linknote-399" name="linknoteref-399" - id="linknoteref-399">[399]</a> France seething in fierce agitation of - this question and prize-question: What is to be done with the fugitive - Hereditary Representative? - </p> - - <p> - Finally, on Friday the 15th of July 1791, the National Assembly decides; - in what negatory manner we know. Whereupon the Theatres all close, the - <i>Bourne</i>-stones and Portable-chairs begin spouting, Municipal - Placards flaming on the walls, and Proclamations published by sound of - trumpet, “invite to repose;” with small effect. And so, on Sunday the - 17th, there shall be a thing seen, worthy of remembering. Scroll of a - Petition, drawn up by Brissots, Dantons, by Cordeliers, Jacobins; for the - thing was infinitely shaken and manipulated, and many had a hand in it: - such Scroll lies now visible, on the wooden framework of the Fatherland’s - Altar, for signature. Unworking Paris, male and female, is crowding - thither, all day, to sign or to see. Our fair Roland herself the eye of - History can discern there, “in the morning;”<a href="#linknote-400" - name="linknoteref-400" id="linknoteref-400">[400]</a> not without - interest. In few weeks the fair Patriot will quit Paris; yet perhaps only - to return. - </p> - - <p> - But, what with sorrow of baulked Patriotism, what with closed theatres, - and Proclamations still publishing themselves by sound of trumpet, the - fervour of men’s minds, this day, is great. Nay, over and above, there - has fallen out an incident, of the nature of Farce-Tragedy and Riddle; - enough to stimulate all creatures. Early in the day, a Patriot (or some - say, it was a Patriotess, and indeed Truth is undiscoverable), while - standing on the firm deal-board of Fatherland’s Altar, feels suddenly, - with indescribable torpedo-shock of amazement, his bootsole pricked - through from below; he clutches up suddenly this electrified bootsole and - foot; discerns next instant—the point of a gimlet or brad-awl - playing up, through the firm deal-board, and now hastily drawing itself - back! Mystery, perhaps Treason? The wooden frame-work is impetuously - broken up; and behold, verily a mystery; never explicable fully to the - end of the world! Two human individuals, of mean aspect, one of them with - a wooden leg, lie ensconced there, gimlet in hand: they must have come in - overnight; they have a supply of provisions,—no “barrel of - gunpowder” that one can <i>see;</i> they affect to be asleep; look blank - enough, and give the lamest account of themselves. ‘Mere curiosity; they - were boring up to get an eye-hole; to see, perhaps “with lubricity,” - whatsoever, from that <i>new</i> point of vision, could be - seen:’—little that was edifying, one would think! But indeed what - stupidest thing may not human Dulness, Pruriency, Lubricity, Chance and - the Devil, choosing Two out of Half-a-million idle human heads, tempt - them to?<a href="#linknote-401" name="linknoteref-401" - id="linknoteref-401">[401]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Sure enough, the two human individuals with their gimlet are there. - Ill-starred pair of individuals! For the result of it all is that - Patriotism, fretting itself, in this state of nervous excitability, with - hypotheses, suspicions and reports, keeps questioning these two - distracted human individuals, and again questioning them; claps them into - the nearest Guardhouse, clutches them out again; one hypothetic group - snatching them from another: till finally, in such extreme state of - nervous excitability, Patriotism hangs them as spies of Sieur Motier; and - the life and secret is choked out of them forevermore. Forevermore, alas! - Or is a day to be looked for when these two evidently mean individuals, - who are human nevertheless, will become Historical Riddles; and, like him - of the <i>Iron Mask</i> (also a human individual, and evidently nothing - more),—have their Dissertations? To us this only is certain, that - they had a gimlet, provisions and a wooden leg; and have died there on - the Lanterne, as the unluckiest fools might die. - </p> - - <p> - And so the signature goes on, in a still more excited manner. And - Chaumette, for Antiquarians possess the very Paper to this hour,<a - href="#linknote-402" name="linknoteref-402" - id="linknoteref-402">[402]</a>—has signed himself “in a flowing - saucy hand slightly leaned;” and Hébert, detestable <i>Père Duchesne</i>, - as if “an inked spider had dropped on the paper;” Usher Maillard also has - signed, and many Crosses, which cannot write. And Paris, through its - thousand avenues, is welling to the Champ-de-Mars and from it, in the - utmost excitability of humour; central Fatherland’s Altar quite heaped - with signing Patriots and Patriotesses; the Thirty-benches and whole - internal Space crowded with onlookers, with comers and goers; one - regurgitating whirlpool of men and women in their Sunday clothes. All - which a Constitutional Sieur Motier sees; and Bailly, looking into it - with his long visage made still longer. Auguring no good; perhaps - <i>Déchéance</i> and Deposition after all! Stop it, ye Constitutional - Patriots; fire itself is quenchable, yet only quenchable at <i>first.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Stop it, truly: but how stop it? Have not the first Free People of the - Universe a right to petition?—Happily, if also unhappily, here is - one proof of riot: these two human individuals, hanged at the Lanterne. - Proof, O treacherous Sieur Motier? Were they not two human individuals - sent thither by thee to be hanged; to be a pretext for thy bloody - <i>Drapeau Rouge?</i> This question shall many a Patriot, one day, ask; - and answer affirmatively, strong in Preternatural Suspicion. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Enough, towards half past seven in the evening, the mere natural eye can - behold this thing: Sieur Motier, with Municipals in scarf, with blue - National Patrollotism, rank after rank, to the clang of drums; wending - resolutely to the Champ-de-Mars; Mayor Bailly, with elongated visage, - bearing, as in sad duty bound, the <i>Drapeau Rouge.</i> Howl of angry - derision rises in treble and bass from a hundred thousand throats, at the - sight of Martial Law; which nevertheless waving its Red sanguinary Flag, - advances there, from the Gros-Caillou Entrance; advances, drumming and - waving, towards Altar of Fatherland. Amid still wilder howls, with - objurgation, obtestation; with flights of pebbles and mud, <i>saxa et - fæces;</i> with crackle of a pistol-shot;—finally with volley-fire - of Patrollotism; levelled muskets; roll of volley on volley! Precisely - after one year and three days, our sublime Federation Field is wetted, in - this manner, with French blood. - </p> - - <p> - Some “Twelve unfortunately shot,” reports Bailly, counting by units; but - Patriotism counts by tens and even by hundreds. Not to be forgotten, nor - forgiven! Patriotism flies, shrieking, execrating. Camille ceases - Journalising, this day; great Danton with Camille and Fréron have taken - wing, for their life; Marat burrows deep in the Earth, and is silent. - Once more Patrollotism has triumphed: one other time; but it is the last. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - This was the Royal Flight to Varennes. Thus was the Throne overturned - thereby; but thus also was it victoriously set up again—on its - vertex; and will stand while it can be held. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0100" id="link2H_4_0100"></a> - BOOK 2.V.<br/> - PARLIAMENT FIRST - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0085" id="link2HCH0085"></a> - Chapter 2.5.I.<br/> - Grande Acceptation. - </h3> - - <p> - In the last nights of September, when the autumnal equinox is past, and - grey September fades into brown October, why are the Champs Elysées - illuminated; why is Paris dancing, and flinging fire-works? They are - gala-nights, these last of September; Paris may well dance, and the - Universe: the Edifice of the Constitution is completed! Completed; nay - <i>revised</i>, to see that there was nothing insufficient in it; - solemnly proferred to his Majesty; solemnly accepted by him, to the sound - of cannon-salvoes, on the fourteenth of the month. And now by such - illumination, jubilee, dancing and fire-working, do we joyously handsel - the new Social Edifice, and first raise heat and reek there, in the name - of Hope. - </p> - - <p> - The Revision, especially with a throne standing on its vertex, has been a - work of difficulty, of delicacy. In the way of propping and buttressing, - so indispensable now, something could be done; and yet, as is feared, not - enough. A repentant Barnave Triumvirate, our Rabauts, Duports, Thourets, - and indeed all Constitutional Deputies did strain every nerve: but the - Extreme Left was so noisy; the People were so suspicious, clamorous to - have the work ended: and then the loyal Right Side sat feeble petulant - all the while, and as it were, pouting and petting; unable to help, had - they even been willing; the two Hundred and Ninety had solemnly made - scission, before that: and departed, shaking the dust off their feet. To - such transcendency of fret, and desperate hope that worsening of the bad - might the sooner end it and bring back the good, had our unfortunate - loyal Right Side now come!<a href="#linknote-403" name="linknoteref-403" - id="linknoteref-403">[403]</a> - </p> - - <p> - However, one finds that this and the other little prop has been added, - where possibility allowed. Civil-list and Privy-purse were from of old - well cared for. King’s Constitutional Guard, Eighteen hundred loyal men - from the Eighty-three Departments, under a loyal Duke de Brissac; this, - with trustworthy Swiss besides, is of itself something. The old loyal - Bodyguards are indeed dissolved, in name as well as in fact; and gone - mostly towards Coblentz. But now also those Sansculottic violent Gardes - Françaises, or Centre Grenadiers, shall have their mittimus: they do ere - long, in the Journals, not without a hoarse pathos, publish their - Farewell; “wishing all Aristocrats the graves in Paris which to us are - denied.”<a href="#linknote-404" name="linknoteref-404" - id="linknoteref-404">[404]</a> They depart, these first Soldiers of the - Revolution; they hover very dimly in the distance for about another year; - till they can be remodelled, new-named, and sent to fight the Austrians; - and then History beholds them no more. A most notable Corps of men; which - has its place in World-History;—though to us, so is History - written, they remain mere rubrics of men; nameless; a shaggy Grenadier - Mass, crossed with buff-belts. And yet might we not ask: What Argonauts, - what Leonidas’ Spartans had done such a work? Think of their destiny: - since that May morning, some three years ago, when they, unparticipating, - trundled off d’Espréménil to the Calypso Isles; since that July evening, - some two years ago, when they, participating and <i>sacre</i>ing with - knit brows, poured a volley into Besenval’s Prince de Lambesc! History - waves them her mute adieu. - </p> - - <p> - So that the Sovereign Power, these Sansculottic Watchdogs, more like - wolves, being leashed and led away from his Tuileries, breathes freer. - The Sovereign Power is guarded henceforth by a loyal Eighteen - hundred,—whom Contrivance, under various pretexts, may gradually - swell to Six thousand; who will hinder no Journey to Saint-Cloud. The sad - Varennes business has been soldered up; cemented, even in the blood of - the Champ-de-Mars, these two months and more; and indeed ever since, as - formerly, Majesty has had its privileges, its “choice of residence,” - though, for good reasons, the royal mind “prefers continuing in Paris.” - Poor royal mind, poor Paris; that have to go mumming; enveloped in - speciosities, in falsehood which knows itself false; and to enact - mutually your sorrowful farce-tragedy, being bound to it; and on the - whole, to hope always, in spite of hope! - </p> - - <p> - Nay, now that his Majesty has accepted the Constitution, to the sound of - cannon-salvoes, who would not hope? Our good King was misguided but he - meant well. Lafayette has moved for an Amnesty, for universal forgiving - and forgetting of Revolutionary faults; and now surely the glorious - Revolution cleared of its rubbish, is complete! Strange enough, and - touching in several ways, the old cry of <i>Vive le Roi</i> once more - rises round King Louis the Hereditary Representative. Their Majesties - went to the Opera; gave money to the Poor: the Queen herself, now when - the Constitution is accepted, hears voice of cheering. Bygone shall be - bygone; the New Era <i>shall</i> begin! To and fro, amid those - lamp-galaxies of the Elysian Fields, the Royal Carriage slowly wends and - rolls; every where with <i>vivats</i>, from a multitude striving to be - glad. Louis looks out, mainly on the variegated lamps and gay human - groups, with satisfaction enough for the hour. In her Majesty’s face, - “under that kind graceful smile a deep sadness is legible.”<a - href="#linknote-405" name="linknoteref-405" - id="linknoteref-405">[405]</a> Brilliancies, of valour and of wit, stroll - here observant: a Dame de Staël, leaning most probably on the arm of her - Narbonne. She meets Deputies; who have built this Constitution; who - saunter here with vague communings,—not without thoughts whether it - will stand. But as yet melodious fiddlestrings twang and warble every - where, with the rhythm of light fantastic feet; long lamp-galaxies fling - their coloured radiance; and brass-lunged Hawkers elbow and bawl, - ‘<i>Grande Acceptation, Constitution Monarchique:</i>’ it behoves the Son - of Adam to hope. Have not Lafayette, Barnave, and all Constitutionalists - set their shoulders handsomely to the inverted pyramid of a throne? - Feuillans, including almost the whole Constitutional Respectability of - France, perorate nightly from their tribune; correspond through all - Post-offices; denouncing unquiet Jacobinism; trusting well that - <i>its</i> time is nigh done. Much is uncertain, questionable: but if the - Hereditary Representative be wise and lucky, may one not, with a sanguine - Gaelic temper, hope that he will get in motion better or worse; that what - is wanting to him will gradually be gained and added? - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, as we must repeat, in this building of the Constitutional - Fabric, especially in this Revision of it, nothing that one could think - of to give it new strength, especially to steady it, to give it - permanence, and even eternity, has been forgotten. Biennial Parliament, - to be called Legislative, <i>Assemblée Legislative;</i> with Seven - Hundred and Forty-five Members, chosen in a judicious manner by the - “active citizens” alone, and even by electing of electors still more - active: this, with privileges of Parliament shall meet, self-authorized - if need be, and self-dissolved; shall grant money-supplies and talk; - watch over the administration and authorities; discharge for ever the - functions of a Constitutional Great Council, Collective Wisdom, and - National Palaver,—as the Heavens will enable. Our First biennial - Parliament, which indeed has been a-choosing since early in August, is - now as good as chosen. Nay it has mostly got to Paris: it arrived - gradually;—not without pathetic greeting to its venerable Parent, - the now moribund Constituent; and sat there in the Galleries, reverently - listening; ready to begin, the instant the ground were clear. - </p> - - <p> - Then as to changes in the Constitution itself? This, impossible for any - Legislative, or common biennial Parliament, and possible solely for some - resuscitated Constituent or National Convention,—is evidently one - of the most ticklish points. The august moribund Assembly debated it for - four entire days. Some thought a change, or at least reviewal and new - approval, might be admissible in thirty years; some even went lower, down - to twenty, nay to fifteen. The august Assembly had once decided for - thirty years; but it revoked that, on better thoughts; and did not fix - any date of time, but merely some vague outline of a posture of - circumstances, and on the whole left the matter hanging.<a - href="#linknote-406" name="linknoteref-406" - id="linknoteref-406">[406]</a> Doubtless a National Convention can be - assembled even <i>within</i> the thirty years: yet one may hope, not; but - that Legislatives, biennial Parliaments of the common kind, with their - limited faculty, and perhaps quiet successive additions thereto, may - suffice, for generations, or indeed while computed Time runs. - </p> - - <p> - Furthermore, be it noted that no member of this Constituent has been, or - could be, elected to the new Legislative. So noble-minded were these - Law-makers! cry some: and Solon-like would banish themselves. So - splenetic! cry more: each grudging the other, none daring to be outdone - in self-denial by the other. So unwise in either case! answer all - practical men. But consider this other self-denying ordinance, That none - of us can be King’s Minister, or accept the smallest Court Appointment, - for the space of four, or at lowest (and on long debate and Revision), - for the space of two years! So moves the incorruptible seagreen - Robespierre; with cheap magnanimity he; and none dare be outdone by him. - It was such a law, not so superfluous <i>then</i>, that sent Mirabeau to - the Gardens of Saint-Cloud, under cloak of darkness, to that colloquy of - the gods; and thwarted many things. Happily and unhappily there is no - Mirabeau now to thwart. - </p> - - <p> - Welcomer meanwhile, welcome surely to all right hearts, is Lafayette’s - chivalrous Amnesty. Welcome too is that hard-wrung Union of Avignon; - which has cost us, first and last, “thirty sessions of debate,” and so - much else: may it at length prove lucky! Rousseau’s statue is decreed: - virtuous Jean-Jacques, Evangelist of the Contrat Social. Not Drouet of - Varennes; nor worthy Lataille, master of the old world-famous Tennis - Court in Versailles, is forgotten; but each has his honourable mention, - and due reward in money.<a href="#linknote-407" name="linknoteref-407" - id="linknoteref-407">[407]</a> Whereupon, things being all so neatly - winded up, and the Deputations, and Messages, and royal and other - Ceremonials having rustled by; and the King having now affectionately - perorated about peace and tranquilisation, and members having answered - ‘<i>Oui! oui!</i>’ with effusion, even with tears,—President - Thouret, he of the Law Reforms, rises, and, with a strong voice, utters - these memorable last-words: ‘The National Constituent Assembly declares - that it has finished its mission; and that its sittings are all ended.’ - Incorruptible Robespierre, virtuous Pétion are borne home on the - shoulders of the people; with vivats heaven-high. The rest glide quietly - to their respective places of abode. It is the last afternoon of - September, 1791; on the morrow morning the new Legislative will begin. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So, amid glitter of illuminated streets and Champs Elysées, and crackle - of fireworks and glad deray, has the first National Assembly vanished; - <i>dissolving</i>, as they well say, into blank Time; and is no more. - National Assembly is gone, its work remaining; as all Bodies of men go, - and as man himself goes: it had its beginning, and must likewise have its - end. A Phantasm-Reality born of Time, as the rest of us are; flitting - ever backwards now on the tide of Time: to be long remembered of men. - Very strange Assemblages, Sanhedrims, Amphictyonics, Trades Unions, - Ecumenic Councils, Parliaments and Congresses, have met together on this - Planet, and dispersed again; but a stranger Assemblage than this august - Constituent, or with a stranger mission, perhaps never met there. Seen - from the distance, this also will be a miracle. Twelve Hundred human - individuals, with the Gospel of Jean-Jacques Rousseau in their pocket, - congregating in the name of Twenty-five Millions, with full assurance of - faith, to “make the Constitution:” such sight, the acme and main product - of the Eighteenth Century, our World can witness once only. For Time is - rich in wonders, in monstrosities most rich; and is observed never to - repeat himself, or any of his Gospels:—surely least of all, this - Gospel according to Jean-Jacques. Once it was right and indispensable, - since such had become the Belief of men; but once also is enough. - </p> - - <p> - They have made the Constitution, these Twelve Hundred Jean-Jacques - Evangelists; not without result. Near twenty-nine months they sat, with - various fortune; in various capacity;—always, we may say, in that - capacity of carborne Caroccio, and miraculous Standard of the Revolt of - Men, as a Thing high and lifted up; whereon whosoever looked might hope - healing. They have seen much: cannons levelled on them; then suddenly, by - interposition of the Powers, the cannons drawn back; and a war-god - Broglie vanishing, in thunder <i>not</i> his own, amid the dust and - downrushing of a Bastille and Old Feudal France. They have suffered - somewhat: Royal Session, with rain and Oath of the Tennis-Court; Nights - of Pentecost; Insurrections of Women. Also have they not done somewhat? - Made the Constitution, and managed all things the while; passed, in these - twenty-nine months, “twenty-five hundred Decrees,” which on the average - is some three for each day, including Sundays! Brevity, one finds, is - possible, at times: had not Moreau de St. Mery to give three thousand - orders before rising from his seat?—There was valour (or value) in - these men; and a kind of faith,—were it only faith in this, That - cobwebs are not cloth; that a Constitution could be made. Cobwebs and - chimeras ought verily to disappear; for <i>a</i> Reality there is. Let - formulas, soul-killing, and now grown body-killing, insupportable, - begone, in the name of Heaven and Earth!—Time, as we say, brought - forth these Twelve Hundred; Eternity was before them, Eternity behind: - they worked, as we all do, in the confluence of Two Eternities; what work - was given them. Say not that it was nothing they did. Consciously they - did somewhat; unconsciously how much! They had their giants and their - dwarfs, they accomplished their good and their evil; they are gone, and - return no more. Shall they not go with our blessing, in these - circumstances; with our mild farewell? - </p> - - <p> - By post, by diligence, on saddle or sole; they are gone: towards the four - winds! Not a few over the marches, to rank at Coblentz. Thither wended - Maury, among others; but in the end towards Rome,—to be clothed - there in red Cardinal plush; in falsehood as in a garment; pet son (her - <i>last</i>-born?) of the Scarlet Woman. Talleyrand-Perigord, - excommunicated Constitutional Bishop, will make his way to London; to be - Ambassador, spite of the Self-denying Law; brisk young Marquis Chauvelin - acting as Ambassador’s-Cloak. In London too, one finds Pétion the - virtuous; harangued and haranguing, pledging the wine-cup with - Constitutional Reform Clubs, in solemn tavern-dinner. Incorruptible - Robespierre retires for a little to native Arras: seven short weeks of - quiet; the last appointed him in this world. Public Accuser in the Paris - Department, acknowledged highpriest of the Jacobins; the glass of - incorruptible thin Patriotism, for his narrow emphasis is loved of all - the narrow,—this man seems to be rising, somewhither? He sells his - small heritage at Arras; accompanied by a Brother and a Sister, he - returns, scheming out with resolute timidity a small sure destiny for - himself and them, to his old lodging, at the Cabinet-maker’s, in the Rue - St. Honoré:—O resolute-tremulous incorruptible seagreen man, - towards <i>what</i> a destiny! - </p> - - <p> - Lafayette, for his part, will lay down the command. He retires - Cincinnatus-like to his hearth and farm; but soon leaves them again. Our - National Guard, however, shall henceforth have no one Commandant; but all - Colonels shall command in succession, month about. Other Deputies we have - met, or Dame de Staël has met, “sauntering in a thoughtful manner;” - perhaps uncertain what to do. Some, as Barnave, the Lameths, and their - Duport, will continue here in Paris: watching the new biennial - Legislative, Parliament the First; teaching it to walk, if so might be; - and the Court to lead it. - </p> - - <p> - Thus these: sauntering in a thoughtful manner; travelling by post or - diligence,—whither Fate beckons. Giant Mirabeau slumbers in the - Pantheon of Great Men: and France? and Europe?—The brass-lunged - Hawkers sing ‘Grand Acceptation, Monarchic Constitution’ through these - gay crowds: the Morrow, grandson of Yesterday, must be what it can, as - Today its father is. Our new biennial Legislative begins to constitute - itself on the first of October, 1791. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0086" id="link2HCH0086"></a> - Chapter 2.5.II.<br/> - The Book of the Law. - </h3> - - <p> - If the august Constituent Assembly itself, fixing the regards of the - Universe, could, at the present distance of time and place, gain - comparatively small attention from us, how much less can this poor - Legislative! It has its Right Side and its Left; the less Patriotic and - the more, for Aristocrats exist not here or now: it spouts and speaks: - listens to Reports, reads Bills and Laws; works in its vocation, for a - season: but the history of France, one finds, is seldom or never there. - Unhappy Legislative, what can History do with it; if not drop a tear over - it, almost in silence? First of the two-year Parliaments of France, - which, if Paper Constitution and oft-repeated National Oath could avail - aught, were to follow in softly-strong indissoluble sequence while Time - ran,—it had to vanish dolefully within one year; and there came no - second like it. Alas! your biennial Parliaments in endless indissoluble - sequence; they, and all that Constitutional Fabric, built with such - explosive Federation Oaths, and its top-stone brought out with dancing - and variegated radiance, went to pieces, like frail crockery, in the - crash of things; and already, in eleven short months, were in that Limbo - near the Moon, with the ghosts of other Chimeras. There, except for rare - specific purposes, let them rest, in melancholy peace. - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, how unknown is a man to himself; or a public Body of men to - itself! Æsop’s fly sat on the chariot-wheel, exclaiming, What a dust I do - raise! Great Governors, clad in purple with fasces and insignia, are - governed by their valets, by the pouting of their women and children; or, - in Constitutional countries, by the paragraphs of their Able Editors. Say - not, I am this or that; I am doing this or that! For thou knowest - <i>it</i> not, thou knowest only the name it as yet goes by. A purple - Nebuchadnezzar rejoices to feel himself now verily Emperor of this great - Babylon which he has builded; and <i>is</i> a nondescript - biped-quadruped, on the eve of a seven-years course of grazing! These - Seven Hundred and Forty-five elected individuals doubt not but they are - the First biennial Parliament, come to govern France by parliamentary - eloquence: and they <i>are</i> what? And they have come to do what? - Things foolish and not wise! - </p> - - <p> - It is much lamented by many that this First Biennial had no members of - the old Constituent in it, with their experience of parties and - parliamentary tactics; that such was their foolish Self-denying Law. Most - surely, old members of the Constituent had been welcome to us here. But, - on the other hand, what old or what new members of any Constituent under - the Sun could have effectually profited? There are First biennial - Parliaments so postured as to be, in a sense, <i>beyond</i> wisdom; where - wisdom and folly differ only in degree, and wreckage and dissolution are - the appointed issue for both. - </p> - - <p> - Old-Constituents, your Barnaves, Lameths and the like, for whom a special - Gallery has been set apart, where they may sit in honour and listen, are - in the habit of sneering at these new Legislators;<a href="#linknote-408" - name="linknoteref-408" id="linknoteref-408">[408]</a> but let not us! The - poor Seven Hundred and Forty-five, sent together by the active citizens - of France, are what they could be; do what is fated them. That they are - of Patriot temper we can well understand. Aristocrat Noblesse had fled - over the marches, or sat brooding silent in their unburnt Châteaus; small - prospect had they in Primary Electoral Assemblies. What with Flights to - Varennes, what with Days of Poniards, with plot after plot, the People - are left to themselves; the People must needs choose Defenders of the - People, such as can be had. Choosing, as <i>they</i> also will ever do, - “if not the ablest man, yet the man ablest to be chosen!” Fervour of - character, decided Patriot-Constitutional feeling; these are qualities: - but free utterance, mastership in tongue-fence; this is the quality of - qualities. Accordingly one finds, with little astonishment, in this First - Biennial, that as many as Four hundred Members are of the Advocate or - Attorney species. Men who can speak, if there be aught to speak: nay here - are men also who can think, and even act. Candour will say of this - ill-fated First French Parliament that it wanted not its modicum of - talent, its modicum of honesty; that it, neither in the one respect nor - in the other, sank below the average of Parliaments, but rose above the - average. Let average Parliaments, whom the world does <i>not</i> - guillotine, and cast forth to long infamy, be thankful not to themselves - but to their stars! - </p> - - <p> - France, as we say, has once more done what it could: fervid men have come - together from wide separation; for strange issues. Fiery Max Isnard is - come, from the utmost South-East; fiery Claude Fauchet, Te-Deum Fauchet - Bishop of Calvados, from the utmost North-West. No Mirabeau now sits - here, who had swallowed formulas: our only Mirabeau now is Danton, - working as yet out of doors; whom some call “Mirabeau of the - Sansculottes.” - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless we have our gifts,—especially of speech and logic. An - eloquent Vergniaud we have; most mellifluous yet most impetuous of public - speakers; from the region named Gironde, of the Garonne: a man - unfortunately of indolent habits; who will sit playing with your - children, when he ought to be scheming and perorating. Sharp bustling - Guadet; considerate grave Censonne; kind-sparkling mirthful young Ducos; - Valazé doomed to a sad end: all these likewise are of that Gironde, or - Bourdeaux region: men of fervid Constitutional principles; of quick - talent, irrefragable logic, clear respectability; who will have the Reign - of Liberty establish itself, but only by respectable methods. Round whom - others of like temper will gather; known by and by as <i>Girondins</i>, - to the sorrowing wonder of the world. Of which sort note Condorcet, - Marquis and Philosopher; who has worked at much, at Paris Municipal - Constitution, Differential Calculus, Newspaper <i>Chronique de Paris</i>, - Biography, Philosophy; and now sits here as two-years Senator: a notable - Condorcet, with stoical Roman face, and fiery heart; “volcano hid under - snow;” styled likewise, in irreverent language, “<i>mouton enragé</i>,” - peaceablest of creatures bitten rabid! Or note, lastly, Jean-Pierre - Brissot; whom Destiny, long working noisily with him, has hurled hither, - say, to have done with him. A biennial Senator he too; nay, for the - present, the king of such. Restless, scheming, scribbling Brissot; who - took to himself the style <i>de Warville</i>, heralds know not in the - least why;—unless it were that the father of him did, in an - unexceptionable manner, perform Cookery and Vintnery in the Village of - <i>Ouar</i>ville? A man of the windmill species, that grinds always, - turning towards all winds; not in the steadiest manner. - </p> - - <p> - In all these men there is talent, faculty to work; and they will do it: - working and shaping, not <i>without</i> effect, though alas not in - marble, only in quicksand!—But the highest faculty of them all - remains yet to be mentioned; or indeed has yet to unfold itself for - mention: Captain Hippolyte Carnot, sent hither from the Pas de Calais; - with his cold mathematical head, and silent stubbornness of will: iron - Carnot, far-planning, imperturbable, unconquerable; who, in the hour of - need, shall not be found wanting. His hair is yet black; and it shall - grow grey, under many kinds of fortune, bright and troublous; and with - iron aspect this man shall face them all. - </p> - - <p> - Nor is <i>Côté Droit</i>, and band of King’s friends, wanting: Vaublanc, - Dumas, Jaucourt the honoured Chevalier; who love Liberty, yet with - Monarchy over it; and speak fearlessly according to that - faith;—whom the thick-coming hurricanes will sweep away. With them, - let a new military Theodore Lameth be named;—were it only for his - two Brothers’ sake, who look down on him, approvingly there, from the - Old-Constituents’ Gallery. Frothy professing Pastorets, honey-mouthed - conciliatory Lamourettes, and speechless nameless individuals sit - plentiful, as Moderates, in the middle. Still less is a <i>Côté - Gauche</i> wanting: extreme Left; sitting on the topmost benches, as if - aloft on its speculatory Height or <i>Mountain</i>, which will become a - practical fulminatory Height, and make the name of Mountain - famous-infamous to all times and lands. - </p> - - <p> - Honour waits not on this Mountain; nor as yet even loud dishonour. Gifts - it boasts not, nor graces, of speaking or of thinking; solely this one - gift of assured faith, of audacity that will defy the Earth and the - Heavens. Foremost here are the Cordelier Trio: hot Merlin from - Thionville, hot Bazire, Attorneys both; Chabot, disfrocked Capuchin, - skilful in agio. Lawyer Lacroix, who wore once as subaltern the single - epaulette, has loud lungs and a hungry heart. There too is Couthon, - little dreaming <i>what</i> he is;—whom a sad chance has paralysed - in the lower extremities. For, it seems, he sat once a whole night, not - warm in his true love’s bower (who indeed was by law another’s), but - sunken to the middle in a cold peat-bog, being hunted out; quaking for - his life, in the cold quaking morass;<a href="#linknote-409" - name="linknoteref-409" id="linknoteref-409">[409]</a> and goes now on - crutches to the end. Cambon likewise, in whom slumbers undeveloped such a - finance-talent for printing of Assignats; Father of Paper-money; who, in - the hour of menace, shall utter this stern sentence, “War to the - Manorhouse, peace to the Hut, <i>Guerre aux Châteaux, paix aux - Chaumières!</i>”<a href="#linknote-410" name="linknoteref-410" - id="linknoteref-410">[410]</a> Lecointre, the intrepid Draper of - Versailles, is welcome here; known since the Opera-Repast and - Insurrection of Women. Thuriot too; Elector Thuriot, who stood in the - embrasures of the Bastille, and saw Saint-Antoine rising in mass; who has - many other things to see. Last and grimmest of all note old Ruhl, with - his brown dusky face and long white hair; of Alsatian Lutheran breed; a - man whom age and book-learning have not taught; who, haranguing the old - men of Rheims, shall hold up the Sacred <i>Ampulla</i> (Heaven-sent, - wherefrom Clovis and all Kings have been anointed) as a mere worthless - oil-bottle, and dash it to sherds on the pavement there; who, alas, shall - dash much to sherds, and finally his own wild head, by pistol-shot, and - so end it. - </p> - - <p> - Such lava welters redhot in the bowels of this Mountain; unknown to the - world and to itself! A mere commonplace Mountain hitherto; distinguished - from the Plain chiefly by its superior <i>barrenness</i>, its baldness of - look: at the utmost it may, to the most observant, perceptibly - <i>smoke</i>. For as yet all lies so solid, peaceable; and doubts not, as - was said, that it will endure while Time runs. Do not all love Liberty - and the Constitution? All heartily;—and yet with degrees. Some, as - Chevalier Jaucourt and his Right Side, may love Liberty less than - Royalty, were the trial made; others, as Brissot and his Left Side, may - love it more than Royalty. Nay again of these latter some may love - Liberty more than Law itself; others not more. Parties <i>will</i> unfold - themselves; no mortal as yet knows how. Forces work within these men and - without: dissidence grows opposition; ever widening; waxing into - incompatibility and internecine feud: till the strong is abolished by a - stronger; himself in his turn by a strongest! Who can help it? Jaucourt - and his Monarchists, Feuillans, or Moderates; Brissot and his Brissotins, - Jacobins, or Girondins; these, with the Cordelier Trio, and all men, must - work what is appointed them, and in the way appointed them. - </p> - - <p> - And to think what fate these poor Seven Hundred and Forty-five are - assembled, most unwittingly, to meet! Let no heart be so hard as not to - pity them. Their soul’s wish was to live and work as the First of the - French Parliaments: and make the Constitution march. Did they not, at - their very instalment, go through the most affecting Constitutional - ceremony, almost with tears? The Twelve Eldest are sent solemnly to fetch - the Constitution itself, the printed book of the Law. Archivist Camus, an - Old-Constituent appointed Archivist, he and the Ancient Twelve, amid - blare of military pomp and clangour, enter, bearing the divine Book: and - President and all Legislative Senators, laying their hand on the same, - successively take the Oath, with cheers and heart-effusion, universal - three-times-three.<a href="#linknote-411" name="linknoteref-411" - id="linknoteref-411">[411]</a> In this manner they begin their Session. - Unhappy mortals! For, that same day, his Majesty having received their - Deputation of welcome, as seemed, rather drily, the Deputation cannot but - feel slighted, cannot but lament such slight: and thereupon our cheering - swearing First Parliament sees itself, on the morrow, obliged to explode - into fierce retaliatory sputter, of anti-royal Enactment as to how they, - for their part, will receive Majesty; and how Majesty shall not be called - Sire any more, except they please: and then, on the following day, to - recall this Enactment of theirs, as too hasty, and a mere sputter though - not unprovoked. - </p> - - <p> - An effervescent well-intentioned set of Senators; too combustible, where - continual sparks are flying! Their History is a series of sputters and - quarrels; true desire to do their function, fatal impossibility to do it. - Denunciations, reprimandings of King’s Ministers, of traitors supposed - and real; hot rage and fulmination against fulminating Emigrants; terror - of Austrian Kaiser, of “Austrian Committee” in the Tuileries itself: rage - and haunting terror, haste and dim desperate bewilderment!—Haste, - we say; and yet the Constitution had provided against haste. No Bill can - be passed till it have been printed, till it have been thrice read, with - intervals of eight days;—“unless the Assembly shall beforehand - decree that there is urgency.” Which, accordingly, the Assembly, - scrupulous of the Constitution, never omits to do: Considering this, and - also considering that, and then that other, the Assembly decrees always - “<i>qu’il y a urgence;</i>” and thereupon “the Assembly, having decreed - that there is urgence,” is free to decree—what indispensable - distracted thing seems best to it. Two thousand and odd decrees, as men - reckon, within Eleven months!<a href="#linknote-412" - name="linknoteref-412" id="linknoteref-412">[412]</a> The haste of the - Constituent seemed great; but this is treble-quick. For the time itself - is rushing treble-quick; and they have to keep pace with that. Unhappy - Seven Hundred and Forty-five: true-patriotic, but so combustible; being - fired, they must needs fling fire: Senate of touchwood and rockets, in a - world of smoke-storm, with sparks wind-driven continually flying! - </p> - - <p> - Or think, on the other hand, looking forward some months, of that scene - they call <i>Baiser de Lamourette!</i> The dangers of the country are now - grown imminent, immeasurable; National Assembly, hope of France, is - divided against itself. In such extreme circumstances, honey-mouthed Abbé - Lamourette, new Bishop of Lyons, rises, whose name, <i>l’amourette</i>, - signifies the <i>sweetheart</i>, or Delilah doxy,—he rises, and, - with pathetic honied eloquence, calls on all august Senators to forget - mutual griefs and grudges, to swear a new oath, and unite as brothers. - Whereupon they all, with vivats, embrace and swear; Left Side confounding - itself with Right; barren Mountain rushing down to fruitful Plain, - Pastoret into the arms of Condorcet, injured to the breast of injurer, - with tears; and all swearing that whosoever wishes either Feuillant - Two-Chamber Monarchy or Extreme-Jacobin Republic, or any thing but the - Constitution and that only, shall be anathema maranatha.<a - href="#linknote-413" name="linknoteref-413" - id="linknoteref-413">[413]</a> Touching to behold! For, literally on the - morrow morning, they must again quarrel, driven by Fate; and their - sublime reconcilement is called derisively <i>Baiser de L’amourette</i>, - or Delilah Kiss. - </p> - - <p> - Like fated Eteocles-Polynices Brothers, embracing, though in vain; - weeping that they must not love, that they must hate only, and die by - each other’s hands! Or say, like doomed Familiar Spirits; ordered, by Art - Magic under penalties, to do a harder than twist ropes of sand: “to make - the Constitution march.” If the Constitution would but march! Alas, the - Constitution will not stir. It falls on its face; they tremblingly lift - it on end again: march, thou gold Constitution! The Constitution will not - march.—‘He shall march, by—!’ said kind Uncle Toby, and even - swore. The Corporal answered mournfully: ‘He will never march in this - world.’ - </p> - - <p> - A constitution, as we often say, will march when it images, if not the - old Habits and Beliefs of the Constituted; then accurately their Rights, - or better indeed, their Mights;—for these two, well-understood, are - they not one and the same? The old Habits of France are gone: her new - Rights and Mights are not yet ascertained, except in Paper-theorem; nor - can be, in any sort, till she have <i>tried</i>. Till she have measured - herself, in fell death-grip, and were it in utmost preternatural spasm of - madness, with Principalities and Powers, with the upper and the under, - internal and external; with the Earth and Tophet and the very Heaven! - Then will she know.—Three things bode ill for the marching of this - French Constitution: the French People; the French King; thirdly the - French Noblesse and an assembled European World. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0087" id="link2HCH0087"></a> - Chapter 2.5.III.<br/> - Avignon. - </h3> - - <p> - But quitting generalities, what strange Fact is this, in the far - South-West, towards which the eyes of all men do now, in the end of - October, bend themselves? A tragical combustion, long smoking and - smouldering unluminous, has now burst into flame there. - </p> - - <p> - Hot is that Southern Provençal blood: alas, collisions, as was once said, - must occur in a career of Freedom; different directions will produce - such; nay different <i>velocities</i> in the same direction will! To much - that went on there History, busied elsewhere, would not specially give - heed: to troubles of Uzez, troubles of Nismes, Protestant and Catholic, - Patriot and Aristocrat; to troubles of Marseilles, Montpelier, Arles; to - Aristocrat Camp of Jalès, that wondrous real-imaginary Entity, now fading - pale-dim, then always again glowing forth deep-hued (in the Imagination - mainly);—ominous magical, “an Aristocrat <i>picture</i> of war done - naturally!” All this was a tragical deadly combustion, with plot and - riot, tumult by night and by day; but a <i>dark</i> combustion, not - luminous, not noticed; which now, however, one cannot help noticing. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Above all places, the unluminous combustion in Avignon and the Comtat - Venaissin was fierce. Papal Avignon, with its Castle rising sheer over - the Rhone-stream; beautifullest Town, with its purple vines and - gold-orange groves: why must foolish old rhyming Réné, the last Sovereign - of Provence, bequeath it to the Pope and Gold Tiara, not rather to Louis - Eleventh with the Leaden Virgin in his hatband? For good and for evil! - Popes, Anti-popes, with their pomp, have dwelt in that Castle of Avignon - rising sheer over the Rhone-stream: there Laura de Sade went to hear - mass; her Petrarch twanging and singing by the Fountain of Vaucluse hard - by, surely in a most melancholy manner. This was in the old days. - </p> - - <p> - And now in these new days, such issues do come from a squirt of the pen - by some foolish rhyming Réné, after centuries, this is what we have: - Jourdan <i>Coupe-tête</i>, leading to siege and warfare an Army, from - three to fifteen thousand strong, called the Brigands of Avignon; which - title they themselves accept, with the addition of an epithet, “The - <i>brave</i> Brigands of Avignon!” It is even so. Jourdan the Headsman - fled hither from that Chatelet Inquest, from that Insurrection of Women; - and began dealing in madder; but the scene was rife in other than - dye-stuffs; so Jourdan shut his madder shop, and has risen, for he was - the man to do it. The tile-beard of Jourdan is shaven off; his fat visage - has got coppered and studded with black carbuncles; the Silenus trunk is - swollen with drink and high living: he wears blue National uniform with - epaulettes, “an enormous sabre, two horse-pistols crossed in his belt, - and other two smaller, sticking from his pockets;” styles himself - General, and is the tyrant of men.<a href="#linknote-414" - name="linknoteref-414" id="linknoteref-414">[414]</a> Consider this one - fact, O Reader; and what sort of facts must have preceded it, must - accompany it! Such things come of old Réné; and of the question which has - risen, Whether Avignon cannot now cease wholly to be Papal and become - French and free? - </p> - - <p> - For some twenty-five months the confusion has lasted. Say three months of - arguing; then seven of raging; then finally some fifteen months now of - fighting, and even of hanging. For already in February 1790, the Papal - Aristocrats had set up four gibbets, for a sign; but the People rose in - June, in retributive frenzy; and, forcing the public Hangman to act, - hanged four Aristocrats, on each Papal gibbet a Papal Haman. Then were - Avignon Emigrations, Papal Aristocrats emigrating over the Rhone River; - demission of Papal Consul, flight, victory: re-entrance of Papal Legate, - truce, and new onslaught; and the various turns of war. Petitions there - were to National Assembly; Congresses of Townships; three-score and odd - Townships voting for French Reunion, and the blessings of Liberty; while - some twelve of the smaller, manipulated by Aristocrats, gave vote the - other way: with shrieks and discord! Township against Township, Town - against Town: Carpentras, long jealous of Avignon, is now turned out in - open war with it;—and Jourdan <i>Coupe-tête</i>, your first General - being killed in mutiny, closes his dye-shop; and does there visibly, with - siege-artillery, above all with bluster and tumult, with the “brave - Brigands of Avignon,” beleaguer the rival Town, for two months, in the - face of the world! - </p> - - <p> - Feats were done, doubt it not, far-famed in Parish History; but to - Universal History unknown. Gibbets we see rise, on the one side and on - the other; and wretched carcasses swinging there, a dozen in the row; - wretched Mayor of Vaison buried before dead.<a href="#linknote-415" - name="linknoteref-415" id="linknoteref-415">[415]</a> The fruitful - seedfield, lie unreaped, the vineyards trampled down; there is red - cruelty, madness of universal choler and gall. Havoc and anarchy - everywhere; a combustion most fierce, but <i>un</i>lucent, not to be - noticed here!—Finally, as we saw, on the 14th of September last, - the National Constituent Assembly, having sent Commissioners and heard - them;<a href="#linknote-416" name="linknoteref-416" - id="linknoteref-416">[416]</a> having heard Petitions, held Debates, - month after month ever since August 1789; and on the whole “spent thirty - sittings” on this matter, did solemnly decree that Avignon and the Comtat - were incorporated with France, and His Holiness the Pope should have what - indemnity was reasonable. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And so hereby all is amnestied and finished? Alas, when madness of choler - has gone through the blood of men, and gibbets have swung on this side - and on that, what will a parchment Decree and Lafayette Amnesty do? - Oblivious Lethe flows not <i>above</i> ground! Papal Aristocrats and - Patriot Brigands are still an eye-sorrow to each other; suspected, - suspicious, in what they do and forbear. The august Constituent Assembly - is gone but a fortnight, when, on Sunday the Sixteenth morning of October - 1791, the unquenched combustion suddenly becomes luminous! For - Anti-constitutional Placards are up, and the Statue of the Virgin is said - to have shed tears, and grown red.<a href="#linknote-417" - name="linknoteref-417" id="linknoteref-417">[417]</a> Wherefore, on that - morning, Patriot l’Escuyer, one of our “six leading Patriots,” having - taken counsel with his brethren and General Jourdan, determines on going - to Church, in company with a friend or two: not to hear mass, which he - values little; but to meet all the Papalists there in a body, nay to meet - that same weeping Virgin, for it is the Cordeliers Church; and give them - a word of admonition. Adventurous errand; which has the fatallest issue! - What L’Escuyer’s word of admonition might be no History records; but the - answer to it was a shrieking howl from the Aristocrat Papal worshippers, - many of them women. A thousand-voiced shriek and menace; which as - L’Escuyer did not fly, became a thousand-handed hustle and jostle; a - thousand-footed kick, with tumblings and tramplings, with the pricking of - semstresses stilettos, scissors, and female pointed instruments. Horrible - to behold; the ancient Dead, and Petrarchan Laura, sleeping round it - there;<a href="#linknote-418" name="linknoteref-418" - id="linknoteref-418">[418]</a> high Altar and burning tapers looking down - on it; the Virgin quite tearless, and of the natural - stone-colour!—L’Escuyer’s friend or two rush off, like Job’s - Messengers, for Jourdan and the National Force. But heavy Jourdan will - seize the Town-Gates first; does not run treble-fast, as he might: on - arriving at the Cordeliers Church, the Church is silent, vacant; - L’Escuyer, all alone, lies there, swimming in his blood, at the foot of - the high Altar; pricked with scissors; trodden, massacred;—gives - one dumb sob, and gasps out his miserable life for evermore. - </p> - - <p> - Sight to stir the heart of any man; much more of many men, self-styled - Brigands of Avignon! The corpse of L’Escuyer, stretched on a bier, the - ghastly head girt with laurel, is borne through the streets; with - many-voiced unmelodious <i>Nenia;</i> funeral-wail still deeper than it - is loud! The copper-face of Jourdan, of bereft Patriotism, has grown - black. Patriot Municipality despatches official Narrative and tidings to - Paris; orders numerous or innumerable arrestments for inquest and - perquisition. Aristocrats male and female are haled to the Castle; lie - crowded in subterranean dungeons there, bemoaned by the hoarse rushing of - the Rhone; cut out from help. - </p> - - <p> - So lie they; waiting inquest and perquisition. Alas! with a Jourdan - Headsman for Generalissimo, with his copper-face grown black, and armed - Brigand Patriots chanting their <i>Nenia</i>, the inquest is likely to be - brief. On the next day and the next, let Municipality consent or not, a - Brigand Court-Martial establishes itself in the subterranean stories of - the Castle of Avignon; Brigand Executioners, with naked sabre, waiting at - the door, for a Brigand verdict. Short judgment, no appeal! There is - Brigand wrath and vengeance; not unrefreshed by brandy. Close by is the - Dungeon of the <i>Glacière</i>, or Ice-Tower: there may be deeds - done—? For which language has no name!—Darkness and the - shadow of horrid cruelty envelopes these Castle Dungeons, that - <i>Glacière</i> Tower: clear only that many have entered, that few have - returned. Jourdan and the Brigands, supreme now over Municipals, over all - Authorities Patriot or Papal, reign in Avignon, waited on by Terror and - Silence. - </p> - - <p> - The result of all which is that, on the 15th of November 1791, we behold - Friend Dampmartin, and subalterns beneath him, and General Choisi above - him, with Infantry and Cavalry, and proper cannon-carriages rattling in - front, with spread banners, to the sound of fife and drum, wend, in a - deliberate formidable manner, towards that sheer Castle Rock, towards - those broad Gates of Avignon; three new National-Assembly Commissioners - following at safe distance in the rear.<a href="#linknote-419" - name="linknoteref-419" id="linknoteref-419">[419]</a> Avignon, summoned - in the name of Assembly and Law, flings its Gates wide open; Choisi with - the rest, Dampmartin and the <i>Bons Enfans</i>, “Good Boys of - <i>Baufremont</i>,” so they name these brave Constitutional Dragoons, - known to them of old,—do enter, amid shouts and scattered flowers. - To the joy of all honest persons; to the terror only of Jourdan Headsman - and the Brigands. Nay next we behold carbuncled swollen Jourdan himself - shew copper-face, with sabre and four pistols; affecting to talk high: - engaging, meanwhile, to surrender the Castle that instant. So the Choisi - Grenadiers enter with him there. They start and stop, passing that - <i>Glacière</i>, snuffing its horrible breath; with wild yell, with cries - of ‘Cut the Butcher down!’—and Jourdan has to whisk himself through - secret passages, and instantaneously vanish. - </p> - - <p> - Be the mystery of iniquity laid bare then! A Hundred and Thirty Corpses, - of men, nay of women and even children (for the trembling mother, hastily - seized, could not leave her infant), lie heaped in that <i>Glacière;</i> - putrid, under putridities: the horror of the world. For three days there - is mournful lifting out, and recognition; amid the cries and movements of - a passionate Southern people, now kneeling in prayer, now storming in - wild pity and rage: lastly there is solemn sepulture, with muffled drums, - religious requiem, and all the people’s wail and tears. Their Massacred - rest now in holy ground; buried in one grave. - </p> - - <p> - And Jourdan <i>Coupe-tête?</i> Him also we behold again, after a day or - two: in flight, through the most romantic Petrarchan hill-country; - vehemently spurring his nag; young Ligonnet, a brisk youth of Avignon, - with Choisi Dragoons, close in his rear! With such swollen mass of a - rider no nag can run to advantage. The tired nag, spur-driven, does take - the River Sorgue; but sticks in the middle of it; firm on that <i>chiaro - fondo di Sorga;</i> and will proceed no further for spurring! Young - Ligonnet dashes up; the Copper-face menaces and bellows, draws pistol, - perhaps even snaps it; is nevertheless seized by the collar; is tied - firm, ancles under horse’s belly, and ridden back to Avignon, hardly to - be saved from massacre on the streets there.<a href="#linknote-420" - name="linknoteref-420" id="linknoteref-420">[420]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such is the combustion of Avignon and the South-West, when it becomes - luminous! Long loud debate is in the august Legislative, in the - Mother-Society as to what now shall be done with it. Amnesty, cry - eloquent Vergniaud and all Patriots: let there be mutual pardon and - repentance, restoration, pacification, and if so might any how be, an - end! Which vote ultimately prevails. So the South-West smoulders and - welters again in an “Amnesty,” or Non-remembrance, which alas cannot but - remember, no Lethe flowing above ground! Jourdan himself remains - unchanged; gets loose again as one not yet gallows-ripe; nay, as we - transciently discern from the distance, is “carried in triumph through - the cities of the South.”<a href="#linknote-421" name="linknoteref-421" - id="linknoteref-421">[421]</a> What things men carry! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - With which transient glimpse, of a Copper-faced Portent faring in this - manner through the cities of the South, we must quit these - regions;—and let them smoulder. They want not their Aristocrats; - proud old Nobles, not yet emigrated. Arles has its “<i>Chiffonne</i>,” - so, in symbolical cant, they name that Aristocrat Secret-Association; - Arles has its pavements piled up, by and by, into Aristocrat barricades. - Against which Rebecqui, the hot-clear Patriot, must lead Marseilles with - cannon. The Bar of Iron has not yet risen to the top in the Bay of - Marseilles; neither have these hot Sons of the Phoceans submitted to be - slaves. By clear management and hot instance, Rebecqui dissipates that - <i>Chiffonne</i>, without bloodshed; restores the pavement of Arles. He - sails in Coast-barks, this Rebecqui, scrutinising suspicious - Martello-towers, with the keen eye of Patriotism; marches overland with - despatch, singly, or in force; to City after City; dim scouring far and - wide;<a href="#linknote-422" name="linknoteref-422" - id="linknoteref-422">[422]</a>—argues, and if it must be, fights. - For there is much to do; Jalès itself is looking suspicious. So that - Legislator Fauchet, after debate on it, has to propose Commissioners and - a Camp on the Plain of Beaucaire: with or without result. - </p> - - <p> - Of all which, and much else, let us note only this small consequence, - that young Barbaroux, Advocate, Town-Clerk of Marseilles, being charged - to have these things remedied, arrived at Paris in the month of February - 1792. The beautiful and brave: young Spartan, ripe in energy, not ripe in - wisdom; over whose black doom there shall flit nevertheless a certain - ruddy fervour, streaks of bright Southern tint, not wholly swallowed of - Death! Note also that the Rolands of Lyons are again in Paris; for the - second and final time. King’s Inspectorship is abrogated at Lyons, as - elsewhere: Roland has his retiring-pension to claim, if attainable; has - Patriot friends to commune with; at lowest, has a book to publish. That - young Barbaroux and the Rolands came together; that elderly Spartan - Roland liked, or even loved the young Spartan, and was loved by him, one - can fancy: and Madame—? Breathe not, thou poison-breath, - Evil-speech! That soul is taintless, clear, as the mirror-sea. And yet if - they too did look into each other’s eyes, and each, in silence, in - tragical renunciance, did find that the other was all too lovely? <i>Honi - soit!</i> She calls him “beautiful as Antinous:” he “will speak elsewhere - of that astonishing woman.”—A Madame d’Udon (or some such name, for - Dumont does not recollect quite clearly) gives copious Breakfast to the - Brissotin Deputies and us Friends of Freedom, at her house in the Place - Vendôme; with temporary celebrity, with graces and wreathed smiles; not - without cost. There, amid wide babble and jingle, our plan of Legislative - Debate is settled for the day, and much counselling held. Strict Roland - is seen there, but does not go often.<a href="#linknote-423" - name="linknoteref-423" id="linknoteref-423">[423]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0088" id="link2HCH0088"></a> - Chapter 2.5.IV.<br/> - No Sugar. - </h3> - - <p> - Such are our inward troubles; seen in the Cities of the South; extant, - seen or unseen, in all cities and districts, North as well as South. For - in all are Aristocrats, more or less malignant; watched by Patriotism; - which again, being of various shades, from light Fayettist-Feuillant down - to deep-sombre Jacobin, has to watch <i>itself!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Directories of Departments, what we call County Magistracies, being - chosen by Citizens of a too “active” class, are found to pull one way; - Municipalities, Town Magistracies, to pull the other way. In all places - too are Dissident Priests; whom the Legislative will have to deal with: - contumacious individuals, working on that angriest of passions; plotting, - enlisting for Coblentz; or suspected of plotting: fuel of a universal - unconstitutional heat. What to do with them? They may be conscientious as - well as contumacious: gently they should be dealt with, and yet it must - be speedily. In unilluminated La Vendée the simple are like to be seduced - by them; many a simple peasant, a Cathelineau the wool-dealer wayfaring - meditative with his wool-packs, in these hamlets, dubiously shakes his - head! Two Assembly Commissioners went thither last Autumn; considerate - Gensonné, not yet called to be a Senator; Gallois, an editorial man. - These Two, consulting with General Dumouriez, spake and worked, softly, - with judgment; they have hushed down the irritation, and produced a soft - Report,—for the time. - </p> - - <p> - The General himself doubts not in the least but he can keep peace there; - being an able man. He passes these frosty months among the pleasant - people of Niort, occupies “tolerably handsome apartments in the Castle of - Niort,” and tempers the minds of men.<a href="#linknote-424" - name="linknoteref-424" id="linknoteref-424">[424]</a> Why is there but - one Dumouriez? Elsewhere you find South or North, nothing but untempered - obscure jarring; which breaks forth ever and anon into open clangour of - riot. Southern Perpignan has its tocsin, by torch light; with rushing and - onslaught: Northern Caen not less, by daylight; with Aristocrats ranged - in arms at Places of Worship; Departmental compromise proving impossible; - breaking into musketry and a Plot discovered!<a href="#linknote-425" - name="linknoteref-425" id="linknoteref-425">[425]</a> Add Hunger too: for - Bread, always dear, is getting dearer: not so much as Sugar can be had; - for good reasons. Poor Simoneau, Mayor of Etampes, in this Northern - region, hanging out his Red Flag in some riot of grains, is trampled to - death by a hungry exasperated People. What a trade this of Mayor, in - these times! Mayor of Saint-Denis hung at the Lanterne, by Suspicion and - Dyspepsia, as we saw long since; Mayor of Vaison, as we saw lately, - buried before dead; and now this poor Simoneau, the Tanner, of - Etampes,—whom legal Constitutionalism will not forget. - </p> - - <p> - With factions, suspicions, want of bread and sugar, it is verily what - they call <i>déchiré</i>, torn asunder this poor country: France and all - that is French. For, over seas too come bad news. In black Saint-Domingo, - before that variegated Glitter in the Champs Elysées was lit for an - Accepted Constitution, there had risen, and was burning contemporary with - it, quite another variegated Glitter and nocturnal Fulgor, had we known - it: of molasses and ardent-spirits; of sugar-boileries, plantations, - furniture, cattle and men: skyhigh; the Plain of Cap Français one huge - whirl of smoke and flame! - </p> - - <p> - What a change here, in these two years; since that first “Box of Tricolor - Cockades” got through the Custom-house, and atrabiliar Creoles too - rejoiced that there was a levelling of Bastilles! Levelling is - comfortable, as we often say: levelling, yet only down to oneself. Your - pale-white Creoles, have their grievances:—and your yellow - Quarteroons? And your dark-yellow Mulattoes? And your Slaves soot-black? - Quarteroon Ogé, Friend of our Parisian Brissotin <i>Friends of the - Blacks</i>, felt, for his share too, that Insurrection was the most - sacred of duties. So the tricolor Cockades had fluttered and swashed only - some three months on the Creole hat, when Ogé’s signal-conflagrations - went aloft; with the voice of rage and terror. Repressed, doomed to die, - he took black powder or seedgrains in the hollow of his hand, this Ogé; - sprinkled a film of white ones on the top, and said to his Judges, - ‘Behold they are white;’—then <i>shook</i> his hand, and said - ‘Where are the Whites, <i>Où sont les Blancs?</i>’ - </p> - - <p> - So now, in the Autumn of 1791, looking from the sky-windows of Cap - Français, thick clouds of smoke girdle our horizon, smoke in the day, in - the night fire; preceded by fugitive shrieking white women, by Terror and - Rumour. Black demonised squadrons are massacring and harrying, with - nameless cruelty. They fight and fire “from behind thickets and coverts,” - for the Black man loves the Bush; they rush to the attack, thousands - strong, with brandished cutlasses and fusils, with caperings, shoutings - and vociferation,—which, if the White Volunteer Company stands - firm, dwindle into staggerings, into quick gabblement, into panic flight - at the first volley, perhaps before it.<a href="#linknote-426" - name="linknoteref-426" id="linknoteref-426">[426]</a> Poor Ogé could be - broken on the wheel; this fire-whirlwind too can be abated, driven up - into the Mountains: but Saint-Domingo is <i>shaken</i>, as Ogé’s - seedgrains were; shaking, writhing in long horrid death-throes, it is - Black without remedy; and remains, as African Haiti, a monition to the - world. - </p> - - <p> - O my Parisian Friends, is not <i>this</i>, as well as Regraters and - Feuillant Plotters, one cause of the astonishing dearth of Sugar! The - Grocer, palpitant, with drooping lip, sees his Sugar <i>taxé;</i> weighed - out by Female Patriotism, in instant retail, at the inadequate rate of - twenty-five sous, or thirteen pence a pound. ‘Abstain from it?’ yes, ye - Patriot Sections, all ye Jacobins, abstain! Louvet and Collot-d’Herbois - so advise; resolute to make the sacrifice: though ‘how shall literary men - do without coffee?’ Abstain, with an oath; that is the surest!<a - href="#linknote-427" name="linknoteref-427" - id="linknoteref-427">[427]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Also, for like reason, must not Brest and the Shipping Interest languish? - Poor Brest languishes, sorrowing, not without spleen; denounces an - Aristocrat Bertrand-Moleville traitorous Aristocrat Marine-Minister. Do - not her Ships and King’s Ships lie rotting piecemeal in harbour; Naval - Officers mostly fled, and on furlough too, with pay? Little stirring - there; if it be not the Brest Gallies, whip-driven, with their - Galley-Slaves,—alas, with some Forty of our hapless Swiss Soldiers - of Château-Vieux, among others! These Forty Swiss, too mindful of Nanci, - do now, in their red wool caps, tug sorrowfully at the oar; looking into - the Atlantic brine, which reflects only their own sorrowful shaggy faces; - and seem forgotten of Hope. - </p> - - <p> - But, on the whole, may we not say, in fugitive language, that the French - Constitution which shall march is very <i>rheumatic</i>, full of shooting - internal pains, in joint and muscle; and will not march without - difficulty? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0089" id="link2HCH0089"></a> - Chapter 2.5.V.<br/> - Kings and Emigrants. - </h3> - - <p> - Extremely rheumatic Constitutions have been known to march, and keep on - their feet, though in a staggering sprawling manner, for long periods, in - virtue of one thing only: that the <i>Head</i> were healthy. But this - Head of the French Constitution! What King Louis is and cannot help - being, Readers already know. A King who cannot take the Constitution, nor - reject the Constitution: nor do anything at all, but miserably ask, What - shall I do? A King environed with endless confusions; in whose own mind - is no germ of order. Haughty implacable remnants of Noblesse struggling - with humiliated repentant Barnave-Lameths: struggling in that obscure - element of fetchers and carriers, of Half-pay braggarts from the Café - Valois, of Chambermaids, whisperers, and subaltern officious persons; - fierce Patriotism looking on all the while, more and more suspicious, - from without: what, in such struggle, can they do? At best, <i>cancel</i> - one another, and produce <i>zero</i>. Poor King! Barnave and your - Senatorial Jaucourts speak earnestly into this ear; Bertrand-Moleville, - and Messengers from Coblentz, speak earnestly into that: the poor Royal - head turns to the one side and to the other side; can turn itself fixedly - to no side. Let Decency drop a veil over it: sorrier misery was seldom - enacted in the world. This one small fact, does it not throw the saddest - light on much? The Queen is lamenting to Madam Campan: ‘What am I to do? - When they, these Barnaves, get us advised to any step which the Noblesse - do not like, then I am pouted at; nobody comes to my card table; the - King’s Couchée is solitary.’<a href="#linknote-428" - name="linknoteref-428" id="linknoteref-428">[428]</a> In such a case of - dubiety, what <i>is</i> one to do? Go inevitably to the ground! - </p> - - <p> - The King has accepted this Constitution, knowing beforehand that it will - not serve: he studies it, and executes it in the hope mainly that it will - be found inexecutable. King’s Ships lie rotting in harbour, their - officers gone; the Armies disorganised; robbers scour the highways, which - wear down unrepaired; all Public Service lies slack and waste: the - Executive makes no effort, or an effort only to throw the blame on the - Constitution. Shamming death, “<i>faisant le mort!</i>” What - Constitution, use it in this manner, can march? “Grow to disgust the - Nation” it will truly,<a href="#linknote-429" name="linknoteref-429" - id="linknoteref-429">[429]</a>—unless <i>you</i> first grow to - disgust the Nation! It is Bertrand de Moleville’s plan, and his - Majesty’s; the best they can form. - </p> - - <p> - Or if, after all, this best-plan proved too slow; proved a failure? - Provident of that too, the Queen, shrouded in deepest mystery, “writes - all day, in cipher, day after day, to Coblentz;” Engineer Goguelat, he of - the <i>Night of Spurs</i>, whom the Lafayette Amnesty has delivered from - Prison, rides and runs. Now and then, on fit occasion, a Royal familiar - visit can be paid to that Salle de Manége, an affecting encouraging Royal - Speech (sincere, doubt it not, for the moment) can be delivered there, - and the Senators all cheer and almost weep;—at the same time Mallet - du Pan has visibly ceased editing, and invisibly bears abroad a King’s - Autograph, soliciting help from the Foreign Potentates.<a - href="#linknote-430" name="linknoteref-430" - id="linknoteref-430">[430]</a> Unhappy Louis, <i>do</i> this thing or - else that other,—if thou couldst! - </p> - - <p> - The thing which the King’s Government did do was to stagger distractedly - from contradiction to contradiction; and wedding Fire to Water, envelope - itself in hissing, and ashy steam! Danton and needy corruptible Patriots - are sopped with presents of cash: they accept the sop: they rise - refreshed by it, and travel their own way.<a href="#linknote-431" - name="linknoteref-431" id="linknoteref-431">[431]</a> Nay, the King’s - Government did likewise hire Hand-clappers, or <i>claqueurs</i>, persons - to applaud. Subterranean Rivarol has Fifteen Hundred men in King’s pay, - at the rate of some ten thousand pounds sterling per month; what he calls - “a staff of genius:” Paragraph-writers, Placard-Journalists; “two hundred - and eighty Applauders, at three shillings a day:” one of the strangest - Staffs ever commanded by man. The muster-rolls and account-books of which - still exist.<a href="#linknote-432" name="linknoteref-432" - id="linknoteref-432">[432]</a> Bertrand-Moleville himself, in a way he - thinks very dexterous, contrives to pack the Galleries of the - Legislative; gets Sansculottes hired to go thither, and applaud at a - signal given, they fancying it was Pétion that bid them: a device which - was not detected for almost a week. Dexterous enough; as if a man finding - the Day fast decline should determine on altering the Clockhands: - <i>that</i> is a thing possible for him. - </p> - - <p> - Here too let us note an unexpected apparition of Philippe d’Orléans at - Court: his last at the Levee of any King. D’Orléans, sometime in the - winter months seemingly, has been appointed to that old first-coveted - rank of Admiral,—though only over ships rotting in port. The - wished-for comes too late! However, he waits on Bertrand-Moleville to - give thanks: nay to state that he would willingly thank his Majesty in - person; that, in spite of all the horrible things men have said and sung, - he is far from being his Majesty’s enemy; at bottom, how far! Bertrand - delivers the message, brings about the royal Interview, which does pass - to the satisfaction of his Majesty; d’Orléans seeming clearly repentant, - determined to turn over a new leaf. And yet, next Sunday, what do we see? - “Next Sunday,” says Bertrand, “he came to the King’s Levee; but the - Courtiers ignorant of what had passed, the crowd of Royalists who were - accustomed to resort thither on that day specially to pay their court, - gave him the most humiliating reception. They came pressing round him; - managing, as if by mistake, to tread on his toes, to elbow him towards - the door, and not let him enter again. He went downstairs to her - Majesty’s Apartments, where cover was laid; so soon as he shewed face, - sounds rose on all sides, ‘<i>Messieurs, take care of the dishes</i>,’ as - if he had carried poison in his pockets. The insults which his presence - every where excited forced him to retire without having seen the Royal - Family: the crowd followed him to the Queen’s Staircase; in descending, - he received a spitting (<i>crachat</i>) on the head, and some others, on - his clothes. Rage and spite were seen visibly painted on his face:”<a - href="#linknote-433" name="linknoteref-433" - id="linknoteref-433">[433]</a> as indeed how could they miss to be? He - imputes it all to the King and Queen, who know nothing of it, who are - even much grieved at it; and so descends, to his Chaos again. Bertrand - was there at the Château that day himself, and an eye-witness to these - things. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, Non-jurant Priests, and the repression of them, will - distract the King’s conscience; Emigrant Princes and Noblesse will force - him to double-dealing: there must be <i>veto</i> on <i>veto;</i> amid the - ever-waxing indignation of men. For Patriotism, as we said, looks on from - without, more and more suspicious. Waxing tempest, blast after blast, of - Patriot indignation, from without; dim inorganic whirl of Intrigues, - Fatuities, within! Inorganic, fatuous; from which the eye turns away. De - Staël intrigues for her so gallant Narbonne, to get him made - War-Minister; and ceases not, having got him made. The King shall fly to - Rouen; shall there, with the gallant Narbonne, properly “modify the - Constitution.” This is the same brisk Narbonne, who, last year, cut out - from their entanglement, by force of dragoons, those poor fugitive Royal - Aunts: men say he is at bottom their Brother, or even <i>more</i>, so - scandalous is scandal. He drives now, with his de Staël, rapidly to the - Armies, to the Frontier Towns; produces rose-coloured Reports, not too - credible; perorates, gesticulates; wavers poising himself on the top, for - a moment, seen of men; then tumbles, dismissed, washed away by the - Time-flood. - </p> - - <p> - Also the fair Princess de Lamballe intrigues, bosom friend of her - Majesty: to the angering of Patriotism. Beautiful Unfortunate, why did - she ever return from England? Her small silver-voice, what can it profit - in that piping of the black World-tornado? Which will whirl <i>her</i>, - poor fragile Bird of Paradise, against grim rocks. Lamballe and de Staël - intrigue visibly, apart or together: but who shall reckon how many - others, and in what infinite ways, invisibly! Is there not what one may - call an “Austrian Committee,” sitting invisible in the Tuileries; centre - of an invisible Anti-National Spiderweb, which, for we sleep among - mysteries, stretches its threads to the ends of the Earth? Journalist - Carra has now the clearest certainty of it: to Brissotin Patriotism, and - France generally, it is growing more and more probable. - </p> - - <p> - O Reader, hast thou no pity for this Constitution? Rheumatic shooting - pains in its members; pressure of hydrocephale and hysteric vapours on - its Brain: a Constitution divided against itself; which will never march, - hardly even stagger? Why were not Drouet and Procureur Sausse in their - beds, that unblessed Varennes Night! Why did they not, in the name of - Heaven, let the Korff Berline go whither it listed! Nameless incoherency, - incompatibility, perhaps prodigies at which the world still shudders, had - been spared. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But now comes the third thing that bodes ill for the marching of this - French Constitution: besides the French People, and the French King, - there is thirdly—the assembled European world? it has become - necessary now to look at that also. Fair France is so luminous: and round - and round it, is troublous Cimmerian Night. Calonnes, Bréteuils hover - dim, far-flown; overnetting Europe with intrigues. From Turin to Vienna; - to Berlin, and utmost Petersburg in the frozen North! Great Burke has - raised his great voice long ago; eloquently demonstrating that the end of - an Epoch is come, to all appearance the end of Civilised Time. Him many - answer: Camille Desmoulins, Clootz Speaker of Mankind, Paine the - rebellious Needleman, and honourable Gallic Vindicators in that country - and in this: but the great Burke remains unanswerable; “The Age of - Chivalry <i>is</i> gone,” and could not but go, having now produced the - still more indomitable Age of Hunger. Altars enough, of the Dubois-Rohan - sort, changing to the Gobel-and-Talleyrand sort, are faring by rapid - transmutation to, shall we say, the right Proprietor of them? French Game - and French Game-Preservers did alight on the Cliffs of Dover, with cries - of distress. Who will say that the end of much is not come? A set of - mortals has risen, who believe that Truth is not a printed Speculation, - but a practical Fact; that Freedom and Brotherhood are possible in this - Earth, supposed always to be Belial’s, which “the Supreme Quack” was to - inherit! Who will say that Church, State, Throne, Altar are not in - danger; that the sacred Strong-box itself, last Palladium of effete - Humanity, may not be blasphemously blown upon, and its padlocks undone? - </p> - - <p> - The poor Constituent Assembly might act with what delicacy and diplomacy - it would; declare that it abjured meddling with its neighbours, foreign - conquest, and so forth; but from the first this thing was to be - predicted: that old Europe and new France could not subsist - <i>together</i>. A Glorious Revolution, oversetting State-Prisons and - Feudalism; publishing, with outburst of Federative Cannon, in face of all - the Earth, that Appearance is not Reality, how shall it subsist amid - Governments which, if Appearance is <i>not</i> Reality, are—one - knows not what? In death feud, and internecine wrestle and battle, it - shall subsist with them; not otherwise. - </p> - - <p> - Rights of Man, printed on Cotton Handkerchiefs, in various dialects of - human speech, pass over to the Frankfort Fair.<a href="#linknote-434" - name="linknoteref-434" id="linknoteref-434">[434]</a> What say we, - Frankfort Fair? They have crossed Euphrates and the fabulous Hydaspes; - wafted themselves beyond the Ural, Altai, Himmalayah: struck off from - wood stereotypes, in angular Picture-writing, they are jabbered and - jingled of in China and Japan. Where will it stop? Kien-Lung smells - mischief; not the remotest Dalai-Lama shall now knead his dough-pills in - peace.—Hateful to us; as is the Night! Bestir yourselves, ye - Defenders of Order! They do bestir themselves: all Kings and Kinglets, - with their spiritual temporal array, are astir; their brows clouded with - menace. Diplomatic emissaries fly swift; Conventions, privy Conclaves - assemble; and wise wigs wag, taking what counsel they can. - </p> - - <p> - Also, as we said, the Pamphleteer draws pen, on this side and that: - zealous fists beat the Pulpit-drum. Not without issue! Did not iron - Birmingham, shouting “Church and King,” itself knew not why, burst out, - last July, into rage, drunkenness, and fire; and your Priestleys, and the - like, dining there on that Bastille day, get the maddest singeing: - scandalous to consider! In which same days, as we can remark, high - Potentates, Austrian and Prussian, with Emigrants, were faring towards - Pilnitz in Saxony; there, on the 27th of August, they, keeping to - themselves what further “secret Treaty” there might or might not be, did - publish their hopes and their threatenings, their Declaration that it was - “the common cause of Kings.” - </p> - - <p> - Where a will to quarrel is, there is a way. Our readers remember that - Pentecost-Night, Fourth of August 1789, when Feudalism fell in a few - hours? The National Assembly, in abolishing Feudalism, promised that - “compensation” should be given; and did endeavour to give it. - Nevertheless the Austrian Kaiser answers that his German Princes, for - their part, cannot be unfeudalised; that they have Possessions in French - Alsace, and Feudal Rights secured to them, for which no conceivable - compensation will suffice. So this of the Possessioned Princes, - “<i>Princes Possessionés</i>” is bandied from Court to Court; covers - acres of diplomatic paper at this day: a weariness to the world. Kaunitz - argues from Vienna; Delessart responds from Paris, though perhaps not - sharply enough. The Kaiser and his Possessioned Princes will too - evidently come and <i>take</i> compensation—so much as they can - get. Nay might one not <i>partition</i> France, as we have done Poland, - and are doing; and so pacify it with a vengeance? - </p> - - <p> - From South to North! For actually it is “the common cause of Kings.” - Swedish Gustav, sworn Knight of the Queen of France, will lead Coalised - Armies;—had not Ankarstrom treasonously shot him; for, indeed, - there were griefs nearer home.<a href="#linknote-435" - name="linknoteref-435" id="linknoteref-435">[435]</a> Austria and Prussia - speak at Pilnitz; all men intensely listening: Imperial Rescripts have - gone out from Turin; there will be secret Convention at Vienna. Catherine - of Russia beckons approvingly; will help, were she ready. Spanish Bourbon - stirs amid his pillows; from him too, even from him, shall there come - help. Lean Pitt, “the Minister of Preparatives,” looks out from his - watch-tower in Saint-James’s, in a suspicious manner. Councillors - plotting, Calonnes dim-hovering;—alas, Serjeants rub-a-dubbing - openly through all manner of German market-towns, collecting ragged - valour!<a href="#linknote-436" name="linknoteref-436" - id="linknoteref-436">[436]</a> Look where you will, immeasurable - Obscurantism is girdling this fair France; which, again, will not be - girdled by it. Europe is in travail; pang after pang; what a shriek was - that of Pilnitz! The birth will be: WAR. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nay the worst feature of the business is this last, still to be named; - the Emigrants at Coblentz, so many thousands ranking there, in bitter - hate and menace: King’s Brothers, all Princes of the Blood except wicked - d’Orléans; your duelling de Castries, your eloquent Cazalès; bull-headed - Malseignes, a wargod Broglie; Distaff Seigneurs, insulted Officers, all - that have ridden across the Rhine-stream;—d’Artois welcoming Abbé - Maury with a kiss, and clasping him publicly to his own royal heart! - Emigration, flowing over the Frontiers, now in drops, now in streams, in - various humours of fear, of petulance, rage and hope, ever since those - first Bastille days when d’Artois went, “to shame the citizens of - Paris,”—has swollen to the size of a Phenomenon of the world. - Coblentz is become a small extra-national Versailles; a Versailles <i>in - partibus:</i> briguing, intriguing, favouritism, strumpetocracy itself, - they say, goes on there; all the old activities, on a small scale, - quickened by hungry Revenge. - </p> - - <p> - Enthusiasm, of loyalty, of hatred and hope, has risen to a high pitch; - as, in any Coblentz tavern, you may hear, in speech, and in singing. - Maury assists in the interior Council; much is decided on; for one thing, - they keep lists of the dates of your emigrating; a month sooner, or a - month later determines your greater or your less right to the coming - Division of the Spoil. Cazalès himself, because he had occasionally - spoken with a Constitutional tone, was looked on coldly at first: so pure - are our principles.<a href="#linknote-437" name="linknoteref-437" - id="linknoteref-437">[437]</a> And arms are a-hammering at Liège; “three - thousand horses” ambling hitherward from the Fairs of Germany: Cavalry - enrolling; likewise Foot-soldiers, “in blue coat, red waistcoat, and - nankeen trousers!”<a href="#linknote-438" name="linknoteref-438" - id="linknoteref-438">[438]</a> They have their secret domestic - correspondences, as their open foreign: with disaffected - Crypto-Aristocrats, with contumacious Priests, with Austrian Committee in - the Tuileries. Deserters are spirited over by assiduous crimps; - Royal-Allemand is gone almost wholly. Their route of march, towards - France and the Division of the Spoil, is marked out, were the Kaiser once - ready. ‘It is said, they mean to poison the sources; but,’ adds - Patriotism making Report of it, ‘they will not poison the source of - Liberty,’ whereat “<i>on applaudit</i>,” we cannot but applaud. Also they - have manufactories of False Assignats; and men that circulate in the - interior distributing and disbursing the same; one of these we denounce - now to Legislative Patriotism: “A man Lebrun by name; about thirty years - of age, with blonde hair and in quantity; has,” only for the time being - surely, “a black-eye, <i>œil poché;</i> goes in a <i>wiski</i> with a - black horse,”<a href="#linknote-439" name="linknoteref-439" - id="linknoteref-439">[439]</a>—always keeping his Gig! - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy Emigrants, it was their lot, and the lot of France! They are - ignorant of much that they should know: of themselves, of what is around - them. A Political Party that knows not <i>when it is beaten</i>, may - become one of the fatallist of things, to itself, and to all. Nothing - will convince these men that they cannot scatter the French Revolution at - the first blast of their war-trumpet; that the French Revolution is other - than a blustering Effervescence, of brawlers and spouters, which, at the - flash of chivalrous broadswords, at the rustle of gallows-ropes, will - burrow itself, in dens the deeper the welcomer. But, alas, what man does - know and measure himself, and the things that are round him;—else - where were the need of physical fighting at all? Never, till they are - cleft asunder, can these heads believe that a Sansculottic arm has any - vigour in it: cleft asunder, it will be too late to believe. - </p> - - <p> - One may say, without spleen against his poor erring brothers of any side, - that above all other mischiefs, this of the Emigrant Nobles acted fatally - on France. Could they have known, could they have understood! In the - beginning of 1789, a splendour and a terror still surrounded them: the - Conflagration of their Châteaus, kindled by months of obstinacy, went out - after the Fourth of August; and might have continued out, had they at all - known what to defend, what to relinquish as indefensible. They were still - a graduated Hierarchy of Authorities, or the accredited Similitude of - such: they sat there, uniting King with Commonalty; transmitting and - translating <i>gradually</i>, from degree to degree, the command of the - one into the obedience of the other; rendering command and obedience - still possible. Had they understood their place, and what to do in it, - this French Revolution, which went forth explosively in years and in - months, might have spread itself over generations; and not a - torture-death but a quiet euthanasia have been provided for many things. - </p> - - <p> - But they were proud and high, these men; they were not wise to consider. - They spurned all from them; in disdainful hate, they drew the sword and - flung away the scabbard. France has not only no Hierarchy of Authorities, - to translate command into obedience; its Hierarchy of Authorities has - fled to the enemies of France; calls loudly on the enemies of France to - interfere armed, who want but a pretext to do that. Jealous Kings and - Kaisers might have looked on long, meditating interference, yet afraid - and ashamed to interfere: but now do not the King’s Brothers, and all - French Nobles, Dignitaries and Authorities that are free to speak, which - the King himself is not,—passionately invite us, in the name of - Right and of Might? Ranked at Coblentz, from Fifteen to Twenty thousand - stand now brandishing their weapons, with the cry: On, on! Yes, - Messieurs, you shall on;—and divide the spoil according to your - dates of emigrating. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Of all which things a poor Legislative Assembly, and Patriot France, is - informed: by denunciant friend, by triumphant foe. Sulleau’s Pamphlets, - of the Rivarol Staff of Genius, circulate; heralding supreme hope. - Durosoy’s Placards tapestry the walls; <i>Chant du Coq</i> crows day, - pecked at by Tallien’s <i>Ami des Citoyens</i>. King’s-Friend, Royou, - <i>Ami du Roi</i>, can name, in exact arithmetical ciphers, the - contingents of the various Invading Potentates; in all, Four hundred and - nineteen thousand Foreign fighting men, with Fifteen thousand Emigrants. - Not to reckon these your daily and hourly desertions, which an Editor - must daily record, of whole Companies, and even Regiments, crying <i>Vive - le Roi, Vive la Reine</i>, and marching over with banners spread:<a - href="#linknote-440" name="linknoteref-440" - id="linknoteref-440">[440]</a>—lies all, and wind; yet to - Patriotism not wind; nor, alas, one day, to Royou! Patriotism, therefore, - may brawl and babble yet a little while: but its hours are numbered: - Europe is coming with Four hundred and nineteen thousand and the Chivalry - of France; the gallows, one may hope, will get its own. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0090" id="link2HCH0090"></a> - Chapter 2.5.VI.<br/> - Brigands and Jalès. - </h3> - - <p> - We shall have War, then; and on what terms! With an Executive - “pretending,” really with less and less deceptiveness now, “to be dead;” - casting even a wishful eye towards the enemy: on such terms we shall have - War. - </p> - - <p> - Public Functionary in vigorous action there is none; if it be not Rivarol - with his Staff of Genius and Two hundred and eighty Applauders. The - Public Service lies waste: the very tax-gatherer has forgotten his - cunning: in this and the other Provincial Board of Management - (<i>Directoire de Départment</i>) it is found advisable to <i>retain</i> - what Taxes you can gather, to pay your own inevitable expenditures. Our - Revenue is Assignats; emission on emission of Paper-money. And the Army; - our Three grand Armies, of Rochambeau, of Lückner, of Lafayette? Lean, - disconsolate hover these Three grand Armies, watching the Frontiers - there; three Flights of long-necked Cranes in moulting - time;—wretched, disobedient, disorganised; who never saw fire; the - old Generals and Officers gone across the Rhine. War-minister Narbonne, - he of the rose-coloured Reports, solicits recruitments, equipments, - money, always money; threatens, since he can get none,—to “take his - sword,” which belongs to himself, and go serve his country with that.<a - href="#linknote-441" name="linknoteref-441" - id="linknoteref-441">[441]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The question of questions is: What shall be done? Shall we, with a - desperate defiance which Fortune sometimes favours, draw the sword at - once, in the face of this in-rushing world of Emigration and - Obscurantism; or wait, and temporise and diplomatise, till, if possible, - our resources mature themselves a little? And yet again are our resources - growing towards maturity; or growing the <i>other</i> way? Dubious: the - ablest Patriots are divided; Brissot and his Brissotins, or Girondins, in - the Legislative, cry aloud for the former defiant plan; Robespierre, in - the Jacobins, pleads as loud for the latter dilatory one: with responses, - even with mutual reprimands; distracting the Mother of Patriotism. - Consider also what agitated Breakfasts there may be at Madame d’Udon’s in - the Place Vendôme! The alarm of all men is great. Help, ye Patriots; and - O at least agree; for the hour presses. Frost was not yet gone, when in - that “tolerably handsome apartment of the Castle of Niort,” there arrived - a Letter: General Dumouriez must to Paris. It is War-minister Narbonne - that writes; the General shall give counsel about many things.<a - href="#linknote-442" name="linknoteref-442" - id="linknoteref-442">[442]</a> In the month of February 1792, Brissotin - friends welcome their Dumouriez <i>Polymetis</i>,—comparable really - to an antique Ulysses in modern costume; quick, elastic, shifty, - insuppressible, a “many-counselled man.” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Let the Reader fancy this fair France with a whole Cimmerian Europe - girdling her, rolling in on her; black, to burst in red thunder of War; - fair France herself hand-shackled and foot-shackled in the weltering - complexities of this Social Clothing, or Constitution, which they have - made for her; a France that, in such Constitution, cannot march! And - Hunger too; and plotting Aristocrats, and excommunicating Dissident - Priests: “The man Lebrun by name” urging his black <i>wiski</i>, visible - to the eye: and, still more terrible in his invisibility, Engineer - Goguelat, with Queen’s cipher, riding and running! - </p> - - <p> - The excommunicatory Priests give new trouble in the Maine and Loire; La - Vendée, nor Cathelineau the wool-dealer, has not ceased grumbling and - rumbling. Nay behold Jalès itself once more: how often does that - real-imaginary Camp of the Fiend require to be extinguished! For near two - years now, it has waned faint and again waxed bright, in the bewildered - soul of Patriotism: actually, if Patriotism knew it, one of the most - surprising products of Nature working with Art. Royalist Seigneurs, under - this or the other pretext, assemble the simple people of these Cevennes - Mountains; men not unused to revolt, and with heart for fighting, could - their poor heads be got persuaded. The Royalist Seigneur harangues; - harping mainly on the religious string: ‘True Priests maltreated, false - Priests intruded, Protestants (once dragooned) now triumphing, things - sacred given to the dogs;’ and so produces, from the pious Mountaineer - throat, rough growlings. ‘Shall we not testify, then, ye brave hearts of - the Cevennes; march to the rescue? Holy Religion; duty to God and King?’ - ‘<i>Si fait, si fait</i>, Just so, just so,’ answer the brave hearts - always: ‘<i>Mais il y a de bien bonnes choses dans la Révolution</i>, But - there are many good things in the Revolution too!’—And so the - matter, cajole as we may, will only turn on its axis, not stir from the - spot, and remains theatrical merely.<a href="#linknote-443" - name="linknoteref-443" id="linknoteref-443">[443]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless deepen your cajolery, harp quick and quicker, ye Royalist - Seigneurs; with a dead-lift effort you may bring it to that. In the month - of June next, this <i>Camp of Jalès</i> will step forth as a - theatricality suddenly become real; Two thousand strong, and with the - boast that it is Seventy thousand: most strange to see; with flags - flying, bayonets fixed; with Proclamation, and d’Artois Commission of - civil war! Let some Rebecqui, or other the like hot-clear Patriot; let - some “Lieutenant-Colonel Aubry,” if Rebecqui is busy elsewhere, raise - instantaneous National Guards, and disperse and dissolve it; and blow the - Old Castle asunder,<a href="#linknote-444" name="linknoteref-444" - id="linknoteref-444">[444]</a> that so, if possible, we hear of it no - more! - </p> - - <p> - In the Months of February and March, it is recorded, the terror, - especially of rural France, had risen even to the transcendental pitch: - not far from madness. In Town and Hamlet is rumour; of war, massacre: - that Austrians, Aristocrats, above all, that <i>The Brigands</i> are - close by. Men quit their houses and huts; rush fugitive, shrieking, with - wife and child, they know not whither. Such a terror, the eye-witnesses - say, never fell on a Nation; nor shall again fall, even in Reigns of - Terror expressly so-called. The Countries of the Loire, all the Central - and South-East regions, start up distracted, “simultaneously as by an - electric shock;”—for indeed grain too gets scarcer and scarcer. - “The people barricade the entrances of Towns, pile stones in the upper - stories, the women prepare boiling water; from moment to moment, - expecting the attack. In the Country, the alarm-bell rings incessant: - troops of peasants, gathered by it, scour the highways, seeking an - imaginary enemy. They are armed mostly with scythes stuck in wood; and, - arriving in wild troops at the barricaded Towns, are themselves sometimes - taken for Brigands.”<a href="#linknote-445" name="linknoteref-445" - id="linknoteref-445">[445]</a> - </p> - - <p> - So rushes old France: old France is rushing <i>down</i>. What the end - will be is known to no mortal; that the end is near all mortals may know. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0091" id="link2HCH0091"></a> - Chapter 2.5.VII.<br/> - Constitution will not march. - </h3> - - <p> - To all which our poor Legislative, tied up by an unmarching Constitution, - can oppose nothing, by way of remedy, but mere bursts of parliamentary - eloquence! They go on, debating, denouncing, objurgating: loud weltering - Chaos, which devours <i>itself.</i> - </p> - - <p> - But their two thousand and odd Decrees? Reader, these happily concern not - thee, nor me. Mere Occasional Decrees, foolish and not foolish; - sufficient for <i>that</i> day was its own evil! Of the whole two - thousand there are not, now half a score, and these mostly blighted in - the bud by royal <i>Veto</i>, that will profit or disprofit us. On the - 17th of January, the Legislative, for one thing, got its High Court, its - <i>Haute Cour</i>, set up at Orléans. The theory had been given by the - Constituent, in May last, but this is the reality: a Court for the trial - of Political Offences; a Court which cannot want work. To this it was - decreed that there needed no royal Acceptance, therefore that there could - be no <i>Veto</i>. Also Priests can now be married; ever since last - October. A patriotic adventurous Priest had made bold to marry himself - then; and not thinking this enough, came to the bar with his new spouse; - that the whole world might hold honey-moon with him, and a Law be - obtained. - </p> - - <p> - Less joyful are the Laws against Refractory Priests; and yet no less - needful! Decrees on Priests and Decrees on Emigrants: these are the two - brief Series of Decrees, worked out with endless debate, and then - cancelled by <i>Veto</i>, which mainly concern us here. For an august - National Assembly must needs conquer these Refractories, Clerical or - Laic, and thumbscrew them into obedience; yet, behold, always as you turn - your legislative thumbscrew, and will press and even crush till - Refractories give way,—King’s <i>Veto</i> steps in, with magical - paralysis; and your thumbscrew, hardly squeezing, much less crushing, - does not act! - </p> - - <p> - Truly a melancholy Set of Decrees, a pair of Sets; paralysed by - <i>Veto!</i> First, under date the 28th of October 1791, we have - Legislative Proclamation, issued by herald and bill-sticker; inviting - Monsieur, the King’s Brother to return within two months, under - penalties. To which invitation Monsieur replies nothing; or indeed - replies by Newspaper Parody, inviting the august Legislative “to return - to common sense within two months,” under penalties. Whereupon the - Legislative must take stronger measures. So, on the 9th of November, we - declare all Emigrants to be “suspect of conspiracy;” and, in brief, to be - “outlawed,” if they have not returned at Newyear’s-day:—Will the - King say <i>Veto?</i> That “triple impost” shall be levied on these men’s - Properties, or even their Properties be “put in sequestration,” one can - understand. But further, on Newyear’s-day itself, not an individual - having “returned,” we declare, and with fresh emphasis some fortnight - later again declare, That Monsieur is <i>déchu</i>, forfeited of his - eventual Heirship to the Crown; nay more that Condé, Calonne, and a - considerable List of others are accused of high treason; and shall be - judged by our High Court of Orléans: <i>Veto!</i>—Then again as to - Nonjurant Priests: it was decreed, in November last, that they should - forfeit what Pensions they had; be “put under inspection, under - <i>surveillance</i>,” and, if need were, be banished: <i>Veto!</i> A - still sharper turn is coming; but to this also the answer will be, - <i>Veto</i>. - </p> - - <p> - <i>Veto</i> after <i>Veto;</i> your thumbscrew paralysed! Gods and men - may see that the Legislative is in a false position. As, alas, who is in - a true one? Voices already murmur for a “National Convention.”<a - href="#linknote-446" name="linknoteref-446" - id="linknoteref-446">[446]</a> This poor Legislative, spurred and stung - into action by a whole France and a whole Europe, cannot act; can only - objurgate and perorate; with stormy “motions,” and motion in which is no - <i>way;</i> with effervescence, with noise and fuliginous fury! - </p> - - <p> - What scenes in that National Hall! President jingling his inaudible bell; - or, as utmost signal of distress, clapping on his hat; “the tumult - subsiding in twenty minutes,” and this or the other indiscreet Member - sent to the Abbaye Prison for three days! Suspected Persons must be - summoned and questioned; old M. de Sombreuil of the <i>Invalides</i> has - to give account of himself, and why he leaves his Gates open. Unusual - smoke rose from the Sèvres Pottery, indicating conspiracy; the Potters - explained that it was Necklace-Lamotte’s <i>Mémoires</i>, bought up by - her Majesty, which they were endeavouring to suppress by fire,<a - href="#linknote-447" name="linknoteref-447" - id="linknoteref-447">[447]</a>—which nevertheless he that runs may - still read. - </p> - - <p> - Again, it would seem, Duke de Brissac and the King’s Constitutional-Guard - are “making cartridges secretly in the cellars;” a set of Royalists, pure - and impure; black cut-throats many of them, picked out of gaming houses - and sinks; in all Six thousand instead of Eighteen hundred; who evidently - gloom on us every time we enter the Château.<a href="#linknote-448" - name="linknoteref-448" id="linknoteref-448">[448]</a> Wherefore, with - infinite debate, let Brissac and King’s Guard be <i>disbanded</i>. - Disbanded accordingly they are; after only two months of existence, for - they did not get on foot till March of this same year. So ends briefly - the King’s new Constitutional <i>Maison Militaire;</i> he must now be - guarded by mere Swiss and blue Nationals again. It seems the lot of - Constitutional things. New Constitutional <i>Maison Civile</i> he would - never even establish, much as Barnave urged it; old resident Duchesses - sniffed at it, and held aloof; on the whole her Majesty thought it not - worth while, the Noblesse would so soon be back triumphant.<a - href="#linknote-449" name="linknoteref-449" - id="linknoteref-449">[449]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or, looking still into this National Hall and its scenes, behold Bishop - Torné, a Constitutional Prelate, not of severe morals, demanding that - “religious costumes and such caricatures” be abolished. Bishop Torné - warms, catches fire; finishes by untying, and indignantly flinging on the - table, as if for gage or bet, his own pontifical cross. Which cross, at - any rate, is instantly covered by the cross of <i>Te-Deum</i> Fauchet, - then by other crosses, and insignia, till all are stripped; this clerical - Senator clutching off his skull-cap, that other his - frill-collar,—lest Fanaticism return on us.<a href="#linknote-450" - name="linknoteref-450" id="linknoteref-450">[450]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Quick is the movement here! And then so confused, unsubstantial, you - might call it almost <i>spectral;</i> pallid, dim, inane, like the - Kingdoms of Dis! Unruly Liguet, shrunk to a kind of spectre for us, - pleads here, some cause that he has: amid rumour and interruption, which - excel human patience; he “tears his papers, and withdraws,” the irascible - adust little man. Nay honourable members will tear their papers, being - effervescent: Merlin of Thionville tears his papers, crying: ‘So, the - People cannot be saved by <i>you!</i>’ Nor are Deputations wanting: - Deputations of Sections; generally with complaint and denouncement, - always with Patriot fervour of sentiment: Deputation of Women, pleading - that they also may be allowed to take Pikes, and exercise in the - Champ-de-Mars. Why not, ye Amazons, if it be in you? Then occasionally, - having done our message and got answer, we “defile through the Hall, - singing <i>ça-ira;</i>” or rather roll and whirl through it, “dancing our - <i>ronde patriotique</i> the while,”—our new <i>Carmagnole</i>, or - Pyrrhic war-dance and liberty-dance. Patriot Huguenin, Ex-Advocate, - Ex-Carabineer, Ex-Clerk of the Barriers, comes deputed, with - Saint-Antoine at his heels; denouncing Anti-patriotism, Famine, - Forstalment and Man-eaters; asks an august Legislative: ‘Is there not a - <i>tocsin in your hearts</i> against these <i>mangeurs d’hommes!</i>’<a - href="#linknote-451" name="linknoteref-451" - id="linknoteref-451">[451]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But above all things, for this is a continual business, the Legislative - has to reprimand the King’s Ministers. Of His Majesty’s Ministers we have - said hitherto, and say, next to nothing. Still more spectral these! - Sorrowful; of no permanency any of them, none at least since Montmorin - vanished: the “eldest of the King’s Council” is occasionally not ten days - old!<a href="#linknote-452" name="linknoteref-452" - id="linknoteref-452">[452]</a> Feuillant-Constitutional, as your - respectable Cahier de Gerville, as your respectable unfortunate - Delessarts; or Royalist-Constitutional, as Montmorin last Friend of - Necker; or Aristocrat as Bertrand-Moleville: they flit there - phantom-like, in the huge simmering confusion; poor shadows, dashed in - the racking winds; powerless, without meaning;—whom the human - memory need not charge itself with. - </p> - - <p> - But how often, we say, are these poor Majesty’s Ministers summoned over; - to be questioned, tutored; nay, threatened, almost bullied! They answer - what, with adroitest simulation and casuistry, they can: of which a poor - Legislative knows not what to make. One thing only is clear, That - Cimmerian Europe is girdling us in; that France (not actually dead, - surely?) cannot march. Have a care, ye Ministers! Sharp Guadet transfixes - you with cross-questions, with sudden Advocate-conclusions; the sleeping - tempest that is in Vergniaud can be awakened. Restless Brissot brings up - Reports, Accusations, endless thin Logic; it is the man’s highday even - now. Condorcet redacts, with his firm pen, our “Address of the - Legislative Assembly to the French Nation.”<a href="#linknote-453" - name="linknoteref-453" id="linknoteref-453">[453]</a> Fiery Max Isnard, - who, for the rest, will ‘carry not Fire and Sword’ on those Cimmerian - Enemies ‘but Liberty,’—is for declaring ‘that we hold Ministers - responsible; and that by responsibility we mean death, <i>nous entendons - la mort</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - For verily it grows serious: the time presses, and traitors there are. - Bertrand-Moleville has a smooth tongue, the known Aristocrat; gall in his - heart. How his answers and explanations flow ready; jesuitic, plausible - to the ear! But perhaps the notablest is this, which befell once when - Bertrand had done answering and was withdrawn. Scarcely had the august - Assembly begun considering what was to be done with him, when the Hall - fills with <i>smoke</i>. Thick sour smoke: no oratory, only wheezing and - barking;—irremediable; so that the august Assembly has to - adjourn!<a href="#linknote-454" name="linknoteref-454" - id="linknoteref-454">[454]</a> A miracle? Typical miracle? One knows not: - only this one seems to know, that “the Keeper of the Stoves <i>was - appointed</i> by Bertrand” or by some underling of his!—O - fuliginous confused Kingdom of Dis, with thy Tantalus-Ixion toils, with - thy angry Fire-floods, and Streams named of Lamentation, why hast thou - not thy Lethe too, that so one might <i>finish?</i> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0092" id="link2HCH0092"></a> - Chapter 2.5.VIII.<br/> - The Jacobins. - </h3> - - <p> - Nevertheless let not Patriotism despair. Have we not, in Paris at least, - a virtuous Pétion, a wholly Patriotic Municipality? Virtuous Pétion, ever - since November, is Mayor of Paris: in our Municipality, the Public, for - the Public is now admitted too, may behold an energetic Danton; further, - an epigrammatic slow-sure Manuel; a resolute unrepentant - Billaud-Varennes, of Jesuit breeding; Tallien able-editor; and nothing - but Patriots, better or worse. So ran the November Elections: to the joy - of most citizens; nay the very Court supported Pétion rather than - Lafayette. And so Bailly and his Feuillants, long waning like the Moon, - had to withdraw then, making some sorrowful obeisance, into - extinction;—or indeed into worse, into lurid half-light, grimmed by - the shadow of that Red Flag of theirs, and bitter memory of the - Champ-de-Mars. How swift is the progress of things and men! Not now does - Lafayette, as on that Federation-day, when <i>his</i> noon was, “press - his sword firmly on the Fatherland’s Altar,” and swear in sight of - France: ah no; he, waning and setting ever since that hour, hangs now, - disastrous, on the edge of the horizon; commanding one of those Three - moulting Crane-flights of Armies, in a most suspected, unfruitful, - uncomfortable manner! - </p> - - <p> - But, at most, cannot Patriotism, so many thousands strong in this - Metropolis of the Universe, help itself? Has it not right-hands, pikes? - Hammering of pikes, which was not to be prohibited by Mayor Bailly, has - been sanctioned by Mayor Pétion; sanctioned by Legislative Assembly. How - not, when the King’s so-called Constitutional Guard “was making - cartridges in secret?” Changes are necessary for the National Guard - itself; this whole Feuillant-Aristocrat Staff of the Guard must be - disbanded. Likewise, citizens without uniform may surely rank in the - Guard, the pike beside the musket, in such a time: the “active” citizen - and the passive who can fight for us, are they not both welcome?—O - my Patriot friends, indubitably Yes! Nay the truth is, Patriotism - throughout, were it never so white-frilled, logical, respectable, must - either lean itself heartily on Sansculottism, the black, bottomless; or - else vanish, in the frightfullest way, to Limbo! Thus some, with upturned - nose, will altogether sniff and disdain Sansculottism; others will lean - heartily on it; nay others again will lean what we call - <i>heartlessly</i> on it: three sorts; each sort with a destiny - corresponding.<a href="#linknote-455" name="linknoteref-455" - id="linknoteref-455">[455]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In such point of view, however, have we not for the present a Volunteer - Ally, stronger than all the rest: namely, Hunger? Hunger; and what - rushing of Panic Terror this and the sum-total of our other miseries may - bring! For Sansculottism grows by what all other things die of. Stupid - Peter Baille almost made an epigram, though unconsciously, and with the - Patriot world laughing not at it but at him, when he wrote “<i>Tout va - bien ici, le pain manque</i>, All goes well here, victuals not to be - had.”<a href="#linknote-456" name="linknoteref-456" - id="linknoteref-456">[456]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Neither, if you knew it, is Patriotism without her Constitution that - <i>can</i> march; her <i>not</i> impotent Parliament; or call it, - Ecumenic Council, and General-Assembly of the Jean-Jacques Churches: the - MOTHER-SOCIETY, namely! Mother-Society with her three hundred full-grown - Daughters; with what we can call little Granddaughters trying to walk, in - every village of France, numerable, as Burke thinks, by the hundred - thousand. This is the true Constitution; made not by Twelve-Hundred - august Senators, but by Nature herself; and has grown, unconsciously, out - of the wants and the efforts of these Twenty-five Millions of men. They - are “Lords of the Articles,” our Jacobins; they originate debates for the - Legislative; discuss Peace and War; settle beforehand what the - Legislative is to do. Greatly to the scandal of philosophical men, and of - most Historians;—who do in that judge naturally, and yet not - wisely. A Governing power must exist: your other powers here are - simulacra; this power is <i>it.</i> - </p> - - <p> - Great is the Mother Society: She has had the honour to be denounced by - Austrian Kaunitz;<a href="#linknote-457" name="linknoteref-457" - id="linknoteref-457">[457]</a> and is all the dearer to Patriotism. By - fortune and valour, she has extinguished Feuillantism itself, at least - the Feuillant Club. This latter, high as it once carried its head, she, - on the 18th of February, has the satisfaction to see shut, extinct; - Patriots having gone thither, with tumult, to hiss it out of pain. The - Mother Society has enlarged her locality, stretches now over the whole - nave of the Church. Let us glance in, with the worthy Toulongeon, our old - Ex-Constituent Friend, who happily has eyes to see: “The nave of the - Jacobins Church,” says he, “is changed into a vast Circus, the seats of - which mount up circularly like an amphitheatre to the very groin of the - domed roof. A high Pyramid of black marble, built against one of the - walls, which was formerly a funeral monument, has alone been left - standing: it serves now as back to the Office-bearers’ Bureau. Here on an - elevated Platform sit President and Secretaries, behind and above them - the white Busts of Mirabeau, of Franklin, and various others, nay finally - of Marat. Facing this is the Tribune, raised till it is midway between - floor and groin of the dome, so that the speaker’s voice may be in the - centre. From that point, thunder the voices which shake all Europe: down - below, in silence, are forging the thunderbolts and the firebrands. - Penetrating into this huge circuit, where all is out of measure, - gigantic, the mind cannot repress some movement of terror and wonder; the - imagination recalls those dread temples which Poetry, of old, had - consecrated to the Avenging Deities.”<a href="#linknote-458" - name="linknoteref-458" id="linknoteref-458">[458]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Scenes too are in this Jacobin Amphitheatre,—had History time for - them. Flags of the “Three free Peoples of the Universe,” trinal brotherly - flags of England, America, France, have been waved here in concert; by - London Deputation, of Whigs or <i>Wighs</i> and their Club, on this hand, - and by young French Citizenesses on that; beautiful sweet-tongued Female - Citizens, who solemnly send over salutation and brotherhood, also - Tricolor stitched by their own needle, and finally Ears of Wheat; while - the dome rebellows with <i>Vivent les trois peuples libres!</i> from all - throats:—a most dramatic scene. Demoiselle Théroigne recites, from - that Tribune in mid air, her persecutions in Austria; comes leaning on - the arm of Joseph Chénier, Poet Chénier, to demand Liberty for the - hapless Swiss of Château-Vieux.<a href="#linknote-459" - name="linknoteref-459" id="linknoteref-459">[459]</a> Be of hope, ye - Forty Swiss; tugging there, in the Brest waters; <i>not</i> forgotten! - </p> - - <p> - Deputy Brissot perorates from that Tribune; Desmoulins, our wicked - Camille, interjecting audibly from below, ‘<i>Coquin!</i>’ Here, though - oftener in the Cordeliers, reverberates the lion-voice of Danton; grim - Billaud-Varennes is here; Collot d’Herbois, pleading for the Forty Swiss; - tearing a passion to rags. Apophthegmatic Manuel winds up in this pithy - way: ‘A Minister must perish!’—to which the Amphitheatre responds: - ‘<i>Tous, Tous</i>, All, All!’ But the Chief Priest and Speaker of this - place, as we said, is Robespierre, the long-winded incorruptible man. - What spirit of Patriotism dwelt in men in those times, this one fact, it - seems to us, will evince: that fifteen hundred human creatures, not bound - to it, sat quiet under the oratory of Robespierre; nay, listened nightly, - hour after hour, applausive; and gaped as for the word of life. More - insupportable individual, one would say, seldom opened his mouth in any - Tribune. Acrid, implacable-impotent; dull-drawling, barren as the - Harmattan-wind! He pleads, in endless earnest-shallow speech, against - immediate War, against Woollen Caps or <i>Bonnets Rouges</i>, against - many things; and is the Trismegistus and Dalai-Lama of Patriot men. Whom - nevertheless a shrill-voiced little man, yet with fine eyes, and a broad - beautifully sloping brow, rises respectfully to controvert: he is, say - the Newspaper Reporters, “M. Louvet, Author of the charming Romance of - <i>Faublas</i>.” Steady, ye Patriots! Pull not <i>yet</i> two ways; with - a France rushing panic-stricken in the rural districts, and a Cimmerian - Europe storming in on you! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0093" id="link2HCH0093"></a> - Chapter 2.5.IX.<br/> - Minister Roland. - </h3> - - <p> - About the vernal equinox, however, one unexpected gleam of hope does - burst forth on Patriotism: the appointment of a thoroughly Patriot - Ministry. This also his Majesty, among his innumerable experiments of - wedding fire to water, will try. <i>Quod bonum sit</i>. Madame d’Udon’s - Breakfasts have jingled with a new significance; not even Genevese Dumont - but had a word in it. Finally, on the 15th and onwards to the 23d day of - March, 1792, when all is negociated,—this is the blessed issue; - this Patriot Ministry that we see. - </p> - - <p> - General Dumouriez, with the Foreign Portfolio shall ply Kaunitz and the - Kaiser, in another style than did poor Delessarts; whom indeed we have - sent to our High Court of Orléans for his sluggishness. War-minister - Narbonne is washed away by the Time-flood; poor Chevalier de Grave, - chosen by the Court, is fast washing away: then shall austere Servan, - able Engineer-Officer, mount suddenly to the War Department. Genevese - Clavière sees an old omen realized: passing the Finance Hotel, long years - ago, as a poor Genevese Exile, it was borne wondrously on his mind that - <i>he</i> was to be Finance Minister; and now he is it;—and his - poor Wife, given up by the Doctors, rises and walks, not the victim of - nerves but their vanquisher.<a href="#linknote-460" - name="linknoteref-460" id="linknoteref-460">[460]</a> And above all, our - Minister of the Interior? Roland de la Platrière, he of Lyons! So have - the Brissotins, public or private Opinion, and Breakfasts in the Place - Vendôme decided it. Strict Roland, compared to a <i>Quaker - endimanché</i>, or Sunday Quaker, goes to kiss hands at the Tuileries, in - round hat and sleek hair, his shoes tied with mere riband or ferrat! The - Supreme Usher twitches Dumouriez aside: ‘<i>Quoi, Monsieur!</i> No - buckles to his shoes?’—‘Ah, Monsieur,’ answers Dumouriez, glancing - towards the ferrat: ‘All is lost, <i>Tout est perdu</i>.’<a - href="#linknote-461" name="linknoteref-461" - id="linknoteref-461">[461]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so our fair Roland removes from her upper floor in the Rue - Saint-Jacques, to the sumptuous saloons once occupied by Madame Necker. - Nay still earlier, it was Calonne that did all this gilding; it was he - who ground these lustres, Venetian mirrors; who polished this inlaying, - this veneering and or-moulu; and made it, by rubbing of the proper - <i>lamp</i>, an Aladdin’s Palace:—and now behold, he wanders - dim-flitting over Europe, half-drowned in the Rhine-stream, scarcely - saving his Papers! <i>Vos non vobis</i>.—The fair Roland, equal to - either fortune, has her public Dinner on Fridays, the Ministers all there - in a body: she withdraws to her desk (the cloth once removed), and seems - busy writing; nevertheless loses no word: if for example Deputy Brissot - and Minister Clavière get too hot in argument, she, not without timidity, - yet with a cunning gracefulness, will interpose. Deputy Brissot’s head, - they say, is getting giddy, in this sudden height: as feeble heads do. - </p> - - <p> - Envious men insinuate that the Wife Roland is Minister, and not the - Husband: it is happily the worst they have to charge her with. For the - rest, let whose head soever be getting giddy, it is not this brave - woman’s. Serene and queenly here, as she was of old in her own hired - garret of the Ursulines Convent! She who has quietly shelled French-beans - for her dinner; being led to that, as a young maiden, by quiet insight - and computation; and knowing what that was, and what she was: such a one - will also look quietly on or-moulu and veneering, not ignorant of these - either. Calonne did the veneering: he gave dinners here, old Besenval - diplomatically whispering to him; and was great: yet Calonne we saw at - last “walk with long strides.” Necker next: and where now is Necker? Us - also a swift change has brought hither; a swift change will send us - hence. Not a Palace but a Caravansera! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So wags and wavers this unrestful World, day after day, month after - month. The Streets of Paris, and all Cities, roll daily their oscillatory - flood of men; which flood does, nightly, disappear, and lie hidden - horizontal in beds and trucklebeds; and awakes on the morrow to new - perpendicularity and movement. Men go their roads, foolish or - wise;—Engineer Goguelat to and fro, bearing Queen’s cipher. A - Madame de Staël is busy; cannot clutch her Narbonne from the Time-flood: - a Princess de Lamballe is busy; cannot help her Queen. Barnave, seeing - the Feuillants dispersed, and Coblentz so brisk, begs by way of final - recompence to kiss her Majesty’s hand; augurs not well of her new course; - and retires home to Grenoble, to wed an heiress there. The Café Valois - and Méot the Restaurateur’s hear daily gasconade; loud babble of Half-pay - Royalists, with or without Poniards; remnants of Aristocrat saloons call - the new Ministry <i>Ministère-Sansculotte</i>. A Louvet, of the Romance - <i>Faublas</i>, is busy in the Jacobins. A Cazotte, of the Romance - <i>Diable Amoureux</i>, is busy elsewhere: better wert thou quiet, old - Cazotte; it is a world, this, of magic become <i>real!</i> All men are - busy; doing they only half guess what:—flinging seeds, of tares - mostly, into the ‘Seed-field of TIME’ this, by and by, will declare - wholly what. - </p> - - <p> - But Social Explosions have in them something dread, and as it were mad - and magical: which indeed Life always secretly has; thus the dumb Earth - (says Fable), if you pull her mandrake-roots, will give a dæmonic - mad-making <i>moan</i>. These Explosions and Revolts ripen, break forth - like dumb dread Forces of Nature; and yet they are Men’s forces; and yet - <i>we</i> are part of them: the Dæmonic that is in man’s life has burst - out on us, will sweep us too away!—One day here is like another, - and yet it is not like but different. How much is growing, silently - resistless, at all moments! Thoughts are growing; forms of Speech are - growing, and Customs and even Costumes; still more visibly are actions - and transactions growing, and that doomed Strife, of France with herself - and with the whole world. - </p> - - <p> - The word <i>Liberty</i> is never named now except in conjunction with - another; <i>Liberty</i> and <i>Equality</i>. In like manner, what, in a - reign of Liberty and Equality, can these words, “Sir,” “obedient - Servant,” “Honour to be,” and such like, signify? Tatters and fibres of - old Feudality; which, were it only in the Grammatical province, ought to - be rooted out! The Mother Society has long since had proposals to that - effect: these she could not entertain, not at the moment. Note too how - the Jacobin Brethren are mounting new symbolical headgear: the Woollen - Cap or Nightcap, <i>bonnet de laine</i>, better known as <i>bonnet - rouge</i>, the colour being <i>red</i>. A thing one wears not only by way - of Phrygian Cap-of-Liberty, but also for convenience” sake, and then also - in compliment to the Lower-class Patriots and Bastille-Heroes; for the - Red Nightcap combines all the three properties. Nay cockades themselves - begin to be made of wool, of tricolor yarn: the riband-cockade, as a - symptom of Feuillant Upper-class temper, is becoming suspicious. Signs of - the times. - </p> - - <p> - Still more, note the travail-throes of Europe: or, rather, note the birth - she brings; for the successive throes and shrieks, of Austrian and - Prussian Alliance, of Kaunitz Anti-jacobin Despatch, of French - Ambassadors cast out, and so forth, were long to note. Dumouriez - corresponds with Kaunitz, Metternich, or Cobentzel, in another style that - Delessarts did. Strict becomes stricter; categorical answer, as to this - Coblentz work and much else, shall be given. Failing which? Failing - which, on the 20th day of April 1792, King and Ministers step over to the - Salle de Manége; promulgate how the matter stands; and poor Louis, “with - tears in his eyes,” proposes that the Assembly do now decree War. After - due eloquence, War is decreed that night. - </p> - - <p> - War, indeed! Paris came all crowding, full of expectancy, to the morning, - and still more to the evening session. D’Orléans with his two sons, is - there; looks on, wide-eyed, from the opposite Gallery.<a - href="#linknote-462" name="linknoteref-462" - id="linknoteref-462">[462]</a> Thou canst look, O Philippe: it is a War - big with issues, for thee and for all men. Cimmerian Obscurantism and - this thrice glorious Revolution shall wrestle for it, then: some - Four-and-twenty years; in immeasurable Briareus’ wrestle; trampling and - tearing; before they can come to any, not agreement, but compromise, and - approximate ascertainment each of what is in the other. - </p> - - <p> - Let our Three Generals on the Frontiers look to it, therefore; and poor - Chevalier de Grave, the Warminister, consider what he will do. What is in - the three Generals and Armies we may guess. As for poor Chevalier de - Grave, he, in this whirl of things all coming to a press and pinch upon - him, loses head, and merely whirls with them, in a totally distracted - manner; signing himself at last, “De Grave, <i>Mayor of Paris;</i>” - whereupon he demits, returns over the Channel, to walk in Kensington - Gardens;<a href="#linknote-463" name="linknoteref-463" - id="linknoteref-463">[463]</a> and austere Servan, the able - Engineer-Officer, is elevated in his stead. To the post of Honour? To - that of Difficulty, at least. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0094" id="link2HCH0094"></a> - Chapter 2.5.X.<br/> - Pétion-National-Pique. - </h3> - - <p> - And yet, how, on dark bottomless Cataracts there plays the foolishest - fantastic-coloured spray and shadow; hiding the Abyss under vapoury - rainbows! Alongside of this discussion as to Austrian-Prussian War, there - goes on no less but more vehemently a discussion, Whether the Forty or - Two-and-forty Swiss of Château-Vieux shall be liberated from the Brest - Gallies? And then, Whether, being liberated, they shall have a public - Festival, or only private ones? - </p> - - <p> - Théroigne, as we saw, spoke; and Collot took up the tale. Has not - Bouillé’s final display of himself, in that final Night of Spurs, stamped - your so-called “Revolt of Nanci” into a “Massacre of Nanci,” for all - Patriot judgments? Hateful is that massacre; hateful the - Lafayette-Feuillant “public thanks” given for it! For indeed, Jacobin - Patriotism and dispersed Feuillantism are now at death-grips; and do - fight with all weapons, even with scenic shows. The walls of Paris, - accordingly, are covered with Placard and Counter-Placard, on the subject - of Forty Swiss blockheads. Journal responds to Journal; Player Collot to - Poetaster Roucher; Joseph Chénier the Jacobin, squire of Théroigne, to - his Brother Andre the Feuillant; Mayor Pétion to Dupont de Nemours: and - for the space of two months, there is nowhere peace for the thought of - man,—till this thing be settled. - </p> - - <p> - <i>Gloria in excelsis!</i> The Forty Swiss are at last got “amnestied.” - Rejoice ye Forty: doff your greasy wool Bonnets, which shall become Caps - of Liberty. The Brest Daughter-Society welcomes you from on board, with - kisses on each cheek: your iron Handcuffs are disputed as Relics of - Saints; the Brest Society indeed can have one portion, which it will beat - into Pikes, a sort of Sacred Pikes; but the other portion must belong to - Paris, and be suspended from the dome there, along with the Flags of the - Three Free Peoples! Such a goose is man; and cackles over plush-velvet - Grand Monarques and woollen Galley-slaves; over everything and over - nothing,—and will cackle with his whole soul merely if others - cackle! - </p> - - <p> - On the ninth morning of April, these Forty Swiss blockheads arrive. From - Versailles; with <i>vivats</i> heaven-high; with the affluence of men and - women. To the Townhall we conduct them; nay to the Legislative itself, - though not without difficulty. They are harangued, bedinnered, - begifted,—the very Court, <i>not</i> for conscience” sake, - contributing something; and their Public Festival shall be next Sunday. - Next Sunday accordingly it is.<a href="#linknote-464" - name="linknoteref-464" id="linknoteref-464">[464]</a> They are mounted - into a “triumphal Car resembling a ship;” are carted over Paris, with the - clang of cymbals and drums, all mortals assisting applausive; carted to - the Champ-de-Mars and Fatherland’s Altar; and finally carted, for Time - always brings deliverance,—into invisibility for evermore. - </p> - - <p> - Whereupon dispersed Feuillantism, or that Party which loves Liberty yet - not more than Monarchy, will likewise have its Festival: Festival of - Simonneau, unfortunate Mayor of Etampes, who died for the Law; most - surely for the Law, though Jacobinism disputes; being trampled down with - his Red Flag in the riot about grains. At which Festival the Public again - assists, <i>un</i>applausive: not we. - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, Festivals are not wanting; beautiful rainbow-spray when all - is now rushing treble-quick towards its Niagara Fall. National repasts - there are; countenanced by Mayor Pétion; Saint-Antoine, and the Strong - Ones of the Halles defiling through Jacobin Club, ‘their felicity,’ - according to Santerre, ‘not perfect otherwise;’ singing many-voiced their - <i>ça-ira</i>, dancing their <i>ronde patriotique</i>. Among whom one is - glad to discern Saint-Huruge, expressly “in white hat,” the - Saint-Christopher of the Carmagnole. Nay a certain <i>Tambour</i> or - National Drummer, having just been presented with a little daughter, - determines to have the new Frenchwoman christened on Fatherland’s Altar - then and there. Repast once over, he accordingly has her christened; - Fauchet the Te-Deum Bishop acting in chief, Thuriot and honourable - persons standing gossips: by the name, Pétion-National-Pique!<a - href="#linknote-465" name="linknoteref-465" - id="linknoteref-465">[465]</a> Does this remarkable Citizeness, now past - the meridian of life, still walk the Earth? Or did she die perhaps of - teething? Universal History is not indifferent. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0095" id="link2HCH0095"></a> - Chapter 2.5.XI.<br/> - The Hereditary Representative. - </h3> - - <p> - And yet it is not by carmagnole-dances and singing of <i>ça-ira</i>, that - the work can be done. Duke Brunswick is not dancing carmagnoles, but has - his drill serjeants busy. - </p> - - <p> - On the Frontiers, our Armies, be it treason or not, behave in the worst - way. Troops badly commanded, shall we say? Or troops intrinsically bad? - Unappointed, undisciplined, mutinous; that, in a thirty-years peace, have - never seen fire? In any case, Lafayette’s and Rochambeau’s little clutch, - which they made at Austrian Flanders, has prospered as badly as clutch - need do: soldiers starting at their own shadow; suddenly shrieking, - ‘<i>On nous trahit</i>,’ and flying off in wild panic, at or before the - first shot;—managing only to hang some two or three Prisoners they - had picked up, and massacre their own Commander, poor Theobald Dillon, - driven into a granary by them in the Town of Lille. - </p> - - <p> - And poor Gouvion: he who sat shiftless in that Insurrection of Women! - Gouvion quitted the Legislative Hall and Parliamentary duties, in disgust - and despair, when those Galley-slaves of Château-Vieux were admitted - there. He said, ‘Between the Austrians and the Jacobins there is nothing - but a soldier’s death for it;’<a href="#linknote-466" - name="linknoteref-466" id="linknoteref-466">[466]</a> and so, “in the - dark stormy night,” he has flung himself into the throat of the Austrian - cannon, and perished in the skirmish at Maubeuge on the ninth of June. - Whom Legislative Patriotism shall mourn, with black mortcloths and melody - in the Champ-de-Mars: many a Patriot shiftier, truer none. Lafayette - himself is looking altogether dubious; in place of beating the Austrians, - is about writing to denounce the Jacobins. Rochambeau, all disconsolate, - quits the service: there remains only Lückner, the babbling old Prussian - Grenadier. - </p> - - <p> - Without Armies, without Generals! And the Cimmerian Night, <i>has</i> - gathered itself; Brunswick preparing his Proclamation; just about to - march! Let a Patriot Ministry and Legislative say, what in these - circumstances it will do? Suppress Internal Enemies, for one thing, - answers the Patriot Legislative; and proposes, on the 24th of May, its - Decree for the Banishment of Priests. Collect also some nucleus of - determined internal friends, adds War-minister Servan; and proposes, on - the 7th of June, his Camp of Twenty-thousand. Twenty-thousand National - Volunteers; Five out of each Canton; picked Patriots, for Roland has - charge of the Interior: they shall assemble here in Paris; and be for a - defence, cunningly devised, against foreign Austrians and domestic - <i>Austrian Committee</i> alike. So much can a Patriot Ministry and - Legislative do. - </p> - - <p> - Reasonable and cunningly devised as such Camp may, to Servan and - Patriotism, appear, it appears not so to Feuillantism; to that - Feuillant-Aristocrat Staff of the Paris Guard; a Staff, one would say - again, which will need to be <i>dissolved</i>. These men see, in this - proposed Camp of Servan’s, an offence; and even, as they pretend to say, - an insult. Petitions there come, in consequence, from blue Feuillants in - epaulettes; ill received. Nay, in the end, there comes one Petition, - called “of the Eight Thousand National Guards:” so many names are on it; - including women and children. Which famed Petition of the Eight Thousand - is indeed received: and the Petitioners, all under arms, are admitted to - the honours of the sitting,—if honours or even if sitting there be; - for the instant their bayonets appear at the one door, the Assembly - “adjourns,” and begins to flow out at the other.<a href="#linknote-467" - name="linknoteref-467" id="linknoteref-467">[467]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Also, in these same days, it is lamentable to see how National Guards, - escorting <i>Fête Dieu</i> or <i>Corpus-Christi</i> ceremonial, do collar - and smite down any Patriot that does not uncover as the Hostie passes. - They clap their bayonets to the breast of Cattle-butcher Legendre, a - known Patriot ever since the Bastille days; and threaten to butcher him; - though he sat quite respectfully, he says, in his Gig, at a distance of - fifty paces, waiting till the thing were by. Nay, orthodox females were - shrieking to have down the <i>Lanterne</i> on him.<a href="#linknote-468" - name="linknoteref-468" id="linknoteref-468">[468]</a> - </p> - - <p> - To such height has Feuillantism gone in this Corps. For indeed, are not - their Officers creatures of the chief Feuillant, Lafayette? The Court too - has, very naturally, been tampering with them; caressing them, ever since - that dissolution of the so-called Constitutional Guard. Some Battalions - are altogether “<i>pétris</i>, kneaded full” of Feuillantism, mere - Aristocrats at bottom: for instance, the Battalion of the - <i>Filles-Saint-Thomas</i>, made up of your Bankers, Stockbrokers, and - other Full-purses of the Rue Vivienne. Our worthy old Friend Weber, - Queen’s Foster-brother Weber, carries a musket in that - Battalion,—one may judge with what degree of Patriotic intention. - </p> - - <p> - Heedless of all which, or rather heedful of all which, the Legislative, - backed by Patriot France and the feeling of Necessity, decrees this Camp - of Twenty thousand. Decisive though conditional Banishment of malign - Priests, it has already decreed. - </p> - - <p> - It will now be seen, therefore, Whether the Hereditary Representative is - for us or against us? Whether or not, to all our other woes, this - intolerablest one is to be added; which renders us not a menaced Nation - in extreme jeopardy and need, but a paralytic Solecism of a Nation; - sitting wrapped as in dead cerements, of a Constitutional-Vesture that - were no other than a winding-sheet; our right hand glued to our left: to - wait there, writhing and wriggling, unable to stir from the spot, till in - Prussian rope we mount to the gallows? Let the Hereditary Representative - consider it well: The Decree of Priests? The Camp of Twenty - Thousand?—By Heaven, he answers, <i>Veto! Veto!</i>—Strict - Roland hands in his <i>Letter to the King;</i> or rather it was Madame’s - Letter, who wrote it all at a sitting; one of the plainest-spoken Letters - ever handed in to any King. This plain-spoken Letter King Louis has the - benefit of reading overnight. He reads, inwardly digests; and next - morning, the whole Patriot Ministry finds itself turned out. It is the - 13th of June 1792.<a href="#linknote-469" name="linknoteref-469" - id="linknoteref-469">[469]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Dumouriez the many-counselled, he, with one Duranthon, called Minister of - Justice, does indeed linger for a day or two; in rather suspicious - circumstances; speaks with the Queen, almost weeps with her: but in the - end, he too sets off for the Army; leaving what Un-Patriot or - Semi-Patriot Ministry and Ministries can now accept the helm, to accept - it. Name them not: new quick-changing Phantasms, which shift like - magic-lantern figures; more spectral than ever! - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy Queen, unhappy Louis! The two <i>Vetos</i> were so natural: are - not the Priests martyrs; also friends? This Camp of Twenty Thousand, - could it be other than of stormfullest Sansculottes? Natural; and yet, to - France, unendurable. Priests that co-operate with Coblentz must go - elsewhither with their martyrdom: stormful Sansculottes, these and no - other kind of creatures, will drive back the Austrians. If thou prefer - the Austrians, then for the love of Heaven go join them. If not, join - frankly with what will oppose them to the death. Middle course is none. - </p> - - <p> - Or alas, what extreme course was there left now, for a man like Louis? - Underhand Royalists, Ex-Minister Bertrand-Moleville, Ex-Constituent - Malouet, and all manner of unhelpful individuals, advise and advise. With - face of hope turned now on the Legislative Assembly, and now on Austria - and Coblentz, and round generally on the Chapter of Chances, an ancient - Kingship is reeling and spinning, one knows not whitherward, on the flood - of things. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0096" id="link2HCH0096"></a> - Chapter 2.5.XII.<br/> - Procession of the Black Breeches. - </h3> - - <p> - But is there a thinking man in France who, in these circumstances, can - persuade himself that the Constitution will march? Brunswick is stirring; - <i>he</i>, in few days now, will march. Shall France sit still, wrapped - in dead cerements and grave-clothes, its right hand glued to its left, - till the Brunswick Saint-Bartholomew arrive; till France be as Poland, - and its Rights of Man become a Prussian Gibbet? - </p> - - <p> - Verily, it is a moment frightful for all men. National Death; or else - some preternatural convulsive outburst of National Life;—that same, - <i>dæmonic</i> outburst! Patriots whose audacity has limits had, in - truth, better retire like Barnave; court private felicity at Grenoble. - Patriots, whose audacity has no limits must sink down into the obscure; - and, daring and defying all things, seek salvation in stratagem, in Plot - of Insurrection. Roland and young Barbaroux have spread out the Map of - France before them, Barbaroux says “with tears:” they consider what - Rivers, what Mountain ranges are in it: they will retire behind this - Loire-stream, defend these Auvergne stone-labyrinths; save some little - sacred Territory of the Free; die at least in their last ditch. Lafayette - indites his emphatic Letter to the Legislative against Jacobinism;<a - href="#linknote-470" name="linknoteref-470" - id="linknoteref-470">[470]</a> which emphatic Letter will not heal the - unhealable. - </p> - - <p> - Forward, ye Patriots whose audacity has no limits; it is you now that - must either do or die! The sections of Paris sit in deep counsel; send - out Deputation after Deputation to the Salle de Manége, to petition and - denounce. Great is their ire against tyrannous <i>Veto, Austrian - Committee</i>, and the combined Cimmerian Kings. What boots it? - Legislative listens to the “tocsin in our hearts;” grants us honours of - the sitting, sees us defile with jingle and fanfaronade; but the Camp of - Twenty Thousand, the Priest-Decree, be-vetoed by Majesty, are become - impossible for Legislative. Fiery Isnard says, ‘We will have Equality, - should we descend for it to the tomb.’ Vergniaud utters, hypothetically, - his stern Ezekiel-visions of the fate of Anti-national Kings. But the - question is: Will hypothetic prophecies, will jingle and fanfaronade - demolish the <i>Veto;</i> or will the Veto, secure in its Tuileries - Château, remain undemolishable by these? Barbaroux, dashing away his - tears, writes to the Marseilles Municipality, that they must send him - “Six hundred men who know how to die, <i>qui savent mourir</i>.”<a - href="#linknote-471" name="linknoteref-471" - id="linknoteref-471">[471]</a> No wet-eyed message this, but a fire-eyed - one;—which will be obeyed! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile the Twentieth of June is nigh, anniversary of that world-famous - Oath of the Tennis-Court: on which day, it is said, certain citizens have - in view to plant a <i>Mai</i> or Tree of Liberty, in the Tuileries - Terrace of the Feuillants; perhaps also to petition the Legislative and - Hereditary Representative about these Vetos;—with such - demonstration, jingle and evolution, as may seem profitable and - practicable. Sections have gone singly, and jingled and evolved: but if - they all went, or great part of them, and there, planting their - <i>Mai</i> in these alarming circumstances, sounded the tocsin in their - hearts? - </p> - - <p> - Among King’s Friends there can be but one opinion as to such a step: - among Nation’s Friends there may be two. On the one hand, might it not by - possibility scare away these unblessed Vetos? Private Patriots and even - Legislative Deputies may have each his own opinion, or own no-opinion: - but the hardest task falls evidently on Mayor Pétion and the Municipals, - at once Patriots and Guardians of the public Tranquillity. Hushing the - matter down with the one hand; tickling it up with the other! Mayor - Pétion and Municipality may lean this way; Department-Directory with - Procureur-Syndic Rœderer having a Feuillant tendency, may lean that. On - the whole, each man must act according to his one opinion or to his two - opinions; and all manner of influences, official representations cross - one another in the foolishest way. Perhaps after all, the Project, - desirable and yet not desirable, will dissipate itself, being run athwart - by so many complexities; and coming to nothing? - </p> - - <p> - Not so: on the Twentieth morning of June, a large Tree of Liberty, - Lombardy Poplar by kind, lies visibly tied on its car, in the - Suburb-Antoine. Suburb Saint-Marceau too, in the uttermost South-East, - and all that remote Oriental region, Pikemen and Pikewomen, National - Guards, and the unarmed curious are gathering,—with the peaceablest - intentions in the world. A tricolor Municipal arrives; speaks. Tush, it - is all peaceable, we tell thee, in the way of Law: are not Petitions - allowable, and the Patriotism of <i>Mais?</i> The tricolor Municipal - returns without effect: your Sansculottic rills continue flowing, - combining into brooks: towards noontide, led by tall Santerre in blue - uniform, by tall Saint-Huruge in white hat, it moves Westward, a - respectable river, or complication of still-swelling rivers. - </p> - - <p> - What Processions have we not seen: <i>Corpus-Christi</i> and Legendre - waiting in Gig; Bones of Voltaire with bullock-chariots, and goadsmen in - Roman Costume; Feasts of Château-Vieux and Simonneau; Gouvion Funerals, - Rousseau Sham-Funerals, and the Baptism of Pétion-National-Pike! - Nevertheless this Procession has a character of its own. Tricolor ribands - streaming aloft from pike-heads; ironshod batons; and emblems not a few; - among which, see specially these two, of the tragic and the untragic - sort: a Bull’s Heart transfixed with iron, bearing this epigraph, - “<i>Cœur d’Aristocrate</i>, Aristocrat’s Heart;” and, more striking - still, properly the standard of the host, a pair of old Black Breeches - (silk, they say), extended on cross-staff high overhead, with these - memorable words: “<i>Tremblez tyrans, voilà les Sansculottes</i>, Tremble - tyrants, here are the Sans-indispensables!” Also, the Procession trails - two cannons. - </p> - - <p> - Scarfed tricolor Municipals do now again meet it, in the Quai - Saint-Bernard; and plead earnestly, having called halt. Peaceable, ye - virtuous tricolor Municipals, peaceable are we as the sucking dove. - Behold our Tennis-Court <i>Mai</i>. Petition is legal; and as for arms, - did not an august Legislative receive the so-called Eight Thousand in - arms, Feuillants though they were? Our Pikes, are they not of National - iron? Law is our father and mother, whom we will not dishonour; but - Patriotism is our own soul. Peaceable, ye virtuous Municipals;—and - on the whole, limited as to time! Stop we cannot; march ye with - us.—The Black Breeches agitate themselves, impatient; the - cannon-wheels grumble: the many-footed Host tramps on. - </p> - - <p> - How it reached the Salle de Manége, like an ever-waxing river; got - admittance, after debate; read its Address; and defiled, dancing and - <i>ça-ira</i>-ing, led by tall sonorous Santerre and tall sonorous - Saint-Huruge: how it flowed, not now a waxing river but a shut Caspian - lake, round all Precincts of the Tuileries; the front Patriot squeezed by - the rearward, against barred iron Grates, like to have the life squeezed - out of him, and looking too into the dread throat of cannon, for National - Battalions stand ranked within: how tricolor Municipals ran assiduous, - and Royalists with Tickets of Entry; and both Majesties sat in the - interior surrounded by men in black: all this the human mind shall fancy - for itself, or read in old Newspapers, and Syndic Rœderer’s <i>Chronicle - of Fifty Days</i>.<a href="#linknote-472" name="linknoteref-472" - id="linknoteref-472">[472]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Our <i>Mai</i> is planted; if not in the Feuillants Terrace, whither is - no ingate, then in the Garden of the Capuchins, as near as we could get. - National Assembly has adjourned till the Evening Session: perhaps this - shut lake, finding no ingate, will retire to its sources again; and - disappear in peace? Alas, not yet: rearward still presses on; rearward - knows little what pressure is in the front. One would wish at all events, - were it possible, to have a word with his Majesty first! - </p> - - <p> - The shadows fall longer, eastward; it is four o’clock: will his Majesty - not come out? Hardly he! In that case, Commandant Santerre, - Cattle-butcher Legendre, Patriot Huguenin with the tocsin in his heart; - they, and others of authority, will enter <i>in</i>. Petition and request - to wearied uncertain National Guard; louder and louder petition; backed - by the rattle of our two cannons! The reluctant Grate opens: endless - Sansculottic multitudes flood the stairs; knock at the wooden guardian of - your privacy. Knocks, in such case, grow strokes, grow smashings: the - wooden guardian flies in shivers. And now ensues a Scene over which the - world has long wailed; and not unjustly; for a sorrier spectacle, of - Incongruity fronting Incongruity, and as it were recognising themselves - incongruous, and staring stupidly in each other’s face, the world seldom - saw. - </p> - - <p> - King Louis, his door being beaten on, opens it; stands with free bosom; - asking, ‘What do you want?’ The Sansculottic flood recoils awestruck; - returns however, the rear pressing on the front, with cries of ‘Veto! - Patriot Ministers! Remove Veto!’—which things, Louis valiantly - answers, this is not the time to do, nor this the way to ask him to do. - Honour what virtue is in a man. Louis does not want courage; he has even - the higher kind called moral-courage, though only the passive half of - that. His few National Grenadiers shuffle back with him, into the - embrasure of a window: there he stands, with unimpeachable passivity, - amid the shouldering and the braying; a spectacle to men. They hand him a - Red Cap of Liberty; he sets it quietly on his head, forgets it there. He - complains of thirst; half-drunk Rascality offers him a bottle, he drinks - of it. ‘Sire, do not fear,’ says one of his Grenadiers. ‘Fear?’ answers - Louis: ‘feel then,’ putting the man’s hand on his heart. So stands - Majesty in Red woollen Cap; black Sansculottism weltering round him, far - and wide, aimless, with in-articulate dissonance, with cries of ‘Veto! - Patriot Ministers!’ - </p> - - <p> - For the space of three hours or more! The National Assembly is adjourned; - tricolor Municipals avail almost nothing: Mayor Pétion tarries absent; - Authority is none. The Queen with her Children and Sister Elizabeth, in - tears and terror not for themselves only, are sitting behind barricaded - tables and Grenadiers in an inner room. The Men in Black have all wisely - disappeared. Blind lake of Sansculottism welters stagnant through the - King’s Château, for the space of three hours. - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless all things do end. Vergniaud arrives with Legislative - Deputation, the Evening Session having now opened. Mayor Pétion has - arrived; is haranguing, “lifted on the shoulders of two Grenadiers.” In - this uneasy attitude and in others, at various places without and within, - Mayor Pétion harangues; many men harangue: finally Commandant Santerre - defiles; passes out, with his Sansculottism, by the opposite side of the - Château. Passing through the room where the Queen, with an air of dignity - and sorrowful resignation, sat among the tables and Grenadiers, a woman - offers her too a Red Cap; she holds it in her hand, even puts it on the - little Prince Royal. ‘Madame,’ said Santerre, ‘this People loves you more - than you think.’<a href="#linknote-473" name="linknoteref-473" - id="linknoteref-473">[473]</a>—About eight o’clock the Royal Family - fall into each other’s arms amid “torrents of tears.” Unhappy Family! Who - would not weep for it, were there not a whole world to be wept for? - </p> - - <p> - Thus has the Age of Chivalry gone, and that of Hunger come. Thus does - all-needing Sansculottism look in the face of its <i>Roi</i>, Regulator, - King or Ableman; and find that <i>he</i> has nothing to give it. Thus do - the two Parties, brought face to face after long centuries, stare - stupidly at one another, <i>This, verily, am I; but, Good Heaven, is that - Thou?</i>—and depart, not knowing what to make of it. And yet, - Incongruities having recognised themselves to be incongruous, something - must be made of it. The Fates know what. - </p> - - <p> - This is the world-famous Twentieth of June, more worthy to be called the - <i>Procession of the Black Breeches</i>. With which, what we had to say - of this First French biennial Parliament, and its products and - activities, may perhaps fitly enough terminate. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0113" id="link2H_4_0113"></a> - BOOK 2.VI.<br/> - THE MARSEILLESE - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0097" id="link2HCH0097"></a> - Chapter 2.6.I.<br/> - Executive that does not act. - </h3> - - <p> - How could your paralytic National Executive be put “in action,” in any - measure, by such a Twentieth of June as this? Quite contrariwise: a large - sympathy for Majesty so insulted arises every where; expresses itself in - Addresses, Petitions, “Petition of the Twenty Thousand inhabitants of - Paris,” and such like, among all Constitutional persons; a decided - rallying round the Throne. - </p> - - <p> - Of which rallying it was thought King Louis might have made something. - However, he does make nothing of it, or attempt to make; for indeed his - views are lifted beyond domestic sympathy and rallying, over to Coblentz - mainly: neither in itself is the same sympathy worth much. It is sympathy - of men who believe still that the Constitution can march. Wherefore the - old discord and ferment, of Feuillant sympathy for Royalty, and Jacobin - sympathy for Fatherland, acting against each other from within; with - terror of Coblentz and Brunswick acting from without:—this discord - and ferment must hold on its course, till a catastrophe do ripen and - come. One would think, especially as Brunswick is near marching, such - catastrophe cannot now be distant. Busy, ye Twenty-five French Millions; - ye foreign Potentates, minatory Emigrants, German drill-serjeants; each - do what his hand findeth! Thou, O Reader, at such safe distance, wilt see - what they make of it among them. - </p> - - <p> - Consider therefore this pitiable Twentieth of June as a futility; no - catastrophe, rather a <i>catastasis</i>, or heightening. Do not its Black - Breeches wave there, in the Historical Imagination, like a melancholy - flag of distress; soliciting help, which no mortal can give? Soliciting - pity, which thou wert hard-hearted not to give freely, to one and all! - Other such flags, or what are called Occurrences, and black or bright - symbolic Phenomena; will flit through the Historical Imagination: these, - one after one, let us note, with extreme brevity. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The first phenomenon is that of Lafayette at the Bar of the Assembly; - after a week and day. Promptly, on hearing of this scandalous Twentieth - of June, Lafayette has quitted his Command on the North Frontier, in - better or worse order; and got hither, on the 28th, to repress the - Jacobins: not by Letter now; but by oral Petition, and weight of - character, face to face. The august Assembly finds the step questionable; - invites him meanwhile to the honours of the sitting.<a - href="#linknote-474" name="linknoteref-474" - id="linknoteref-474">[474]</a> Other honour, or advantage, there - unhappily came almost none; the Galleries all growling; fiery Isnard - glooming; sharp Guadet not wanting in sarcasms. - </p> - - <p> - And out of doors, when the sitting is over, Sieur Resson, keeper of the - Patriot <i>Café</i> in these regions, hears in the street a hurly-burly; - steps forth to look, he and his Patriot customers: it is Lafayette’s - carriage, with a tumultuous escort of blue Grenadiers, Cannoneers, even - Officers of the Line, hurrahing and capering round it. They make a pause - opposite Sieur Resson’s door; wag their plumes at him; nay shake their - fists, bellowing <i>À bas les Jacobins!</i> but happily pass on without - onslaught. They pass on, to plant a <i>Mai</i> before the General’s door, - and bully considerably. All which the Sieur Resson cannot but report with - sorrow, that night, in the Mother Society.<a href="#linknote-475" - name="linknoteref-475" id="linknoteref-475">[475]</a> But what no Sieur - Resson nor Mother Society can do more than guess is this, That a council - of rank Feuillants, your unabolished Staff of the Guard and who else has - status and weight, is in these very moments privily deliberating at the - General’s: Can we not put down the Jacobins by force? Next day, a Review - shall be held, in the Tuileries Garden, of such as will turn out, and - try. Alas, says Toulongeon, hardly a hundred turned out. Put it off till - tomorrow, then, to give better warning. On the morrow, which is Saturday, - there turn out “some thirty;” and depart shrugging their shoulders!<a - href="#linknote-476" name="linknoteref-476" - id="linknoteref-476">[476]</a> Lafayette promptly takes carriage again; - returns musing on many things. - </p> - - <p> - The dust of Paris is hardly off his wheels, the summer Sunday is still - young, when Cordeliers in deputation pluck up that <i>Mai</i> of his: - before sunset, Patriots have burnt him in effigy. Louder doubt and louder - rises, in Section, in National Assembly, as to the legality of such - unbidden Anti-jacobin visit on the part of a General: doubt swelling and - spreading all over France, for six weeks or so: with endless talk about - usurping soldiers, about English Monk, nay about Cromwell: O thou pour - <i>Grandison</i>-Cromwell!—What boots it? King Louis himself looked - coldly on the enterprize: colossal Hero of two Worlds, having weighed - himself in the balance, finds that he is become a gossamer Colossus, only - some thirty turning out. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In a like sense, and with a like issue, works our Department-Directory - here at Paris; who, on the 6th of July, take upon them to suspend Mayor - Pétion and Procureur Manuel from all civic functions, for their conduct, - replete, as is alleged, with omissions and commissions, on that delicate - Twentieth of June. Virtuous Pétion sees himself a kind of martyr, or - pseudo-martyr, threatened with several things; drawls out due heroical - lamentation; to which Patriot Paris and Patriot Legislative duly respond. - King Louis and Mayor Pétion have already had an interview on that - business of the Twentieth; an interview and dialogue, distinguished by - frankness on both sides; ending on King Louis’s side with the words, - ‘<i>Taisez-vous</i>, Hold your peace.’ - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, this of suspending our Mayor does seem a mistimed measure. - By ill chance, it came out precisely on the day of that famous <i>Baiser - de l’amourette</i>, or miraculous reconciliatory Delilah-Kiss, which we - spoke of long ago. Which Delilah-Kiss was thereby quite hindered of - effect. For now his Majesty has to write, almost that same night, asking - a reconciled Assembly for advice! The reconciled Assembly will not - advise; will not interfere. The King confirms the suspension; then - perhaps, but not till then will the Assembly interfere, the noise of - Patriot Paris getting loud. Whereby your Delilah-Kiss, such was the - destiny of Parliament First, becomes a Philistine Battle! - </p> - - <p> - Nay there goes a word that as many as Thirty of our chief Patriot - Senators are to be clapped in prison, by mittimus and indictment of - Feuillant Justices, <i>Juges de Paix;</i> who here in Paris were well - capable of such a thing. It was but in May last that <i>Juge de Paix - Larivière</i>, on complaint of Bertrand-Moleville touching that - <i>Austrian Committee</i>, made bold to launch his mittimus against three - heads of the Mountain, Deputies Bazire, Chabot, Merlin, the Cordelier - Trio; summoning them to appear before <i>him</i>, and shew where that - Austrian Committee was, or else suffer the consequences. Which mittimus - the Trio, on their side, made bold to fling in the fire: and valiantly - pleaded privilege of Parliament. So that, for his zeal without knowledge, - poor Justice Larivière now sits in the prison of Orléans, waiting trial - from the <i>Haute Cour</i> there. Whose example, may it not deter other - rash Justices; and so this word of the Thirty arrestments continue a word - merely? - </p> - - <p> - But on the whole, though Lafayette weighed so light, and has had his - <i>Mai</i> plucked up, Official Feuillantism falters not a whit; but - carries its head high, strong in the letter of the Law. Feuillants all of - these men: a Feuillant Directory; founding on high character, and such - like; with Duke de la Rochefoucault for President,—a thing which - may prove dangerous for him! Dim now is the once bright Anglomania of - these admired Noblemen. Duke de Liancourt offers, out of Normandy where - he is Lord-Lieutenant, not only to receive his Majesty, thinking of - flight thither, but to lend him money to enormous amounts. Sire, it is - not a Revolt, it is a Revolution; and truly no rose-water one! Worthier - Noblemen were not in France nor in Europe than those two: but the Time is - crooked, quick-shifting, perverse; what straightest course will lead to - any goal, in <i>it?</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Another phasis which we note, in these early July days, is that of - certain thin streaks of Federate National Volunteers wending from various - points towards Paris, to hold a new Federation-Festival, or Feast of - Pikes, on the Fourteenth there. So has the National Assembly wished it, - so has the Nation willed it. In this way, perhaps, may we still have our - Patriot Camp in spite of <i>Veto</i>. For cannot these Fédérés, having - celebrated their Feast of Pikes, march on to Soissons; and, there being - drilled and regimented, rush to the Frontiers, or whither we like? Thus - were the one <i>Veto</i> cunningly eluded! - </p> - - <p> - As indeed the other <i>Veto</i>, about Priests, is also like to be - eluded; and without much cunning. For Provincial Assemblies, in Calvados - as one instance, are proceeding on their own strength to judge and banish - Antinational Priests. Or still worse without Provincial Assembly, a - desperate People, as at Bourdeaux, can “hang two of them on the - Lanterne,” on the way towards judgment.<a href="#linknote-477" - name="linknoteref-477" id="linknoteref-477">[477]</a> Pity for the spoken - <i>Veto</i>, when it cannot become an acted one! - </p> - - <p> - It is true, some ghost of a War-minister, or Home-minister, for the time - being, ghost whom we do not name, does write to Municipalities and King’s - Commanders, that they shall, by all conceivable methods, obstruct this - Federation, and even turn back the Fédérés by force of arms: a message - which scatters mere doubt, paralysis and confusion; irritates the poor - Legislature; reduces the Fédérés as we see, to thin streaks. But being - questioned, this ghost and the other ghosts, What it is then that they - propose to do for saving the country?—they answer, That they cannot - tell; that indeed they for their part have, this morning, resigned in a - body; and do now merely respectfully take leave of the helm altogether. - With which words they rapidly walk out of the Hall, <i>sortent - brusquement de la salle</i>, the “Galleries cheering loudly,” the poor - Legislature sitting “for a good while in silence!”<a href="#linknote-478" - name="linknoteref-478" id="linknoteref-478">[478]</a> Thus do - Cabinet-ministers themselves, in extreme cases, strike work; one of the - strangest omens. Other complete Cabinet-ministry there will not be; only - fragments, and these changeful, which never get completed; spectral - Apparitions that cannot so much as appear! King Louis writes that he now - views this Federation Feast with approval; and will himself have the - pleasure to take part in the same. - </p> - - <p> - And so these thin streaks of Fédérés wend Parisward through a paralytic - France. Thin grim streaks; not thick joyful ranks, as of old to the first - Feast of Pikes! No: these poor Federates march now towards Austria and - Austrian Committee, towards jeopardy and forlorn hope; men of hard - fortune and temper, not rich in the world’s goods. Municipalities, - paralyzed by War-ministers, are shy of affording cash: it may be, your - poor Federates cannot arm themselves, cannot march, till the - Daughter-Society of the place open her pocket, and subscribe. There will - not have arrived, at the set day, Three thousand of them in all. And yet, - thin and feeble as these streaks of Federates seem, they are the only - thing one discerns moving with any clearness of aim, in this strange - scene. Angry buzz and simmer; uneasy tossing and moaning of a huge - France, all enchanted, spell-bound by unmarching Constitution, into - frightful conscious and unconscious Magnetic-sleep; which frightful - Magnetic-sleep must now issue soon in one of two things: Death or - Madness! The Fédérés carry mostly in their pocket some earnest cry and - Petition, to have the “National Executive put in action;” or as a step - towards that, to have the King’s <i>Déchéance</i>, King’s Forfeiture, or - at least his Suspension, pronounced. They shall be welcome to the - Legislative, to the Mother of Patriotism; and Paris will provide for - their lodging. - </p> - - <p> - <i>Déchéance</i>, indeed: and, what next? A France spell-free, a - Revolution saved; and any thing, and all things next! so answer grimly - Danton and the unlimited Patriots, down deep in their subterranean region - of Plot, whither they have now dived. <i>Déchéance</i>, answers Brissot - with the limited: And if next the little Prince Royal were crowned, and - some Regency of Girondins and recalled Patriot Ministry set over him? - Alas, poor Brissot; looking, as indeed poor man does always, on the - nearest morrow as his peaceable promised land; deciding what must reach - to the world’s end, yet with an insight that reaches not beyond his own - nose! Wiser are the unlimited subterranean Patriots, who with light for - the hour itself, leave the rest to the gods. - </p> - - <p> - Or were it not, as we now stand, the probablest issue of all, that - Brunswick, in Coblentz, just gathering his huge limbs towards him to - rise, might arrive first; and stop both <i>Déchéance</i>, and theorizing - on it? Brunswick is on the eve of marching; with Eighty Thousand, they - say; fell Prussians, Hessians, feller Emigrants: a General of the Great - Frederick, with such an Army. And our Armies? And our Generals? As for - Lafayette, on whose late visit a Committee is sitting and all France is - jarring and censuring, he seems readier to fight <i>us</i> than fight - Brunswick. Lückner and Lafayette pretend to be interchanging corps, and - are making movements; which Patriotism cannot understand. This only is - very clear, that their corps go marching and shuttling, in the interior - of the country; much nearer Paris than formerly! Lückner has ordered - Dumouriez down to him, down from Maulde, and the Fortified Camp there. - Which order the many-counselled Dumouriez, with the Austrians hanging - close on him, he busy meanwhile training a few thousands to stand fire - and be soldiers, declares that, come of it what will, he cannot obey.<a - href="#linknote-479" name="linknoteref-479" - id="linknoteref-479">[479]</a> Will a poor Legislative, therefore, - sanction Dumouriez; who applies to it, “not knowing whether there is any - War-ministry?” Or sanction Lückner and these Lafayette movements? - </p> - - <p> - The poor Legislative knows not what to do. It decrees, however, that the - Staff of the Paris Guard, and indeed all such Staffs, for they are - Feuillants mostly, shall be broken and replaced. It decrees earnestly in - what manner one can declare that the <i>Country is in Danger</i>. And - finally, on the 11th of July, the morrow of that day when the Ministry - struck work, it decrees that <i>the Country be</i>, with all despatch, - <i>declared in Danger</i>. Whereupon let the King sanction; let the - Municipality take measures: if such Declaration will do service, - <i>it</i> need not fail. - </p> - - <p> - In Danger, truly, if ever Country was! Arise, O Country; or be trodden - down to ignominious ruin! Nay, are not the chances a hundred to one that - no rising of the Country will save it; Brunswick, the Emigrants, and - Feudal Europe drawing nigh? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0098" id="link2HCH0098"></a> - Chapter 2.6.II.<br/> - Let us march. - </h3> - - <p> - But to our minds the notablest of all these moving phenomena, is that of - Barbaroux’s “Six Hundred Marseillese who know how to die.” - </p> - - <p> - Prompt to the request of Barbaroux, the Marseilles Municipality has got - these men together: on the fifth morning of July, the Townhall says, - ‘<i>Marchez, abatez le Tyran</i>, March, strike down the Tyrant;’<a - href="#linknote-480" name="linknoteref-480" - id="linknoteref-480">[480]</a> and they, with grim appropriate - ‘<i>Marchons</i>,’ are marching. Long journey, doubtful errand; <i>Enfans - de la Patrie</i>, may a good genius guide you! Their own wild heart and - what faith it has will guide them: and is not that the monition of some - genius, better or worse? Five Hundred and Seventeen able men, with - Captains of fifties and tens; well armed all, musket on shoulder, sabre - on thigh: nay they drive three pieces of cannon; for who knows what - obstacles may occur? Municipalities there are, paralyzed by War-minister; - Commandants with orders to stop even Federation Volunteers; good, when - sound arguments will not open a Town-gate, if you have a petard to shiver - it! They have left their sunny Phocean City and Sea-haven, with its - bustle and its bloom: the thronging <i>Course</i>, with high-frondent - Avenues, pitchy dockyards, almond and olive groves, orange trees on - house-tops, and white glittering <i>bastides</i> that crown the hills, - are all behind them. They wend on their wild way, from the extremity of - French land, through unknown cities, toward an unknown destiny; with a - purpose that they know. - </p> - - <p> - Much wondering at this phenomenon, and how, in a peaceable trading City, - so many householders or hearth-holders do severally fling down their - crafts and industrial tools; gird themselves with weapons of war, and set - out on a journey of six hundred miles to “strike down the - tyrant,”—you search in all Historical Books, Pamphlets, and - Newspapers, for some light on it: unhappily without effect. Rumour and - Terror precede this march; which still echo on you; the march itself an - unknown thing. Weber, in the back-stairs of the Tuileries, has understood - that they were <i>Forçats</i>, Galley-slaves and mere scoundrels, these - Marseillese; that, as they marched through Lyons, the people shut their - shops;—also that the number of them was some Four <i>Thousand</i>. - Equally vague is Blanc Gilli, who likewise murmurs about <i>Forçats</i> - and danger of plunder.<a href="#linknote-481" name="linknoteref-481" - id="linknoteref-481">[481]</a> <i>Forçats</i> they were not; neither was - there plunder, or danger of it. Men of regular life, or of the - best-filled purse, they could hardly be; the one thing needful in them - was that they “knew how to die.” Friend Dampmartin saw them, with his own - eyes, march “gradually” through his quarters at Villefranche in the - Beaujolais: but saw in the vaguest manner; being indeed preoccupied, and - himself minded for matching just then—across the Rhine. Deep was - his astonishment to think of such a march, without appointment or - arrangement, station or ration: for the rest it was “the same men he had - seen formerly” in the troubles of the South; “perfectly civil;” though - his soldiers could not be kept from talking a little with them.<a - href="#linknote-482" name="linknoteref-482" - id="linknoteref-482">[482]</a> - </p> - - <p> - So vague are all these; <i>Moniteur, Histoire Parlementaire</i> are as - good as silent: garrulous History, as is too usual, will say nothing - where you most wish her to speak! If enlightened Curiosity ever get sight - of the Marseilles Council-Books, will it not perhaps explore this - strangest of Municipal procedures; and feel called to fish up what of the - Biographies, creditable or discreditable, of these Five Hundred and - Seventeen, the stream of Time has not yet irrevocably swallowed? - </p> - - <p> - As it is, these Marseillese remain inarticulate, undistinguishable in - feature; a blackbrowed Mass, full of grim fire, who wend there, in the - hot sultry weather: very singular to contemplate. They wend; amid the - infinitude of doubt and dim peril; they not doubtful: Fate and Feudal - Europe, having decided, come girdling in from without: they, having also - decided, do march within. Dusty of face, with frugal refreshment, they - plod onwards; unweariable, not to be turned aside. Such march will become - famous. The Thought, which works voiceless in this blackbrowed mass, an - inspired Tyrtæan Colonel, Rouget de Lille, whom the Earth still holds,<a - href="#linknote-483" name="linknoteref-483" - id="linknoteref-483">[483]</a> has translated into grim melody and - rhythm; into his <i>Hymn</i> or March <i>of the Marseillese:</i> luckiest - musical-composition ever promulgated. The sound of which will make the - blood tingle in men’s veins; and whole Armies and Assemblages will sing - it, with eyes weeping and burning, with hearts defiant of Death, Despot - and Devil. - </p> - - <p> - One sees well, these Marseillese will be too late for the Federation - Feast. In fact, it is not Champ-de-Mars Oaths that they have in view. - They have quite another feat to do: a paralytic National Executive to set - in action. They must “strike down” whatsoever “Tyrant,” or - Martyr-Fainéant, there may be who paralyzes it; strike and be struck; and - on the whole prosper and know how to die. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0099" id="link2HCH0099"></a> - Chapter 2.6.III.<br/> - Some Consolation to Mankind. - </h3> - - <p> - Of the Federation Feast itself we shall say almost nothing. There are - Tents pitched in the Champ-de-Mars; tent for National Assembly; tent for - Hereditary Representative,—who indeed is there too early, and has - to wait long in it. There are Eighty-three symbolical Departmental - Trees-of-Liberty; trees and <i>mais</i> enough: beautifullest of all - these is one huge <i>mai</i>, hung round with effete Scutcheons, - Emblazonries and Genealogy-books; nay better still, with Lawyers’-bags, - “<i>sacs de procédure:</i>” which shall be burnt. The Thirty seat-rows of - that famed Slope are again full; we have a bright Sun; and all is - marching, streamering and blaring: but what avails it? Virtuous Mayor - Pétion, whom Feuillantism had suspended, was reinstated only last night, - by Decree of the Assembly. Men’s humour is of the sourest. Men’s hats - have on them, written in chalk, “<i>Vive Pétion;</i>” and even, “Pétion - or Death, <i>Pétion ou la Mort</i>.” - </p> - - <p> - Poor Louis, who has waited till five o’clock before the Assembly would - arrive, swears the National Oath this time, with a quilted cuirass under - his waistcoat which will turn pistol-bullets.<a href="#linknote-484" - name="linknoteref-484" id="linknoteref-484">[484]</a> Madame de Staël, - from that Royal Tent, stretches out the neck in a kind of agony, lest the - waving multitudes which receive him may not render him back alive. No cry - of <i>Vive le Roi</i> salutes the ear; cries only of <i>Vive Pétion; - Pétion ou la Mort</i>. The National Solemnity is as it were huddled by; - each cowering off almost before the evolutions are gone through. The very - <i>Mai</i> with its Scutcheons and Lawyers’-bags is forgotten, stands - unburnt; till “certain Patriot Deputies,” called by the people, set a - torch to it, by way of voluntary after-piece. Sadder Feast of Pikes no - man ever saw. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Mayor Pétion, named on hats, is at his zenith in this Federation; - Lafayette again is close upon his nadir. Why does the stormbell of - Saint-Roch speak out, next Saturday; why do the citizens shut their - shops?<a href="#linknote-485" name="linknoteref-485" - id="linknoteref-485">[485]</a> It is Sections defiling, it is fear of - effervescence. Legislative Committee, long deliberating on Lafayette and - that Anti-jacobin Visit of his, reports, this day, that there is - “<i>not</i> ground for Accusation!” Peace, ye Patriots, nevertheless; and - let that tocsin cease: the Debate is not finished, nor the Report - accepted; but Brissot, Isnard and the Mountain will sift it, and resift - it, perhaps for some three weeks longer. - </p> - - <p> - So many bells, stormbells and noises do ring;—scarcely audible; one - drowning the other. For example: in this same Lafayette tocsin, of - Saturday, was there not withal some faint bob-minor, and Deputation of - Legislative, ringing the Chevalier Paul Jones to his long rest; tocsin or - dirge now all one to him! Not ten days hence Patriot Brissot, beshouted - this day by the Patriot Galleries, shall find himself begroaned by them, - on account of his limited Patriotism; nay pelted at while perorating, and - “hit with two prunes.”<a href="#linknote-486" name="linknoteref-486" - id="linknoteref-486">[486]</a> It is a distracted empty-sounding world; - of bob-minors and bob-majors, of triumph and terror, of rise and fall! - </p> - - <p> - The more touching is this other Solemnity, which happens on the morrow of - the Lafayette tocsin: Proclamation that the <i>Country is in Danger</i>. - Not till the present Sunday could such Solemnity be. The Legislative - decreed it almost a fortnight ago; but Royalty and the ghost of a - Ministry held back as they could. Now however, on this Sunday, 22nd day - of July 1792, it will hold back no longer; and the Solemnity in very deed - is. Touching to behold! Municipality and Mayor have on their scarfs; - cannon-salvo booms alarm from the Pont-Neuf, and single-gun at intervals - all day. Guards are mounted, scarfed Notabilities, Halberdiers, and a - Cavalcade; with streamers, emblematic flags; especially with one huge - Flag, flapping mournfully: <i>Citoyens, la Patrie est en Danger</i>. They - roll through the streets, with stern-sounding music, and slow rattle of - hoofs: pausing at set stations, and with doleful blast of trumpet, - singing out through Herald’s throat, what the Flag says to the eye: - ‘Citizens, the Country is in Danger!’ - </p> - - <p> - Is there a man’s heart that hears it without a thrill? The many-voiced - responsive hum or bellow of these multitudes is not of triumph; and yet - it is a sound deeper than triumph. But when the long Cavalcade and - Proclamation ended; and our huge Flag was fixed on the Pont Neuf, another - like it on the Hôtel-de-Ville, to wave there till better days; and each - Municipal sat in the centre of his Section, in a Tent raised in some open - square, Tent surmounted with flags of <i>Patrie en Danger</i>, and - topmost of all a Pike and <i>Bonnet Rouge;</i> and, on two drums in front - of him, there lay a plank-table, and on this an open Book, and a Clerk - sat, like recording-angel, ready to write the Lists, or as we say to - enlist! O, then, it seems, the very gods might have looked down on it. - Young Patriotism, Culottic and Sansculottic, rushes forward emulous: That - is my name; name, blood, and life, is all my Country’s; why have I - nothing more! Youths of short stature weep that they are below size. Old - men come forward, a son in each hand. Mothers themselves will grant the - son of their travail; send him, though with tears. And the multitude - bellows <i>Vive la Patrie</i>, far reverberating. And fire flashes in the - eyes of men;—and at eventide, your Municipal returns to the - Townhall, followed by his long train of volunteer Valour; hands in his - List: says proudly, looking round. This is my day’s harvest.<a - href="#linknote-487" name="linknoteref-487" - id="linknoteref-487">[487]</a> They will march, on the morrow, to - Soissons; small bundle holding all their chattels. - </p> - - <p> - So, with <i>Vive la Patrie, Vive la Liberté</i>, stone Paris reverberates - like Ocean in his caves; day after day, Municipals enlisting in tricolor - Tent; the Flag flapping on Pont Neuf and Townhall, <i>Citoyens, la Patrie - est en Danger</i>. Some Ten thousand fighters, without discipline but - full of heart, are on march in few days. The like is doing in every Town - of France.—Consider therefore whether the Country will want - defenders, had we but a National Executive? Let the Sections and Primary - Assemblies, at any rate, become Permanent, and sit continually in Paris, - and over France, by Legislative Decree dated Wednesday the 25th.<a - href="#linknote-488" name="linknoteref-488" - id="linknoteref-488">[488]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Mark contrariwise how, in these very hours, dated the 25th, Brunswick - shakes himself “<i>s’ébranle</i>,” in Coblentz; and takes the road! - Shakes himself indeed; one spoken word becomes such a shaking. - Successive, simultaneous <i>dirl</i> of thirty thousand muskets - shouldered; prance and jingle of ten-thousand horsemen, fanfaronading - Emigrants in the van; drum, kettle-drum; noise of weeping, swearing; and - the immeasurable lumbering clank of baggage-waggons and camp-kettles that - groan into motion: all this is Brunswick shaking himself; not without all - this does the one man march, “covering a space of forty miles.” Still - less without his Manifesto, dated, as we say, the 25th; a State-Paper - worthy of attention! - </p> - - <p> - By this Document, it would seem great things are in store for France. The - universal French People shall now have permission to rally round - Brunswick and his Emigrant Seigneurs; tyranny of a Jacobin Faction shall - oppress them no more; but they shall return, and find favour with their - own good King; who, by Royal Declaration (three years ago) of the - Twenty-third of June, said that he would himself make them happy. As for - National Assembly, and other Bodies of Men invested with some temporary - shadow of authority, they are charged to maintain the King’s Cities and - Strong Places intact, till Brunswick arrive to take delivery of them. - Indeed, quick submission may extenuate many things; but to this end it - must be quick. Any National Guard or other unmilitary person found - resisting in arms shall be “treated as a traitor;” that is to say, hanged - with promptitude. For the rest, if Paris, before Brunswick gets thither, - offer any insult to the King: or, for example, suffer a faction to carry - the King away elsewhither; in that case Paris shall be blasted asunder - with cannon-shot and “military execution.” Likewise all other Cities, - which may witness, and not resist to the uttermost, such forced-march of - his Majesty, shall be blasted asunder; and Paris and every City of them, - starting-place, course and goal of said sacrilegious forced-march, shall, - as rubbish and smoking ruin, lie there for a sign. Such vengeance were - indeed signal, “an <i>insigne vengeance:</i>”—O Brunswick, what - words thou writest and blusterest! In this Paris, as in old Nineveh, are - so many score thousands that know not the right hand from the left, and - also much cattle. Shall the very milk-cows, hard-living cadgers’-asses, - and poor little canary-birds die? - </p> - - <p> - Nor is Royal and Imperial Prussian-Austrian Declaration wanting: setting - forth, in the amplest manner, their Sanssouci-Schonbrunn version of this - whole French Revolution, since the first beginning of it; and with what - grief these high heads have seen such things done under the Sun: however, - “as some small consolation to mankind,”<a href="#linknote-489" - name="linknoteref-489" id="linknoteref-489">[489]</a> they do now - despatch Brunswick; regardless of expense, as one might say, of - sacrifices on their own part; for is it not the first duty to console - men? - </p> - - <p> - Serene Highnesses, who sit there protocolling and manifestoing, and - consoling mankind! how were it if, for once in the thousand years, your - parchments, formularies, and reasons of state were blown to the four - winds; and Reality Sans-indispensables stared you, even you, in the face; - and Mankind said for itself what the thing was that would console - it?— - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0100" id="link2HCH0100"></a> - Chapter 2.6.IV.<br/> - Subterranean. - </h3> - - <p> - But judge if there was comfort in this to the Sections all sitting - permanent; deliberating how a National Executive could be put in action! - </p> - - <p> - High rises the response, not of cackling terror, but of crowing - counter-defiance, and <i>Vive la Nation;</i> young Valour streaming - towards the Frontiers; <i>Patrie en Danger</i> mutely beckoning on the - Pont Neuf. Sections are busy, in their permanent Deep; and down, lower - still, works unlimited Patriotism, seeking salvation in plot. - Insurrection, you would say, becomes once more the sacredest of duties? - Committee, self-chosen, is sitting at the Sign of the Golden Sun: - Journalist Carra, Camille Desmoulins, Alsatian Westermann friend of - Danton, American Fournier of Martinique;—a Committee not unknown to - Mayor Pétion, who, as an official person, must sleep with one eye open. - Not unknown to Procureur Manuel; least of all to Procureur-Substitute - Danton! He, wrapped in darkness, being also official, bears it on his - giant shoulder; cloudy invisible Atlas of the whole. - </p> - - <p> - Much is invisible; the very Jacobins have their reticences. Insurrection - is to be: but when? This only we can discern, that such Fédérés as are - not yet gone to Soissons, as indeed are not inclined to go yet, ‘for - reasons,’ says the Jacobin President, ‘which it may be interesting not to - state,’ have got a <i>Central Committee</i> sitting close by, under the - roof of the Mother Society herself. Also, what in such ferment and danger - of effervescence is surely proper, the Forty-eight Sections have got - their Central Committee; intended “for prompt communication.” To which - Central Committee the Municipality, anxious to have it at hand, could not - refuse an Apartment in the Hôtel-de-Ville. - </p> - - <p> - Singular City! For overhead of all this, there is the customary baking - and brewing; Labour hammers and grinds. Frilled promenaders saunter under - the trees; white-muslin promenaderess, in green parasol, leaning on your - arm. Dogs dance, and shoeblacks polish, on that Pont Neuf itself, where - Fatherland is in danger. So much goes its course; and yet the course of - all things is nigh altering and ending. - </p> - - <p> - Look at that Tuileries and Tuileries Garden. Silent all as Sahara; none - entering save by ticket! They shut their Gates, after the Day of the - Black Breeches; a thing they had the liberty to do. However, the National - Assembly grumbled something about Terrace of the Feuillants, how said - Terrace lay contiguous to the back entrance to their Salle, and was - partly <i>National Property;</i> and so now National Justice has - stretched a Tricolor Riband athwart, by way of boundary-line, respected - with splenetic strictness by all Patriots. It hangs there that Tricolor - boundary-line; carries “satirical inscriptions on cards,” generally in - verse; and all beyond this is called <i>Coblentz</i>, and remains vacant; - silent, as a fateful Golgotha; sunshine and umbrage alternating on it in - vain. Fateful Circuit; what hope can dwell in it? Mysterious Tickets of - Entry introduce themselves; speak of Insurrection very imminent. - Rivarol’s Staff of Genius had better purchase blunderbusses; Grenadier - bonnets, red Swiss uniforms may be useful. Insurrection will come; but - likewise will it not be met? Staved off, one may hope, till Brunswick - arrive? - </p> - - <p> - But consider withal if the Bourne-stones and Portable chairs remain - silent; if the Herald’s College of Bill-Stickers sleep! Louvet’s - <i>Sentinel</i> warns gratis on all walls; Sulleau is busy: - <i>People’s-Friend</i> Marat and <i>King’s-Friend</i> Royou croak and - counter-croak. For the man Marat, though long hidden since that - Champ-de-Mars Massacre, is still alive. He has lain, who knows in what - Cellars; perhaps in Legendre’s; fed by a steak of Legendre’s killing: - but, since April, the bull-frog voice of him sounds again; hoarsest of - earthly cries. For the present, black terror haunts him: O brave - Barbaroux wilt thou not smuggle me to Marseilles, “disguised as a - jockey?”<a href="#linknote-490" name="linknoteref-490" - id="linknoteref-490">[490]</a> In Palais-Royal and all public places, as - we read, there is sharp activity; private individuals haranguing that - Valour may enlist; haranguing that the Executive may be put in action. - Royalist journals ought to be solemnly burnt: argument thereupon; debates - which generally end in single-stick, <i>coups de cannes</i>.<a - href="#linknote-491" name="linknoteref-491" - id="linknoteref-491">[491]</a> Or think of this; the hour midnight; place - Salle de Manége; august Assembly just adjourning: “Citizens of both sexes - enter in a rush exclaiming, <i>Vengeance: they are poisoning our - Brothers;</i>”—baking brayed-glass among their bread at Soissons! - Vergniaud has to speak soothing words, How Commissioners are already sent - to investigate this brayed-glass, and do what is needful therein: till - the rush of Citizens “makes profound silence:” and goes home to its bed. - </p> - - <p> - Such is Paris; the heart of a France like to it. Preternatural suspicion, - doubt, disquietude, nameless anticipation, from shore to shore:—and - those blackbrowed Marseillese, marching, dusty, unwearied, through the - midst of it; not doubtful they. Marching to the grim music of their - hearts, they consume continually the long road, these three weeks and - more; heralded by Terror and Rumour. The Brest Fédérés arrive on the - 26th; through hurrahing streets. Determined men are these also, bearing - or not bearing the Sacred Pikes of Château-Vieux; and on the whole - decidedly disinclined for Soissons as yet. Surely the Marseillese - Brethren do draw nigher all days. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0101" id="link2HCH0101"></a> - Chapter 2.6.V.<br/> - At Dinner. - </h3> - - <p> - It was a bright day for Charenton, that 29th of the month, when the - Marseillese Brethren actually came in sight. Barbaroux, Santerre and - Patriots have gone out to meet the grim Wayfarers. Patriot clasps dusty - Patriot to his bosom; there is footwashing and refection: “dinner of - twelve hundred covers at the Blue Dial, <i>Cadran Bleu;</i>” and deep - interior consultation, that one wots not of.<a href="#linknote-492" - name="linknoteref-492" id="linknoteref-492">[492]</a> Consultation indeed - which comes to little; for Santerre, with an open purse, with a loud - voice, has almost no head. Here however we repose this night: on the - morrow is public entry into Paris. - </p> - - <p> - On which public entry the Day-Historians, <i>Diurnalists</i>, or - Journalists as they call themselves, have preserved record enough. How - Saint-Antoine male and female, and Paris generally, gave brotherly - welcome, with bravo and hand-clapping, in crowded streets; and all passed - in the peaceablest manner;—except it might be our Marseillese - pointed out here and there a riband-cockade, and beckoned that it should - be snatched away, and exchanged for a wool one; which was done. How the - Mother Society in a body has come as far as the Bastille-ground, to - embrace you. How you then wend onwards, triumphant, to the Townhall, to - be embraced by Mayor Pétion; to put down your muskets in the Barracks of - Nouvelle France, not far off;—then towards the appointed Tavern in - the Champs Elysées to enjoy a frugal Patriot repast.<a - href="#linknote-493" name="linknoteref-493" - id="linknoteref-493">[493]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Of all which the indignant Tuileries may, by its Tickets of Entry, have - warning. Red Swiss look doubly sharp to their - Château-Grates;—though surely there is no danger? Blue Grenadiers - of the Filles-Saint-Thomas Section are on duty there this day: men of - Agio, as we have seen; with stuffed purses, riband-cockades; among whom - serves Weber. A party of these latter, with Captains, with sundry - Feuillant Notabilities, Moreau de Saint-Méry of the three thousand - orders, and others, have been dining, much more respectably, in a Tavern - hard by. They have dined, and are now drinking Loyal-Patriotic toasts; - while the Marseillese, <i>National</i>-Patriotic merely, are about - sitting down to their frugal covers of delf. How it happened remains to - this day undemonstrable: but the external fact is, certain of these - Filles-Saint-Thomas Grenadiers do issue from their Tavern; perhaps - touched, surely not yet muddled with any liquor they have - had;—issue in the professed intention of testifying to the - Marseillese, or to the multitude of Paris Patriots who stroll in these - spaces, That they, the Filles-Saint-Thomas men, if well seen into, are - not a whit less Patriotic than any other class of men whatever. - </p> - - <p> - It was a rash errand! For how can the strolling multitudes credit such a - thing; or do other indeed than hoot at it, provoking, and - provoked;—till Grenadier sabres stir in the scabbard, and a sharp - shriek rises: ‘<i>À nous Marseillais</i>, Help Marseillese!’ Quick as - lightning, for the frugal repast is not yet served, that Marseillese - Tavern flings itself open: by door, by window; running, bounding, vault - forth the Five hundred and Seventeen undined Patriots; and, sabre - flashing from thigh, are on the scene of controversy. Will ye parley, ye - Grenadier Captains and official Persons; “with faces grown suddenly - pale,” the Deponents say?<a href="#linknote-494" name="linknoteref-494" - id="linknoteref-494">[494]</a> Advisabler were instant moderately swift - retreat! The Filles-Saint-Thomas retreat, back foremost; then, alas, face - foremost, at treble-quick time; the Marseillese, according to a Deponent, - ‘clearing the fences and ditches after them like lions: Messieurs, it was - an imposing spectacle.’ - </p> - - <p> - Thus they retreat, the Marseillese following. Swift and swifter, towards - the Tuileries: where the Drawbridge receives the bulk of the fugitives; - and, then suddenly drawn up, saves them; or else the green mud of the - Ditch does it. The bulk of them; not all; ah, no! Moreau de Saint-Méry - for example, being too fat, could not fly fast; he got a stroke, - <i>flat</i>-stroke only, over the shoulder-blades, and fell - prone;—and disappears there from the History of the Revolution. - Cuts also there were, pricks in the posterior fleshy parts; much rending - of skirts, and other discrepant waste. But poor Sub-lieutenant Duhamel, - innocent Change-broker, what a lot for him! He turned on his pursuer, or - pursuers, with a pistol; he fired and missed; drew a second pistol, and - again fired and missed; then ran: unhappily in vain. In the Rue - Saint-Florentin, they clutched him; thrust him through, in red rage: that - was the end of the New Era, and of all Eras, to poor Duhamel. - </p> - - <p> - Pacific readers can fancy what sort of grace-before-meat this was to - frugal Patriotism. Also how the Battalion of the Filles-Saint-Thomas - “drew out in arms,” luckily without further result; how there was - accusation at the Bar of the Assembly, and counter-accusation and - defence; Marseillese challenging the sentence of free jury - court,—which never got to a decision. We ask rather, What the - upshot of all these distracted wildly accumulating things may, by - probability, be? Some upshot; and the time draws nigh! Busy are Central - Committees, of Fédérés at the Jacobins Church, of Sections at the - Townhall; Reunion of Carra, Camille and Company at the Golden Sun. Busy: - like submarine deities, or call them mud-gods, working there in the deep - murk of waters: till the thing be ready. - </p> - - <p> - And how your National Assembly, like a ship waterlogged, helmless, lies - tumbling; the Galleries, of shrill Women, of Fédérés with sabres, - bellowing down on it, not unfrightful;—and waits where the waves of - chance may please to strand it; suspicious, nay on the Left side, - conscious, what submarine Explosion is meanwhile a-charging! Petition for - King’s Forfeiture rises often there: Petition from Paris Section, from - Provincial Patriot Towns; From Alencon, Briancon, and “the Traders at the - Fair of Beaucaire.” Or what of these? On the 3rd of August, Mayor Pétion - and the Municipality come petitioning for Forfeiture: they openly, in - their tricolor Municipal scarfs. Forfeiture is what all Patriots now want - and expect. All Brissotins want Forfeiture; with the little Prince Royal - for King, and us for Protector over him. Emphatic Fédérés asks the - legislature: ‘Can you save us, or not?’ Forty-seven Sections have agreed - to Forfeiture; only that of the Filles-Saint-Thomas pretending to - disagree. Nay Section Mauconseil declares Forfeiture to be, properly - speaking, come; Mauconseil for one “does from this day,” the last of - July, “cease allegiance to Louis,” and take minute of the same before all - men. A thing blamed aloud; but which will be praised aloud; and the name - <i>Mauconseil</i>, of Ill-counsel, be thenceforth changed to - <i>Bonconseil</i>, of Good-counsel. - </p> - - <p> - President Danton, in the Cordeliers Section, does another thing: invites - all Passive Citizens to take place among the Active in Section-business, - one peril threatening all. Thus he, though an official person; cloudy - Atlas of the whole. Likewise he manages to have that blackbrowed - Battalion of Marseillese shifted to new Barracks, in his own region of - the remote South-East. Sleek Chaumette, cruel Billaud, Deputy Chabot the - Disfrocked, Huguenin with the tocsin in his heart, will welcome them - there. Wherefore, again and again: ‘O Legislators, can you save us or - not?’ Poor Legislators; with their Legislature waterlogged, volcanic - Explosion charging under it! Forfeiture shall be debated on the ninth day - of August; that miserable business of Lafayette may be expected to - terminate on the eighth. - </p> - - <p> - Or will the humane Reader glance into the Levee-day of Sunday the fifth? - The last Levee! Not for a long time, “never,” says Bertrand-Moleville, - had a Levee been so brilliant, at least so crowded. A sad presaging - interest sat on every face; Bertrand’s own eyes were filled with tears. - For, indeed, outside of that Tricolor Riband on the Feuillants Terrace, - Legislature is debating, Sections are defiling, all Paris is astir this - very Sunday, demanding <i>Déchéance</i>.<a href="#linknote-495" - name="linknoteref-495" id="linknoteref-495">[495]</a> Here, however, - within the riband, a grand proposal is on foot, for the hundredth time, - of carrying his Majesty to Rouen and the Castle of Gaillon. Swiss at - Courbevoye are in readiness; much is ready; Majesty himself seems almost - ready. Nevertheless, for the hundredth time, Majesty, when near the point - of action, draws back; writes, after one has waited, palpitating, an - endless summer day, that “he has reason to believe the Insurrection is - not so ripe as you suppose.” Whereat Bertrand-Moleville breaks forth - “into extremity at one of spleen and despair, <i>d’humeur et de - désespoir</i>.”<a href="#linknote-496" name="linknoteref-496" - id="linknoteref-496">[496]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0102" id="link2HCH0102"></a> - Chapter 2.6.VI.<br/> - The Steeples at Midnight. - </h3> - - <p> - For, in truth, the Insurrection is just about ripe. Thursday is the ninth - of the month August: if Forfeiture be not pronounced by the Legislature - that day, we must pronounce it ourselves. - </p> - - <p> - Legislature? A poor waterlogged Legislature can pronounce nothing. On - Wednesday the eighth, after endless oratory once again, they cannot even - pronounce Accusation again Lafayette; but absolve him,—hear it, - Patriotism!—by a majority of two to one. Patriotism hears it; - Patriotism, hounded on by Prussian Terror, by Preternatural Suspicion, - roars tumultuous round the Salle de Manége, all day; insults many leading - Deputies, of the absolvent Right-side; nay chases them, collars them with - loud menace: Deputy Vaublanc, and others of the like, are glad to take - refuge in Guardhouses, and escape by the back window. And so, next day, - there is infinite complaint; Letter after Letter from insulted Deputy; - mere complaint, debate and self-cancelling jargon: the sun of Thursday - sets like the others, and no Forfeiture pronounced. Wherefore in fine, To - your tents, O Israel! - </p> - - <p> - The Mother-Society ceases speaking; groups cease haranguing: Patriots, - with closed lips now, “take one another’s arm;” walk off, in rows, two - and two, at a brisk business-pace; and vanish afar in the obscure places - of the East.<a href="#linknote-497" name="linknoteref-497" - id="linknoteref-497">[497]</a> Santerre is ready; or we will make him - ready. Forty-seven of the Forty-eight Sections are ready; nay - Filles-Saint-Thomas itself turns up the Jacobin side of it, turns down - the Feuillant side of it, and is ready too. Let the unlimited Patriot - look to his weapon, be it pike, be it firelock; and the Brest brethren, - above all, the blackbrowed Marseillese prepare themselves for the extreme - hour! Syndic Rœderer knows, and laments or not as the issue may turn, - that “five thousand ball-cartridges, within these few days, have been - distributed to Fédérés, at the Hôtel-de-Ville.”<a href="#linknote-498" - name="linknoteref-498" id="linknoteref-498">[498]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And ye likewise, gallant gentlemen, defenders of Royalty, crowd ye on - your side to the Tuileries. Not to a Levee: no, to a Couchée: where much - will be put to bed. Your Tickets of Entry are needful; needfuller your - blunderbusses!—They come and crowd, like gallant men who also know - how to die: old Maillé the Camp-Marshal has come, his eyes gleaming once - again, though dimmed by the rheum of almost four-score years. Courage, - Brothers! We have a thousand red Swiss; men stanch of heart, steadfast as - the granite of their Alps. National Grenadiers are at least friends of - Order; Commandant Mandat breathes loyal ardour, will ‘answer for it on - his head.’ Mandat will, and his Staff; for the Staff, though there stands - a doom and Decree to that effect, is happily never yet dissolved. - </p> - - <p> - Commandant Mandat has corresponded with Mayor Pétion; carries a written - Order from him these three days, to repel force by force. A squadron on - the Pont Neuf with cannon shall turn back these Marseillese coming across - the River: a squadron at the Townhall shall cut Saint-Antoine in two, “as - it issues from the Arcade Saint-Jean;” drive one half back to the obscure - East, drive the other half forward through “the Wickets of the Louvre.” - Squadrons not a few, and mounted squadrons; squadrons in the Palais - Royal, in the Place Vendôme: all these shall charge, at the right moment; - sweep this street, and then sweep that. Some new Twentieth of June we - shall have; only still more ineffectual? Or probably the Insurrection - will not dare to rise at all? Mandat’s Squadrons, Horse-Gendarmerie and - blue Guards march, clattering, tramping; Mandat’s Cannoneers rumble. - Under cloud of night; to the sound of his <i>générale</i>, which begins - drumming when men should go to bed. It is the 9th night of August, 1792. - </p> - - <p> - On the other hand, the Forty-eight Sections correspond by swift - messengers; are choosing each their “three Delegates with full powers.” - Syndic Rœderer, Mayor Pétion are sent for to the Tuileries: courageous - Legislators, when the drum beats danger, should repair to their Salle. - Demoiselle Théroigne has on her grenadier-bonnet, short-skirted - riding-habit; two pistols garnish her small waist, and sabre hangs in - baldric by her side. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Such a game is playing in this Paris Pandemonium, or City of All the - Devils!—And yet the Night, as Mayor Pétion walks here in the - Tuileries Garden, “is beautiful and calm;” Orion and the Pleiades glitter - down quite serene. Pétion has come forth, the “heat” inside was so - oppressive.<a href="#linknote-499" name="linknoteref-499" - id="linknoteref-499">[499]</a> Indeed, his Majesty’s reception of him was - of the roughest; as it well might be. And now there is no outgate; - Mandat’s blue Squadrons turn you back at every Grate; nay the - Filles-Saint-Thomas Grenadiers give themselves liberties of tongue, How a - virtuous Mayor “shall pay for it, if there be mischief,” and the like; - though others again are full of civility. Surely if any man in France is - in straights this night, it is Mayor Pétion: bound, under pain of death, - one may say, to smile dexterously with the one side of his face, and weep - with the other;—death if he do it not dexterously enough! Not till - four in the morning does a National Assembly, hearing of his plight, - summon him over “to give account of Paris;” of which he knows nothing: - whereby however he shall get home to bed, and only his gilt coach be - left. Scarcely less delicate is Syndic Rœderer’s task; who must wait - whether he will lament or not, till he see the issue. Janus Bifrons, or - <i>Mr. Facing-both-ways</i>, as vernacular Bunyan has it! They walk - there, in the meanwhile, these two Januses, with others of the like - double conformation; and “talk of indifferent matters.” - </p> - - <p> - Rœderer, from time to time, steps in; to listen, to speak; to send for - the Department-Directory itself, he their Procureur Syndic not seeing how - to act. The Apartments are all crowded; some seven hundred gentlemen in - black elbowing, bustling; red Swiss standing like rocks; ghost, or - partial-ghost of a Ministry, with Rœderer and advisers, hovering round - their Majesties; old Marshall Maillé kneeling at the King’s feet, to say, - He and these gallant gentlemen are come to die for him. List! through the - placid midnight; clang of the distant stormbell! So, in very sooth; - steeple after steeple takes up the wondrous tale. Black Courtiers listen - at the windows, opened for air; discriminate the steeple-bells:<a - href="#linknote-500" name="linknoteref-500" - id="linknoteref-500">[500]</a> this is the tocsin of Saint-Roch; that - again, is it not Saint-Jacques, named <i>de la Boucherie?</i> Yes, - Messieurs! Or even Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois, hear ye <i>it</i> not? The - same metal that rang storm, two hundred and twenty years ago; but by a - Majesty’s order then; on Saint-Bartholomew’s Eve<a href="#linknote-501" - name="linknoteref-501" id="linknoteref-501">[501]</a>—So go the - steeple-bells; which Courtiers can discriminate. Nay, meseems, there is - the Townhall itself; we know it by its sound! Yes, Friends, that is the - Townhall; discoursing <i>so</i>, to the Night. Miraculously; by - miraculous metal-tongue and man’s arm: Marat himself, if you knew it, is - pulling at the rope there! Marat is pulling; Robespierre lies deep, - invisible for the next forty hours; and some men have heart, and some - have as good as none, and not even frenzy will give them any. - </p> - - <p> - What struggling confusion, as the issue slowly draws on; and the doubtful - Hour, with pain and blind struggle, brings forth its Certainty, never to - be abolished!—The Full-power Delegates, three from each Section, a - Hundred and forty-four in all, got gathered at the Townhall, about - midnight. Mandat’s Squadron, stationed there, did not hinder their - entering: are they not the “Central Committee of the Sections” who sit - here usually; though in greater number tonight? They are there: presided - by Confusion, Irresolution, and the Clack of Tongues. Swift scouts fly; - Rumour buzzes, of black Courtiers, red Swiss, of Mandat and his Squadrons - that shall charge. Better put off the Insurrection? Yes, put it off. Ha, - hark! Saint-Antoine booming out eloquent tocsin, of its own - accord!—Friends, no: ye cannot put off the Insurrection; but must - put it on, and live with it, or die with it. - </p> - - <p> - Swift now, therefore: let these actual Old Municipals, on sight of the - Full-powers, and mandate of the Sovereign elective People, lay down their - functions; and this New Hundred and forty-four take them up! Will ye nill - ye, worthy Old Municipals, go ye must. Nay is it not a happiness for many - a Municipal that he can wash his hands of such a business; and sit there - paralyzed, unaccountable, till the Hour do bring forth; or even go home - to his night’s rest?<a href="#linknote-502" name="linknoteref-502" - id="linknoteref-502">[502]</a> Two only of the Old, or at most three, we - retain Mayor Pétion, for the present walking in the Tuileries; Procureur - Manuel; Procureur Substitute Danton, invisible Atlas of the whole. And - so, with our Hundred and forty-four, among whom are a Tocsin-Huguenin, a - Billaud, a Chaumette; and Editor-Talliens, and Fabre d’Eglantines, - Sergents, Panises; and in brief, either emergent, or else emerged and - full-blown, the entire Flower of unlimited Patriotism: have we not, as by - magic, made a New Municipality; ready to act in the unlimited manner; and - declare itself roundly, “in a State of Insurrection!”—First of all, - then, be Commandant Mandat sent for, with that Mayor’s-Order of his; also - let the New Municipals visit those Squadrons that were to charge; and let - the stormbell ring its loudest;—and, on the whole, Forward, ye - Hundred and forty-four; retreat is now none for you! - </p> - - <p> - Reader, fancy not, in thy languid way, that Insurrection is easy. - Insurrection is difficult: each individual uncertain even of his next - neighbour; totally uncertain of his distant neighbours, what strength is - with him, what strength is against him; certain only that, in case of - failure, his individual portion is the gallows! Eight hundred thousand - heads, and in each of them a separate estimate of these uncertainties, a - separate theorem of action conformable to that: out of so many - uncertainties, does the certainty, and inevitable net-result never to be - abolished, go on, at all moments, bodying itself forth;—leading - thee also towards civic-crowns or an ignominious noose. - </p> - - <p> - Could the Reader take an Asmodeus’s Flight, and waving open all roofs and - privacies, look down from the Tower of Notre Dame, what a Paris were it! - Of treble-voice whimperings or vehemence, of bass-voice growlings, - dubitations; Courage screwing itself to desperate defiance; Cowardice - trembling silent within barred doors;—and all round, Dulness calmly - snoring; for much Dulness, flung on its mattresses, always sleeps. O, - between the clangour of these high-storming tocsins and that snore of - Dulness, what a gamut: of trepidation, excitation, desperation; and above - it mere Doubt, Danger, Atropos and Nox! - </p> - - <p> - Fighters of this section draw out; hear that the next Section does not; - and thereupon draw in. Saint-Antoine, on this side the River, is - uncertain of Saint-Marceau on that. Steady only is the snore of Dulness, - are the Six Hundred Marseillese that know how to die! Mandat, twice - summoned to the Townhall, has not come. Scouts fly incessant, in - distracted haste; and the many-whispering voices of Rumour. Théroigne and - unofficial Patriots flit, dim-visible, exploratory, far and wide; like - Night-birds on the wing. Of Nationals some Three thousand have followed - Mandat and his <i>générale;</i> the rest follow each his own theorem of - the uncertainties: theorem, that one should march rather with - Saint-Antoine; innumerable theorems, that in such a case the wholesomest - were <i>sleep</i>. And so the drums beat, in made fits, and the - stormbells peal. Saint-Antoine itself does but draw out and draw in; - Commandant Santerre, over there, cannot believe that the Marseillese and - Saint Marceau will march. Thou laggard sonorous Beer-vat, with the loud - voice and timber head, is it time now to palter? Alsatian Westermann - clutches him by the throat with drawn sabre: whereupon the Timber-headed - believes. In this manner wanes the slow night; amid fret, uncertainty and - tocsin; all men’s humour rising to the hysterical pitch; and nothing - done. - </p> - - <p> - However, Mandat, on the third summons does come;—come, unguarded; - astonished to find the Municipality <i>new</i>. They question him - straitly on that Mayor’s-Order to resist force by force; on that - strategic scheme of cutting Saint-Antoine in two halves: he answers what - he can: they think it were right to send this strategic National - Commandant to the Abbaye Prison, and let a Court of Law decide on him. - Alas, a Court of Law, not Book-Law but primeval Club-Law, crowds and - jostles out of doors; all fretted to the hysterical pitch; cruel as Fear, - blind as the Night: such Court of Law, and no other, clutches poor Mandat - from his constables; beats him down, massacres him, on the steps of the - Townhall. Look to it, ye new Municipals; ye People, in a state of - Insurrection! Blood is shed, blood must be answered for;—alas, in - such hysterical humour, more blood will flow: for it is as with the Tiger - in that; he has only to begin. - </p> - - <p> - Seventeen Individuals have been seized in the Champs Elysées, by - exploratory Patriotism; they flitting dim-visible, by it flitting - dim-visible. Ye have pistols, rapiers, ye Seventeen? One of those - accursed “false Patrols;” that go marauding, with Anti-National intent; - seeking what they can spy, what they can spill! The Seventeen are carried - to the nearest Guard-house; eleven of them escape by back passages. ‘How - is this?’ Demoiselle Théroigne appears at the front entrance, with sabre, - pistols, and a train; denounces treasonous connivance; demands, seizes, - the remaining six, that the justice of the People be not trifled with. Of - which six two more escape in the whirl and debate of the Club-Law Court; - the last unhappy Four are massacred, as Mandat was: Two Ex-Bodyguards; - one dissipated Abbé; one Royalist Pamphleteer, Sulleau, known to us by - name, Able Editor, and wit of all work. Poor Sulleau: his <i>Acts of the - Apostles</i>, and brisk Placard-Journals (for he was an able man) come to - <i>Finis</i>, in this manner; and questionable jesting issues suddenly in - horrid earnest! Such doings usher in the dawn of the Tenth of August, - 1792. - </p> - - <p> - Or think what a night the poor National Assembly has had: sitting there, - “in great paucity,” attempting to debate;—quivering and shivering; - pointing towards all the thirty-two azimuths at once, as the - magnet-needle does when thunderstorm is in the air! If the Insurrection - come? If it come, and fail? Alas, in that case, may not black Courtiers, - with blunderbusses, red Swiss with bayonets rush over, flushed with - victory, and ask us: Thou undefinable, waterlogged, self-distractive, - self-destructive Legislative, what dost thou here <i>unsunk?</i>—Or - figure the poor National Guards, bivouacking “in temporary tents” there; - or standing ranked, shifting from leg to leg, all through the weary - night; New tricolor Municipals ordering one thing, old Mandat Captains - ordering another! Procureur Manuel has ordered the cannons to be - withdrawn from the Pont Neuf; none ventured to disobey him. It seemed - certain, then, the old Staff so long doomed has finally been dissolved, - in these hours; and Mandat is not our Commandant now, but Santerre? Yes, - friends: Santerre henceforth,—surely Mandat no more! The Squadrons - that were to charge see nothing certain, except that they are cold, - hungry, worn down with watching; that it were sad to slay French - brothers; sadder to be slain by them. Without the Tuileries Circuit, and - within it, sour uncertain humour sways these men: only the red Swiss - stand steadfast. Them their officers refresh now with a slight wetting of - brandy; wherein the Nationals, too far gone for brandy, refuse to - participate. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - King Louis meanwhile had laid him down for a little sleep: his wig when - he reappeared had lost the powder on one side.<a href="#linknote-503" - name="linknoteref-503" id="linknoteref-503">[503]</a> Old Marshal Maillé - and the gentlemen in black rise always in spirits, as the Insurrection - does not rise: there goes a witty saying now, ‘<i>Le tocsin ne rend - pas</i>.’ The tocsin, like a dry milk-cow, does not yield. For the rest, - could one not proclaim Martial Law? Not easily; for now, it seems, Mayor - Pétion is gone. On the other hand, our Interim Commandant, poor Mandat - being off, “to the Hôtel-de-Ville,” complains that so many Courtiers in - black encumber the service, are an eyesorrow to the National Guards. To - which her Majesty answers with emphasis, That they will obey all, will - suffer all, that they are sure men these. - </p> - - <p> - And so the yellow lamplight dies out in the gray of morning, in the - King’s Palace, over such a scene. Scene of jostling, elbowing, of - confusion, and indeed conclusion, for the thing is about to end. Rœderer - and spectral Ministers jostle in the press; consult, in side cabinets, - with one or with both Majesties. Sister Elizabeth takes the Queen to the - window: ‘Sister, see what a beautiful sunrise,’ right over the Jacobins - church and that quarter! How happy if the tocsin did not yield! But - Mandat returns not; Pétion is gone: much hangs wavering in the invisible - Balance. About five o’clock, there rises from the Garden a kind of sound; - as of a shout to which had become a howl, and instead of <i>Vive le - Roi</i> were ending in <i>Vive la Nation</i>. ‘<i>Mon Dieu!</i>’ - ejaculates a spectral Minister, ‘what is he doing down there?’ For it is - his Majesty, gone down with old Marshal Maillé to review the troops; and - the nearest companies of them answer <i>so</i>. Her Majesty bursts into a - stream of tears. Yet on stepping from the cabinet her eyes are dry and - calm, her look is even cheerful. “The Austrian lip, and the aquiline - nose, fuller than usual, gave to her countenance,” says Peltier,<a - href="#linknote-504" name="linknoteref-504" - id="linknoteref-504">[504]</a> “something of Majesty, which they that did - not see her in these moments cannot well have an idea of.” O thou - Theresa’s Daughter! - </p> - - <p> - King Louis enters, much blown with the fatigue; but for the rest with his - old air of indifference. Of all hopes now surely the joyfullest were, - that the tocsin did not yield. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0103" id="link2HCH0103"></a> - Chapter 2.6.VII.<br/> - The Swiss. - </h3> - - <p> - Unhappy Friends, the tocsin does yield, has yielded! Lo ye, how with the - first sun-rays its Ocean-tide, of pikes and fusils, flows glittering from - the far East;—immeasurable; born of the Night! They march there, - the grim host; Saint-Antoine on this side of the River; Saint-Marceau on - that, the blackbrowed Marseillese in the van. With hum, and grim murmur, - far-heard; like the Ocean-tide, as we say: drawn up, as if by Luna and - Influences, from the great Deep of Waters, they roll gleaming on; no - King, Canute or Louis, can bid them roll back. Wide-eddying - side-currents, of onlookers, roll hither and thither, unarmed, not - voiceless; they, the steel host, roll on. New-Commandant Santerre, - indeed, has taken seat at the Townhall; rests there, in his - half-way-house. Alsatian Westermann, with flashing sabre, does not rest; - nor the Sections, nor the Marseillese, nor Demoiselle Théroigne; but roll - continually on. - </p> - - <p> - And now, where are Mandat’s Squadrons that were to charge? Not a Squadron - of them stirs: or they stir in the wrong direction, out of the way; their - officers glad that they will even do that. It is to this hour uncertain - whether the Squadron on the Pont Neuf made the shadow of resistance, or - did not make the shadow: enough, the blackbrowed Marseillese, and - Saint-Marceau following them, do cross without let; do cross, in sure - hope now of Saint-Antoine and the rest; do billow on, towards the - Tuileries, where their errand is. The Tuileries, at sound of them, - rustles responsive: the red Swiss look to their priming; Courtiers in - black draw their blunderbusses, rapiers, poniards, some have even - fire-shovels; every man his weapon of war. - </p> - - <p> - Judge if, in these circumstances, Syndic Rœderer felt easy! Will the kind - Heavens open no middle-course of refuge for a poor Syndic who halts - between two? If indeed his Majesty would consent to go over to the - Assembly! His Majesty, above all her Majesty, cannot agree to that. Did - her Majesty answer the proposal with a ‘<i>Fi donc;</i>’ did she say - even, she would be nailed to the walls sooner? Apparently not. It is - written also that she offered the King a pistol; saying, Now or else - never was the time to shew himself. Close eye-witnesses did not see it, - nor do we. That saw only that she was queenlike, quiet; that she argued - not, upbraided not, with the Inexorable; but, like Cæsar in the Capitol, - wrapped her mantle, as it beseems Queens and Sons of Adam to do. But - thou, O Louis! of what stuff art thou at all? Is there no stroke in thee, - then, for Life and Crown? The silliest hunted deer dies not so. Art thou - the languidest of all mortals; or the mildest-minded? Thou art the - worst-starred. - </p> - - <p> - The tide advances; Syndic Rœderer’s and all men’s straits grow straiter - and straiter. Fremescent clangor comes from the armed Nationals in the - Court; far and wide is the infinite hubbub of tongues. What counsel? And - the tide is now nigh! Messengers, forerunners speak hastily through the - outer Grates; hold parley sitting astride the walls. Syndic Rœderer goes - out and comes in. Cannoneers ask him: Are we to fire against the people? - King’s Ministers ask him: Shall the King’s House be forced? Syndic - Rœderer has a hard game to play. He speaks to the Cannoneers with - eloquence, with fervour; such fervour as a man can, who has to blow hot - and cold in one breath. Hot and cold, O Rœderer? We, for our part, cannot - live <i>and</i> die! The Cannoneers, by way of answer, fling down their - linstocks.—Think of this answer, O King Louis, and King’s - Ministers: and take a poor Syndic’s safe middle-course, towards the Salle - de Manége. King Louis sits, his hands leant on knees, body bent forward; - gazes for a space fixedly on Syndic Rœderer; then answers, looking over - his shoulder to the Queen: <i>Marchons!</i> They march; King Louis, - Queen, Sister Elizabeth, the two royal children and governess: these, - with Syndic Rœderer, and Officials of the Department; amid a double rank - of National Guards. The men with blunderbusses, the steady red Swiss gaze - mournfully, reproachfully; but hear only these words from Syndic Rœderer: - ‘The King is going to the Assembly; make way.’ It has struck eight, on - all clocks, some minutes ago: the King has left the Tuileries—for - ever. - </p> - - <p> - O ye stanch Swiss, ye gallant gentlemen in black, for what a cause are ye - to spend and be spent! Look out from the western windows, ye may see King - Louis placidly hold on his way; the poor little Prince Royal “sportfully - kicking the fallen leaves.” Fremescent multitude on the Terrace of the - Feuillants whirls parallel to him; one man in it, very noisy, with a long - pole: will they not obstruct the outer Staircase, and back-entrance of - the Salle, when it comes to that? King’s Guards can go no further than - the bottom step there. Lo, Deputation of Legislators come out; he of the - long pole is stilled by oratory; Assembly’s Guards join themselves to - King’s Guards, and all may mount in this case of necessity; the outer - Staircase is free, or passable. See, Royalty ascends; a blue Grenadier - lifts the poor little Prince Royal from the press; Royalty has entered - in. Royalty has vanished for ever from your eyes.—And ye? Left - standing there, amid the yawning abysses, and earthquake of Insurrection; - without course; without command: if ye perish it must be as more than - martyrs, as martyrs who are now without a cause! The black Courtiers - disappear mostly; through such issues as they can. The poor Swiss know - not how to act: one duty only is clear to them, that of standing by their - post; and they will perform that. - </p> - - <p> - But the glittering steel tide has arrived; it beats now against the - Château barriers, and eastern Courts; irresistible, loud-surging far and - wide;—breaks in, fills the Court of the Carrousel, blackbrowed - Marseillese in the van. King Louis gone, say you; over to the Assembly! - Well and good: but till the Assembly pronounce Forfeiture of him, what - boots it? Our post is in that Château or stronghold of his; there till - then must we continue. Think, ye stanch Swiss, whether it were good that - grim murder began, and brothers blasted one another in pieces for a stone - edifice?—Poor Swiss! they know not how to act: from the southern - windows, some fling cartridges, in sign of brotherhood; on the eastern - outer staircase, and within through long stairs and corridors, they stand - firm-ranked, peaceable and yet refusing to stir. Westermann speaks to - them in Alsatian German; Marseillese plead, in hot Provençal speech and - pantomime; stunning hubbub pleads and threatens, infinite, around. The - Swiss stand fast, peaceable and yet immovable; red granite pier in that - waste-flashing sea of steel. - </p> - - <p> - Who can help the inevitable issue; Marseillese and all France, on this - side; granite Swiss on that? The pantomime grows hotter and hotter; - Marseillese sabres flourishing by way of action; the Swiss brow also - clouding itself, the Swiss thumb bringing its firelock to the cock. And - hark! high-thundering above all the din, three Marseillese cannon from - the Carrousel, pointed by a gunner of bad aim, come rattling over the - roofs! Ye Swiss, therefore: <i>Fire!</i> The Swiss fire; by volley, by - platoon, in rolling-fire: Marseillese men not a few, and “a tall man that - was louder than any,” lie silent, smashed, upon the pavement;—not a - few Marseillese, after the long dusty march, have made halt <i>here</i>. - The Carrousel is void; the black tide recoiling; “fugitives rushing as - far as Saint-Antoine before they stop.” The Cannoneers without linstock - have squatted invisible, and left their cannon; which the Swiss seize. - </p> - - <p> - Think what a volley: reverberating doomful to the four corners of Paris, - and through all hearts; like the clang of Bellona’s thongs! The - blackbrowed Marseillese, rallying on the instant, have become black - Demons that know how to die. Nor is Brest behind-hand; nor Alsatian - Westermann; Demoiselle Théroigne is Sybil Théroigne: Vengeance - <i>Victoire, ou la mort!</i> From all Patriot artillery, great and small; - from Feuillants Terrace, and all terraces and places of the widespread - Insurrectionary sea, there roars responsive a red whirlwind. Blue - Nationals, ranked in the Garden, cannot help their muskets going off, - <i>against</i> Foreign murderers. For there is a sympathy in muskets, in - heaped masses of men: nay, are not Mankind, in whole, like tuned strings, - and a cunning infinite concordance and unity; you smite one string, and - all strings will begin sounding,—in soft sphere-melody, in - deafening screech of madness! Mounted Gendarmerie gallop distracted; are - fired on merely as a thing running; galloping over the Pont Royal, or one - knows not whither. The brain of Paris, brain-fevered in the centre of it - here, has gone mad; what you call, taken fire. - </p> - - <p> - Behold, the fire slackens not; nor does the Swiss rolling-fire slacken - from within. Nay they clutched cannon, as we saw: and now, from the other - side, they clutch three pieces more; alas, cannon without linstock; nor - will the steel-and-flint answer, though they try it.<a - href="#linknote-505" name="linknoteref-505" - id="linknoteref-505">[505]</a> Had it chanced to answer! Patriot - onlookers have their misgivings; one strangest Patriot onlooker thinks - that the Swiss, had they a commander, would beat. He is a man not - unqualified to judge; the name of him is Napoleon Buonaparte.<a - href="#linknote-506" name="linknoteref-506" - id="linknoteref-506">[506]</a> And onlookers, and women, stand gazing, - and the witty Dr. Moore of Glasgow among them, on the other side of the - River: cannon rush rumbling past them; pause on the Pont Royal; belch out - their iron entrails there, against the Tuileries; and at every new belch, - the women and onlookers shout and clap hands.<a href="#linknote-507" - name="linknoteref-507" id="linknoteref-507">[507]</a> City of all the - Devils! In remote streets, men are drinking breakfast-coffee; following - their affairs; with a start now and then, as some dull echo reverberates - a note louder. And here? Marseillese fall wounded; but Barbaroux has - surgeons; Barbaroux is close by, managing, though underhand, and under - cover. Marseillese fall death-struck; bequeath their firelock, specify in - which pocket are the cartridges; and die, murmuring, ‘Revenge me, Revenge - thy country!’ Brest Fédéré Officers, galloping in red coats, are shot as - Swiss. Lo you, the Carrousel has burst into flame!—Paris - Pandemonium! Nay the poor City, as we said, is in fever-fit and - convulsion; such crisis has lasted for the space of some half hour. - </p> - - <p> - But what is this that, with Legislative Insignia, ventures through the - hubbub and death-hail, from the back-entrance of the Manege? Towards the - Tuileries and Swiss: written Order from his Majesty to cease firing! O ye - hapless Swiss, why was there no order not to begin it? Gladly would the - Swiss cease firing: but who will bid mad Insurrection cease firing? To - Insurrection you cannot speak; neither can it, hydra-headed, hear. The - dead and dying, by the hundred, lie all around; are borne bleeding - through the streets, towards help; the sight of them, like a torch of the - Furies, kindling Madness. Patriot Paris roars; as the bear bereaved of - her whelps. On, ye Patriots: vengeance! victory or death! There are men - seen, who rush on, armed only with walking-sticks.<a href="#linknote-508" - name="linknoteref-508" id="linknoteref-508">[508]</a> Terror and Fury - rule the hour. - </p> - - <p> - The Swiss, pressed on from without, paralyzed from within, have ceased to - shoot; but not to be shot. What shall they do? Desperate is the moment. - Shelter or instant death: yet How? Where? One party flies out by the Rue - de l’Echelle; is destroyed utterly, “<i>en entier</i>.” A second, by the - other side, throws itself into the Garden; “hurrying across a keen - fusillade:” rushes suppliant into the National Assembly; finds pity and - refuge in the back benches there. The third, and largest, darts out in - column, three hundred strong, towards the Champs Elysées: Ah, could we - but reach Courbevoye, where other Swiss are! Wo! see, in such fusillade - the column “soon breaks itself by diversity of opinion,” into distracted - segments, this way and that;—to escape in holes, to die fighting - from street to street. The firing and murdering will not cease; not yet - for long. The red Porters of Hotels are shot at, be they <i>Suisse</i> by - nature, or <i>Suisse</i> only in name. The very Firemen, who pump and - labour on that smoking Carrousel, are shot at; why should the Carrousel - <i>not</i> burn? Some Swiss take refuge in private houses; find that - mercy too does still dwell in the heart of man. The brave Marseillese are - merciful, late so wroth; and labour to save. Journalist Gorsas pleads - hard with enfuriated groups. Clemence, the Wine-merchant, stumbles - forward to the Bar of the Assembly, a rescued Swiss in his hand; tells - passionately how he rescued him with pain and peril, how he will - henceforth support him, being childless himself; and falls a swoon round - the poor Swiss’s neck: amid plaudits. But the most are butchered, and - even mangled. Fifty (some say Fourscore) were marched as prisoners, by - National Guards, to the Hôtel-de-Ville: the ferocious people bursts - through on them, in the Place de Grève; massacres them to the last man. - “<i>O Peuple</i>, envy of the universe!” <i>Peuple</i>, in mad Gaelic - effervescence! - </p> - - <p> - Surely few things in the history of carnage are painfuller. What - ineffaceable red streak, flickering so sad in the memory, is that, of - this poor column of red Swiss “breaking itself in the confusion of - opinions;” dispersing, into blackness and death! Honour to you, brave - men; honourable pity, through long times! Not martyrs were ye; and yet - almost more. He was no King of yours, this Louis; and he forsook you like - a King of shreds and patches; ye were but sold to him for some poor - sixpence a-day; yet would ye work for your wages, keep your plighted - word. The work now was to die; and ye did it. Honour to you, O Kinsmen; - and may the old Deutsch <i>Biederkeit</i> and <i>Tapferkeit</i>, and - Valour which is <i>Worth</i> and <i>Truth</i> be they Swiss, be they - Saxon, fail in no age! Not bastards; true-born were these men; sons of - the men of Sempach, of Murten, who knelt, but not to thee, O - Burgundy!—Let the traveller, as he passes through Lucerne, turn - aside to look a little at their monumental Lion; not for Thorwaldsen’s - sake alone. Hewn out of living rock, the Figure rests there, by the still - Lake-waters, in lullaby of distant-tinkling <i>rance-des-vaches</i>, the - granite Mountains dumbly keeping watch all round; and, though inanimate, - speaks. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0104" id="link2HCH0104"></a> - Chapter 2.6.VIII.<br/> - Constitution burst in Pieces. - </h3> - - <p> - Thus is the Tenth of August won and lost. Patriotism reckons its slain by - thousand on thousand, so deadly was the Swiss fire from these windows; - but will finally reduce them to some Twelve hundred. No child’s play was - it;—nor is it! Till two in the afternoon the massacring, the - breaking and the burning has not ended; nor the loose Bedlam shut itself - again. - </p> - - <p> - How deluges of frantic Sansculottism roared through all passages of this - Tuileries, ruthless in vengeance, how the Valets were butchered, hewn - down; and Dame Campan saw the Marseilles sabre flash over her head, but - the Blackbrowed said, ‘<i>Va-t-en</i>, Get thee gone,’ and flung her from - him unstruck:<a href="#linknote-509" name="linknoteref-509" - id="linknoteref-509">[509]</a> how in the cellars wine-bottles were - broken, wine-butts were staved in and drunk; and, upwards to the very - garrets, all windows tumbled out their precious royal furnitures; and, - with gold mirrors, velvet curtains, down of ript feather-beds, and dead - bodies of men, the Tuileries was like no Garden of the Earth:—all - this let him who has a taste for it see amply in Mercier, in acrid - Montgaillard, or Beaulieu of the <i>Deux Amis</i>. A hundred and eighty - bodies of Swiss lie piled there; naked, unremoved till the second day. - Patriotism has torn their red coats into snips; and marches with them at - the Pike’s point: the ghastly bare corpses lie there, under the sun and - under the stars; the curious of both sexes crowding to look. Which let - not us do. Above a hundred carts heaped with Dead fare towards the - Cemetery of Sainte-Madeleine; bewailed, bewept; for all had kindred, all - had mothers, if not here, then there. It is one of those Carnage-fields, - such as you read of by the name “Glorious Victory,” brought home in this - case to one’s own door. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But the blackbrowed Marseillese have struck down the Tyrant of the - Château. He is struck down; low, and hardly to rise. What a moment for an - august Legislative was that when the Hereditary Representative entered, - under such circumstances; and the Grenadier, carrying the little Prince - Royal out of the Press, set him down on the Assembly-table! A - moment,—which one had to smooth off with oratory; waiting what the - next would bring! Louis said few words: ‘He was come hither to prevent a - great crime; he believed himself safer nowhere than here.’ President - Vergniaud answered briefly, in vague oratory as we say, about ‘defence of - Constituted Authorities,’ about dying at our post.<a href="#linknote-510" - name="linknoteref-510" id="linknoteref-510">[510]</a> And so King Louis - sat him down; first here, then there; for a difficulty arose, the - Constitution not permitting us to debate while the King is present: - finally he settles himself with his Family in the “<i>Loge</i> of the - <i>Logographe</i>” in the Reporter’s-Box of a Journalist: which is beyond - the enchanted Constitutional Circuit, separated from it by a rail. To - such Lodge of the <i>Logographe</i>, measuring some ten feet square, with - a small closet at the entrance of it behind, is the King of broad France - now limited: here can he and his sit pent, under the eyes of the world, - or retire into their closet at intervals; for the space of sixteen hours. - Such quiet peculiar moment has the Legislative lived to see. - </p> - - <p> - But also what a moment was that other, few minutes later, when the three - Marseillese cannon went off, and the Swiss rolling-fire and universal - thunder, like the Crack of Doom, began to rattle! Honourable Members - start to their feet; stray bullets singing epicedium even here, shivering - in with window-glass and jingle. ‘No, this is our post; let us die here!’ - They sit therefore, like stone Legislators. But may not the Lodge of the - <i>Logographe</i> be forced from behind? Tear down the railing that - divides it from the enchanted Constitutional Circuit! Ushers tear and - tug; his Majesty himself aiding from within: the railing gives way; - Majesty and Legislative are united in place, unknown Destiny hovering - over both. - </p> - - <p> - Rattle, and again rattle, went the thunder; one breathless wide-eyed - messenger rushing in after another: King’s orders to the Swiss went out. - It was a fearful thunder; but, as we know, it ended. Breathless - messengers, fugitive Swiss, denunciatory Patriots, trepidation; finally - tripudiation!—Before four o’clock much has come and gone. - </p> - - <p> - The New Municipals have come and gone; with Three Flags, <i>Liberté, - Egalité, Patrie</i>, and the clang of vivats. Vergniaud, he who as - President few hours ago talked of Dying for Constituted Authorities, has - moved, as Committee-Reporter, that the Hereditary Representative <i>be - suspended;</i> that a NATIONAL CONVENTION do forthwith assemble to say - what further! An able Report: which the President must have had ready in - his pocket? A President, in such cases, must have much ready, and yet not - ready; and Janus-like look before and after. - </p> - - <p> - King Louis listens to all; retires about midnight “to three little rooms - on the upper floor;” till the Luxembourg be prepared for him, and “the - safeguard of the Nation.” Safer if Brunswick were once here! Or, alas, - not so safe? Ye hapless discrowned heads! Crowds came, next morning, to - catch a climpse of them, in their three upper rooms. Montgaillard says - the august Captives wore an air of cheerfulness, even of gaiety; that the - Queen and Princess Lamballe, who had joined her over night, looked out of - the open window, “shook powder from their hair on the people below, and - laughed.”<a href="#linknote-511" name="linknoteref-511" - id="linknoteref-511">[511]</a> He is an acrid distorted man. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For the rest, one may guess that the Legislative, above all that the New - Municipality continues busy. Messengers, Municipal or Legislative, and - swift despatches rush off to all corners of France; full of triumph, - blended with indignant wail, for Twelve hundred have fallen. France sends - up its blended shout responsive; the Tenth of August shall be as the - Fourteenth of July, only bloodier and greater. The Court has conspired? - Poor Court: the Court has been vanquished; and will have both the scath - to bear and the scorn. How the Statues of Kings do now all fall! Bronze - Henri himself, though he wore a cockade once, jingles down from the Pont - Neuf, where <i>Patrie</i> floats <i>in Danger</i>. Much more does Louis - Fourteenth, from the Place Vendôme, jingle down, and even breaks in - falling. The curious can remark, written on his horse’s shoe: “12 - <i>Août</i> 1692;” a Century and a Day. - </p> - - <p> - The Tenth of August was Friday. The week is not done, when our old - Patriot Ministry is recalled, what of it can be got: strict Roland, - Genevese Clavière; add heavy Monge the Mathematician, once a stone-hewer; - and, for Minister of Justice,—Danton “led hither,” as himself says, - in one of his gigantic figures, “through the breach of Patriot cannon!” - These, under Legislative Committees, must rule the wreck as they can: - confusedly enough; with an old Legislative waterlogged, with a New - Municipality so brisk. But National Convention will get itself together; - and <i>then!</i> Without delay, however, let a New Jury-Court and - Criminal Tribunal be set up in Paris, to try the crimes and conspiracies - of the Tenth. High Court of Orléans is distant, slow: the blood of the - Twelve hundred Patriots, whatever become of other blood, shall be - inquired after. Tremble, ye Criminals and Conspirators; the Minister of - Justice is Danton! Robespierre too, after the victory, sits in the New - Municipality; insurrectionary “improvised Municipality,” which calls - itself Council General of the Commune. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For three days now, Louis and his Family have heard the Legislative - Debates in the Lodge of the <i>Logographe;</i> and retired nightly to - their small upper rooms. The Luxembourg and safeguard of the Nation could - not be got ready: nay, it seems the Luxembourg has too many cellars and - issues; no Municipality can undertake to watch it. The compact Prison of - the Temple, not so elegant indeed, were much safer. To the Temple, - therefore! On Monday, 13th day of August 1792, in Mayor Pétion’s - carriage, Louis and his sad suspended Household, fare thither; all Paris - out to look at them. As they pass through the Place Vendôme Louis - Fourteenth’s Statue lies broken on the ground. Pétion is afraid the - Queen’s looks may be thought scornful, and produce provocation; she casts - down her eyes, and does not look at all. The “press is prodigious,” but - quiet: here and there, it shouts <i>Vive la Nation;</i> but for most part - gazes in silence. French Royalty vanishes within the gates of the Temple: - these old peaked Towers, like peaked Extinguisher or <i>Bonsoir</i>, do - cover it up;—from which same Towers, poor Jacques Molay and his - Templars were burnt out, by French Royalty, five centuries since. Such - are the turns of Fate below. Foreign Ambassadors, English Lord Gower have - all demanded passports; are driving indignantly towards their respective - homes. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So, then, the Constitution is over? For ever and a day! Gone is that - wonder of the Universe; First biennial Parliament, waterlogged, waits - only till the Convention come; and will then sink to endless depths. - </p> - - <p> - One can guess the silent rage of Old-Constituents, Constitution-builders, - extinct Feuillants, men who thought the Constitution would march! - Lafayette rises to the altitude of the situation; at the head of his - Army. Legislative Commissioners are posting towards him and it, on the - Northern Frontier, to congratulate and perorate: he orders the - Municipality of Sedan to arrest these Commissioners, and keep them - strictly in ward as Rebels, till he say further. The Sedan Municipals - obey. - </p> - - <p> - The Sedan Municipals obey: but the Soldiers of the Lafayette Army? The - Soldiers of the Lafayette Army have, as all Soldiers have, a kind of dim - feeling that they themselves are Sansculottes in buff belts; that the - victory of the Tenth of August is also a victory for them. They will not - rise and follow Lafayette to Paris; they will rise and <i>send</i> him - thither! On the 18th, which is but next Saturday, Lafayette, with some - two or three indignant Staff-officers, one of whom is Old-Constituent - Alexandre de Lameth, having first put his Lines in what order he - could,—rides swiftly over the Marches, towards Holland. Rides, - alas, swiftly into the claws of Austrians! He, long-wavering, trembling - on the verge of the horizon, has set, in Olmutz Dungeons; this History - knows him no more. Adieu, thou Hero of two worlds; thinnest, but compact - honour-worthy man! Through long rough night of captivity, through other - tumults, triumphs and changes, thou wilt swing well, “fast-anchored to - the Washington Formula;” and be the Hero and Perfect-character, were it - only of one idea. The Sedan Municipals repent and protest; the Soldiers - shout <i>Vive la Nation</i>. Dumouriez Polymetis, from his Camp at - Maulde, sees himself made Commander in Chief. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And, O Brunswick! what sort of “military execution” will Paris merit now? - Forward, ye well-drilled exterminatory men; with your artillery-waggons, - and camp kettles jingling. Forward, tall chivalrous King of Prussia; - fanfaronading Emigrants and war-god Broglie, “for some consolation to - mankind,” which verily is not without need of some. - - </p> <h5> END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. </h5> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h2><a name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"></a> - VOLUME III.<br/> - THE GUILLOTINE - </h2> - -<p class="poem"> -Alle Freiheits-Apostel, sie waren mir immer zuwider;<br/> - Willkür suchte doch nur Jeder am Ende für sich.<br/> -Willst du Viele befrein, so wag’ es Vielen zu dienen.<br/> - Wie gefährlich das sey, willst du es wissen? Versuch’s!<br/> -</p> - -<p class="right"> GOETHE. </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"></a> - BOOK 3.I.<br/> - SEPTEMBER - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0105" id="link2HCH0105"></a> - Chapter 3.1.I.<br/> - The Improvised Commune. - </h3> - - <p> - Ye have roused her, then, ye Emigrants and Despots of the world; France - is roused; long have ye been lecturing and tutoring this poor Nation, - like cruel uncalled-for pedagogues, shaking over her your ferulas of fire - and steel: it is long that ye have pricked and fillipped and affrighted - her, there as she sat helpless in her dead cerements of a Constitution, - you gathering in on her from all lands, with your armaments and plots, - your invadings and truculent bullyings;—and lo now, ye have pricked - her to the quick, and she is up, and her blood is up. The dead cerements - are rent into cobwebs, and she fronts you in that terrible strength of - Nature, which no man has measured, which goes down to Madness and Tophet: - see now how ye will deal with her! - </p> - - <p> - This month of September, 1792, which has become one of the memorable - months of History, presents itself under two most diverse aspects; all of - black on the one side, all of bright on the other. Whatsoever is cruel in - the panic frenzy of Twenty-five million men, whatsoever is great in the - simultaneous death-defiance of Twenty-five million men, stand here in - abrupt contrast, near by one another. As indeed is usual when a man, how - much more when a Nation of men, is hurled suddenly beyond the limits. For - Nature, as green as she looks, rests everywhere on dread foundations, - were we farther down; and Pan, to whose music the Nymphs dance, has a cry - in him that can drive all men distracted. - </p> - - <p> - Very frightful it is when a Nation, rending asunder its Constitutions and - Regulations which were grown dead cerements for it, becomes - <i>trans</i>cendental; and must now seek its wild way through the New, - Chaotic,—where Force is not yet distinguished into Bidden and - Forbidden, but Crime and Virtue welter unseparated,—in that domain - of what is called the Passions; of what we call the Miracles and the - Portents! It is thus that, for some three years to come, we are to - contemplate France, in this final Third Volume of our History. - Sansculottism reigning in all its grandeur and in all its hideousness: - the Gospel (God’s Message) of Man’s Rights, Man’s <i>mights</i> or - strengths, once more preached irrefragably abroad; along with this, and - still louder for the time, and fearfullest Devil’s-Message of Man’s - weaknesses and sins;—and all on such a scale, and under such - aspect: cloudy “death-birth of a world;” huge smoke-cloud, streaked with - rays as of heaven on one side; girt on the other as with hell-fire! - History tells us many things: but for the last thousand years and more, - what thing has she told us of a sort like this? Which therefore let us - two, O Reader, dwell on willingly, for a little; and from its endless - significance endeavour to extract what may, in present circumstances, be - adapted for us. - </p> - - <p> - It is unfortunate, though very natural, that the history of this Period - has so generally been written in hysterics. Exaggeration abounds, - execration, wailing; and, on the whole, darkness. But thus too, when foul - old Rome had to be swept from the Earth, and those Northmen, and other - horrid sons of Nature, came in, “swallowing formulas” as the French now - do, foul old Rome screamed execratively her loudest; so that, the true - shape of many things is lost for us. Attila’s Huns had arms of such - length that they could lift a stone without stooping. Into the body of - the poor Tatars execrative Roman History intercalated an alphabetic - letter; and so they continue Ta-r-tars, of fell Tartarean nature, to this - day. Here, in like manner, search as we will in these multi-form - innumerable French Records, darkness too frequently covers, or sheer - distraction bewilders. One finds it difficult to imagine that the Sun - shone in this September month, as he does in others. Nevertheless it is - an indisputable fact that the Sun did shine; and there was weather and - work,—nay, as to that, very bad weather for harvest work! An - unlucky Editor may do his utmost; and after all, require allowances. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - He had been a wise Frenchman, who, looking, close at hand, on this waste - aspect of a France all stirring and whirling, in ways new, untried, had - been able to discern where the cardinal movement lay; which tendency it - was that had the rule and primary direction of it then! But at forty-four - years’ distance, it is different. To all men now, two cardinal movements - or grand tendencies, in the September whirl, have become discernible - enough: that stormful effluence towards the Frontiers; that frantic - crowding towards Townhouses and Council-halls in the interior. Wild - France dashes, in desperate death-defiance, towards the Frontiers, to - defend itself from foreign Despots; crowds towards Townhalls and Election - Committee-rooms, to defend itself from domestic Aristocrats. Let the - Reader conceive well these two cardinal movements; and what side-currents - and endless vortexes might depend on these. He shall judge too, whether, - in such sudden wreckage of all old Authorities, such a pair of cardinal - movements, half-frantic in themselves, could be of soft nature? As in dry - Sahara, when the winds waken, and lift and winnow the immensity of sand! - The air itself (Travellers say) is a dim sand-air; and dim looming - through it, the wonderfullest uncertain colonnades of Sand-Pillars rush - whirling from this side and from that, like so many mad - Spinning-Dervishes, of a hundred feet in stature; and dance their huge - Desert-waltz there!— - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless in all human movements, were they but a day old, there is - order, or the beginning of order. Consider two things in this - Sahara-waltz of the French Twenty-five millions; or rather one thing, and - one hope of a thing: the <i>Commune</i> (Municipality) of Paris, which is - already here; the National Convention, which shall in few weeks be here. - The Insurrectionary Commune, which improvising itself on the eve of the - Tenth of August, worked this ever-memorable Deliverance by explosion, - must needs rule over it,—till the Convention meet. This Commune, - which they may well call a spontaneous or “improvised” Commune, is, for - the present, sovereign of France. The Legislative, deriving its authority - from the Old, how can <i>it</i> now have authority when the Old is - exploded by insurrection? As a floating piece of wreck, certain things, - persons and interests may still cleave to it: volunteer defenders, - riflemen or pikemen in green uniform, or red nightcap (of <i>bonnet - rouge</i>), defile before it daily, just on the wing towards Brunswick; - with the brandishing of arms; always with some touch of - Leonidas-eloquence, often with a fire of daring that threatens to - outherod Herod,—the Galleries, “especially the Ladies, never done - with applauding.”<a href="#linknote-512" name="linknoteref-512" - id="linknoteref-512">[512]</a> Addresses of this or the like sort can be - received and answered, in the hearing of all France: the Salle de Manége - is still useful as a place of proclamation. For which use, indeed, it now - chiefly serves. Vergniaud delivers spirit-stirring orations; but always - with a prophetic sense only, looking towards the coming Convention. ‘Let - our memory perish,’ cries Vergniaud, ‘but let France be - free!’—whereupon they all start to their feet, shouting responsive: - ‘Yes, yes, <i>périsse notre mémoire, pourvu que la France soit - libre!</i>’<a href="#linknote-513" name="linknoteref-513" - id="linknoteref-513">[513]</a> Disfrocked Chabot abjures Heaven that at - least we may ‘have done with Kings;’ and fast as powder under spark, we - all blaze up once more, and with waved hats shout and swear: ‘Yes, - <i>nous le jurons; plus de roi!</i>’<a href="#linknote-514" - name="linknoteref-514" id="linknoteref-514">[514]</a> All which, as a - method of proclamation, is very convenient. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, that our busy Brissots, rigorous Rolands, men who once had - authority and now have less and less; men who love law, and will have - even an Explosion explode itself, as far as possible, according to rule, - do find this state of matters most unofficial unsatisfactory,—is - not to be denied. Complaints are made; attempts are made: but without - effect. The attempts even recoil; and must be desisted from, for fear of - worse: the sceptre is departed from this Legislative once and always. A - poor Legislative, so hard was fate, had let itself be hand-gyved, nailed - to the rock like an Andromeda, and could only wail there to the Earth and - Heavens; miraculously a winged Perseus (or Improvised Commune) has dawned - out of the void Blue, and cut her loose: but whether now is it she, with - her softness and musical speech, or is it he, with his hardness and sharp - falchion and aegis, that shall have casting vote? Melodious - <i>agreement</i> of vote; this were the rule! But if otherwise, and votes - diverge, then surely Andromeda’s part is to weep,—if possible, - tears of gratitude alone. - </p> - - <p> - Be content, O France, with this Improvised Commune, such as it is! It has - the implements, and has the hands: the time is not long. On Sunday the - twenty-sixth of August, our Primary Assemblies shall meet, begin electing - of Electors; on Sunday the second of September (may the day prove lucky!) - the Electors shall begin electing Deputies; and so an all-healing - National Convention will come together. No <i>marc d’argent</i>, or - distinction of Active and Passive, now insults the French Patriot: but - there is universal suffrage, unlimited liberty to choose. - Old-constituents, Present-Legislators, all France is eligible. Nay, it - may be said, the flower of all the Universe (<i>de l’Univers</i>) is - eligible; for in these very days we, by act of Assembly, “naturalise” the - chief Foreign Friends of humanity: Priestley, burnt out for us in - Birmingham; Klopstock, a genius of all countries; Jeremy Bentham, useful - Jurisconsult; distinguished Paine, the rebellious Needleman;—some - of whom may be chosen. As is most fit; for a Convention of this kind. In - a word, Seven Hundred and Forty-five unshackled sovereigns, admired of - the universe, shall replace this hapless impotency of a - Legislative,—out of which, it is likely, the best members, and the - Mountain in mass, may be re-elected. Roland is getting ready the - <i>Salles des Cent Suisses</i>, as preliminary rendezvous for them; in - that void Palace of the Tuileries, now void and National, and not a - Palace, but a Caravansera. - </p> - - <p> - As for the Spontaneous Commune, one may say that there never was on Earth - a stranger Town-Council. Administration, not of a great City, but of a - great Kingdom in a state of revolt and frenzy, this is the task that has - fallen to it. Enrolling, provisioning, judging; devising, deciding, - doing, endeavouring to do: one wonders the human brain did not give way - under all this, and reel. But happily human brains have such a talent of - taking up simply what they can carry, and ignoring all the rest; leaving - all the rest, as if it were not there! Whereby somewhat is verily shifted - for; and much shifts for itself. This Improvised Commune walks along, - nothing doubting; promptly making front, without fear or flurry, at what - moment soever, to the wants of the moment. Were the world on fire, one - improvised tricolor Municipal has but one life to lose. They are the - elixir and chosen-men of Sansculottic Patriotism; promoted to the - forlorn-hope; unspeakable victory or a high gallows, this is their meed. - They sit there, in the Townhall, these astonishing tricolor Municipals; - in Council General; in Committee of Watchfulness (<i>de Surveillance</i>, - which will even become <i>de Salut Public</i>, of Public Salvation), or - what other Committees and Sub-committees are needful;—managing - infinite Correspondence; passing infinite Decrees: one hears of a Decree - being “the ninety-eighth of the day.” Ready! is the word. They carry - loaded pistols in their pocket; also some improvised luncheon by way of - meal. Or indeed, by and by, <i>traiteurs</i> contract for the supply of - repasts, to be eaten on the spot,—too lavishly, as it was - afterwards grumbled. Thus they: girt in their tricolor sashes; Municipal - note-paper in the one hand, fire-arms in other. They have their Agents - out all over France; speaking in townhouses, market-places, highways and - byways; agitating, urging to arm; all hearts tingling to hear. Great is - the fire of Anti-Aristocrat eloquence: nay some, as Bibliopolic Momoro, - seem to hint afar off at something which smells of Agrarian Law, and a - surgery of the overswoln dropsical strong-box itself;—whereat - indeed the bold Bookseller runs risk of being hanged, and Ex-Constituent - Buzot has to smuggle him off.<a href="#linknote-515" - name="linknoteref-515" id="linknoteref-515">[515]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Governing Persons, were they never so insignificant intrinsically, have - for most part plenty of Memoir-writers; and the curious, in after-times, - can learn minutely their goings out and comings in: which, as men always - love to know their fellow-men in singular situations, is a comfort, of - its kind. Not so, with these Governing Persons, now in the Townhall! And - yet what most original fellow-man, of the Governing sort, - high-chancellor, king, kaiser, secretary of the home or the foreign - department, ever shewed such a phasis as Clerk Tallien, Procureur Manuel, - future Procureur Chaumette, here in this Sand-waltz of the Twenty-five - millions, now do? O brother mortals,—thou Advocate Panis, friend of - Danton, kinsman of Santerre; Engraver Sergent, since called <i>Agate</i> - Sergent; thou Huguenin, with the tocsin in thy heart! But, as Horace - says, they wanted the sacred memoir-writer (<i>sacro vate</i>); and we - know them not. Men bragged of August and its doings, publishing them in - high places; but of this September none now or afterwards would brag. The - September world remains dark, fuliginous, as Lapland - witch-midnight;—from which, indeed, very strange shapes will evolve - themselves. - </p> - - <p> - Understand this, however: that incorruptible Robespierre is not wanting, - now when the brunt of battle is past; in a stealthy way the seagreen man - sits there, his feline eyes excellent in the twilight. Also understand - this other, a single fact worth many: that Marat is not only there, but - has a seat of honour assigned him, a <i>tribune particulière</i>. How - changed for Marat; lifted from his dark cellar into this luminous - “peculiar tribune!” All dogs have their day; even rabid dogs. Sorrowful, - incurable Philoctetes Marat; without whom Troy cannot be taken! Hither, - as a main element of the Governing Power, has Marat been raised. Royalist - types, for we have “suppressed” innumerable Durosoys, Royous, and even - clapt them in prison,—Royalist types replace the worn types often - snatched from a People’s-Friend in old ill days. In our “peculiar - tribune” we write and redact: Placards, of due monitory terror; - <i>Amis-du-Peuple</i> (now under the name of <i>Journal de la - République</i>); and sit obeyed of men. “Marat,” says one, “is the - conscience of the Hôtel-de-Ville.” <i>Keeper</i>, as some call it, of the - Sovereign’s Conscience;—which surely, in such hands, will not lie - hid in a napkin! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Two great movements, as we said, agitate this distracted National mind: a - rushing against domestic Traitors, a rushing against foreign Despots. Mad - movements both, restrainable by no known rule; strongest passions of - human nature driving them on: love, hatred; vengeful sorrow, braggart - Nationality also vengeful,—and pale Panic over all! Twelve Hundred - slain Patriots, do they not, from their dark catacombs there, in Death’s - dumb-shew, plead (O ye Legislators) for vengeance? Such was the - destructive rage of these Aristocrats on the ever-memorable Tenth. Nay, - apart from vengeance, and with an eye to Public Salvation only, are there - not still, in this Paris (in round numbers) “thirty thousand - Aristocrats,” of the most malignant humour; driven now to their last - trump-card?—Be patient, ye Patriots: our New High Court, “Tribunal - of the Seventeenth,” sits; each Section has sent Four Jurymen; and - Danton, extinguishing improper judges, improper practices wheresoever - found, is “the same man you have known at the Cordeliers.” With such a - Minister of Justice shall not Justice be done?—Let it be swift - then, answers universal Patriotism; swift and sure!— - </p> - - <p> - One would hope, this Tribunal of the Seventeenth is swifter than most. - Already on the 21st, while our Court is but four days old, Collenot - d’Angremont, “the Royal enlister” (crimp, <i>embaucheur</i>) dies by - torch-light. For, lo, the great <i>Guillotine</i>, wondrous to behold, - now stands there; the Doctor’s <i>Idea</i> has become Oak and Iron; the - huge cyclopean axe “falls in its grooves like the ram of the - Pile-engine,” swiftly snuffing out the light of men?” “<i>Mais vous, - Gualches</i>, what have you invented?” <i>This?</i>—Poor old - Laporte, Intendant of the Civil List, follows next; quietly, the mild old - man. Then Durosoy, Royalist Placarder, “cashier of all the - Anti-Revolutionists of the interior:” he went rejoicing; said that a - Royalist like him ought to die, of all days on this day, the 25th or - Saint Louis’s Day. All these have been tried, cast,—the Galleries - shouting approval; and handed over to the Realised Idea, within a week. - Besides those whom we have acquitted, the Galleries murmuring, and have - dismissed; or even have personally guarded back to Prison, as the - Galleries took to howling, and even to menacing and elbowing.<a - href="#linknote-516" name="linknoteref-516" - id="linknoteref-516">[516]</a> Languid this Tribunal is not. - </p> - - <p> - Nor does the other movement slacken; the rushing against foreign Despots. - Strong forces shall meet in death-grip; drilled Europe against mad - undrilled France; and singular conclusions will be tried.—Conceive - therefore, in some faint degree, the tumult that whirls in this France, - in this Paris! Placards from Section, from Commune, from Legislative, - from the individual Patriot, flame monitory on all walls. Flags of Danger - to Fatherland wave at the Hôtel-de-Ville; on the Pont Neuf—over the - prostrate Statues of Kings. There is universal enlisting, urging to - enlist; there is tearful-boastful leave-taking; irregular marching on the - Great North-Eastern Road. Marseillese sing their wild <i>To Arms</i>, in - chorus; which now all men, all women and children have learnt, and sing - chorally, in Theatres, Boulevards, Streets; and the heart burns in every - bosom: <i>Aux Armes! Marchons!</i>—Or think how your Aristocrats - are skulking into covert; how Bertrand-Moleville lies hidden in some - garret “in Aubry-le-boucher Street, with a poor surgeon who had known - me;” Dame de Staël has secreted her Narbonne, not knowing what in the - world to make of him. The Barriers are sometimes open, oftenest shut; no - passports to be had; Townhall Emissaries, with the eyes and claws of - falcons, flitting watchful on all points of your horizon! In two words: - Tribunal of the Seventeenth, busy under howling Galleries; Prussian - Brunswick, “over a space of forty miles,” with his war-tumbrils, and - sleeping thunders, and Briarean “sixty-six thousand”<a - href="#linknote-517" name="linknoteref-517" - id="linknoteref-517">[517]</a> right-hands,—coming, coming! - </p> - - <p> - O Heavens, in these latter days of August, he is come! Durosoy was not - yet guillotined when news had come that the Prussians were harrying and - ravaging about Metz; in some four days more, one hears that Longwi, our - first strong-place on the borders, is fallen “in fifteen hours.” Quick, - therefore, O ye improvised Municipals; quick, and ever quicker!—The - improvised Municipals make front to this also. Enrolment urges itself; - and clothing, and arming. Our very officers have now “wool epaulettes;” - for it is the reign of Equality, and also of Necessity. Neither do men - now <i>monsieur</i> and <i>sir</i> one another; <i>citoyen</i> (citizen) - were suitabler; we even say <i>thou</i>, as “the free peoples of - Antiquity did:” so have Journals and the Improvised Commune suggested; - which shall be well. - </p> - - <p> - Infinitely better, meantime, could we suggest, where arms are to be - found. For the present, our <i>Citoyens</i> chant chorally <i>To - arms;</i> and have no arms! Arms are searched for; passionately; there is - joy over any musket. Moreover, entrenchments shall be made round Paris: - on the slopes of Montmartre men dig and shovel; though even the simple - suspect this to be desperate. They dig; Tricolour sashes speak - encouragement and <i>well-speed-ye</i>. Nay finally “twelve Members of - the Legislative go daily,” not to encourage only, but to bear a hand, and - delve: it was decreed with acclamation. Arms shall either be provided; or - else the ingenuity of man crack itself, and become fatuity. Lean - Beaumarchais, thinking to serve the Fatherland, and do a stroke of trade, - in the old way, has commissioned sixty thousand stand of good arms out of - Holland: would to Heaven, for Fatherland’s sake and his, they were come! - Meanwhile railings are torn up; hammered into pikes: chains themselves - shall be welded together, into pikes. The very coffins of the dead are - raised; for melting into balls. All Church-bells must down into the - furnace to make cannon; all Church-plate into the mint to make money. - Also behold the fair swan-bevies of <i>Citoyennes</i> that have alighted - in Churches, and sit there with swan-neck,—sewing tents and - regimentals! Nor are Patriotic Gifts wanting, from those that have aught - left; nor stingily given: the fair Villaumes, mother and daughter, - Milliners in the Rue St.-Martin, give “a silver thimble, and a coin of - fifteen <i>sous</i> (sevenpence halfpenny),” with other similar effects; - and offer, at least the mother does, to mount guard. Men who have not - even a thimble, give a thimbleful,—were it but of invention. One - Citoyen has wrought out the scheme of a wooden cannon; which France shall - exclusively profit by, in the first instance. It is to be made of - <i>staves</i>, by the coopers;—of almost boundless calibre, but - uncertain as to strength! Thus they: hammering, scheming, stitching, - founding, with all their heart and with all their soul. Two bells only - are to remain in each Parish,—for tocsin and other purposes. - </p> - - <p> - But mark also, precisely while the Prussian batteries were playing their - briskest at Longwi in the North-East, and our dastardly Lavergne saw - nothing for it but surrender,—south-westward, in remote, - patriarchal La Vendée, that sour ferment about Nonjuring Priests, after - long working, is ripe, and explodes: at the wrong moment for us! And so - we have “eight thousand Peasants at Châtillon-sur-Sèvre,” who will not be - ballotted for soldiers; will not have their Curates molested. To whom - Bonchamps, Laroche-jaquelins, and Seigneurs enough, of a Royalist turn, - will join themselves; with Stofflets and Charettes; with Heroes and - Chouan Smugglers; and the loyal warmth of a simple people, blown into - flame and fury by theological and seignorial bellows! So that there shall - be fighting from behind ditches, death-volleys bursting out of thickets - and ravines of rivers; huts burning, feet of the pitiful women hurrying - to refuge with their children on their back; seedfields fallow, whitened - with human bones;—“eighty thousand, of all ages, ranks, sexes, - flying at once across the Loire,” with wail borne far on the winds: and, - in brief, for years coming, such a suite of scenes as glorious war has - not offered in these late ages, not since our Albigenses and Crusadings - were over,—save indeed some chance Palatinate, or so, we might have - to “burn,” by way of exception. The “eight thousand at Chatillon” will be - got dispelled for the moment; the fire scattered, not extinguished. To - the dints and bruises of outward battle there is to be added henceforth a - deadlier internal gangrene. - </p> - - <p> - This rising in La Vendée reports itself at Paris on Wednesday the 29th of - August;—just as we had got our Electors elected; and, in spite of - Brunswick’s and Longwi’s teeth, were hoping still to have a National - Convention, if it pleased Heaven. But indeed, otherwise, this Wednesday - is to be regarded as one of the notablest Paris had yet seen: gloomy - tidings come successively, like Job’s messengers; are met by gloomy - answers. Of Sardinia rising to invade the South-East, and Spain - threatening the South, we do not speak. But are not the Prussians masters - of Longwi (treacherously yielded, one would say); and preparing to - besiege Verdun? Clairfait and his Austrians are encompassing Thionville; - darkening the North. Not Metz-land now, but the Clermontais is getting - harried; flying hulans and huzzars have been seen on the Chalons Road, - almost as far as Sainte-Menehould. Heart, ye Patriots, if ye lose heart, - ye lose all! - </p> - - <p> - It is not without a dramatic emotion that one reads in the Parliamentary - Debates of this Wednesday evening “past seven o’clock,” the scene with - the military fugitives from Longwi. Wayworn, dusty, disheartened, these - poor men enter the Legislative, about sunset or after; give the most - pathetic detail of the frightful pass they were in:—Prussians - billowing round by the myriad, volcanically spouting fire for fifteen - hours: we, scattered sparse on the ramparts, hardly a cannoneer to two - guns; our dastard Commandant Lavergne no where shewing face; the priming - would not catch; there was no powder in the bombs,—what could we - do? ‘<i>Mourir!</i> Die!’ answer prompt voices;<a href="#linknote-518" - name="linknoteref-518" id="linknoteref-518">[518]</a> and the dusty - fugitives must shrink elsewhither for comfort.—Yes, <i>Mourir</i>, - that is now the word. Be Longwi a proverb and a hissing among French - strong-places: let it (says the Legislative) be obliterated rather, from - the shamed face of the Earth;—and so there has gone forth Decree, - that Longwi shall, were the Prussians once out of it, “be rased,” and - exist only as ploughed ground. - </p> - - <p> - Nor are the Jacobins milder; as how could they, the flower of Patriotism? - Poor Dame Lavergne, wife of the poor Commandant, took her parasol one - evening, and escorted by her Father came over to the Hall of the mighty - Mother; and “reads a memoir tending to justify the Commandant of Longwi.” - <i>Lafarge, President</i>, makes answer: ‘Citoyenne, the Nation will - judge Lavergne; the Jacobins are bound to tell him the truth. He would - have ended his course there (<i>termine sa carrière</i>), if he had loved - the honour of his country.’<a href="#linknote-519" name="linknoteref-519" - id="linknoteref-519">[519]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0106" id="link2HCH0106"></a> - Chapter 3.1.II.<br/> - Danton. - </h3> - - <p> - But better than rasing of Longwi, or rebuking poor dusty soldiers or - soldiers’ wives, Danton had come over, last night, and demanded a Decree - to <i>search</i> for arms, since they were not yielded voluntarily. Let - “Domiciliary visits,” with rigour of authority, be made to this end. To - search for arms; for horses,—Aristocratism rolls in its carriage, - while Patriotism cannot trail its cannon. To search generally for - munitions of war, “in the houses of persons suspect,”—and even, if - it seem proper, to seize and imprison the suspect persons themselves! In - the Prisons, their plots will be harmless; in the Prisons, they will be - as hostages for us, and not without use. This Decree the energetic - Minister of Justice demanded, last night, and got; and this same night it - is to be executed; it is being executed, at the moment when these dusty - soldiers get saluted with <i>Mourir</i>. Two thousand stand of arms, as - they count, are foraged in this way; and some four hundred head of new - Prisoners; and, on the whole, such a terror and damp is struck through - the Aristocrat heart, as all but Patriotism, and even Patriotism were it - out of this agony, might pity. Yes, Messieurs! if Brunswick blast Paris - to ashes, he probably will blast the Prisons of Paris too: pale Terror, - if we have got it, we will also give it, and the depth of horrors that - lie in it; the same leaky bottom, in these wild waters, bears us all. - </p> - - <p> - One can judge what stir there was now among the “thirty thousand - Royalists:” how the Plotters, or the accused of Plotting, shrank each - closer into his lurking-place,—like Bertrand Moleville, looking - eager towards Longwi, hoping the weather would keep fair. Or how they - dressed themselves in valet’s clothes, like Narbonne, and “got to England - as Dr. Bollman’s famulus:” how Dame de Staël bestirred herself, pleading - with Manuel as a Sister in Literature, pleading even with Clerk Tallien; - a pray to nameless chagrins!<a href="#linknote-520" - name="linknoteref-520" id="linknoteref-520">[520]</a> Royalist Peltier, - the Pamphleteer, gives a touching Narrative (not deficient in height of - colouring) of the terrors of that night. From five in the afternoon, a - great City is struck suddenly silent; except for the beating of drums, - for the tramp of marching feet; and ever and anon the dread thunder of - the knocker at some door, a Tricolor Commissioner with his blue Guards - (<i>black</i>-guards!) arriving. All Streets are vacant, says Peltier; - beset by Guards at each end: all Citizens are ordered to be within doors. - On the River float sentinal barges, lest we escape by water: the Barriers - hermetically closed. Frightful! The sun shines; serenely westering, in - smokeless mackerel-sky: Paris is as if sleeping, as if dead:—Paris - is holding its breath, to see what stroke will fall on it. Poor Peltier! - <i>Acts of Apostles</i>, and all jocundity of Leading-Articles, are gone - out, and it is become bitter earnest instead; polished satire changed now - into coarse pike-points (hammered out of railing); all logic reduced to - this one primitive thesis, An eye for an eye, a tooth for a - tooth!—Peltier, dolefully aware of it, ducks low; escapes unscathed - to England; to urge there the inky war anew; to have Trial by Jury, in - due season, and deliverance by young Whig eloquence, world-celebrated for - a day. - </p> - - <p> - Of “thirty thousand,” naturally, great multitudes were left unmolested: - but, as we said, some four hundred, designated as “persons suspect,” were - seized; and an unspeakable terror fell on all. Wo to him who is guilty of - Plotting, of Anticivism, Royalism, Feuillantism; who, guilty or not - guilty, has an enemy in his Section to call him guilty! Poor old M. de - Cazotte is seized, his young loved Daughter with him, refusing to quit - him. Why, O Cazotte, wouldst thou quit romancing, and <i>Diable - Amoureux</i>, for such reality as this? Poor old M. de Sombreuil, he of - the <i>Invalides</i>, is seized: a man seen askance, by Patriotism ever - since the Bastille days: whom also a fond Daughter will not quit. With - young tears hardly suppressed, and old wavering weakness rousing itself - once more—O my brothers, O my sisters! - </p> - - <p> - The famed and named go; the nameless, if they have an accuser. Necklace - Lamotte’s Husband is in these Prisons (<i>she</i> long since squelched on - the London Pavements); but gets delivered. Gross de Morande, of the - <i>Courier de l’Europe</i>, hobbles distractedly to and fro there: but - they let him hobble out; on right nimble crutches;—his hour not - being yet come. Advocate Maton de la Varenne, very weak in health, is - snatched off from mother and kin; Tricolor Rossignol (journeyman - goldsmith and scoundrel lately, a risen man now) remembers an old - Pleading of Maton’s! Jourgniac de Saint-Méard goes; the brisk frank - soldier: he was in the Mutiny of Nancy, in that “effervescent Regiment du - Roi,”—on the wrong side. Saddest of all: Abbé Sicard goes; a Priest - who could not take the Oath, but who could teach the Deaf and Dumb: in - his Section one man, he says, had a grudge at him; one man, at the fit - hour, launches an arrest against him; which hits. In the Arsenal quarter, - there are dumb hearts making wail, with signs, with wild gestures; he - their miraculous healer and speech-bringer is rapt away. - </p> - - <p> - What with the arrestments on this night of the Twenty-ninth, what with - those that have gone on more or less, day and night, ever since the - Tenth, one may fancy what the Prisons now were. Crowding and Confusion; - jostle, hurry, vehemence and terror! Of the poor Queen’s Friends, who had - followed her to the Temple and been committed elsewhither to Prison, - some, as Governess de Tourzelle, are to be let go: one, the poor Princess - de Lamballe, is not let go; but waits in the strong-rooms of La Force - there, what will betide further. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Among so many hundreds whom the launched arrest hits, who are rolled off - to Townhall or Section-hall, to preliminary Houses of detention, and - hurled in thither, as into cattle-pens, we must mention one other: Caron - de Beaumarchais, Author of <i>Figaro;</i> vanquisher of Maupeou - Parlements and Goezman helldogs; once numbered among the demigods; and - now—? We left him in his culminant state; what dreadful decline is - this, when we again catch a glimpse of him! “At midnight” (it was but the - 12th of August yet), “the servant, in his shirt,” with wide-staring eyes, - enters your room:—Monsieur, rise; all the people are come to seek - you; they are knocking, like to break in the door! “And they were in fact - knocking in a terrible manner (<i>d’une façon terrible</i>). I fling on - my coat, forgetting even the waistcoat, nothing on my feet but slippers; - and say to him”—And <i>he</i>, alas, answers mere negatory - incoherences, panic interjections. And through the shutters and crevices, - in front or rearward, the dull street-lamps disclose only streetfuls of - haggard countenances; clamorous, bristling with pikes: and you rush - distracted for an outlet, finding none;—and have to take refuge in - the crockery-press, down stairs; and stand there, palpitating in that - imperfect costume, lights dancing past your key-hole, tramp of feet - overhead, and the tumult of Satan, “for four hours and more!” And old - ladies, of the quarter, started up (as we hear next morning); rang for - their <i>bonnes</i> and cordial-drops, with shrill interjections: and old - gentlemen, in their shirts, “leapt garden-walls;” flying, while none - pursued; one of whom unfortunately broke his leg.<a href="#linknote-521" - name="linknoteref-521" id="linknoteref-521">[521]</a> Those sixty - thousand stand of Dutch arms (which never arrive), and the bold stroke of - trade, have turned out so ill!— - </p> - - <p> - Beaumarchais escaped for this time; but not for the next time, ten days - after. On the evening of the Twenty-ninth he is still in that chaos of - the Prisons, in saddest, wrestling condition; unable to get justice, even - to get audience; “Panis scratching his head” when you speak to him, and - making off. Nevertheless let the lover of Figaro know that Procureur - Manuel, a Brother in Literature, found him, and delivered him once more. - But how the lean demigod, now shorn of his splendour, had to lurk in - barns, to roam over harrowed fields, panting for life; and to wait under - eavesdrops, and sit in darkness “on the Boulevard amid paving-stones and - boulders,” longing for one word of any Minister, or Minister’s Clerk, - about those accursed Dutch muskets, and getting none,—with heart - fuming in spleen, and terror, and suppressed canine-madness: alas, how - the swift sharp hound, once fit to be Diana’s, breaks his old teeth now, - gnawing mere whinstones; and must “fly to England;” and, returning from - England, must creep into the corner, and lie quiet, toothless - (moneyless),—all this let the lover of Figaro fancy, and weep for. - We here, without weeping, not without sadness, wave the withered tough - fellow-mortal our farewell. His Figaro has returned to the French stage; - nay is, at this day, sometimes named the best piece there. And indeed, so - long as Man’s Life can ground itself only on artificiality and aridity; - each new Revolt and Change of Dynasty turning up only a new stratum of - <i>dry-rubbish</i>, and no <i>soil</i> yet coming to view,—may it - not be good to protest against such a Life, in many ways, and even in the - Figaro way? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0107" id="link2HCH0107"></a> - Chapter 3.1.III.<br/> - Dumouriez. - </h3> - - <p> - Such are the last days of August, 1792; days gloomy, disastrous, and of - evil omen. What will become of this poor France? Dumouriez rode from the - Camp of Maulde, eastward to Sedan, on Tuesday last, the 28th of the - month; reviewed that so-called Army left forlorn there by Lafayette: the - forlorn soldiers gloomed on him; were heard growling on him, ‘This is one - of them, <i>ce b—e là</i>, that made War be declared.’<a - href="#linknote-522" name="linknoteref-522" - id="linknoteref-522">[522]</a> Unpromising Army! Recruits flow in, - filtering through Dépôt after Dépôt; but recruits merely: in want of all; - happy if they have so much as arms. And Longwi has fallen basely; and - Brunswick, and the Prussian King, with his sixty thousand, will beleaguer - Verdun; and Clairfait and Austrians press deeper in, over the Northern - marches: “a hundred and fifty thousand” as fear counts, “eighty thousand” - as the returns shew, do hem us in; Cimmerian Europe behind them. There is - Castries-and-Broglie chivalry; Royalist foot “in red facing and nankeen - trousers;” breathing death and the gallows. - </p> - - <p> - And lo, finally! at Verdun on Sunday the 2d of September 1792, Brunswick - is here. With his King and sixty thousand, glittering over the heights, - from beyond the winding Meuse River, he looks down on us, on our “high - citadel” and all our confectionery-ovens (for we are celebrated for - confectionery) has sent courteous summons, in order to spare the effusion - of blood!—Resist him to the death? Every day of retardation - precious? How, O General Beaurepaire (asks the amazed Municipality) shall - we resist him? We, the Verdun Municipals, see no resistance possible. Has - he not sixty thousand, and artillery without end? Retardation, Patriotism - is good; but so likewise is peaceable baking of pastry, and sleeping in - whole skin.—Hapless Beaurepaire stretches out his hands, and pleads - passionately, in the name of country, honour, of Heaven and of Earth: to - no purpose. The Municipals have, by law, the power of ordering - it;—with an Army officered by Royalism or Crypto-Royalism, such a - Law seemed needful: and they order it, as pacific Pastrycooks, not as - heroic Patriots would,—To surrender! Beaurepaire strides home, with - long steps: his valet, entering the room, sees him “writing eagerly,” and - withdraws. His valet hears then, in a few minutes, the report of a - pistol: Beaurepaire is lying dead; his eager writing had been a brief - suicidal farewell. In this manner died Beaurepaire, wept of France; - buried in the Pantheon, with honourable pension to his Widow, and for - Epitaph these words, <i>He chose Death rather than yield to Despots</i>. - The Prussians, descending from the heights, are peaceable masters of - Verdun. - </p> - - <p> - And so Brunswick advances, from stage to stage: who shall now stay - him,—covering forty miles of country? Foragers fly far; the - villages of the North-East are harried; your Hessian forager has only - “three sous a day:” the very Emigrants, it is said, will take - silver-plate,—by way of revenge. Clermont, Sainte-Menehould, - Varennes especially, ye Towns of the <i>Night of Spurs;</i> tremble ye! - Procureur Sausse and the Magistracy of Varennes have fled; brave Boniface - Le Blanc of the <i>Bras d’Or</i> is to the woods: Mrs. Le Blanc, a young - woman fair to look upon, with her young infant, has to live in greenwood, - like a beautiful Bessy Bell of Song, her bower thatched with - rushes;—catching premature rheumatism.<a href="#linknote-523" - name="linknoteref-523" id="linknoteref-523">[523]</a> Clermont may ring - the tocsin now, and illuminate itself! Clermont lies at the foot of its - <i>Cow</i> (or <i>Vache</i>, so they name that Mountain), a prey to the - Hessian spoiler: its fair women, fairer than most, are robbed: not of - life, or what is dearer, yet of all that is cheaper and portable; for - Necessity, on three half-pence a-day, has no law. At Saint-Menehould, the - enemy has been expected more than once,—our Nationals all turning - out in arms; but was not yet seen. Post-master Drouet, he is not in the - woods, but minding his Election; and will sit in the Convention, notable - King-taker, and bold Old-Dragoon as he is. - </p> - - <p> - Thus on the North-East all roams and runs; and on a set day, the - <i>date</i> of which is irrecoverable by History, Brunswick “has engaged - to dine in Paris,”—the Powers willing. And at Paris, in the centre, - it is as we saw; and in La Vendée, South-West, it is as we saw; and - Sardinia is in the South-East, and Spain is in the South, and Clairfait - with Austria and sieged Thionville is in the North;—and all France - leaps distracted, like the winnowed Sahara waltzing in sand-colonnades! - More desperate posture no country ever stood in. A country, one would - say, which the Majesty of Prussia (if it so pleased him) might partition, - and clip in pieces, like a Poland; flinging the remainder to poor Brother - Louis,—with directions to keep it quiet, or else <i>we</i> will - keep it for him! - </p> - - <p> - Or perhaps the Upper Powers, minded that a new Chapter in Universal - History shall begin here and not further on, may have ordered it all - otherwise? In that case, Brunswick will not dine in Paris on the set day; - nor, indeed, one knows not when!—Verily, amid this wreckage, where - poor France seems grinding itself down to dust and bottomless ruin, who - knows what miraculous salient-point of Deliverance and New-life may have - already come into existence there; and be already working there, though - as yet human eye discern it not! On the night of that same twenty-eighth - of August, the unpromising Review-day in Sedan, Dumouriez assembles a - Council of War at his lodgings there. He spreads out the map of this - forlorn war-district: Prussians here, Austrians there; triumphant both, - with broad highway, and little hinderance, all the way to Paris; we, - scattered helpless, here and here: what to advise? The Generals, - strangers to Dumouriez, look blank enough; know not well what to - advise,—if it be not retreating, and retreating till our recruits - accumulate; till perhaps the chapter of chances turn up some leaf for us; - or Paris, at all events, be sacked at the latest day possible. The - Many-counselled, who “has not closed an eye for three nights,” listens - with little speech to these long cheerless speeches; merely watching the - speaker that he may know him; then wishes them all good-night;—but - beckons a certain young Thouvenot, the fire of whose looks had pleased - him, to wait a moment. Thouvenot waits: <i>Voilà</i>, says Polymetis, - pointing to the map! That is the Forest of Argonne, that long stripe of - rocky Mountain and wild Wood; forty miles long; with but five, or say - even three practicable Passes through it: this, for they have forgotten - it, might one not still seize, though Clairfait sits so nigh? Once - seized;—the Champagne called the Hungry (or worse, Champagne - <i>Pouilleuse</i>) on their side of it; the fat Three Bishoprics, and - willing France, on ours; and the Equinox-rains not far;—this - Argonne “might be the Thermopylae of France!”<a href="#linknote-524" - name="linknoteref-524" id="linknoteref-524">[524]</a> - </p> - - <p> - O brisk Dumouriez Polymetis with thy teeming head, may the gods grant - it!—Polymetis, at any rate, folds his map together, and flings - himself on bed; resolved to try, on the morrow morning. With astucity, - with swiftness, with audacity! One had need to be a lion-fox, and have - luck on one’s side. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0108" id="link2HCH0108"></a> - Chapter 3.1.IV.<br/> - September in Paris. - </h3> - - <p> - At Paris, by lying Rumour which proved prophetic and veridical, the fall - of Verdun was known some hours <i>before</i> it happened. It is Sunday - the second of September; handiwork hinders not the speculations of the - mind. Verdun gone (though some still deny it); the Prussians in full - march, with gallows-ropes, with fire and faggot! Thirty thousand - Aristocrats within our own walls; and but the merest quarter-tithe of - them yet put in Prison! Nay there goes a word that even these will - revolt. Sieur Jean Julien, wagoner of Vaugirard,<a href="#linknote-525" - name="linknoteref-525" id="linknoteref-525">[525]</a> being set in the - Pillory last Friday, took all at once to crying, That he would be well - revenged ere long; that the King’s Friends in Prison would burst out; - force the Temple, set the King on horseback; and, joined by the - unimprisoned, ride roughshod over us all. This the unfortunate wagoner of - Vaugirard did bawl, at the top of his lungs: when snatched off to the - Townhall, he persisted in it, still bawling; yesternight, when they - guillotined him, he died with the froth of it on his lips.<a - href="#linknote-526" name="linknoteref-526" - id="linknoteref-526">[526]</a> For a man’s mind, padlocked to the - Pillory, may go mad; and all men’s minds may go mad; and “believe him,” - as the frenetic will do, “<i>because</i> it is impossible.” - </p> - - <p> - So that apparently the knot of the crisis, and last agony of France is - come? Make front to this, thou Improvised Commune, strong Danton, - whatsoever man is strong! Readers can judge whether the Flag of Country - in Danger flapped soothing or distractively on the souls of men, that - day. - </p> - - <p> - But the Improvised Commune, but strong Danton is not wanting, each after - his kind. Huge Placards are getting plastered to the walls; at two - o’clock the stormbell shall be sounded, the alarm-cannon fired; all Paris - shall rush to the Champ-de-Mars, and have itself enrolled. Unarmed, - truly, and undrilled; but desperate, in the strength of frenzy. Haste, ye - men; ye very women, offer to mount guard and shoulder the brown musket: - weak clucking-hens, in a state of desperation, will fly at the muzzle of - the mastiff, and even conquer him,—by vehemence of character! - Terror itself, when once grown transcendental, becomes a kind of courage; - as frost sufficiently intense, according to Poet Milton, will - <i>burn</i>.—Danton, the other night, in the Legislative Committee - of General Defence, when the other Ministers and Legislators had all - opined, said, It would not do to quit Paris, and fly to Saumur; that they - must abide by Paris; and take such attitude as would put their enemies in - fear,—<i>faire peur;</i> a word of his which has been often - repeated, and reprinted—in italics.<a href="#linknote-527" - name="linknoteref-527" id="linknoteref-527">[527]</a> - </p> - - <p> - At two of the clock, Beaurepaire, as we saw, has shot himself at Verdun; - and over Europe, mortals are going in for afternoon sermon. But at Paris, - all steeples are clangouring not for sermon; the alarm-gun booming from - minute to minute; Champ-de-Mars and Fatherland’s Altar boiling with - desperate terror-courage: what a <i>miserere</i> going up to Heaven from - this once Capital of the Most Christian King! The Legislative sits in - alternate awe and effervescence; Vergniaud proposing that Twelve shall go - and dig personally on Montmartre; which is decreed by acclaim. - </p> - - <p> - But better than digging personally with acclaim, see Danton - enter;—the black brows clouded, the colossus-figure tramping heavy; - grim energy looking from all features of the rugged man! Strong is that - grim Son of France, and Son of Earth; a Reality and not a Formula he too; - and surely now if ever, being hurled <i>low</i> enough, it is on the - Earth and on Realities that he rests. ‘Legislators!’ so speaks the - stentor-voice, as the Newspapers yet preserve it for us, ‘it is not the - alarm-cannon that you hear: it is the <i>pas-de-charge</i> against our - enemies. To conquer them, to hurl them back, what do we require? <i>Il - nous faut de l’audace, et encore de l’audace, et toujours de - l’audace</i>, To dare, and again to dare, and without end to dare!’<a - href="#linknote-528" name="linknoteref-528" - id="linknoteref-528">[528]</a>—Right so, thou brawny Titan; there - is nothing left for thee but that. Old men, who heard it, will still tell - you how the reverberating voice made all hearts swell, in that moment; - and braced them to the sticking-place; and thrilled abroad over France, - like electric virtue, as a word spoken in season. - </p> - - <p> - But the Commune, enrolling in the Champ-de-Mars? But the Committee of - Watchfulness, become now Committee of Public Salvation; whose conscience - is Marat? The Commune enrolling enrolls many; provides Tents for them in - that Mars’-Field, that they may march with dawn on the morrow: praise to - this part of the Commune! To Marat and the Committee of Watchfulness not - praise;—not even blame, such as could be meted out in these - insufficient dialects of ours; expressive silence rather! Lone Marat, the - man forbid, meditating long in his Cellars of refuge, on his Stylites - Pillar, could see salvation in one thing only: in the fall of “two - hundred and sixty thousand Aristocrat heads.” With so many score of - Naples Bravoes, each a dirk in his right-hand, a muff on his left, he - would traverse France, and do it. But the world laughed, mocking the - severe-benevolence of a People’s-Friend; and his idea could not become an - action, but only a fixed-idea. Lo, now, however, he has come down from - his Stylites Pillar, to a <i>Tribune particulière;</i> here now, without - the dirks, without the muffs at least, were it not grown - possible,—now in the knot of the crisis, when salvation or - destruction hangs in the hour! - </p> - - <p> - The Ice-Tower of Avignon was noised of sufficiently, and lives in all - memories; but the authors were not punished: nay we saw Jourdan - Coupe-tete, borne on men’s shoulders, like a copper Portent, “traversing - the cities of the South.”—What phantasms, squalid-horrid, shaking - their dirk and muff, may dance through the brain of a Marat, in this - dizzy pealing of tocsin-miserere, and universal frenzy, seek not to - guess, O Reader! Nor what the cruel Billaud “in his short brown coat was - thinking;” nor Sergent, not yet <i>Agate</i>-Sergent; nor Panis the - confident of Danton;—nor, in a word, how gloomy Orcus does breed in - her gloomy womb, and fashion her monsters, and prodigies of Events, which - thou seest her visibly bear! Terror is on these streets of Paris; terror - and rage, tears and frenzy: tocsin-miserere pealing through the air; - fierce desperation rushing to battle; mothers, with streaming eyes and - wild hearts, sending forth their sons to die. “Carriage-horses are seized - by the bridle,” that they may draw cannon; “the traces cut, the carriages - left standing.” In such tocsin-miserere, and murky bewilderment of - Frenzy, are not Murder, Ate, and all Furies near at hand? On slight hint, - who knows on how slight, may not Murder come; and, with <i>her</i> - snaky-sparkling hand, illuminate this murk! - </p> - - <p> - How it was and went, what part might be premeditated, what was improvised - and accidental, man will never know, till the great Day of Judgment make - it known. But with a Marat for keeper of the Sovereign’s - Conscience—And we know what the <i>ultima ratio</i> of Sovereigns, - when they are driven to it, is! In this Paris there are as many wicked - men, say a hundred or more, as exist in all the Earth: to be hired, and - set on; to set on, of their own accord, unhired.—And yet we will - remark that premeditation itself is not performance, is not surety of - performance; that it is perhaps, at most, surety of <i>letting</i> - whosoever wills perform. From the purpose of crime to the act of crime - there is an abyss; wonderful to think of. The finger lies on the pistol; - but the man is not yet a murderer: nay, his whole nature staggering at - such consummation, is there not a confused pause rather,—one last - instant of possibility for him? Not yet a murderer; it is at the mercy of - light trifles whether the most fixed idea may not yet become unfixed. One - slight twitch of a muscle, the death flash bursts; and he is it, and will - for Eternity be it;—and Earth has become a penal Tartarus for him; - his horizon girdled now not with golden hope, but with red flames of - remorse; voices from the depths of Nature sounding, Wo, wo on him! - </p> - - <p> - Of such stuff are we all made; on such powder-mines of bottomless guilt - and criminality, “if God restrained not; as is well said,—does the - purest of us walk. There are depths in man that go the length of lowest - Hell, as there are heights that reach highest Heaven;—for are not - both Heaven and Hell made out of him, made by him, everlasting Miracle - and Mystery as he is?—But looking on this Champ-de-Mars, with its - tent-buildings, and frantic enrolments; on this murky-simmering Paris, - with its crammed Prisons (supposed about to burst), with its - tocsin-miserere, its mothers’ tears, and soldiers’ farewell - shoutings,—the pious soul might have prayed, that day, that God’s - grace would restrain, and greatly restrain; lest on slight hest or hint, - Madness, Horror and Murder rose, and this Sabbath-day of September became - a Day black in the Annals of Men.— - </p> - - <p> - The tocsin is pealing its loudest, the clocks inaudibly striking - <i>Three</i>, when poor Abbé Sicard, with some thirty other Nonjurant - Priests, in six carriages, fare along the streets, from their preliminary - House of Detention at the Townhall, westward towards the Prison of the - Abbaye. Carriages enough stand deserted on the streets; these six move - on,—through angry multitudes, cursing as they move. Accursed - Aristocrat Tartuffes, this is the pass ye have brought us to! And now ye - will break the Prisons, and set Capet Veto on horseback to ride over us? - Out upon you, Priests of Beelzebub and Moloch; of Tartuffery, Mammon, and - the Prussian Gallows,—which ye name Mother-Church and God! Such - reproaches have the poor Nonjurants to endure, and worse; spoken in on - them by frantic Patriots, who mount even on the carriage-steps; the very - Guards hardly refraining. Pull up your carriage-blinds!—No! answers - Patriotism, clapping its horny paw on the carriage blind, and crushing it - down again. Patience in oppression has limits: we are close on the - Abbaye, it has lasted long: a poor Nonjurant, of quicker temper, smites - the horny paw with his cane; nay, finding solacement in it, smites the - unkempt head, sharply and again more sharply, twice over,—seen - clearly of us and of the world. It is the last that we see clearly. Alas, - next moment, the carriages are locked and blocked in endless raging - tumults; in yells deaf to the cry for mercy, which answer the cry for - mercy with sabre-thrusts through the heart.<a href="#linknote-529" - name="linknoteref-529" id="linknoteref-529">[529]</a> The thirty Priests - are torn out, are massacred about the Prison-Gate, one after - one,—only the poor Abbé Sicard, whom one Moton a watchmaker, - knowing him, heroically tried to save, and secrete in the Prison, escapes - to tell;—and it is Night and Orcus, and Murder’s snaky-sparkling - head <i>has</i> risen in the murk!— - </p> - - <p> - From Sunday afternoon (exclusive of intervals, and pauses not final) till - Thursday evening, there follow consecutively a Hundred Hours. Which - hundred hours are to be reckoned with the hours of the Bartholomew - Butchery, of the Armagnac Massacres, Sicilian Vespers, or whatsoever is - savagest in the annals of this world. Horrible the hour when man’s soul, - in its paroxysm, spurns asunder the barriers and rules; and shews what - dens and depths are in it! For Night and Orcus, as we say, as was long - prophesied, have burst forth, here in this Paris, from their subterranean - imprisonment: hideous, dim, confused; which it is painful to look on; and - yet which cannot, and indeed which should not, be forgotten. - </p> - - <p> - The Reader, who looks earnestly through this dim Phantasmagory of the - Pit, will discern few fixed certain objects; and yet still a few. He will - observe, in this Abbaye Prison, the sudden massacre of the Priests being - once over, a strange Court of Justice, or call it Court of Revenge and - Wild-Justice, swiftly fashion itself, and take seat round a table, with - the Prison-Registers spread before it;—Stanislas Maillard, - Bastille-hero, famed Leader of the Menads, presiding. O Stanislas, one - hoped to meet thee elsewhere than here; thou shifty Riding-Usher, with an - inkling of Law! This work also thou hadst to do; and then—to depart - for ever from our eyes. At <i>La Force</i>, at the <i>Châtelet</i>, the - <i>Conciergerie</i>, the like Court forms itself, with the like - accompaniments: the thing that one man does other men can do. There are - some Seven Prisons in Paris, full of Aristocrats with - conspiracies;—nay not even <i>Bicêtre</i> and <i>Salpêtrière</i> - shall escape, with their Forgers of Assignats: and there are seventy - times seven hundred Patriot hearts in a state of frenzy. Scoundrel hearts - also there are; as perfect, say, as the Earth holds,—if such are - needed. To whom, in this mood, law is as no-law; and killing, by what - name soever called, is but work to be done. - </p> - - <p> - So sit these sudden Courts of Wild-Justice, with the Prison-Registers - before them; unwonted wild tumult howling all round: the Prisoners in - dread expectancy within. Swift: a name is called; bolts jingle, a - Prisoner is there. A few questions are put; swiftly this sudden Jury - decides: Royalist Plotter or not? Clearly not; in that case, Let the - Prisoner be enlarged With <i>Vive la Nation</i>. Probably yea; then - still, Let the Prisoner be enlarged, but without <i>Vive la Nation;</i> - or else it may run, Let the prisoner be conducted to La Force. At La - Force again their formula is, Let the Prisoner be conducted to the - Abbaye.—‘To La Force then!’ Volunteer bailiffs seize the doomed - man; he is at the outer gate; “enlarged,” or “conducted,”—not into - La Force, but into a howling sea; forth, under an arch of wild sabres, - axes and pikes; and sinks, hewn asunder. And another sinks, and another; - and there forms itself a piled heap of corpses, and the kennels begin to - run red. Fancy the yells of these men, their faces of sweat and blood; - the crueller shrieks of these women, for there are women too; and a - fellow-mortal hurled naked into it all! Jourgniac de Saint Méard has seen - battle, has seen an effervescent Regiment du Roi in mutiny; but the - bravest heart may quail at this. The Swiss Prisoners, remnants of the - Tenth of August, “clasped each other spasmodically,” and hung back; grey - veterans crying: ‘Mercy Messieurs; ah, mercy!’ But there was no mercy. - Suddenly, however, one of these men steps forward. He had a blue frock - coat; he seemed to be about thirty, his stature was above common, his - look noble and martial. ‘I go first,’ said he, ‘since it must be so: - adieu!’ Then dashing his hat sharply behind him: ‘Which way?’ cried he to - the Brigands: ‘Shew it me, then.’ They open the folding gate; he is - announced to the multitude. He stands a moment motionless; then plunges - forth among the pikes, and dies of a thousand wounds.”<a - href="#linknote-530" name="linknoteref-530" - id="linknoteref-530">[530]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Man after man is cut down; the sabres need sharpening, the killers - refresh themselves from wine jugs. Onward and onward goes the butchery; - the loud yells wearying down into bass growls. A sombre-faced, shifting - multitude looks on; in dull approval, or dull disapproval; in dull - recognition that it is Necessity. “An <i>Anglais</i> in drab greatcoat” - was seen, or seemed to be seen, serving liquor from his own - dram-bottle;—for what purpose, “if not set on by Pitt,” Satan and - himself know best! Witty Dr. Moore grew sick on approaching, and turned - into another street.<a href="#linknote-531" name="linknoteref-531" - id="linknoteref-531">[531]</a>—Quick enough goes this Jury-Court; - and rigorous. The brave are not spared, nor the beautiful, nor the weak. - Old M. de Montmorin, the Minister’s Brother, was acquitted by the - Tribunal of the Seventeenth; and conducted back, elbowed by howling - galleries; but is not acquitted here. Princess de Lamballe has lain down - on bed: ‘Madame, you are to be removed to the Abbaye.’ ‘I do not wish to - remove; I am well enough here.’ There is a need-be for removing. She will - arrange her dress a little, then; rude voices answer, ‘You have not far - to go.’ She too is led to the hell-gate; a manifest Queen’s-Friend. She - shivers back, at the sight of bloody sabres; but there is no return: - Onwards! That fair hindhead is cleft with the axe; the neck is severed. - That fair body is cut in fragments; with indignities, and obscene horrors - of moustachio <i>grands-lèvres</i>, which human nature would fain find - incredible,—which shall be read in the original language only. She - was beautiful, she was good, she had known no happiness. Young hearts, - generation after generation, will think with themselves: O worthy of - worship, thou king-descended, god-descended and poor sister-woman! why - was not I there; and some Sword Balmung, or Thor’s Hammer in my hand? Her - head is fixed on a pike; paraded under the windows of the Temple; that a - still more hated, a Marie-Antoinette, may see. One Municipal, in the - Temple with the Royal Prisoners at the moment, said, ‘Look out.’ Another - eagerly whispered, ‘Do not look.’ The circuit of the Temple is guarded, - in these hours, by a long stretched tricolor riband: terror enters, and - the clangour of infinite tumult: hitherto not regicide, though that too - may come. - </p> - - <p> - But it is more edifying to note what thrillings of affection, what - fragments of wild virtues turn up, in this shaking asunder of man’s - existence, for of these too there is a proportion. Note old Marquis - Cazotte: he is doomed to die; but his young Daughter clasps him in her - arms, with an inspiration of eloquence, with a love which is stronger - than very death; the heart of the killers themselves is touched by it; - the old man is spared. Yet he was guilty, if plotting for his King is - guilt: in ten days more, a Court of Law condemned him, and he had to die - elsewhere; bequeathing his Daughter a lock of his old grey hair. Or note - old M. de Sombreuil, who also had a Daughter:—My Father is not an - Aristocrat; O good gentlemen, I will swear it, and testify it, and in all - ways prove it; we are not; we hate Aristocrats! ‘Wilt thou drink - Aristocrats’ blood?’ The man lifts blood (if universal Rumour can be - credited);<a href="#linknote-532" name="linknoteref-532" - id="linknoteref-532">[532]</a> the poor maiden does drink. ‘This - Sombreuil is innocent then!’ Yes indeed,—and now note, most of all, - how the bloody pikes, at this news, do rattle to the ground; and the - tiger-yells become bursts of jubilee over a brother saved; and the old - man and his daughter are clasped to bloody bosoms, with hot tears, and - borne home in triumph of <i>Vive la Nation</i>, the killers refusing even - money! Does it seem strange, this temper of theirs? It seems very - certain, well proved by Royalist testimony in other instances;<a - href="#linknote-533" name="linknoteref-533" - id="linknoteref-533">[533]</a> and very significant. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0109" id="link2HCH0109"></a> - Chapter 3.1.V.<br/> - A Trilogy. - </h3> - - <p> - As all Delineation, in these ages, were it never so Epic, “speaking - itself and not singing itself,” must either found on Belief and provable - Fact, or have no foundation at all (nor except as floating cobweb any - existence at all),—the Reader will perhaps prefer to take a glance - with the very eyes of eye-witnesses; and see, in that way, for himself, - how it was. Brave Jourgniac, innocent Abbé Sicard, judicious Advocate - Maton, these, greatly compressing themselves, shall speak, each an - instant. Jourgniac’s <i>Agony of Thirty-eight Hours</i> went through - “above a hundred editions,” though intrinsically a poor work. Some - portion of it may here go through above the hundred-and-first, for want - of a better. - </p> - - <p> - “<i>Towards seven o’clock</i>” (Sunday night, at the Abbaye; for - Jourgniac goes by dates): “We saw two men enter, their hands bloody and - armed with sabres; a turnkey, with a torch, lighted them; he pointed to - the bed of the unfortunate Swiss, Reding. Reding spoke with a dying - voice. One of them paused; but the other cried <i>Allons donc;</i> lifted - the unfortunate man; carried him out on his back to the street. He was - massacred there. - </p> - - <p> - “We all looked at one another in silence, we clasped each other’s hands. - Motionless, with fixed eyes, we gazed on the pavement of our prison; on - which lay the moonlight, checkered with the triple stancheons of our - windows. - </p> - - <p> - “<i>Three in the morning:</i> They were breaking-in one of the - prison-doors. We at first thought they were coming to kill us in our - room; but heard, by voices on the staircase, that it was a room where - some Prisoners had barricaded themselves. They were all butchered there, - as we shortly gathered. - </p> - - <p> - “<i>Ten o’clock:</i> The Abbé Lenfant and the Abbé de Chapt-Rastignac - appeared in the pulpit of the Chapel, which was our prison; they had - entered by a door from the stairs. They said to us that our end was at - hand; that we must compose ourselves, and receive their last blessing. An - electric movement, not to be defined, threw us all on our knees, and we - received it. These two whitehaired old men, blessing us from their place - above; death hovering over our heads, on all hands environing us; the - moment is never to be forgotten. Half an hour after, they were both - massacred, and we heard their cries.”<a href="#linknote-534" - name="linknoteref-534" id="linknoteref-534">[534]</a>—Thus - Jourgniac in his <i>Agony</i> in the Abbaye. - </p> - - <p> - But now let the good Maton speak, what he, over in La Force, in the same - hours, is suffering and witnessing. This <i>Résurrection</i> by him is - greatly the best, the least theatrical of these Pamphlets; and stands - testing by documents: - </p> - - <p> - “Towards seven o’clock,” on Sunday night, “prisoners were called - frequently, and they did not reappear. Each of us reasoned in his own - way, on this singularity: but our ideas became calm, as we persuaded - ourselves that the Memorial I had drawn up for the National Assembly was - producing effect. - </p> - - <p> - “At one in the morning, the grate which led to our quarter opened anew. - Four men in uniform, each with a drawn sabre and blazing torch, came up - to our corridor, preceded by a turnkey; and entered an apartment close to - ours, to investigate a box there, which we heard them break up. This - done, they stept into the gallery, and questioned the man Cuissa, to know - where Lamotte (Necklace’s Widower) was. Lamotte, they said, had some - months ago, under pretext of a treasure he knew of, swindled a sum of - three-hundred livres from one of them, inviting him to dinner for that - purpose. The wretched Cuissa, now in their hands, who indeed lost his - life this night, answered trembling, That he remembered the fact well, - but could not tell what was become of Lamotte. Determined to find Lamotte - and confront him with Cuissa, they rummaged, along with this latter, - through various other apartments; but without effect, for we heard them - say: ‘Come search among the corpses then: for, <i>nom de Dieu!</i> we - must find where he is.’ - </p> - - <p> - “At this time, I heard Louis Bardy, the Abbé Bardy’s name called: he was - brought out; and directly massacred, as I learnt. He had been accused, - along with his concubine, five or six years before, of having murdered - and cut in pieces his own Brother, Auditor of the <i>Chambre des - Comptes</i> of Montpelier; but had by his subtlety, his dexterity, nay - his eloquence, outwitted the judges, and escaped. - </p> - - <p> - “One may fancy what terror these words, ‘Come search among the corpses - then,’ had thrown me into. I saw nothing for it now but resigning myself - to die. I wrote my last-will; concluding it by a petition and adjuration, - that the paper should be sent to its address. Scarcely had I quitted the - pen, when there came two other men in uniform; one of them, whose arm and - sleeve up to the very shoulder, as well as the sabre, were covered with - blood, said, He was as weary as a hodman that had been beating plaster. - </p> - - <p> - “Baudin de la Chenaye was called; sixty years of virtues could not save - him. They said, ‘<i>À l’Abbaye:</i>’ he passed the fatal outer-gate; gave - a cry of terror, at sight of the heaped corpses; covered his eyes with - his hands, and died of innumerable wounds. At every new opening of the - grate, I thought I should hear my own name called, and see Rossignol - enter. - </p> - - <p> - “I flung off my nightgown and cap; I put on a coarse unwashed shirt, a - worn frock without waistcoat, an old round hat; these things I had sent - for, some days ago, in the fear of what might happen. - </p> - - <p> - “The rooms of this corridor had been all emptied but ours. We were four - together; whom they seemed to have forgotten: we addressed our prayers in - common to the Eternal to be delivered from this peril. - </p> - - <p> - “Baptiste the turnkey came up by himself, to see us. I took him by the - hands; I conjured him to save us; promised him a hundred louis, if he - would conduct me home. A noise coming from the grates made him hastily - withdraw. - </p> - - <p> - “It was the noise of some dozen or fifteen men, armed to the teeth; as - we, lying flat to escape being seen, could see from our windows: ‘Up - stairs!’ said they: ‘Let not one remain.’ I took out my penknife; I - considered where I should strike myself,”—but reflected “that the - blade was too short,” and also “on religion.” - </p> - - <p> - Finally, however, between seven and eight o’clock in the morning, enter - four men with bludgeons and sabres!—“to one of whom Gerard my - comrade whispered, earnestly, apart. During their colloquy I searched - every where for shoes, that I might lay off the Advocate pumps - (<i>pantoufles de Palais</i>) I had on,” but could find - none.—“Constant, called le Sauvage, Gerard, and a third whose name - escapes me, they let clear off: as for me, four sabres were crossed over - my breast, and they led me down. I was brought to their bar; to the - Personage with the scarf, who sat as judge there. He was a lame man, of - tall lank stature. He recognised me on the streets, and spoke to me seven - months after. I have been assured that he was son of a retired attorney, - and named Chepy. Crossing the Court called <i>Des Nourrices</i>, I saw - Manuel haranguing in tricolor scarf.” The trial, as we see, ends in - acquittal and <i>resurrection</i>.<a href="#linknote-535" - name="linknoteref-535" id="linknoteref-535">[535]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Poor Sicard, from the <i>violon</i> of the Abbaye, shall say but a few - words; true-looking, though tremulous. Towards three in the morning, the - killers bethink them of this little <i>violon;</i> and knock from the - court. “I tapped gently, trembling lest the murderers might hear, on the - opposite door, where the Section Committee was sitting: they answered - gruffly that they had no key. There were three of us in this - <i>violon;</i> my companions thought they perceived a kind of loft - overhead. But it was very high; only one of us could reach it, by - mounting on the shoulders of both the others. One of them said to me, - that my life was usefuller than theirs: I resisted, they insisted: no - denial! I fling myself on the neck of these two deliverers; never was - scene more touching. I mount on the shoulders of the first, then on those - of the second, finally on the loft; and address to my two comrades the - expression of a soul overwhelmed with natural emotions.<a - href="#linknote-536" name="linknoteref-536" - id="linknoteref-536">[536]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The two generous companions, we rejoice to find, did not perish. But it - is time that Jourgniac de Saint-Méard should speak his last words, and - end this singular trilogy. The night had become day; and the day has - again become night. Jourgniac, worn down with uttermost agitation, has - fallen asleep, and had a cheering dream: he has also contrived to make - acquaintance with one of the volunteer bailiffs, and spoken in native - Provençal with him. On Tuesday, about one in the morning, his - <i>Agony</i> is reaching its crisis. - </p> - - <p> - “By the glare of two torches, I now descried the terrible tribunal, where - lay my life or my death. The President, in grey coats, with a sabre at - his side, stood leaning with his hands against a table, on which were - papers, an inkstand, tobacco-pipes and bottles. Some ten persons were - around, seated or standing; two of whom had jackets and aprons: others - were sleeping stretched on benches. Two men, in bloody shirts, guarded - the door of the place; an old turnkey had his hand on the lock. In front - of the President, three men held a Prisoner, who might be about sixty” - (or seventy: he was old Marshal Maillé, of the Tuileries and August - Tenth). “They stationed me in a corner; my guards crossed their sabres on - my breast. I looked on all sides for my Provençal: two National Guards, - one of them drunk, presented some appeal from the Section of Croix Rouge - in favour of the Prisoner; the Man in Grey answered: ‘They are useless, - these appeals for traitors.’ Then the Prisoner exclaimed: ‘It is - frightful; your judgment is a murder.’ The President answered; ‘My hands - are washed of it; take M. Maillé away.’ They drove him into the street; - where, through the opening of the door, I saw him massacred. - </p> - - <p> - “The President sat down to write; registering, I suppose, the name of - this one whom they had finished; then I heard him say: ‘Another, <i>À un - autre!</i>’ - </p> - - <p> - “Behold me then haled before this swift and bloody judgment-bar, where - the best protection was to have no protection, and all resources of - ingenuity became null if they were not founded on truth. Two of my guards - held me each by a hand, the third by the collar of my coat. ‘Your name, - your profession?’ said the President. ‘The smallest lie ruins you,’ added - one of the judges,—‘My name is Jourgniac Saint-Méard; I have - served, as an officer, twenty years: and I appear at your tribunal with - the assurance of an innocent man, who therefore will not lie.’—‘We - shall see that,’ said the President: ‘Do you know why you are - arrested?’—‘Yes, Monsieur le President; I am accused of editing the - Journal <i>De la Cour et de la Ville</i>. But I hope to prove the - falsity’”— - </p> - - <p> - But no; Jourgniac’s proof of the falsity, and defence generally, though - of excellent result as a defence, is not interesting to read. It is - long-winded; there is a loose theatricality in the reporting of it, which - does not amount to unveracity, yet which tends that way. We shall suppose - him successful, beyond hope, in proving and disproving; and skip - largely,—to the catastrophe, almost at two steps. - </p> - - <p> - “‘But after all,’ said one of the Judges, ‘there is no smoke without - kindling; tell us why they accuse you of that.’—‘I was about to do - so’”—Jourgniac does so; with more and more success. - </p> - - <p> - “‘Nay,’ continued I, ‘they accuse me even of recruiting for the - Emigrants!’ At these words there arose a general murmur. ‘O Messieurs, - Messieurs,’ I exclaimed, raising my voice, ‘it is my turn to speak; I beg - M. le President to have the kindness to maintain it for me; I never - needed it more.’—‘True enough, true enough,’ said almost all the - judges with a laugh: ‘Silence!’ - </p> - - <p> - “While they were examining the testimonials I had produced, a new - Prisoner was brought in, and placed before the President. ‘It was one - Priest more,’ they said, ‘whom they had ferreted out of the Chapelle.’ - After very few questions: ‘<i>À la Force!</i>’ He flung his breviary on - the table: was hurled forth, and massacred. I reappeared before the - tribunal. - </p> - - <p> - “‘You tell us always,’ cried one of the judges, with a tone of - impatience, ‘that you are not this, that you are not that: what are you - then?’—‘I was an open Royalist.’—There arose a general - murmur; which was miraculously appeased by another of the men, who had - seemed to take an interest in me: ‘We are not here to judge opinions,’ - said he, ‘but to judge the results of them.’ Could Rousseau and Voltaire - both in one, pleading for me, have said better?—‘Yes, Messieurs,’ - cried I, ‘always till the Tenth of August, I was an open Royalist. Ever - since the Tenth of August that cause has been finished. I am a Frenchman, - true to my country. I was always a man of honour.’ - </p> - - <p> - “‘My soldiers never distrusted me. Nay, two days before that business of - Nanci, when their suspicion of their officers was at its height, they - chose me for commander, to lead them to Lunéville, to get back the - prisoners of the Regiment Mestre-de-Camp, and seize General Malseigne.’” - Which fact there is, most luckily, an individual present who by a certain - token can confirm. - </p> - - <p> - “The President, this cross-questioning being over, took off his hat and - said: ‘I see nothing to suspect in this man; I am for granting him his - liberty. Is that your vote?’ To which all the judges answered: ‘<i>Oui, - oui;</i> it is just!’” - </p> - - <p> - And there arose vivats within doors and without; “escort of three,” amid - shoutings and embracings: thus Jourgniac escaped from jury-trial and the - jaws of death.<a href="#linknote-537" name="linknoteref-537" - id="linknoteref-537">[537]</a> Maton and Sicard did, either by trial, and - no bill found, lank President Chepy finding “absolutely nothing;” or else - by evasion, and new favour of Moton the brave watchmaker, likewise - escape; and were embraced, and wept over; weeping in return, as they well - might. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus they three, in wondrous trilogy, or triple soliloquy; uttering - simultaneously, through the dread night-watches, their - Night-thoughts,—grown audible to us! They Three are become audible: - but the other “Thousand and Eighty-nine, of whom Two Hundred and Two were - Priests,” who also had Night-thoughts, remain inaudible; choked for ever - in black Death. Heard only of President Chepy and the Man in Grey!— - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0110" id="link2HCH0110"></a> - Chapter 3.1.VI.<br/> - The Circular. - </h3> - - <p> - But the Constituted Authorities, all this while? The Legislative - Assembly; the Six Ministers; the Townhall; Santerre with the National - Guard?—It is very curious to think what a City is. Theatres, to the - number of some twenty-three, were open every night during these - prodigies: while right-arms here grew weary with slaying, right-arms - there are twiddledeeing on melodious catgut; at the very instant when - Abbé Sicard was clambering up his second pair of shoulders, three-men - high, five hundred thousand human individuals were lying horizontal, as - if nothing were amiss. - </p> - - <p> - As for the poor Legislative, the sceptre had departed from it. The - Legislative did send Deputation to the Prisons, to the Street-Courts; and - poor M. Dusaulx did harangue there; but produced no conviction - whatsoever: nay, at last, as he continued haranguing, the Street-Court - interposed, not without threats; and he had to cease, and withdraw. This - is the same poor worthy old M. Dusaulx who told, or indeed almost sang - (though with cracked voice), the <i>Taking of the Bastille</i>,—to - our satisfaction long since. He was wont to announce himself, on such and - on all occasions, as <i>the Translator of Juvenal</i>. ‘Good Citizens, - you see before you a man who loves his country, who is the Translator of - Juvenal,’ said he once.—‘Juvenal?’ interrupts Sansculottism: ‘who - the devil is Juvenal? One of your <i>sacrés Aristocrates?</i> To the - <i>Lanterne!</i>’ From an orator of this kind, conviction was not to be - expected. The Legislative had much ado to save one of its own Members, or - Ex-Members, Deputy Journeau, who chanced to be lying in arrest for mere - Parliamentary delinquencies, in these Prisons. As for poor old Dusaulx - and Company, they returned to the Salle de Manége, saying, ‘It was dark; - and they could not see well what was going on.’<a href="#linknote-538" - name="linknoteref-538" id="linknoteref-538">[538]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Roland writes indignant messages, in the name of Order, Humanity, and the - Law; but there is no Force at his disposal. Santerre’s National Force - seems lazy to rise; though he made requisitions, he says,—which - always dispersed again. Nay did not we, with Advocate Maton’s eyes, see - ‘men in uniform,’ too, with their ‘sleeves bloody to the shoulder?’ - Pétion goes in tricolor scarf; speaks ‘the austere language of the law:’ - the killers give up, while he is there; when his back is turned, - recommence. Manuel too in scarf we, with Maton’s eyes, transiently saw - haranguing, in the Court called of Nurses, <i>Cour des Nourrices</i>. On - the other hand, cruel Billaud, likewise in scarf, “with that small puce - coat and black wig we are used to on him,”<a href="#linknote-539" - name="linknoteref-539" id="linknoteref-539">[539]</a> audibly delivers, - “standing among corpses,” at the Abbaye, a short but ever-memorable - harangue, reported in various phraseology, but always to this purpose: - ‘Brave Citizens, you are extirpating the Enemies of Liberty; you are at - your duty. A grateful Commune, and Country, would wish to recompense you - adequately; but cannot, for you know its want of funds. Whoever shall - have worked (<i>travaillé</i>) in a Prison shall receive a draft of one - louis, payable by our cashier. Continue your work.’<a - href="#linknote-540" name="linknoteref-540" - id="linknoteref-540">[540]</a>—The Constituted Authorities are of - yesterday; all pulling different ways: there is properly not Constituted - Authority, but every man is his own King; and all are kinglets, - belligerent, allied, or armed-neutral, without king over them. - </p> - - <p> - “O everlasting infamy,” exclaims Montgaillard, “that Paris stood looking - on in stupor for four days, and did not interfere!” Very desirable indeed - that Paris had interfered; yet not unnatural that it stood even so, - looking on in stupor. Paris is in death-panic, the enemy and gibbets at - its door: whosoever in Paris has the heart to front death finds it more - pressing to do it fighting the Prussians, than fighting the killers of - Aristocrats. Indignant abhorrence, as in Roland, may be here; gloomy - sanction, premeditation or not, as in Marat and Committee of Salvation, - may be there; dull disapproval, dull approval, and acquiescence in - Necessity and Destiny, is the general temper. The Sons of Darkness, “two - hundred or so,” risen from their lurking-places, have scope to do their - work. Urged on by fever-frenzy of Patriotism, and the madness of - Terror;—urged on by lucre, and the gold louis of wages? Nay, not - lucre: for the gold watches, rings, money of the Massacred, are - punctually brought to the Townhall, by Killers sans-indispensables, who - higgle afterwards for their twenty shillings of wages; and Sergent - sticking an uncommonly fine agate on his finger (“fully meaning to - account for it”), becomes <i>Agate</i>-Sergent. But the temper, as we - say, is dull acquiescence. Not till the Patriotic or Frenetic part of the - work is finished for want of material; and Sons of Darkness, bent clearly - on lucre alone, begin wrenching watches and purses, brooches from ladies’ - necks “to equip volunteers,” in daylight, on the streets,—does the - temper from dull grow vehement; does the Constable raise his truncheon, - and striking heartily (like a cattle-driver in earnest) beat the “course - of things” back into its old regulated drove-roads. The - <i>Garde-Meuble</i> itself was surreptitiously plundered, on the 17th of - the Month, to Roland’s new horror; who anew bestirs himself, and is, as - Sieyes says, “the veto of scoundrels,” Roland <i>veto des coquins</i>.<a - href="#linknote-541" name="linknoteref-541" - id="linknoteref-541">[541]</a>— - </p> - - <p> - This is the September Massacre, otherwise called “Severe Justice of the - People.” These are the Septemberers (<i>Septembriseurs</i>); a name of - some note and lucency,—but lucency of the Nether-fire sort; very - different from that of our Bastille Heroes, who shone, disputable by no - Friend of Freedom, as in heavenly light-radiance: to such phasis of the - business have we advanced since then! The numbers massacred are, in - Historical <i>fantasy</i>, “between two and three thousand;” or indeed - they are “upwards of six thousand,” for Peltier (in vision) saw them - massacring the very patients of the Bicêtre Madhouse “with grape-shot;” - nay finally they are “twelve thousand” and odd hundreds,—not more - than that.<a href="#linknote-542" name="linknoteref-542" - id="linknoteref-542">[542]</a> In Arithmetical ciphers, and Lists drawn - up by accurate Advocate Maton, the number, including two hundred and two - priests, three “persons unknown,” and “one thief killed at the - Bernardins,” is, as above hinted, a Thousand and Eighty-nine,—no - less than that. - </p> - - <p> - A thousand and eighty-nine lie dead, “two hundred and sixty heaped - carcasses on the Pont au Change” itself;—among which, Robespierre - pleading afterwards will “nearly weep” to reflect that there was said to - be one slain innocent.<a href="#linknote-543" name="linknoteref-543" - id="linknoteref-543">[543]</a> One; not two, O thou seagreen - Incorruptible? If so, Themis Sansculotte must be lucky; for she was - brief!—In the dim Registers of the Townhall, which are preserved to - this day, men read, with a certain sickness of heart, items and entries - not usual in Town Books: “To workers employed in preserving the salubrity - of the air in the Prisons, and persons “who presided over these dangerous - operations,” so much,—in various items, nearly seven hundred pounds - sterling. To carters employed to “the Burying-grounds of Clamart, - Montrouge, and Vaugirard,” at so much a journey, per cart; this also is - an entry. Then so many francs and odd sous “for the necessary quantity of - quick-lime!”<a href="#linknote-544" name="linknoteref-544" - id="linknoteref-544">[544]</a> Carts go along the streets; full of stript - human corpses, thrown pellmell; limbs sticking up:—seest thou that - cold Hand sticking up, through the heaped embrace of brother corpses, in - its yellow paleness, in its cold rigour; the palm opened towards Heaven, - as if in dumb prayer, in expostulation <i>de profundis</i>, Take pity on - the Sons of Men!—Mercier saw it, as he walked down “the Rue - Saint-Jacques from Montrouge, on the morrow of the Massacres:” but not a - Hand; it was a Foot,—which he reckons still more significant, one - understands not well why. Or was it as the Foot of one <i>spurning</i> - Heaven? Rushing, like a wild diver, in disgust and despair, towards the - depths of Annihilation? Even there shall His hand find thee, and His - right-hand hold thee,—surely for right not for wrong, for good not - evil! “I saw that Foot,” says Mercier; “I shall know it again at the - great Day of Judgment, when the Eternal, throned on his thunders, shall - judge both Kings and Septemberers.”<a href="#linknote-545" - name="linknoteref-545" id="linknoteref-545">[545]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - That a shriek of inarticulate horror rose over this thing, not only from - French Aristocrats and Moderates, but from all Europe, and has prolonged - itself to the present day, was most natural and right. The thing lay - done, irrevocable; a thing to be counted besides some other things, which - lie very black in our Earth’s Annals, yet which will not erase therefrom. - For man, as was remarked, has transcendentalisms in him; standing, as he - does, poor creature, every way “in the confluence of Infinitudes;” a - mystery to himself and others: in the centre of two Eternities, of three - Immensities,—in the intersection of primeval Light with the - everlasting dark! Thus have there been, especially by vehement tempers - reduced to a state of desperation, very miserable things done. Sicilian - Vespers, and “eight thousand slaughtered in two hours,” are a known - thing. Kings themselves, not in desperation, but only in difficulty, have - sat hatching, for year and day (nay De Thou says, for seven years), their - Bartholomew Business; and then, at the right moment, also on an Autumn - Sunday, this very Bell (they say it is the identical metal) of St. - Germain l’Auxerrois was set a-pealing—with effect.<a - href="#linknote-546" name="linknoteref-546" - id="linknoteref-546">[546]</a> Nay the same black boulder-stones of these - Paris Prisons have seen Prison-massacres before now; men massacring - countrymen, Burgundies massacring Armagnacs, whom they had suddenly - imprisoned, till as now there are piled heaps of carcasses, and the - streets ran red;—the Mayor Pétion of the time speaking the austere - language of the law, and answered by the Killers, in old French (it is - some four hundred years old): ‘<i>Maugré bieu, Sire</i>,—Sir, God’s - malison on your justice, your pity, your right reason. Cursed be of God - whoso shall have pity on these false traitorous Armagnacs, English; dogs - they are; they have destroyed us, wasted this realm of France, and sold - it to the English.’<a href="#linknote-547" name="linknoteref-547" - id="linknoteref-547">[547]</a> And so they slay, and fling aside the - slain, to the extent of “fifteen hundred and eighteen, among whom are - found four Bishops of false and damnable counsel, and two Presidents of - Parlement.” For though it is not Satan’s world this that we live in, - Satan always has his place in it (underground properly); and from time to - time bursts up. Well may mankind shriek, inarticulately anathematising as - they can. There are actions of such emphasis that no shrieking can be too - emphatic for them. Shriek ye; acted have they. - </p> - - <p> - Shriek who might in this France, in this Paris Legislative or Paris - Townhall, there are Ten Men who do not shriek. A Circular goes out from - the Committee of <i>Salut Public</i>, dated 3rd of September 1792; - directed to all Townhalls: a State-paper too remarkable to be overlooked. - “A part of the ferocious conspirators detained in the Prisons,” it says, - “have been put to death by the People; and it,” the Circular, “cannot - doubt but the whole Nation, driven to the edge of ruin by such endless - series of treasons, will make haste to adopt <i>this</i> means of public - salvation; and all Frenchmen will cry as the men of Paris: We go to fight - the enemy, but we will not leave robbers behind us, to butcher our wives - and children.” To which are legibly appended these signatures: Panis, - Sergent; Marat, Friend of the People;<a href="#linknote-548" - name="linknoteref-548" id="linknoteref-548">[548]</a> with Seven - others;—carried down thereby, in a strange way, to the late - remembrance of Antiquarians. We remark, however, that their Circular - rather recoiled on themselves. The Townhalls made no use of it; even the - distracted Sansculottes made little; they only howled and bellowed, but - did not bite. At Rheims “about eight persons” were killed; and two - afterwards were hanged for doing it. At Lyons, and a few other places, - some attempt was made; but with hardly any effect, being quickly put - down. - </p> - - <p> - Less fortunate were the Prisoners of Orléans; was the good Duke de la - Rochefoucault. He journeying, by quick stages, with his Mother and Wife, - towards the Waters of Forges, or some quieter country, was arrested at - Gisors; conducted along the streets, amid effervescing multitudes, and - killed dead “by the stroke of a paving-stone hurled through the - coach-window.” Killed as a once Liberal now Aristocrat; Protector of - Priests, Suspender of virtuous Pétions, and his unfortunate - Hot-grown-cold, detestable to Patriotism. He dies lamented of Europe; his - blood spattering the cheeks of his old Mother, ninety-three years old. - </p> - - <p> - As for the Orléans Prisoners, they are State Criminals: Royalist - Ministers, Delessarts, Montmorins; who have been accumulating on the High - Court of Orléans, ever since that Tribunal was set up. Whom now it seems - good that we should get transferred to our new Paris Court of the - Seventeenth; which proceeds far quicker. Accordingly hot Fournier from - Martinique, Fournier <i>l’Americain</i>, is off, missioned by Constituted - Authority; with stanch National Guards, with Lazouski the Pole; sparingly - provided with road-money. These, through bad quarters, through - difficulties, perils, for Authorities cross each other in this - time,—do triumphantly bring off the Fifty or Fifty-three Orléans - Prisoners, towards Paris; where a swifter Court of the Seventeenth will - do justice on them.<a href="#linknote-549" name="linknoteref-549" - id="linknoteref-549">[549]</a> But lo, at Paris, in the interim, a still - swifter and swiftest Court of the <i>Second</i>, and of <i>September</i>, - has instituted itself: enter not Paris, or that will judge - you!—What shall hot Fournier do? It was his duty, as volunteer - Constable, had he been a perfect character, to guard those men’s lives - never so Aristocratic, at the expense of his own valuable life never so - Sansculottic, till some Constituted Court had disposed of them. But he - was an imperfect character and Constable; perhaps one of the more - imperfect. - </p> - - <p> - Hot Fournier, ordered to turn thither by one Authority, to turn thither - by another Authority, is in a perplexing multiplicity of orders; but - finally he strikes off for Versailles. His Prisoners fare in tumbrils, or - open carts, himself and Guards riding and marching around: and at the - last village, the worthy Mayor of Versailles comes to meet him, anxious - that the arrival and locking up were well over. It is Sunday, the ninth - day of the month. Lo, on entering the Avenue of Versailles, what - multitudes, stirring, swarming in the September sun, under the dull-green - September foliage; the Four-rowed Avenue all humming and swarming, as if - the Town had emptied itself! Our tumbrils roll heavily through the living - sea; the Guards and Fournier making way with ever more difficulty; the - Mayor speaking and gesturing his persuasivest; amid the inarticulate - growling hum, which growls ever the deeper even by hearing itself growl, - not without sharp yelpings here and there:—Would to God we were out - of this strait place, and wind and separation had cooled the heat, which - seems about igniting here! - </p> - - <p> - And yet if the wide Avenue is too strait, what will the Street <i>de - Surintendance</i> be, at leaving of the same? At the corner of - Surintendance Street, the compressed yelpings became a continuous yell: - savage figures spring on the tumbril-shafts; first spray of an endless - coming tide! The Mayor pleads, pushes, half-desperate; is pushed, carried - off in men’s arms: the savage tide has entrance, has mastery. Amid horrid - noise, and tumult as of fierce wolves, the Prisoners sink - massacred,—all but some eleven, who escaped into houses, and found - mercy. The Prisons, and what other Prisoners they held, were with - difficulty saved. The stript clothes are burnt in bonfire; the corpses - lie heaped in the ditch on the morrow morning.<a href="#linknote-550" - name="linknoteref-550" id="linknoteref-550">[550]</a> All France, except - it be the Ten Men of the Circular and their people, moans and rages, - inarticulately shrieking; all Europe rings. - </p> - - <p> - But neither did Danton shriek; though, as Minister of Justice, it was - more his part to do so. Brawny Danton is in the breach, as of stormed - Cities and Nations; amid the Sweep of Tenth-of-August cannon, the rustle - of Prussian gallows-ropes, the smiting of September sabres; destruction - all round him, and the rushing-down of worlds: Minister of Justice is his - name; but Titan of the Forlorn Hope, and <i>Enfant Perdu</i> of the - Revolution, is his quality,—and the man acts according to that. ‘We - must put our enemies in fear!’ Deep fear, is it not, as of its own - accord, falling on our enemies? The Titan of the Forlorn Hope, he is not - the man that would swiftest of all prevent its so falling. Forward, thou - lost Titan of an <i>Enfant Perdu;</i> thou must dare, and again dare, and - without end dare; there is nothing left for thee but that! ‘<i>Que mon - nom soit flétri</i>, Let my name be blighted:’ what am I? The Cause alone - is great; and shall live, and not perish.—So, on the whole, here - too is a swallower of Formulas; of still wider gulp than Mirabeau: this - Danton, Mirabeau of the Sansculottes. In the September days, this - Minister was not heard of as co-operating with strict Roland; his - business might lie elsewhere,—with Brunswick and the - Hôtel-de-Ville. When applied to by an official person, about the Orleans - Prisoners, and the risks they ran, he answered gloomily, twice over, ‘Are - not these men guilty?’—When pressed, he “answered in a terrible - voice,” and turned his back.<a href="#linknote-551" - name="linknoteref-551" id="linknoteref-551">[551]</a> Two Thousand slain - in the Prisons; horrible if you will: but Brunswick is within a day’s - journey of us; and there are Five-and twenty Millions yet, to slay or to - save. Some men have tasks,—frightfuller than ours! It seems - strange, but is not strange, that this Minister of Moloch-Justice, when - any suppliant for a friend’s life got access to him, was found to have - human compassion; and yielded and granted “always;” “neither did one - personal enemy of Danton perish in these days.”<a href="#linknote-552" - name="linknoteref-552" id="linknoteref-552">[552]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To shriek, we say, when certain things are acted, is proper and - unavoidable. Nevertheless, articulate speech, not shrieking, is the - faculty of man: when speech is not yet possible, let there be, with the - shortest delay, at least—silence. Silence, accordingly, in this - forty-fourth year of the business, and eighteen hundred and thirty-sixth - of an “Era called Christian as <i>lucus à non</i>,” is the thing we - recommend and practise. Nay, instead of shrieking more, it were perhaps - edifying to remark, on the other side, what a singular thing Customs (in - Latin, <i>Mores</i>) are; and how fitly the Virtue, <i>Vir-tus</i>, - Manhood or Worth, that is in a man, is called his <i>Morality</i>, or - <i>Customariness</i>. Fell Slaughter, one the most authentic products of - the Pit you would say, once give it Customs, becomes War, with Laws of - War; and is Customary and Moral enough; and red individuals carry the - tools of it girt round their haunches, not without an air of - pride,—which do thou nowise blame. While, see! so long as it is but - dressed in hodden or russet; and Revolution, less frequent than War, has - not yet got its Laws of Revolution, but the hodden or russet individuals - are Uncustomary—O shrieking beloved brother blockheads of Mankind, - let us close those wide mouths of ours; let us cease shrieking, and begin - considering! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0111" id="link2HCH0111"></a> - Chapter 3.1.VII.<br/> - September in Argonne. - </h3> - - <p> - Plain, at any rate, is one thing: that the <i>fear</i>, whatever of fear - those Aristocrat enemies might need, has been brought about. The matter - is getting serious then! Sansculottism too has become a Fact, and seems - minded to assert itself as such? This huge mooncalf of Sansculottism, - staggering about, as young calves do, is not mockable only, and soft like - another calf; but terrible too, if you prick it; and, through its hideous - nostrils, blows fire!—Aristocrats, with pale panic in their hearts, - fly towards covert; and a light rises to them over several things; or - rather a confused transition towards light, whereby for the moment - darkness is only darker than ever. But, What will become of this France? - Here is a question! France is dancing its desert-waltz, as Sahara does - when the winds waken; in whirlblasts twenty-five millions in number; - waltzing towards Townhalls, Aristocrat Prisons, and Election - Committee-rooms; towards Brunswick and the Frontiers;—towards a New - Chapter of Universal History; if indeed it be not the <i>Finis</i>, and - winding-up of that! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - In Election Committee-rooms there is now no dubiety; but the work goes - bravely along. The Convention is getting chosen,—really in a - decisive spirit; in the Townhall we already date <i>First year of the - Republic</i>. Some Two hundred of our best Legislators may be re-elected, - the Mountain bodily: Robespierre, with Mayor Pétion, Buzot, Curate - Grégoire, Rabaut, some three score Old-Constituents; though we once had - only “thirty voices.” All these; and along with them, friends long known - to Revolutionary fame: Camille Desmoulins, though he stutters in speech; - Manuel, Tallien and Company; Journalists Gorsas, Carra, Mercier, Louvet - of <i>Faublas;</i> Clootz Speaker of Mankind; Collot d’Herbois, tearing a - passion to rags; Fabre d’Eglantine, speculative Pamphleteer; Legendre the - solid Butcher; nay Marat, though rural France can hardly believe it, or - even believe that there <i>is</i> a Marat except in print. Of Minister - Danton, who will lay down his Ministry for a Membership, we need not - speak. Paris is fervent; nor is the Country wanting to itself. Barbaroux, - Rebecqui, and fervid Patriots are coming from Marseilles. Seven hundred - and forty-five men (or indeed forty-nine, for Avignon now sends Four) are - gathering: so many are to meet; not so many are to part! - </p> - - <p> - Attorney Carrier from Aurillac, Ex-Priest Lebon from Arras, these shall - both gain a <i>name</i>. Mountainous Auvergne re-elects her Romme: hardy - tiller of the soil, once Mathematical Professor; who, unconscious, - carries in petto a remarkable <i>New Calendar</i>, with Messidors, - Pluvioses, and such like;—and having given it well forth, shall - depart by the death they call Roman. Sieyes old-Constituent comes; to - make new Constitutions as many as wanted: for the rest, peering out of - his clear cautious eyes, he will cower low in many an emergency, and find - silence safest. Young Saint-Just is coming, deputed by Aisne in the - North; more like a Student than a Senator: not four-and-twenty yet; who - has written Books; a youth of slight stature, with mild mellow voice, - enthusiast olive-complexion, and long dark hair. Féraud, from the far - valley D’Aure in the folds of the Pyrenees, is coming; an ardent - Republican; doomed to fame, at least in death. - </p> - - <p> - All manner of Patriot men are coming: Teachers, Husbandmen, Priests and - Ex-Priests, Traders, Doctors; above all, Talkers, or the - Attorney-species. Man-midwives, as Levasseur of the Sarthe, are not - wanting. Nor Artists: gross David, with the swoln cheek, has long - painted, with genius in a state of convulsion; and will now legislate. - The swoln cheek, choking his words in the birth, totally disqualifies him - as orator; but his pencil, his head, his gross hot heart, with genius in - a state of convulsion, will be there. A man bodily and mentally - swoln-cheeked, disproportionate; flabby-large, instead of great; weak - withal as in a state of convulsion, not strong in a state of composure: - so let him play his part. Nor are naturalised Benefactors of the Species - forgotten: Priestley, elected by the Orne Department, but declining: - Paine the rebellious Needleman, by the Pas de Calais, who accepts. - </p> - - <p> - Few Nobles come, and yet not none. Paul François Barras, “noble as the - Barrases, old as the rocks of Provence;” he is one. The reckless, - shipwrecked man: flung ashore on the coast of the Maldives long ago, - while sailing and soldiering as Indian Fighter; flung ashore since then, - as hungry Parisian Pleasure-hunter and Half-pay, on many a Circe Island, - with temporary enchantment, temporary conversion into beasthood and - hoghood;—the remote Var Department has now sent him hither. A man - of heat and haste; defective in utterance; defective indeed in any thing - to utter; yet not without a certain rapidity of glance, a certain swift - transient courage; who, in these times, Fortune favouring, may go far. He - is tall, handsome to the eye, “only the complexion a little yellow;” but - “with a robe of purple with a scarlet cloak and plume of tricolor, on - occasions of solemnity,” the man will look well.<a href="#linknote-553" - name="linknoteref-553" id="linknoteref-553">[553]</a> Lepelletier - Saint-Fargeau, Old-Constituent, is a kind of noble, and of enormous - wealth; he too has come hither:—to have the Pain of Death - <i>abolished?</i> Hapless Ex-Parlementeer! Nay, among our Sixty - Old-Constituents, see Philippe d’Orléans a Prince of the Blood! Not now - <i>D’Orléans:</i> for, Feudalism being swept from the world, he demands - of his worthy friends the Electors of Paris, to have a new name of their - choosing; whereupon Procureur Manuel, like an antithetic literary man, - recommends <i>Equality</i>, Egalité. A Philippe Egalité therefore will - sit; seen of the Earth and Heaven. - </p> - - <p> - Such a Convention is gathering itself together. Mere angry poultry in - moulting season; whom Brunswick’s grenadiers and cannoneers will give - short account of. Would the weather only mend a little!<a - href="#linknote-554" name="linknoteref-554" - id="linknoteref-554">[554]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In vain, O Bertrand! The weather will not mend a whit:—nay even if - it did? Dumouriez Polymetis, though Bertrand knows it not, started from - brief slumber at Sedan, on that morning of the 29th of August; with - stealthiness, with promptitude, audacity. Some three mornings after that, - Brunswick, opening wide eyes, perceives the Passes of the Argonne all - seized; blocked with felled trees, fortified with camps; and that it is a - most shifty swift Dumouriez this, who has outwitted him! - </p> - - <p> - The manœuvre may cost Brunswick “a loss of three weeks,” very fatal in - these circumstances. A Mountain-wall of forty miles lying between him and - Paris: which he should have preoccupied;—which how now to get - possession of? Also the rain it raineth every day; and we are in a hungry - Champagne Pouilleuse, a land flowing only with ditch-water. How to cross - this Mountain-wall of the Argonne; or what in the world to do with - it?—there are marchings and wet splashings by steep paths, with - <i>sackerments</i> and guttural interjections; forcings of Argonne - Passes,—which unhappily will not force. Through the woods, - volleying War reverberates, like huge gong-music, or Moloch’s kettledrum, - borne by the echoes; swoln torrents boil angrily round the foot of rocks, - floating pale carcasses of men. In vain! Islettes Village, with its - church-steeple, rises intact in the Mountain-pass, between the embosoming - heights; your forced marchings and climbings have become forced slidings, - and tumblings back. From the hill-tops thou seest nothing but dumb crags, - and endless wet moaning woods; the Clermont <i>Vache</i> (huge Cow that - she is) disclosing herself<a href="#linknote-555" name="linknoteref-555" - id="linknoteref-555">[555]</a> at intervals; flinging off her - cloud-blanket, and soon taking it on again, drowned in the pouring - Heaven. The Argonne Passes will not force: you must <i>skirt</i> the - Argonne; go round by the end of it. - </p> - - <p> - But fancy whether the Emigrant Seigneurs have not got their brilliancy - dulled a little; whether that “Foot Regiment in red-facings with nankeen - trousers” could be in field-day order! In place of gasconading, a sort of - desperation, and hydrophobia from <i>excess</i> of water, is threatening - to supervene. Young Prince de Ligne, son of that brave literary De Ligne - the Thundergod of Dandies, fell backwards; shot dead in Grand-Pré, the - Northmost of the Passes: Brunswick is skirting and rounding, laboriously, - by the extremity of the South. Four days; days of a rain as of - Noah,—without fire, without food! For fire you cut down green - trees, and produce smoke; for food you eat green grapes, and produce - colic, pestilential dysentery, - ὀλέκοντο δὲ - λαοί. And the Peasants assassinate us, they do not - join us; shrill women cry shame on us, threaten to draw their very - scissors on us! O ye hapless dulled-bright Seigneurs, and hydrophobic - splashed Nankeens;—but O, ten times more, ye poor - <i>sackerment</i>ing ghastly-visaged Hessians and Hulans, fallen on your - backs; who had no call to die there, except compulsion and - three-halfpence a-day! Nor has Mrs. Le Blanc of the Golden Arm a good - time of it, in her bower of dripping rushes. Assassinating Peasants are - hanged; Old-Constituent Honourable members, though of venerable age, ride - in carts with their hands tied; these are the woes of war. - </p> - - <p> - Thus they; sprawling and wriggling, far and wide, on the slopes and - passes of the Argonne;—a loss to Brunswick of five-and-twenty - disastrous days. There is wriggling and struggling; facing, backing, and - right-about facing; as the positions shift, and the Argonne gets partly - rounded, partly forced:—but still Dumouriez, force him, round him - as you will, sticks like a rooted fixture on the ground; fixture with - many <i>hinges;</i> wheeling now this way, now that; shewing always new - front, in the most unexpected manner: nowise consenting to take himself - away. Recruits stream up on him: full of heart; yet rather difficult to - deal with. Behind Grand-Pré, for example, Grand-Pré which is on the - wrong-side of the Argonne, for we are now forced and rounded,—the - full heart, in one of those wheelings and shewings of new front, did as - it were overset itself, as full hearts are liable to do; and there rose a - shriek of <i>sauve qui peut</i>, and a death-panic which had nigh ruined - all! So that the General had to come galloping; and, with thunder-words, - with gesture, stroke of drawn sword even, check and rally, and bring back - the sense of shame;<a href="#linknote-556" name="linknoteref-556" - id="linknoteref-556">[556]</a>—nay to seize the first shriekers and - ringleaders; “shave their heads and eyebrows,” and pack them forth into - the world as a sign. Thus too (for really the rations are short, and wet - camping with hungry stomach brings bad humour) there is like to be - mutiny. Whereupon again Dumouriez “arrives at the head of their line, - with his staff, and an escort of a hundred huzzars. He had placed some - squadrons behind them, the artillery in front; he said to them: ‘As for - you, for I will neither call you citizens, nor soldiers, nor my men - (<i>ni mes enfans</i>), you see before you this artillery, behind you - this cavalry. You have dishonoured yourselves by crimes. If you amend, - and grow to behave like this brave Army which you have the honour of - belonging to, you will find in me a good father. But plunderers and - assassins I do not suffer here. At the smallest mutiny I will have you - shivered in pieces (<i>hacher en pièces</i>). Seek out the scoundrels - that are among you, and dismiss them yourselves; I hold you responsible - for them.’”<a href="#linknote-557" name="linknoteref-557" - id="linknoteref-557">[557]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Patience, O Dumouriez! This uncertain heap of shriekers, mutineers, were - they once drilled and inured, will become a phalanxed mass of Fighters; - and wheel and whirl, to order, swiftly like the wind or the whirlwind: - tanned mustachio-figures; often barefoot, even bare-backed; with sinews - of iron; who require only bread and gunpowder: very Sons of Fire, the - adroitest, hastiest, hottest ever seen perhaps since Attila’s time. They - may conquer and overrun amazingly, much as that same Attila - did;—whose Attila’s-Camp and Battlefield thou now seest, on this - very ground;<a href="#linknote-558" name="linknoteref-558" - id="linknoteref-558">[558]</a> who, after sweeping bare the world, was, - with difficulty, and days of tough fighting, checked <i>here</i> by Roman - Ætius and Fortune; and his dust-cloud made to vanish in the East - again!— - </p> - - <p> - Strangely enough, in this shrieking Confusion of a Soldiery, which we saw - long since fallen all suicidally out of square in suicidal - collision,—at Nanci, or on the streets of Metz, where brave Bouillé - stood with drawn sword; and which has collided and ground itself to - pieces worse and worse ever since, down now to such a state: in this - shrieking Confusion, and not elsewhere, lies the first germ of returning - Order for France! Round which, we say, poor France nearly all ground down - suicidally likewise into rubbish and Chaos, will be glad to rally; to - begin growing, and new-shaping her inorganic dust: very slowly, through - centuries, through Napoleons, Louis Philippes, and other the like media - and phases,—into a new, infinitely preferable France, we can - hope!— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - These wheelings and movements in the region of the Argonne, which are all - faithfully described by Dumouriez himself, and more interesting to us - than Hoyle’s or Philidor’s best Game of Chess, let us, nevertheless, O - Reader, entirely omit;—and hasten to remark two things: the first a - minute private, the second a large public thing. Our minute private thing - is: the presence, in the Prussian host, in that war-game of the Argonne, - of a certain Man, belonging to the sort called Immortal; who, in days - since then, is becoming visible more and more, in that character, as the - Transitory more and more vanishes; for from of old it was remarked that - when the Gods appear among men, it is seldom in recognisable shape; thus - Admetus“ neatherds give Apollo a draught of their goatskin whey-bottle - (well if they do not give him strokes with their ox-rungs), not dreaming - that he is the Sungod! This man’s name is <i>Johann Wolfgang von - Goethe</i>. He is Herzog Weimar’s Minister, come with the small - contingent of Weimar; to do insignificant unmilitary duty here; very - irrecognizable to nearly all! He stands at present, with drawn bridle, on - the height near Saint-Menehould, making an experiment on the - “cannon-fever;” having ridden thither against persuasion, into the dance - and firing of the cannon-balls, with a scientific desire to understand - what that same cannon-fever may be: “The sound of them,” says he, “is - curious enough; as if it were compounded of the humming of tops, the - gurgling of water and the whistle of birds. By degrees you get a very - uncommon sensation; which can only be described by similitude. It seems - as if you were in some place extremely hot, and at the same time were - completely penetrated by the heat of it; so that you feel as if you and - this element you are in were perfectly on a par. The eyesight loses - nothing of its strength or distinctness; and yet it is as if all things - had got a kind of brown-red colour, which makes the situation and the - objects still more impressive on you.”<a href="#linknote-559" - name="linknoteref-559" id="linknoteref-559">[559]</a> - </p> - - <p> - This is the cannon-fever, as a World-Poet feels it.—A man entirely - irrecognisable! In whose irrecognisable head, meanwhile, there verily is - the spiritual counterpart (and call it complement) of this same huge - Death-Birth of the World; which now effectuates itself, outwardly in the - Argonne, in such cannon-thunder; inwardly, in the irrecognisable head, - quite otherwise than by thunder! Mark that man, O Reader, as the - memorablest of all the memorable in this Argonne Campaign. What we say of - him is not dream, nor flourish of rhetoric; but scientific historic fact; - as many men, now at this distance, see or begin to see. - </p> - - <p> - But the large public thing we had to remark is this: That the Twentieth - of September, 1792, was a raw morning covered with mist; that from three - in the morning Sainte-Menehould, and those Villages and homesteads we - know of old were stirred by the rumble of artillery-wagons, by the - clatter of hoofs, and many footed tramp of men: all manner of military, - Patriot and Prussian, taking up positions, on the Heights of La Lune and - other Heights; shifting and shoving,—seemingly in some dread - chess-game; which may the Heavens turn to good! The Miller of Valmy has - fled dusty under ground; his Mill, were it never so windy, will have rest - today. At seven in the morning the mist clears off: see Kellermann, - Dumouriez’ second in command, with “eighteen pieces of cannon,” and - deep-serried ranks, drawn up round that same silent Windmill, on his - knoll of strength; Brunswick, also, with serried ranks and cannon, - glooming over to him from the height of La Lune; only the little brook - and its little dell now parting them. - </p> - - <p> - So that the much-longed-for has come at last! Instead of hunger and - dysentery, we shall have sharp shot; and then!—Dumouriez, with - force and firm front, looks on from a neighbouring height; can help only - with his wishes, in silence. Lo, the eighteen pieces do bluster and bark, - responsive to the bluster of La Lune; and thunder-clouds mount into the - air; and echoes roar through all dells, far into the depths of Argonne - Wood (deserted now); and limbs and lives of men fly dissipated, this way - and that. Can Brunswick make an impression on them? The dull-bright - Seigneurs stand biting their thumbs: these Sansculottes seem not to fly - like poultry! Towards noontide a cannon-shot blows Kellermann’s horse - from under him; there bursts a powder-cart high into the air, with knell - heard over all: some swagging and swaying observable;—Brunswick - will try! ‘<i>Camarades</i>,’ cries Kellermann, ‘<i>Vive la Patrie! - Allons vaincre pour elle</i>, Let us conquer.’ ‘Live the Fatherland!’ - rings responsive, to the welkin, like rolling-fire from side to side: our - ranks are as firm as rocks; and Brunswick may <i>re</i>cross the dell, - ineffectual; regain his old position on La Lune; not unbattered by the - way. And so, for the length of a September day,—with bluster and - bark; with bellow far echoing! The cannonade lasts till sunset; and no - impression made. Till an hour after sunset, the few remaining Clocks of - the District striking Seven; at this late time of day Brunswick tries - again. With not a whit better fortune! He is met by rock-ranks, by shouts - of <i>Vive la Patrie;</i> and driven back, not unbattered. Whereupon he - ceases; retires “to the Tavern of La Lune;” and sets to raising a redoute - lest <i>he</i> be attacked! - </p> - - <p> - Verily so: ye dulled-bright Seigneurs, make of it what ye may. Ah, and - France does not rise round us in mass; and the Peasants do not join us, - but assassinate us: neither hanging nor any persuasion will induce them! - They have lost their old distinguishing love of King, and - King’s-cloak,—I fear, altogether; and will even fight to be rid of - it: that seems now their humour. Nor does Austria prosper, nor the siege - of Thionville. The Thionvillers, carrying their insolence to the - epigrammatic pitch, have put a Wooden Horse on their walls, with a bundle - of hay hung from him, and this Inscription: “When I finish my hay, you - will take Thionville.”<a href="#linknote-560" name="linknoteref-560" - id="linknoteref-560">[560]</a> To such height has the frenzy of mankind - risen. - </p> - - <p> - The trenches of Thionville may shut: and what though those of Lille open? - The Earth smiles not on us, nor the Heaven; but weeps and blears itself, - in sour rain, and worse. Our very friends insult us; we are wounded in - the house of our friends: ‘His Majesty of Prussia had a greatcoat, when - the rain came; and (contrary to all known laws) he put it on, though our - two French Princes, the hope of their country, had none!’ To which - indeed, as Goethe admits, what answer could be made?<a - href="#linknote-561" name="linknoteref-561" - id="linknoteref-561">[561]</a>—Cold and Hunger and Affront, Colic - and Dysentery and Death; and we here, cowering <i>redouted</i>, most - unredoubtable, amid the “tattered corn-shocks and deformed stubble,” on - the splashy Height of La Lune, round the mean Tavern de La Lune!— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - This is the Cannonade of Valmy; wherein the World-Poet experimented on - the cannon-fever; wherein the French Sansculottes did not fly like - poultry. Precious to France! Every soldier did his duty, and Alsatian - Kellermann (how preferable to old Lückner the dismissed!) began to become - greater; and <i>Égalité Fils</i>, Equality Junior, a light gallant - Field-Officer, distinguished himself by intrepidity:—it is the same - intrepid individual who now, as Louis-Philippe, without the Equality, - struggles, under sad circumstances, to be called King of the French for a - season. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0112" id="link2HCH0112"></a> - Chapter 3.1.VIII.<br/> - Exeunt. - </h3> - - <p> - But this Twentieth of September is otherwise a great day. For, observe, - while Kellermann’s horse was flying blown from under him at the Mill of - Valmy, our new National Deputies, that shall be a NATIONAL CONVENTION, - are hovering and gathering about the Hall of the Hundred Swiss; with - intent to constitute themselves! - </p> - - <p> - On the morrow, about noontide, Camus the Archivist is busy “verifying - their powers;” several hundreds of them already here. Whereupon the Old - Legislative comes solemnly over, to merge its old ashes phœnix-like in - the body of the new;—and so forthwith, returning all solemnly back - to the Salle de Manége, there sits a National Convention, Seven Hundred - and Forty-nine complete, or complete enough; presided by - Pétion;—which proceeds directly to do business. Read that reported - afternoon’s-debate, O Reader; there are few debates like it: dull - reporting <i>Moniteur</i> itself becomes more dramatic than a very - Shakespeare. For epigrammatic Manuel rises, speaks strange things; how - the President shall have a guard of honour, and lodge in the - Tuileries:—<i>rejected</i>. And Danton rises and speaks; and Collot - d’Herbois rises, and Curate Gregoire, and lame Couthon of the Mountain - rises; and in rapid Melibœan stanzas, only a few lines each, they propose - motions not a few: That the corner-stone of our new Constitution is - Sovereignty of the People; that our Constitution shall be accepted by the - People or be null; further that the People ought to be avenged, and have - right Judges; that the Imposts must continue till new order; that Landed - and other Property be sacred forever; finally that “Royalty from this day - is abolished in France:”—<i>Decreed</i> all, before four o’clock - strike, with acclamation of the world!<a href="#linknote-562" - name="linknoteref-562" id="linknoteref-562">[562]</a> The tree was all so - ripe; only shake it and there fall such yellow cart-loads. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And so over in the Valmy Region, as soon as the news come, what stir is - this, audible, visible from our muddy heights of La Lune?<a - href="#linknote-563" name="linknoteref-563" - id="linknoteref-563">[563]</a> Universal shouting of the French on their - opposite hillside; caps raised on bayonets; and a sound as of - <i>République; Vive la République</i> borne dubious on the - winds!—On the morrow morning, so to speak, Brunswick slings his - knapsacks before day, lights any fires he has; and marches without tap of - drum. Dumouriez finds ghastly symptoms in that camp; “<i>latrines</i> - full of blood!”<a href="#linknote-564" name="linknoteref-564" - id="linknoteref-564">[564]</a> The chivalrous King of Prussia, for he as - we saw is here in person, may long rue the day; may look colder than ever - on these dulled-bright Seigneurs, and French Princes their Country’s - hope;—and, on the whole, put on his great-coat without ceremony, - happy that he has one. They retire, all retire with convenient despatch, - through a Champagne trodden into a quagmire, the wild weather pouring on - them; Dumouriez through his Kellermanns and Dillons pricking them a - little in the hinder parts. A little, not much; now pricking, now - negotiating: for Brunswick has his eyes opened; and the Majesty of - Prussia is a repentant Majesty. - </p> - - <p> - Nor has Austria prospered, nor the Wooden Horse of Thionville bitten his - hay; nor Lille City surrendered itself. The Lille trenches opened, on the - 29th of the month; with balls and shells, and redhot balls; as if not - trenches but Vesuvius and the Pit had opened. It was frightful, say all - eye-witnesses; but it is ineffectual. The Lillers have risen to such - temper; especially after these news from Argonne and the East. Not a - Sans-indispensables in Lille that would surrender for a King’s ransom. - Redhot balls rain, day and night; “six-thousand,” or so, and bombs - “filled internally with oil of turpentine which splashes up in - flame;”—mainly on the dwellings of the Sansculottes and Poor; the - streets of the Rich being spared. But the Sansculottes get water-pails; - form quenching-regulations, ‘The ball is in Peter’s house!’ ‘The ball is - in John’s!’ They divide their lodging and substance with each other; - shout <i>Vive la République</i>; and faint not in heart. A ball thunders - through the main chamber of the Hôtel-de-Ville, while the Commune is - there assembled: ‘We are in permanence,’ says one, coldly, proceeding - with his business; and the ball remains permanent too, sticking in the - wall, probably to this day.<a href="#linknote-565" name="linknoteref-565" - id="linknoteref-565">[565]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The Austrian Archduchess (Queen’s Sister) will herself see red artillery - fired; in their over-haste to satisfy an Archduchess “two mortars explode - and kill thirty persons.” It is in vain; Lille, often burning, is always - quenched again; Lille will not yield. The very boys deftly wrench the - matches out of fallen bombs: “a man clutches a rolling ball with his hat, - which takes fire; when cool, they crown it with a <i>bonnet rouge</i>.” - Memorable also be that nimble Barber, who when the bomb burst beside him, - snatched up a shred of it, introduced soap and lather into it, crying, - ‘<i>Voilà mon plat à barbe</i>, My new shaving-dish!’ and shaved - “fourteen people” on the spot. Bravo, thou nimble Shaver; worthy to shave - old spectral Redcloak, and find treasures!—On the eighth day of - this desperate siege, the sixth day of October, Austria finding it - fruitless, draws off, with no pleasurable consciousness; rapidly, - Dumouriez tending thitherward; and Lille too, black with ashes and - smoulder, but jubilant skyhigh, flings its gates open. The <i>Plat à - barbe</i> became fashionable; “no Patriot of an elegant turn,” says - Mercier several years afterwards, “but shaves himself out of the splinter - of a Lille bomb.” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - <i>Quid multa</i>, Why many words? The Invaders are in flight; - Brunswick’s Host, the third part of it gone to death, staggers disastrous - along the deep highways of Champagne; spreading out also into “the - fields, of a tough spongy red-coloured clay;—like Pharaoh through a - Red Sea of mud,” says Goethe; “for he also lay broken chariots, and - riders and foot seemed sinking around.”<a href="#linknote-566" - name="linknoteref-566" id="linknoteref-566">[566]</a> On the eleventh - morning of October, the World-Poet, struggling Northwards out of Verdun, - which he had entered Southwards, some five weeks ago, in quite other - order, discerned the following Phenomenon and formed part of it: - </p> - - <p> - “Towards three in the morning, without having had any sleep, we were - about mounting our carriage, drawn up at the door; when an insuperable - obstacle disclosed itself: for there rolled on already, between the - pavement-stones which were crushed up into a ridge on each side, an - uninterrupted column of sick-wagons through the Town, and all was trodden - as into a morass. While we stood waiting what could be made of it, our - Landlord the Knight of Saint-Louis pressed past us, without salutation.” - He had been a Calonne’s Notable in 1787, an Emigrant since; had returned - to his home, jubilant, with the Prussians; but must now forth again into - the wide world, “followed by a servant carrying a little bundle on his - stick. - </p> - - <p> - “The activity of our alert Lisieux shone eminent; and, on this occasion - too, brought us on: for he struck into a small gap of the wagon-row; and - held the advancing team back till we, with our six and our four horses, - got intercalated; after which, in my light little coachlet, I could - breathe freer. We were now under way; at a funeral pace, but still under - way. The day broke; we found ourselves at the outlet of the Town, in a - tumult and turmoil without measure. All sorts of vehicles, few horsemen, - innumerable foot-people, were crossing each other on the great esplanade - before the Gate. We turned to the right, with our Column, towards Estain, - on a limited highway, with ditches at each side. Self-preservation, in so - monstrous a press, knew now no pity, no respect of aught. Not far before - us there fell down a horse of an ammunition-wagon: they cut the traces, - and let it lie. And now as the three others could not bring their load - along, they cut them also loose, tumbled the heavy-packed vehicle into - the ditch; and, with the smallest retardation, we had to drive on, right - over the horse, which was just about to rise; and I saw too clearly how - its legs, under the wheels, went crashing and quivering. - </p> - - <p> - “Horse and foot endeavoured to escape from the narrow laborious highway - into the meadows: but these too were rained to ruin; overflowed by full - ditches, the connexion of the footpaths every where interrupted. Four - gentlemanlike, handsome, well-dressed French soldiers waded for a time - beside our carriage; wonderfully clean and neat: and had such art of - picking their steps, that their foot-gear testified no higher than the - ancle to the muddy pilgrimage these good people found themselves engaged - in. - </p> - - <p> - “That under such circumstances one saw, in ditches, in meadows, in fields - and crofts, dead horses enough, was natural to the case: by and by, - however, you found them also flayed, the fleshy parts even cut away; sad - token of the universal distress. - </p> - - <p> - “Thus we fared on; every moment in danger, at the smallest stoppage on - our own part, of being ourselves tumbled overboard; under which - circumstances, truly, the careful dexterity of our Lisieux could not be - sufficiently praised. The same talent shewed itself at Estain; where we - arrived towards noon; and descried, over the beautiful well-built little - Town, through streets and on squares, around and beside us, one - sense-confusing tumult: the mass rolled this way and that; and, all - struggling forward, each hindered the other. Unexpectedly our carriage - drew up before a stately house in the market-place; master and mistress - of the mansion saluted us in reverent distance.” Dexterous Lisieux, - though we knew it not, had said we were the King of Prussia’s Brother! - </p> - - <p> - “But now, from the ground-floor windows, looking over the whole - market-place, we had the endless tumult lying, as it were, palpable. All - sorts of walkers, soldiers in uniform, marauders, stout but sorrowing - citizens and peasants, women and children, crushed and jostled each - other, amid vehicles of all forms: ammunition-wagons, baggage-wagons; - carriages, single, double, and multiplex; such hundredfold miscellany of - teams, requisitioned or lawfully owned, making way, hitting together, - hindering each other, rolled here to right and to left. Horned-cattle too - were struggling on; probably herds that had been put in requisition. - Riders you saw few; but the elegant carriages of the Emigrants, - many-coloured, lackered, gilt and silvered, evidently by the best - builders, caught your eye.<a href="#linknote-567" name="linknoteref-567" - id="linknoteref-567">[567]</a> - </p> - - <p> - “The crisis of the strait however arose further on a little; where the - crowded market-place had to introduce itself into a - street,—straight indeed and good, but proportionably far too - narrow. I have, in my life, seen nothing like it: the aspect of it might - perhaps be compared to that of a swoln river which has been raging over - meadows and fields, and is now again obliged to press itself through a - narrow bridge, and flow on in its bounded channel. Down the long street, - all visible from our windows, there swelled continually the strangest - tide: a high double-seated travelling-coach towered visible over the - flood of things. We thought of the fair Frenchwomen we had seen in the - morning. It was not they, however, it was Count Haugwitz; him you could - look at, with a kind of sardonic malice, rocking onwards, step by step, - there.”<a href="#linknote-568" name="linknoteref-568" - id="linknoteref-568">[568]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In such untriumphant Procession has the Brunswick Manifesto issued! Nay - in worse, “in Negotiation with these miscreants,”—the first news of - which produced such a revulsion in the Emigrant nature, as put our - scientific World-Poet “in fear for the wits of several.”<a - href="#linknote-569" name="linknoteref-569" - id="linknoteref-569">[569]</a> There is no help: they must fare on, these - poor Emigrants, angry with all persons and things, and making all persons - angry, in the hapless course they struck into. Landlord and landlady - testify to you, at <i>tables-d’hôte</i>, how insupportable these - Frenchmen are: how, in spite of such humiliation, of poverty and probable - beggary, there is ever the same struggle for precedence, the same - forwardness, and want of discretion. High in honour, at the head of the - table, you with your own eyes observe not a Seigneur but the automaton of - a Seigneur, fallen into dotage; still worshipped, reverently waited on, - and fed. In miscellaneous seats, is a miscellany of soldiers, - commissaries, adventurers; consuming silently their barbarian victuals. - “On all brows is to be read a hard destiny; all are silent, for each has - his own sufferings to bear, and looks forth into misery without bounds.” - One hasty wanderer, coming in, and eating without ungraciousness what is - set before him, the landlord lets off almost scot-free. ‘He is,’ - whispered the landlord to me, ‘the first of these cursed people I have - seen condescend to taste our German black bread.’<a href="#linknote-570" - name="linknoteref-570" id="linknoteref-570">[570]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And Dumouriez is in Paris; lauded and feasted; paraded in glittering - saloons, floods of beautifullest blond-dresses and broadcloth-coats - flowing past him, endless, in admiring joy. One night, nevertheless, in - the splendour of one such scene, he sees himself suddenly apostrophised - by a squalid unjoyful Figure, who has come in <i>un</i>invited, nay - despite of all lackeys; an unjoyful Figure! The Figure is come ‘in - express mission from the Jacobins,’ to inquire sharply, better then than - later, touching certain things: ‘Shaven eyebrows of Volunteer Patriots, - for instance?’ Also ‘your threats of shivering in pieces?’ Also, ‘why you - have not chased Brunswick hotly enough?’ Thus, with sharp croak, inquires - the Figure.—‘<i>Ah, c’est vous qu’on appelle Marat</i>, You are he - they call Marat!’ answers the General, and turns coldly on his heel.<a - href="#linknote-571" name="linknoteref-571" - id="linknoteref-571">[571]</a>—‘Marat!’ The blonde-gowns quiver - like aspens; the dress-coats gather round; Actor Talma (for it is his - house), and almost the very chandelier-lights, are blue: till this - obscene Spectrum, or visual Appearance, vanish back into native Night. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - General Dumouriez, in few brief days, is gone again, towards the - Netherlands; will attack the Netherlands, winter though it be. And - General Montesquiou, on the South-East, has driven in the Sardinian - Majesty; nay, almost without a shot fired, has taken Savoy from him, - which longs to become a piece of the Republic. And General Custine, on - the North-East, has dashed forth on Spires and its Arsenal; and then on - Electoral Mentz, not uninvited, wherein are German Democrats and no - shadow of an Elector now:—so that in the last days of October, Frau - Forster, a daughter of Heyne’s, somewhat democratic, walking out of the - Gate of Mentz with her Husband, finds French Soldiers playing at bowls - with cannon-balls there. Forster trips cheerfully over one iron bomb, - with ‘Live the Republic!’ A black-bearded National Guard answers: - ‘<i>Elle vivra bien sans vous</i>, It will probably live independently of - you!’<a href="#linknote-572" name="linknoteref-572" - id="linknoteref-572">[572]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"></a> - BOOK 3.II.<br/> - REGICIDE - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0113" id="link2HCH0113"></a> - Chapter 3.2.I.<br/> - The Deliberative. - </h3> - - <p> - France therefore has done two things very completely: she has hurled back - her Cimmerian Invaders far over the marches; and likewise she has - shattered her own internal Social Constitution, even to the minutest - fibre of it, into wreck and dissolution. Utterly it is all altered: from - King down to Parish Constable, all Authorities, Magistrates, Judges, - persons that bore rule, have had, on the sudden, to alter themselves, so - far as needful; or else, on the sudden, and not without violence, to be - altered: a Patriot “Executive Council of Ministers,” with a Patriot - Danton in it, and then a whole Nation and National Convention, have taken - care of that. Not a Parish Constable, in the furthest hamlet, who has - said <i>De Par le Roi</i>, and shewn loyalty, but must retire, making way - for a new improved Parish Constable who can say <i>De par la - République.</i> - </p> - - <p> - It is a change such as History must beg her readers to imagine, - <i>un</i>described. An instantaneous change of the whole body-politic, - the soul-politic being all changed; such a change as few bodies, politic - or other, can experience in this world. Say perhaps, such as poor Nymph - Semele’s body did experience, when she would needs, with woman’s humour, - see her Olympian Jove as very Jove;—and so stood, poor Nymph, this - moment Semele, next moment not Semele, but Flame and a Statue of red-hot - Ashes! France has looked upon Democracy; seen it face to face.—The - Cimmerian Invaders will rally, in humbler temper, with better or worse - luck: the wreck and dissolution must reshape itself into a social - Arrangement as it can and may. But as for this National Convention, which - is to settle every thing, if it do, as Deputy Paine and France generally - expects, get all finished “in a few months,” we shall call it a most deft - Convention. - </p> - - <p> - In truth, it is very singular to see how this mercurial French People - plunges suddenly from <i>Vive le Roi</i> to <i>Vive la République;</i> - and goes simmering and dancing; shaking off daily (so to speak), and - trampling into the dust, its old social garnitures, ways of thinking, - rules of existing; and cheerfully dances towards the Ruleless, Unknown, - with such hope in its heart, and nothing but <i>Freedom, Equality and - Brotherhood</i> in its mouth. Is it two centuries, or is it only two - years, since all France roared simultaneously to the welkin, bursting - forth into sound and smoke at its <i>Feast of Pikes</i>, ‘Live the - Restorer of French Liberty?’ Three short years ago there was still - Versailles and an Œil-de-Bœuf: now there is that watched Circuit of the - Temple, girt with dragon-eyed Municipals, where, as in its final limbo, - Royalty lies extinct. In the year 1789, Constituent Deputy Barrère - “wept,” in his <i>Break-of-Day</i> Newspaper, at sight of a reconciled - King Louis; and now in 1792, Convention Deputy Barrère, perfectly - tearless, may be considering, whether the reconciled King Louis shall be - guillotined or not. - </p> - - <p> - Old garnitures and social vestures drop off (we say) so fast, being - indeed quite decayed, and are trodden under the National dance. And the - new vestures, where are they; the new modes and rules? Liberty, Equality, - Fraternity: not vestures but the wish for vestures! The Nation is for the - present, figuratively speaking, <i>naked!</i> It has no rule or vesture; - but is naked,—a Sansculottic Nation. - </p> - - <p> - So far, therefore, in such manner have our Patriot Brissots, Guadets - triumphed. Vergniaud’s Ezekiel-visions of the fall of thrones and crowns, - which he spake hypothetically and prophetically in the Spring of the - year, have suddenly come to fulfilment in the Autumn. Our eloquent - Patriots of the Legislative, like strong Conjurors, by the word of their - mouth, have swept Royalism with its old modes and formulas to the winds; - and shall now govern a France free of formulas. Free of formulas! And yet - man lives not except with formulas; with customs, <i>ways</i> of doing - and living: no text truer than this; which will hold true from the - Tea-table and Tailor’s shopboard up to the High Senate-houses, Solemn - Temples; nay through all provinces of Mind and Imagination, onwards to - the outmost confines of articulate Being,—<i>Ubi homines sunt modi - sunt.</i> There are modes wherever there are men. It is the deepest law - of man’s nature; whereby man is a craftsman and “tool-using animal;” not - the slave of Impulse, Chance, and Brute Nature, but in some measure their - lord. Twenty-five millions of men, suddenly stript bare of their - <i>modi</i>, and dancing them down in that manner, are a terrible thing - to govern! - </p> - - <p> - Eloquent Patriots of the Legislative, meanwhile, have precisely this - problem to solve. Under the name and nickname of “statesmen, <i>hommes - d’état</i>,” of “moderate-men, <i>modérantins</i>,” of Brissotins, - Rolandins, finally of <i>Girondins</i>, they shall become world-famous in - solving it. For the Twenty-five millions are Gallic effervescent - too;—filled both with hope of the unutterable, of universal - Fraternity and Golden Age; and with terror of the unutterable, Cimmerian - Europe all rallying on us. It is a problem like few. Truly, if man, as - the Philosophers brag, did to any extent look before and after, what, one - may ask, in many cases would become of him? What, in this case, would - become of these Seven Hundred and Forty-nine men? The Convention, seeing - clearly before and after, were a paralysed Convention. Seeing clearly to - the length of its own nose, it is not paralysed. - </p> - - <p> - To the Convention itself neither the work nor the method of doing it is - doubtful: To make the Constitution; to defend the Republic till that be - made. Speedily enough, accordingly, there has been a “Committee of the - Constitution” got together. Sieyes, Old-Constituent, Constitution-builder - by trade; Condorcet, fit for better things; Deputy Paine, foreign - Benefactor of the Species, with that “red carbuncled face, and the black - beaming eyes;” Hérault de Séchelles, Ex-Parlementeer, one of the - handsomest men in France: these, with inferior guild-brethren, are girt - cheerfully to the work; will once more “make the Constitution;” let us - hope, more effectually than last time. For that the Constitution can be - made, who doubts,—unless the Gospel of Jean Jacques came into the - world in vain? True, our last Constitution did tumble within the year, so - lamentably. But what then, except sort the rubbish and boulders, and - build them up again better? “Widen your basis,” for one thing,—to - Universal Suffrage, if need be; exclude rotten materials, Royalism and - such like, for another thing. And in brief, <i>build</i>, O unspeakable - Sieyes and Company, unwearied! Frequent perilous downrushing of - scaffolding and rubble-work, be that an irritation, no discouragement. - Start ye always again, clearing aside the wreck; if with broken limbs, - yet with whole hearts; and build, we say, in the name of - Heaven,—till either the work do stand; or else mankind abandon it, - and the Constitution-builders be paid off, with laughter and tears! One - good time, in the course of Eternity, it was appointed that this of - Social Contract too should try itself out. And so the Committee of - Constitution shall toil: with hope and faith;—with no disturbance - from any reader of these pages. - </p> - - <p> - To make the Constitution, then, and return home joyfully in a few months: - this is the prophecy our National Convention gives of itself; by this - scientific program shall its operations and events go on. But from the - best scientific program, in such a case, to the actual fulfilment, what a - difference! Every reunion of men, is it not, as we often say, a reunion - of incalculable Influences; every unit of it a microcosm of - Influences;—of which how shall Science calculate or prophesy! - Science, which cannot, with all its calculuses, differential, integral, - and of variations, calculate the Problem of Three gravitating Bodies, - ought to hold her peace here, and say only: In this National Convention - there are Seven Hundred and Forty-nine very singular Bodies, that - gravitate and do much else;—who, probably in an amazing manner, - will work the appointment of Heaven. - </p> - - <p> - Of National Assemblages, Parliaments, Congresses, which have long sat; - which are of saturnine temperament; above all, which are not “dreadfully - in earnest,” something may be computed or conjectured: yet even these are - a kind of Mystery in progress,—whereby we see the Journalist - Reporter find livelihood: even these jolt madly out of the ruts, from - time to time. How much more a poor National Convention, of French - vehemence; urged on at such velocity; without routine, without rut, track - or landmark; and dreadfully in earnest every man of them! It is a - Parliament literally such as there was never elsewhere in the world. - Themselves are new, unarranged; they are the Heart and presiding centre - of a France fallen wholly into maddest disarrangement. From all cities, - hamlets, from the utmost ends of this France with its Twenty-five million - vehement souls, thick-streaming influences storm in on that same Heart, - in the Salle de Manége, and storm out again: such fiery venous-arterial - circulation is the function of that Heart. Seven Hundred and Forty-nine - human individuals, we say, never sat together on Earth, under more - original circumstances. Common individuals most of them, or not far from - common; yet in virtue of the position they occupied, so notable. How, in - this wild piping of the whirlwind of human passions, with death, victory, - terror, valour, and all height and all depth pealing and piping, these - men, left to their own guidance, will speak and act? - </p> - - <p> - Readers know well that this French National Convention (quite contrary to - its own Program) became the astonishment and horror of mankind; a kind of - Apocalyptic Convention, or black <i>Dream become real;</i> concerning - which History seldom speaks except in the way of interjection: how it - covered France with woe, delusion, and delirium; and from its bosom there - went forth Death on the pale Horse. To hate this poor National Convention - is easy; to praise and love it has not been found impossible. It is, as - we say, a Parliament in the most original circumstances. To us, in these - pages, be it as a fuliginous fiery mystery, where Upper has met Nether, - and in such alternate glare and blackness of darkness poor bedazzled - mortals know not which is Upper, which is Nether; but rage and plunge - distractedly, as mortals, in that case, will do. A Convention which has - to consume itself, suicidally; and become dead ashes—with its - World! Behoves us, not to enter exploratively its dim embroiled deeps; - yet to stand with unwavering eyes, looking how it welters; what notable - phases and occurrences it will successively throw up. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - One general superficial circumstance we remark with praise: the force of - Politeness. To such depth has the sense of civilisation penetrated man’s - life; no Drouet, no Legendre, in the maddest tug of war, can altogether - shake it off. Debates of Senates dreadfully in earnest are seldom given - frankly to the world; else perhaps they would surprise it. Did not the - Grand Monarque himself once chase his Louvois with a pair of brandished - tongs? But reading long volumes of these Convention Debates, all in a - foam with furious earnestness, earnest many times to the extent of life - and death, one is struck rather with the degree of continence they - manifest in speech; and how in such wild ebullition, there is still a - kind of polite rule struggling for mastery, and the forms of social life - never altogether disappear. These men, though they menace with clenched - right-hands, do not clench one another by the collar; they draw no - daggers, except for oratorical purposes, and this not often: profane - swearing is almost unknown, though the Reports are frank enough; we find - only one or two oaths, oaths by Marat, reported in all. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, that there is “effervescence” who doubts? Effervescence - enough; Decrees passed by acclamation today, repealed by vociferation - tomorrow; temper fitful, most rotatory changeful, always headlong! The - “voice of the orator is covered with rumours;” a hundred “honourable - Members rush with menaces towards the Left side of the Hall;” President - has “broken three bells in succession,”—claps on his hat, as signal - that the country is near ruined. A fiercely effervescent Old-Gallic - Assemblage!—Ah, how the loud sick sounds of Debate, and of Life, - which is a <i>debate</i>, sink silent one after another: so loud now, and - in a little while so low! Brennus, and those antique Gael Captains, in - their way to Rome, to Galatia, and such places, whither they were in the - habit of marching in the most fiery manner, had Debates as effervescent, - doubt it not; though no <i>Moniteur</i> has reported them. They scolded - in Celtic Welsh, those Brennuses; neither were they Sansculotte; nay - rather breeches (<i>braccæ</i>, say of felt or rough-leather) were the - only thing they had; being, as Livy testifies, naked down <i>to</i> the - haunches:—and, see, it is the same sort of work and of men still, - now when they have got coats, and speak nasally a kind of broken Latin! - But on the whole does not TIME envelop this present National Convention; - as it did those Brennuses, and ancient August Senates in felt breeches? - Time surely; and also Eternity. Dim dusk of Time,—or noon which - will be dusk; and then there is night, and silence; and Time with all its - sick noises is swallowed in the still sea. Pity thy brother, O Son of - Adam! The angriest frothy jargon that he utters, is it not properly the - whimpering of an infant which cannot <i>speak</i> what ails it, but is in - distress clearly, in the inwards of it; and so must squall and whimper - continually, till its Mother take it, and it get—to sleep! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - This Convention is not four days old, and the melodious Melibœan stanzas - that shook down Royalty are still fresh in our ear, when there bursts out - a new diapason,—unhappily, of Discord, this time. For speech has - been made of a thing difficult to speak of well: the September Massacres. - How deal with these September Massacres; with the Paris Commune that - presided over them? A Paris Commune hateful-terrible; before which the - poor effete Legislative had to quail, and sit quiet. And now if a young - omnipotent Convention will not so quail and sit, what steps shall it - take? Have a Departmental Guard in its pay, answer the Girondins, and - Friends of Order! A Guard of National Volunteers, missioned from all the - Eighty-three or Eighty-five Departments, for that express end; these will - keep Septemberers, tumultuous Communes in a due state of submissiveness, - the Convention in a due state of sovereignty. So have the Friends of - Order answered, sitting in Committee, and reporting; and even a Decree - has been passed of the required tenour. Nay certain Departments, as the - Var or Marseilles, in mere expectation and assurance of a Decree, have - their contingent of Volunteers already on march: brave Marseillese, - foremost on the Tenth of August, will not be hindmost here; “fathers gave - their sons a musket and twenty-five louis,” says Barbaroux, “and bade - them march.” - </p> - - <p> - Can any thing be properer? A Republic that will found itself on justice - must needs investigate September Massacres; a Convention calling itself - National, ought it not to be guarded by a National force?—Alas, - Reader, it seems so to the eye: and yet there is much to be said and - argued. Thou beholdest here the small beginning of a Controversy, which - mere logic will not settle. Two small well-springs, September, - Departmental Guard, or rather at bottom they are but one and the same - small well-spring; which will swell and widen into waters of bitterness; - all manner of subsidiary streams and brooks of bitterness flowing in, - from this side and that; till it become a wide river of bitterness, of - rage and separation,—which can subside only into the Catacombs. - This Departmental Guard, decreed by overwhelming majorities, and then - repealed for peace’s sake, and not to insult Paris, is again decreed more - than once; nay it is partially executed, and the very men that are to be - of it are seen visibly parading the Paris streets,—shouting once, - being overtaken with liquor: ‘<i>À bas Marat</i>, Down with Marat!’<a - href="#linknote-573" name="linknoteref-573" - id="linknoteref-573">[573]</a> Nevertheless, decreed never so often, it - is repealed just as often; and continues, for some seven months, an angry - noisy Hypothesis only: a fair Possibility struggling to become a Reality, - but which shall never be one; which, after endless struggling, shall, in - February next, sink into sad rest,—dragging much along with it. So - singular are the ways of men and honourable Members. - </p> - - <p> - But on this fourth day of the Convention’s existence, as we said, which - is the 25th of September 1792, there comes Committee Report on that - Decree of the Departmental Guard, and speech of repealing it; there come - denunciations of anarchy, of a Dictatorship,—which let the - incorruptible Robespierre consider: there come denunciations of a certain - <i>Journal de la République</i>, once called <i>Ami du Peuple;</i> and so - thereupon there comes, visibly stepping up, visibly standing aloft on the - Tribune, ready to speak, the Bodily Spectrum of People’s-Friend Marat! - Shriek, ye Seven Hundred and Forty-nine; it is verily Marat, he and not - another. Marat is no phantasm of the brain, or mere lying impress of - Printer’s Types; but a thing material, of joint and sinew, and a certain - small stature: ye behold him there, in his blackness in his dingy - squalor, a living fraction of Chaos and Old Night; visibly incarnate, - desirous to speak. ‘It appears,’ says Marat to the shrieking Assembly, - ‘that a great many persons here are enemies of mine.’ ‘All! All!’ shriek - hundreds of voices: enough to drown any People’s-Friend. But Marat will - not drown: he speaks and croaks explanation; croaks with such - reasonableness, air of sincerity, that repentant pity smothers anger, and - the shrieks subside or even become applauses. For this Convention is - unfortunately the crankest of machines: it shall be pointing eastward, - with stiff violence, this moment; and then do but touch some spring - dexterously, the whole machine, clattering and jerking - seven-hundred-fold, will whirl with huge crash, and, next moment, is - pointing westward! Thus Marat, absolved and applauded, victorious in this - turn of fence, is, as the Debate goes on, prickt at again by some - dexterous Girondin; and then the shrieks rise anew, and Decree of - Accusation is on the point of passing; till the dingy People’s-Friend - bobs aloft once more; croaks once more persuasive stillness, and the - Decree of Accusation sinks, Whereupon he draws forth—a Pistol; and - setting it to his Head, the seat of such thought and prophecy, says: ‘If - they had passed their Accusation Decree, he, the People’s-Friend, would - have blown his brains out.’ A People’s Friend has that faculty in him. - For the rest, as to this of the two hundred and sixty thousand Aristocrat - Heads, Marat candidly says, ‘<i>C’est là mon avis</i>, such is my - opinion.’ Also it is not indisputable: ‘No power on Earth can prevent me - from seeing into traitors, and unmasking them,’—by my superior - originality of mind?<a href="#linknote-574" name="linknoteref-574" - id="linknoteref-574">[574]</a> An honourable member like this Friend of - the People few terrestrial Parliaments have had. - </p> - - <p> - We observe, however, that this first onslaught by the Friends of Order, - as sharp and prompt as it was, has failed. For neither can Robespierre, - summoned out by talk of Dictatorship, and greeted with the like rumour on - shewing himself, be thrown into Prison, into Accusation;—not though - Barbaroux openly bear testimony against him, and sign it on paper. With - such sanctified meekness does the Incorruptible lift his seagreen cheek - to the smiter; lift his thin voice, and with jesuitic dexterity plead, - and prosper: asking at last, in a prosperous manner: ‘But what witnesses - has the Citoyen Barbaroux to support his testimony?’ ‘<i>Moi!</i>’ cries - hot Rebecqui, standing up, striking his breast with both hands, and - answering, ‘Me!’<a href="#linknote-575" name="linknoteref-575" - id="linknoteref-575">[575]</a> Nevertheless the Seagreen pleads again, - and makes it good: the long hurlyburly, “personal merely,” while so much - public matter lies fallow, has ended in the order of the day. O Friends - of the Gironde, why will you occupy our august sessions with mere paltry - Personalities, while the grand Nationality lies in such a - state?—The Gironde has touched, this day, on the foul black-spot of - its fair Convention Domain; has trodden on it, and yet <i>not</i> trodden - it down. Alas, it is a <i>well-spring</i>, as we said, this black-spot; - and will not tread down! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0114" id="link2HCH0114"></a> - Chapter 3.2.II.<br/> - The Executive. - </h3> - - <p> - May we not conjecture therefore that round this grand enterprise of - Making the Constitution there will, as heretofore, very strange - embroilments gather, and questions and interests complicate themselves; - so that after a few or even several months, the Convention will not have - settled every thing? Alas, a whole tide of questions comes rolling, - boiling; growing ever wider, without end! Among which, apart from this - question of September and Anarchy, let us notice those, which emerge - oftener than the others, and promise to become Leading Questions: of the - Armies; of the Subsistences; thirdly, of the Dethroned King. - </p> - - <p> - As to the Armies, Public Defence must evidently be put on a proper - footing; for Europe seems coalising itself again; one is apprehensive - even England will join it. Happily Dumouriez prospers in the - North;—nay what if he should prove too prosperous, and become - <i>Liberticide</i>, Murderer of Freedom!—Dumouriez prospers, - through this winter season; yet not without lamentable complaints. Sleek - Pache, the Swiss Schoolmaster, he that sat frugal in his Alley, the - wonder of neighbours, has got lately—whither thinks the Reader? To - be Minister of war! Madame Roland, struck with his sleek ways, - recommended him to her Husband as Clerk: the sleek Clerk had no need of - salary, being of true Patriotic temper; he would come with a bit of bread - in his pocket, to save dinner and time; and, munching incidentally, do - three men’s work in a day, punctual, silent, frugal,—the sleek - Tartuffe that he was. Wherefore Roland, in the late Overturn, recommended - him to be War-Minister. And now, it would seem, he is secretly - undermining Roland; playing into the hands of your hotter Jacobins and - September Commune; and cannot, like strict Roland, be the <i>Veto des - Coquins!</i><a href="#linknote-576" name="linknoteref-576" - id="linknoteref-576">[576]</a> - </p> - - <p> - How the sleek Pache might mine and undermine, one knows not well; this - however one does know: that his War-Office has become a den of thieves - and confusion, such as all men shudder to behold. That the Citizen - Hassenfratz, as Head-Clerk, sits there in <i>bonnet rouge</i>, in rapine, - in violence, and some Mathematical calculation; a most insolent, - red-nightcapped man. That Pache munches his pocket-loaf, amid head-clerks - and sub-clerks, and has spent all the War-Estimates: that Furnishers - scour in gigs, over all districts of France, and drive - bargains;—and lastly that the Army gets next to no furniture. No - shoes, though it is winter; no clothes; some have not even arms: “In the - Army of the South,” complains an honourable Member, “there are thirty - thousand pairs of breeches wanting,”—a most scandalous want. - </p> - - <p> - Roland’s strict soul is sick to see the course things take: but what can - he do? Keep his own Department strict; rebuke, and repress wheresoever - possible; at lowest, complain. He can complain in Letter after Letter, to - a National Convention, to France, to Posterity, the Universe; grow ever - more querulous indignant;—till at last may he not grow wearisome? - For is not this continual text of his, at bottom a rather barren one: How - astonishing that in a time of Revolt and abrogation of all Law but Cannon - Law, there should be such Unlawfulness? Intrepid Veto-of-Scoundrels, - narrow-faithful, respectable, methodic man, work thou in that manner, - since happily it is thy manner, and wear thyself away; though - ineffectual, not profitless in it—then nor <i>now!</i>—The - brave Dame Roland, bravest of all French women, begins to have - misgivings: the figure of Danton has too much of the “Sardanapalus - character,” at a Republican Rolandin Dinner-table: Clootz, Speaker of - Mankind, proses sad stuff about a Universal Republic, or union of all - Peoples and Kindreds in one and the same Fraternal Bond; of which Bond, - how it is to be <i>tied</i>, one unhappily sees not. - </p> - - <p> - It is also an indisputable, unaccountable or accountable fact that Grains - are becoming scarcer and scarcer. Riots for grain, tumultuous Assemblages - demanding to have the price of grain fixed abound far and near. The Mayor - of Paris and other poor Mayors are like to have their difficulties. - Pétion was re-elected Mayor of Paris; but has declined; being now a - Convention Legislator. Wise surely to decline: for, besides this of - Grains and all the rest, there is in these times an Improvised - insurrectionary Commune passing into an Elected legal one; getting their - accounts settled,—not without irritancy! Pétion has declined: - nevertheless many do covet and canvass. After months of scrutinising, - balloting, arguing and jargoning, one Doctor Chambon gets the post of - honour: who will not long keep it; but be, as we shall see, literally - <i>crushed</i> out of it.<a href="#linknote-577" name="linknoteref-577" - id="linknoteref-577">[577]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Think also if the private Sansculotte has not his difficulties, in a time - of dearth! Bread, according to the People’s-Friend, may be some “six sous - per pound, a day’s wages some fifteen;” and grim winter here. How the - Poor Man continues living, and so seldom starves, by miracle! Happily, in - these days, he can enlist, and have himself shot by the Austrians, in an - unusually satisfactory manner: for the Rights of Man.—But - Commandant Santerre, in this so straitened condition of the flour-market, - and state of Equality and Liberty, proposes, through the Newspapers, two - remedies, or at least palliatives: <i>First</i>, that all classes of men - should live, two days of the week, on potatoes; then <i>second</i>, that - every man should hang his dog. Hereby, as the Commandant thinks, the - saving, which indeed he computes to so many sacks, would be very - considerable. A cheerfuller form of inventive-stupidity than Commandant - Santerre’s dwells in no human soul. Inventive-stupidity, imbedded in - health, courage and good-nature: much to be commended. ‘My whole - strength,’ he tells the Convention once, ‘is, day and night, at the - service of my fellow-Citizens: if they find me worthless, they will - dismiss me; I will return and brew beer.’<a href="#linknote-578" - name="linknoteref-578" id="linknoteref-578">[578]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or figure what correspondences a poor Roland, Minister of the Interior, - must have, on this of Grains alone! Free-trade in Grain, impossibility to - fix the Prices of Grain; on the other hand, clamour and necessity to fix - them: Political Economy lecturing from the Home Office, with - demonstration clear as Scripture;—ineffectual for the empty - National Stomach. The Mayor of Chartres, like to be eaten himself, cries - to the Convention: the Convention sends honourable Members in Deputation; - who endeavour to feed the multitude by miraculous spiritual methods; but - cannot. The multitude, in spite of all Eloquence, come bellowing round; - will have the Grain-Prices fixed, and at a moderate elevation; or - else—the honourable Deputies hanged on the spot! The honourable - Deputies, reporting this business, admit that, on the edge of horrid - death, they did fix, or affect to fix the Price of Grain: for which, be - it also noted, the Convention, a Convention that will not be trifled - with, sees good to reprimand them.<a href="#linknote-579" - name="linknoteref-579" id="linknoteref-579">[579]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But as to the origin of these Grain Riots, is it not most probably your - secret Royalists again? Glimpses of Priests were discernible in this of - Chartres,—to the eye of Patriotism. Or indeed may not “the root of - it all lie in the Temple Prison, in the heart of a perjured King,” well - as we guard him?<a href="#linknote-580" name="linknoteref-580" - id="linknoteref-580">[580]</a> Unhappy perjured King!—And so there - shall be Baker’s Queues, by and by, more sharp-tempered than ever: on - every Baker’s door-rabbet an iron ring, and coil of rope; whereon, with - firm grip, on this side and that, we form our Queue: but mischievous - deceitful persons cut the rope, and our Queue becomes a ravelment; - wherefore the coil must be made of iron chain.<a href="#linknote-581" - name="linknoteref-581" id="linknoteref-581">[581]</a> Also there shall be - Prices of Grain well fixed; but then no grain purchasable by them: bread - not to be had except by Ticket from the Mayor, few ounces per mouth - daily; after long swaying, with firm grip, on the chain of the Queue. And - Hunger shall stalk direful; and Wrath and Suspicion, whetted to the - Preternatural pitch, shall stalk;—as those other preternatural - “shapes of Gods in their wrathfulness” were discerned stalking, “in glare - and gloom of that fire-ocean,” when Troy Town fell!— - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0115" id="link2HCH0115"></a> - Chapter 3.2.III.<br/> - Discrowned. - </h3> - - <p> - But the question more pressing than all on the Legislator, as yet, is - this third: What shall be done with King Louis? - </p> - - <p> - King Louis, now King and Majesty to his own family alone, in their own - Prison Apartment alone, has been Louis Capet and the Traitor Veto with - the rest of France. Shut in his Circuit of the Temple, he has heard and - seen the loud whirl of things; yells of September Massacres, Brunswick - war-thunders dying off in disaster and discomfiture; he passive, a - spectator merely;—waiting whither it would please to whirl with - him. From the neighbouring windows, the curious, not without pity, might - see him walk daily, at a certain hour, in the Temple Garden, with his - Queen, Sister and two Children, all that now belongs to him in this - Earth.<a href="#linknote-582" name="linknoteref-582" - id="linknoteref-582">[582]</a> Quietly he walks and waits; for he is not - of lively feelings, and is of a devout heart. The wearied Irresolute has, - at least, no need of resolving now. His daily meals, lessons to his Son, - daily walk in the Garden, daily game at ombre or drafts, fill up the day: - the morrow will provide for itself. - </p> - - <p> - The morrow indeed; and yet How? Louis asks, How? France, with perhaps - still more solicitude, asks, How? A King dethroned by insurrection is - verily not easy to dispose of. Keep him prisoner, he is a secret centre - for the Disaffected, for endless plots, attempts and hopes of theirs. - Banish him, he is an open centre for them; his royal war-standard, with - what of divinity it has, unrolls itself, summoning the world. Put him to - death? A cruel questionable extremity that too: and yet the likeliest in - these extreme circumstances, of insurrectionary men, whose own life and - death lies staked: accordingly it is said, from the last step of the - throne to the first of the scaffold there is short distance. - </p> - - <p> - But, on the whole, we will remark here that this business of Louis looks - altogether different now, as seen over Seas and at the distance of - forty-four years, than it looked then, in France, and struggling, - confused all round one! For indeed it is a most lying thing that same - Past Tense always: so beautiful, sad, almost Elysian-sacred, “in the - moonlight of Memory,” it seems; and <i>seems</i> only. For observe: - always, one most important element is surreptitiously (we not noticing - it) withdrawn from the Past Time: the haggard element of Fear! Not - <i>there</i> does Fear dwell, nor Uncertainty, nor Anxiety; but it dwells - <i>here;</i> haunting us, tracking us; running like an accursed - ground-discord through all the music-tones of our Existence;—making - the Tense a mere Present one! Just so is it with this of Louis. Why smite - the fallen? asks Magnanimity, out of danger now. He is fallen so low this - once-high man; no criminal nor traitor, how far from it; but the - unhappiest of Human Solecisms: whom if abstract Justice had to pronounce - upon, she might well become concrete Pity, and pronounce only sobs and - dismissal! - </p> - - <p> - So argues retrospective Magnanimity: but Pusillanimity, present, - prospective? Reader, thou hast never lived, for months, under the rustle - of Prussian gallows-ropes; never wert thou portion of a National - Sahara-waltz, Twenty-five millions running distracted to fight Brunswick! - Knights Errant themselves, when they conquered Giants, usually slew the - Giants: quarter was only for other Knights Errant, who knew courtesy and - the laws of battle. The French Nation, in simultaneous, desperate - dead-pull, and as if by miracle of madness, has pulled down the most - dread Goliath, huge with the growth of ten centuries; and cannot believe, - though his giant bulk, covering acres, lies prostrate, bound with peg and - packthread, that he will not rise again, man-devouring; that the victory - is not partly a dream. Terror has its scepticism; miraculous victory its - rage of vengeance. Then as to criminalty, is the prostrated Giant, who - will devour us if he rise, an innocent Giant? Curate Gregoire, who indeed - is now Constitutional Bishop Gregoire, asserts, in the heat of eloquence, - that Kingship by the very nature of it is a crime capital; that Kings’ - Houses are as wild-beasts’ dens.<a href="#linknote-583" - name="linknoteref-583" id="linknoteref-583">[583]</a> Lastly consider - this: that there is on record a Trial of Charles First! This printed - <i>Trial of Charles First</i> is sold and read every where at present:<a - href="#linknote-584" name="linknoteref-584" - id="linknoteref-584">[584]</a>—<i>Quelle spectacle!</i> Thus did - the English People judge their Tyrant, and become the first of Free - Peoples: which feat, by the grace of Destiny, may not France now rival? - Scepticism of terror, rage of miraculous victory, sublime spectacle to - the universe,—all things point one fatal way. - </p> - - <p> - Such leading questions, and their endless incidental ones: of September - Anarchists and Departmental Guard; of Grain Riots, plaintiff Interior - Ministers; of Armies, Hassenfratz dilapidations; and what is to be done - with Louis,—beleaguer and embroil this Convention; which would so - gladly make the Constitution rather. All which questions too, as we often - urge of such things, are in <i>growth;</i> they grow in every French - head; and can be <i>seen</i> growing also, very curiously, in this mighty - welter of Parliamentary Debate, of Public Business which the Convention - has to do. A question emerges, so small at first; is put off, submerged; - but always re-emerges bigger than before. It is a curious, indeed an - indescribable sort of growth which such things have. - </p> - - <p> - We perceive, however, both by its frequent re-emergence and by its rapid - enlargement of bulk, that this Question of King Louis will take the lead - of all the rest. And truly, in that case, it will take the <i>lead</i> in - a much deeper sense. For as Aaron’s Rod swallowed all the other Serpents; - so will the Foremost Question, whichever may get foremost, absorb all - other questions and interests; and from it and the decision of it will - they all, so to speak, be <i>born</i>, or new-born, and have shape, - physiognomy and destiny corresponding. It was appointed of Fate that, in - this wide-weltering, strangely growing, monstrous stupendous imbroglio of - Convention Business, the grand First-Parent of all the questions, - controversies, measures and enterprises which were to be evolved there to - the world’s astonishment, should be this Question of King Louis. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0116" id="link2HCH0116"></a> - Chapter 3.2.IV.<br/> - The Loser Pays. - </h3> - - <p> - The Sixth of November, 1792, was a great day for the Republic: outwardly, - over the Frontiers; inwardly, in the <i>Salle de Manége</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Outwardly: for Dumouriez, overrunning the Netherlands, did, on that day, - come in contact with Saxe-Teschen and the Austrians; Dumouriez - wide-winged, they wide-winged; at and around the village of Jemappes, - near Mons. And fire-hail is whistling far and wide there, the great guns - playing, and the small; so many green Heights getting fringed and maned - with red Fire. And Dumouriez is swept back on this wing, and swept back - on that, and is like to be swept back utterly; when he rushes up in - person, the prompt Polymetis; speaks a prompt word or two; and then, with - clear tenor-pipe, “uplifts the Hymn of the Marseillese, <i>entonna la - Marseillaise</i>,”<a href="#linknote-585" name="linknoteref-585" - id="linknoteref-585">[585]</a> ten thousand tenor or bass pipes joining; - or say, some Forty Thousand in all; for every heart leaps at the sound: - and so with rhythmic march-melody, waxing ever quicker, to double and to - treble quick, they rally, they advance, they rush, death-defying, - man-devouring; carry batteries, redoutes, whatsoever is to be carried; - and, like the fire-whirlwind, sweep all manner of Austrians from the - scene of action. Thus, through the hands of Dumouriez, may Rouget de - Lille, in figurative speech, be said to have gained, miraculously, like - another Orpheus, by his Marseillese fiddle-strings (<i>fidibus - canoris</i>) a Victory of Jemappes; and conquered the Low Countries. - </p> - - <p> - Young General Egalité, it would seem, shone brave among the bravest on - this occasion. Doubtless a brave Egalité;—whom however does not - Dumouriez rather talk of oftener than need were? The Mother Society has - her own thoughts. As for the Elder Egalité he flies low at this time; - appears in the Convention for some half-hour daily, with rubicund, - pre-occupied, or impressive quasi-contemptuous countenance; and then - takes himself away.<a href="#linknote-586" name="linknoteref-586" - id="linknoteref-586">[586]</a> The Netherlands are conquered, at least - overrun. Jacobin missionaries, your Prolys, Pereiras, follow in the train - of the Armies; also Convention Commissioners, melting church-plate, - revolutionising and remodelling—among whom Danton, in brief space, - does immensities of business; not neglecting his own wages and - trade-profits, it is thought. Hassenfratz dilapidates at home; Dumouriez - grumbles and they dilapidate abroad: within the walls there is sinning, - and without the walls there is sinning. - </p> - - <p> - But in the Hall of the Convention, at the same hour with this victory of - Jemappes, there went another thing forward: Report, of great length, from - the proper appointed Committee, on the Crimes of Louis. The Galleries - listen breathless; take comfort, ye Galleries: Deputy Valazé, Reporter on - this occasion, thinks Louis very criminal; and that, if convenient, he - should be tried;—poor Girondin Valazé, who may be tried himself, - one day! Comfortable so far. Nay here comes a second Committee-reporter, - Deputy Mailhe, with a Legal Argument, very prosy to read now, very - refreshing to hear then, That, by the Law of the Country, Louis Capet was - only called Inviolable by a figure of rhetoric; but at bottom was - perfectly violable, triable; that he can, and even should be tried. This - Question of Louis, emerging so often as an angry confused possibility, - and submerging again, has emerged now in an articulate shape. - </p> - - <p> - Patriotism growls indignant joy. The so-called reign of Equality is not - to be a mere name, then, but a thing! Try Louis Capet? scornfully - ejaculates Patriotism: Mean criminals go to the gallows for a purse cut; - and this chief criminal, guilty of a France cut; of a France slashed - asunder with Clotho-scissors and Civil war; with his victims “twelve - hundred on the Tenth of August alone” lying low in the Catacombs, - fattening the passes of Argonne Wood, of Valmy and far Fields; <i>he</i>, - such chief criminal, shall not even come to the bar?—For, alas, O - Patriotism! add we, it was from of old said, <i>The loser pays!</i> It is - he who has to pay <i>all</i> scores, run up by whomsoever; on him must - all breakages and charges fall; and the twelve hundred on the Tenth of - August are not rebel traitors, but victims and martyrs: such is the law - of quarrel. - </p> - - <p> - Patriotism, nothing doubting, watches over this Question of the Trial, - now happily emerged in an articulate shape; and will see it to maturity, - if the gods permit. With a keen solicitude Patriotism watches; getting - ever keener, at every new difficulty, as Girondins and false brothers - interpose delays; till it get a keenness as of fixed-idea, and will have - this Trial and no earthly thing instead of it,—if Equality be not a - name. Love of Equality; then scepticism of terror, rage of victory, - sublime spectacle of the universe: all these things are strong. - </p> - - <p> - But indeed this Question of the Trial, is it not to all persons a most - grave one; filling with dubiety many a Legislative head! Regicide? asks - the Gironde Respectability: To kill a king, and become the horror of - respectable nations and persons? But then also, to save a king; to lose - one’s footing with the decided Patriot; and undecided Patriot, though - never so respectable, being mere hypothetic froth and no - footing?—The dilemma presses sore; and between the horns of it you - wriggle round and round. Decision is nowhere, save in the Mother Society - and her Sons. These have decided, and go forward: the others wriggle - round uneasily within their dilemma-horns, and make way nowhither. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0117" id="link2HCH0117"></a> - Chapter 3.2.V.<br/> - Stretching of Formulas. - </h3> - - <p> - But how this Question of the Trial grew laboriously, through the weeks of - gestation, now that it has been articulated or conceived, were - superfluous to trace here. It emerged and submerged among the infinite of - questions and embroilments. The Veto of Scoundrels writes plaintive - Letters as to Anarchy; “concealed Royalists,” aided by Hunger, produce - Riots about Grain. Alas, it is but a week ago, these Girondins made a new - fierce onslaught on the September Massacres! - </p> - - <p> - For, one day, among the last of October, Robespierre, being summoned to - the tribune by some new hint of that old calumny of the Dictatorship, was - speaking and pleading there, with more and more comfort to himself; till, - rising high in heart, he cried out valiantly: Is there any man here that - dare specifically accuse me? ‘<i>Moi!</i>’ exclaimed one. Pause of deep - silence: a lean angry little Figure, with broad bald brow, strode swiftly - towards the tribune, taking papers from its pocket: ‘I accuse thee, - Robespierre,’—I, Jean Baptiste Louvet! The Seagreen became - tallow-green; shrinking to a corner of the tribune: Danton cried, ‘Speak, - Robespierre, there are many good citizens that listen;’ but the tongue - refused its office. And so Louvet, with a shrill tone, read and recited - crime after crime: dictatorial temper, exclusive popularity, bullying at - elections, mob-retinue, September Massacres;—till all the - Convention shrieked again, and had almost indicted the Incorruptible - there on the spot. Never did the Incorruptible run such a risk. Louvet, - to his dying day, will regret that the Gironde did not take a bolder - attitude, and extinguish him there and then. - </p> - - <p> - Not so, however: the Incorruptible, about to be indicted in this sudden - manner, could not be refused a week of delay. That week, he is not idle; - nor is the Mother Society idle,—fierce-tremulous for her chosen - son. He is ready at the day with his written Speech; smooth as a Jesuit - Doctor’s; and convinces some. And now? Why, now lazy Vergniaud does not - rise with Demosthenic thunder; poor Louvet, unprepared, can do little or - nothing: Barrère proposes that these comparatively despicable - “personalities” be dismissed by order of the day! Order of the day it - accordingly is. Barbaroux cannot even get a hearing; not though he rush - down to the Bar, and demand to be heard there as a petitioner.<a - href="#linknote-587" name="linknoteref-587" - id="linknoteref-587">[587]</a> The convention, eager for public business - (with that first articulate emergence of the Trial just coming on), - dismisses these comparative <i>misères</i> and despicabilities: splenetic - Louvet must digest his spleen, regretfully for ever: Robespierre, dear to - Patriotism, is dearer for the dangers he has run. - </p> - - <p> - This is the second grand attempt by our Girondin Friends of Order, to - extinguish that black-spot in their domain; and we see they have made it - far blacker and wider than before! Anarchy, September Massacre: it is a - thing that lies hideous in the general imagination; very detestable to - the undecided Patriot, of Respectability: a thing to be harped on as - often as need is. Harp on it, denounce it, trample it, ye Girondin - Patriots:—and yet behold, the black-spot will not trample down; it - will only, as we say, trample blacker and wider: fools, it is no - black-spot of the surface, but a well-spring of the deep! Consider - rightly, it is the apex of the everlasting Abyss, this black-spot, - looking up as water through thin ice;—say, as the region of Nether - Darkness through your thin film of Gironde Regulation and Respectability; - trample it <i>not</i>, lest the film break, and then—! - </p> - - <p> - The truth is, if our Gironde Friends had an understanding of it, where - were French Patriotism, with all its eloquence, at this moment, had - <i>not</i> that same great Nether Deep, of Bedlam, Fanaticism and Popular - wrath and madness, risen unfathomable on the Tenth of August? French - Patriotism were an eloquent Reminiscence; swinging on Prussian gibbets. - Nay, where, in few months, were it still, should the same great Nether - Deep subside?—Nay, as readers of Newspapers pretend to recollect, - this hatefulness of the September Massacre is itself partly an - after-thought: readers of Newspapers can quote Gorsas and various - Brissotins approving of the September Massacre, at the time it happened; - and calling it a salutary vengeance!<a href="#linknote-588" - name="linknoteref-588" id="linknoteref-588">[588]</a> So that the real - grief, after all, were not so much righteous horror, as grief that one’s - own power was departing? Unhappy Girondins! - </p> - - <p> - In the Jacobin Society, therefore, the decided Patriot complains that - here are men who with their private ambitions and animosities, will ruin - Liberty, Equality, and Brotherhood, all three: they check the spirit of - Patriotism, throw stumbling-blocks in its way; and instead of pushing on, - all shoulders at the wheel, will stand idle there, spitefully clamouring - what foul ruts there are, what rude jolts we give! To which the Jacobin - Society answers with angry roar;—with angry shriek, for there are - Citoyennes too, thick crowded in the galleries here. Citoyennes who bring - their seam with them, or their knitting-needles; and shriek or knit as - the case needs; famed <i>Tricoteuses</i>, Patriot Knitters;—<i>Mère - Duchesse</i>, or the like Deborah and Mother of the Faubourgs, giving the - keynote. It is a changed Jacobin Society; and a still changing. Where - Mother Duchess now sits, authentic Duchesses have sat. High-rouged dames - went once in jewels and spangles; now, instead of jewels, you may take - the knitting-needles and leave the rouge: the rouge will gradually give - place to natural brown, clean washed or even unwashed; and Demoiselle - Théroigne herself get scandalously fustigated. Strange enough: it is the - same tribune raised in mid-air, where a high Mirabeau, a high Barnave and - Aristocrat Lameths once thundered: whom gradually your Brissots, Guadets, - Vergniauds, a hotter style of Patriots in <i>bonnet rouge</i>, did - displace; red heat, as one may say, superseding light. And now your - Brissots in turn, and Brissotins, Rolandins, Girondins, are becoming - supernumerary; must desert the sittings, or be expelled: the light of the - Mighty Mother is burning not red but blue!—Provincial - Daughter-Societies loudly disapprove these things; loudly demand the - swift reinstatement of such eloquent Girondins, the swift “erasure of - Marat, <i>radiation de Marat</i>.” The Mother Society, so far as natural - reason can predict, seems ruining herself. Nevertheless she has, at all - crises, seemed so; she has a <i>preter</i>natural life in her, and will - not ruin. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But, in a fortnight more, this great Question of the Trial, while the fit - Committee is assiduously but silently working on it, receives an - unexpected stimulus. Our readers remember poor Louis’s turn for - smithwork: how, in old happier days, a certain Sieur Gamain of Versailles - was wont to come over, and instruct him in lock-making;—often - scolding him, they say for his numbness. By whom, nevertheless, the royal - Apprentice had learned something of that craft. Hapless Apprentice; - perfidious Master-Smith! For now, on this 20th of November 1792, dingy - Smith Gamain comes over to the Paris Municipality, over to Minister - Roland, with hints that he, Smith Gamain, knows a thing; that, in May - last, when traitorous Correspondence was so brisk, he and the royal - Apprentice fabricated an “Iron Press, <i>Armoire de Fer</i>,” cunningly - inserting the same in a wall of the royal chamber in the Tuileries; - invisible under the wainscot; where doubtless it still sticks! Perfidious - Gamain, attended by the proper Authorities, finds the wainscot panel - which none else can find; wrenches it up; discloses the Iron - Press,—full of Letters and Papers! Roland clutches them out; - conveys them over in towels to the fit assiduous Committee, which sits - hard by. In towels, we say, and without notarial inventory; an oversight - on the part of Roland. - </p> - - <p> - Here, however, are Letters enough: which disclose to a demonstration the - Correspondence of a traitorous self-preserving Court; and this not with - Traitors only, but even with Patriots, so-called! Barnave’s treason, of - Correspondence with the Queen, and friendly advice to her, ever since - that Varennes Business, is hereby manifest: how happy that we have him, - this Barnave, lying safe in the Prison of Grenoble, since September last, - for he had long been suspect! Talleyrand’s treason, many a man’s treason, - if not manifest hereby, is next to it. Mirabeau’s treason: wherefore his - Bust in the Hall of the Convention “is veiled with gauze,” till we - ascertain. Alas, it is too ascertainable! His Bust in the Hall of the - Jacobins, denounced by Robespierre from the tribune in mid-air, is not - veiled, it is instantly broken to sherds; a Patriot mounting swiftly with - a ladder, and shivering it down on the floor;—it and others: amid - shouts.<a href="#linknote-589" name="linknoteref-589" - id="linknoteref-589">[589]</a> Such is <i>their</i> recompense and amount - of wages, at this date: on the principle of supply and demand! Smith - Gamain, inadequately recompensed for the present, comes, some fifteen - months after, with a humble Petition; setting forth that no sooner was - that important Iron Press finished off by him, than (as he now bethinks - himself) Louis gave him a large glass of wine. Which large glass of wine - did produce in the stomach of Sieur Gamain the terriblest effects, - evidently tending towards death, and was then brought up by an emetic; - but has, notwithstanding, entirely ruined the constitution of Sieur - Gamain; so that he cannot work for his family (as he now bethinks - himself). The recompense of <i>which</i> is “Pension of Twelve Hundred - Francs,” and “honourable mention.” So different is the ratio of demand - and supply at different times. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus, amid obstructions and stimulating furtherances, has the Question of - the Trial to grow; emerging and submerging; fostered by solicitous - Patriotism. Of the Orations that were spoken on it, of the painfully - devised Forms of Process for managing it, the Law Arguments to prove it - lawful, and all the infinite floods of Juridical and other ingenuity and - oratory, be no syllable reported in this History. Lawyer ingenuity is - good: but what can it profit here? If the truth must be spoken, O august - Senators, the only Law in this case is: <i>Væ victis</i>, the loser pays! - Seldom did Robespierre say a wiser word than the hint he gave to that - effect, in his oration, that it was needless to speak of Law, that here, - if never elsewhere, our Right was Might. An oration admired almost to - ecstasy by the Jacobin Patriot: who shall say that Robespierre is not a - thorough-going man; bold in Logic at least? To the like effect, or still - more plainly, spake young Saint-Just, the black-haired, mild-toned youth. - Danton is on mission, in the Netherlands, during this preliminary work. - The rest, far as one reads, welter amid Law of Nations, Social Contract, - Juristics, Syllogistics; to us barren as the East wind. In fact, what can - be more unprofitable than the sight of Seven Hundred and Forty-nine - ingenious men, struggling with their whole force and industry, for a long - course of weeks, to do at bottom this: To stretch out the old Formula and - Law Phraseology, so that it may cover the new, contradictory, entirely - <i>un</i>coverable Thing? Whereby the poor Formula does but <i>crack</i>, - and one’s honesty along with it! The thing that is palpably <i>hot</i>, - burning, wilt thou prove it, by syllogism, to be a freezing-mixture? This - of stretching out Formulas till they crack is, especially in times of - swift change, one of the sorrowfullest tasks poor Humanity has. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0118" id="link2HCH0118"></a> - Chapter 3.2.VI.<br/> - At the Bar. - </h3> - - <p> - Meanwhile, in a space of some five weeks, we have got to another emerging - of the Trial, and a more practical one than ever. - </p> - - <p> - On Tuesday, eleventh of December, the King’s Trial has <i>emerged</i>, - very decidedly: into the streets of Paris; in the shape of that green - Carriage of Mayor Chambon, within which sits the King himself, with - attendants, on his way to the Convention Hall! Attended, in that green - Carriage, by Mayors Chambon, Procureurs Chaumette; and outside of it by - Commandants Santerre, with cannon, cavalry and double row of infantry; - all Sections under arms, strong Patrols scouring all streets; so fares - he, slowly through the dull drizzling weather: and about two o’clock we - behold him, “in walnut-coloured great-coat, <i>redingote noisette</i>,” - descending through the Place Vendôme, towards that Salle de Manége; to be - indicted, and judicially interrogated. The mysterious Temple Circuit has - given up its secret; which now, in this walnut-coloured coat, men behold - with eyes. The same bodily Louis who was once Louis the Desired, fares - there: hapless King, he is getting now towards port; his deplorable - farings and voyagings draw to a close. What duty remains to him - henceforth, that of placidly enduring, he is fit to do. - </p> - - <p> - The singular Procession fares on; in silence, says Prudhomme, or amid - growlings of the Marseillese Hymn; in silence, ushers itself into the - Hall of the Convention, Santerre holding Louis’s arm with his hand. Louis - looks round him, with composed air, to see what kind of Convention and - Parliament it is. Much changed indeed:—since February gone two - years, when our Constituent, then busy, spread fleur-de-lys velvet for - us; and we came over to say a kind word here, and they all started up - swearing Fidelity; and all France started up swearing, and made it a - Feast of Pikes; which has ended in this! Barrère, who once “wept” looking - up from his Editor’s-Desk, looks down now from his President’s-Chair, - with a list of Fifty-seven Questions; and says, dry-eyed: ‘Louis, you may - sit down.’ Louis sits down: it is the very seat, they say, same timber - and stuffing, from which he accepted the Constitution, amid dancing and - illumination, autumn gone a year. So much woodwork remains identical; so - much else is not identical. Louis sits and listens, with a composed look - and mind. - </p> - - <p> - Of the Fifty-seven Questions we shall not give so much as one. They are - questions captiously embracing all the main Documents seized on the Tenth - of August, or found lately in the Iron Press; embracing all the main - incidents of the Revolution History; and they ask, in substance, this: - Louis, who wert King, art thou not guilty to a certain extent, by act and - written document, of trying to continue King? Neither in the Answers is - there much notable. Mere quiet negations, for most part; an accused man - standing on the simple basis of <i>No:</i> I do not recognise that - document; I did not do that act; or did it according to the law that then - was. Whereupon the Fifty-seven Questions, and Documents to the number of - a Hundred and Sixty-two, being exhausted in this manner, Barrère - finishes, after some three hours, with his: ‘Louis, I invite you to - withdraw.’ - </p> - - <p> - Louis withdraws, under Municipal escort, into a neighbouring - Committee-room; having first, in leaving the bar, demanded to have Legal - Counsel. He declines refreshment, in this Committee-room, then, seeing - Chaumette busy with a small loaf which a grenadier had divided with him, - says, he will take a bit of bread. It is five o’clock; and he had - breakfasted but slightly in a morning of such drumming and alarm. - Chaumette breaks his half-loaf: the King eats of the crust; mounts the - green Carriage, eating; asks now what he shall do with the crumb? - Chaumette’s clerk takes it from him; flings it out into the street. Louis - says, It is pity to fling out bread, in a time of dearth. ‘My - grandmother,’ remarks Chaumette, ‘used to say to me, Little boy, never - waste a crumb of bread, you cannot make one.’ ‘Monsieur Chaumette,’ - answers Louis, ‘your grandmother seems to have been a sensible woman.’<a - href="#linknote-590" name="linknoteref-590" - id="linknoteref-590">[590]</a> Poor innocent mortal: so quietly he waits - the drawing of the lot;—fit to do this at least well; Passivity - alone, without Activity, sufficing for it! He talks once of travelling - over France by and by, to have a geographical and topographical view of - it; being from of old fond of geography.—The Temple Circuit again - receives him, closes on him; gazing Paris may retire to its hearths and - coffee-houses, to its clubs and theatres: the damp Darkness has sunk, and - with it the drumming and patrolling of this strange Day. - </p> - - <p> - Louis is now separated from his Queen and Family; given up to his simple - reflections and resources. Dull lie these stone walls round him; of his - loved ones none with him. In this state of “uncertainty,” providing for - the worst, he writes his Will: a Paper which can still be read; full of - placidity, simplicity, pious sweetness. The Convention, after debate, has - granted him Legal Counsel, of his own choosing. Advocate Target feels - himself “too old,” being turned of fifty-four; and declines. He had - gained great honour once, defending Rohan the Necklace-Cardinal; but will - gain none here. Advocate Tronchet, some ten years older, does not - decline. Nay behold, good old Malesherbes steps forward voluntarily; to - the last of his fields, the good old hero! He is grey with seventy years: - he says, “I was twice called to the Council of him who was my Master, - when all the world coveted that honour; and I owe him the same service - now, when it has become one which many reckon dangerous.” These two, with - a younger Desèze, whom they will select for pleading, are busy over that - Fifty-and-sevenfold Indictment, over the Hundred and Sixty-two Documents; - Louis aiding them as he can. - </p> - - <p> - A great Thing is now therefore in open progress; all men, in all lands, - watching it. By what Forms and Methods shall the Convention acquit - itself, in such manner that there rest not on it even the suspicion of - blame? Difficult that will be! The Convention, really much at a loss, - discusses and deliberates. All day from morning to night, day after day, - the Tribune drones with oratory on this matter; one must stretch the old - Formula to cover the new Thing. The Patriots of the Mountain, whetted - ever keener, clamour for despatch above all; the only good Form will be a - swift one. Nevertheless the Convention deliberates; the Tribune - drones,—drowned indeed in tenor, and even in treble, from time to - time; the whole Hall shrilling up round it into pretty frequent wrath and - provocation. It has droned and shrilled wellnigh a fortnight, before we - can decide, this shrillness getting ever shriller, That on Wednesday 26th - of December, Louis shall appear, and plead. His Advocates complain that - it is fatally soon; which they well might as Advocates: but without - remedy; to Patriotism it seems endlessly late. - </p> - - <p> - On Wednesday, therefore, at the cold dark hour of eight in the morning, - all Senators are at their post. Indeed they warm the cold hour, as we - find, by a violent effervescence, such as is too common now; some Louvet - or Buzot attacking some Tallien, Chabot; and so the whole Mountain - effervescing against the whole Gironde. Scarcely is this done, at nine, - when Louis and his three Advocates, escorted by the clang of arms and - Santerre’s National force, enter the Hall. - </p> - - <p> - Desèze unfolds his papers; honourably fulfilling his perilous office, - pleads for the space of three hours. An honourable Pleading, “composed - almost overnight;” courageous yet discreet; not without ingenuity, and - soft pathetic eloquence: Louis fell on his neck, when they had withdrawn, - and said with tears, <i>Mon pauvre Desèze</i>. Louis himself, before - withdrawing, had added a few words, ‘perhaps the last he would utter to - them:’ how it pained his heart, above all things, to be held guilty of - that bloodshed on the Tenth of August; or of ever shedding or wishing to - shed French blood. So saying, he withdrew from that Hall;—having - indeed finished his work there. Many are the strange errands he has had - thither; but this strange one is the last. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And now, why will the Convention loiter? Here is the Indictment and - Evidence; here is the Pleading: does not the rest follow of itself? The - Mountain, and Patriotism in general, clamours still louder for despatch; - for Permanent-session, till the task be done. Nevertheless a doubting, - apprehensive Convention decides that it will still deliberate first; that - all Members, who desire it, shall have leave to speak.—To your - desks, therefore, ye eloquent Members! Down with your thoughts, your - echoes and hearsays of thoughts: now is the time to shew oneself; France - and the Universe listens! Members are not wanting: Oration spoken - Pamphlet follows spoken Pamphlet, with what eloquence it can: President’s - List swells ever higher with names claiming to speak; from day to day, - all days and all hours, the constant Tribune drones;—shrill - Galleries supplying, very variably, the tenor and treble. It were a dull - tune otherwise. - </p> - - <p> - The Patriots, in Mountain and Galleries, or taking counsel nightly in - Section-house, in Mother Society, amid their shrill <i>Tricoteuses</i>, - have to watch lynx-eyed; to give voice when needful; occasionally very - loud. Deputy Thuriot, he who was Advocate Thuriot, who was Elector - Thuriot, and from the top of the Bastille, saw Saint-Antoine rising like - the ocean; this Thuriot can stretch a Formula as heartily as most men. - Cruel Billaud is not silent, if you incite him. Nor is cruel Jean-Bon - silent; a kind of Jesuit he too;—write him not, as the Dictionaries - too often do, <i>Jambon</i>, which signifies mere <i>Ham</i>. - </p> - - <p> - But, on the whole, let no man conceive it possible that Louis is not - guilty. The only question for a reasonable man is, or was: Can the - Convention judge Louis? Or must it be the whole People: in Primary - Assembly, and with delay? Always delay, ye Girondins, false <i>hommes - d’état!</i> so bellows Patriotism, its patience almost failing.—But - indeed, if we consider it, what shall these poor Girondins do? Speak - their convictions that Louis is a Prisoner of War; and cannot be put to - death without injustice, solecism, peril? Speak such conviction; and lose - utterly your footing with the decided Patriot? Nay properly it is not - even a conviction, but a conjecture and dim puzzle. How many poor - Girondins are sure of but one thing: That a man and Girondin ought to - <i>have</i> footing somewhere, and to stand firmly on it; keeping well - with the Respectable Classes! <i>This</i> is what conviction and - assurance of faith they have. They must wriggle painfully between their - dilemma-horns.<a href="#linknote-591" name="linknoteref-591" - id="linknoteref-591">[591]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nor is France idle, nor Europe. It is a Heart this Convention, as we - said, which sends out influences, and receives them. A King’s Execution, - call it Martyrdom, call it Punishment, were an influence! Two notable - influences this Convention has already sent forth, over all Nations; much - to its own detriment. On the 19th of November, it emitted a Decree, and - has since confirmed and unfolded the details of it. That any Nation which - might see good to shake off the fetters of Despotism was thereby, so to - speak, the Sister of France, and should have help and countenance. A - Decree much noised of by Diplomatists, Editors, International Lawyers; - such a Decree as no living Fetter of Despotism, nor Person in Authority - anywhere, can approve of! It was Deputy Chambon the Girondin who - propounded this Decree;—at bottom perhaps as a flourish of - rhetoric. - </p> - - <p> - The second influence we speak of had a still poorer origin: in the - restless loud-rattling slightly-furnished head of one Jacob Dupont from - the Loire country. The Convention is speculating on a plan of National - Education: Deputy Dupont in his speech says, ‘I am free to avow, M. le - Président, that I for my part am an Atheist,’<a href="#linknote-592" - name="linknoteref-592" id="linknoteref-592">[592]</a>—thinking the - world might like to know that. The French world received it without - commentary; or with no audible commentary, so <i>loud</i> was France - otherwise. The Foreign world received it with confutation, with horror - and astonishment;<a href="#linknote-593" name="linknoteref-593" - id="linknoteref-593">[593]</a> a most miserable influence this! And now - if to these two were added a third influence, and sent pulsing abroad - over all the Earth: that of Regicide? - </p> - - <p> - Foreign Courts interfere in this Trial of Louis; Spain, England: not to - be listened to; though they come, as it were, at least Spain comes, with - the olive-branch in one hand, and the sword without scabbard in the - other. But at home too, from out of this circumambient Paris and France, - what influences come thick-pulsing! Petitions flow in; pleading for equal - justice, in a reign of so-called Equality. The living Patriot - pleads;—O ye National Deputies, do not the dead Patriots plead? The - Twelve Hundred that lie in cold obstruction, do not they plead; and - petition, in Death’s dumb-show, from their narrow house there, more - eloquently than speech? Crippled Patriots hop on crutches round the Salle - de Manége, demanding justice. The Wounded of the Tenth of August, the - Widows and Orphans of the Killed petition in a body; and hop and defile, - eloquently mute, through the Hall: one wounded Patriot, unable to hop, is - borne on his bed thither, and passes shoulder-high, in the horizontal - posture.<a href="#linknote-594" name="linknoteref-594" - id="linknoteref-594">[594]</a> The Convention Tribune, which has paused - at such sight, commences again,—droning mere Juristic Oratory. But - out of doors Paris is piping ever higher. Bull-voiced St. Huruge is - heard; and the hysteric eloquence of Mother Duchesse: “Varlet, Apostle of - Liberty,” with pike and red cap, flies hastily, carrying his oratorical - folding-stool. Justice on the Traitor! cries all the Patriot world. - Consider also this other cry, heard loud on the streets: ‘Give us Bread, - or else kill us!’ Bread and Equality; Justice on the Traitor, that we may - have Bread! - </p> - - <p> - The Limited or undecided Patriot is set against the Decided. Mayor - Chambon heard of dreadful rioting at the <i>Théâtre de la Nation:</i> it - had come to rioting, and even to fist-work, between the Decided and the - Undecided, touching a new Drama called <i>Ami des Lois</i> (Friend of the - Laws). One of the poorest Dramas ever written; but which had didactic - applications in it; wherefore powdered wigs of Friends of Order and black - hair of Jacobin heads are flying there; and Mayor Chambon hastens with - Santerre, in hopes to quell it. Far from quelling it, our poor Mayor gets - so “squeezed,” says the Report, and likewise so blamed and bullied, say - we,—that he, with regret, quits the brief Mayoralty altogether, - “his lungs being affected.” This miserable <i>Amis des Lois</i> is - debated of in the Convention itself; so violent, mutually-enraged, are - the Limited Patriots and the Unlimited.<a href="#linknote-595" - name="linknoteref-595" id="linknoteref-595">[595]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Between which two classes, are not Aristocrats enough, and - Crypto-Aristocrats, busy? Spies running over from London with important - Packets; spies pretending to run! One of these latter, Viard was the name - of him, pretended to accuse Roland, and even the Wife of Roland; to the - joy of Chabot and the Mountain. But the Wife of Roland came, being - summoned, on the instant, to the Convention Hall; came, in her high - clearness; and, with few clear words, dissipated this Viard into - despicability and air; all Friends of Order applauding.<a - href="#linknote-596" name="linknoteref-596" - id="linknoteref-596">[596]</a> So, with Theatre-riots, and “Bread, or - else kill us;” with Rage, Hunger, preternatural Suspicion, does this wild - Paris pipe. Roland grows ever more querulous, in his Messages and - Letters; rising almost to the hysterical pitch. Marat, whom no power on - Earth can prevent seeing into traitors and Rolands, takes to bed for - three days; almost dead, the invaluable People’s-Friend, with heartbreak, - with fever and headache: “<i>O, Peuple babillard, si tu savais agir</i>, - People of Babblers, if thou couldst but <i>act!</i>” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - To crown all, victorious Dumouriez, in these New-year’s days, is arrived - in Paris;—one fears, for no good. He pretends to be complaining of - Minister Pache, and Hassenfratz dilapidations; to be concerting measures - for the spring campaign: one finds him much in the company of the - Girondins. Plotting with them against Jacobinism, against Equality, and - the Punishment of Louis! We have Letters of his to the Convention itself. - Will he act the old Lafayette part, this new victorious General? Let him - withdraw again; not undenounced.<a href="#linknote-597" - name="linknoteref-597" id="linknoteref-597">[597]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And still, in the Convention Tribune, it drones continually, mere - Juristic Eloquence, and Hypothesis without Action; and there are still - fifties on the President’s List. Nay these Gironde Presidents give their - own party preference: we suspect they play foul with the List; men of the - Mountain cannot be heard. And still it drones, all through December into - January and a New year; and there is no end! Paris pipes round it; - multitudinous; ever higher, to the note of the whirlwind. Paris will - “bring cannon from Saint-Denis;” there is talk of “shutting the - Barriers,”—to Roland’s horror. - </p> - - <p> - Whereupon, behold, the Convention Tribune suddenly ceases droning: we cut - short, be on the List who likes; and make end. On Tuesday next, the - Fifteenth of January 1793, it shall go to the Vote, name by name; and, - one way or other, this great game play itself out! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0119" id="link2HCH0119"></a> - Chapter 3.2.VII.<br/> - The Three Votings. - </h3> - - <p> - Is Louis Capet guilty of conspiring against Liberty? Shall our Sentence - be itself final, or need ratifying by Appeal to the People? If guilty, - what Punishment? This is the form agreed to, after uproar and “several - hours of tumultuous indecision:” these are the Three successive - Questions, whereon the Convention shall now pronounce. Paris floods round - their Hall; multitudinous, many sounding. Europe and all Nations listen - for their answer. Deputy after Deputy shall answer to his name: Guilty or - Not guilty? - </p> - - <p> - As to the Guilt, there is, as above hinted, no doubt in the mind of - Patriot man. Overwhelming majority pronounces Guilt; the unanimous - Convention votes for Guilt, only some feeble twenty-eight voting not - Innocence, but refusing to vote at all. Neither does the Second Question - prove doubtful, whatever the Girondins might calculate. Would not Appeal - to the People be another name for civil war? Majority of two to one - answers that there shall be no Appeal: this also is settled. Loud - Patriotism, now at ten o’clock, may hush itself for the night; and retire - to its bed not without hope. Tuesday has gone well. On the morrow comes, - What Punishment? On the morrow is the tug of war. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Consider therefore if, on this Wednesday morning, there is an affluence - of Patriotism; if Paris stands a-tiptoe, and all Deputies are at their - post! Seven Hundred and Forty-nine honourable Deputies; only some twenty - absent on mission, Duchâtel and some seven others absent by sickness. - Meanwhile expectant Patriotism and Paris standing a-tiptoe, have need of - patience. For this Wednesday again passes in debate and effervescence; - Girondins proposing that a “majority of three-fourths” shall be required; - Patriots fiercely resisting them. Danton, who has just got back from - mission in the Netherlands, does obtain “order of the day” on this - Girondin proposal; nay he obtains further that we decide <i>sans - désemparer</i>, in Permanent-session, till we have done. - </p> - - <p> - And so, finally, at eight in the evening this Third stupendous Voting, by - roll-call or <i>appel nominal</i>, does begin. What Punishment? Girondins - undecided, Patriots decided, men afraid of Royalty, men afraid of - Anarchy, must answer here and now. Infinite Patriotism, dusky in the - lamp-light, floods all corridors, crowds all galleries, sternly waiting - to hear. Shrill-sounding Ushers summon you by Name and Department; you - must rise to the Tribune and say. - </p> - - <p> - Eye-witnesses have represented this scene of the Third Voting, and of the - votings that grew out of it; a scene protracted, like to be endless, - lasting, with few brief intervals, from Wednesday till Sunday - morning,—as one of the strangest seen in the Revolution. Long night - wears itself into day, morning’s paleness is spread over all faces; and - again the wintry shadows sink, and the dim lamps are lit: but through day - and night and the vicissitude of hours, Member after Member is mounting - continually those Tribune-steps; pausing aloft there, in the clearer - upper light, to speak his Fate-word; then diving down into the dusk and - throng again. Like Phantoms in the hour of midnight; most spectral, - pandemonial! Never did President Vergniaud, or any terrestrial President, - superintend the like. A King’s Life, and so much else that depends - thereon, hangs trembling in the balance. Man after man mounts; the buzz - hushes itself till he have spoken: Death; Banishment: Imprisonment till - the Peace. Many say, Death; with what cautious well-studied phrases and - paragraphs they could devise, of explanation, of enforcement, of faint - recommendation to mercy. Many too say, Banishment; something short of - Death. The balance trembles, none can yet guess whitherward. Whereat - anxious Patriotism bellows; irrepressible by Ushers. - </p> - - <p> - The poor Girondins, many of them, under such fierce bellowing of - Patriotism, say Death; justifying, <i>motivant</i>, that most miserable - word of theirs by some brief casuistry and jesuitry. Vergniaud himself - says, Death; justifying by jesuitry. Rich Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau had - been of the Noblesse, and then of the Patriot Left Side, in the - Constituent; and had argued and reported, there and elsewhere, not a - little, <i>against</i> Capital Punishment: nevertheless he now says, - Death; a word which may cost him dear. Manuel did surely rank with the - Decided in August last; but he has been sinking and backsliding ever - since September, and the scenes of September. In this Convention, above - all, no word he could speak would find favour; he says now, Banishment; - and in mute wrath quits the place for ever,—much hustled in the - corridors. Philippe Egalité votes in his soul and conscience, Death, at - the sound of which, and of whom, even Patriotism shakes its head; and - there runs a groan and shudder through this Hall of Doom. Robespierre’s - vote cannot be doubtful; his speech is long. Men see the figure of shrill - Sieyes ascend; hardly pausing, passing merely, this figure says, ‘<i>La - Mort sans phrase</i>, Death without phrases;’ and fares onward and - downward. Most spectral, pandemonial! - </p> - - <p> - And yet if the Reader fancy it of a funereal, sorrowful or even grave - character, he is far mistaken. “The Ushers in the Mountain quarter,” says - Mercier, “had become as Box-openers at the Opera;” opening and shutting - of Galleries for privileged persons, for “d’Orléans Egalité’s - mistresses,” or other high-dizened women of condition, rustling with - laces and tricolor. Gallant Deputies pass and repass thitherward, - treating them with ices, refreshments and small-talk; the high-dizened - heads beck responsive; some have their card and pin, pricking down the - Ayes and Noes, as at a game of <i>Rouge-et-Noir</i>. Further aloft reigns - Mère Duchesse with her unrouged Amazons; she cannot be prevented making - long <i>Hahas</i>, when the vote is not <i>La Mort</i>. In these - Galleries there is refection, drinking of wine and brandy “as in open - tavern, <i>en pleine tabagie</i>.” Betting goes on in all coffeehouses of - the neighbourhood. But within doors, fatigue, impatience, uttermost - weariness sits now on all visages; lighted up only from time to time, by - turns of the game. Members have fallen asleep; Ushers come and awaken - them to vote: other Members calculate whether they shall not have time to - run and dine. Figures rise, like phantoms, pale in the dusky lamp-light; - utter from this Tribune, only one word: Death. “<i>Tout est optique</i>,” - says Mercier, “the world is all an optical shadow.”<a - href="#linknote-598" name="linknoteref-598" - id="linknoteref-598">[598]</a> Deep in the Thursday night, when the - Voting is done, and Secretaries are summing it up, sick Duchâtel, more - spectral than another, comes borne on a chair, wrapt in blankets, “in - nightgown and nightcap,” to vote for Mercy: one vote it is thought may - turn the scale. - </p> - - <p> - Ah no! In profoundest silence, President Vergniaud, with a voice full of - sorrow, has to say: ‘I declare, in the name of the Convention, that the - Punishment it pronounces on Louis Capet is that of Death.’ Death by a - small majority of Fifty-three. Nay, if we deduct from the one side, and - add to the other, a certain Twenty-six, who said Death but coupled some - faintest ineffectual surmise of mercy with it, the majority will be but - <i>One</i>. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Death is the sentence: but its execution? It is not executed yet! - Scarcely is the vote declared when Louis’s Three Advocates enter; with - Protest in his name, with demand for Delay, for Appeal to the People. For - this do Desèze and Tronchet plead, with brief eloquence: brave old - Malesherbes pleads for it with eloquent want of eloquence, in broken - sentences, in embarrassment and sobs; that brave time-honoured face, with - its grey strength, its broad sagacity and honesty, is mastered with - emotion, melts into dumb tears.<a href="#linknote-599" - name="linknoteref-599" id="linknoteref-599">[599]</a>—They reject - the Appeal to the People; that having been already settled. But as to the - Delay, what they call <i>Sursis</i>, it <i>shall</i> be considered; shall - be voted for tomorrow: at present we adjourn. Whereupon Patriotism - “hisses” from the Mountain: but a “tyrannical majority” has so decided, - and adjourns. - </p> - - <p> - There is still this <i>fourth</i> Vote then, growls indignant - Patriotism:—this vote, and who knows what other votes, and - adjournments of voting; and the whole matter still hovering hypothetical! - And at every new vote those Jesuit Girondins, even they who voted for - Death, would so fain find a loophole! Patriotism must watch and rage. - Tyrannical adjournments there have been; one, and now another at midnight - on plea of fatigue,—all Friday wasted in hesitation and higgling; - in <i>re</i>-counting of the votes, which are found correct as they - stood! Patriotism bays fiercer than ever; Patriotism, by long-watching, - has become red-eyed, almost rabid. - </p> - - <p> - ‘Delay: yes or no?’ men do vote it finally, all Saturday, all day and - night. Men’s nerves are worn out, men’s hearts are desperate; now it - shall end. Vergniaud, spite of the baying, ventures to say Yes, Delay; - though he had voted Death. Philippe Egalité says, in his soul and - conscience, No. The next Member mounting: ‘Since Philippe says No, I for - my part say Yes, <i>Moi je dis Oui</i>.’ The balance still trembles. Till - finally, at three o’clock on Sunday morning, we have: <i>No Delay</i>, by - a majority of Seventy; <i>Death within four-and-twenty hours!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Garat Minister of Justice has to go to the Temple, with this stern - message: he ejaculates repeatedly, ‘<i>Quelle commission affreuse</i>, - What a frightful function!’<a href="#linknote-600" name="linknoteref-600" - id="linknoteref-600">[600]</a> Louis begs for a Confessor; for yet three - days of life, to prepare himself to die. The Confessor is granted; the - three days and all respite are refused. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - There is no deliverance, then? Thick stone walls answer, None—Has - King Louis no friends? Men of action, of courage grown desperate, in this - his extreme need? King Louis’s friends are feeble and far. Not even a - voice in the coffeehouses rises for him. At Méot the Restaurateur’s no - Captain Dampmartin now dines; or sees death-doing whiskerandoes on - furlough exhibit daggers of improved structure! Méot’s gallant Royalists - on furlough are far across the Marches; they are wandering distracted - over the world: or their bones lie whitening Argonne Wood. Only some weak - Priests “leave Pamphlets on all the bournestones,” this night, calling - for a rescue; calling for the pious women to rise; or are taken - distributing Pamphlets, and sent to prison.<a href="#linknote-601" - name="linknoteref-601" id="linknoteref-601">[601]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nay there is one death-doer, of the ancient Méot sort, who, with effort, - has done even less and worse: slain a Deputy, and set all the Patriotism - of Paris on edge! It was five on Saturday evening when Lepelletier St. - Fargeau, having given his vote, <i>No Delay</i>, ran over to Février’s in - the Palais Royal to snatch a morsel of dinner. He had dined, and was - paying. A thickset man “with black hair and blue beard,” in a loose kind - of frock, stept up to him; it was, as Février and the bystanders - bethought them, one Pâris of the old King’s-Guard. ‘Are you Lepelletier?’ - asks he.—‘Yes.’—‘You voted in the King’s Business?’—‘I - voted Death.’—‘<i>Scélérat</i>, take that!’ cries Pâris, flashing - out a sabre from under his frock, and plunging it deep in Lepelletier’s - side. Février clutches him; but he breaks off; is gone. - </p> - - <p> - The voter Lepelletier lies dead; he has expired in great pain, at one in - the morning;—two hours before that Vote of <i>No Delay</i> was - fully summed up! Guardsman Pâris is flying over France; cannot be taken; - will be found some months after, self-shot in a remote inn.<a - href="#linknote-602" name="linknoteref-602" - id="linknoteref-602">[602]</a>—Robespierre sees reason to think - that Prince d’Artois himself is privately in Town; that the Convention - will be butchered in the lump. Patriotism sounds mere wail and vengeance: - Santerre doubles and trebles all his patrols. Pity is lost in rage and - fear; the Convention has refused the three days of life and all respite. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0120" id="link2HCH0120"></a> - Chapter 3.2.VIII.<br/> - Place de la Révolution. - </h3> - - <p> - To this conclusion, then, hast thou come, O hapless Louis! The Son of - Sixty Kings is to die on the Scaffold by form of law. Under Sixty Kings - this same form of Law, form of Society, has been fashioning itself - together, these thousand years; and has become, one way and other, a most - strange Machine. Surely, if needful, it is also frightful this Machine; - dead, blind; not what it should be; which, with swift stroke, or by cold - slow torture, has wasted the lives and souls of innumerable men. And - behold now a King himself, or say rather Kinghood in his person, is to - expire here in cruel tortures;—like a Phalaris shut in the belly of - his own red-heated Brazen Bull! It is ever so; and thou shouldst know it, - O haughty tyrannous man: injustice breeds injustice; curses and - falsehoods do verily “return always home,” wide as they may wander. - Innocent Louis bears the sins of many generations: he too experiences - that man’s tribunal is not in this Earth; that if he had no Higher one, - it were not well with him. - </p> - - <p> - A King dying by such violence appeals impressively to the imagination; as - the like must do, and ought to do. And yet at bottom it is not the King - dying, but the Man! Kingship is a coat; the grand loss is of the skin. - The man from whom you take his Life, to him can the whole combined world - do <i>more?</i> Lally went on his hurdle, his mouth filled with a gag. - Miserablest mortals, doomed for picking pockets, have a whole five-act - Tragedy in them, in that dumb pain, as they go to the gallows, - unregarded; they consume the cup of trembling down to the lees. For Kings - and for Beggars, for the justly doomed and the unjustly, it is a hard - thing to die. Pity them all: thy utmost pity with all aids and appliances - and throne-and-scaffold contrasts, how far short is it of the thing - pitied! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - A Confessor has come; Abbé Edgeworth, of Irish extraction, whom the King - knew by good report, has come promptly on this solemn mission. Leave the - Earth alone, then, thou hapless King; it with its malice will go its way, - thou also canst go thine. A hard scene yet remains: the parting with our - loved ones. Kind hearts, environed in the same grim peril with us; to be - left <i>here!</i> Let the Reader look with the eyes of Valet Cléry, - through these glass-doors, where also the Municipality watches; and see - the cruellest of scenes: - </p> - - <p> - “At half-past eight, the door of the ante-room opened: the Queen appeared - first, leading her Son by the hand; then Madame Royale and Madame - Elizabeth: they all flung themselves into the arms of the King. Silence - reigned for some minutes; interrupted only by sobs. The Queen made a - movement to lead his Majesty towards the inner room, where M. Edgeworth - was waiting unknown to them: ‘No,’ said the King, ‘let us go into the - dining-room, it is there only that I can see you.’ They entered there; I - shut the door of it, which was of glass. The King sat down, the Queen on - his left hand, Madame Elizabeth on his right, Madame Royale almost in - front; the young Prince remained standing between his Father’s legs. They - all leaned towards him, and often held him embraced. This scene of woe - lasted an hour and three-quarters; during which we could hear nothing; we - could see only that always when the King spoke, the sobbings of the - Princesses redoubled, continued for some minutes; and that then the King - began again to speak.”<a href="#linknote-603" name="linknoteref-603" - id="linknoteref-603">[603]</a>—And so our meetings and our partings - do now end! The sorrows we gave each other; the poor joys we faithfully - shared, and all our lovings and our sufferings, and confused toilings - under the earthly Sun, are over. Thou good soul, I shall never, never - through all ages of Time, see thee any more!—NEVER! O Reader, - knowest thou that hard word? - </p> - - <p> - For nearly two hours this agony lasts; then they tear themselves asunder. - ‘Promise that you will see us on the morrow.’ He promises:—Ah yes, - yes; yet once; and go now, ye loved ones; cry to God for yourselves and - me!—It was a hard scene, but it is over. He will not see them on - the morrow. The Queen in passing through the ante-room glanced at the - Cerberus Municipals; and with woman’s vehemence, said through her tears, - ‘<i>Vous êtes tous des scélérats</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - King Louis slept sound, till five in the morning, when Cléry, as he had - been ordered, awoke him. Cléry dressed his hair. While this went forward, - Louis took a ring from his watch, and kept trying it on his finger; it - was his wedding-ring, which he is now to return to the Queen as a mute - farewell. At half-past six, he took the Sacrament; and continued in - devotion, and conference with Abbé Edgeworth. He will not see his Family: - it were too hard to bear. - </p> - - <p> - At eight, the Municipals enter: the King gives them his Will and messages - and effects; which they, at first, brutally refuse to take charge of: he - gives them a roll of gold pieces, a hundred and twenty-five louis; these - are to be returned to Malesherbes, who had lent them. At nine, Santerre - says the hour is come. The King begs yet to retire for three minutes. At - the end of three minutes, Santerre again says the hour is come. “Stamping - on the ground with his right foot, Louis answers: ‘<i>Partons</i>, let us - go.’”—How the rolling of those drums comes in, through the Temple - bastions and bulwarks, on the heart of a queenly wife; soon to be a - widow! He is gone, then, and has not seen us? A Queen weeps bitterly; a - King’s Sister and Children. Over all these Four does Death also hover: - all shall perish miserably save one; she, as Duchesse d’Angouleme, will - live,—not happily. - </p> - - <p> - At the Temple Gate were some faint cries, perhaps from voices of pitiful - women: ‘<i>Grâce! Grâce!</i>’ Through the rest of the streets there is - silence as of the grave. No man not armed is allowed to be there: the - armed, did any even pity, dare not express it, each man overawed by all - his neighbours. All windows are down, none seen looking through them. All - shops are shut. No wheel-carriage rolls this morning, in these streets - but one only. Eighty thousand armed men stand ranked, like armed statues - of men; cannons bristle, cannoneers with match burning, but no word or - movement: it is as a city enchanted into silence and stone; one carriage - with its escort, slowly rumbling, is the only sound. Louis reads, in his - Book of Devotion, the Prayers of the Dying: clatter of this death-march - falls sharp on the ear, in the great silence; but the thought would fain - struggle heavenward, and forget the Earth. - </p> - - <p> - As the clocks strike ten, behold the Place de la Révolution, once Place - de Louis Quinze: the Guillotine, mounted near the old Pedestal where once - stood the Statue of that Louis! Far round, all bristles with cannons and - armed men: spectators crowding in the rear; d’Orléans Egalité there in - cabriolet. Swift messengers, <i>hoquetons</i>, speed to the Townhall, - every three minutes: near by is the Convention sitting,—vengeful - for Lepelletier. Heedless of all, Louis reads his Prayers of the Dying; - not till five minutes yet has he finished; then the Carriage opens. What - temper he is in? Ten different witnesses will give ten different accounts - of it. He is in the collision of all tempers; arrived now at the black - Mahlstrom and descent of Death: in sorrow, in indignation, in resignation - struggling to be resigned. ‘Take care of M. Edgeworth,’ he straitly - charges the Lieutenant who is sitting with them: then they two descend. - </p> - - <p> - The drums are beating: ‘<i>Taisez-vous</i>, Silence!’ he cries “in a - terrible voice, <i>d’une voix terrible</i>.” He mounts the scaffold, not - without delay; he is in puce coat, breeches of grey, white stockings. He - strips off the coat; stands disclosed in a sleeve-waistcoat of white - flannel. The Executioners approach to bind him: he spurns, resists; Abbé - Edgeworth has to remind him how the Saviour, in whom men trust, submitted - to be bound. His hands are tied, his head bare; the fatal moment is come. - He advances to the edge of the Scaffold, “his face very red,” and says: - ‘Frenchmen, I die innocent: it is from the Scaffold and near appearing - before God that I tell you so. I pardon my enemies; I desire that - France—’ A General on horseback, Santerre or another, prances out - with uplifted hand: ‘<i>Tambours!</i>’ The drums drown the voice. - ‘Executioners do your duty!’ The Executioners, desperate lest themselves - be murdered (for Santerre and his Armed Ranks will strike, if they do - not), seize the hapless Louis: six of them desperate, him singly - desperate, struggling there; and bind him to their plank. Abbé Edgeworth, - stooping, bespeaks him: ‘Son of Saint Louis, ascend to Heaven.’ The Axe - clanks down; a King’s Life is shorn away. It is Monday the 21st of - January 1793. He was aged Thirty-eight years four months and twenty-eight - days.<a href="#linknote-604" name="linknoteref-604" - id="linknoteref-604">[604]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Executioner Samson shews the Head: fierce shout of <i>Vive la - République</i> rises, and swells; caps raised on bayonets, hats waving: - students of the College of Four Nations take it up, on the far Quais; - fling it over Paris. Orleans drives off in his cabriolet; the Townhall - Councillors rub their hands, saying, ‘It is done, It is done.’ There is - dipping of handkerchiefs, of pike-points in the blood. Headsman Samson, - though he afterwards denied it,<a href="#linknote-605" - name="linknoteref-605" id="linknoteref-605">[605]</a> sells locks of the - hair: fractions of the puce coat are long after worn in rings.<a - href="#linknote-606" name="linknoteref-606" - id="linknoteref-606">[606]</a>—And so, in some half-hour it is - done; and the multitude has all departed. Pastrycooks, coffee-sellers, - milkmen sing out their trivial quotidian cries: the world wags on, as if - this were a common day. In the coffeehouses that evening, says Prudhomme, - Patriot shook hands with Patriot in a more cordial manner than usual. Not - till some days after, according to Mercier, did public men see what a - grave thing it was. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - A grave thing it indisputably is; and will have consequences. On the - morrow morning, Roland, so long steeped to the lips in disgust and - chagrin, sends in his demission. His accounts lie all ready, correct in - black-on-white to the uttermost farthing: these he wants but to have - audited, that he might retire to remote obscurity to the country and his - books. They will never be audited those accounts; he will never get - retired thither. - </p> - - <p> - It was on Tuesday that Roland demitted. On Thursday comes Lepelletier St. - Fargeau’s Funeral, and passage to the Pantheon of Great Men. Notable as - the wild pageant of a winter day. The Body is borne aloft, half-bare; the - winding sheet disclosing the death-wound: sabre and bloody clothes parade - themselves; a “lugubrious music” wailing harsh <i>næniæ</i>. Oak-crowns - shower down from windows; President Vergniaud walks there, with - Convention, with Jacobin Society, and all Patriots of every colour, all - mourning brotherlike. - </p> - - <p> - Notable also for another thing, this Burial of Lepelletier: it was the - last act these men ever did with concert! All Parties and figures of - Opinion, that agitate this distracted France and its Convention, now - stand, as it were, face to face, and dagger to dagger; the King’s Life, - round which they all struck and battled, being hurled down. Dumouriez, - conquering Holland, growls ominous discontent, at the head of Armies. Men - say Dumouriez will have a King; that young d’Orléans Egalité shall be his - King. Deputy Fauchet, in the <i>Journal des Amis</i>, curses his day, - more bitterly than Job did; invokes the poniards of Regicides, of “Arras - Vipers” or Robespierres, of Pluto Dantons, of horrid Butchers Legendre - and Simulacra d’Herbois, to send him swiftly to another world than - <i>theirs</i>.<a href="#linknote-607" name="linknoteref-607" - id="linknoteref-607">[607]</a> This is <i>Te-Deum</i> Fauchet, of the - Bastille Victory, of the <i>Cercle Social</i>. Sharp was the death-hail - rattling round one’s Flag-of-truce, on that Bastille day: but it was soft - to such wreckage of high Hope as this; one’s New Golden Era going down in - leaden dross, and sulphurous black of the Everlasting Darkness! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - At home this Killing of a King has divided all friends; and abroad it has - united all enemies. Fraternity of Peoples, Revolutionary Propagandism; - Atheism, Regicide; total destruction of social order in this world! All - Kings, and lovers of Kings, and haters of Anarchy, rank in coalition; as - in a war for life. England signifies to Citizen Chauvelin, the Ambassador - or rather Ambassador’s-Cloak, that he must quit the country in eight - days. Ambassador’s-Cloak and Ambassador, Chauvelin and Talleyrand, depart - accordingly.<a href="#linknote-608" name="linknoteref-608" - id="linknoteref-608">[608]</a> Talleyrand, implicated in that Iron Press - of the Tuileries, thinks it safest to make for America. - </p> - - <p> - England has cast out the Embassy: England declares war,—being - shocked principally, it would seem, at the condition of the River - Scheldt. Spain declares war; being shocked principally at some other - thing; which doubtless the Manifesto indicates.<a href="#linknote-609" - name="linknoteref-609" id="linknoteref-609">[609]</a> Nay we find it was - not England that declared war first, or Spain first; but that France - herself declared war first on both of them;<a href="#linknote-610" - name="linknoteref-610" id="linknoteref-610">[610]</a>—a point of - immense Parliamentary and Journalistic interest in those days, but which - has become of no interest whatever in these. They all declare war. The - sword is drawn, the scabbard thrown away. It is even as Danton said, in - one of his all-too gigantic figures: ‘The coalised Kings threaten us; we - hurl at their feet, as gage of battle, the Head of a King.’ - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0142" id="link2H_4_0142"></a> - BOOK 3.III.<br/> - THE GIRONDINS - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0121" id="link2HCH0121"></a> - Chapter 3.3.I.<br/> - Cause and Effect. - </h3> - - <p> - This huge Insurrectionary Movement, which we liken to a breaking out of - Tophet and the Abyss, has swept away Royalty, Aristocracy, and a King’s - life. The question is, What will it next do; how will it henceforth shape - itself? Settle down into a reign of Law and Liberty; according as the - habits, persuasions and endeavours of the educated, monied, respectable - class prescribe? That is to say: the volcanic lava-flood, bursting up in - the manner described, will explode and flow according to Girondin Formula - and pre-established rule of Philosophy? If so, for our Girondin friends - it will be well. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile were not the prophecy rather that as no external force, Royal - or other, now remains which could control this Movement, the Movement - will follow a course of its own; probably a very original one? Further, - that whatsoever man or men can best interpret the inward tendencies it - has, and give them voice and activity, will obtain the lead of it? For - the rest, that as a thing <i>without</i> order, a thing proceeding from - beyond and beneath the region of order, it must work and welter, not as a - Regularity but as a Chaos; destructive and self-destructive; always till - something that <i>has</i> order arise, strong enough to bind it into - subjection again? Which something, we may further conjecture, will not be - a Formula, with philosophical propositions and forensic eloquence; but a - Reality, probably with a sword in its hand! - </p> - - <p> - As for the Girondin Formula, of a respectable Republic for the Middle - Classes, all manner of Aristocracies being now sufficiently demolished, - there seems little reason to expect that the business will stop there. - <i>Liberty, Equality, Fraternity</i>, these are the words; enunciative - and prophetic. Republic for the respectable washed Middle Classes, how - can that be the fulfilment thereof? Hunger and nakedness, and nightmare - oppression lying heavy on Twenty-five million hearts; this, not the - wounded vanities or contradicted philosophies of philosophical Advocates, - rich Shopkeepers, rural Noblesse, was the prime mover in the French - Revolution; as the like will be in all such Revolutions, in all - countries. Feudal Fleur-de-lys had become an insupportably bad marching - banner, and needed to be torn and trampled: but Moneybag of Mammon (for - that, in these times, is what the respectable Republic for the Middle - Classes will signify) is a still worse, while it lasts. Properly, indeed, - it is the worst and basest of all banners, and symbols of dominion among - men; and indeed is possible only in a time of general Atheism, and - Unbelief in any thing save in brute Force and Sensualism; pride of birth, - pride of office, any known kind of pride being a degree better than - purse-pride. Freedom, Equality, Brotherhood: not in the Moneybag, but far - elsewhere, will Sansculottism seek these things. - </p> - - <p> - We say therefore that an Insurrectionary France, loose of control from - without, destitute of supreme order from within, will form one of the - most tumultuous Activities ever seen on this Earth; such as no Girondin - Formula can regulate. An immeasurable force, made up of forces manifold, - heterogeneous, compatible and incompatible. In plainer words, this France - must needs split into Parties; each of which seeking to make itself good, - contradiction, exasperation will arise; and Parties on Parties find that - they cannot work together, cannot exist together. - </p> - - <p> - As for the number of Parties, there will, strictly counting, be as many - Parties as there are Opinions. According to which rule, in this National - Convention itself, to say nothing of France generally, the number of - Parties ought to be Seven Hundred and Forty-Nine; for every unit - entertains his opinion. But now as every unit has at once an individual - nature, or necessity to follow his own road, and a gregarious nature or - necessity to see himself travelling by the side of others,—what can - there be but dissolutions, precipitations, endless turbulence of - attracting and repelling; till once the master-element get evolved, and - this wild alchemy arrange itself again? - </p> - - <p> - To the length of Seven Hundred and Forty-nine Parties, however, no Nation - was ever yet seen to go. Nor indeed much beyond the length of Two - Parties; two at a time;—so invincible is man’s tendency to unite, - with all the invincible divisiveness he has! Two Parties, we say, are the - usual number at one time: let these two fight it out, all minor shades of - party rallying under the shade likest them; when the one has fought down - the other, then it, in its turn, may divide, self-destructive; and so the - process continue, as far as needful. This is the way of Revolutions, - which spring up as the French one has done; when the so-called Bonds of - Society snap asunder; and all Laws that are not Laws of Nature become - naught and Formulas merely. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But quitting these somewhat abstract considerations, let History note - this concrete reality which the streets of Paris exhibit, on Monday the - 25th of February 1793. Long before daylight that morning, these streets - are noisy and angry. Petitioning enough there has been; a Convention - often solicited. It was but yesterday there came a Deputation of - Washerwomen with Petition; complaining that not so much as soap could be - had; to say nothing of bread, and condiments of bread. The cry of women, - round the Salle de Manége, was heard plaintive: ‘<i>Du pain et du - savon</i>, Bread and Soap.’<a href="#linknote-611" name="linknoteref-611" - id="linknoteref-611">[611]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And now from six o’clock, this Monday morning, one perceives the Baker’s - Queues unusually expanded, angrily agitating themselves. Not the Baker - alone, but two Section Commissioners to help him, manage with difficulty - the daily distribution of loaves. Soft-spoken assiduous, in the early - candle-light, are Baker and Commissioners: and yet the pale chill - February sunrise discloses an unpromising scene. Indignant Female - Patriots, partly supplied with bread, rush now to the shops, declaring - that they will have groceries. Groceries enough: sugar-barrels rolled - forth into the street, Patriot Citoyennes weighing it out at a just rate - of eleven-pence a pound; likewise coffee-chests, soap-chests, nay - cinnamon and cloves-chests, with <i>aquavitæ</i> and other forms of - alcohol,—at a just rate, which some do not pay; the pale-faced - Grocer silently wringing his hands! What help? The distributive - Citoyennes are of violent speech and gesture, their long Eumenides’ hair - hanging out of curl; nay in their girdles pistols are seen sticking: - some, it is even said, have <i>beards</i>,—male Patriots in - petticoats and mob-cap. Thus, in the streets of Lombards, in the street - of Five-Diamonds, street of Pullies, in most streets of Paris does it - effervesce, the livelong day; no Municipality, no Mayor Pache, though he - was War-Minister lately, sends military against it, or aught against it - but persuasive-eloquence, till seven at night, or later. - </p> - - <p> - On Monday gone five weeks, which was the twenty-first of January, we saw - Paris, beheading its King, stand silent, like a petrified City of - Enchantment: and now on this Monday it is so noisy, selling sugar! - Cities, especially Cities in Revolution, are subject to these - alternations; the secret courses of civic business and existence - effervescing and efflorescing, in this manner, as a concrete Phenomenon - to the eye. Of which Phenomenon, when secret existence becoming public - effloresces on the street, the philosophical cause-and-effect is not so - easy to find. What, for example, may be the accurate philosophical - meaning, and meanings, of this sale of sugar? These things that have - become visible in the street of Pullies and over Paris, whence are they, - we say; and whither?— - </p> - - <p> - That Pitt has a hand in it, the gold of Pitt: so much, to all reasonable - Patriot men, may seem clear. But then, through what agents of Pitt? - Varlet, Apostle of Liberty, was discerned again of late, with his pike - and his red nightcap. Deputy Marat published in his journal, this very - day, complaining of the bitter scarcity, and sufferings of the people, - till he seemed to get wroth: “If your Rights of Man were anything but a - piece of written paper, the plunder of a few shops, and a forestaller or - two hung up at the door-lintels, would put an end to such things.”<a - href="#linknote-612" name="linknoteref-612" - id="linknoteref-612">[612]</a> Are not these, say the Girondins, pregnant - indications? Pitt has bribed the Anarchists; Marat is the agent of Pitt: - hence this sale of sugar. To the Mother Society, again, it is clear that - the scarcity is factitious; is the work of Girondins, and such like; a - set of men sold partly to Pitt; sold wholly to their own ambitions, and - hard-hearted pedantries; who will not fix the grain-prices, but prate - pedantically of free-trade; wishing to starve Paris into violence, and - embroil it with the Departments: <i>hence</i> this sale of sugar. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And, alas, if to these two notabilities, of a Phenomenon and such - Theories of a Phenomenon, we add this third notability, That the French - Nation has believed, for several years now, in the possibility, nay - certainty and near advent, of a universal Millennium, or reign of - Freedom, Equality, Fraternity, wherein man should be the brother of man, - and sorrow and sin flee away? Not bread to eat, nor soap to wash with; - and the reign of perfect Felicity ready to arrive, due always since the - Bastille fell! How did our hearts burn within us, at that Feast of Pikes, - when brother flung himself on brother’s bosom; and in sunny jubilee, - Twenty-five millions burst forth into sound and cannon-smoke! Bright was - our Hope then, as sunlight; red-angry is our Hope grown now, as consuming - fire. But, O Heavens, what enchantment is it, or devilish legerdemain, of - such effect, that Perfect Felicity, always within arm’s length, could - never be laid hold of, but only in her stead Controversy and Scarcity? - This set of traitors after that set! Tremble, ye traitors; dread a People - which calls itself patient, long-suffering; but which cannot always - submit to have its pocket picked, in this way,—of a Millennium! - </p> - - <p> - Yes, Reader, here is a miracle. Out of that putrescent rubbish of - Scepticism, Sensualism, Sentimentalism, hollow Machiavelism, such a Faith - has verily risen; flaming in the heart of a People. A whole People, - awakening as it were to consciousness in deep misery, believes that it is - within reach of a Fraternal Heaven-on-Earth. With longing arms, it - struggles to embrace the Unspeakable; cannot embrace it, owing to certain - causes.—Seldom do we find that a whole People can be said to have - any Faith at all; except in things which it can eat and handle. - Whensoever it gets any Faith, its history becomes spirit-stirring, - note-worthy. But since the time when steel Europe shook itself - simultaneously, at the word of Hermit Peter, and rushed towards the - Sepulchre where God had lain, there was no universal impulse of Faith - that one could note. Since Protestantism went silent, no Luther’s voice, - no Zisca’s drum any longer proclaiming that God’s Truth was <i>not</i> - the Devil’s Lie; and the last of the Cameronians (Renwick was the name of - him; honour to the name of the brave!) sank, shot, on the Castle Hill of - Edinburgh, there was no partial impulse of Faith among Nations. Till now, - behold, once more this French Nation believes! Herein, we say, in that - astonishing Faith of theirs, lies the miracle. It is a Faith undoubtedly - of the more prodigious sort, even among Faiths; and will embody itself in - prodigies. It is the soul of that world-prodigy named French Revolution; - whereat the world still gazes and shudders. - </p> - - <p> - But, for the rest, let no man ask History to explain by cause-and-effect - how the business proceeded henceforth. This battle of Mountain and - Gironde, and what follows, is the battle of Fanaticisms and Miracles; - unsuitable for cause-and-effect. The sound of it, to the mind, is as a - hubbub of voices in distraction; little of articulate is to be gathered - by long listening and studying; only battle-tumult, shouts of triumph, - shrieks of despair. The Mountain has left no Memoirs; the Girondins have - left Memoirs, which are too often little other than long-drawn - Interjections, of <i>Woe is me and Cursed be ye</i>. So soon as History - can philosophically delineate the conflagration of a kindled Fireship, - she may try this other task. Here lay the bitumen-stratum, there the - brimstone one; so ran the vein of gunpowder, of nitre, terebinth and foul - grease: this, were she inquisitive enough, History might partly know. But - how they acted and reacted below decks, one fire-stratum playing into the - other, by its nature and the art of man, now when all hands ran raging, - and the flames lashed high over shrouds and topmast: this let not History - attempt. - </p> - - <p> - The Fireship is old France, the old French Form of Life; her creed a - Generation of men. Wild are their cries and their ragings there, like - spirits tormented in that flame. But, on the whole, are they not - <i>gone</i>, O Reader? Their Fireship and they, frightening the world, - have sailed away; its flames and its thunders quite away, into the Deep - of Time. One thing therefore History will do: pity them all; for it went - hard with them all. Not even the seagreen Incorruptible but shall have - some pity, some human love, though it takes an effort. And now, so much - once thoroughly attained, the rest will become easier. To the eye of - equal brotherly pity, innumerable perversions dissipate themselves; - exaggerations and execrations fall off, of their own accord. Standing - wistfully on the safe shore, we will look, and see, what is of interest - to us, what is adapted to us. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0122" id="link2HCH0122"></a> - Chapter 3.3.II.<br/> - Culottic and Sansculottic. - </h3> - - <p> - Gironde and Mountain are now in full quarrel; their mutual rage, says - Toulongeon, is growing a “pale” rage. Curious, lamentable: all these men - have the word Republic on their lips; in the heart of every one of them - is a passionate wish for something which he calls Republic: yet see their - death-quarrel! So, however, are men made. Creatures who live in - confusion; who, once thrown together, can readily fall into that - confusion of confusions which quarrel is, simply because their confusions - differ from one another; still more because they seem to differ! Men’s - words are a poor exponent of their thought; nay their thought itself is a - poor exponent of the inward unnamed Mystery, wherefrom both thought and - action have their birth. No man can explain himself, can get himself - explained; men see not one another but distorted phantasms which they - call one another; which they hate and go to battle with: for all battle - is well said to be <i>misunderstanding</i>. - </p> - - <p> - But indeed that similitude of the Fireship; of our poor French brethren, - so fiery themselves, working also in an <i>element</i> of fire, was not - insignificant. Consider it well, there is a shade of the truth in it. For - a man, once committed headlong to republican or any other - Transcendentalism, and fighting and fanaticising amid a Nation of his - like, becomes as it were enveloped in an ambient atmosphere of - Transcendentalism and Delirium: his individual self is lost in something - that is not himself, but foreign though inseparable from him. Strange to - think of, the man’s cloak still seems to hold the same man: and yet the - man is not there, his volition is not there; nor the source of what he - will do and devise; instead of the man and his volition there is a piece - of Fanaticism and Fatalism incarnated in the shape of him. He, the - hapless incarnated Fanaticism, goes his road; no man can help him, he - himself least of all. It is a wonderful tragical predicament;—such - as human language, unused to deal with these things, being contrived for - the uses of common life, struggles to shadow out in figures. The ambient - element of material fire is not wilder than this of Fanaticism; nor, - though visible to the eye, is it more real. Volition bursts forth - involuntary; rapt along; the movement of free human minds becomes a - raging tornado of fatalism, blind as the winds; and Mountain and Gironde, - when they recover themselves, are alike astounded to see <i>where</i> it - has flung and dropt them. To such height of miracle can men work on men; - the Conscious and the Unconscious blended inscrutably in this our - inscrutable Life; endless Necessity environing Freewill! - </p> - - <p> - The weapons of the Girondins are Political Philosophy, Respectability and - Eloquence. Eloquence, or call it rhetoric, really of a superior order; - Vergniaud, for instance, turns a period as sweetly as any man of that - generation. The weapons of the Mountain are those of mere nature: - Audacity and Impetuosity which may become Ferocity, as of men complete in - their determination, in their conviction; nay of men, in some cases, who - as Septemberers must either prevail or perish. The ground to be fought - for is Popularity: further you may either seek Popularity with the - friends of Freedom and Order, or with the friends of Freedom Simple; to - seek it with both has unhappily become impossible. With the former sort, - and generally with the Authorities of the Departments, and such as read - Parliamentary Debates, and are of Respectability, and of a peace-loving - monied nature, the Girondins carry it. With the extreme Patriot again, - with the indigent millions, especially with the Population of Paris who - do not read so much as hear and see, the Girondins altogether lose it, - and the Mountain carries it. - </p> - - <p> - Egoism, nor meanness of mind, is not wanting on either side. Surely not - on the Girondin side; where in fact the instinct of self-preservation, - too prominently unfolded by circumstances, cuts almost a sorry figure; - where also a certain finesse, to the length even of shuffling and - shamming, now and then shews itself. They are men skilful in - Advocate-fence. They have been called the Jesuits of the Revolution;<a - href="#linknote-613" name="linknoteref-613" - id="linknoteref-613">[613]</a> but that is too hard a name. It must be - owned likewise that this rude blustering Mountain has a sense in it of - what the Revolution means; which these eloquent Girondins are totally - void of. Was the Revolution made, and fought for, against the world, - these four weary years, that a Formula might be substantiated; that - Society might become <i>methodic</i>, demonstrable by logic; and the old - Noblesse with their pretensions vanish? Or ought it not withal to bring - some glimmering of light and alleviation to the Twenty-five Millions, who - sat in darkness, heavy-laden, till they rose with pikes in their hands? - At least and lowest, one would think, it should bring them a proportion - of bread to live on? There is in the Mountain here and there; in Marat - People’s-friend; in the incorruptible Seagreen himself, though otherwise - so lean and formularly, a heartfelt knowledge of this latter - fact;—without which knowledge all other knowledge here is naught, - and the choicest forensic eloquence is as sounding brass and a tinkling - cymbal. Most cold, on the other hand, most patronising, unsubstantial is - the tone of the Girondins towards “our poorer brethren;”—those - brethren whom one often hears of under the collective name of “the - masses,” as if they were not persons at all, but mounds of combustible - explosive material, for blowing down Bastilles with! In very truth, a - Revolutionist of this kind, is he not a Solecism? Disowned by Nature and - Art; deserving only to be erased, and disappear! Surely, to our poorer - brethren of Paris, all this Girondin patronage sounds deadening and - killing: if fine-spoken and incontrovertible in logic, then all the - falser, all the hatefuller in fact. - </p> - - <p> - Nay doubtless, pleading for Popularity, here among our poorer brethren of - Paris, the Girondin has a hard game to play. If he gain the ear of the - Respectable at a distance, it is by insisting on September and such like; - it is at the expense of this Paris where he dwells and perorates. Hard to - perorate in such an auditory! Wherefore the question arises: Could we not - get ourselves out of this Paris? Twice or oftener such an attempt is - made. If not we ourselves, thinks Guadet, then at least our - <i>Suppléans</i> might do it. For every Deputy has his <i>Suppléant</i>, - or Substitute, who will take his place if need be: might not these - assemble, say at Bourges, which is a quiet episcopal Town, in quiet - Berri, forty good leagues off? In that case, what profit were it for the - Paris Sansculottery to insult us; our <i>Suppléans</i> sitting quiet in - Bourges, to whom we could run? Nay even the Primary electoral Assemblies, - thinks Guadet, might be reconvoked, and a New Convention got, with new - orders from the Sovereign people; and right glad were Lyons, were - Bourdeaux, Rouen, Marseilles, as yet Provincial Towns, to welcome us in - their turn, and become a sort of Capital Towns; and teach these Parisians - reason. - </p> - - <p> - Fond schemes; which all misgo! If decreed, in heat of eloquent logic, - today, they are repealed, by clamour, and passionate wider - considerations, on the morrow.<a href="#linknote-614" - name="linknoteref-614" id="linknoteref-614">[614]</a> Will you, O - Girondins, parcel us into separate Republics, then; like the Swiss, like - your Americans; so that there be no Metropolis or indivisible French - Nation any more? Your Departmental Guard seemed to point that way! - Federal Republic? Federalist? Men and Knitting-women repeat - <i>Fédéraliste</i>, with or without much Dictionary-meaning; but go on - repeating it, as is usual in such cases, till the meaning of it becomes - almost magical, fit to designate all mystery of Iniquity; and - <i>Fédéraliste</i> has grown a word of Exorcism and <i>Apage-Satanas</i>. - But furthermore, consider what “poisoning of public opinion” in the - Departments, by these Brissot, Gorsas, Caritat-Condorcet Newspapers! And - then also what counter-poisoning, still feller in quality, by a <i>Père - Duchesne</i> of Hébert, brutallest Newspaper yet published on Earth; by a - <i>Rougiff</i> of Guffroy; by the “incendiary leaves of Marat!” More than - once, on complaint given and effervescence rising, it is decreed that a - man cannot both be Legislator and Editor; that he shall choose between - the one function and the other.<a href="#linknote-615" - name="linknoteref-615" id="linknoteref-615">[615]</a> But this too, which - indeed could help little, is revoked or eluded; remains a pious wish - mainly. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile, as the sad fruit of such strife, behold, O ye National - Representatives, how between the friends of Law and the friends of - Freedom everywhere, mere heats and jealousies have arisen; fevering the - whole Republic! Department, Provincial Town is set against Metropolis, - Rich against Poor, Culottic against Sansculottic, man against man. From - the Southern Cities come Addresses of an almost inculpatory character; - for Paris has long suffered Newspaper calumny. Bourdeaux demands a reign - of Law and Respectability, meaning Girondism, with emphasis. With - emphasis Marseilles demands the like. Nay from Marseilles there come - <i>two</i> Addresses: one Girondin; one Jacobin Sansculottic. Hot - Rebecqui, sick of this Convention-work, has given place to his - Substitute, and gone home; where also, with such jarrings, there is work - to be sick of. - </p> - - <p> - Lyons, a place of Capitalists and Aristocrats, is in still worse state; - almost in revolt. Chalier the Jacobin Town-Councillor has got, too - literally, to daggers-drawn with Nièvre-Chol the <i>Modératin</i> Mayor; - one of your Moderate, perhaps Aristocrat, Royalist or Federalist Mayors! - Chalier, who pilgrimed to Paris “to behold Marat and the Mountain,” has - verily kindled himself at their sacred urn: for on the 6th of February - last, History or Rumour has seen him haranguing his Lyons Jacobins in a - quite transcendental manner, with a drawn dagger in his hand; - recommending (they say) sheer September-methods, patience being worn out; - and that the Jacobin Brethren should, impromptu, work the Guillotine - themselves! One sees him still, in Engravings: mounted on a table; foot - advanced, body contorted; a bald, rude, slope-browed, infuriated visage - of the canine species, the eyes starting from their sockets; in his - puissant right-hand the brandished dagger, or horse-pistol, as some give - it; other dog-visages kindling under him:—a man not likely to end - well! However, the Guillotine was <i>not</i> got together impromptu, that - day, “on the Pont Saint-Clair,” or elsewhere; but indeed continued lying - rusty in its loft:<a href="#linknote-616" name="linknoteref-616" - id="linknoteref-616">[616]</a> Nièvre-Chol with military went about, - rumbling cannon, in the most confused manner; and the “nine hundred - prisoners” received no hurt. So distracted is Lyons grown, with its - cannon rumbling. Convention Commissioners must be sent thither forthwith: - if even they can appease it, and keep the Guillotine in its loft? - </p> - - <p> - Consider finally if, on all these mad jarrings of the Southern Cities, - and of France generally, a traitorous Crypto-Royalist class is not - looking and watching; ready to strike in, at the right season! Neither is - there bread; neither is there soap: see the Patriot women selling out - sugar, at a just rate of twenty-two sous per pound! Citizen - Representatives, it were verily well that your quarrels finished, and the - reign of Perfect Felicity began. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0123" id="link2HCH0123"></a> - Chapter 3.3.III.<br/> - Growing Shrill. - </h3> - - <p> - On the whole, one cannot say that the Girondins are wanting to - themselves, so far as good-will might go. They prick assiduously into the - sore-places of the Mountain; from principle, and also from jesuitism. - </p> - - <p> - Besides September, of which there is now little to be made except - effervescence, we discern two sore-places where the Mountain often - suffers: Marat and Orléans Egalité. Squalid Marat, for his own sake and - for the Mountain’s, is assaulted ever and anon; held up to France, as a - squalid bloodthirsty Portent, inciting to the pillage of shops; of whom - let the Mountain have the credit! The Mountain murmurs, ill at ease: this - “Maximum of Patriotism,” how shall they either own him or disown him? As - for Marat personally, he, with his fixed-idea, remains invulnerable to - such things: nay the People’s-friend is very evidently rising in - importance, as his befriended People rises. No shrieks now, when he goes - to speak; occasional applauses rather, furtherance which breeds - confidence. The day when the Girondins proposed to “decree him accused” - (<i>décréter d’accusation</i>, as they phrase it) for that February - Paragraph, of “hanging up a Forestaller or two at the door-lintels,” - Marat proposes to have <i>them</i> “decreed insane;” and, descending the - Tribune-steps, is heard to articulate these most unsenatorial - ejaculations: ‘<i>Les Cochons, les imbecilles</i>, Pigs, idiots!’ - Oftentimes he croaks harsh sarcasm, having really a rough rasping tongue, - and a very deep fund of contempt for fine outsides; and once or twice, he - even laughs, nay “explodes into laughter, <i>rit aux éclats</i>,” at the - gentilities and superfine airs of these Girondin ‘men of statesmanship,’ - with their pedantries, plausibilities, pusillanimities: ‘these two - years,’ says he, ‘you have been whining about attacks, and plots, and - danger from Paris; and you have not a scratch to shew for yourselves.’<a - href="#linknote-617" name="linknoteref-617" - id="linknoteref-617">[617]</a>—Danton gruffly rebukes him, from - time to time: a Maximum of Patriotism, whom one can neither own nor - disown! - </p> - - <p> - But the second sore-place of the Mountain is this anomalous Monseigneur - Equality Prince d’Orléans. Behold these men, says the Gironde; with a - whilom Bourbon Prince among them: they are creatures of the D’Orléans - Faction; they will have Philippe made King; one King no sooner - guillotined than another made in his stead! Girondins have moved, Buzot - moved long ago, from principle and also from jesuitism, that the whole - race of Bourbons should be marched forth from the soil of France; this - Prince Egalité to bring up the rear. Motions which might produce some - effect on the public;—which the Mountain, ill at ease, knows not - what to do with. - </p> - - <p> - And poor Orléans Egalité himself, for one begins to pity even him, what - does he do with them? The disowned of all parties, the rejected and - foolishly be-drifted hither and hither, to what corner of Nature can he - now drift with advantage? Feasible hope remains not for him: unfeasible - hope, in pallid doubtful glimmers, there may still come, bewildering, not - cheering or illuminating,—from the Dumouriez quarter; and how, if - not the timewasted Orléans Egalité, then perhaps the young unworn - Chartres Egalité might rise to be a kind of King? Sheltered, if shelter - it be, in the clefts of the Mountain, poor Egalité will wait: one refuge - in Jacobinism, one in Dumouriez and Counter-Revolution, are there not two - chances? However, the look of him, Dame Genlis says, is grown gloomy; sad - to see. Sillery also, the Genlis’s Husband, who hovers about the - Mountain, not on it, is in a bad way. Dame Genlis has come to Raincy, out - of England and Bury St. Edmunds, in these days; being summoned by - Egalité, with her young charge, Mademoiselle Egalité, that so - Mademoiselle might not be counted among Emigrants and hardly dealt with. - But it proves a ravelled business: Genlis and charge find that they must - retire to the Netherlands; must wait on the Frontiers for a week or two; - till Monseigneur, by Jacobin help, get it wound up. “Next morning,” says - Dame Genlis, “Monseigneur, gloomier than ever, gave me his arm, to lead - me to the carriage. I was greatly troubled; Mademoiselle burst into - tears; her Father was pale and trembling. After I had got seated, he - stood immovable at the carriage-door, with his eyes fixed on me; his - mournful and painful look seemed to implore pity;—‘<i>Adieu, - Madame!</i>’ said he. The altered sound of his voice completely overcame - me; not able to utter a word, I held out my hand; he grasped it close; - then turning, and advancing sharply towards the postillions, he gave them - a sign, and we rolled away.”<a href="#linknote-618" - name="linknoteref-618" id="linknoteref-618">[618]</a> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nor are Peace-makers wanting; of whom likewise we mention two; one fast - on the crown of the Mountain, the other not yet alighted anywhere: Danton - and Barrère. Ingenious Barrère, Old-Constituent and Editor from the - slopes of the Pyrenees, is one of the usefullest men of this Convention, - in his way. Truth may lie on both sides, on either side, or on neither - side; my friends, ye must give and take: for the rest, success to the - winning side! This is the motto of Barrère. Ingenious, almost genial; - quick-sighted, supple, graceful; a man that will prosper. Scarcely Belial - in the assembled Pandemonium was plausibler to ear and eye. An - indispensable man: in the great <i>Art of Varnish</i> he may be said to - seek his fellow. Has there an explosion arisen, as many do arise, a - confusion, unsightliness, which no tongue can speak of, nor eye look on; - give it to Barrère; Barrère shall be Committee-Reporter of it; you shall - see it transmute itself into a regularity, into the very beauty and - improvement that was needed. Without one such man, we say, how were this - Convention bested? Call him not, as exaggerative Mercier does, “the - greatest liar in France:” nay it may be argued there is not truth enough - in him to make a real lie of. Call him, with Burke, Anacreon of the - Guillotine, and a man serviceable to this Convention. - </p> - - <p> - The other Peace-maker whom we name is Danton. Peace, O peace with one - another! cries Danton often enough: Are we not alone against the world; a - little band of brothers? Broad Danton is loved by all the Mountain; but - they think him too easy-tempered, deficient in suspicion: he has stood - between Dumouriez and much censure, anxious not to exasperate our only - General: in the shrill tumult Danton’s strong voice reverberates, for - union and pacification. Meetings there are; dinings with the Girondins: - it is so pressingly essential that there be union. But the Girondins are - haughty and respectable; this Titan Danton is not a man of Formulas, and - there rests on him a shadow of September. ‘Your Girondins have no - confidence in me:’ this is the answer a conciliatory Meillan gets from - him; to all the arguments and pleadings this conciliatory Meillan can - bring, the repeated answer is, ‘<i>Ils n’ont point de confiance</i>.’<a - href="#linknote-619" name="linknoteref-619" - id="linknoteref-619">[619]</a>—The tumult will get ever shriller; - rage is growing pale. - </p> - - <p> - In fact, what a pang is it to the heart of a Girondin, this first - withering probability that the despicable unphilosophic anarchic - Mountain, after all, may triumph! Brutal Septemberers, a fifth-floor - Tallien, “a Robespierre without an idea in his head,” as Condorcet says, - “or a feeling in his heart:” and yet we, the flower of France, cannot - stand against them; behold the sceptre departs from us; from us and goes - to them! Eloquence, Philosophism, Respectability avail not: “against - Stupidity the very gods fight to no purpose, - </p> - - <p class="poem"> - “Mit der Dummheit kämpfen Götter selbst vergebens!” - </p> - - <p> - Shrill are the plaints of Louvet; his thin existence all acidified into - rage, and preternatural insight of suspicion. Wroth is young Barbaroux; - wroth and scornful. Silent, like a Queen with the aspic on her bosom, - sits the wife of Roland; Roland’s Accounts never yet got audited, his - name become a byword. Such is the fortune of war, especially of - revolution. The great gulf of Tophet, and Tenth of August, opened itself - at the magic of your eloquent voice; and lo now, it will not close at - your voice! It is a dangerous thing such magic. The Magician’s Famulus - got hold of the forbidden Book, and summoned a goblin: <i>Plait-il</i>, - What is your will? said the Goblin. The Famulus, somewhat struck, bade - him fetch water: the swift goblin fetched it, pail in each hand; but lo, - would not cease fetching it! Desperate, the Famulus shrieks at him, - smites at him, cuts him in two; lo, <i>two</i> goblin water-carriers ply; - and the house will be swum away in Deucalion Deluges. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0124" id="link2HCH0124"></a> - Chapter 3.3.IV.<br/> - Fatherland in Danger. - </h3> - - <p> - Or rather we will say, this Senatorial war might have lasted long; and - Party tugging and throttling with Party might have suppressed and - smothered one another, in the ordinary bloodless Parliamentary way; on - one condition: that France had been at least able to exist, all the - while. But this Sovereign People has a digestive faculty, and cannot do - without bread. Also we are at war, and must have victory; at war with - Europe, with Fate and Famine: and behold, in the spring of the year, all - victory deserts us. - </p> - - <p> - Dumouriez had his outposts stretched as far as Aix-la-Chapelle, and the - beautifullest plan for pouncing on Holland, by stratagem, flat-bottomed - boats and rapid intrepidity; wherein too he had prospered so far; but - unhappily could prosper no further. Aix-la-Chapelle is lost; Maestricht - will not surrender to mere smoke and noise: the flat-bottomed boats must - launch themselves again, and return the way they came. Steady now, ye - rapidly intrepid men; retreat with firmness, Parthian-like! Alas, were it - General Miranda’s fault; were it the War-minister’s fault; or were it - Dumouriez’s own fault and that of Fortune: enough, there is nothing for - it but retreat,—well if it be not even flight; for already - terror-stricken cohorts and stragglers pour off, not waiting for order; - flow disastrous, as many as ten thousand of them, without halt till they - see France again.<a href="#linknote-620" name="linknoteref-620" - id="linknoteref-620">[620]</a> Nay worse: Dumouriez himself is perhaps - secretly turning traitor? Very sharp is the tone in which he writes to - our Committees. Commissioners and Jacobin Pillagers have done such - incalculable mischief; Hassenfratz sends neither cartridges nor clothing; - shoes we have, deceptively “soled with wood and pasteboard.” Nothing in - short is right. Danton and Lacroix, when it was they that were - Commissioners, would needs join Belgium to France;—of which - Dumouriez might have made the prettiest little Duchy for his own secret - behoof! With all these things the General is wroth; and writes to us in a - sharp tone. Who knows what this hot little General is meditating? - Dumouriez Duke of Belgium or Brabant; and say, Egalité the Younger King - of France: there were an end for our Revolution!—Committee of - Defence gazes, and shakes its head: who except Danton, defective in - suspicion, could still struggle to be of hope? - </p> - - <p> - And General Custine is rolling back from the Rhine Country; conquered - Mentz will be reconquered, the Prussians gathering round to bombard it - with shot and shell. Mentz may resist, Commissioner Merlin, the - Thionviller, “making sallies, at the head of the besieged;”—resist - to the death; but not longer than that. How sad a reverse for Mentz! - Brave Foster, brave Lux planted Liberty-trees, amid <i>ça-ira</i>-ing - music, in the snow-slush of last winter, there: and made Jacobin - Societies; and got the Territory incorporated with France: they came - hither to Paris, as Deputies or Delegates, and have their eighteen francs - a-day: but see, before once the Liberty-Tree is got rightly in leaf, - Mentz is changing into an explosive crater; vomiting fire, bevomited with - fire! - </p> - - <p> - Neither of these men shall again see Mentz; they have come hither only to - die. Foster has been round the Globe; he saw Cook perish under Owyhee - clubs; but like this Paris he has yet seen or suffered nothing. Poverty - escorts him: from home there can nothing come, except Job’s-news; the - eighteen daily francs, which we here as Deputy or Delegate with - difficulty “touch,” are in paper <i>assignats</i>, and sink fast in - value. Poverty, disappointment, inaction, obloquy; the brave heart slowly - breaking! Such is Foster’s lot. For the rest, Demoiselle Théroigne smiles - on you in the Soirees; “a beautiful brownlocked face,” of an exalted - temper; and contrives to keep her carriage. Prussian Trenck, the poor - subterranean Baron, jargons and jangles in an unmelodious manner. Thomas - Paine’s face is red-pustuled, “but the eyes uncommonly bright.” - Convention Deputies ask you to dinner: very courteous; and “we all play - at <i>plumsack</i>.”<a href="#linknote-621" name="linknoteref-621" - id="linknoteref-621">[621]</a> “It is the Explosion and New-creation of a - World,” says Foster; “and the actors in it, such small mean objects, - buzzing round one like a handful of flies.”— - </p> - - <p> - Likewise there is war with Spain. Spain will advance through the gorges - of the Pyrenees; rustling with Bourbon banners; jingling with artillery - and menace. And England has donned the red coat; and marches, with Royal - Highness of York,—whom some once spake of inviting to be our King. - Changed that humour now: and ever more changing; till no hatefuller thing - walk this Earth than a denizen of that tyrannous Island; and Pitt be - declared and decreed, with effervescence, “<i>L’ennemi du genre - humain</i>, The enemy of mankind;” and, very singular to say, you make an - order that no Soldier of Liberty give quarter to an Englishman. Which - order however, the Soldier of Liberty does but partially obey. We will - take no Prisoners then, say the Soldiers of Liberty; they shall all be - “Deserters” that we take.<a href="#linknote-622" name="linknoteref-622" - id="linknoteref-622">[622]</a> It is a frantic order; and attended with - inconvenience. For surely, if you give no quarter, the plain issue is - that you will get none; and so the business become as broad as it was - long.—Our “recruitment of Three Hundred Thousand men,” which was - the decreed force for this year, is like to have work enough laid to its - hand. - </p> - - <p> - So many enemies come wending on; penetrating through throats of - Mountains, steering over the salt sea; towards all points of our - territory; rattling chains at us. Nay worst of all: there is an enemy - within our own territory itself. In the early days of March, the Nantes - Postbags do not arrive; there arrive only instead of them Conjecture, - Apprehension, bodeful wind of Rumour. The bodefullest proves true! Those - fanatic Peoples of La Vendée will no longer keep under: their fire of - insurrection, heretofore dissipated with difficulty, blazes out anew, - after the King’s Death, as a wide conflagration; not riot, but civil war. - Your Cathelineaus, your Stofflets, Charettes, are other men than was - thought: behold how their Peasants, in mere russet and hodden, with their - rude arms, rude array, with their fanatic Gaelic frenzy and wild-yelling - battle-cry of <i>God and the King</i>, dash at us like a dark whirlwind; - and blow the best-disciplined Nationals we can get into panic and - <i>sauve-qui-peut!</i> Field after field is theirs; one sees not where it - will end. Commandant Santerre may be sent thither; but with non-effect; - he might as well have returned and brewed beer. - </p> - - <p> - It has become peremptorily necessary that a National Convention cease - arguing, and begin acting. Yield one party of you to the other, and do it - swiftly. No theoretic outlook is here, but the close certainty of ruin; - the very day that is passing over must be provided for. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - It was Friday the eighth of March when this Job’s-post from Dumouriez, - thickly preceded and escorted by so many other Job’s-posts, reached the - National Convention. Blank enough are most faces. Little will it avail - whether our Septemberers be punished or go unpunished; if Pitt and - Cobourg are coming in, with one punishment for us all; nothing now - between Paris itself and the Tyrants but a doubtful Dumouriez, and hosts - in loose-flowing loud retreat!—Danton the Titan rises in this hour, - as always in the hour of need. Great is his voice, reverberating from the - domes:—Citizen-Representatives, shall we not, in such crisis of - Fate, lay aside discords? Reputation: O what is the reputation of this - man or of that? <i>Que mon nom soit flétri, que la France soit libre</i>, - Let my name be blighted; let France be free! It is necessary now again - that France rise, in swift vengeance, with her million right-hands, with - her heart as of one man. Instantaneous recruitment in Paris; let every - Section of Paris furnish its thousands; every section of France! - Ninety-six Commissioners of us, two for each Section of the Forty-eight, - they must go forthwith, and tell Paris what the Country needs of her. Let - Eighty more of us be sent, post-haste, over France; to spread the - fire-cross, to call forth the might of men. Let the Eighty also be on the - road, before this sitting rise. Let them go, and think what their errand - is. Speedy Camp of Fifty thousand between Paris and the North Frontier; - for Paris will pour forth her volunteers! Shoulder to shoulder; one - strong universal death-defiant rising and rushing; we shall hurl back - these Sons of Night yet again; and France, in spite of the world, be - free!<a href="#linknote-623" name="linknoteref-623" - id="linknoteref-623">[623]</a>—So sounds the Titan’s voice: into - all Section-houses; into all French hearts. Sections sit in Permanence, - for recruitment, enrolment, that very night. Convention Commissioners, on - swift wheels, are carrying the fire-cross from Town to Town, till all - France blaze. - </p> - - <p> - And so there is Flag of <i>Fatherland in Danger</i> waving from the - Townhall, Black Flag from the top of Notre-Dame Cathedral; there is - Proclamation, hot eloquence; Paris rushing out once again to strike its - enemies down. That, in such circumstances, Paris was in no mild humour - can be conjectured. Agitated streets; still more agitated round the Salle - de Manége! Feuillans-Terrace crowds itself with angry Citizens, angrier - Citizenesses; Varlet perambulates with portable-chair: ejaculations of no - measured kind, as to perfidious fine-spoken <i>Hommes d’état</i>, friends - of Dumouriez, secret-friends of Pitt and Cobourg, burst from the hearts - and lips of men. To fight the enemy? Yes, and even to ‘freeze him with - terror, <i>glacer d’effroi;</i>’ but first to have domestic Traitors - punished! Who are they that, carping and quarrelling, in their jesuitic - most <i>moderate</i> way, seek to shackle the Patriotic movement? That - divide France against Paris, and poison public opinion in the - Departments? That when we ask for bread, and a Maximum fixed-price, treat - us with lectures on Free-trade in grains? Can the human stomach satisfy - itself with lectures on Free-trade; and are we to fight the Austrians in - a moderate manner, or in an immoderate? This Convention must be - <i>purged</i>. - </p> - - <p> - ‘Set up a swift Tribunal for Traitors, a Maximum for Grains:’ thus speak - with energy the Patriot Volunteers, as they defile through the Convention - Hall, just on the wing to the Frontiers;—perorating in that - heroical Cambyses’ vein of theirs: beshouted by the Galleries and - Mountain; bemurmured by the Right-side and Plain. Nor are prodigies - wanting: lo, while a Captain of the Section Poissonnière perorates with - vehemence about Dumouriez, Maximum, and Crypto-Royalist Traitors, and his - troop beat chorus with him, waving their Banner overhead, the eye of a - Deputy discerns, in this same Banner, that the <i>cravates</i> or - streamers of it have Royal fleurs-de-lys! The Section-Captain shrieks; - his troop shriek, horror-struck, and “trample the Banner under foot:” - seemingly the work of some Crypto-Royalist Plotter? Most probable;<a - href="#linknote-624" name="linknoteref-624" - id="linknoteref-624">[62]</a>—or perhaps at bottom, only the - <i>old</i> Banner of the Section, manufactured prior to the Tenth of - August, when such streamers were according to rule!<a - href="#linknote-625" name="linknoteref-625" - id="linknoteref-625">[625]</a> - </p> - - <p> - History, looking over the Girondin Memoirs, anxious to disentangle the - truth of them from the hysterics, finds these days of March, especially - this Sunday the Tenth of March, play a great part. Plots, plots: a plot - for murdering the Girondin Deputies; Anarchists and Secret-Royalists - plotting, in hellish concert, for that end! The far greater part of which - is hysterics. What we do find indisputable is that Louvet and certain - Girondins were apprehensive they might be murdered on Saturday, and did - not go to the evening sitting: but held council with one another, each - inciting his fellow to do something resolute, and end these Anarchists: - to which, however, Pétion, opening the window, and finding the night very - wet, answered only, ‘<i>Ils ne feront rien</i>,’ and “composedly resumed - his violin,” says Louvet:<a href="#linknote-626" name="linknoteref-626" - id="linknoteref-626">[626]</a> thereby, with soft Lydian tweedledeeing, - to wrap himself against eating cares. Also that Louvet felt especially - liable to being killed; that several Girondins went abroad to seek beds: - liable to being killed; but were not. Further that, in very truth, - Journalist Deputy Gorsas, poisoner of the Departments, he and his Printer - had their houses broken into (by a tumult of Patriots, among whom - red-capped Varlet, American Fournier loom forth, in the darkness of the - rain and riot); had their wives put in fear; their presses, types and - circumjacent equipments beaten to ruin; no Mayor interfering in time; - Gorsas himself escaping, pistol in hand, “along the coping of the back - wall.” Further that Sunday, the morrow, was not a workday; and the - streets were more agitated than ever: Is it a new September, then, that - these Anarchists intend? Finally, that no September came;—and also - that hysterics, not unnaturally, had reached almost their acme.<a - href="#linknote-627" name="linknoteref-627" - id="linknoteref-627">[627]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Vergniaud denounces and deplores; in sweetly turned periods. Section - Bonconseil, <i>Good-counsel</i> so-named, not Mauconseil or - <i>Ill-counsel</i> as it once was,—does a far notabler thing: - demands that Vergniaud, Brissot, Guadet, and other denunciatory - fine-spoken Girondins, to the number of Twenty-two, be put under arrest! - Section Good-counsel, so named ever since the Tenth of August, is sharply - rebuked, like a Section of Ill-counsel;<a href="#linknote-628" - name="linknoteref-628" id="linknoteref-628">[628]</a> but its word is - spoken, and will not fall to the ground. - </p> - - <p> - In fact, one thing strikes us in these poor Girondins; their fatal - shortness of vision; nay fatal poorness of character, for that is the - root of it. They are as strangers to the People they would govern; to the - thing they have come to work in. Formulas, Philosophies, - Respectabilities, what has been written in Books, and admitted by the - Cultivated Classes; <i>this</i> inadequate <i>Scheme</i> of Nature’s - working is all that Nature, let her work as she will, can reveal to these - men. So they perorate and speculate; and call on the Friends of Law, when - the question is not Law or No-Law, but Life or No-Life. Pedants of the - Revolution, if not Jesuits of it! Their Formalism is great; great also is - their Egoism. France rising to fight Austria has been raised only by Plot - of the Tenth of March, to kill Twenty-two of <i>them!</i> This Revolution - Prodigy, unfolding itself into terrific stature and articulation, by its - own laws and Nature’s, not by the laws of Formula, has become - unintelligible, incredible as an impossibility, the waste chaos of a - Dream.” A Republic founded on what they call the Virtues; on what we call - the Decencies and Respectabilities: this they will have, and nothing but - this. Whatsoever other Republic Nature and Reality send, shall be - considered as not sent; as a kind of Nightmare Vision, and thing - non-extant; disowned by the Laws of Nature, and of Formula. Alas! Dim for - the best eyes is this Reality; and as for these men, they will not look - at it with eyes at all, but only through “facetted spectacles” of - Pedantry, wounded Vanity; which yield the most portentous fallacious - spectrum. Carping and complaining forever of Plots and Anarchy, they will - do one thing: prove, to demonstration, that the Reality will not - translate into their Formula; that they and their Formula are - incompatible with the Reality: and, in its dark wrath, the Reality will - extinguish it and them! What a man <i>kens</i> he <i>cans</i>. But the - beginning of a man’s doom is that vision be withdrawn from him; that he - see not the reality, but a false spectrum of the reality; and, following - that, step darkly, with more or less velocity, downwards to the utter - Dark; to Ruin, which is the great Sea of Darkness, whither all - falsehoods, winding or direct, continually flow! - </p> - - <p> - This Tenth of March we may mark as an epoch in the Girondin destinies; - the rage so exasperated itself, the misconception so darkened itself. - Many desert the sittings; many come to them armed.<a href="#linknote-629" - name="linknoteref-629" id="linknoteref-629">[629]</a> An honourable - Deputy, setting out after breakfast, must now, besides taking his Notes, - see whether his Priming is in order. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Meanwhile with Dumouriez in Belgium it fares ever worse. Were it again - General Miranda’s fault, or some other’s fault, there is no doubt - whatever but the “Battle of Nerwinden,” on the 18th of March, is lost; - and our rapid retreat has become a far too rapid one. Victorious Cobourg, - with his Austrian prickers, hangs like a dark cloud on the rear of us: - Dumouriez never off horseback night or day; engagement every three hours; - our whole discomfited Host rolling rapidly inwards, full of rage, - suspicion, and <i>sauve-qui-peut!</i> And then Dumouriez himself, what - his intents may be? Wicked seemingly and not charitable! His despatches - to Committee openly denounce a factious Convention, for the woes it has - brought on France and him. And his speeches—for the General has no - reticence! The Execution of the Tyrant this Dumouriez calls the Murder of - the King. Danton and Lacroix, flying thither as Commissioners once more, - return very doubtful; even Danton now doubts. - </p> - - <p> - Three Jacobin Missionaries, Proly, Dubuisson, Pereyra, have flown forth; - sped by a wakeful Mother Society: they are struck dumb to hear the - General speak. The Convention, according to this General, consists of - three hundred scoundrels and four hundred imbeciles: France cannot do - without a King. ‘But we have executed our King.’ ‘And what is it to me,’ - hastily cries Dumouriez, a General of no reticence, ‘whether the King’s - name be <i>Ludovicus</i> or <i>Jacobus?</i>’ ‘Or <i>Philippus!</i>’ - rejoins Proly;—and hastens to report progress. Over the Frontiers - such hope is there. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0125" id="link2HCH0125"></a> - Chapter 3.3.V.<br/> - Sansculottism Accoutred. - </h3> - - <p> - Let us look, however, at the grand internal Sansculottism and Revolution - Prodigy, whether it stirs and waxes: there and not elsewhere hope may - still be for France. The Revolution Prodigy, as Decree after Decree - issues from the Mountain, like creative <i>fiats</i>, accordant with the - nature of the Thing,—is shaping itself rapidly, in these days, into - terrific stature and articulation, limb after limb. Last March, 1792, we - saw all France flowing in blind terror; shutting town-barriers, boiling - pitch for Brigands: happier, this March, that it is a seeing terror; that - a creative Mountain exists, which can say <i>fiat!</i> Recruitment - proceeds with fierce celerity: nevertheless our Volunteers hesitate to - set out, till Treason be punished at home; they do not fly to the - frontiers; but only fly hither and thither, demanding and denouncing. The - Mountain must speak new <i>fiat</i>, and new <i>fiats</i>. - </p> - - <p> - And does it not speak such? Take, as first example, those <i>Comités - Révolutionnaires</i> for the arrestment of Persons Suspect. Revolutionary - Committee, of Twelve chosen Patriots, sits in every Township of France; - examining the Suspect, seeking arms, making domiciliary visits and - arrestments;—caring, generally, that the Republic suffer no - detriment. Chosen by universal suffrage, each in its Section, they are a - kind of elixir of Jacobinism; some Forty-four Thousand of them awake and - alive over France! In Paris and all Towns, every house-door must have the - names of the inmates legibly printed on it, “at a height not exceeding - five feet from the ground;” every Citizen must produce his certificatory - <i>Carte de Civisme</i>, signed by Section-President; every man be ready - to give account of the faith that is in him. Persons Suspect had as well - depart this soil of Liberty! And yet departure too is bad: all Emigrants - are declared Traitors, their property become National; they are “dead in - Law,”—save indeed that for <i>our</i> behoof they shall “live yet - fifty years in Law,” and what heritages may fall to them in that time - become National too! A mad vitality of Jacobinism, with Forty-four - Thousand centres of activity, circulates through all fibres of France. - </p> - - <p> - Very notable also is the <i>Tribunal Extraordinaire:</i><a - href="#linknote-630" name="linknoteref-630" - id="linknoteref-630">[630]</a> decreed by the Mountain; some Girondins - dissenting, for surely such a Court contradicts every - formula;—other Girondins assenting, nay co-operating, for do not we - all hate Traitors, O ye people of Paris?—Tribunal of the - Seventeenth in Autumn last was swift; but this shall be swifter. Five - Judges; a standing Jury, which is named from Paris and the Neighbourhood, - that there be not delay in naming it: they are subject to no Appeal; to - hardly any Law-forms, but must “get themselves convinced” in all readiest - ways; and for security are bound “to vote audibly;” audibly, in the - hearing of a Paris Public. This is the <i>Tribunal Extraordinaire;</i> - which, in few months, getting into most lively action, shall be entitled - <i>Tribunal Revolutionnaire;</i> as indeed it from the very first has - entitled itself: with a Herman or a Dumas for Judge President, with a - Fouquier-Tinville for Attorney-General, and a Jury of such as Citizen - Leroi, who has surnamed himself <i>Dix-Août</i>, “Leroi - <i>August-Tenth</i>,” it will become the wonder of the world. Herein has - Sansculottism fashioned for itself a Sword of Sharpness: a weapon - magical; tempered in the Stygian hell-waters; to the edge of it all - armour, and defence of strength or of cunning shall be soft; it shall mow - down Lives and Brazen-gates; and the waving of it shed terror through the - souls of men. - </p> - - <p> - But speaking of an amorphous Sansculottism taking form, ought we not - above all things to specify how the Amorphous gets itself a Head? Without - metaphor, this Revolution Government continues hitherto in a very - anarchic state. Executive Council of Ministers, Six in number, there is; - but they, especially since Roland’s retreat, have hardly known whether - they were Ministers or not. Convention Committees sit supreme over them; - but then each Committee as supreme as the others: Committee of - Twenty-one, of Defence, of General Surety; simultaneous or successive, - for specific purposes. The Convention alone is - all-powerful,—especially if the Commune go with it; but is too - numerous for an administrative body. Wherefore, in this perilous - quick-whirling condition of the Republic, before the end of March, we - obtain our small <i>Comité de Salut Public;</i><a href="#linknote-631" - name="linknoteref-631" id="linknoteref-631">[631]</a> as it were, for - miscellaneous accidental purposes, requiring despatch;—as it - proves, for a sort of universal supervision, and universal subjection. - They are to report weekly, these new Committee-men; but to deliberate in - secret. Their number is Nine, firm Patriots all, Danton one of them: - Renewable every month;—yet why not reelect them if they turn out - well? The flower of the matter is that they are but nine; that they sit - in secret. An insignificant-looking thing at first, this Committee; but - with a principle of growth in it! Forwarded by fortune, by internal - Jacobin energy, it will reduce all Committees and the Convention itself - to mute obedience, the Six Ministers to Six assiduous Clerks; and work - its will on the Earth and under Heaven, for a season. “A Committee of - Public Salvation,” whereat the world still shrieks and shudders. - </p> - - <p> - If we call that Revolutionary Tribunal a Sword, which Sansculottism has - provided for itself, then let us call the “Law of the Maximum,” a - Provender-scrip, or Haversack, wherein better or worse some ration of - bread may be found. It is true, Political Economy, Girondin free-trade, - and all law of supply and demand, are hereby hurled topsyturvy: but what - help? Patriotism must live; the “cupidity of farmers” seems to have no - bowels. Wherefore this Law of the Maximum, fixing the highest price of - grains, is, with infinite effort, got passed;<a href="#linknote-632" - name="linknoteref-632" id="linknoteref-632">[632]</a> and shall gradually - extend itself into a Maximum for all manner of <i>comestibles</i> and - commodities: with such scrambling and topsyturvying as may be fancied! - For now, if, for example, the farmer will not sell? The farmer shall be - forced to sell. An accurate Account of what grain he has shall be - delivered in to the Constituted Authorities: let him see that he say not - too much; for in that case, his rents, taxes and contributions will rise - proportionally: let him see that he say not too little; for, on or before - a set day, we shall suppose in April, <i>less</i> than one-third of this - declared quantity, must remain in his barns, more than two-thirds of it - must have been thrashed and sold. One can denounce him, and raise - penalties. - </p> - - <p> - By such inextricable overturning of all Commercial relation will - Sansculottism keep life in; since not otherwise. On the whole, as Camille - Desmoulins says once, ‘while the Sansculottes fight, the Monsieurs must - pay.’ So there come <i>Impôts Progressifs</i>, Ascending Taxes; which - consume, with fast-increasing voracity, and “superfluous-revenue’ of men: - beyond fifty-pounds a-year you are not exempt; rising into the hundreds - you bleed freely; into the thousands and tens of thousands, you bleed - gushing. Also there come Requisitions; there comes “Forced-Loan of a - Milliard,” some Fifty-Millions Sterling; which of course they that - <i>have</i> must lend. Unexampled enough: it has grown to be no country - for the Rich, this; but a country for the Poor! And then if one fly, what - steads it? Dead in Law; nay kept alive fifty years yet, for <i>their</i> - accursed behoof! In this manner, therefore, it goes; topsyturvying, - <i>ça-ira</i>-ing;—and withal there is endless sale of Emigrant - National-Property, there is Cambon with endless cornucopia of Assignats. - The Trade and Finance of Sansculottism; and how, with Maximum and - Bakers’-queues, with Cupidity, Hunger, Denunciation and Paper-money, it - led its galvanic-life, and began and ended,—remains the most - interesting of all Chapters in Political Economy: still to be written. - </p> - - <p> - All which things are they not clean against Formula? O Girondin Friends, - it is not a Republic of the Virtues we are getting; but only a Republic - of the Strengths, virtuous and other! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0126" id="link2HCH0126"></a> - Chapter 3.3.VI.<br/> - The Traitor. - </h3> - - <p> - But Dumouriez, with his fugitive Host, with his King <i>Ludovicus</i> or - King <i>Philippus?</i> There lies the crisis; there hangs the question: - Revolution Prodigy, or Counter-Revolution?—One wide shriek covers - that North-East region. Soldiers, full of rage, suspicion and terror, - flock hither and thither; Dumouriez the many-counselled, never off - horseback, knows now no counsel that were not worse than none: the - counsel, namely, of joining himself with Cobourg; marching to Paris, - extinguishing Jacobinism, and, with some new King Ludovicus or King - Philippus, resting the Constitution of 1791!<a href="#linknote-633" - name="linknoteref-633" id="linknoteref-633">[633]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Is Wisdom quitting Dumouriez; the herald of Fortune quitting him? - Principle, faith political or other, beyond a certain faith of - mess-rooms, and honour of an officer, had him not to quit. At any rate, - his quarters in the Burgh of Saint-Amand; his headquarters in the Village - of Saint-Amand des Boues, a short way off,—have become a Bedlam. - National Representatives, Jacobin Missionaries are riding and running: of - the “three Towns,” Lille, Valenciennes or even Condé, which Dumouriez - wanted to snatch for himself, not one can be snatched: your Captain is - admitted, but the Town-gate is closed on him, and then the Prison gate, - and “his men wander about the ramparts.” Couriers gallop breathless; men - wait, or seem waiting, to assassinate, to be assassinated; Battalions - nigh frantic with such suspicion and uncertainty, with - <i>Vive-la-République</i> and <i>Sauve-qui-peut</i>, rush this way and - that;—Ruin and Desperation in the shape of Cobourg lying entrenched - close by. - </p> - - <p> - Dame Genlis and her fair Princess d’Orléans find this Burgh of - Saint-Amand no fit place for them; Dumouriez’s protection is grown worse - than none. Tough Genlis one of the toughest women; a woman, as it were, - with nine lives in her; whom nothing will beat: she packs her bandboxes; - clear for flight in a private manner. Her beloved Princess she - will—leave here, with the Prince Chartres Egalité her Brother. In - the cold grey of the April morning, we find her accordingly established - in her hired vehicle, on the street of Saint-Amand; postilions just - cracking their whips to go,—when behold the young Princely Brother, - struggling hitherward, hastily calling; bearing the Princess in his arms! - Hastily he has clutched the poor young lady up, in her very night-gown, - nothing saved of her goods except the watch from the pillow: with - brotherly despair he flings her in, among the bandboxes, into Genlis’s - chaise, into Genlis’s arms: Leave her not, in the name of Mercy and - Heaven! A shrill scene, but a brief one:—the postilions crack and - go. Ah, whither? Through by-roads and broken hill-passes: seeking their - way with lanterns after nightfall; through perils, and Cobourg Austrians, - and suspicious French Nationals; finally, into Switzerland; safe though - nigh moneyless.<a href="#linknote-634" name="linknoteref-634" - id="linknoteref-634">[634]</a> The brave young Egalité has a most wild - Morrow to look for; but now only himself to carry through it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - For indeed over at that Village named <i>of the Mudbaths</i>, Saint-Amand - des Boues, matters are still worse. About four o’clock on Tuesday - afternoon, the 2d of April 1793, two Couriers come galloping as if for - life: <i>Mon Général!</i> Four National Representatives, War-Minister at - their head, are posting hitherward, from Valenciennes: are close at - hand,—with what intents one may guess! While the Couriers are yet - speaking, War-Minister and National Representatives, old Camus the - Archivist for chief speaker of them, arrive. Hardly has <i>Mon - Général</i> had time to order out the Huzzar Regiment de Berchigny; that - it take rank and wait near by, in case of accident. And so, enter - War-Minister Beurnonville, with an embrace of friendship, for he is an - old friend; enter Archivist Camus and the other three, following him. - </p> - - <p> - They produce Papers, invite the General to the bar of the Convention: - merely to give an explanation or two. The General finds it unsuitable, - not to say impossible, and that ‘the service will suffer.’ Then comes - reasoning; the voice of the old Archivist getting loud. Vain to reason - loud with this Dumouriez; he answers mere angry irreverences. And so, - amid plumed staff-officers, very gloomy-looking; in jeopardy and - uncertainty, these poor National messengers debate and consult, retire - and re-enter, for the space of some two hours: without effect. Whereupon - Archivist Camus, getting quite loud, proclaims, in the name of the - National Convention, for he has the power to do it, That General - Dumouriez is <i>arrested:</i> ‘Will you obey the National Mandate, - General!’ ‘<i>Pas dans ce moment-ci</i>, Not at this particular moment,’ - answers the General also aloud; then glancing the other way, utters - certain unknown vocables, in a mandatory manner; seemingly a German - word-of-command.<a href="#linknote-635" name="linknoteref-635" - id="linknoteref-635">[635]</a> Hussars clutch the Four National - Representatives, and Beurnonville the War-minister; pack them out of the - apartment; out of the Village, over the lines to Cobourg, in two chaises - that very night,—as hostages, prisoners; to lie long in Maestricht - and Austrian strongholds!<a href="#linknote-636" name="linknoteref-636" - id="linknoteref-636">[636]</a> J<i>acta est alea</i>. - </p> - - <p> - This night Dumouriez prints his “Proclamation;” this night and the morrow - the Dumouriez Army, in such darkness visible, and rage of - semi-desperation as there is, shall meditate what the General is doing, - what they themselves will do in it. Judge whether this Wednesday was of - halcyon nature, for any one! But, on the Thursday morning, we discern - Dumouriez with small escort, with Chartres Egalité and a few - staff-officers, ambling along the Condé Highway: perhaps they are for - Condé, and trying to persuade the Garrison there; at all events, they are - for an interview with Cobourg, who waits in the woods by appointment, in - that quarter. Nigh the Village of Doumet, three National Battalions, a - set of men always full of Jacobinism, sweep past us; marching rather - swiftly,—seemingly in mistake, by a way we had not ordered. The - General dismounts, steps into a cottage, a little from the wayside; will - give them right order in writing. Hark! what strange growling is heard: - what barkings are heard, loud yells of ‘<i>Traitors</i>,’ of - ‘<i>Arrest:</i>’ the National Battalions have wheeled round, are emitting - shot! Mount, Dumouriez, and spring for life! Dumouriez and Staff strike - the spurs in, deep; vault over ditches, into the fields, which prove to - be morasses; sprawl and plunge for life; bewhistled with curses and lead. - Sunk to the middle, with or without horses, several servants killed, they - escape out of shot-range, to General Mack the Austrian’s quarters. Nay - they return on the morrow, to Saint-Amand and faithful foreign Berchigny; - but what boots it? The Artillery has all revolted, is jingling off to - Valenciennes: all have revolted, are revolting; except only foreign - Berchigny, to the extent of some poor fifteen hundred, none will follow - Dumouriez against France and Indivisible Republic: Dumouriez’s - occupation’s gone.<a href="#linknote-637" name="linknoteref-637" - id="linknoteref-637">[637]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such an instinct of Frenehhood and Sansculottism dwells in these men: - they will follow no Dumouriez nor Lafayette, nor any mortal on such - errand. Shriek may be of <i>Sauve-qui-peut</i>, but will also be of - <i>Vive-la-République</i>. New National Representatives arrive; new - General Dampierre, soon killed in battle; new General Custine; the - agitated Hosts draw back to some Camp of Famars; make head against - Cobourg as they can. - </p> - - <p> - And so Dumouriez is in the Austrian quarters; his drama ended, in this - rather sorry manner. A most shifty, wiry man; one of Heaven’s Swiss that - wanted only work. Fifty years of unnoticed toil and valour; one year of - toil and valour, not unnoticed, but seen of all countries and centuries; - then thirty other years again unnoticed, of Memoir-writing, English - Pension, scheming and projecting to no purpose: Adieu thou Swiss of - Heaven, worthy to have been something else! - </p> - - <p> - His Staff go different ways. Brave young Egalité reaches Switzerland and - the Genlis Cottage; with a strong crabstick in his hand, a strong heart - in his body: his Princedom in now reduced to that. Egalité the Father sat - playing whist, in his Palais Egalité, at Paris, on the 6th day of this - same month of April, when a catchpole entered: Citoyen Egalité is wanted - at the Convention Committee!<a href="#linknote-638" - name="linknoteref-638" id="linknoteref-638">[638]</a> Examination, - requiring Arrestment; finally requiring Imprisonment, transference to - Marseilles and the Castle of If! Orléansdom has sunk in the black waters; - Palais Egalité, which was Palais Royal, is like to become Palais - National. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0127" id="link2HCH0127"></a> - Chapter 3.3.VII.<br/> - In Fight. - </h3> - - <p> - Our Republic, by paper Decree, may be “One and Indivisible;” but what - profits it while these things are? Federalists in the Senate, renegadoes - in the Army, traitors everywhere! France, all in desperate recruitment - since the Tenth of March, does not fly to the frontier, but only flies - hither and thither. This defection of contemptuous diplomatic Dumouriez - falls heavy on the fine-spoken high-sniffing <i>Hommes d’état</i>, whom - he consorted with; forms a second epoch in their destinies. - </p> - - <p> - Or perhaps more strictly we might say, the second Girondin epoch, though - little noticed then, began on the day when, in reference to this - defection, the Girondins broke with Danton. It was the first day of - April; Dumouriez had not yet plunged across the morasses to Cobourg, but - was evidently meaning to do it, and our Commissioners were off to arrest - him; when what does the Girondin Lasource see good to do, but rise, and - jesuitically question and insinuate at great length, whether a main - accomplice of Dumouriez had not probably been—Danton? Gironde grins - sardonic assent; Mountain holds its breath. The figure of Danton, - Levasseur says, while this speech went on, was noteworthy. He sat erect, - with a kind of internal convulsion struggling to keep itself motionless; - his eye from time to time flashing wilder, his lip curling in Titanic - scorn.<a href="#linknote-639" name="linknoteref-639" - id="linknoteref-639">[639]</a> Lasource, in a fine-spoken - attorney-manner, proceeds: there is this probability to his mind, and - there is that; probabilities which press painfully on him, which cast the - Patriotism of Danton under a painful shade; which painful shade he, - Lasource, will hope that Danton may find it not impossible to dispel. - </p> - - <p> - ‘<i>Les Scélérats!</i>’ cries Danton, starting up, with clenched - right-hand, Lasource having done: and descends from the Mountain, like a - lava-flood; his answer not unready. Lasource’s probabilities fly like - idle dust; but leave a result behind them. ‘Ye were right, friends of the - Mountain,’ begins Danton, ‘and I was wrong: there is no peace possible - with these men. Let it be war then! They will not save the Republic with - us: it shall be saved without them; saved in spite of them.’ Really a - burst of rude Parliamentary eloquence this; which is still worth reading, - in the old <i>Moniteur!</i> With fire-words the exasperated rude Titan - rives and smites these Girondins; at every hit the glad Mountain utters - chorus: Marat, like a musical <i>bis</i>, repeating the last phrase.<a - href="#linknote-640" name="linknoteref-640" - id="linknoteref-640">[640]</a> Lasource’s probabilities are gone: but - Danton’s pledge of battle remains lying. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - A third epoch, or scene in the Girondin Drama, or rather it is but the - completion of this second epoch, we reckon from the day when the patience - of virtuous Pétion finally boiled over; and the Girondins, so to speak, - took up this battle-pledge of Danton’s and decreed Marat accused. It was - the eleventh of the same month of April, on some effervescence rising, - such as often rose; and President had covered himself, mere Bedlam now - ruling; and Mountain and Gironde were rushing on one another with - clenched right-hands, and even with pistols in them; when, behold, the - Girondin Duperret drew a sword! Shriek of horror rose, instantly - quenching all other effervescence, at sight of the clear murderous steel; - whereupon Duperret returned it to the leather again;—confessing - that he did indeed draw it, being instigated by a kind of sacred madness, - ‘<i>sainte fureur</i>,’ and pistols held at him; but that if he - parricidally had chanced to scratch the outmost skin of National - Representation with it, he too carried pistols, and would have blown his - brains out on the spot.<a href="#linknote-641" name="linknoteref-641" - id="linknoteref-641">[641]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But now in such posture of affairs, virtuous Pétion rose, next morning, - to lament these effervescences, this endless Anarchy invading the - Legislative Sanctuary itself; and here, being growled at and howled at by - the Mountain, his patience, long tried, did, as we say, boil over; and he - spake vehemently, in high key, with foam on his lips; “whence,” says - Marat, “I concluded he had got “<i>la rage</i>,” the rabidity, or - dog-madness. Rabidity smites others rabid: so there rises new foam-lipped - demand to have Anarchists extinguished; and specially to have Marat put - under Accusation. Send a Representative to the Revolutionary Tribunal? - Violate the inviolability of a Representative? Have a care, O Friends! - This poor Marat has faults enough; but against Liberty or Equality, what - fault? That he has loved and fought for it, not wisely but too well. In - dungeons and cellars, in pinching poverty, under anathema of men; even - so, in such fight, has he grown so dingy, bleared; even so has his head - become a Stylites one! Him you will fling to your Sword of Sharpness; - while Cobourg and Pitt advance on us, fire-spitting? - </p> - - <p> - The Mountain is loud, the Gironde is loud and deaf; all lips are foamy. - With “Permanent-Session of twenty-four hours,” with vote by rollcall, and - a dead-lift effort, the Gironde carries it: Marat is ordered to the - Revolutionary Tribunal, to answer for that February Paragraph of - Forestallers at the door-lintel, with other offences; and, after a little - hesitation, he obeys.<a href="#linknote-642" name="linknoteref-642" - id="linknoteref-642">[642]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Thus is Danton’s battle-pledge taken up: there is, as he said there would - be, “war without truce or treaty, <i>ni trève ni composition</i>.” - Wherefore, close now with one another, Formula and Reality, in - death-grips, and wrestle it out; both of you cannot live, but only one! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0128" id="link2HCH0128"></a> - Chapter 3.3.VIII.<br/> - In Death-Grips. - </h3> - - <p> - It proves what strength, were it only of inertia, there is in established - Formulas, what weakness in nascent Realities, and illustrates several - things, that this death-wrestle should still have lasted some six weeks - or more. National business, discussion of the Constitutional Act, for our - Constitution should decidedly be got ready, proceeds along with it. We - even change our Locality; we shift, on the Tenth of May, from the old - Salle de Manége, into our new Hall, in the Palace, once a King’s but now - the Republic’s, of the Tuileries. Hope and ruth, flickering against - despair and rage, still struggles in the minds of men. - </p> - - <p> - It is a most dark confused death-wrestle, this of the six weeks. - Formalist frenzy against Realist frenzy; Patriotism, Egoism, Pride, - Anger, Vanity, Hope and Despair, all raised to the frenetic pitch: Frenzy - meets Frenzy, like dark clashing whirlwinds; neither understands the - other; the weaker, one day, will understand that <i>it</i> is verily - swept down! Girondism is strong as established Formula and - Respectability: do not as many as Seventy-two of the Departments, or say - respectable Heads of Departments, declare for us? Calvados, which loves - its Buzot, will even rise in revolt, so hint the Addresses; Marseilles, - cradle of Patriotism, will rise; Bourdeaux will rise, and the Gironde - Department, as one man; in a word, who will <i>not</i> rise, were our - <i>Représentation Nationale</i> to be insulted, or one hair of a Deputy’s - head harmed! The Mountain, again, is strong as Reality and Audacity. To - the Reality of the Mountain are not all furthersome things possible? A - new Tenth of August, if needful; nay a new Second of September!— - </p> - - <p> - But, on Wednesday afternoon, twenty-fourth day of April, year 1793, what - tumult as of fierce jubilee is this? It is Marat returning from - Revolutionary Tribunal! A week or more of death-peril: and now there is - triumphant acquittal; Revolutionary Tribunal can find no accusation - against this man. And so the eye of History beholds Patriotism, which had - gloomed unutterable things all week, break into loud jubilee, embrace its - Marat; lift him into a chair of triumph, bear him shoulder-high through - the streets. Shoulder-high is the injured People’s-friend, crowned with - an oak-garland; amid the wavy sea of red nightcaps, carmagnole jackets, - grenadier bonnets and female mob-caps; far-sounding like a sea! The - injured People’s-friend has here reached his culminating-point; he too - strikes the stars with his sublime head. - </p> - - <p> - But the Reader can judge with what face President Lasource, he of the - “painful probabilities,” who presides in this Convention Hall, might - welcome such jubilee-tide, when it got thither, and the Decreed of - Accusation floating on the top of it! A National Sapper, spokesman on the - occasion, says, the People know their Friend, and love his life as their - own; ‘whosoever wants Marat’s head must get the Sapper’s first.’<a - href="#linknote-643" name="linknoteref-643" - id="linknoteref-643">[643]</a> Lasource answered with some vague painful - mumblement,—which, says Levasseur, one could not help tittering - at.<a href="#linknote-644" name="linknoteref-644" - id="linknoteref-644">[644]</a> Patriot Sections, Volunteers not yet gone - to the Frontiers, come demanding the ‘purgation of traitors from your own - bosom;’ the expulsion, or even the trial and sentence, of a factious - Twenty-two. - </p> - - <p> - Nevertheless the Gironde has got its Commission of Twelve; a Commission - specially appointed for investigating these troubles of the Legislative - Sanctuary: let Sansculottism say what it will, Law shall triumph. - Old-Constituent Rabaut Saint-Etienne presides over this Commission: ‘it - is the last plank whereon a wrecked Republic may perhaps still save - herself.’ Rabaut and they therefore sit, intent; examining witnesses; - launching arrestments; looking out into a waste dim sea of - troubles.—the womb of <i>Formula</i>, or perhaps her grave! Enter - not that sea, O Reader! There are dim desolation and confusion; raging - women and raging men. Sections come demanding Twenty-two; for the - <i>number</i> first given by Section Bonconseil still holds, though the - names should even vary. Other Sections, of the wealthier kind, come - denouncing such demand; nay the same Section will demand today, and - denounce the demand tomorrow, according as the wealthier sit, or the - poorer. Wherefore, indeed, the Girondins decree that all Sections shall - close “at ten in the evening;” before the working people come: which - Decree remains without effect. And nightly the Mother of Patriotism wails - doleful; doleful, but her eye kindling! And Fournier l’Americain is busy, - and the two Banker Freys, and Varlet Apostle of Liberty; the bull-voice - of Marquis Saint-Huruge is heard. And shrill women vociferate from all - Galleries, the Convention ones and downwards. Nay a “Central Committee” - of all the Forty-eight Sections, looms forth huge and dubious; sitting - dim in the <i>Archevêché</i>, sending Resolutions, receiving them: a - Centre of the Sections; in dread deliberation as to a New Tenth of - August! - </p> - - <p> - One thing we will specify to throw light on many: the aspect under which, - seen through the eyes of these Girondin Twelve, or even seen through - one’s own eyes, the Patriotism of the softer sex presents itself. There - are Female Patriots, whom the Girondins call Megaeras, and count to the - extent of eight thousand; with serpent-hair, all out of curl; who have - changed the distaff for the dagger. They are of “the Society called - Brotherly,” <i>Fraternelle</i>, say <i>Sisterly</i>, which meets under - the roof of the Jacobins. “Two thousand daggers,” or so, have been - ordered,—doubtless, for them. They rush to Versailles, to raise - more women; but the Versailles women will not rise.<a - href="#linknote-645" name="linknoteref-645" - id="linknoteref-645">[645]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nay, behold, in National Garden of Tuileries,—Demoiselle Théroigne - herself is become as a brownlocked Diana (were that possible) attacked by - her own dogs, or she-dogs! The Demoiselle, keeping her carriage, is for - Liberty indeed, as she has full well shewn; but then for Liberty with - Respectability: whereupon these serpent-haired Extreme She-Patriots now - do fasten on her, tatter her, shamefully fustigate her, in their shameful - way; almost fling her into the Garden-ponds, had not help intervened. - Help, alas, to small purpose. The poor Demoiselle’s head and - nervous-system, none of the soundest, is so tattered and fluttered that - it will never recover; but flutter worse and worse, till it crack; and - within year and day we hear of her in madhouse, and straitwaistcoat, - which proves permanent!—Such brownlocked Figure did flutter, and - inarticulately jabber and gesticulate, little able to <i>speak</i> the - obscure meaning it had, through some segment of that Eighteenth Century - of Time. She disappears here from the Revolution and Public History, for - evermore.<a href="#linknote-646" name="linknoteref-646" - id="linknoteref-646">[646]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Another thing we will not again specify, yet again beseech the Reader to - imagine: the reign of Fraternity and Perfection. Imagine, we say, O - Reader, that the Millennium were struggling on the threshold, and yet not - so much as groceries could be had,—owing to traitors. With what - impetus would a man strike traitors, in that case? Ah, thou canst not - imagine it: thou hast thy groceries safe in the shops, and little or no - hope of a Millennium ever coming!—But, indeed, as to the temper - there was in men and women, does not this one fact say enough: the height - SUSPICION had risen to? Preternatural we often called it; seemingly in - the language of exaggeration: but listen to the cold deposition of - witnesses. Not a musical Patriot can blow himself a snatch of melody from - the French Horn, sitting mildly pensive on the housetop, but Mercier will - recognise it to be a signal which one Plotting Committee is making to - another. Distraction has possessed Harmony herself; lurks in the sound of - <i>Marseillese</i> and <i>ça-ira</i>.<a href="#linknote-647" - name="linknoteref-647" id="linknoteref-647">[647]</a> Louvet, who can see - as deep into a millstone as the most, discerns that we shall be invited - back to our old Hall of the Manege, by a Deputation; and then the - Anarchists will massacre Twenty-two of us, as we walk over. It is Pitt - and Cobourg; the gold of Pitt.—Poor Pitt! They little know what - work he has with his own Friends of the People; getting them bespied, - beheaded, their habeas-corpuses suspended, and his own Social Order and - strong-boxes kept tight,—to fancy him raising mobs among his - neighbours! - </p> - - <p> - But the strangest fact connected with French or indeed with human - Suspicion, is perhaps this of Camille Desmoulins. Camille’s head, one of - the clearest in France, has got itself so saturated through every fibre - with Preternaturalism of Suspicion, that looking back on that Twelfth of - July 1789, when the thousands rose round him, yelling responsive at his - word in the Palais Royal Garden, and took cockades, he finds it - explicable only on this hypothesis, That they were all hired to do it, - and set on by the Foreign and other Plotters. “It was not for nothing,” - says Camille with insight, “that this multitude burst up round me when I - spoke!” No, not for nothing. Behind, around, before, it is one huge - Preternatural Puppet-play of Plots; Pitt pulling the wires.<a - href="#linknote-648" name="linknoteref-648" - id="linknoteref-648">[648]</a> Almost I conjecture that I Camille myself - am a Plot, and wooden with wires.—The force of insight could no - further go. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Be this as it will, History remarks that the Commission of Twelve, now - clear enough as to the Plots; and luckily having “got the threads of them - all by the end,” as they say,—are launching Mandates of Arrest - rapidly in these May days; and carrying matters with a high hand; - resolute that the sea of troubles shall be restrained. What chief - Patriot, Section-President even, is safe? They can arrest him; tear him - from his warm bed, because he has made irregular Section Arrestments! - They arrest Varlet Apostle of Liberty. They arrest Procureur-Substitute - Hébert, <i>Père Duchesne;</i> a Magistrate of the People, sitting in - Townhall; who, with high solemnity of martyrdom, takes leave of his - colleagues; prompt he, to obey the Law; and solemnly acquiescent, - disappears into prison. - </p> - - <p> - The swifter fly the Sections, energetically demanding him back; demanding - not arrestment of Popular Magistrates, but of a traitorous Twenty-two. - Section comes flying after Section;—defiling energetic, with their - Cambyses’ vein of oratory: nay the Commune itself comes, with Mayor Pache - at its head; and with question not of Hébert and the Twenty-two alone, - but with this ominous old question made new, ‘Can you save the Republic, - or must we do it?’ To whom President Max Isnard makes fiery answer: If by - fatal chance, in any of those tumults which since the Tenth of March are - ever returning, Paris were to lift a sacrilegious finger against the - National Representation, France would rise as one man, in never-imagined - vengeance, and shortly ‘the traveller would ask, on which side of the - Seine Paris had stood!’<a href="#linknote-649" name="linknoteref-649" - id="linknoteref-649">[649]</a> Whereat the Mountain bellows only louder, - and every Gallery; Patriot Paris boiling round. - </p> - - <p> - And Girondin Valazé has nightly conclaves at his house; sends billets; - “Come punctually, and well armed, for there is to be business.” And - Megaera women perambulate the streets, with flags, with lamentable - <i>alleleu</i>.<a href="#linknote-650" name="linknoteref-650" - id="linknoteref-650">[650]</a> And the Convention-doors are obstructed by - roaring multitudes: find-spoken <i>Hommes d’état</i> are hustled, - maltreated, as they pass; Marat will apostrophise you, in such - death-peril, and say, Thou too art of them. If Roland ask leave to quit - Paris, there is order of the day. What help? Substitute Hébert, Apostle - Varlet, must be given back; to be crowned with oak-garlands. The - Commission of Twelve, in a Convention overwhelmed with roaring Sections, - is broken; then on the morrow, in a Convention of rallied Girondins, is - reinstated. Dim Chaos, or the sea of troubles, is struggling through all - its elements; writhing and chafing towards some creation. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0129" id="link2HCH0129"></a> - Chapter 3.3.IX.<br/> - Extinct. - </h3> - - <p> - Accordingly, on Friday, the Thirty-first of May 1793, there comes forth - into the summer sunlight one of the strangest scenes. Mayor Pache with - Municipality arrives at the Tuileries Hall of Convention; sent for, Paris - being in visible ferment; and gives the strangest news. - </p> - - <p> - How, in the grey of this morning, while we sat Permanent in Townhall, - watchful for the commonweal, there entered, precisely as on a Tenth of - August, some Ninety-six extraneous persons; who declared themselves to be - in a state of Insurrection; to be plenipotentiary Commissioners from the - Forty-eight Sections, sections or members of the Sovereign People, all in - a state of Insurrection; and further that we, in the name of said - Sovereign in Insurrection, were dismissed from office. How we thereupon - laid off our sashes, and withdrew into the adjacent Saloon of Liberty. - How in a moment or two, we were called back; and reinstated; the - Sovereign pleasing to think us still worthy of confidence. Whereby, - having taken new oath of office, we on a sudden find ourselves - Insurrectionary Magistrates, with extraneous Committee of Ninety-six - sitting by us; and a Citoyen Henriot, one whom some accuse of - Septemberism, is made Generalissimo of the National Guard; and, since six - o’clock, the tocsins ring and the drums beat:—Under which peculiar - circumstances, what would an august National Convention please to direct - us to do?<a href="#linknote-651" name="linknoteref-651" - id="linknoteref-651">[651]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Yes, there is the question! ‘Break the Insurrectionary Authorities,’ - answers some with vehemence. Vergniaud at least will have ‘the National - Representatives all die at their post;’ this is sworn to, with ready loud - acclaim. But as to breaking the Insurrectionary Authorities,—alas, - while we yet debate, what sound is that? Sound of the Alarm-Cannon on the - Pont Neuf; which it is death by the Law to fire without order from us! - </p> - - <p> - It does boom off there, nevertheless; sending a sound through all hearts. - And the tocsins discourse stern music; and Henriot with his Armed Force - has enveloped us! And Section succeeds Section, the livelong day; - demanding with Cambyses’-oratory, with the rattle of muskets, That - traitors, Twenty-two or more, be punished; that the Commission of Twelve - be irrecoverably broken. The heart of the Gironde dies within it; distant - are the Seventy-two respectable Departments, this fiery Municipality is - near! Barrère is for a middle course; granting something. The Commission - of Twelve declares that, not waiting to be broken, it hereby breaks - itself, and is no more. Fain would Reporter Rabaut speak his and its - last-words; but he is bellowed off. Too happy that the Twenty-two are - still left unviolated!—Vergniaud, carrying the laws of refinement - to a great length, moves, to the amazement of some, that “the Sections of - Paris have deserved well of their country.” Whereupon, at a late hour of - the evening, the deserving Sections retire to their respective places of - abode. Barrère shall report on it. With busy quill and brain he sits, - secluded; for him no sleep tonight. Friday the last of May has ended in - this manner. - </p> - - <p> - The Sections have deserved well: but ought they not to deserve better? - Faction and Girondism is struck down for the moment, and consents to be a - nullity; but will it not, at another favourabler moment rise, still - feller; and the Republic have to be saved in spite of it? So reasons - Patriotism, still Permanent; so reasons the Figure of Marat, visible in - the dim Section-world, on the morrow. To the conviction of men!—And - so at eventide of Saturday, when Barrère had just got it all varnished in - the course of the day, and his Report was setting off in the evening - mail-bags, tocsin peals out <i>again! Générale</i> is beating; armed men - taking station in the Place Vendôme and elsewhere for the night; supplied - with provisions and liquor. There under the summer stars will they wait, - this night, what is to be seen and to be done, Henriot and Townhall - giving due signal. - </p> - - <p> - The Convention, at sound of <i>générale</i>, hastens back to its Hall; - but to the number only of a Hundred; and does little business, puts off - business till the morrow. The Girondins do not stir out thither, the - Girondins are abroad seeking beds. Poor Rabaut, on the morrow morning, - returning to his post, with Louvet and some others, through streets all - in ferment, wrings his hands, ejaculating, ‘<i>Illa suprema dies!</i>’<a - href="#linknote-652" name="linknoteref-652" - id="linknoteref-652">[652]</a> It has become Sunday, the second day of - June, year 1793, by the old style; by the new style, year One of Liberty, - Equality, Fraternity. We have got to the last scene of all, that ends - this history of the Girondin Senatorship. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - It seems doubtful whether any terrestrial Convention had ever met in such - circumstances as this National one now does. Tocsin is pealing; Barriers - shut; all Paris is on the gaze, or under arms. As many as a Hundred - Thousand under arms they count: National Force; and the Armed Volunteers, - who should have flown to the Frontiers and La Vendée; but would not, - treason being unpunished; and only flew hither and thither! So many, - steady under arms, environ the National Tuileries and Garden. There are - horse, foot, artillery, sappers with beards: the artillery one can see - with their camp-furnaces in this National Garden, heating bullets red, - and their match is lighted. Henriot in plumes rides, amid a plumed Staff: - all posts and issues are safe; reserves lie out, as far as the Wood of - Boulogne; the choicest Patriots nearest the scene. One other circumstance - we will note: that a careful Municipality, liberal of camp-furnaces, has - not forgotten provision-carts. No member of the Sovereign need now go - home to dinner; but can keep rank,—plentiful victual circulating - unsought. Does not this People understand Insurrection? Ye, <i>not</i> - uninventive, <i>Gualches!</i>— - </p> - - <p> - Therefore let a National Representation, “mandatories of the Sovereign,” - take thought of it. Expulsion of your Twenty-two, and your Commission of - Twelve: we stand here till it be done! Deputation after Deputation, in - ever stronger language, comes with that message. Barrère proposes a - middle course:—Will not perhaps the inculpated Deputies consent to - withdraw voluntarily; to make a generous demission, and self-sacrifice - for the sake of one’s country? Isnard, repentant of that search on which - river-bank Paris stood, declares himself ready to demit. Ready also is - <i>Te-Deum</i> Fauchet; old Dusaulx of the Bastille, “<i>vieux - radoteur</i>, old dotard,” as Marat calls him, is still readier. On the - contrary, Lanjuinais the Breton declares that there is one man who never - will demit voluntarily; but will protest to the uttermost, while a voice - is left him. And he accordingly goes on protesting; amid rage and - clangor; Legendre crying at last: ‘Lanjuinais, come down from the - Tribune, or I will fling thee down, <i>ou je te jette en bas!</i>’ For - matters are come to extremity. Nay they do clutch hold of Lanjuinais, - certain zealous Mountain-men; but cannot fling him down, for he “cramps - himself on the railing;” and “his clothes get torn.” Brave Senator, - worthy of pity! Neither will Barbaroux demit; he ‘has sworn to die at his - post, and will keep that oath.’ Whereupon the Galleries all rise with - explosion; brandishing weapons, some of them; and rush out saying: - ‘<i>Allons</i>, then; we must save our country!’ Such a Session is this - of Sunday the second of June. - </p> - - <p> - Churches fill, over Christian Europe, and then empty themselves; but this - Convention empties not, the while: a day of shrieking contention, of - agony, humiliation and tearing of coatskirts; <i>illa suprema dies!</i> - Round stand Henriot and his Hundred Thousand, copiously refreshed from - tray and basket: nay he is “distributing five francs a-piece;” we - Girondins saw it with our eyes; five francs to keep them in heart! And - distraction of armed riot encumbers our borders, jangles at our Bar; we - are prisoners in our own Hall: Bishop Grégoire could not get out for a - <i>besoin actuel</i> without four gendarmes to wait on him! What is the - character of a National Representative become? And now the sunlight falls - yellower on western windows, and the chimney-tops are flinging longer - shadows; the refreshed Hundred Thousand, nor their shadows, stir not! - What to resolve on? Motion rises, superfluous one would think, That the - Convention go forth in a body; ascertain with its own eyes whether it is - free or not. Lo, therefore, from the Eastern Gate of the Tuileries, a - distressed Convention issuing; handsome Hérault Séchelles at their head; - he with hat on, in sign of public calamity, the rest - bareheaded,—towards the Gate of the Carrousel; wondrous to see: - towards Henriot and his plumed staff. ‘In the name of the National - Convention, make way!’ Not an inch of the way does Henriot make: ‘I - receive no orders, till the Sovereign, yours and mine, has been obeyed.’ - The Convention presses on; Henriot prances back, with his staff, some - fifteen paces, ‘To arms! Cannoneers to your guns!’—flashes out his - puissant sword, as the Staff all do, and the Hussars all do. Cannoneers - brandish the lit match; Infantry present arms,—alas, in the level - way, as if for firing! Hatted Herault leads his distressed flock, through - their pinfold of a Tuileries again; across the Garden, to the Gate on the - opposite side. Here is Feuillans Terrace, alas, there is our old Salle de - Manége; but neither at this Gate of the Pont Tournant is there egress. - Try the other; and the other: no egress! We wander disconsolate through - armed ranks; who indeed salute with <i>Live the Republic</i>, but also - with <i>Die the Gironde</i>. Other such sight, in the year One of - Liberty, the westering sun never saw. - </p> - - <p> - And now behold Marat meets us; for he lagged in this Suppliant Procession - of ours: he has got some hundred elect Patriots at his heels: he orders - us in the Sovereign’s name to return to our place, and do as we are - bidden and bound. The Convention returns. ‘Does not the Convention,’ says - Couthon with a singular power of face, ‘see that it is free?’—none - but friends round it? The Convention, overflowing with friends and armed - Sectioners, proceeds to vote as bidden. Many will not vote, but remain - silent; some one or two protest, in words: the Mountain has a clear - unanimity. Commission of Twelve, and the denounced Twenty-two, to whom we - add Ex-Ministers Clavière and Lebrun: these, with some slight extempore - alterations (this or that orator proposing, but Marat disposing), are - voted to be under “Arrestment in their own houses.” Brissot, Buzot, - Vergniaud, Guadet, Louvet, Gensonné, Barbaroux, Lasource, Lanjuinais, - Rabaut,—Thirty-two, by the tale; all that we have known as - Girondins, and more than we have known. They, “under the safeguard of the - French People;” by and by, under the safeguard of two Gendarmes each, - shall dwell peaceably in their own houses; as Non-Senators; till further - order. Herewith ends <i>Séance</i> of Sunday the second of June 1793. - </p> - - <p> - At ten o’clock, under mild stars, the Hundred Thousand, their work well - finished, turn homewards. This same day, Central Insurrection Committee - has arrested Madame Roland; imprisoned her in the Abbaye. Roland has - fled, no one knows whither. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Thus fell the Girondins, by Insurrection; and became extinct as a Party: - not without a sigh from most Historians. The men were men of parts, of - Philosophic culture, decent behaviour; not condemnable in that they were - Pedants and had not better parts; not condemnable, but most unfortunate. - They wanted a Republic of the Virtues, wherein themselves should be head; - and they could only get a Republic of the Strengths, wherein others than - they were head. - </p> - - <p> - For the rest, Barrère shall make Report of it. The night concludes with a - “civic promenade by torchlight:”<a href="#linknote-653" - name="linknoteref-653" id="linknoteref-653">[653]</a> surely the true - reign of Fraternity is now not far? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0152" id="link2H_4_0152"></a> - BOOK 3.IV.<br/> - TERROR - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0130" id="link2HCH0130"></a> - Chapter 3.4.I.<br/> - Charlotte Corday. - </h3> - - <p> - In the leafy months of June and July, several French Departments - germinate a set of rebellious <i>paper</i>-leaves, named Proclamations, - Resolutions, Journals, or Diurnals “of the Union for Resistance to - Oppression.” In particular, the Town of Caen, in Calvados, sees its - paper-leaf of <i>Bulletin de Caen</i> suddenly bud, suddenly establish - itself as Newspaper there; under the Editorship of Girondin National - Representatives! - </p> - - <p> - For among the proscribed Girondins are certain of a more desperate - humour. Some, as Vergniaud, Valazé, Gensonné, “arrested in their own - houses” will await with stoical resignation what the issue may be. Some, - as Brissot, Rabaut, will take to flight, to concealment; which, as the - Paris Barriers are opened again in a day or two, is not yet difficult. - But others there are who will rush, with Buzot, to Calvados; or far over - France, to Lyons, Toulon, Nantes and elsewhither, and then rendezvous at - Caen: to awaken as with war-trumpet the respectable Departments; and - strike down an anarchic Mountain Faction; at least not yield without a - stroke at it. Of this latter temper we count some score or more, of the - Arrested, and of the Not-yet-arrested; a Buzot, a Barbaroux, Louvet, - Guadet, Pétion, who have escaped from Arrestment in their own homes; a - Salles, a Pythagorean Valady, a Duchâtel, the Duchâtel that came in - blanket and nightcap to vote for the life of Louis, who have escaped from - danger and likelihood of Arrestment. These, to the number at one time of - Twenty-seven, do accordingly lodge here, at the “<i>Intendance</i>, or - Departmental Mansion,” of the Town of Caen; welcomed by Persons in - Authority; welcomed and defrayed, having no money of their own. And the - <i>Bulletin de Caen</i> comes forth, with the most animating paragraphs: - How the Bourdeaux Department, the Lyons Department, this Department after - the other is declaring itself; sixty, or say sixty-nine, or seventy-two<a - href="#linknote-654" name="linknoteref-654" - id="linknoteref-654">[654]</a> respectable Departments either declaring, - or ready to declare. Nay Marseilles, it seems, will march on Paris by - itself, if need be. So has Marseilles Town said, That she will march. But - on the other hand, that Montélimart Town has said, No thoroughfare; and - means even to “bury herself” under her own stone and mortar - first—of this be no mention in <i>Bulletin of Caen</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Such animating paragraphs we read in this Newspaper; and fervours, and - eloquent sarcasm: tirades against the Mountain, frame pen of Deputy - Salles; which resemble, say friends, Pascal’s <i>Provincials</i>. What is - more to the purpose, these Girondins have got a General in chief, one - Wimpfen, formerly under Dumouriez; also a secondary questionable General - Puisaye, and others; and are doing their best to raise a force for war. - National Volunteers, whosoever is of right heart: gather in, ye National - Volunteers, friends of Liberty; from our Calvados Townships, from the - Eure, from Brittany, from far and near; forward to Paris, and extinguish - Anarchy! Thus at Caen, in the early July days, there is a drumming and - parading, a perorating and consulting: Staff and Army; Council; Club of - <i>Carabots</i>, Anti-jacobin friends of Freedom, to denounce atrocious - Marat. With all which, and the editing of <i>Bulletins</i>, a National - Representative has his hands full. - </p> - - <p> - At Caen it is most animated; and, as one hopes, more or less animated in - the “Seventy-two Departments that adhere to us.” And in a France begirt - with Cimmerian invading Coalitions, and torn with an internal La Vendée, - <i>this</i> is the conclusion we have arrived at: to put down Anarchy by - Civil War! <i>Durum et durum</i>, the Proverb says, <i>non faciunt - murum</i>. La Vendée burns: Santerre can do nothing there; he may return - home and brew beer. Cimmerian bombshells fly all along the North. That - Siege of Mentz is become famed;—lovers of the Picturesque (as - Goethe will testify), washed country-people of both sexes, stroll thither - on Sundays, to see the artillery work and counterwork; “you only duck a - little while the shot whizzes past.”<a href="#linknote-655" - name="linknoteref-655" id="linknoteref-655">[655]</a> Condé is - capitulating to the Austrians; Royal Highness of York, these several - weeks, fiercely batters Valenciennes. For, alas, our fortified Camp of - Famars was stormed; General Dampierre was killed; General Custine was - blamed,—and indeed is now come to Paris to give “explanations.” - </p> - - <p> - Against all which the Mountain and atrocious Marat must even make head as - they can. They, anarchic Convention as they are, publish Decrees, - expostulatory, explanatory, yet not without severity; they ray forth - Commissioners, singly or in pairs, the olive-branch in one hand, yet the - sword in the other. Commissioners come even to Caen; but without effect. - Mathematical Romme, and Prieur named of the Côte d’Or, venturing thither, - with their olive and sword, are packed into prison: there may Romme lie, - under lock and key, “for fifty days;” and meditate his New Calendar, if - he please. Cimmeria and Civil War! Never was Republic One and Indivisible - at a lower ebb.— - </p> - - <p> - Amid which dim ferment of Caen and the World, History specially notices - one thing: in the lobby of the Mansion <i>de l’Intendance</i>, where busy - Deputies are coming and going, a young Lady with an aged valet, taking - grave graceful leave of Deputy Barbaroux.<a href="#linknote-656" - name="linknoteref-656" id="linknoteref-656">[656]</a> She is of stately - Norman figure; in her twenty-fifth year; of beautiful still countenance: - her name is Charlotte Corday, heretofore styled d’Armans, while Nobility - still was. Barbaroux has given her a Note to Deputy Duperret,—him - who once drew his sword in the effervescence. Apparently she will to - Paris on some errand? “She was a Republican before the Revolution, and - never wanted energy.” A completeness, a decision is in this fair female - Figure: “by energy she means the spirit that will prompt one to sacrifice - himself for his country.” What if she, this fair young Charlotte, had - emerged from her secluded stillness, suddenly like a Star; cruel-lovely, - with half-angelic, half-demonic splendour; to gleam for a moment, and in - a moment be extinguished: to be held in memory, so bright complete was - she, through long centuries!—Quitting Cimmerian Coalitions without, - and the dim-simmering Twenty-five millions within, History will look - fixedly at this one fair Apparition of a Charlotte Corday; will note - whither Charlotte moves, how the little Life burns forth so radiant, then - vanishes swallowed of the Night. - </p> - - <p> - With Barbaroux’s Note of Introduction, and slight stock of luggage, we - see Charlotte, on Tuesday the ninth of July, seated in the Caen - Diligence, with a place for Paris. None takes farewell of her, wishes her - Good-journey: her Father will find a line left, signifying that she is - gone to England, that he must pardon her and forget her. The drowsy - Diligence lumbers along; amid drowsy talk of Politics, and praise of the - Mountain; in which she mingles not; all night, all day, and again all - night. On Thursday, not long before none, we are at the Bridge of - Neuilly; here is Paris with her thousand black domes,—the goal and - purpose of thy journey! Arrived at the Inn de la Providence in the Rue - des Vieux Augustins, Charlotte demands a room; hastens to bed; sleeps all - afternoon and night, till the morrow morning. - </p> - - <p> - On the morrow morning, she delivers her Note to Duperret. It relates to - certain Family Papers which are in the Minister of the Interior’s hand; - which a Nun at Caen, an old Convent-friend of Charlotte’s, has need of; - which Duperret shall assist her in getting: this then was Charlotte’s - errand to Paris? She has finished this, in the course of - Friday;—yet says nothing of returning. She has seen and silently - investigated several things. The Convention, in bodily reality, she has - seen; what the Mountain is like. The living physiognomy of Marat she - could not see; he is sick at present, and confined to home. - </p> - - <p> - About eight on the Saturday morning, she purchases a large sheath-knife - in the Palais Royal; then straightway, in the Place des Victoires, takes - a hackney-coach: ‘To the Rue de l’Ecole de Médecine, No. 44.’ It is the - residence of the Citoyen Marat!—The Citoyen Marat is ill, and - cannot be seen; which seems to disappoint her much. Her business is with - Marat, then? Hapless beautiful Charlotte; hapless squalid Marat! From - Caen in the utmost West, from Neuchâtel in the utmost East, they two are - drawing nigh each other; they two have, very strangely, business - together.—Charlotte, returning to her Inn, despatches a short Note - to Marat; signifying that she is from Caen, the seat of rebellion; that - she desires earnestly to see him, and “will put it in his power to do - France a great service.” No answer. Charlotte writes another Note, still - more pressing; sets out with it by coach, about seven in the evening, - herself. Tired day-labourers have again finished their Week; huge Paris - is circling and simmering, manifold, according to its vague wont: this - one fair Figure has decision in it; drives straight,—towards a - purpose. - </p> - - <p> - It is yellow July evening, we say, the thirteenth of the month; eve of - the Bastille day,—when “M. Marat,” four years ago, in the crowd of - the Pont Neuf, shrewdly required of that Besenval Hussar-party, which had - such friendly dispositions, ‘to dismount, and give up their arms, then;’ - and became notable among Patriot men! Four years: what a road he has - travelled;—and sits now, about half-past seven of the clock, - stewing in slipper-bath; sore afflicted; ill of Revolution - Fever,—of what other malady this History had rather not name. - Excessively sick and worn, poor man: with precisely elevenpence-halfpenny - of ready money, in paper; with slipper-bath; strong three-footed stool - for writing on, the while; and a squalid—Washerwoman, one may call - her: that is his civic establishment in Medical-School Street; thither - and not elsewhither has his road led him. Not to the reign of Brotherhood - and Perfect Felicity; yet surely on the way towards that?—Hark, a - rap again! A musical woman’s-voice, refusing to be rejected: it is the - Citoyenne who would do France a service. Marat, recognising from within, - cries, Admit her. Charlotte Corday is admitted. - </p> - - <p> - Citoyen Marat, I am from Caen the seat of rebellion, and wished to speak - with you.—Be seated, <i>mon enfant</i>. Now what are the Traitors - doing at Caen? What Deputies are at Caen?—Charlotte names some - Deputies. ‘Their heads shall fall within a fortnight,’ croaks the eager - People’s-Friend, clutching his tablets to write: <i>Barbaroux, - Pétion</i>, writes he with bare shrunk arm, turning aside in the bath: - <i>Pétion</i>, and <i>Louvet</i>, and—Charlotte has drawn her knife - from the sheath; plunges it, with one sure stroke, into the writer’s - heart. ‘<i>À moi, chère amie</i>, Help, dear!’ No more could the - Death-choked say or shriek. The helpful Washerwoman running in, there is - no Friend of the People, or Friend of the Washerwoman, left; but his life - with a groan gushes out, indignant, to the shades below.<a - href="#linknote-657" name="linknoteref-657" - id="linknoteref-657">[657]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And so Marat People’s-Friend is ended; the lone Stylites has got hurled - down suddenly from his Pillar,—<i>whitherward</i> He that made him - does know. Patriot Paris may sound triple and tenfold, in dole and wail; - re-echoed by Patriot France; and the Convention, “Chabot pale with terror - declaring that they are to be all assassinated,” may decree him Pantheon - Honours, Public Funeral, Mirabeau’s dust making way for him; and Jacobin - Societies, in lamentable oratory, summing up his character, parallel him - to One, whom they think it honour to call “the good - Sansculotte,”—whom we name not here.<a href="#linknote-658" - name="linknoteref-658" id="linknoteref-658">[658]</a> Also a Chapel may - be made, for the urn that holds his Heart, in the Place du Carrousel; and - new-born children be named Marat; and Lago-de-Como Hawkers bake mountains - of stucco into unbeautiful Busts; and David paint his Picture, or - Death-scene; and such other Apotheosis take place as the human genius, in - these circumstances, can devise: but Marat returns no more to the light - of this Sun. One sole circumstance we have read with clear sympathy, in - the old <i>Moniteur</i> Newspaper: how Marat’s brother comes from - Neuchâtel to ask of the Convention “that the deceased Jean-Paul Marat’s - musket be given him.”<a href="#linknote-659" name="linknoteref-659" - id="linknoteref-659">[659]</a> For Marat too had a brother, and natural - affections; and was wrapt once in swaddling-clothes, and slept safe in a - cradle like the rest of us. Ye children of men!—A sister of his, - they say, lives still to this day in Paris. - </p> - - <p> - As for Charlotte Corday her work is accomplished; the recompense of it is - near and sure. The <i>chère amie</i>, and neighbours of the house, flying - at her, she “overturns some movables,” entrenches herself till the - gendarmes arrive; then quietly surrenders; goes quietly to the Abbaye - Prison: she alone quiet, all Paris sounding in wonder, in rage or - admiration, round her. Duperret is put in arrest, on account of her; his - Papers sealed,—which may lead to consequences. Fauchet, in like - manner; though Fauchet had not so much as heard of her. Charlotte, - confronted with these two Deputies, praises the grave firmness of - Duperret, censures the dejection of Fauchet. - </p> - - <p> - On Wednesday morning, the thronged Palais de Justice and Revolutionary - Tribunal can see her face; beautiful and calm: she dates it “fourth day - of the Preparation of Peace.” A strange murmur ran through the Hall, at - sight of her; you could not say of what character.<a href="#linknote-660" - name="linknoteref-660" id="linknoteref-660">[660]</a> Tinville has his - indictments and tape-papers the cutler of the Palais Royal will testify - that he sold her the sheath-knife; ‘all these details are needless,’ - interrupted Charlotte; ‘it is I that killed Marat.’ By whose - instigation?—‘By no one’s.’ What tempted you, then? His crimes. ‘I - killed one man,’ added she, raising her voice extremely - (<i>extrêmement</i>), as they went on with their questions, ‘I killed one - man to save a hundred thousand; a villain to save innocents; a savage - wild-beast to give repose to my country. I was a Republican before the - Revolution; I never wanted energy.’ There is therefore nothing to be - said. The public gazes astonished: the hasty limners sketch her features, - Charlotte not disapproving; the men of law proceed with their - formalities. The doom is Death as a murderess. To her Advocate she gives - thanks; in gentle phrase, in high-flown classical spirit. To the Priest - they send her she gives thanks; but needs not any shriving, or ghostly or - other aid from him. - </p> - - <p> - On this same evening, therefore, about half-past seven o’clock, from the - gate of the Conciergerie, to a City all on tiptoe, the fatal Cart issues: - seated on it a fair young creature, sheeted in red smock of Murderess; so - beautiful, serene, so full of life; journeying towards death,—alone - amid the world. Many take off their hats, saluting reverently; for what - heart but must be touched?<a href="#linknote-661" name="linknoteref-661" - id="linknoteref-661">[661]</a> Others growl and howl. Adam Lux, of Mentz, - declares that she is greater than Brutus; that it were beautiful to die - with her: the head of this young man seems turned. At the Place de la - Révolution, the countenance of Charlotte wears the same still smile. The - executioners proceed to bind her feet; she resists, thinking it meant as - an insult; on a word of explanation, she submits with cheerful apology. - As the last act, all being now ready, they take the neckerchief from her - neck: a blush of maidenly shame overspreads that fair face and neck; the - cheeks were still tinged with it, when the executioner lifted the severed - head, to shew it to the people. “It is most true,” says Foster, “that he - struck the cheek insultingly; for I saw it with my eyes: the Police - imprisoned him for it.”<a href="#linknote-662" name="linknoteref-662" - id="linknoteref-662">[662]</a> - </p> - - <p> - In this manner have the Beautifullest and the Squalidest come in - collision, and extinguished one another. Jean-Paul Marat and Marie-Anne - Charlotte Corday both, suddenly, are no more. “Day of the Preparation of - Peace?” Alas, how were peace possible or preparable, while, for example, - the hearts of lovely Maidens, in their convent-stillness, are dreaming - not of Love-paradises, and the light of Life; but of Codrus’-sacrifices, - and death well earned? That Twenty-five million hearts have got to such - temper, this <i>is</i> the Anarchy; the soul of it lies in this: whereof - not peace can be the embodyment! The death of Marat, whetting old - animosities tenfold, will be worse than any life. O ye hapless Two, - mutually extinctive, the Beautiful and the Squalid, sleep ye - well,—in the Mother’s bosom that bore you both! - </p> - - <p> - This was the History of Charlotte Corday; most definite, most complete; - angelic-demonic: like a Star! Adam Lux goes home, half-delirious; to pour - forth his Apotheosis of her, in paper and print; to propose that she have - a statue with this inscription, <i>Greater than Brutus</i>. Friends - represent his danger; Lux is reckless; thinks it were beautiful to die - with her. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0131" id="link2HCH0131"></a> - Chapter 3.4.II.<br/> - In Civil War. - </h3> - - <p> - But during these same hours, another guillotine is at work, on another: - Charlotte, for the Girondins, dies at Paris today; Chalier, by the - Girondins, dies at Lyons tomorrow. - </p> - - <p> - From rumbling of cannon along the streets of that City, it has come to - firing of them, to rabid fighting: Nièvre-Chol and the Girondins - triumph;—behind whom there is, as everywhere, a Royalist Faction - waiting to strike in. Trouble enough at Lyons; and the dominant party - carrying it with a high hand! For indeed, the whole South is astir; - incarcerating Jacobins; arming for Girondins: wherefore we have got a - “Congress of Lyons;” also a “Revolutionary Tribunal of Lyons,” and - Anarchists shall tremble. So Chalier was soon found guilty, of - Jacobinism, of murderous Plot, “address with drawn dagger on the sixth of - February last;” and, on the morrow, he also travels his final road, along - the streets of Lyons, “by the side of an ecclesiastic, with whom he seems - to speak earnestly,”—the axe now glittering high. He could weep, in - old years, this man, and “fall on his knees on the pavement,” blessing - Heaven at sight of Federation Programs or like; then he pilgrimed to - Paris, to worship Marat and the Mountain: now Marat and he are both - gone;—we said he could not end well. Jacobinism groans inwardly, at - Lyons; but dare not outwardly. Chalier, when the Tribunal sentenced him, - made answer: ‘My death will cost this City dear.’ - </p> - - <p> - Montélimart Town is not buried under its ruins; yet Marseilles is - actually marching, under order of a “Lyons Congress;” is incarcerating - Patriots; the very Royalists now shewing face. Against which a General - Cartaux fights, though in small force; and with him an Artillery Major, - of the name of—Napoleon Buonaparte. This Napoleon, to prove that - the Marseillese have no chance ultimately, not only fights but writes; - publishes his <i>Supper of Beaucaire</i>, a Dialogue which has become - curious.<a href="#linknote-663" name="linknoteref-663" - id="linknoteref-663">[663]</a> Unfortunate Cities, with their actions and - their reactions! Violence to be paid with violence in geometrical ratio; - Royalism and Anarchism both striking in;—the final net-amount of - which geometrical series, what man shall sum? - </p> - - <p> - The Bar of Iron has never yet floated in Marseilles Harbour; but the Body - of Rebecqui was found floating, self-drowned there. Hot Rebecqui seeing - how confusion deepened, and Respectability grew poisoned with Royalism, - felt that there was no refuge for a Republican but death. Rebecqui - disappeared: no one knew whither; till, one morning, they found the empty - case or body of him risen to the top, tumbling on the salt waves;<a - href="#linknote-664" name="linknoteref-664" - id="linknoteref-664">[664]</a> and perceived that Rebecqui had withdrawn - forever.—Toulon likewise is incarcerating Patriots; sending - delegates to Congress; intriguing, in case of necessity, with the - Royalists and English. Montpellier, Bourdeaux, Nantes: all France, that - is not under the swoop of Austria and Cimmeria, seems rushing into - madness, and suicidal ruin. The Mountain labours; like a volcano in a - burning volcanic Land. Convention Committees, of Surety, of Salvation, - are busy night and day: Convention Commissioners whirl on all highways; - bearing olive-branch and sword, or now perhaps sword only. Chaumette and - Municipals come daily to the Tuileries demanding a Constitution: it is - some weeks now since he resolved, in Townhall, that a Deputation “should - go every day” and demand a Constitution, till one were got;<a - href="#linknote-665" name="linknoteref-665" - id="linknoteref-665">[665]</a> whereby suicidal France might rally and - pacify itself; a thing inexpressibly desirable. - </p> - - <p> - This then is the fruit your Anti-anarchic Girondins have got from that - Levying of War in Calvados? This fruit, we may say; and no other - whatsoever. For indeed, before either Charlotte’s or Chalier’s head had - fallen, the Calvados War itself had, as it were, vanished, dreamlike, in - a shriek! With “seventy-two Departments” on one’s side, one might have - hoped better things. But it turns out that Respectabilities, though they - will vote, will not fight. Possession is always nine points in Law; but - in Lawsuits of <i>this</i> kind, one may say, it is ninety-and-nine - points. Men do what they were wont to do; and have immense irresolution - and inertia: they obey him who has the symbols that claim obedience. - Consider what, in modern society, this one fact means: the Metropolis is - with our enemies! Metropolis, <i>Mother-city;</i> rightly so named: all - the rest are but as her children, her nurselings. Why, there is not a - leathern Diligence, with its post-bags and luggage-boots, that lumbers - out from her, but is as a huge life-pulse; she is the heart of all. Cut - short that one leathern Diligence, how much is cut short!—General - Wimpfen, looking practically into the matter, can see nothing for it but - that one should fall back on Royalism; get into communication with Pitt! - Dark innuendoes he flings out, to that effect: whereat we Girondins - start, horrorstruck. He produces as his Second in command a certain - “<i>Ci-devant</i>,” one Comte Puisaye; entirely unknown to Louvet; - greatly suspected by him. - </p> - - <p> - Few wars, accordingly, were ever levied of a more insufficient character - than this of Calvados. He that is curious in such things may read the - details of it in the Memoirs of that same <i>Ci-devant</i> Puisaye, the - much-enduring man and Royalist: How our Girondin National Forces, - marching off with plenty of wind-music, were drawn out about the old - Château of Brecourt, in the wood-country near Vernon, to meet the - Mountain National forces advancing from Paris. How on the fifteenth - afternoon of July, they did meet,—and, as it were, shrieked - mutually, and took mutually to flight without loss. How Puisaye - thereafter, for the Mountain Nationals fled first, and we thought - ourselves the victors,—was roused from his warm bed in the Castle - of Brecourt; and had to gallop without boots; our Nationals, in the - night-watches, having fallen unexpectedly into <i>sauve qui - peut:</i>—and in brief the Calvados War had burnt priming; and the - only question now was, Whitherward to vanish, in what hole to hide - oneself!<a href="#linknote-666" name="linknoteref-666" - id="linknoteref-666">[666]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The National Volunteers rush homewards, faster than they came. The - Seventy-two Respectable Departments, says Meillan, “all turned round, and - forsook us, in the space of four-and-twenty hours.” Unhappy those who, as - at Lyons for instance, have gone too far for turning! “One morning,” we - find placarded on our Intendance Mansion, the Decree of Convention which - casts us <i>Hors la loi</i>, into Outlawry: placarded by our Caen - Magistrates;—clear hint that we also are to vanish. Vanish, indeed: - but whitherward? Gorsas has friends in Rennes; he will hide - there,—unhappily will not lie hid. Guadet, Lanjuinais are on cross - roads; making for Bourdeaux. To Bourdeaux! cries the general voice, of - Valour alike and of Despair. Some flag of Respectability still floats - there, or is thought to float. - </p> - - <p> - Thitherward therefore; each as he can! Eleven of these ill-fated - Deputies, among whom we may count, as twelfth, Friend Riouffe the Man of - Letters, do an original thing. Take the uniform of National Volunteers, - and retreat southward with the Breton Battalion, as private soldiers of - that corps. These brave Bretons had stood truer by us than any other. - Nevertheless, at the end of a day or two, they also do now get dubious, - self-divided; we must part from them; and, with some half-dozen as convoy - or guide, retreat by ourselves,—a solitary marching detachment, - through waste regions of the West.<a href="#linknote-667" - name="linknoteref-667" id="linknoteref-667">[667]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0132" id="link2HCH0132"></a> - Chapter 3.4.III.<br/> - Retreat of the Eleven. - </h3> - - <p> - It is one of the notablest Retreats, this of the Eleven, that History - presents: The handful of forlorn Legislators retreating there, - continually, with shouldered firelock and well-filled cartridge-box, in - the yellow autumn; long hundreds of miles between them and Bourdeaux; the - country all getting hostile, suspicious of the truth; simmering and - buzzing on all sides, more and more. Louvet has preserved the Itinerary - of it; a piece worth all the rest he ever wrote. - </p> - - <p> - O virtuous Pétion, with thy early-white head, O brave young Barbaroux, - has it come to this? Weary ways, worn shoes, light - purse;—encompassed with perils as with a sea! Revolutionary - Committees are in every Township; of Jacobin temper; our friends all - cowed, our cause the losing one. In the Borough of Moncontour, by ill - chance, it is market-day: to the gaping public such transit of a solitary - Marching Detachment is suspicious; we have need of energy, of promptitude - and luck, to be allowed to march through. Hasten, ye weary pilgrims! The - country is getting up; noise of you is bruited day after day, a solitary - Twelve retreating in this mysterious manner: with every new day, a wider - wave of inquisitive pursuing tumult is stirred up till the whole West - will be in motion. “Cussy is tormented with gout, Buzot is too fat for - marching.” Riouffe, blistered, bleeding, marching only on tiptoe; - Barbaroux limps with sprained ancle, yet ever cheery, full of hope and - valour. Light Louvet glances hare-eyed, not hare-hearted: only virtuous - Pétion’s serenity “was but once seen ruffled.”<a href="#linknote-668" - name="linknoteref-668" id="linknoteref-668">[668]</a> They lie in - straw-lofts, in woody brakes; rudest paillasse on the floor of a secret - friend is luxury. They are seized in the dead of night by Jacobin mayors - and tap of drum; get off by firm countenance, rattle of muskets, and - ready wit. - </p> - - <p> - Of Bourdeaux, through fiery La Vendée and the long geographical spaces - that remain, it were madness to think: well, if you can get to Quimper on - the sea-coast, and take shipping there. Faster, ever faster! Before the - end of the march, so hot has the country grown, it is found advisable to - march all night. They do it; under the still night-canopy they plod - along;—and yet behold, Rumour has outplodded them. In the paltry - Village of Carhaix (be its thatched huts, and bottomless peat-bogs, long - notable to the Traveller), one is astonished to find light still - glimmering: citizens are awake, with rush-lights burning, in that nook of - the terrestrial Planet; as we traverse swiftly the one poor street, a - voice is heard saying, ‘There they are, <i>Les voilà qui passent!</i>’<a - href="#linknote-669" name="linknoteref-669" - id="linknoteref-669">[669]</a> Swifter, ye doomed lame Twelve: speed ere - they can arm; gain the Woods of Quimper before day, and lie squatted - there! - </p> - - <p> - The doomed Twelve do it; though with difficulty, with loss of road, with - peril, and the mistakes of a night. In Quimper are Girondin friends, who - perhaps will harbour the homeless, till a Bourdeaux ship weigh. Wayworn, - heartworn, in agony of suspense, till Quimper friendship get warning, - they lie there, squatted under the thick wet boscage; suspicious of the - face of man. Some pity to the brave; to the unhappy! Unhappiest of all - Legislators, O when ye packed your luggage, some score, or two-score - months ago; and mounted this or the other leathern vehicle, to be - Conscript Fathers of a regenerated France, and reap deathless - laurels,—did ye think your journey was to lead <i>hither?</i> The - Quimper Samaritans find them squatted; lift them up to help and comfort; - will hide them in sure places. Thence let them dissipate gradually; or - there they can lie quiet, and write <i>Memoirs</i>, till a Bourdeaux ship - sail. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And thus, in Calvados all is dissipated; Romme is out of prison, - meditating his Calendar; ringleaders are locked in his room. At Caen the - Corday family mourns in silence; Buzot’s House is a heap of dust and - demolition; and amid the rubbish sticks a Gallows, with this inscription, - <i>Here dwelt the Traitor Buzot who conspired against the Republic</i>. - Buzot and the other vanished Deputies are <i>hors la loi</i>, as we saw; - their lives free to take where they can be found. The worse fares it with - the poor Arrested visible Deputies at Paris. “Arrestment at home” - threatens to become “Confinement in the Luxembourg;” to end: - <i>where?</i> For example, what pale-visaged thin man is this, journeying - towards Switzerland as a Merchant of Neuchâtel, whom they arrest in the - town of Moulins? To Revolutionary Committee he is suspect. To - Revolutionary Committee, on probing the matter, he is evidently: Deputy - Brissot! Back to thy Arrestment, poor Brissot; or indeed to strait - confinement,—whither others are fared to follow. Rabaut has built - himself a false-partition, in a friend’s house; lives, in invisible - darkness, between two walls. It will end, this same Arrestment business, - in Prison, and the Revolutionary Tribunal. - </p> - - <p> - Nor must we forget Duperret, and the seal put on his papers by reason of - Charlotte. One Paper is there, fit to breed woe enough: A secret solemn - Protest against that <i>suprema dies</i> of the Second of June! This - Secret Protest our poor Duperret had drawn up, the same week, in all - plainness of speech; waiting the time for publishing it: to which Secret - Protest his signature, and that of other honourable Deputies not a few, - stands legibly appended. And now, if the seals were once broken, the - Mountain still victorious? Such Protestors, your Merciers, Bailleuls, - Seventy-three by the tale, what yet remains of Respectable Girondism in - the Convention, may tremble to think!—These are the fruits of - levying civil war. - </p> - - <p> - Also we find, that, in these last days of July, the famed Siege of Mentz - is <i>finished;</i> the Garrison to march out with honours of war; not to - serve against the Coalition for a year! Lovers of the Picturesque, and - Goethe standing on the Chaussée of Mentz, saw, with due interest, the - Procession issuing forth, in all solemnity: - </p> - - <p> - “Escorted by Prussian horse came first the French Garrison. Nothing could - look stranger than this latter: a column of Marseillese, slight, swarthy, - party-coloured, in patched clothes, came tripping on;—as if King - Edwin had opened the Dwarf Hill, and sent out his nimble Host of Dwarfs. - Next followed regular troops; serious, sullen; not as if downcast or - ashamed. But the remarkablest appearance, which struck every one, was - that of the Chasers (<i>Chasseurs</i>) coming out mounted: they had - advanced quite silent to where we stood, when their Band struck up the - <i>Marseillaise</i>. This Revolutionary <i>Te-Deum</i> has in itself - something mournful and bodeful, however briskly played; but at present - they gave it in altogether slow time, proportionate to the creeping step - they rode at. It was piercing and fearful, and a most serious-looking - thing, as these cavaliers, long, lean men, of a certain age, with mien - suitable to the music, came pacing on: singly you might have likened them - to Don Quixote; in mass, they were highly dignified. - </p> - - <p> - “But now a single troop became notable: that of the Commissioners or - <i>Représentans</i>. Merlin of Thionville, in hussar uniform, - distinguishing himself by wild beard and look, had another person in - similar costume on his left; the crowd shouted out, with rage, at sight - of this latter, the name of a Jacobin Townsman and Clubbist; and shook - itself to seize him. Merlin drew bridle; referred to his dignity as - French Representative, to the vengeance that should follow any injury - done; he would advise every one to compose himself, for this was not the - <i>last time</i> they would see him here.<a href="#linknote-670" - name="linknoteref-670" id="linknoteref-670">[670]</a> Thus rode Merlin; - threatening in defeat. But what now shall stem that tide of Prussians - setting in through the open North-East?” Lucky, if fortified Lines of - Weissembourg, and impassibilities of Vosges Mountains, confine it to - French Alsace, keep it from submerging the very heart of the country! - </p> - - <p> - Furthermore, precisely in the same days, Valenciennes Siege is finished, - in the North-West:—fallen, under the red hail of York! Condé fell - some fortnight since. Cimmerian Coalition presses on. What seems very - notable too, on all these captured French Towns there flies not the - Royalist fleur-de-lys, in the name of a new Louis the Pretender; but the - Austrian flag flies; as if Austria meant to keep them for herself! - Perhaps General Custines, still in Paris, can give some explanation of - the fall of these strong-places? Mother Society, from tribune and - gallery, growls loud that he ought to do it;—remarks, however, in a - splenetic manner that “the <i>Monsieurs</i> of the Palais Royal” are - calling, Long-life to this General. - </p> - - <p> - The Mother Society, purged now, by successive “scrutinies or - <i>épurations</i>,” from all taint of Girondism, has become a great - Authority: what we can call shield-bearer, or bottle-holder, nay call it - fugleman, to the purged National Convention itself. The Jacobins Debates - are reported in the <i>Moniteur</i>, like Parliamentary ones. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0133" id="link2HCH0133"></a> - Chapter 3.4.IV.<br/> - O Nature. - </h3> - - <p> - But looking more specially into Paris City, what is this that History, on - the 10th of August, Year One of Liberty, “by old-style, year 1793,” - discerns there? Praised be the Heavens, a new Feast of Pikes! - </p> - - <p> - For Chaumette’s “Deputation every day” has worked out its result: a - Constitution. It was one of the rapidest Constitutions ever put together; - made, some say in eight days, by Hérault Séchelles and others: probably a - workmanlike, roadworthy Constitution enough;—on which point, - however, we are, for some reasons, little called to form a judgment. - Workmanlike or not, the Forty-four Thousand Communes of France, by - overwhelming majorities, did hasten to accept it; glad of any - Constitution whatsoever. Nay Departmental Deputies have come, the - venerablest Republicans of each Department, with solemn message of - Acceptance; and now what remains but that our new Final Constitution be - proclaimed, and sworn to, in Feast of Pikes? The Departmental Deputies, - we say, are come some time ago;—Chaumette very anxious about them, - lest Girondin <i>Monsieurs</i>, Agio-jobbers, or were it even <i>Filles - de joie</i> of a Girondin temper, corrupt their morals.<a - href="#linknote-671" name="linknoteref-671" - id="linknoteref-671">[671]</a> Tenth of August, immortal Anniversary, - greater almost than Bastille July, is the Day. - </p> - - <p> - Painter David has not been idle. Thanks to David and the French genius, - there steps forth into the sunlight, this day, a Scenic Phantasmagory - unexampled:—whereof History, so occupied with Real-Phantasmagories, - will say but little. - </p> - - <p> - For one thing, History can notice with satisfaction, on the ruins of the - Bastille, a <i>Statue of Nature;</i> gigantic, spouting water from her - two <i>mammelles</i>. Not a Dream this; but a Fact, palpable visible. - There she spouts, great Nature; dim, before daybreak. But as the coming - Sun ruddies the East, come countless Multitudes, regulated and - unregulated; come Departmental Deputies, come Mother Society and - Daughters; comes National Convention, led on by handsome Herault; soft - wind-music breathing note of expectation. Lo, as great Sol scatters his - first fire-handful, tipping the hills and chimney-heads with gold, - Herault is at great Nature’s feet (she is Plaster of Paris merely); - Herault lifts, in an iron saucer, water spouted from the sacred breasts; - drinks of it, with an eloquent Pagan Prayer, beginning, ‘O Nature!’ and - all the Departmental Deputies drink, each with what best suitable - ejaculation or prophetic-utterance is in him;—amid breathings, - which become blasts, of wind-music; and the roar of artillery and human - throats: finishing well the first act of this solemnity. - </p> - - <p> - Next are processionings along the Boulevards: Deputies or Officials bound - together by long indivisible tricolor riband; general “members of the - Sovereign” walking pellmell, with pikes, with hammers, with the tools and - emblems of their crafts; among which we notice a Plough, and ancient - Baucis and Philemon seated on it, drawn by their children. Many-voiced - harmony and dissonance filling the air. Through Triumphal Arches enough: - at the basis of the first of which, we descry—whom thinkest - thou?—the Heroines of the Insurrection of Women. Strong Dames of - the Market, they sit there (Théroigne too ill to attend, one fears), with - oak-branches, tricolor bedizenment; firm-seated on their Cannons. To whom - handsome Herault, making pause of admiration, addresses soothing - eloquence; whereupon they rise and fall into the march. - </p> - - <p> - And now mark, in the Place de la Révolution, what other August Statue may - this be; veiled in canvas,—which swiftly we shear off by pulley and - cord? The <i>Statue of Liberty!</i> She too is of plaster, hoping to - become of metal; stands where a Tyrant Louis Quinze once stood. “Three - thousand birds” are let loose, into the whole world, with labels round - their neck, <i>We are free; imitate us.</i> Holocaust of Royalist and - <i>ci-devant</i> trumpery, such as one could still gather, is burnt; - pontifical eloquence must be uttered, by handsome Herault, and Pagan - orisons offered up. - </p> - - <p> - And then forward across the River; where is new enormous Statuary; - enormous plaster Mountain; Hercules-<i>Peuple</i>, with uplifted - all-conquering club; “many-headed Dragon of Girondin Federalism rising - from fetid marsh;”—needing new eloquence from Herault. To say - nothing of Champ-de-Mars, and Fatherland’s Altar there; with urn of slain - Defenders, Carpenter’s-level of the Law; and such exploding, - gesticulating and perorating, that Herault’s lips must be growing white, - and his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth.<a href="#linknote-672" - name="linknoteref-672" id="linknoteref-672">[672]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Towards six-o’clock let the wearied President, let Paris Patriotism - generally sit down to what repast, and social repasts, can be had; and - with flowing tankard or light-mantling glass, usher in this New and - Newest Era. In fact, is not Romme’s New Calendar getting ready? On all - housetops flicker little tricolor Flags, their flagstaff a Pike and - Liberty-Cap. On all house-walls, for no Patriot, not suspect, will be - behind another, there stand printed these words: <i>Republic one and - indivisible, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death.</i> - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - As to the New Calendar, we may say here rather than elsewhere that - speculative men have long been struck with the inequalities and - incongruities of the Old Calendar; that a New one has long been as good - as determined on. Maréchal the Atheist, almost ten years ago, proposed a - New Calendar, free at least from superstition: this the Paris - Municipality would now adopt, in defect of a better; at all events, let - us have either this of Maréchal’s or a better,—the New Era being - come. Petitions, more than once, have been sent to that effect; and - indeed, for a year past, all Public Bodies, Journalists, and Patriots in - general, have dated <i>First Year of the Republic</i>. It is a subject - not without difficulties. But the Convention has taken it up; and Romme, - as we say, has been meditating it; not Maréchal’s New Calendar, but a - better New one of Romme’s and our own. Romme, aided by a Monge, a - Lagrange and others, furnishes mathematics; Fabre d’Eglantine furnishes - poetic nomenclature: and so, on the 5th of October 1793, after trouble - enough, they bring forth this New Republican Calendar of theirs, in a - complete state; and by Law, get it put in action. - </p> - - <p> - Four equal Seasons, Twelve equal Months of thirty days each: this makes - three hundred and sixty days; and five odd days remain to be disposed of. - The five odd days we will make Festivals, and name the five - <i>Sansculottides</i>, or Days without Breeches. Festival of Genius; - Festival of Labour; of Actions; of Rewards; of Opinion: these are the - five Sansculottides. Whereby the great Circle, or Year, is made complete: - solely every fourth year, whilom called Leap-year, we introduce a sixth - Sansculottide; and name it Festival of the Revolution. Now as to the day - of commencement, which offers difficulties, is it not one of the luckiest - coincidences that the Republic herself commenced on the 21st of - September; close on the Vernal Equinox? Vernal Equinox, at midnight for - the meridian of Paris, in the year whilom Christian 1792, from that - moment shall the New Era reckon itself to begin. <i>Vendémiaire, - Brumaire, Frimaire;</i> or as one might say, in mixed English, - <i>Vintagearious, Fogarious, Frostarious:</i> these are our three Autumn - months. <i>Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose</i>, or say <i>Snowous, Rainous, - Windous</i>, make our Winter season. <i>Germinal, Floréal, Prairial</i>, - or <i>Buddal, Floweral, Meadowal</i>, are our Spring season. <i>Messidor, - Thermidor, Fructidor</i>, that is to say (<i>dor</i> being Greek for - <i>gift</i>), <i>Reapidor, Heatidor, Fruitidor</i>, are Republican - Summer. These Twelve, in a singular manner, divide the Republican Year. - Then as to minuter subdivisions, let us venture at once on a bold stroke: - adopt your decimal subdivision; and instead of world-old Week, or - <i>Se’ennight</i>, make it a <i>Tennight</i> or <i>Décade;</i>—not - without results. There are three Decades, then, in each of the months; - which is very regular; and the <i>Decadi</i>, or Tenth-day, shall always - be “the Day of Rest.” And the Christian Sabbath, in that case? Shall - shift for itself! - </p> - - <p> - This, in brief, in this New Calendar of Romme and the Convention; - calculated for the meridian of Paris, and Gospel of Jean-Jacques: not one - of the least afflicting occurrences for the actual British reader of - French History;—confusing the soul with <i>Messidors, - Meadowals;</i> till at last, in self-defence, one is forced to construct - some ground-scheme, or rule of Commutation from New-style to Old-style, - and have it lying by him. Such ground-scheme, almost worn out in our - service, but still legible and printable, we shall now, in a Note, - present to the reader. For the Romme Calendar, in so many Newspapers, - Memoirs, Public Acts, has stamped itself deep into that section of Time: - a New Era that lasts some Twelve years and odd is not to be despised.<a - href="#linknote-673" name="linknoteref-673" - id="linknoteref-673">[673]</a> Let the reader, therefore, with such - ground-scheme, help himself, where needful, out of New-style into - Old-style, called also “slave-style, <i>stile-esclave;</i>”—whereof - we, in these pages, shall as much as possible use the latter only. - </p> - - <p> - Thus with new Feast of Pikes, and New Era or New Calendar, did France - accept her New Constitution: the most Democratic Constitution ever - committed to paper. How it will work in practice? Patriot Deputations - from time to time solicit fruition of it; that it be set a-going. Always, - however, this seems questionable; for the moment, unsuitable. Till, in - some weeks, <i>Salut Public</i>, through the organ of Saint-Just, makes - report, that, in the present alarming circumstances, the state of France - is Revolutionary; that her “Government must be Revolutionary till the - Peace!” Solely as Paper, then, and as a Hope, must this poor New - Constitution exist;—in which shape we may conceive it lying; even - now, with an infinity of other things, in that Limbo near the Moon. - Further than paper it never got, nor ever will get. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0134" id="link2HCH0134"></a> - Chapter 3.4.V.<br/> - Sword of Sharpness. - </h3> - - <p> - In fact it is something quite other than paper theorems, it is iron and - audacity that France now needs. - </p> - - <p> - Is not La Vendée still blazing;—alas too literally; rogue Rossignol - burning the very corn-mills? General Santerre could do nothing there; - General Rossignol, in blind fury, often in liquor, can do less than - nothing. Rebellion spreads, grows ever madder. Happily those lean - Quixote-figures, whom we saw retreating out of Mentz, “bound not to serve - against the Coalition for a year,” have got to Paris. National Convention - packs them into post-vehicles and conveyances; sends them swiftly, by - post, into La Vendée! There valiantly struggling, in obscure battle and - skirmish, under rogue Rossignol, let them, unlaurelled, save the - Republic, and “be cut down gradually to the last man.”<a - href="#linknote-674" name="linknoteref-674" - id="linknoteref-674">[674]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Does not the Coalition, like a fire-tide, pour in; Prussia through the - opened North-East; Austria, England through the North-West? General - Houchard prospers no better there than General Custine did: let him look - to it! Through the Eastern and the Western Pyrenees Spain has deployed - itself; spreads, rustling with Bourbon banners, over the face of the - South. Ashes and embers of confused Girondin civil war covered that - region already. Marseilles is damped down, not quenched; to be quenched - in blood. Toulon, terrorstruck, too far gone for turning, has flung - itself, ye righteous Powers,—into the hands of the English! On - Toulon Arsenal there flies a Flag,—nay not even the Fleur-de-lys of - a Louis Pretender; there flies that accursed St. George’s Cross of the - English and Admiral Hood! What remnants of sea-craft, arsenals, roperies, - war-navy France had, has given itself to these enemies of human nature, - “<i>ennemis du genre humain</i>.” Beleaguer it, bombard it, ye - Commissioners Barras, Fréron, Robespierre Junior; thou General Cartaux, - General Dugommier; above all, thou remarkable Artillery-Major, Napoleon - Buonaparte! Hood is fortifying himself, victualling himself; means, - apparently, to make a new Gibraltar of it. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - But lo, in the Autumn night, late night, among the last of August, what - sudden red sunblaze is this that has risen over Lyons City; with a noise - to deafen the world? It is the Powder-tower of Lyons, nay the Arsenal - with four Powder-towers, which has caught fire in the Bombardment; and - sprung into the air, carrying “a hundred and seventeen houses” after it. - With a light, one fancies, as of the noon sun; with a roar second only to - the Last Trumpet! All living sleepers far and wide it has awakened. What - a sight was that, which the eye of History saw, in the sudden nocturnal - sunblaze! The roofs of hapless Lyons, and all its domes and steeples made - momentarily clear; Rhone and Saone streams flashing suddenly visible; and - height and hollow, hamlet and smooth stubblefield, and all the region - round;—heights, alas, all scarped and counterscarped, into - trenches, curtains, redouts; blue Artillery-men, little Powder-devilkins, - plying their hell-trade there, through the <i>not</i> ambrosial night! - Let the darkness cover it again; for it pains the eye. Of a truth, - Chalier’s death is costing this City dear. Convention Commissioners, - Lyons Congresses have come and gone; and action there was and reaction; - bad ever growing worse; till it has come to this: Commissioner - Dubois-Crancé, “with seventy thousand men, and all the Artillery of - several Provinces,” bombarding Lyons day and night. - </p> - - <p> - Worse things still are in store. Famine is in Lyons, and ruin, and fire. - Desperate are the sallies of the besieged; brave Précy, their National - Colonel and Commandant, doing what is in man: desperate but ineffectual. - Provisions cut off; nothing entering our city but shot and shells! The - Arsenal has roared aloft; the very Hospital will be battered down, and - the sick buried alive. A Black Flag hung on this latter noble Edifice, - appealing to the pity of the beseigers; for though maddened, were they - not still our brethren? In their blind wrath, they took it for a flag of - defiance, and aimed thitherward the more. Bad is growing ever worse here: - and how will the worse stop, till it have grown worst of all? - Commissioner Dubois will listen to no pleading, to no speech, save this - only, “We surrender at discretion.” Lyons contains in it subdued - Jacobins; dominant Girondins; secret Royalists. And now, mere deaf - madness and cannon-shot enveloping them, will not the desperate - Municipality fly, at last, into the arms of Royalism itself? Majesty of - Sardinia was to bring help, but it failed. Emigrant Autichamp, in name of - the Two Pretender Royal Highnesses, is coming through Switzerland with - help; coming, not yet come: Précy hoists the Fleur-de-lys! - </p> - - <p> - At sight of which, all true Girondins sorrowfully fling down their - arms:—Let our Tricolor brethren storm us, then, and slay us in - their wrath: with <i>you</i> we conquer not. The famishing women and - children are sent forth: deaf Dubois sends them back;—rains in mere - fire and madness. Our “redouts of cotton-bags” are taken, retaken; Précy - under his Fleur-de-lys is valiant as Despair. What will become of Lyons? - It is a siege of seventy days.<a href="#linknote-675" - name="linknoteref-675" id="linknoteref-675">[675]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or see, in these same weeks, far in the Western waters: breasting through - the Bay of Biscay, a greasy dingy little Merchantship, with Scotch - skipper; under hatches whereof sit, disconsolate,—the last forlorn - nucleus of Girondism, the Deputies from Quimper! Several have dissipated - themselves, whithersoever they could. Poor Riouffe fell into the talons - of Revolutionary Committee, and Paris Prison. The rest sit here under - hatches; reverend Pétion with his grey hair, angry Buzot, suspicious - Louvet, brave young Barbaroux, and others. They have escaped from - Quimper, in this sad craft; are now tacking and struggling; in danger - from the waves, in danger from the English, in still worse danger from - the French;—banished by Heaven and Earth to the greasy belly of - this Scotch skipper’s Merchant-vessel, unfruitful Atlantic raving round. - They are for Bourdeaux, if peradventure hope yet linger there. Enter not - Bourdeaux, O Friends! Bloody Convention Representatives, Tallien and such - like, with their Edicts, with their Guillotine, have arrived there; - Respectability is driven under ground; Jacobinism lords it on high. From - that Réole landingplace, or <i>Beak of Ambès</i>, as it were, Pale Death, - waving his Revolutionary Sword of sharpness, waves you elsewhither! - </p> - - <p> - On one side or the other of that Bec d’Ambès, the Scotch Skipper with - difficulty moors, a dexterous greasy man; with difficulty lands his - Girondins;—who, after reconnoitring, must rapidly burrow in the - Earth; and so, in subterranean ways, in friends’ back-closets, in - cellars, barn-lofts, in Caves of Saint-Emilion and Libourne, stave off - cruel Death.<a href="#linknote-676" name="linknoteref-676" - id="linknoteref-676">[676]</a> Unhappiest of all Senators! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0135" id="link2HCH0135"></a> - Chapter 3.4.VI.<br/> - Risen against Tyrants. - </h3> - - <p> - Against all which incalculable impediments, horrors and disasters, what - can a Jacobin Convention oppose? The uncalculating Spirit of Jacobinism, - and Sansculottic sans-formulistic Frenzy! Our Enemies press in on us, - says Danton, but they shall not conquer us, ‘we will burn France to ashes - rather, <i>nous brûlerons la France</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - Committees, of <i>Sureté</i> or <i>Salut</i>, have raised themselves - “<i>à la hauteur</i>, to the height of circumstances.” Let all mortals - raise themselves <i>à la hauteur</i>. Let the Forty-four thousand - Sections and their Revolutionary Committees stir every fibre of the - Republic; and every Frenchman feel that he is to do or die. They are the - life-circulation of Jacobinism, these Sections and Committees: Danton, - through the organ of Barrère and <i>Salut Public</i>, gets decreed, That - there be in Paris, by law, two meetings of Section weekly; also, that the - Poorer Citizen be <i>paid</i> for attending, and have his day’s-wages of - Forty Sous.<a href="#linknote-677" name="linknoteref-677" - id="linknoteref-677">[677]</a> This is the celebrated “Law of the Forty - Sous;” fiercely stimulant to Sansculottism, to the life-circulation of - Jacobinism. - </p> - - <p> - On the twenty-third of August, Committee of Public Salvation, as usual - through Barrère, had promulgated, in words not unworthy of remembering, - their Report, which is soon made into a Law, of <i>Levy in Mass</i>. “All - France, and whatsoever it contains of men or resources, is put under - requisition,” says Barrère; really in Tyrtæan words, the best we know of - his. “The Republic is one vast besieged city.” Two hundred and fifty - Forges shall, in these days, be set up in the Luxembourg Garden, and - round the outer wall of the Tuileries; to make gun-barrels; in sight of - Earth and Heaven! From all hamlets, towards their Departmental Town; from - all their Departmental Towns, towards the appointed Camp and seat of war, - the Sons of Freedom shall march; their banner is to bear: “<i>Le Peuple - Français debout contres les Tyrans</i>, The French People risen against - Tyrants.” “The young men shall go to the battle; it is their task to - conquer: the married men shall forge arms, transport baggage and - artillery; provide subsistence: the women shall work at soldiers’ - clothes, make tents; serve in the hospitals. The children shall scrape - old-linen into surgeon’s-lint: the aged men shall have themselves carried - into public places; and there, by their words, excite the courage of the - young; preach hatred to Kings and unity to the Republic.”<a - href="#linknote-678" name="linknoteref-678" - id="linknoteref-678">[678]</a> Tyrtæan words, which tingle through all - French hearts. - </p> - - <p> - In this humour, then, since no other serves, will France rush against its - enemies. Headlong, reckoning no cost or consequence; heeding no law or - rule but that supreme law, Salvation of the People! The weapons are all - the iron that is in France; the strength is that of all the men, women - and children that are in France. There, in their two hundred and fifty - shed-smithies, in Garden of Luxembourg or Tuileries, let them forge - gun-barrels, in sight of Heaven and Earth. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Nor with heroic daring against the Foreign foe, can black vengeance - against the Domestic be wanting. Life-circulation of the Revolutionary - Committees being quickened by that <i>Law of the Forty Sous</i>, Deputy - Merlin, not the Thionviller, whom we saw ride out of Mentz, but Merlin of - Douai, named subsequently Merlin <i>Suspect</i>,—comes, about a - week after, with his world-famous <i>Law of the Suspect:</i> ordering all - Sections, by their Committees, instantly to arrest all Persons Suspect; - and explaining withal who the Arrestable and Suspect specially are. ‘Are - Suspect,’ says he, ‘all who by their actions, by their connexions, - speakings, writings have’—in short become Suspect.<a - href="#linknote-679" name="linknoteref-679" - id="linknoteref-679">[679]</a> Nay Chaumette, illuminating the matter - still further, in his Municipal Placards and Proclamations, will bring it - about that you may almost recognise a Suspect on the streets, and clutch - him there,—off to Committee, and Prison. Watch well your words, - watch well your looks: if Suspect of nothing else, you may grow, as came - to be a saying, “Suspect of being Suspect!” For are we not in a State of - Revolution? - </p> - - <p> - No frightfuller Law ever ruled in a Nation of men. All Prisons and Houses - of Arrest in French land are getting crowded to the ridge-tile: - Forty-four thousand Committees, like as many companies of reapers or - gleaners, gleaning France, are gathering their harvest, and storing it in - these Houses. Harvest of Aristocrat tares! Nay, lest the Forty-four - thousand, each on its own harvest-field, prove insufficient, we are to - have an ambulant “Revolutionary Army:” six thousand strong, under right - captains, this shall perambulate the country at large, and strike in - wherever it finds such harvest-work slack. So have Municipality and - Mother Society petitioned; so has Convention decreed.<a - href="#linknote-680" name="linknoteref-680" - id="linknoteref-680">[680]</a> Let Aristocrats, Federalists, Monsieurs - vanish, and all men tremble: “The Soil of Liberty shall be - purged,”—with a vengeance! - </p> - - <p> - Neither hitherto has the Revolutionary Tribunal been keeping holyday. - Blanchelande, for losing Saint-Domingo; “Conspirators of Orleans,” for - “assassinating,” for assaulting the sacred Deputy Leonard-Bourdon: these - with many Nameless, to whom life was sweet, have died. Daily the great - Guillotine has its due. Like a black Spectre, daily at eventide, glides - the Death-tumbril through the variegated throng of things. The variegated - street shudders at it, for the moment; next moment forgets it: The - Aristocrats! They were guilty against the Republic; their death, were it - only that their goods are confiscated, will be useful to the Republic; - <i>Vive la République!</i> - </p> - - <p> - In the last days of August, fell a notabler head: General Custine’s. - Custine was accused of harshness, of unskilfulness, perfidiousness; - accused of many things: found guilty, we may say, of one thing, - unsuccessfulness. Hearing his unexpected Sentence, “Custine fell down - before the Crucifix,” silent for the space of two hours: he fared, with - moist eyes and a book of prayer, towards the Place de la Révolution; - glanced upwards at the clear suspended axe; then mounted swiftly aloft,<a - href="#linknote-681" name="linknoteref-681" - id="linknoteref-681">[681]</a> swiftly was struck away from the lists of - the Living. He had fought in America; he was a proud, brave man; and his - fortune led him <i>hither</i>. - </p> - - <p> - On the 2nd of this same month, at three in the morning, a vehicle rolled - off, with closed blinds, from the Temple to the Conciergerie. Within it - were two Municipals; and Marie-Antoinette, once Queen of France! There in - that Conciergerie, in ignominious dreary cell, she, cut off from - children, kindred, friend and hope, sits long weeks; expecting when the - end will be.<a href="#linknote-682" name="linknoteref-682" - id="linknoteref-682">[682]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The Guillotine, we find, gets always a quicker motion, as other things - are quickening. The Guillotine, by its speed of going, will give index of - the general velocity of the Republic. The clanking of its huge axe, - rising and falling there, in horrid systole-diastole, is portion of the - whole enormous Life-movement and pulsation of the Sansculottic - System!—“Orléans Conspirators” and Assaulters had to die, in spite - of much weeping and entreating; so sacred is the person of a Deputy. Yet - the sacred can become desecrated: your very Deputy is not greater than - the Guillotine. Poor Deputy Journalist Gorsas: we saw him hide at Rennes, - when the Calvados War burnt priming. He stole afterwards, in August, to - Paris; lurked several weeks about the Palais <i>ci-devant</i> Royal; was - seen there, one day; was clutched, identified, and without ceremony, - being already “out of the Law,” was sent to the Place de la Révolution. - He died, recommending his wife and children to the pity of the Republic. - It is the ninth day of October 1793. Gorsas is the first Deputy that dies - on the scaffold; he will not be the last. - </p> - - <p> - Ex-Mayor Bailly is in prison; Ex-Procureur Manuel. Brissot and our poor - Arrested Girondins have become Incarcerated Indicted Girondins; universal - Jacobinism clamouring for their punishment. Duperret’s Seals are - <i>broken!</i> Those Seventy-three Secret Protesters, suddenly one day, - are reported upon, are decreed accused; the Convention-doors being - “previously shut,” that none implicated might escape. They were marched, - in a very rough manner, to Prison that evening. Happy those of them who - chanced to be absent! Condorcet has vanished into darkness; perhaps, like - Rabaut, sits between two walls, in the house of a friend. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0136" id="link2HCH0136"></a> - Chapter 3.4.VII.<br/> - Marie-Antoinette. - </h3> - - <p> - On Monday the Fourteenth of October, 1793, a Cause is pending in the - Palais de Justice, in the new Revolutionary Court, such as these old - stone-walls never witnessed: the Trial of Marie-Antoinette. The once - brightest of Queens, now tarnished, defaced, forsaken, stands here at - Fouquier Tinville’s Judgment-bar; answering for her life! The Indictment - was delivered her last night.<a href="#linknote-683" - name="linknoteref-683" id="linknoteref-683">[683]</a> To such changes of - human fortune what words are adequate? Silence alone is adequate. - </p> - - <p> - There are few Printed things one meets with, of such tragic almost - ghastly significance as those bald Pages of the <i>Bulletin du Tribunal - Révolutionnaire</i>, which bear title, <i>Trial of the Widow Capet</i>. - Dim, dim, as if in disastrous eclipse; like the pale kingdoms of Dis! - Plutonic Judges, Plutonic Tinville; encircled, nine times, with Styx and - Lethe, with Fire-Phlegethon and Cocytus named of Lamentation! The very - witnesses summoned are like Ghosts: exculpatory, inculpatory, they - themselves are all hovering over death and doom; they are known, in our - imagination, as the prey of the Guillotine. Tall <i>ci-devant</i> Count - d’Estaing, anxious to shew himself Patriot, cannot escape; nor Bailly, - who, when asked If he knows the Accused, answers with a reverent - inclination towards her, ‘Ah, yes, I know Madame.’ Ex-Patriots are here, - sharply dealt with, as Procureur Manuel; Ex-Ministers, shorn of their - splendour. We have cold Aristocratic impassivity, faithful to itself even - in Tartarus; rabid stupidity, of Patriot Corporals, Patriot Washerwomen, - who have much to say of Plots, Treasons, August Tenth, old Insurrection - of Women. For all now has become a crime, in her who has <i>lost</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Marie-Antoinette, in this her utter abandonment and hour of extreme need, - is not wanting to herself, the imperial woman. Her look, they say, as - that hideous Indictment was reading, continued calm; “she was sometimes - observed moving her fingers, as when one plays on the Piano.” You - discern, not without interest, across that dim Revolutionary Bulletin - itself, how she bears herself queenlike. Her answers are prompt, clear, - often of Laconic brevity; resolution, which has grown contemptuous - without ceasing to be dignified, veils itself in calm words. ‘You persist - then in denial?’—‘My plan is not denial: it is the truth I have - said, and I persist in that.’ Scandalous Hébert has borne his testimony - as to many things: as to one thing, concerning Marie-Antoinette and her - little Son,—wherewith Human Speech had better not further be - soiled. She has answered Hébert; a Juryman begs to observe that she has - not answered as to this. ‘I have not answered,’ she exclaims with noble - emotion, ‘because Nature refuses to answer such a charge brought against - a Mother. I appeal to all the Mothers that are here.’ Robespierre, when - he heard of it, broke out into something almost like swearing at the - brutish blockheadism of this Hébert;<a href="#linknote-684" - name="linknoteref-684" id="linknoteref-684">[684]</a> on whose foul head - his foul lie has recoiled. At four o’clock on Wednesday morning, after - two days and two nights of interrogating, jury-charging, and other - darkening of counsel, the result comes out: Sentence of Death. ‘Have you - anything to say?’ The Accused shook her head, without speech. Night’s - candles are burning out; and with her too Time is finishing, and it will - be Eternity and Day. This Hall of Tinville’s is dark, ill-lighted except - where she stands. Silently she withdraws from it, to die. - </p> - - <p> - Two Processions, or Royal Progresses, three-and-twenty years apart, have - often struck us with a strange feeling of contrast. The first is of a - beautiful Archduchess and Dauphiness, quitting her Mother’s City, at the - age of Fifteen; towards hopes such as no other Daughter of Eve then had: - “On the morrow,” says Weber an eye witness, “the Dauphiness left Vienna. - The whole City crowded out; at first with a sorrow which was silent. She - appeared: you saw her sunk back into her carriage; her face bathed in - tears; hiding her eyes now with her handkerchief, now with her hands; - several times putting out her head to see yet again this Palace of her - Fathers, whither she was to return no more. She motioned her regret, her - gratitude to the good Nation, which was crowding here to bid her - farewell. Then arose not only tears; but piercing cries, on all sides. - Men and women alike abandoned themselves to such expression of their - sorrow. It was an audible sound of wail, in the streets and avenues of - Vienna. The last Courier that followed her disappeared, and the crowd - melted away.”<a href="#linknote-685" name="linknoteref-685" - id="linknoteref-685">[685]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The young imperial Maiden of Fifteen has now become a worn discrowned - Widow of Thirty-eight; grey before her time: this is the last Procession: - “Few minutes after the Trial ended, the drums were beating to arms in all - Sections; at sunrise the armed force was on foot, cannons getting placed - at the extremities of the Bridges, in the Squares, Crossways, all along - from the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Révolution. By ten o’clock, - numerous patrols were circulating in the Streets; thirty thousand foot - and horse drawn up under arms. At eleven, Marie-Antoinette was brought - out. She had on an undress of <i>piqué blanc:</i> she was led to the - place of execution, in the same manner as an ordinary criminal; bound, on - a Cart; accompanied by a Constitutional Priest in Lay dress; escorted by - numerous detachments of infantry and cavalry. These, and the double row - of troops all along her road, she appeared to regard with indifference. - On her countenance there was visible neither abashment nor pride. To the - cries of <i>Vive la République</i> and <i>Down with Tyranny</i>, which - attended her all the way, she seemed to pay no heed. She spoke little to - her Confessor. The tricolor Streamers on the housetops occupied her - attention, in the Streets du Roule and Saint-Honoré; she also noticed the - Inscriptions on the house-fronts. On reaching the Place de la Révolution, - her looks turned towards the <i>Jardin National</i>, whilom Tuileries; - her face at that moment gave signs of lively emotion. She mounted the - Scaffold with courage enough; at a quarter past Twelve, her head fell; - the Executioner shewed it to the people, amid universal long-continued - cries of “<i>Vive la République</i>.”<a href="#linknote-686" - name="linknoteref-686" id="linknoteref-686">[686]</a> - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0137" id="link2HCH0137"></a> - Chapter 3.4.VIII.<br/> - The Twenty-two. - </h3> - - <p> - Whom next, O Tinville? The next are of a different colour: our poor - Arrested Girondin Deputies. What of them could still be laid hold of; our - Vergniaud, Brissot, Fauchet, Valazé, Gensonné; the once flower of French - Patriotism, Twenty-two by the tale: <i>hither</i>, at Tinville’s Bar, - onward from “safeguard of the French People,” from confinement in the - Luxembourg, imprisonment in the Conciergerie, have they now, by the - course of things, arrived. Fouquier Tinville must give what account of - them he can. - </p> - - <p> - Undoubtedly this Trial of the Girondins is the greatest that Fouquier has - yet had to do. Twenty-two, all chief Republicans, ranged in a line there; - the most eloquent in France; Lawyers too; not without friends in the - auditory. How will Tinville prove these men guilty of Royalism, - Federalism, Conspiracy against the Republic? Vergniaud’s eloquence awakes - once more; “draws tears,” they say. And Journalists report, and the Trial - lengthens itself out day after day; “threatens to become eternal,” murmur - many. Jacobinism and Municipality rise to the aid of Fouquier. On the - 28th of the month, Hébert and others come in deputation to inform a - Patriot Convention that the Revolutionary Tribunal is quite “shackled by - forms of Law;” that a Patriot Jury ought to have “the power of cutting - short, of <i>terminer les débats</i>, when they feel themselves - convinced.” Which pregnant suggestion, of cutting short, passes itself, - with all despatch, into a Decree. - </p> - - <p> - Accordingly, at ten o’clock on the night of the 30th of October, the - Twenty-two, summoned back once more, receive this information, That the - Jury feeling themselves convinced have cut short, have brought in their - verdict; that the Accused are found guilty, and the Sentence on one and - all of them is Death with confiscation of goods. - </p> - - <p> - Loud natural clamour rises among the poor Girondins; tumult; which can - only be repressed by the gendarmes. Valazé stabs himself; falls down dead - on the spot. The rest, amid loud clamour and confusion, are driven back - to their Conciergerie; Lasource exclaiming, ‘I die on the day when the - People have lost their reason; ye will die when they recover it.’<a - href="#linknote-687" name="linknoteref-687" - id="linknoteref-687">[687]</a> No help! Yielding to violence, the Doomed - uplift the Hymn of the Marseillese; return singing to their dungeon. - </p> - - <p> - Riouffe, who was their Prison-mate in these last days, has lovingly - recorded what death they made. To our notions, it is not an edifying - death. Gay satirical <i>Pot-pourri</i> by Ducos; rhymed Scenes of - Tragedy, wherein Barrère and Robespierre discourse with Satan; death’s - eve spent in “singing” and “sallies of gaiety,” with “discourses on the - happiness of peoples:” these things, and the like of these, we have to - accept for what they are worth. It is the manner in which the Girondins - make <i>their</i> Last Supper. Valazé, with bloody breast, sleeps cold in - death; hears not their singing. Vergniaud has his dose of poison; but it - is not enough for his friends, it is enough only for himself; wherefore - he flings it from him; presides at this Last Supper of the Girondins, - with wild coruscations of eloquence, with song and mirth. Poor human Will - struggles to assert itself; if not in this way, then in that.<a - href="#linknote-688" name="linknoteref-688" - id="linknoteref-688">[688]</a> - </p> - - <p> - But on the morrow morning all Paris is out; such a crowd as no man had - seen. The Death-carts, Valazé’s cold corpse stretched among the yet - living Twenty-one, roll along. Bareheaded, hands bound; in their - shirt-sleeves, coat flung loosely round the neck: so fare the eloquent of - France; bemurmured, beshouted. To the shouts of <i>Vive la - République</i>, some of them keep answering with counter-shouts of - <i>Vive la République</i>. Others, as Brissot, sit sunk in silence. At - the foot of the scaffold they again strike up, with appropriate - variations, the Hymn of the Marseillese. Such an act of music; conceive - it well! The yet Living chant there; the chorus so rapidly wearing weak! - Samson’s axe is rapid; one head per minute, or little less. The chorus is - worn out; farewell for evermore ye Girondins. Te-Deum Fauchet has become - silent; Valazé’s dead head is lopped: the sickle of the Guillotine has - reaped the Girondins all away. “The eloquent, the young, the beautiful - and brave!” exclaims Riouffe. O Death, what feast is toward in thy - ghastly Halls? - </p> - - <p> - Nor alas, in the far Bourdeaux region, will Girondism fare better. In - caves of Saint-Emilion, in loft and cellar, the weariest months, roll on; - apparel worn, purse empty; wintry November come; under Tallien and his - Guillotine, all hope now gone. Danger drawing ever nigher, difficulty - pressing ever straiter, they determine to separate. Not unpathetic the - farewell; tall Barbaroux, cheeriest of brave men, stoops to clasp his - Louvet: ‘In what place soever thou findest my mother,’ cries he, ‘try to - be instead of a son to her: no resource of mine but I will share with thy - Wife, should chance ever lead me where she is.’<a href="#linknote-689" - name="linknoteref-689" id="linknoteref-689">[689]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Louvet went with Guadet, with Salles and Valady; Barbaroux with Buzot and - Pétion. Valady soon went southward, on a way of his own. The two friends - and Louvet had a miserable day and night; the 14th of November month, - 1793. Sunk in wet, weariness and hunger, they knock, on the morrow, for - help, at a friend’s country-house; the fainthearted friend refuses to - admit them. They stood therefore under trees, in the pouring rain. Flying - desperate, Louvet thereupon will to Paris. He sets forth, there and then, - splashing the mud on each side of him, with a fresh strength gathered - from fury or frenzy. He passes villages, finding “the sentry asleep in - his box in the thick rain;” he is gone, before the man can call after - him. He bilks Revolutionary Committees; rides in carriers’ carts, covered - carts and open; lies hidden in one, under knapsacks and cloaks of - soldiers’ wives on the Street of Orléans, while men search for him: has - hairbreadth escapes that would fill three romances: finally he gets to - Paris to his fair Helpmate; gets to Switzerland, and waits better days. - </p> - - <p> - Poor Guadet and Salles were both taken, ere long; they died by the - Guillotine in Bourdeaux; drums beating to drown their voice. Valady also - is caught, and guillotined. Barbaroux and his two comrades weathered it - longer, into the summer of 1794; but not long enough. One July morning, - changing their hiding place, as they have often to do, “about a league - from Saint-Emilion, they observe a great crowd of country-people;” - doubtless Jacobins come to take them? Barbaroux draws a pistol, shoots - himself dead. Alas, and it was not Jacobins; it was harmless villagers - going to a village wake. Two days afterwards, Buzot and Pétion were found - in a Cornfield, their bodies half-eaten with dogs.<a href="#linknote-690" - name="linknoteref-690" id="linknoteref-690">[690]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Such was the end of Girondism. They arose to regenerate France, these - men; and have accomplished <i>this</i>. Alas, whatever quarrel we had - with them, has not their cruel fate abolished it? Pity only survives. So - many excellent souls of heroes sent down to Hades; they themselves given - as a prey of dogs and all manner of birds! But, here too, the will of the - Supreme Power was accomplished. As Vergniaud said: “The Revolution, like - Saturn, is devouring its own children.” - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0161" id="link2H_4_0161"></a> - BOOK 3.V.<br/> - TERROR THE ORDER OF THE DAY - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0138" id="link2HCH0138"></a> - Chapter 3.5.I.<br/> - Rushing down. - </h3> - - <p> - We are now, therefore, got to that black precipitous Abyss; whither all - things have long been tending; where, having now arrived on the giddy - verge, they hurl down, in confused ruin; headlong, pellmell, down, - down;—till Sansculottism have consummated itself; and in this - wondrous French Revolution, as in a Doomsday, a World have been rapidly, - if not born again, yet destroyed and engulphed. Terror has long been - terrible: but to the actors themselves it has now become manifest that - their appointed course is one of Terror; and they say, Be it so. ‘<i>Que - la Terreur soit a l’ordre du jour</i>.’ - </p> - - <p> - So many centuries, say only from Hugh Capet downwards, had been adding - together, century transmitting it with increase to century, the sum of - Wickedness, of Falsehood, Oppression of man by man. Kings were sinners, - and Priests were, and People. Open-Scoundrels rode triumphant, - bediademed, becoronetted, bemitred; or the still fataller species of - Secret-Scoundrels, in their fair-sounding formulas, speciosities, - respectabilities, hollow within: the race of Quacks was grown many as the - sands of the sea. Till at length such a sum of Quackery had accumulated - itself as, in brief, the Earth and the Heavens were weary of. Slow seemed - the Day of Settlement: coming on, all imperceptible, across the bluster - and fanfaronade of Courtierisms, Conquering-Heroisms, Most-Christian - <i>Grand Monarque</i>-isms. Well-beloved Pompadourisms: yet behold it was - always coming; behold it has come, suddenly, unlooked for by any man! The - harvest of long centuries was ripening and whitening so rapidly of late; - and now it is grown <i>white</i>, and is reaped rapidly, as it were, in - one day. Reaped, in this Reign of Terror; and carried home, to Hades and - the Pit!—Unhappy Sons of Adam: it is ever so; and never do they - know it, nor will they know it. With cheerfully smoothed countenances, - day after day, and generation after generation, they, calling cheerfully - to one another, ‘Well-speed-ye,’ are at work, <i>sowing the wind</i>. And - yet, as God lives, they <i>shall reap the whirlwind:</i> no other thing, - we say, is possible,—since God is a Truth and His World is a Truth. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - History, however, in dealing with this Reign of Terror, has had her own - difficulties. While the Phenomenon continued in its primary state, as - mere “Horrors of the French Revolution,” there was abundance to be said - and shrieked. With and also without profit. Heaven knows there were - terrors and horrors enough: yet that was not all the Phenomenon; nay, - more properly, that was not the Phenomenon at all, but rather was the - <i>shadow</i> of it, the negative part of it. And now, in a new stage of - the business, when History, ceasing to shriek, would try rather to - include under her old Forms of speech or speculation this new amazing - Thing; that so some accredited scientific Law of Nature might suffice for - the unexpected Product of Nature, and History might get to speak of it - articulately, and draw inferences and profit from it; in this new stage, - History, we must say, babbles and flounders perhaps in a still painfuller - manner. Take, for example, the latest Form of speech we have seen - propounded on the subject as adequate to it, almost in these months, by - our worthy M. Roux, in his <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>. The latest and - the strangest: that the French Revolution was a dead-lift effort, after - eighteen hundred years of preparation, to realise—the Christian - Religion!<a href="#linknote-691" name="linknoteref-691" - id="linknoteref-691">[691]</a> <i>Unity, Indivisibility, Brotherhood or - Death</i> did indeed stand printed on all Houses of the Living; also, on - Cemeteries, or Houses of the Dead, stood printed, by order of Procureur - Chaumette, Here is eternal Sleep:<a href="#linknote-692" - name="linknoteref-692" id="linknoteref-692">[692]</a> but a Christian - Religion realised by the Guillotine and Death-Eternal, “is suspect to - me,” as Robespierre was wont to say, “<i>m’est suspecte.</i>” - </p> - - <p> - Alas, no, M. Roux! A Gospel of Brotherhood, not according to any of the - Four old Evangelists, and calling on men to repent, and amend <i>each his - own</i> wicked existence, that they might be saved; but a Gospel rather, - as we often hint, according to a new Fifth Evangelist Jean-Jacques, - calling on men to amend <i>each the whole world’s</i> wicked existence, - and be saved by making the Constitution. A thing different and distant - <i>toto cœlo</i>, as they say: the whole breadth of the sky, and further - if possible!—It is thus, however, that History, and indeed all - human Speech and Reason does yet, what Father Adam began life by doing: - strive to <i>name</i> the new Things it sees of Nature’s - producing,—often helplessly enough. - </p> - - <p> - But what if History were to admit, for once, that all the Names and - Theorems yet known to her fall short? That this grand Product of Nature - was even grand, and new, in that it came not to range itself under old - recorded Laws-of-Nature at all; but to disclose new ones? In that case, - History renouncing the pretention to <i>name</i> it at present, will - <i>look</i> honestly at it, and name what she can of it! Any - approximation to the right Name has value: were the right name itself - once here, the Thing is known thenceforth; the Thing is then ours, and - can be dealt with. - </p> - - <p> - Now surely not realization, of Christianity, or of aught earthly, do we - discern in this Reign of Terror, in this French Revolution of which it is - the consummating. Destruction rather we discern—of all that was - destructible. It is as if Twenty-five millions, risen at length into the - Pythian mood, had stood up simultaneously to say, with a sound which goes - through far lands and times, that this Untruth of an Existence had become - insupportable. O ye Hypocrisies and Speciosities, Royal mantles, Cardinal - plushcloaks, ye Credos, Formulas, Respectabilities, fair-painted - Sepulchres full of dead men’s bones,—behold, ye appear to us to be - altogether a Lie. Yet our Life is not a Lie; yet our Hunger and Misery is - not a Lie! Behold we lift up, one and all, our Twenty-five million - right-hands; and take the Heavens, and the Earth and also the Pit of - Tophet to witness, that either ye shall be abolished, or else we shall be - abolished! - </p> - - <p> - No inconsiderable Oath, truly; forming, as has been often said, the most - remarkable transaction in these last thousand years. Wherefrom likewise - there follow, and will follow, results. The fulfilment of this Oath; that - is to say, the black desperate battle of Men against their whole - Condition and Environment,—a battle, alas, withal, against the Sin - and Darkness that was in themselves as in others: this is the Reign of - Terror. Transcendental despair was the purport of it, though not - consciously so. False hopes, of Fraternity, Political Millennium, and - what not, we have always seen: but the unseen heart of the whole, the - transcendental despair, was not false; neither has it been of no effect. - Despair, pushed far enough, completes the circle, so to speak; and - becomes a kind of genuine productive hope again. - </p> - - <p> - Doctrine of Fraternity, out of old Catholicism, does, it is true, very - strangely in the vehicle of a Jean-Jacques Evangel, suddenly plump down - out of its cloud-firmament; and from a theorem determine to make itself a - practice. But just so do all creeds, intentions, customs, knowledges, - thoughts and things, which the French have, suddenly plump down; - Catholicism, Classicism, Sentimentalism, Cannibalism: all <i>isms</i> - that make up Man in France, are rushing and roaring in that gulf; and the - theorem has become a practice, and whatsoever cannot swim sinks. Not - Evangelist Jean-Jacques alone; there is not a Village Schoolmaster but - has contributed his quota: do we not <i>thou</i> one another, according - to the Free Peoples of Antiquity? The French Patriot, in red phrygian - nightcap of Liberty, christens his poor little red infant - Cato,—Censor, or else of Utica. Gracchus has become Baboeuf and - edits Newspapers; Mutius Scaevola, Cordwainer of that ilk, presides in - the Section Mutius-Scaevola: and in brief, there is a world wholly - jumbling itself, to try what will swim! - </p> - - <p> - Wherefore we will, at all events, call this Reign of Terror a very - strange one. Dominant Sansculottism makes, as it were, free arena; one of - the strangest temporary states Humanity was ever seen in. A nation of - men, full of wants and void of habits! The old habits are gone to wreck - because they were old: men, driven forward by Necessity and fierce - Pythian Madness, have, on the spur of the instant, to devise for the want - the <i>way</i> of satisfying it. The wonted tumbles down; by imitation, - by invention, the Unwonted hastily builds itself up. What the French - National head has in it comes out: if not a great result, surely one of - the strangest. - </p> - - <p> - Neither shall the reader fancy that it was all blank, this Reign of - Terror: far from it. How many hammermen and squaremen, bakers and - brewers, washers and wringers, over this France, must ply their old daily - work, let the Government be one of Terror or one of Joy! In this Paris - there are Twenty-three Theatres nightly; some count as many as Sixty - Places of Dancing.<a href="#linknote-693" name="linknoteref-693" - id="linknoteref-693">[693]</a> The Playwright manufactures: pieces of a - strictly Republican character. Ever fresh Novelgarbage, as of old, - fodders the Circulating Libraries.<a href="#linknote-694" - name="linknoteref-694" id="linknoteref-694">[694]</a> The “Cesspool of - <i>Agio</i>,” now in the time of Paper Money, works with a vivacity - unexampled, unimagined; exhales from itself “sudden fortunes,” like - Alladin-Palaces: really a kind of miraculous Fata-Morganas, since you - <i>can</i> live in them, for a time. Terror is as a sable ground, on - which the most variegated of scenes paints itself. In startling - transitions, in colours all intensated, the sublime, the ludicrous, the - horrible succeed one another; or rather, in crowding tumult, accompany - one another. - </p> - - <p> - Here, accordingly, if anywhere, the “hundred tongues,” which the old - Poets often clamour for, were of supreme service! In defect of any such - organ on our part, let the Reader stir up his own imaginative organ: let - us snatch for him this or the other significant glimpse of things, in the - fittest sequence we can. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0139" id="link2HCH0139"></a> - Chapter 3.5.II.<br/> - Death. - </h3> - - <p> - In the early days of November, there is one transient glimpse of things - that is to be noted: the last transit to his long home of Philippe - d’Orléans Egalité. Philippe was “decreed accused,” along with the - Girondins, much to his and their surprise; but not tried along with them. - They are doomed and dead, some three days, when Philippe, after his long - half-year of durance at Marseilles, arrives in Paris. It is, as we - calculate, the third of November 1793. - </p> - - <p> - On which same day, two notable Female Prisoners are also put in ward - there: Dame Dubarry and Josephine Beauharnais! Dame whilom Countess - Dubarry, Unfortunate-female, had returned from London; they snatched her, - not only as Ex-harlot of a whilom Majesty, and therefore suspect; but as - having “furnished the Emigrants with money.” Contemporaneously with whom, - there comes the wife of Beauharnais, soon to be the widow: she that is - Josephine Tascher Beauharnais; that shall be Josephine Empress - Buonaparte, for a black Divineress of the Tropics prophesied long since - that she should be a Queen and more. Likewise, in the same hours, poor - Adam Lux, nigh turned in the head, who, according to Foster, “has taken - no food these three weeks,” marches to the Guillotine for his Pamphlet on - Charlotte Corday: he “sprang to the scaffold;” said he “died for her with - great joy.” Amid such fellow-travellers does Philippe arrive. For, be the - month named Brumaire year 2 of Liberty, or November year 1793 of Slavery, - the Guillotine goes always, <i>Guillotine va toujours</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Enough, Philippe’s indictment is soon drawn, his jury soon convinced. He - finds himself made guilty of Royalism, Conspiracy and much else; nay, it - is a guilt in him that he voted Louis’s Death, though he answers, ‘I - voted in my soul and conscience.’ The doom he finds is death forthwith; - this present sixth dim day of November is the last day that Philippe is - to see. Philippe, says Montgaillard, thereupon called for breakfast: - sufficiency of “oysters, two cutlets, best part of an excellent bottle of - claret;” and consumed the same with apparent relish. A Revolutionary - Judge, or some official Convention Emissary, then arrived, to signify - that he might still do the State some service by revealing the truth - about a plot or two. Philippe answered that, on him, in the pass things - had come to, the State had, he thought, small claim; that nevertheless, - in the interest of Liberty, he, having still some leisure on his hands, - was willing, were a reasonable question asked him, to give reasonable - answer. And so, says Montgaillard, he lent his elbow on the mantel-piece, - and conversed in an under-tone, with great seeming composure; till the - leisure was done, or the Emissary went his ways. - </p> - - <p> - At the door of the Conciergerie, Philippe’s attitude was erect and easy, - almost commanding. It is five years, all but a few days, since Philippe, - within these same stone walls, stood up with an air of graciosity, and - asked King Louis, ‘Whether it was a Royal Session, then, or a Bed of - Justice?’ O Heaven!—Three poor blackguards were to ride and die - with him: some say, they objected to such company, and had to be flung - in, neck and heels;<a href="#linknote-695" name="linknoteref-695" - id="linknoteref-695">[695]</a> but it seems not true. Objecting or not - objecting, the gallows-vehicle gets under way. Philippe’s dress is - remarked for its elegance; greenfrock, waistcoat of white <i>piqué</i>, - yellow buckskins, boots clear as Warren: his air, as before, entirely - composed, impassive, not to say easy and Brummellean-polite. Through - street after street; slowly, amid execrations;—past the Palais - Egalité whilom Palais-Royal! The cruel Populace stopped him there, some - minutes: Dame de Buffon, it is said, looked out on him, in Jezebel - head-tire; along the ashlar Wall, there ran these words in huge tricolor - print, REPUBLIC ONE AND INDIVISIBLE; LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY OR - DEATH: <i>National Property</i>. Philippe’s eyes flashed hellfire, one - instant; but the next instant it was gone, and he sat impassive, - Brummellean-polite. On the scaffold, Samson was for drawing of his boots: - ‘tush,’ said Philippe, ‘they will come better off <i>after;</i> let us - have done, <i>dépêchons-nous!</i>’ - </p> - - <p> - So Philippe was not without virtue, then? God forbid that there should be - any living man without it! He had the virtue to keep living for - five-and-forty years;—other virtues perhaps more than we know of. - Probably no mortal ever had such things recorded of him: such facts, and - also such lies. For he was a <i>Jacobin Prince of the Blood;</i> consider - what a combination! Also, unlike any Nero, any Borgia, he lived in the - Age of Pamphlets. Enough for us: Chaos <i>has</i> reabsorbed him; may it - late or never bear his like again!—Brave young Orleans Egalité, - deprived of all, only not deprived of himself, is gone to Coire in the - Grisons, under the name of Corby, to teach Mathematics. The Egalité - Family is at the darkest depths of the Nadir. - </p> - - <p> - A far nobler Victim follows; one who will claim remembrance from several - centuries: Jeanne-Marie Phlipon, the Wife of Roland. Queenly, sublime in - her uncomplaining sorrow, seemed she to Riouffe in her Prison. “Something - more than is usually found in the looks of women painted itself,” says - Riouffe,<a href="#linknote-696" name="linknoteref-696" - id="linknoteref-696">[696]</a> “in those large black eyes of hers, full - of expression and sweetness. She spoke to me often, at the Grate: we were - all attentive round her, in a sort of admiration and astonishment; she - expressed herself with a purity, with a harmony and prosody that made her - language like music, of which the ear could never have enough. Her - conversation was serious, not cold; coming from the mouth of a beautiful - woman, it was frank and courageous as that of a great men.” “And yet her - maid said: ‘Before you, she collects her strength; but in her own room, - she will sit three hours sometimes, leaning on the window, and weeping.’” - She had been in Prison, liberated once, but recaptured the same hour, - ever since the first of June: in agitation and uncertainty; which has - gradually settled down into the last stern certainty, that of death. In - the Abbaye Prison, she occupied Charlotte Corday’s apartment. Here in the - Conciergerie, she speaks with Riouffe, with Ex-Minister Clavière; calls - the beheaded Twenty-two ‘<i>Nos amis</i>, our Friends,’—whom we are - soon to follow. During these five months, those <i>Memoirs</i> of hers - were written, which all the world still reads. - </p> - - <p> - But now, on the 8th of November, “clad in white,” says Riouffe, “with her - long black hair hanging down to her girdle,” she is gone to the Judgment - Bar. She returned with a quick step; lifted her finger, to signify to us - that she was doomed: her eyes seemed to have been wet. - Fouquier-Tinville’s questions had been “brutal;” offended female honour - flung them back on him, with scorn, not without tears. And now, short - preparation soon done, she shall go her last road. There went with her a - certain Lamarche, “Director of Assignat printing;” whose dejection she - endeavoured to cheer. Arrived at the foot of the scaffold, she asked for - pen and paper, ‘to write the strange thoughts that were rising in her;’<a - href="#linknote-697" name="linknoteref-697" - id="linknoteref-697">[697]</a> a remarkable request; which was refused. - Looking at the Statue of Liberty which stands there, she says bitterly: - ‘O Liberty, what things are done in thy name!’ For Lamarche’s sake, she - will die first; shew him how easy it is to die: ‘Contrary to the order’ - said Samson.—‘Pshaw, you cannot refuse the last request of a Lady;’ - and Samson yielded. - </p> - - <p> - Noble white Vision, with its high queenly face, its soft proud eyes, long - black hair flowing down to the girdle; and as brave a heart as ever beat - in woman’s bosom! Like a white Grecian Statue, serenely complete, she - shines in that black wreck of things;—long memorable. Honour to - great Nature who, in Paris City, in the Era of Noble-Sentiment and - Pompadourism, can make a Jeanne Phlipon, and nourish her to clear - perennial Womanhood, though but on Logics, <i>Encyclopédies</i>, and the - Gospel according to Jean-Jacques! Biography will long remember that trait - of asking for a pen ‘to write the strange thoughts that were rising in - her.’ It is as a little light-beam, shedding softness, and a kind of - sacredness, over all that preceded: so in her too there was an - Unnameable; she too was a Daughter of the Infinite; there were mysteries - which Philosophism had not dreamt of!—She left long written - counsels to her little Girl; she said her Husband would not survive her. - </p> - - <p> - Still crueller was the fate of poor Bailly, First National President, - First Mayor of Paris: doomed now for Royalism, Fayettism; for that - Red-Flag Business of the Champ-de-Mars;—one may say in general, for - leaving his Astronomy to meddle with Revolution. It is the 10th of - November 1793, a cold bitter drizzling rain, as poor Bailly is led - through the streets; howling Populace covering him with curses, with mud; - waving over his face a burning or smoking mockery of a Red Flag. Silent, - unpitied, sits the innocent old man. Slow faring through the sleety - drizzle, they have got to the Champ-de-Mars: Not there! vociferates the - cursing Populace; Such blood ought not to stain an Altar of the - Fatherland; not there; but on that dungheap by the River-side! So - vociferates the cursing Populace; Officiality gives ear to them. The - Guillotine is taken down, though with hands numbed by the sleety drizzle; - is carried to the River-side, is there set up again, with slow numbness; - pulse after pulse still counting itself out in the old man’s weary heart. - For hours long; amid curses and bitter frost-rain! ‘Bailly, thou - tremblest,’ said one. ‘<i>Mon ami</i>, it is for cold,’ said Bailly, - ‘<i>c’est de froid</i>.’ Crueller end had no mortal.<a - href="#linknote-698" name="linknoteref-698" - id="linknoteref-698">[698]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Some days afterwards, Roland hearing the news of what happened on the - 8th, embraces his kind Friends at Rouen, leaves their kind house which - had given him refuge; goes forth, with farewell too sad for tears. On the - morrow morning, 16th of the month, “some four leagues from Rouen, - Paris-ward, near Bourg-Baudoin, in M. Normand’s Avenue,” there is seen - sitting leant against a tree, the figure of rigorous wrinkled man; stiff - now in the rigour of death; a cane-sword run through his heart; and at - his feet this writing: “Whoever thou art that findest me lying, respect - my remains: they are those of a man who consecrated all his life to being - useful; and who has died as he lived, virtuous and honest.” “Not fear, - but indignation, made me quit my retreat, on learning that my Wife had - been murdered. I wished not to remain longer on an Earth polluted with - crimes.”<a href="#linknote-699" name="linknoteref-699" - id="linknoteref-699">[699]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Barnave’s appearance at the Revolutionary Tribunal was of the bravest; - but it could not stead him. They have sent for him from Grenoble; to pay - the common smart, Vain is eloquence, forensic or other, against the dumb - Clotho-shears of Tinville. He is still but two-and-thirty, this Barnave, - and has known such changes. Short while ago, we saw him at the top of - Fortune’s Wheel, his word a law to all Patriots: and now surely he is at - the <i>bottom</i> of the Wheel; in stormful altercation with a Tinville - Tribunal, which is dooming him to die!<a href="#linknote-700" - name="linknoteref-700" id="linknoteref-700">[700]</a> And Pétion, once - also of the Extreme Left, and named <i>Pétion Virtue</i>, where is he? - Civilly dead; in the Caves of Saint-Emilion; to be devoured of dogs. And - Robespierre, who rode along with him on the shoulders of the people, is - in Committee of <i>Salut;</i> civilly alive: not to live always. So - giddy-swift whirls and spins this immeasurable <i>tormentum</i> of a - Revolution; wild-booming; not to be followed by the eye. Barnave, on the - Scaffold, stamped his foot; and looking upwards was heard to ejaculate, - ‘This then is my reward?’ - </p> - - <p> - Deputy Ex-Procureur Manuel is already gone; and Deputy Osselin, famed - also in August and September, is about to go: and Rabaut, discovered - treacherously between his two walls, and the Brother of Rabaut. National - Deputies not a few! And Generals: the memory of General Custine cannot be - defended by his Son; his Son is already guillotined. Custine the Ex-Noble - was replaced by Houchard the Plebeian: he too could not prosper in the - North; for him too there was no mercy; he has perished in the Place de la - Revolution, after attempting suicide in Prison. And Generals Biron, - Beauharnais, Brunet, whatsoever General prospers not; tough old Lückner, - with his eyes grown rheumy; Alsatian Westermann, valiant and diligent in - La Vendée: <i>none of them can</i>, as the Psalmist sings, <i>his soul - from death deliver</i>. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - How busy are the Revolutionary Committees; Sections with their Forty - Halfpence a-day! Arrestment on arrestment falls quick, continual; - followed by death. Ex-Minister Clavière has killed himself in Prison. - Ex-Minister Lebrun, seized in a hayloft, under the disguise of a working - man, is instantly conducted to death.<a href="#linknote-701" - name="linknoteref-701" id="linknoteref-701">[701]</a> Nay, withal, is it - not what Barrère calls “coining money on the Place de la Révolution?” For - always the “property of the guilty, if property he have,” is confiscated. - To avoid accidents, we even make a Law that suicide shall not defraud us; - that a criminal who kills himself does not the less incur forfeiture of - goods. Let the guilty tremble, therefore, and the suspect, and the rich, - and in a word all manner of culottic men! Luxembourg Palace, once - Monsieur’s, has become a huge loathsome Prison; Chantilly Palace too, - once Condé’s:—and their Landlords are at Blankenberg, on the wrong - side of the Rhine. In Paris are now some Twelve Prisons; in France some - Forty-four Thousand: thitherward, thick as brown leaves in Autumn, rustle - and travel the suspect; shaken down by Revolutionary Committees, they are - swept thitherward, as into their storehouse,—to be consumed by - Samson and Tinville. “The Guillotine goes not ill, <i> La Guillotine ne - va pas mal</i>.” - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0140" id="link2HCH0140"></a> - Chapter 3.5.III.<br/> - Destruction. - </h3> - - <p> - The suspect may well tremble; but how much more the open - rebels;—the Girondin Cities of the South! Revolutionary Army is - gone forth, under Ronsin the Playwright; six thousand strong; in “red - nightcap, in tricolor waistcoat, in black-shag trousers, black-shag - spencer, with enormous moustachioes, enormous sabre,—in - <i>carmagnole complète;</i>”<a href="#linknote-702" - name="linknoteref-702" id="linknoteref-702">[702]</a> and has portable - guillotines. Representative Carrier has got to Nantes, by the edge of - blazing La Vendée, which Rossignol has literally set on fire: Carrier - will try what captives you make, what accomplices they have, Royalist or - Girondin: his guillotine goes always, <i>va toujours;</i> and his - wool-capped “Company of Marat.” Little children are guillotined, and aged - men. Swift as the machine is, it will not serve; the Headsman and all his - valets sink, worn down with work; declare that the human muscles can no - more.<a href="#linknote-703" name="linknoteref-703" - id="linknoteref-703">[703]</a> Whereupon you must try fusillading; to - which perhaps still frightfuller methods may succeed. - </p> - - <p> - In Brest, to like purpose, rules Jean-Bon Saint-André; with an Army of - Red Nightcaps. In Bourdeaux rules Tallien, with his Isabeau and henchmen: - Guadets, Cussys, Salleses, may fall; the bloody Pike and Nightcap bearing - supreme sway; the Guillotine coining money. Bristly fox-haired Tallien, - once Able Editor, still young in years, is now become most gloomy, - potent; a Pluto on Earth, and has the keys of Tartarus. One remarks, - however, that a certain Senhorina Cabarus, or call her rather - <i>Senhora</i> and wedded not yet widowed <i>Dame de Fontenai</i>, brown - beautiful woman, daughter of Cabarus the Spanish merchant,—has - softened the red bristly countenance; pleading for herself and friends; - and prevailing. The keys of Tartarus, or any kind of power, are something - to a woman; gloomy Pluto himself is not insensible to love. Like a new - Proserpine, she, by this red gloomy Dis, is gathered; and, they say, - softens his stone heart a little. - </p> - - <p> - Maignet, at Orange in the South; Lebon, at Arras in the North, become - world’s wonders. Jacobin Popular Tribunal, with its National - Representative, perhaps where Girondin Popular Tribunal had lately been, - rises here and rises there; wheresoever needed. Fouchés, Maignets, - Barrases, Frérons scour the Southern Departments; like reapers, with - their guillotine-sickle. Many are the labourers, great is the harvest. By - the hundred and the thousand, men’s lives are cropt; cast like brands - into the burning. - </p> - - <p> - Marseilles is taken, and put under martial law: lo, at Marseilles, what - one besmutted red-bearded corn-ear is this which they cut;—one - gross Man, we mean, with copper-studded face; plenteous beard, or - beard-stubble, of a tile-colour? By Nemesis and the Fatal Sisters, it is - Jourdan Coupe-tête! Him they have clutched, in these martial-law - districts; him too, with their “national razor,” their <i>rasoir - national</i>, they sternly shave away. Low now is Jourdan the Headsman’s - own head;—low as Deshuttes’s and Varigny’s, which he sent on pikes, - in the Insurrection of Women! No more shall he, as a copper Portent, be - seen gyrating through the Cities of the South; no more sit judging, with - pipes and brandy, in the Ice-tower of Avignon. The all-hiding Earth has - received him, the bloated Tilebeard: may we never look upon his like - again!—Jourdan one names; the other Hundreds are not named. Alas, - they, like confused faggots, lie massed together for us; counted by the - cartload: and yet not an individual faggot-twig of them but had a Life - and History; and was cut, not without pangs as when a Kaiser dies! - </p> - - <p> - Least of all cities can Lyons escape. Lyons, which we saw in dread - sunblaze, that Autumn night when the Powder-tower sprang aloft, was - clearly verging towards a sad end. Inevitable: what could desperate - valour and Précy do; Dubois-Crancé, deaf as Destiny, stern as Doom, - capturing their “redouts of cotton-bags;” hemming them in, ever closer, - with his Artillery-lava? Never would that <i>ci-devant</i> d’Autichamp - arrive; never any help from Blankenberg. The Lyons Jacobins were hidden - in cellars; the Girondin Municipality waxed pale, in famine, treason and - red fire. Précy drew his sword, and some Fifteen Hundred with him; sprang - to saddle, to cut their way to Switzerland. They cut fiercely; and were - fiercely cut, and cut down; not hundreds, hardly units of them ever saw - Switzerland.<a href="#linknote-704" name="linknoteref-704" - id="linknoteref-704">[704]</a> Lyons, on the 9th of October, surrenders - at discretion; it is become a devoted Town. Abbé Lamourette, now Bishop - Lamourette, whilom Legislator, he of the old <i>Baiser-l’Amourette</i> or - Delilah-Kiss, is seized here, is sent to Paris to be guillotined: “he - made the sign of the cross,” they say when Tinville intimated his - death-sentence to him; and died as an eloquent Constitutional Bishop. But - wo now to all Bishops, Priests, Aristocrats and Federalists that are in - Lyons! The <i>manes</i> of Chalier are to be appeased; the Republic, - maddened to the Sibylline pitch, has bared her right arm. Behold! - Representative Fouché, it is Fouché of Nantes, a name to become well - known; he with a Patriot company goes duly, in wondrous Procession, to - raise the corpse of Chalier. An Ass, housed in Priest’s cloak, with a - mitre on its head, and trailing the Mass-Books, some say the very Bible, - at its tail, paces through Lyons streets; escorted by multitudinous - Patriotism, by clangour as of the Pit; towards the grave of Martyr - Chalier. The body is dug up and burnt: the ashes are collected in an Urn; - to be worshipped of Paris Patriotism. The Holy Books were part of the - funeral pile; their ashes are scattered to the wind. Amid cries of - ‘Vengeance! Vengeance!’—which, writes Fouché, shall be satisfied.<a - href="#linknote-705" name="linknoteref-705" - id="linknoteref-705">[705]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Lyons in fact is a Town to be abolished; not Lyons henceforth but - “<i>Commune Affranchie</i>, Township Freed;” the very name of it shall - perish. It is to be razed, this once great City, if Jacobinism prophesy - right; and a Pillar to be erected on the ruins, with this Inscription, - <i>Lyons rebelled against the Republic; Lyons is no more</i>. Fouché, - Couthon, Collot, Convention Representatives succeed one another: there is - work for the hangman; work for the hammerman, <i>not</i> in building. The - very Houses of Aristocrats, we say, are doomed. Paralytic Couthon, borne - in a chair, taps on the wall, with emblematic mallet, saying, ‘<i>La Loi - te frappe</i>, The Law strikes thee;’ masons, with wedge and crowbar, - begin demolition. Crash of downfall, dim ruin and dust-clouds fly in the - winter wind. Had Lyons been of soft stuff, it had all vanished in those - weeks, and the Jacobin prophecy had been fulfilled. But Towns are not - built of soap-froth; Lyons Town is built of stone. Lyons, though it - rebelled against the Republic, <i>is</i> to this day. - </p> - - <p> - Neither have the Lyons Girondins all one neck, that you could despatch it - at one swoop. Revolutionary Tribunal here, and Military Commission, - guillotining, fusillading, do what they can: the kennels of the Place des - Terreaux run red; mangled corpses roll down the Rhone. Collot d’Herbois, - they say, was once hissed on the Lyons stage: but with what sibilation, - of world-catcall or hoarse Tartarean Trumpet, will ye hiss him now, in - this his new character of Convention Representative,—not to be - repeated! Two hundred and nine men are marched forth over the River, to - be shot in mass, by musket and cannon, in the Promenade of the Brotteaux. - It is the second of such scenes; the first was of some Seventy. The - corpses of the first were flung into the Rhone, but the Rhone stranded - some; so these now, of the second lot, are to be buried on land. Their - one long grave is dug; they stand ranked, by the loose mould-ridge; the - younger of them singing the Marseillaise. Jacobin National Guards give - fire; but have again to give fire, and again; and to take the bayonet and - the spade, for though the doomed all fall, they do not all die;—and - it becomes a butchery too horrible for speech. So that the very - Nationals, as they fire, turn away their faces. Collot, snatching the - musket from one such National, and levelling it with unmoved countenance, - says ‘It is thus a Republican ought to fire.’ - </p> - - <p> - This is the second Fusillade, and happily the last: it is found too - hideous; even inconvenient. They were Two hundred and nine marched out; - one escaped at the end of the Bridge: yet behold, when you count the - corpses, they are Two hundred and <i>ten</i>. Rede us this riddle, O - Collot? After long guessing, it is called to mind that two individuals, - here in the Brotteaux ground, did attempt to leave the rank, protesting - with agony that they were not condemned men, that they were Police - Commissaries: which two we repulsed, and disbelieved, and shot with the - rest!<a href="#linknote-706" name="linknoteref-706" - id="linknoteref-706">[706]</a> Such is the vengeance of an enraged - Republic. Surely this, according to Barrère’s phrase, is Justice “under - rough forms, <i>sous des formes acerbes</i>.” But the Republic, as Fouché - says, must ‘march to Liberty over corpses.’ Or again as Barrère has it: - ‘None but the dead do not come back, <i>Il n’y a que les morts qui ne - reviennent pas</i>.’ Terror hovers far and wide: “The Guillotine goes not - ill.” - </p> - - <p> - But before quitting those Southern regions, over which History can cast - only glances from aloft, she will alight for a moment, and look fixedly - at one point: the Siege of Toulon. Much battering and bombarding, heating - of balls in furnaces or farm-houses, serving of artillery well and ill, - attacking of Ollioules Passes, Forts Malbosquet, there has been: as yet - to small purpose. We have had General Cartaux here, a whilom Painter - elevated in the troubles of Marseilles; General Doppet, a whilom Medical - man elevated in the troubles of Piemont, who, under Crancé, took Lyons, - but cannot take Toulon. Finally we have General Dugommier, a pupil of - Washington. Convention <i>Représentans</i> also we have had; Barrases, - Salicettis, Robespierres the Younger:—also an Artillery <i>Chef de - brigade</i>, of extreme diligence, who often takes his nap of sleep among - the guns; a short taciturn, olive-complexioned young man, not unknown to - us, by name Buonaparte: one of the best Artillery-officers yet met with. - And still Toulon is not taken. It is the fourth month now; December, in - slave-style; <i>Frostarious</i> or <i>Frimaire</i>, in new-style: and - still their cursed Red-Blue Flag flies there. They are provisioned from - the Sea; they have seized all heights, felling wood, and fortifying - themselves; like the coney, they have built their nest in the rocks. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, <i>Frostarious</i> is not yet become <i>Snowous</i> or - <i>Nivose</i>, when a Council of War is called; Instructions have just - arrived from Government and <i>Salut Public</i>. Carnot, in <i>Salut - Public</i>, has sent us a plan of siege: on which plan General Dugommier - has this criticism to make, Commissioner Salicetti has that; and - criticisms and plans are very various; when that young Artillery Officer - ventures to speak; the same whom we saw snatching sleep among the guns, - who has emerged several times in this History,—the name of him - Napoleon Buonaparte. It is his humble opinion, for he has been gliding - about with spy-glasses, with thoughts, That a certain Fort l’Eguillette - can be clutched, as with lion-spring, on the sudden; wherefrom, were it - once ours, the very heart of Toulon might be battered, the English Lines - were, so to speak, turned inside out, and Hood and our Natural Enemies - must next day either put to sea, or be burnt to ashes. Commissioners arch - their eyebrows, with negatory sniff: who is this young gentleman with - more wit than we all? Brave veteran Dugommier, however, thinks the idea - worth a word; questions the young gentleman; becomes convinced; and there - is for issue, Try it. - </p> - - <p> - On the taciturn bronze-countenance, therefore, things being now all - ready, there sits a grimmer gravity than ever, compressing a hotter - central-fire than ever. Yonder, thou seest, is Fort l’Eguillette; a - desperate lion-spring, yet a possible one; this day to be - tried!—Tried it is; and found <i>good</i>. By stratagem and valour, - stealing through ravines, plunging fiery through the fire-tempest, Fort - l’Eguillette is clutched at, is carried; the smoke having cleared, wiser - the Tricolor fly on it: the bronze-complexioned young man was right. Next - morning, Hood, finding the interior of his lines exposed, his defences - turned inside out, makes for his shipping. Taking such Royalists as - wished it on board with him, he weighs anchor: on this 19th of December - 1793, Toulon is once more the Republic’s! - </p> - - <p> - Cannonading has ceased at Toulon; and now the guillotining and - fusillading may begin. Civil horrors, truly: but at least that infamy of - an English domination is purged away. Let there be Civic Feast - universally over France: so reports Barrère, or Painter David; and the - Convention assist in a body.<a href="#linknote-707" - name="linknoteref-707" id="linknoteref-707">[707]</a> Nay, it is said, - these infamous English (with an attention rather to their own interests - than to ours) set fire to our store-houses, arsenals, warships in Toulon - Harbour, before weighing; some score of brave warships, the only ones we - now had! However, it did not prosper, though the flame spread far and - high; some two ships were burnt, not more; the very galley-slaves ran - with buckets to quench. These same proud Ships, Ships <i>l’Orient</i> and - the rest, have to carry this same young Man to Egypt first: not yet can - they be changed to ashes, or to Sea-Nymphs; not yet to sky-rockets, O - Ship <i>l’Orient</i>, nor became the prey of England,—before their - time! - </p> - - <p> - And so, over France universally, there is Civic Feast and high-tide: and - Toulon sees fusillading, grape-shotting in mass, as Lyons saw; and “death - is poured out in great floods, <i>vomie à grands flots</i>” and Twelve - thousand Masons are requisitioned from the neighbouring country, to raze - Toulon from the face of the Earth. For it is to be razed, so reports - Barrère; all but the National Shipping Establishments; and to be called - henceforth not Toulon, but <i>Port of the Mountain</i>. There in black - death-cloud we must leave it;—hoping only that Toulon too is built - of stone; that perhaps even Twelve thousand Masons cannot pull it down, - till the fit pass. - </p> - - <p> - One begins to be sick of “death vomited in great floods.” Nevertheless - hearest thou not, O reader (for the sound reaches through centuries), in - the dead December and January nights, over Nantes Town,—confused - noises, as of musketry and tumult, as of rage and lamentation; mingling - with the everlasting moan of the Loire waters there? Nantes Town is sunk - in sleep; but <i>Représentant</i> Carrier is not sleeping, the - wool-capped Company of Marat is not sleeping. Why unmoors that - flatbottomed craft, that <i>gabarre;</i> about eleven at night; with - Ninety Priests under hatches? They are going to Belle Isle? In the middle - of the Loire stream, on signal given, the gabarre is scuttled; she sinks - with all her cargo. “Sentence of Deportation,” writes Carrier, “was - executed <i>vertically</i>.” The Ninety Priests, with their - gabarre-coffin, lie deep! It is the first of the <i>Noyades</i>, what we - may call <i>Drownages</i>, of Carrier; which have become famous forever. - </p> - - <p> - Guillotining there was at Nantes, till the Headsman sank worn out: then - fusillading “in the Plain of Saint-Mauve;” little children fusilladed, - and women with children at the breast; children and women, by the hundred - and twenty; and by the five hundred, so hot is La Vendée: till the very - Jacobins grew sick, and all but the Company of Marat cried, Hold! - Wherefore now we have got Noyading; and on the 24th night of - <i>Frostarious</i> year 2, which is 14th of December 1793, we have a - second Noyade: consisting of “a Hundred and Thirty-eight persons.”<a - href="#linknote-708" name="linknoteref-708" - id="linknoteref-708">[708]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or why waste a gabarre, sinking it with them? Fling them out; fling them - out, with their hands tied: pour a continual hail of lead over all the - space, till the last struggler of them be sunk! Unsound sleepers of - Nantes, and the Sea-Villages thereabouts, hear the musketry amid the - night-winds; wonder what the meaning of it is. And women were in that - gabarre; whom the Red Nightcaps were stripping naked; who begged, in - their agony, that their smocks might not be stript from them. And young - children were thrown in, their mothers vainly pleading: ‘Wolflings,’ - answered the Company of Marat, ‘who would grow to be wolves.’ - </p> - - <p> - By degrees, daylight itself witnesses Noyades: women and men are tied - together, feet and feet, hands and hands: and flung in: this they call - <i>Mariage Républicain</i>, Republican Marriage. Cruel is the panther of - the woods, the she-bear bereaved of her whelps: but there is in man a - hatred crueller than that. Dumb, out of suffering now, as pale swoln - corpses, the victims tumble confusedly seaward along the Loire stream; - the tide rolling them back: clouds of ravens darken the River; wolves - prowl on the shoal-places: Carrier writes, “<i>Quel torrent - révolutionnaire</i>, What a torrent of Revolution!” For the man is rabid; - and the Time is rabid. These are the Noyades of Carrier; twenty-five by - the tale, for what is done in darkness comes to be investigated in - sunlight:<a href="#linknote-709" name="linknoteref-709" - id="linknoteref-709">[709]</a> not to be forgotten for - centuries,—We will turn to another aspect of the Consummation of - Sansculottism; leaving this as the blackest. - </p> - - <p> - But indeed men are all rabid; as the Time is. Representative Lebon, at - Arras, dashes his sword into the blood flowing from the Guillotine; - exclaims, ‘How I like it!’ Mothers, they say, by his order, have to stand - by while the Guillotine devours their children: a band of music is - stationed near; and, at the fall of every head, strikes up its - <i>ça-ira</i>.<a href="#linknote-710" name="linknoteref-710" - id="linknoteref-710">[710]</a> In the Burgh of Bedouin, in the Orange - region, the Liberty-tree has been cut down over night. Representative - Maignet, at Orange, hears of it; burns Bedouin Burgh to the last - dog-hutch; guillotines the inhabitants, or drives them into the caves and - hills.<a href="#linknote-711" name="linknoteref-711" - id="linknoteref-711">[711]</a> Republic One and Indivisible! She is the - newest Birth of Nature’s waste inorganic Deep, which men name Orcus, - Chaos, primeval Night; and knows one law, that of self-preservation. - <i>Tigresse Nationale:</i> meddle not with a whisker of her! - Swift-crushing is her stroke; look what a paw she spreads;—pity has - not entered her heart. - </p> - - <p> - Prudhomme, the dull-blustering Printer and Able Editor, as yet a Jacobin - Editor, will become a renegade one, and publish large volumes on these - matters, <i>Crimes of the Revolution;</i> adding innumerable lies withal, - as if the truth were not sufficient. We, for our part, find it more - edifying to know, one good time, that this Republic and National Tigress - <i>is</i> a New Birth; a Fact of Nature among Formulas, in an Age of - Formulas; and to look, oftenest in silence, how the so genuine - Nature-Fact will demean itself among these. For the Formulas are partly - genuine, partly delusive, supposititious: we call them, in the language - of metaphor, regulated modelled <i>shapes;</i> some of which have bodies - and life still in them; most of which, according to a German Writer, have - only emptiness, “glass-eyes glaring on you with a ghastly affectation of - life, and in their interior unclean accumulation of beetles and spiders!” - But the Fact, let all men observe, is a genuine and sincere one; the - sincerest of Facts: terrible in its sincerity, as very Death. Whatsoever - is equally sincere may front it, and beard it; but whatsoever is - <i>not?</i>— - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0141" id="link2HCH0141"></a> - Chapter 3.5.IV.<br/> - Carmagnole complete. - </h3> - - <p> - Simultaneously with this Tophet-black aspect, there unfolds itself - another aspect, which one may call a Tophet-red aspect: the Destruction - of the Catholic Religion; and indeed, for the time being of Religion - itself. We saw Romme’s New Calendar establish its <i>Tenth</i> Day of - Rest; and asked, what would become of the Christian Sabbath? The Calendar - is hardly a month old, till all this is set at rest. Very singular, as - Mercier observes: last <i>Corpus-Christi</i> Day 1792, the whole world, - and Sovereign Authority itself, walked in religious gala, with a quite - devout air;—Butcher Legendre, supposed to be irreverent, was like - to be massacred in his Gig, as the thing went by. A Gallican Hierarchy, - and Church, and Church Formulas seemed to flourish, a little brown-leaved - or so, but not browner than of late years or decades; to flourish, far - and wide, in the sympathies of an unsophisticated People; defying - Philosophism, Legislature and the Encyclopédie. Far and wide, alas, like - a brown-leaved Vallombrosa; which waits but one whirlblast of the - November wind, and in an hour stands bare! Since that - <i>Corpus-Christi</i> Day, Brunswick has come, and the Emigrants, and La - Vendée, and eighteen months of Time: to all flourishing, especially to - brown-leaved flourishing, there comes, were it never so slowly, an end. - </p> - - <p> - On the 7th of November, a certain Citoyen Parens, Curate of - Boissise-le-Bertrand, writes to the Convention that he has all his life - been preaching a lie, and is grown weary of doing it; wherefore he will - now lay down his Curacy and stipend, and begs that an august Convention - would give him something else to live upon. “<i>Mention honorable</i>,” - shall we give him? Or “reference to Committee of Finances?” Hardly is - this got decided, when goose Gobel, Constitutional Bishop of Paris, with - his Chapter, with Municipal and Departmental escort in red nightcaps, - makes his appearance, to do as Parens has done. Goose Gobel will now - acknowledge “no Religion but Liberty;” therefore he doffs his - Priest-gear, and receives the Fraternal embrace. To the joy of - Departmental Momoro, of Municipal Chaumettes and Héberts, of Vincent and - the Revolutionary Army! Chaumette asks, Ought there not, in these - circumstances, to be among our intercalary Days Sans-breeches, a Feast of - Reason?<a href="#linknote-712" name="linknoteref-712" - id="linknoteref-712">[712]</a> Proper surely! Let Atheist Maréchal, - Lalande, and little Atheist Naigeon rejoice; let Clootz, Speaker of - Mankind, present to the Convention his <i>Evidences of the Mahometan - Religion</i>, “a work evincing the nullity of all Religions,”—with - thanks. There shall be Universal Republic now, thinks Clootz; and “one - God only, <i>Le Peuple</i>.” - </p> - - <p> - The French Nation is of gregarious imitative nature; it needed but a - fugle-motion in this matter; and goose Gobel, driven by Municipality and - force of circumstances, has given one. What Curé will be behind him of - Boissise; what Bishop behind him of Paris? Bishop Grégoire, indeed, - courageously declines; to the sound of ‘We force no one; let Grégoire - consult his conscience;’ but Protestant and Romish by the hundred - volunteer and assent. From far and near, all through November into - December, till the work is accomplished, come Letters of renegation, come - Curates who are “learning to be Carpenters,” Curates with their - new-wedded Nuns: has not the Day of Reason dawned, very swiftly, and - become noon? From sequestered Townships comes Addresses, stating plainly, - though in Patois dialect, That “they will have no more to do with the - black animal called Curay, <i>animal noir, appellé Curay</i>.”<a - href="#linknote-713" name="linknoteref-713" - id="linknoteref-713">[713]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Above all things there come Patriotic Gifts, of Church-furniture. The - remnant of bells, except for tocsin, descend from their belfries, into - the National meltingpot, to make cannon. Censers and all sacred vessels - are beaten broad; of silver, they are fit for the poverty-stricken Mint; - of pewter, let them become bullets to shoot the “enemies of <i>du genre - humain</i>.” Dalmatics of plush make breeches for him who has none; linen - stoles will clip into shirts for the Defenders of the Country: - old-clothesmen, Jew or Heathen, drive the briskest trade. Chalier’s Ass - Procession, at Lyons, was but a type of what went on, in those same days, - in all Towns. In all Towns and Townships as quick as the guillotine may - go, so quick goes the axe and the wrench: sacristies, lutrins, - altar-rails are pulled down; the Mass Books torn into cartridge papers: - men dance the Carmagnole all night about the bonfire. All highways jingle - with metallic Priest-tackle, beaten broad; sent to the Convention, to the - poverty-stricken Mint. Good Sainte Geneviève’s <i>Chasse</i> is let down: - alas, to be burst open, this time, and burnt on the Place de Grève. Saint - Louis’s shirt is burnt;—might not a Defender of the Country have - had it? At Saint-Denis Town, no longer Saint-Denis but <i>Franciade</i>, - Patriotism has been down among the Tombs, rummaging; the Revolutionary - Army has taken spoil. This, accordingly, is what the streets of Paris - saw: - </p> - - <p> - “Most of these persons were still drunk, with the brandy they had - swallowed out of chalices;—eating mackerel on the patenas! Mounted - on Asses, which were housed with Priests’ cloaks, they reined them with - Priests’ stoles: they held clutched with the same hand communion-cup and - sacred wafer. They stopped at the doors of Dramshops; held out ciboriums: - and the landlord, stoop in hand, had to fill them thrice. Next came Mules - high-laden with crosses, chandeliers, censers, holy-water vessels, - hyssops;—recalling to mind the Priests of Cybele, whose panniers, - filled with the instruments of their worship, served at once as - storehouse, sacristy and temple. In such equipage did these profaners - advance towards the Convention. They enter there, in an immense train, - ranged in two rows; all masked like mummers in fantastic sacerdotal - vestments; bearing on hand-barrows their heaped plunder,—ciboriums, - suns, candelabras, plates of gold and silver.”<a href="#linknote-714" - name="linknoteref-714" id="linknoteref-714">[714]</a> - </p> - - <p> - The Address we do not give; for indeed it was in strophes, sung <i>vivâ - voce</i>, with all the parts;—Danton glooming considerably, in his - place; and demanding that there be prose and decency in future.<a - href="#linknote-715" name="linknoteref-715" - id="linknoteref-715">[715]</a> Nevertheless the captors of such <i>spolia - opima</i> crave, not untouched with liquor, permission to dance the - Carmagnole also on the spot: whereto an exhilarated Convention cannot but - accede. Nay, “several Members,” continues the exaggerative Mercier, who - was not there to witness, being in Limbo now, as one of Duperret’s - <i>Seventy-three</i>, “several Members, quitting their curule chairs, - took the hand of girls flaunting in Priest’s vestures, and danced the - Carmagnole along with them.” Such Old-Hallow-tide have they, in this - year, once named of Grace, 1793. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Out of which strange fall of Formulas, tumbling there in confused welter, - betrampled by the Patriotic dance, is it not passing strange to see a - <i>new</i> Formula arise? For the human tongue is not adequate to speak - what “triviality run distracted” there is in human nature. Black - Mumbo-Jumbo of the woods, and most Indian Wau-waus, one can understand: - but this of Procureur <i>Anaxagoras</i> whilom John-Peter Chaumette? We - will say only: Man is a born idol-worshipper, <i>sight</i>-worshipper, so - sensuous-imaginative is he; and also partakes much of the nature of the - ape. - </p> - - <p> - For the same day, while this brave Carmagnole dance has hardly jigged - itself out, there arrive Procureur Chaumette and Municipals and - Departmentals, and with them the strangest freightage: a New Religion! - Demoiselle Candeille, of the Opera; a woman fair to look upon, when well - rouged: she, borne on palanquin shoulder-high; with red woolen nightcap; - in azure mantle; garlanded with oak; holding in her hand the Pike of the - Jupiter-<i>Peuple</i>, sails in; heralded by white young women girt in - tricolor. Let the world consider it! This, O National Convention wonder - of the universe, is our New Divinity; <i>Goddess of Reason</i>, worthy, - and alone worthy of revering. Nay, were it too much to ask of an august - National Representation that it also went with us to the <i>ci-devant</i> - Cathedral called of Notre-Dame, and executed a few strophes in worship of - her? - </p> - - <p> - President and Secretaries give Goddess Candeille, borne at due height - round their platform, successively the fraternal kiss; whereupon she, by - decree, sails to the right-hand of the President and there alights. And - now, after due pause and flourishes of oratory, the Convention, gathering - its limbs, does get under way in the required procession towards - Notre-Dame;—Reason, again in her litter, sitting in the van of - them, borne, as one judges, by men in the Roman costume; escorted by - wind-music, red nightcaps, and the madness of the world. And so - straightway, Reason taking seat on the high-altar of Notre-Dame, the - requisite worship or quasi-worship is, say the Newspapers, - <i>executed;</i> National Convention chanting “the <i>Hymn to - Liberty</i>, words by Chénier, music by Gossec.” It is the first of the - <i>Feasts of Reason;</i> first communion-service of the New Religion of - Chaumette. - </p> - - <p> - “The corresponding Festival in the Church of Saint-Eustache,” says - Mercier, “offered the spectacle of a great tavern. The interior of the - choir represented a landscape decorated with cottages and boskets of - trees. Round the choir stood tables over-loaded with bottles, with - sausages, pork-puddings, pastries and other meats. The guests flowed in - and out through all doors: whosoever presented himself took part of the - good things: children of eight, girls as well as boys, put hand to plate, - in sign of Liberty; they drank also of the bottles, and their prompt - intoxication created laughter. Reason sat in azure mantle aloft, in a - serene manner; Cannoneers, pipe in mouth, serving her as acolytes. And - out of doors,” continues the exaggerative man, “were mad multitudes - dancing round the bonfire of Chapel-balustrades, of Priests’ and Canons’ - stalls; and the dancers, I exaggerate nothing, the dancers nigh bare of - breeches, neck and breast naked, stockings down, went whirling and - spinning, like those Dust-vortexes, forerunners of Tempest and - Destruction.”<a href="#linknote-716" name="linknoteref-716" - id="linknoteref-716">[716]</a> At Saint-Gervais Church again there was a - terrible “smell of herrings;” Section or Municipality having provided no - food, no condiment, but left it to chance. Other mysteries, seemingly of - a Cabiric or even Paphian character, we heave under the Veil, which - appropriately stretches itself “along the pillars of the - aisles,”—not to be lifted aside by the hand of History. - </p> - - <p> - But there is one thing we should like almost better to understand than - any other: what Reason herself thought of it, all the while. What - articulate words poor Mrs. Momoro, for example, uttered; when she had - become ungoddessed again, and the Bibliopolist and she sat quiet at home, - at supper? For he was an earnest man, Bookseller Momoro; and had notions - of Agrarian Law. Mrs. Momoro, it is admitted, made one of the best - Goddesses of Reason; though her teeth were a little defective. And now if - the reader will represent to himself that such visible Adoration of - Reason went on “all over the Republic,” through these November and - December weeks, till the Church woodwork was burnt out, and the business - otherwise completed, he will feel sufficiently what an adoring Republic - it was, and without reluctance quit this part of the subject. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Such gifts of Church-spoil are chiefly the work of the <i>Armée - Révolutionnaire;</i> raised, as we said, some time ago. It is an Army - with portable guillotine: commanded by Playwright Ronsin in terrible - moustachioes; and even by some uncertain shadow of Usher Maillard, the - old Bastille Hero, Leader of the Menads, September Man in Grey! Clerk - Vincent of the War-Office, one of Pache’s old Clerks, “with a head heated - by the ancient orators,” had a main hand in the appointments, at least in - the staff-appointments. - </p> - - <p> - But of the marchings and retreatings of these Six Thousand no Xenophon - exists. Nothing, but an inarticulate hum, of cursing and sooty frenzy, - surviving dubious in the memory of ages! They scour the country round - Paris; seeking Prisoners; raising Requisitions; seeing that Edicts are - executed, that the Farmers have thrashed sufficiently; lowering - Church-bells or metallic Virgins. Detachments shoot forth dim, towards - remote parts of France; nay new Provincial Revolutionary Armies rise dim, - here and there, as Carrier’s Company of Marat, as Tallien’s Bourdeaux - Troop; like sympathetic clouds in an atmosphere all electric. Ronsin, - they say, admitted, in candid moments, that his troops were the elixir of - the Rascality of the Earth. One sees them drawn up in market-places; - travel-plashed, rough-bearded, in <i>carmagnole complète:</i> the first - exploit is to prostrate what Royal or Ecclesiastical monument, crucifix - or the like, there may be; to plant a cannon at the steeple, fetch down - the bell without climbing for it, bell and belfry together. This, - however, it is said, depends somewhat on the size of the town: if the - town contains much population, and these perhaps of a dubious choleric - aspect, the Revolutionary Army will do its work gently, by ladder and - wrench; nay perhaps will take its billet without work at all; and, - refreshing itself with a little liquor and sleep, pass on to the next - stage.<a href="#linknote-717" name="linknoteref-717" - id="linknoteref-717">[717]</a> Pipe in cheek, sabre on thigh; in - carmagnole complete! - </p> - - <p> - Such things have been; and may again be. Charles Second sent out his - Highland Host over the Western Scotch Whigs; Jamaica Planters got Dogs - from the Spanish Main to hunt their Maroons with: France too is bescoured - with a Devil’s Pack, the baying of which, at this distance of half a - century, still sounds in the mind’s ear. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0142" id="link2HCH0142"></a> - Chapter 3.5.V.<br/> - Like a Thunder-Cloud. - </h3> - - <p> - But the grand, and indeed substantially primary and generic aspect of the - Consummation of Terror remains still to be looked at; nay blinkard - History has for most part all but <i>over</i>looked this aspect, the soul - of the whole: that which makes it terrible to the Enemies of France. Let - Despotism and Cimmerian Coalitions consider. All French men and French - things are in a State of Requisition; Fourteen Armies are got on foot; - Patriotism, with all that it has of faculty in heart or in head, in soul - or body or breeches-pocket, is rushing to the frontiers, to prevail or - die! Busy sits Carnot, in <i>Salut Public;</i> busy for his share, in - “organising victory.” Not swifter pulses that Guillotine, in dread - systole-diastole in the Place de la Révolution, than smites the Sword of - Patriotism, smiting Cimmeria back to its own borders, from the sacred - soil. - </p> - - <p> - In fact the Government is what we can call Revolutionary; and some men - are “<i>à la hauteur</i>,” on a level with the circumstances; and others - are not <i>à la hauteur</i>,—so much the worse for them. But the - Anarchy, we may say, has <i>organised</i> itself: Society is literally - overset; its old forces working with mad activity, but in the inverse - order; destructive and self-destructive. - </p> - - <p> - Curious to see how all still refers itself to some head and fountain; not - even an Anarchy but must have a centre to revolve round. It is now some - six months since the Committee of <i>Salut Public</i> came into - existence: some three months since Danton proposed that all power should - be given it and “a sum of fifty millions,” and the “Government be - declared Revolutionary.” He himself, since that day, would take no hand - in it, though again and again solicited; but sits private in his place on - the Mountain. Since that day, the Nine, or if they should even rise to - Twelve have become permanent, always re-elected when their term runs out; - <i>Salut Public, Sûreté Générale</i> have assumed their ulterior form and - mode of operating. - </p> - - <p> - Committee of Public Salvation, as supreme; of General Surety, as - subaltern: these like a Lesser and Greater Council, most harmonious - hitherto, have become the centre of all things. They ride this Whirlwind; - they, raised by force of circumstances, insensibly, very strangely, - thither to that dread height;—and guide it, and seem to guide it. - Stranger set of Cloud-Compellers the Earth never saw. A Robespierre, a - Billaud, a Collot, Couthon, Saint-Just; not to mention still meaner - Amars, Vadiers, in <i>Sûreté Générale:</i> these are your - Cloud-Compellers. Small intellectual talent is necessary: indeed where - among them, except in the head of Carnot, busied organising victory, - would you find any? The talent is one of instinct rather. It is that of - divining aright what this great dumb Whirlwind wishes and wills; that of - willing, with more frenzy than any one, what all the world wills. To - stand at no obstacles; to heed no considerations human or divine; to know - well that, of divine or human, there is one thing needful, Triumph of the - Republic, Destruction of the Enemies of the Republic! With this one - spiritual endowment, and so few others, it is strange to see how a dumb - inarticulately storming Whirlwind of things puts, as it were, its reins - into your hand, and invites and compels you to be leader of it. - </p> - - <p> - Hard by, sits a Municipality of Paris; all in red nightcaps since the - fourth of November last: a set of men fully “on a level with - circumstances,” or even beyond it. Sleek Mayor Pache, studious to be safe - in the middle; Chaumettes, Héberts, Varlets, and Henriot their great - Commandant; not to speak of Vincent the War-clerk, of Momoros, Dobsents, - and such like: all intent to have Churches plundered, to have Reason - adored, Suspects cut down, and the Revolution triumph. Perhaps carrying - the matter <i>too</i> far? Danton was heard to grumble at the civic - strophes; and to recommend prose and decency. Robespierre also grumbles - that in overturning Superstition we did not mean to make a religion of - Atheism. In fact, your Chaumette and Company constitute a kind of - Hyper-Jacobinism, or rabid “Faction <i>des Enragés;</i>” which has given - orthodox Patriotism some umbrage, of late months. To “know a Suspect on - the streets:” what is this but bringing the <i>Law of the Suspect</i> - itself into ill odour? Men half-frantic, men zealous overmuch,—they - toil there, in their red nightcaps, restlessly, rapidly, accomplishing - what of Life is allotted them. - </p> - - <p> - And the Forty-four Thousand other Townships, each with revolutionary - Committee, based on Jacobin Daughter Society; enlightened by the spirit - of Jacobinism; quickened by the Forty Sous a-day!—The French - Constitution spurned always at any thing like Two Chambers; and yet - behold, has it not verily got Two Chambers? National Convention, elected - for one; Mother of Patriotism, self-elected, for another! Mother of - Patriotism has her Debates reported in the <i>Moniteur</i>, as important - state-procedures; which indisputably they are. A Second Chamber of - Legislature we call this Mother Society;—if perhaps it were not - rather comparable to that old Scotch Body named <i>Lords of the - Articles</i>, without whose origination, and signal given, the so-called - Parliament could introduce no bill, could do no work? Robespierre - himself, whose words are a law, opens his incorruptible lips copiously in - the Jacobins Hall. Smaller Council of <i>Salut Public</i>, Greater - Council of <i>Sûreté Générale</i>, all active Parties, come here to - plead; to shape beforehand what decision they must arrive at, what - destiny they have to expect. Now if a question arose, Which of those Two - Chambers, Convention, or Lords of the Articles, was the <i>stronger?</i> - Happily they as yet go hand in hand. - </p> - - <p> - As for the National Convention, truly it has become a most composed Body. - Quenched now the old effervescence; the Seventy-three locked in ward; - once noisy Friends of the Girondins sunk all into silent men of the - Plain, called even “Frogs of the Marsh,” <i>Crapauds du Marais!</i> - Addresses come, Revolutionary Church-plunder comes; Deputations, with - prose, or strophes: these the Convention receives. But beyond this, the - Convention has one thing mainly to do: to listen what <i>Salut Public</i> - proposes, and say, Yea. - </p> - - <p> - Bazire followed by Chabot, with some impetuosity, declared, one morning, - that this was not the way of a Free Assembly. ‘There ought to be an - Opposition side, a <i>Côté Droit</i>,’ cried Chabot; ‘if none else will - form it, I will: people say to me, You will all get guillotined in your - turn, first you and Bazire, then Danton, then Robespierre himself.’<a - href="#linknote-718" name="linknoteref-718" - id="linknoteref-718">[718]</a> So spake the Disfrocked, with a loud - voice: next week, Bazire and he lie in the Abbaye; wending, one may fear, - towards Tinville and the Axe; and “people say to me”—what seems to - be proving true! Bazire’s blood was all inflamed with Revolution fever; - with coffee and spasmodic dreams.<a href="#linknote-719" - name="linknoteref-719" id="linknoteref-719">[719]</a> Chabot, again, how - happy with his rich Jew-Austrian wife, late Fraulein Frey! But he lies in - Prison; and his two Jew-Austrian Brothers-in-Law, the Bankers Frey, lie - with him; waiting the urn of doom. Let a National Convention, therefore, - take warning, and know its function. Let the Convention, all as one man, - set its shoulder to the work; not with bursts of Parliamentary eloquence, - but in quite other and serviceable ways! - </p> - - <p> - Convention Commissioners, what we ought to call Representatives, - “<i>Représentans</i> on mission,” fly, like the Herald Mercury, to all - points of the Territory; carrying your behests far and wide. In their - “round hat plumed with tricolor feathers, girt with flowing tricolor - taffeta; in close frock, tricolor sash, sword and jack-boots,” these men - are powerfuller than King or Kaiser. They say to whomso they meet, Do; - and he must do it: all men’s goods are at their disposal; for France is - as one huge City in Siege. They smite with Requisitions, and Forced-loan; - they have the power of life and death. Saint-Just and Lebas order the - rich classes of Strasburg to “strip off their shoes,” and send them to - the Armies where as many as “ten thousand pairs” are needed. Also, that - within four and twenty hours, “a thousand beds” are to be got ready;<a - href="#linknote-720" name="linknoteref-720" - id="linknoteref-720">[720]</a> wrapt in matting, and sent under way. For - the time presses!—Like swift bolts, issuing from the fuliginous - Olympus of <i>Salut Public</i> rush these men, oftenest in pairs; scatter - your thunder-orders over France; make France one enormous Revolutionary - thunder-cloud. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0143" id="link2HCH0143"></a> - Chapter 3.5.VI.<br/> - Do thy Duty. - </h3> - - <p> - Accordingly alongside of these bonfires of Church balustrades, and sounds - of fusillading and noyading, there rise quite another sort of fires and - sounds: Smithy-fires and Proof-volleys for the manufacture of arms. - </p> - - <p> - Cut off from Sweden and the world, the Republic must learn to make steel - for itself; and, by aid of Chemists, she has learnt it. Towns that knew - only iron, now know steel: from their new dungeons at Chantilly, - Aristocrats may hear the rustle of our new steel furnace there. Do not - bells transmute themselves into cannon; iron stancheons into the - white-weapon (<i>arme blanche</i>), by sword-cutlery? The wheels of - Langres scream, amid their sputtering fire halo; grinding mere swords. - The stithies of Charleville ring with gun-making. What say we, - Charleville? Two hundred and fifty-eight Forges stand in the open spaces - of Paris itself; a hundred and forty of them in the Esplanade of the - Invalides, fifty-four in the Luxembourg Garden: so many Forges stand; - grim Smiths beating and forging at lock and barrel there. The Clockmakers - have come, requisitioned, to do the touch-holes, the hard-solder and - filework. Five great Barges swing at anchor on the Seine Stream, loud - with boring; the great press-drills grating harsh thunder to the general - ear and heart. And deft Stock-makers do gouge and rasp; and all men - bestir themselves, according to their cunning:—in the language of - hope, it is reckoned that a “thousand finished muskets can be delivered - daily.”<a href="#linknote-721" name="linknoteref-721" - id="linknoteref-721">[721]</a> Chemists of the Republic have taught us - miracles of swift tanning;<a href="#linknote-722" name="linknoteref-722" - id="linknoteref-722">[722]</a> the cordwainer bores and - stitches;—<i>not</i> of “wood and pasteboard,” or he shall answer - it to Tinville! The women sew tents and coats, the children scrape - surgeon’s-lint, the old men sit in the market-places; able men are on - march; all men in requisition: from Town to Town flutters, on the - Heaven’s winds, this Banner, THE FRENCH PEOPLE RISEN AGAINST TYRANTS. - </p> - - <p> - All which is well. But now arises the question: What is to be done for - saltpetre? Interrupted Commerce and the English Navy shut us out from - saltpetre; and without saltpetre there is no gunpowder. Republican - Science again sits meditative; discovers that saltpetre exists here and - there, though in attenuated quantity: that old plaster of walls holds a - sprinkling of it;—that the earth of the Paris Cellars holds a - sprinkling of it, diffused through the common rubbish; that were these - dug up and washed, saltpetre might be had. Whereupon swiftly, see! the - Citoyens, with upshoved <i>bonnet rouge</i>, or with doffed bonnet, and - hair toil-wetted; digging fiercely, each in his own cellar, for - saltpetre. The Earth-heap rises at every door; the Citoyennes with hod - and bucket carrying it up; the Citoyens, pith in every muscle, shovelling - and digging: for life and saltpetre. Dig my <i>braves;</i> and right well - speed ye. What of saltpetre is essential the Republic shall not want. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Consummation of Sansculottism has many aspects and tints: but the - brightest tint, really of a solar or stellar brightness, is this which - the Armies give it. That same fervour of Jacobinism which internally - fills France with hatred, suspicions, scaffolds and Reason-worship, does, - on the Frontiers, shew itself as a glorious <i>Pro patria mori</i>. Ever - since Dumouriez’s defection, three Convention Representatives attend - every General. Committee of <i>Salut</i> has sent them, often with this - Laconic order only: ‘Do thy duty, <i>Fais ton devoir</i>.’ It is strange, - under what impediments the fire of Jacobinism, like other such fires, - will burn. These Soldiers have shoes of wood and pasteboard, or go booted - in hayropes, in dead of winter; they skewer a bass mat round their - shoulders, and are destitute of most things. What then? It is for Rights - of Frenchhood, of Manhood, that they fight: the unquenchable spirit, here - as elsewhere, works miracles. ‘With steel and bread,’ says the Convention - Representative, ‘one may get to China.’ The Generals go fast to the - guillotine; justly and unjustly. From which what inference? This among - others: That ill-success is death; that in victory alone is life! To - conquer or die is no theatrical palabra, in these circumstances: but a - practical truth and necessity. All Girondism, Halfness, Compromise is - swept away. Forward, ye Soldiers of the Republic, captain and man! Dash - with your Gaelic impetuosity, on Austria, England, Prussia, Spain, - Sardinia; Pitt, Cobourg, York, and the Devil and the World! Behind us is - but the Guillotine; before us is Victory, Apotheosis and Millennium - without end! - </p> - - <p> - See accordingly, on all Frontiers, how the Sons of Night, astonished - after short triumph, do recoil;—the Sons of the Republic flying at - them, with wild <i>Ça-ira</i> or Marseillese <i>Aux armes</i>, with the - temper of cat-o’-mountain, or demon incarnate; which no Son of Night can - stand! Spain, which came bursting through the Pyrenees, rustling with - Bourbon banners, and went conquering here and there for a season, falters - at such cat-o’-mountain welcome; draws itself in again; too happy now - were the Pyrenees impassable. Not only does Dugommier, conqueror of - Toulon, drive Spain back; he invades Spain. General Dugommier invades it - by the Eastern Pyrenees; General Muller shall invade it by the Western. - <i>Shall</i>, that is the word: Committee of <i>Salut Public</i> has said - it; Representative Cavaignac, on mission there, must see it done. - Impossible! cries Muller,—Infallible! answers Cavaignac. - Difficulty, impossibility, is to no purpose. ‘The Committee is deaf on - that side of its head,’ answers Cavaignac, ‘<i>n’entend pas de cette - oreille là</i>. How many wantest thou, of men, of horses, cannons? Thou - shalt have them. Conquerors, conquered or hanged, forward we must.’<a - href="#linknote-723" name="linknoteref-723" - id="linknoteref-723">[723]</a> Which things also, even as the - Representative spake them, were <i>done</i>. The Spring of the new Year - sees Spain invaded: and redoubts are carried, and Passes and Heights of - the most scarped description; Spanish Field-officerism struck mute at - such cat-o’-mountain spirit, the cannon forgetting to fire.<a - href="#linknote-724" name="linknoteref-724" - id="linknoteref-724">[724]</a> Swept are the Pyrenees; Town after Town - flies up, burst by terror or the petard. In the course of another year, - Spain will crave Peace; acknowledge its sins and the Republic; nay, in - Madrid, there will be joy as for a victory, that even Peace is got. - </p> - - <p> - Few things, we repeat, can be notabler than these Convention - Representatives, with their power more than kingly. Nay at bottom are - they not Kings, <i>Able-men</i>, of a sort; chosen from the Seven Hundred - and Forty-nine French Kings; with this order, Do thy duty? Representative - Levasseur, of small stature, by trade a mere pacific Surgeon-Accoucheur, - has mutinies to quell; mad hosts (mad at the Doom of Custine) bellowing - far and wide; he alone amid them, the one small - Representative,—small, but as hard as flint, which also carries - <i>fire</i> in it! So too, at Hondschooten, far in the afternoon, he - declares that the battle is not lost; that it must be gained; and fights, - himself, with his own obstetric hand;—horse shot under him, or say - on foot, “up to the haunches in tide-water;” cutting stoccado and passado - there, in defiance of Water, Earth, Air and Fire, the choleric little - Representative that he was! Whereby, as natural, Royal Highness of York - had to withdraw,—occasionally at full gallop; like to be swallowed - by the tide: and his Siege of Dunkirk became a dream, realising only much - loss of beautiful siege-artillery and of brave lives.<a - href="#linknote-725" name="linknoteref-725" - id="linknoteref-725">[725]</a> - </p> - - <p> - General Houchard, it would appear, stood behind a hedge, on this - Hondschooten occasion; wherefore they have since guillotined him. A new - General Jourdan, late Serjeant Jourdan, commands in his stead: he, in - long-winded Battles of Watigny, “murderous artillery-fire mingling itself - with sound of Revolutionary battle-hymns,” forces Austria behind the - Sambre again; has hopes of purging the soil of Liberty. With hard - wrestling, with artillerying and <i>ça-ira</i>-ing, it shall be done. In - the course of a new Summer, Valenciennes will see itself beleaguered; - Condé beleaguered; whatsoever is yet in the hands of Austria beleaguered - and bombarded: nay, by Convention Decree, we even summon them <i>all</i> - “either to surrender in twenty-four hours, or else be put to the - sword;”—a high saying, which, though it remains unfulfilled, may - shew what spirit one is of. - </p> - - <p> - Representative Drouet, as an Old-Dragoon, could fight by a kind of second - nature; but he was unlucky. Him, in a night-foray at Maubeuge, the - Austrians took alive, in October last. They stript him almost naked, he - says; making a shew of him, as King-taker of Varennes. They flung him - into carts; sent him far into the interior of Cimmeria, to “a Fortress - called Spitzberg” on the Danube River; and left him there, at an - elevation of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet, to his own bitter - reflections. Reflections; and also devices! For the indomitable - Old-dragoon constructs wing-machinery, of Paperkite; saws window-bars: - determines to fly down. He will seize a boat, will follow the River’s - course: land somewhere in Crim Tartary, in the Black Sea or - Constantinople region: <i>à la</i> Sindbad! Authentic History, - accordingly, looking far into Cimmeria, discerns dimly a phenomenon. In - the dead night-watches, the Spitzberg sentry is near fainting with - terror: Is it a huge vague Portent descending through the night air? It - is a huge National Representative Old-dragoon, descending by Paperkite; - too rapidly, alas! For Drouet had taken with him “a small - provision-store, twenty pounds weight or thereby;” which proved - accelerative: so he fell, fracturing his leg; and lay there, moaning, - till day dawned, till you could discern clearly that he was not a Portent - but a Representative!<a href="#linknote-726" name="linknoteref-726" - id="linknoteref-726">[726]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or see Saint-Just, in the Lines of Weissembourg, though physically of a - timid apprehensive nature, how he charges with his “Alsatian Peasants - armed hastily” for the nonce; the solemn face of him blazing into flame; - his black hair and tricolor hat-taffeta flowing in the breeze; These our - Lines of Weissembourg were indeed forced, and Prussia and the Emigrants - rolled through: but we <i>re</i>-force the Lines of Weissembourg; and - Prussia and the Emigrants roll back again still faster,—hurled with - bayonet charges and fiery <i>ça-ira</i>-ing. - </p> - - <p> - <i>Ci-devant</i> Sergeant Pichegru, <i>ci-devant</i> Sergeant Hoche, - risen now to be Generals, have done wonders here. Tall Pichegru was meant - for the Church; was Teacher of Mathematics once, in Brienne - School,—his remarkablest Pupil there was the Boy Napoleon - Buonaparte. He then, not in the sweetest humour, enlisted exchanging - ferula for musket; and had got the length of the halberd, beyond which - nothing could be hoped; when the Bastille barriers falling made passage - for him, and he is here. Hoche bore a hand at the literal overturn of the - Bastille; he was, as we saw, a Serjeant of the <i>Gardes Françaises</i>, - spending his pay in rushlights and cheap editions of books. How the - Mountains are burst, and many an Enceladus is disemprisoned: and Captains - founding on Four parchments of Nobility, are blown with their parchments - across the Rhine, into Lunar Limbo! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - What high feats of arms, therefore, were done in these Fourteen Armies; - and how, for love of Liberty and hope of Promotion, low-born valour cut - its desperate way to Generalship; and, from the central Carnot in - <i>Salut Public</i> to the outmost drummer on the Frontiers, men strove - for their Republic, let readers fancy. The snows of Winter, the flowers - of Summer continue to be stained with warlike blood. Gaelic impetuosity - mounts ever higher with victory; spirit of Jacobinism weds itself to - national vanity: the Soldiers of the Republic are becoming, as we - prophesied, very Sons of Fire. Barefooted, barebacked: but with bread and - iron you can get to China! It is one Nation against the whole world; but - the Nation has that within her which the whole world will not conquer. - Cimmeria, astonished, recoils faster or slower; all round the Republic - there rises fiery, as it were, a magic ring of musket-volleying and - <i>ça-ira</i>-ing. Majesty of Prussia, as Majesty of Spain, will by and - by acknowledge his sins and the Republic: and make a Peace of Bâle. - </p> - - <p> - Foreign Commerce, Colonies, Factories in the East and in the West, are - fallen or falling into the hands of sea-ruling Pitt, enemy of human - nature. Nevertheless what sound is this that we hear, on the first of - June, 1794; sound of as war-thunder borne from the Ocean too; of tone - most piercing? War-thunder from off the Brest waters: Villaret-Joyeuse - and English Howe, after long manœuvring have ranked themselves there; and - are belching fire. The enemies of human nature are on their own element; - cannot be conquered; cannot be kept from conquering. Twelve hours of - raging cannonade; sun now sinking westward through the battle-smoke: six - French Ships taken, the Battle lost; what Ship soever can still sail, - making off! But how is it, then, with that <i>Vengeur</i> Ship, she - neither strikes nor makes off? She is lamed, she cannot make off; strike - she will not. Fire rakes her fore and aft, from victorious enemies; the - <i>Vengeur</i> is sinking. Strong are ye, Tyrants of the Sea; yet we - also, are we weak? Lo! all flags, streamers, jacks, every rag of tricolor - that will yet run on rope, fly rustling aloft: the whole crew crowds to - the upper deck; and, with universal soul-maddening yell, shouts <i>Vive - la République</i>,—sinking, sinking. She staggers, she lurches, her - last drunk whirl; Ocean yawns abysmal: down rushes the <i>Vengeur</i>, - carrying <i>Vive la République</i> along with her, unconquerable, into - Eternity!<a href="#linknote-727" name="linknoteref-727" - id="linknoteref-727">[727]</a> Let foreign Despots think of that. There - is an Unconquerable in man, when he stands on his Rights of Man: let - Despots and Slaves and all people know this, and only them that stand on - the Wrongs of Man tremble to know it.—So has History written, - nothing doubting, of the sunk <i>Vengeur</i>. - </p> - - <p> - —Reader! Mendez Pinto, Münchausen, Cagliostro, Psalmanazar have - been great; but they are not the greatest. O Barrère, Barrère, Anacreon - of the Guillotine! must inquisitive pictorial History, in a new edition, - ask again, “How <i>is</i> it with the <i>Vengeur</i>,” in this its - glorious suicidal sinking; and, with resentful brush, dash a - bend-sinister of contumelious lamp-black through thee and it? Alas, alas! - The <i>Vengeur</i>, after fighting bravely, did sink altogether as other - ships do, her captain and above two-hundred of her crew escaping gladly - in British boats; and this same enormous inspiring Feat, and rumour “of - sound most piercing,” turns out to be an enormous inspiring Non-entity, - extant nowhere save, as falsehood, in the brain of Barrère! Actually - so.<a href="#linknote-728" name="linknoteref-728" - id="linknoteref-728">[728]</a> Founded, like the World itself, on - <i>Nothing;</i> proved by Convention Report, by solemn Convention Decree - and Decrees, and wooden “<i>Model of the Vengeur;</i>” believed, bewept, - besung by the whole French People to this hour, it may be regarded as - Barrère’s masterpiece; the largest, most inspiring piece of <i>blague</i> - manufactured, for some centuries, by any man or nation. As such, and not - otherwise, be it henceforth memorable. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0144" id="link2HCH0144"></a> - Chapter 3.5.VII.<br/> - Flame-Picture. - </h3> - - <p> - In this manner, mad-blazing with flame of all imaginable tints, from the - red of Tophet to the stellar-bright, blazes off this Consummation of - Sansculottism. - </p> - - <p> - But the hundredth part of the things that were done, and the thousandth - part of the things that were projected and decreed to be done, would tire - the tongue of History. Statue of the <i>Peuple Souverain</i>, high as - Strasburg Steeple; which shall fling its shadow from the Pont Neuf over - Jardin National and Convention Hall;—enormous, in Painter David’s - head! With other the like enormous Statues not a few: realised in paper - Decree. For, indeed, the Statue of Liberty herself is still but Plaster - in the Place de la Révolution! Then Equalisation of Weights and Measures, - with decimal division; Institutions, of Music and of much else; Institute - in general; School of Arts, School of Mars, <i>Elèves de la Patrie</i>, - Normal Schools: amid such Gun-boring, Altar-burning, Saltpetre-digging, - and miraculous improvements in Tannery! - </p> - - <p> - What, for example, is this that Engineer Chappe is doing, in the Park of - Vincennes? In the Park of Vincennes; and onwards, they say, in the Park - of Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau the assassinated Deputy; and still onwards - to the Heights of Ecouen and further, he has scaffolding set up, has - posts driven in; wooden arms with elbow joints are jerking and fugling in - the air, in the most rapid mysterious manner! Citoyens ran up suspicious. - Yes, O Citoyens, we are signaling: it is a device this, worthy of the - Republic; a thing for what we will call <i>Far-writing</i> without the - aid of postbags; in Greek, it shall be named - Telegraph.—<i>Télégraphe sacré!</i> answers Citoyenism: For writing - to Traitors, to Austria?—and tears it down. Chappe had to escape, - and get a new Legislative Decree. Nevertheless he has accomplished it, - the indefatigable Chappe: this his <i>Far-writer</i>, with its wooden - arms and elbow-joints, can intelligibly signal; and lines of them are set - up, to the North Frontiers and elsewhither. On an Autumn evening of the - Year Two, Far-writer having just written that Condé Town has surrendered - to us, we send from Tuileries Convention Hall this response in the shape - of Decree: “The name of Condé is changed to <i>Nord-Libre</i>, - North-Free. The Army of the North ceases not to merit well of the - country.”—To the admiration of men! For lo, in some half hour, - while the Convention yet debates, there arrives this new answer: “I - inform thee, <i>je t’annonce</i>, Citizen President, that the decree of - Convention, ordering change of the name Condé into <i>North-Free;</i> and - the other declaring that the Army of the North ceases not to merit well - of the country, are transmitted and acknowledged by Telegraph. I have - instructed my Officer at Lille to forward them to North-Free by express. - <i>Signed</i>, CHAPPE.”<a href="#linknote-729" name="linknoteref-729" - id="linknoteref-729">[729]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Or see, over Fleurus in the Netherlands, where General Jourdan, having - now swept the soil of Liberty, and advanced thus far, is just about to - fight, and sweep or be swept, things there not in the Heaven’s Vault, - some Prodigy, seen by Austrian eyes and spyglasses: in the similitude of - an enormous Windbag, with netting and enormous Saucer depending from it? - A Jove’s Balance, O ye Austrian spyglasses? One saucer-hole of a Jove’s - Balance; <i>your</i> poor Austrian scale having kicked itself quite - aloft, out of sight? By Heaven, answer the spyglasses, it is a - Montgolfier, a Balloon, and they are making signals! Austrian - cannon-battery barks at this Montgolfier; harmless as dog at the Moon: - the Montgolfier makes its signals; detects what Austrian ambuscade there - may be, and descends at its ease.<a href="#linknote-730" - name="linknoteref-730" id="linknoteref-730">[730]</a> What will not these - devils incarnate contrive? - </p> - - <p> - On the whole, is it not, O Reader, one of the strangest Flame-Pictures - that ever painted itself; flaming off there, on its ground of - Guillotine-black? And the nightly Theatres are Twenty-three; and the - <i>Salons de danse</i> are sixty: full of mere <i>Egalité, Fraternite</i> - and <i>Carmagnole</i>. And Section Committee-rooms are Forty-eight; - redolent of tobacco and brandy: vigorous with twenty-pence a-day, - coercing the suspect. And the Houses of Arrest are Twelve for Paris - alone; crowded and even crammed. And at all turns, you need your - “Certificate of Civism;” be it for going out, or for coming in; nay - without it you cannot, for money, get your daily ounces of bread. Dusky - red-capped Baker’s-queues; wagging themselves; not in silence! For we - still live by Maximum, in all things; waited on by these two, Scarcity - and Confusion. The faces of men are darkened with suspicion; with - suspecting, or being suspect. The streets lie unswept; the ways unmended. - Law has shut her Books; speaks little, save impromptu, through the throat - of Tinville. Crimes go unpunished: not crimes against the Revolution.<a - href="#linknote-731" name="linknoteref-731" - id="linknoteref-731">[731]</a> “The number of foundling children,” as - some compute, “is doubled.” - </p> - - <p> - How silent now sits Royalism; sits all Aristocratism; Respectability that - kept its Gig! The honour now, and the safety, is to Poverty, not to - Wealth. Your Citizen, who would be fashionable, walks abroad, with his - Wife on his arm, in red wool nightcap, black shag spencer, and carmagnole - complete. Aristocratism crouches low, in what shelter is still left; - submitting to all requisitions, vexations; too happy to escape with life. - Ghastly châteaus stare on you by the wayside; disroofed, diswindowed; - which the National House-broker is peeling for the lead and ashlar. The - old tenants hover disconsolate, over the Rhine with Condé; a spectacle to - men. <i>Ci-devant</i> Seigneur, exquisite in palate, will become an - exquisite Restaurateur Cook in Hamburg; Ci-devant Madame, exquisite in - dress, a successful <i>Marchande des Modes</i> in London. In - Newgate-Street, you meet M. le Marquis, with a rough deal on his - shoulder, adze and jack-plane under arm; he has taken to the joiner - trade; it being necessary to live (<i>faut vivre</i>).<a - href="#linknote-732" name="linknoteref-732" - id="linknoteref-732">[732]</a>—Higher than all Frenchmen the - domestic Stock-jobber flourishes,—in a day of Paper-money. The - Farmer also flourishes: “Farmers’ houses,” says Mercier, “have become - like Pawn-brokers’ shops;” all manner of furniture, apparel, vessels of - gold and silver accumulate themselves there: bread is precious. The - Farmer’s rent is Paper-money, and he alone of men has bread: Farmer is - better than Landlord, and will himself become Landlord. - </p> - - <p> - And daily, we say, like a black Spectre, silently through that - Life-tumult, passes the Revolution Cart; writing on the walls its MENE, - MENE, <i>Thou art weighed, and found wanting!</i> A Spectre with which - one has grown familiar. Men have adjusted themselves: complaint issues - not from that Death-tumbril. Weak women and <i>ci-devants</i>, their - plumage and finery all tarnished, sit there; with a silent gaze, as if - looking into the Infinite Black. The once light lip wears a curl of - irony, uttering no word; and the Tumbril fares along. They may be guilty - before Heaven, or not; they are guilty, we suppose, before the - Revolution. Then, does not the Republic “coin money” of them, with its - great axe? Red Nightcaps howl dire approval: the rest of Paris looks on; - if with a sigh, that is much; Fellow-creatures whom sighing cannot help; - whom black Necessity and Tinville have clutched. - </p> - - <p> - One other thing, or rather two other things, we will still mention; and - no more: The Blond Perukes; the Tannery at Meudon. Great talk is of these - <i>Perruques blondes:</i> O Reader, they are made from the Heads of - Guillotined women! The locks of a Duchess, in this way, may come to cover - the scalp of a Cordwainer: her blond German Frankism his black Gaelic - poll, if it be bald. Or they may be worn affectionately, as relics; - rendering one suspect?<a href="#linknote-733" name="linknoteref-733" - id="linknoteref-733">[733]</a> Citizens use them, not without mockery; of - a rather cannibal sort. - </p> - - <p> - Still deeper into one’s heart goes that Tannery at Meudon; not mentioned - among the other miracles of tanning! “At Meudon,” says Montgaillard with - considerable calmness, “there was a Tannery of Human Skins; such of the - Guillotined as seemed worth flaying: of which perfectly good wash-leather - was made:” for breeches, and other uses. The skin of the men, he remarks, - was superior in toughness (<i>consistance</i>) and quality to shamoy; - that of women was good for almost nothing, being so soft in texture!<a - href="#linknote-734" name="linknoteref-734" - id="linknoteref-734">[734]</a>—History looking back over - Cannibalism, through <i>Purchas’s Pilgrims</i> and all early and late - Records, will perhaps find no terrestrial Cannibalism of a sort on the - whole so detestable. It is a manufactured, soft-feeling, quietly elegant - sort; a sort <i>perfide!</i> Alas then, is man’s civilisation only a - wrappage, through which the savage nature of him can still burst, - infernal as ever? Nature still makes him; and has an Infernal in her as - well as a Celestial. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0169" id="link2H_4_0169"></a> - BOOK 3.VI.<br/> - THERMIDOR - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0145" id="link2HCH0145"></a> - Chapter 3.6.I.<br/> - The Gods are athirst. - </h3> - - <p> - What then is this Thing, called <i>La Révolution</i>, which, like an - Angel of Death, hangs over France, noyading, fusillading, fighting, - gun-boring, tanning human skins? <i>La Révolution</i> is but so many - Alphabetic Letters; a thing nowhere to be laid hands on, to be clapt - under lock and key: where is it? what is it? It is the Madness that - dwells in the hearts of men. In this man it is, and in that man; as a - rage or as a terror, it is in all men. Invisible, impalpable; and yet no - black Azrael, with wings spread over half a continent, with sword - sweeping from sea to sea, could be a truer Reality. - </p> - - <p> - To explain, what is called explaining, the march of this Revolutionary - Government, be no task of ours. Men cannot explain it. A paralytic - Couthon, asking in the Jacobins, “what hast thou done to be hanged if the - Counter-Revolution should arrive;” a sombre Saint-Just, not yet - six-and-twenty, declaring that “for Revolutionists there is no rest but - in the tomb;” a seagreen Robespierre converted into vinegar and gall; - much more an Amar and Vadier, a Collot and Billaud: to inquire what - thoughts, predetermination or prevision, might be in the head of these - men! Record of their thought remains not; Death and Darkness have swept - it out utterly. Nay if we even had their thought, all they could have - articulately spoken to us, how insignificant a fraction were that of the - Thing which realised itself, which decreed itself, on signal given by - them! As has been said more than once, this Revolutionary Government is - not a self-conscious but a blind fatal one. Each man, enveloped in his - ambient-atmosphere of revolutionary fanatic Madness, rushes on, impelled - and impelling; and has become a blind brute Force; no rest for him but in - the grave! Darkness and the mystery of horrid cruelty cover it for us, in - History; as they did in Nature. The chaotic Thunder-cloud, with its - pitchy black, and its tumult of dazzling jagged fire, in a world all - electric: thou wilt not undertake to shew how that comported - itself,—what the secrets of its dark womb were; from what sources, - with what specialities, the lightning it held did, in confused brightness - of terror, strike forth, destructive and self-destructive, till it ended? - Like a Blackness naturally of Erebus, which by will of Providence had for - once mounted itself into dominion and the Azure: is not this properly the - nature of Sansculottism consummating itself? Of which Erebus Blackness be - it enough to discern that this and the other dazzling fire-bolt, dazzling - fire-torrent, does by small Volition and great Necessity, verily - issue,—in such and such succession; destructive so and so, - self-destructive so and so: till it end. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Royalism is extinct, “sunk,” as they say, “in the mud of the Loire;” - Republicanism dominates without and within: what, therefore, on the 15th - day of March, 1794, is this? Arrestment, sudden really as a bolt out of - the Blue, has hit strange victims: Hébert <i>Père Duchene</i>, - Bibliopolist Momoro, Clerk Vincent, General Ronsin; high Cordelier - Patriots, redcapped Magistrates of Paris, Worshippers of Reason, - Commanders of Revolutionary Army! Eight short days ago, their Cordelier - Club was loud, and louder than ever, with Patriot denunciations. Hébert - <i>Père Duchene</i> had ‘held his tongue and his heart these two months, - at sight of Moderates, Crypto-Aristocrats, Camilles, <i>Scélérats</i> in - the Convention itself: but could not do it any longer; would, if other - remedy were not, invoke the Sacred right of Insurrection.’ So spake - Hébert in Cordelier Session; with vivats, till the roofs rang again.<a - href="#linknote-735" name="linknoteref-735" - id="linknoteref-735">[735]</a> Eight short days ago; and now already! - They rub their eyes: it is no dream; they find themselves in the - Luxembourg. Goose Gobel too; and they that burnt Churches! Chaumette - himself, potent Procureur, <i>Agent National</i> as they now call it, who - could “recognise the Suspect by the very face of them,” he lingers but - three days; on the third day he too is hurled in. Most chopfallen, blue, - enters the National Agent this Limbo whither he has sent so many. - Prisoners crowd round, jibing and jeering: ‘Sublime National Agent,’ says - one, ‘in virtue of thy immortal Proclamation, lo there! I am suspect, - thou art suspect, he is suspect, we are suspect, ye are suspect, they are - suspect!’ - </p> - - <p> - The meaning of these things? Meaning! It is a Plot; Plot of the most - extensive ramifications; which, however, Barrère holds the threads of. - Such Church-burning and scandalous masquerades of Atheism, fit to make - the Revolution odious: where indeed could they originate but in the gold - of Pitt? Pitt indubitably, as Preternatural Insight will teach one, did - hire this Faction of <i>Enragés</i>, to play their fantastic tricks; to - roar in their Cordeliers Club about Moderatism; to print their <i>Père - Duchene;</i> worship skyblue Reason in red nightcap; rob all - Altars,—and bring the spoil to <i>us!</i> - </p> - - <p> - Still more indubitable, visible to the mere bodily sight, is this: that - the Cordeliers Club sits pale, with anger and terror; and has “veiled the - Rights of Man,”—without effect. Likewise that the Jacobins are in - considerable confusion; busy “purging themselves, “<i>s’épurant</i>,” as, - in times of Plot and public Calamity, they have repeatedly had to do. Not - even Camille Desmoulins but has given offence: nay there have risen - murmurs against Danton himself; though he bellowed them down, and - Robespierre finished the matter by “embracing him in the Tribune.” - </p> - - <p> - Whom shall the Republic and a jealous Mother Society trust? In these - times of temptation, of Preternatural Insight! For there are Factions of - the Stranger, “de <i>l”étranger</i>,” Factions of Moderates, of Enraged; - all manner of Factions: we walk in a world of Plots; strings, universally - spread, of deadly gins and falltraps, baited by the gold of Pitt! Clootz, - Speaker of Mankind so-called, with his <i>Evidences of Mahometan - Religion</i>, and babble of Universal Republic, him an incorruptible - Robespierre has purged away. Baron Clootz, and Paine rebellious Needleman - lie, these two months, in the Luxembourg; limbs of the Faction <i>de - l’étranger</i>. Representative Phélippeaux is purged out: he came back - from La Vendée with an ill report in his mouth against rogue Rossignol, - and our method of warfare there. Recant it, O Phélippeaux, we entreat - thee! Phélippeaux will not recant; and is purged out. Representative - Fabre d’Eglantine, famed Nomenclator of Romme’s Calendar, is purged out; - nay, is cast into the Luxembourg: accused of Legislative Swindling “in - regard to monies of the India Company.” There with his Chabots, Bazires, - guilty of the like, let Fabre wait his destiny. And Westermann friend of - Danton, he who led the Marseillese on the Tenth of August, and fought - well in La Vendée, but spoke not well of rogue Rossignol, is purged out. - Lucky, if he too go not to the Luxembourg. And your Prolys, Guzmans, of - the Faction of the Stranger, they have gone; Peyreyra, though he fled is - gone, “taken in the disguise of a Tavern Cook.” I am suspect, thou art - suspect, he is suspect!— - </p> - - <p> - The great heart of Danton is weary of it. Danton is gone to native Arcis, - for a little breathing time of peace: Away, black Arachne-webs, thou - world of Fury, Terror, and Suspicion; welcome, thou everlasting Mother, - with thy spring greenness, thy kind household loves and memories; true - art thou, were all else untrue! The great Titan walks silent, by the - banks of the murmuring Aube, in young native haunts that knew him when a - boy; wonders what the end of these things may be. - </p> - - <p> - But strangest of all, Camille Desmoulins is purged out. Couthon gave as a - test in regard to Jacobin purgation the question, “What hast thou done to - be hanged if Counter-Revolution should arrive?” Yet Camille, who could so - well answer this question, is purged out! The truth is, Camille, early in - December last, began publishing a new Journal, or Series of Pamphlets, - entitled the <i>Vieux Cordelier</i>, Old Cordelier. Camille, not afraid - at one time to “embrace Liberty on a heap of dead bodies,” begins to ask - now, Whether among so many arresting and punishing Committees there ought - not to be a “Committee of Mercy?” Saint-Just, he observes, is an - extremely solemn young Republican, who “carries his head as if it were a - <i>Saint-Sacrement;</i> adorable Hostie, or divine Real-Presence! Sharply - enough, this <i>old</i> Cordelier, Danton and he were of the earliest - primary Cordeliers,—shoots his glittering war-shafts into your - <i>new</i> Cordeliers, your Héberts, Momoros, with their brawling - brutalities and despicabilities: say, as the Sun-god (for poor Camille is - a Poet) shot into that Python Serpent sprung of mud. - </p> - - <p> - Whereat, as was natural, the Hébertist Python did hiss and writhe - amazingly; and threaten “sacred right of Insurrection;”—and, as we - saw, get cast into Prison. Nay, with all the old wit, dexterity, and - light graceful poignancy, Camille, translating “out of <i>Tacitus</i>, - from the Reign of Tiberius,” pricks into the <i>Law of the Suspect</i> - itself; making it odious! Twice, in the Decade, his wild Leaves issue; - full of wit, nay of humour, of harmonious ingenuity and - insight,—one of the strangest phenomenon of that dark time; and - smite, in their wild-sparkling way, at various monstrosities, - Saint-Sacrament heads, and Juggernaut idols, in a rather reckless manner. - To the great joy of Josephine Beauharnais, and the other Five Thousand - and odd Suspect, who fill the Twelve Houses of Arrest; on whom a ray of - hope dawns! Robespierre, at first approbatory, knew not at last what to - think; then thought, with his Jacobins, that Camille must be expelled. A - man of true Revolutionary spirit, this Camille; but with the unwisest - sallies; whom Aristocrats and Moderates have the art to corrupt! - Jacobinism is in uttermost crisis and struggle: enmeshed wholly in plots, - corruptibilities, neck-gins and baited falltraps of Pitt <i>Ennemi du - Genre Humain</i>. Camille’s First Number begins with “O Pitt!”—his - last is dated 15 Pluviose Year 2, 3d February 1794; and ends with these - words of Montezuma’s, “<i>Les dieux ont soif</i>, The gods are athirst.” - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Be this as it may, the Hébertists lie in Prison only some nine days. On - the 24th of March, therefore, the Revolution Tumbrils carry through that - Life-tumult a new cargo: Hébert, Vincent, Momoro, Ronsin, Nineteen of - them in all; with whom, curious enough, sits Clootz Speaker of Mankind. - They have been massed swiftly into a lump, this miscellany of - Nondescripts; and travel now their last road. No help. They too must - “look through the little window;” they too “must sneeze into the sack,” - <i>éternuer dans le sac;</i> as they have done to others so is it done to - them. <i>Sainte-Guillotine</i>, meseems, is worse than the old Saints of - Superstition; a man-devouring Saint? Clootz, still with an air of - polished sarcasm, endeavours to jest, to offer cheering “arguments of - Materialism;” he requested to be executed last, “in order to establish - certain principles,”—which Philosophy has not retained. General - Ronsin too, he still looks forth with some air of defiance, eye of - command: the rest are sunk in a stony paleness of despair. Momoro, poor - Bibliopolist, no Agrarian Law yet realised,—they might as well have - hanged thee at Evreux, twenty months ago, when Girondin Buzot hindered - them. Hébert <i>Père Duchesne</i> shall never in this world rise in - sacred right of insurrection; he sits there low enough, head sunk on - breast; Red Nightcaps shouting round him, in frightful parody of his - Newspaper Articles, ‘Grand choler of the Père Duchesne!’ Thus perish - they; the sack receives all their heads. Through some section of History, - Nineteen spectre-chimeras shall flit, speaking and gibbering; till - Oblivion swallow them. - </p> - - <p> - In the course of a week, the Revolutionary Army itself is disbanded; the - General having become spectral. This Faction of Rabids, therefore, is - also purged from the Republican soil; here also the baited falltraps of - that Pitt have been wrenched up harmless; and anew there is joy over a - Plot Discovered. The Revolution then is verily devouring its own - children. All Anarchy, by the nature of it, is not only destructive but - self-destructive. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0146" id="link2HCH0146"></a> - Chapter 3.6.II.<br/> - Danton, No Weakness. - </h3> - - <p> - Danton, meanwhile, has been pressingly sent for from Arcis: he must - return instantly, cried Camille, cried Phélippeaux and Friends, who - scented danger in the wind. Danger enough! A Danton, a Robespierre, - chief-products of a victorious Revolution, are now arrived in immediate - front of one another; must ascertain how they will live together, rule - together. One conceives easily the deep mutual incompatibility that - divided these two: with what terror of feminine hatred the poor seagreen - Formula looked at the monstrous colossal Reality, and grew greener to - behold him;—the Reality, again, struggling to think no ill of a - chief-product of the Revolution; yet feeling at bottom that such - chief-product was little other than a chief wind-bag, blown large by - Popular air; not a man with the heart of a man, but a poor spasmodic - incorruptible pedant, with a logic-formula instead of heart; of Jesuit or - Methodist-Parson nature; full of sincere-cant, incorruptibility, of - virulence, poltroonery; barren as the east-wind! Two such chief-products - are too much for one Revolution. - </p> - - <p> - Friends, trembling at the results of a quarrel on their part, brought - them to meet. ‘It is right,’ said Danton, swallowing much indignation, - ‘to repress the Royalists: but we should not strike except where it is - useful to the Republic; we should not confound the innocent and the - guilty.’—‘And who told you,’ replied Robespierre with a poisonous - look, ‘that one innocent person had perished?’—‘<i>Quoi</i>,’ said - Danton, turning round to Friend Paris self-named Fabricius, Juryman in - the Revolutionary Tribunal: ‘<i>Quoi</i>, not one innocent? What sayest - thou of it, Fabricius!’<a href="#linknote-736" name="linknoteref-736" - id="linknoteref-736">[736]</a>—Friends, Westermann, this Pâris and - others urged him to shew himself, to ascend the Tribune and act. The man - Danton was not prone to shew himself; to act, or uproar for his own - safety. A man of careless, large, hoping nature; a large nature that - could rest: he would sit whole hours, they say, hearing Camille talk, and - liked nothing so well. Friends urged him to fly; his Wife urged him: - ‘Whither fly?’ answered he: ‘If freed France cast me out, there are only - dungeons for me elsewhere. One carries not his country with him at the - sole of his shoe!’ The man Danton sat still. Not even the arrestment of - Friend Herault, a member of <i>Salut</i>, yet arrested by <i>Salut</i>, - can rouse Danton.—On the night of the 30th of March, Juryman Paris - came rushing in; haste looking through his eyes: A clerk of the - <i>Salut</i> Committee had told him Danton’s warrant was made out, he is - to be arrested this very night! Entreaties there are and trepidation, of - poor Wife, of Paris and Friends: Danton sat silent for a while; then - answered, ‘<i>Ils n’oseraient</i>, They dare not;’ and would take no - measures. Murmuring ‘They dare not,’ he goes to sleep as usual. - </p> - - <p> - And yet, on the morrow morning, strange rumour spreads over Paris City: - Danton, Camille, Phélippeaux, Lacroix have been arrested overnight! It is - verily so: the corridors of the Luxembourg were all crowded, Prisoners - crowding forth to see this giant of the Revolution among them. - ‘Messieurs,’ said Danton politely, ‘I hoped soon to have got you all out - of this: but here I am myself; and one sees not where it will - end.’—Rumour may spread over Paris: the Convention clusters itself - into groups; wide-eyed, whispering, ‘Danton arrested!’ Who then is safe? - Legendre, mounting the Tribune, utters, at his own peril, a feeble word - for him; moving that he be heard at that Bar before indictment; but - Robespierre frowns him down: ‘Did you hear Chabot, or Bazire? Would you - have two weights and measures?’ Legendre cowers low; Danton, like the - others, must take his doom. - </p> - - <p> - Danton’s Prison-thoughts were curious to have; but are not given in any - quantity: indeed few such remarkable men have been left so obscure to us - as this Titan of the Revolution. He was heard to ejaculate: ‘This time - twelvemonth, I was moving the creation of that same Revolutionary - Tribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and man. They are all Brothers - Cain: Brissot would have had me guillotined as Robespierre now will. I - leave the whole business in a frightful welter (<i>gâchis - épouvantable</i>): not one of them understands anything of government. - Robespierre will follow me; I drag down Robespierre. O, it were better to - be a poor fisherman than to meddle with governing of - men.’—Camille’s young beautiful Wife, who had made him rich not in - money alone, hovers round the Luxembourg, like a disembodied spirit, day - and night. Camille’s stolen letters to her still exist; stained with the - mark of his tears.<a href="#linknote-737" name="linknoteref-737" - id="linknoteref-737">[737]</a> ‘I carry my head like a Saint-Sacrament?’ - so Saint-Just was heard to mutter: ‘Perhaps he will carry his like a - Saint-Dennis.’ - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Unhappy Danton, thou still unhappier light Camille, once light - <i>Procureur de la Lanterne</i>, ye also have arrived, then, at the - Bourne of Creation, where, like Ulysses Polytlas at the limit and utmost - Gades of his voyage, gazing into that dim Waste beyond Creation, a man - does see <i>the Shade of his Mother</i>, pale, ineffectual;—and - days when his Mother nursed and wrapped him are all-too sternly - contrasted with this day! Danton, Camille, Herault, Westermann, and the - others, very strangely massed up with Bazires, Swindler Chabots, Fabre - d’Eglantines, Banker Freys, a most motley Batch, “<i>Fournée</i>” as such - things will be called, stand ranked at the Bar of Tinville. It is the 2d - of April 1794. Danton has had but three days to lie in Prison; for the - time presses. - </p> - - <p> - What is your name? place of abode? and the like, Fouquier asks; according - to formality. ‘My name is Danton,’ answers he; ‘a name tolerably known in - the Revolution: my abode will soon be Annihilation (<i>dans le - Néant</i>); but I shall live in the Pantheon of History.’ A man will - endeavour to say something forcible, be it by nature or not! Herault - mentions epigrammatically that he ‘sat in this Hall, and was detested of - Parlementeers.’ Camille makes answer, ‘My age is that of the <i>bon - Sansculotte Jésus;</i> an age fatal to Revolutionists.’ O Camille, - Camille! And yet in that Divine Transaction, let us say, there did lie, - among other things, the fatallest Reproof ever uttered here below to - Worldly Right-honourableness; “the highest Fact,” so devout Novalis calls - it, “in the Rights of Man.” Camille’s real age, it would seem, is - thirty-four. Danton is one year older. - </p> - - <p> - Some five months ago, the Trial of the Twenty-two Girondins was the - greatest that Fouquier had then done. But here is a still greater to do; - a thing which tasks the whole faculty of Fouquier; which makes the very - heart of him waver. For it is the voice of Danton that reverberates now - from these domes; in passionate words, piercing with their wild - sincerity, winged with wrath. Your best Witnesses he shivers into ruin at - one stroke. He demands that the Committee-men themselves come as - Witnesses, as Accusers; he ‘will cover them with ignominy.’ He raises his - huge stature, he shakes his huge black head, fire flashes from the eyes - of him,—piercing to all Republican hearts: so that the very - Galleries, though we filled them by ticket, murmur sympathy; and are like - to burst down, and raise the People, and deliver him! He complains loudly - that he is classed with Chabots, with swindling Stockjobbers; that his - Indictment is a list of platitudes and horrors. ‘Danton hidden on the - Tenth of August?’ reverberates he, with the roar of a lion in the toils: - ‘Where are the men that had to press Danton to shew himself, that day? - Where are these high-gifted souls of whom he borrowed energy? Let them - appear, these Accusers of mine: I have all the clearness of my - self-possession when I demand them. I will unmask the three shallow - scoundrels,’ <i>les trois plats coquins</i>, Saint-Just, Couthon, Lebas, - ‘who fawn on Robespierre, and lead him towards his destruction. Let them - produce themselves here; I will plunge them into Nothingness, out of - which they ought never to have risen.’ The agitated President agitates - his bell; enjoins calmness, in a vehement manner: ‘What is it to thee how - I defend myself?’ cries the other: ‘the right of <i>dooming</i> me is - thine always. The voice of a man speaking for his honour and his life may - well drown the jingling of thy bell!’ Thus Danton, higher and higher; - till the lion voice of him “dies away in his throat:” speech will not - utter what is in that man. The Galleries murmur ominously; the first - day’s Session is over. - </p> - - <p> - O Tinville, President Herman, what will ye do? They have two days more of - it, by strictest Revolutionary Law. The Galleries already murmur. If this - Danton were to burst your mesh-work!—Very curious indeed to - consider. It turns on a hair: and what a Hoitytoity were <i>there</i>, - Justice and Culprit changing places; and the whole History of France - running changed! For in France there is this Danton only that could still - try to govern France. He only, the wild amorphous Titan;—and - perhaps that other olive-complexioned individual, the Artillery Officer - at Toulon, whom we left pushing his fortune in the South? - </p> - - <p> - On the evening of the second day, matters looking not better but worse - and worse, Fouquier and Herman, distraction in their aspect, rush over to - <i>Salut Public</i>. What is to be done? <i>Salut Public</i> rapidly - concocts a new Decree; whereby if men “insult Justice,” they may be - “thrown out of the Debates.” For indeed, withal, is there not “a Plot in - the Luxembourg Prison?” <i>Ci-devant</i> General Dillon, and others of - the Suspect, plotting with Camille’s Wife to distribute <i>assignats;</i> - to force the Prisons, overset the Republic? Citizen Laflotte, himself - Suspect but desiring enfranchisement, has reported said Plot for - us:—a report that may bear fruit! Enough, on the morrow morning, an - obedient Convention passes this Decree. <i>Salut</i> rushes off with it - to the aid of Tinville, reduced now almost to extremities. And so, - <i>Hors des Débats</i>, Out of the Debates, ye insolents! Policemen do - your duty! In such manner, with a deadlift effort, <i>Salut</i>, Tinville - Herman, Leroi <i>Dix-Août</i>, and all stanch jurymen setting heart and - shoulder to it, the Jury becomes “sufficiently instructed;” Sentence is - passed, is sent by an Official, and torn and trampled on: <i>Death this - day</i>. It is the 5th of April, 1794. Camille’s poor Wife may cease - hovering about this Prison. Nay let her kiss her poor children; and - prepare to enter it, and to follow!— - </p> - - <p> - Danton carried a high look in the Death-cart. Not so Camille: it is but - one week, and all is so topsy-turvied; angel Wife left weeping; love, - riches, Revolutionary fame, left all at the Prison-gate; carnivorous - Rabble now howling round. Palpable, and yet incredible; like a madman’s - dream! Camille struggles and writhes; his shoulders shuffle the loose - coat off them, which hangs knotted, the hands tied: ‘Calm my friend,’ - said Danton; ‘heed not that vile canaille (<i>laissez là cette vile - canaille</i>).’ At the foot of the Scaffold, Danton was heard to - ejaculate: ‘O my Wife, my well-beloved, I shall never see thee more - then!’—but, interrupting himself: ‘Danton, no weakness!’ He said to - Hérault-Séchelles stepping forward to embrace him: ‘Our heads will meet - <i>there</i>,’ in the Headsman’s sack. His last words were to Samson the - Headsman himself: ‘Thou wilt shew my head to the people; it is worth - shewing.’ - </p> - - <p> - So passes, like a gigantic mass, of valour, ostentation, fury, affection - and wild revolutionary manhood, this Danton, to his unknown home. He was - of Arcis-sur-Aube; born of “good farmer-people” there. He had many sins; - but one worst sin he had not, that of Cant. No hollow Formalist, - deceptive and self-deceptive, <i>ghastly</i> to the natural sense, was - this; but a very Man: with all his dross he was a Man; fiery-real, from - the great fire-bosom of Nature herself. He saved France from Brunswick; - he walked straight his own wild road, whither it led him. He may live for - some generations in the memory of men. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0147" id="link2HCH0147"></a> - Chapter 3.6.III.<br/> - The Tumbrils. - </h3> - - <p> - Next week, it is still but the 10th of April, there comes a new Nineteen; - Chaumette, Gobel, Hébert’s Widow, the Widow of Camille: these also roll - their fated journey; black Death devours them. Mean Hébert’s Widow was - weeping, Camille’s Widow tried to speak comfort to her. O ye kind - Heavens, azure, beautiful, eternal behind your tempests and Time-clouds, - is there not pity for all! Gobel, it seems, was repentant; he begged - absolution of a Priest; did as a Gobel best could. For Anaxagoras - Chaumette, the sleek head now stript of its <i>bonnet rouge</i>, what - hope is there? Unless Death <i>were</i> “an eternal sleep?” Wretched - Anaxagoras, God shall judge thee, not I. - </p> - - <p> - Hébert, therefore, is gone, and the Hébertists; they that robbed - Churches, and adored blue Reason in red nightcap. Great Danton, and the - Dantonists; they also are gone. Down to the catacombs; they are become - silent men! Let no Paris Municipality, no Sect or Party of this hue or - that, resist the will of Robespierre and <i>Salut</i>. Mayor Pache, not - prompt enough in denouncing these Pitts Plots, may congratulate about - them now. Never so heartily; it skills not! His course likewise is to the - Luxembourg. We appoint one Fleuriot-Lescot Interim-Mayor in his stead: an - “architect from Belgium,” they say, this Fleuriot; he is a man one can - depend on. Our new Agent-National is Payan, lately Juryman; whose - cynosure also is Robespierre. - </p> - - <p> - Thus then, we perceive, this confusedly electric Erebus-cloud of - Revolutionary Government has altered its shape somewhat. Two masses, or - wings, belonging to it; an over-electric mass of Cordelier Rabids, and an - under-electric of Dantonist Moderates and Clemency-men,—these two - masses, shooting bolts at one another, so to speak, have annihilated one - another. For the Erebus-cloud, as we often remark, is of suicidal nature; - and, in jagged irregularity, darts its lightning withal into itself. But - now these two discrepant masses being mutually annihilated, it is as if - the Erebus-cloud had got to internal composure; and did only pour its - hellfire lightning on the World that lay under it. In plain words, Terror - of the Guillotine was never terrible till now. Systole, diastole, swift - and ever swifter goes the Axe of Samson. Indictments cease by degrees to - have so much as plausibility: Fouquier chooses from the Twelve houses of - Arrest what he calls Batches, “<i>Fournées</i>,” a score or more at a - time; his Jurymen are charged to make <i>feu de file</i>, fire-filing - till the ground be <i>clear</i>. Citizen Laflotte’s report of Plot in the - Luxembourg is verily bearing fruit! If no speakable charge exist against - a man, or Batch of men, Fouquier has always this: a Plot in the Prison. - Swift and ever swifter goes Samson; up, finally, to three score and more - at a Batch! It is the highday of Death: none but the Dead return not. - </p> - - <p> - O dusky d’Espréménil, what a day is this, the 22d of April, thy last day! - The Palais Hall here is the same stone Hall, where thou, five years ago, - stoodest perorating, amid endless pathos of rebellious Parlement, in the - grey of the morning; bound to march with d’Agoust to the Isles of Hieres. - The stones are the same stones: but the rest, Men, Rebellion, Pathos, - Peroration, see! it has all fled, like a gibbering troop of ghosts, like - the phantasms of a dying brain! With d’Espréménil, in the same line of - Tumbrils, goes the mournfullest medley. Chapelier goes, <i>ci-devant</i> - popular President of the Constituent; whom the Menads and Maillard met in - his carriage, on the Versailles Road. Thouret likewise, <i>ci-devant</i> - President, father of Constitutional Law-acts; he whom we heard saying, - long since, with a loud voice, ‘The Constituent Assembly has fulfilled - its mission!’ And the noble old Malesherbes, who defended Louis and could - not speak, like a grey old rock dissolving into sudden water: he journeys - here now, with his kindred, daughters, sons and grandsons, his - Lamoignons, Châteaubriands; silent, towards Death.—One young - Châteaubriand alone is wandering amid the Natchez, by the roar of Niagara - Falls, the moan of endless forests: Welcome thou great Nature, savage, - but not false, not unkind, unmotherly; no Formula thou, or rapid jangle - of Hypothesis, Parliamentary Eloquence, Constitution-building and the - Guillotine; speak thou to me, O Mother, and sing my sick heart thy mystic - everlasting lullaby-song, and let all the rest be far!— - </p> - - <p> - Another row of Tumbrils we must notice: that which holds Elizabeth, the - Sister of Louis. Her Trial was like the rest; for Plots, for Plots. She - was among the kindliest, most innocent of women. There sat with her, amid - four-and-twenty others, a once timorous Marchioness de Crussol; - courageous now; expressing towards her the liveliest loyalty. At the foot - of the Scaffold, Elizabeth with tears in her eyes, thanked this - Marchioness; said she was grieved she could not reward her. ‘Ah, Madame, - would your Royal Highness deign to embrace me, my wishes were - complete!’—‘Right willingly, Marquise de Crussol, and with my whole - heart.’<a href="#linknote-738" name="linknoteref-738" - id="linknoteref-738">[738]</a> Thus they: at the foot of the Scaffold. - The Royal Family is now reduced to two: a girl and a little boy. The boy, - once named Dauphin, was taken from his Mother while she yet lived; and - given to one Simon, by trade a Cordwainer, on service then about the - Temple-Prison, to bring him up in principles of Sansculottism. Simon - taught him to drink, to swear, to sing the <i>carmagnole</i>. Simon is - now gone to the Municipality: and the poor boy, hidden in a tower of the - Temple, from which in his fright and bewilderment and early decrepitude - he wishes not to stir out, lies perishing, “his shirt not changed for six - months;” amid squalor and darkness, lamentably,<a href="#linknote-739" - name="linknoteref-739" id="linknoteref-739">[739]</a>—so as none - but poor Factory Children and the like are wont to perish, and <i>not</i> - be lamented! - </p> - - <p> - The Spring sends its green leaves and bright weather, bright May brighter - than ever: Death pauses not. Lavoisier famed Chemist, shall die and not - live: Chemist Lavoisier was Farmer-General Lavoisier too, and now “all - the Farmers-General are arrested;” all, and shall give an account of - their monies and incomings; and die for “putting water in the tobacco” - they sold.<a href="#linknote-740" name="linknoteref-740" - id="linknoteref-740">[740]</a> Lavoisier begged a fortnight more of life, - to finish some experiments: but ‘the Republic does not need such;’ the - axe must do its work. Cynic Chamfort, reading these Inscriptions of - <i>Brotherhood or Death</i>, says ‘it is a Brotherhood of Cain:’ - arrested, then liberated; then about to be arrested again, this Chamfort - cuts and slashes himself with frantic uncertain hand; gains, not without - difficulty, the refuge of death. Condorcet has lurked deep, these many - months; Argus-eyes watching and searching for him. His concealment is - become dangerous to others and himself; he has to fly again, to skulk, - round Paris, in thickets and stone-quarries. And so at the Village of - Clamars, one bleared May morning, there enters a Figure, ragged, - rough-bearded, hunger-stricken; asks breakfast in the tavern there. - Suspect, by the look of him! ‘Servant out of place, sayest thou?’ - Committee-President of Forty-Sous finds a Latin Horace on him: ‘Art thou - not one of those <i>Ci-devants</i> that were wont to keep servants? - <i>Suspect!</i>’ He is haled forthwith, breakfast unfinished, towards - Bourg-la-Reine, on foot: he faints with exhaustion; is set on a peasant’s - horse; is flung into his damp prison-cell: on the morrow, recollecting - him, you enter; Condorcet lies dead on the floor. They die fast, and - disappear: the Notabilities of France disappear, one after one, like - lights in a Theatre, which you are snuffing out. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Under which circumstances, is it not singular, and almost touching, to - see Paris City drawn out, in the meek May nights, in civic ceremony, - which they call “<i>Souper Fraternel</i>,” Brotherly Supper? Spontaneous, - or partially spontaneous, in the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth nights - of this May month, it is seen. Along the Rue Saint-Honoré, and main - Streets and Spaces, each Citoyen brings forth what of supper the stingy - <i>Maximum</i> has yielded him, to the open air; joins it to his - neighbour’s supper; and with common table, cheerful light burning - frequent, and what due modicum of cut-glasses and other garnish and - relish is convenient, they eat frugally together, under the kind stars.<a - href="#linknote-741" name="linknoteref-741" - id="linknoteref-741">[741]</a> See it O Night! With cheerfully pledged - wine-cup, hobnobbing to the Reign of Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood, with - their wives in best ribands, with their little ones romping round, the - Citoyens, in frugal Love-feast, sit there. Night in her wide empire sees - nothing similar. O my brothers, why is the reign of Brotherhood - <i>not</i> come! It is come, it shall come, say the Citoyens frugally - hobnobbing.—Ah me! these everlasting stars, do they not look down - “like glistening eyes, bright with immortal pity, over the lot of - man!”— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - One lamentable thing, however, is, that individuals will attempt - assassination—of Representatives of the People. Representative - Collot, Member even of <i>Salut</i>, returning home, “about one in the - morning,” probably touched with liquor, as he is apt to be, meets on the - stairs, the cry ‘<i>Scélérat!</i>’ and also the snap of a pistol: which - latter flashes in the pan; disclosing to him, momentarily, a pair of - truculent saucer-eyes, swart grim-clenched countenance; recognisable as - that of our little fellow-lodger, Citoyen Amiral, formerly “a clerk in - the Lotteries!; Collot shouts <i>Murder</i>, with lungs fit to awaken all - the <i>Rue Favart;</i> Amiral snaps a second time; a second time flashes - in the pan; then darts up into his apartment; and, after there firing, - still with inadequate effect, one musket at himself and another at his - captor, is clutched and locked in Prison.<a href="#linknote-742" - name="linknoteref-742" id="linknoteref-742">[742]</a> An indignant little - man this Amiral, of Southern temper and complexion, of “considerable - muscular force.” He denies not that he meant to ‘purge France of a - tyrant;’ nay avows that he had an eye to the Incorruptible himself, but - took Collot as more convenient! - </p> - - <p> - Rumour enough hereupon; heaven-high congratulation of Collot, fraternal - embracing, at the Jacobins, and elsewhere. And yet, it would seem the - assassin-mood proves catching. Two days more, it is still but the 23d of - May, and towards nine in the evening, Cecile Renault, Paper-dealer’s - daughter, a young woman of soft blooming look, presents herself at the - Cabinet-maker’s in the Rue Saint-Honoré; desires to see Robespierre. - Robespierre cannot be seen: she grumbles irreverently. They lay hold of - her. She has left a basket in a shop hard by: in the basket are female - change of raiment and two knives! Poor Cecile, examined by Committee, - declares she ‘wanted to see what a tyrant was like:’ the change of - raiment was ‘for my own use in the place I am surely going - to.’—‘What place?’—‘Prison; and then the Guillotine,’ - answered she.—Such things come of Charlotte Corday; in a people - prone to imitation, and monomania! Swart choleric men try Charlotte’s - feat, and their pistols miss fire; soft blooming young women try it, and, - only half-resolute, leave their knives in a shop. - </p> - - <p> - O Pitt, and ye Faction of the Stranger, shall the Republic never have - rest; but be torn continually by baited springs, by wires of explosive - spring-guns? Swart Amiral, fair young Cecile, and all that knew them, and - many that did not know them, lie locked, waiting the scrutiny of - Tinville. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0148" id="link2HCH0148"></a> - Chapter 3.6.IV.<br/> - Mumbo-Jumbo. - </h3> - - <p> - But on the day they call <i>Décadi</i>, New-Sabbath, 20 <i>Prairial</i>, - 8th June by old style, what thing is this going forward, in the Jardin - National, whilom Tuileries Garden? - </p> - - <p> - All the world is there, in holydays clothes:<a href="#linknote-743" - name="linknoteref-743" id="linknoteref-743">[743]</a> foul linen went out - with the Hébertists; nay Robespierre, for one, would never once - countenance that; but went always elegant and frizzled, not without - vanity even,—and had his room hung round with seagreen Portraits - and Busts. In holyday clothes, we say, are the innumerable Citoyens and - Citoyennes: the weather is of the brightest; cheerful expectation lights - all countenances. Juryman Vilate gives breakfast to many a Deputy, in his - official Apartment, in the Pavillon <i>ci-devant</i> of Flora; rejoices - in the bright-looking multitudes, in the brightness of leafy June, in the - auspicious <i>Décadi</i>, or New-Sabbath. This day, if it please Heaven, - we are to have, on improved Anti-Chaumette principles: a New Religion. - </p> - - <p> - Catholicism being burned out, and Reason-worship guillotined, was there - not need of one? Incorruptible Robespierre, not unlike the Ancients, as - Legislator of a free people will now also be Priest and Prophet. He has - donned his sky-blue coat, made for the occasion; white silk waistcoat - broidered with silver, black silk breeches, white stockings, shoe-buckles - of gold. He is President of the Convention; he has made the Convention - <i>decree</i>, so they name it, <i>décréter</i> the “Existence of the - Supreme Being,” and likewise “<i>ce principe consolateur</i> of the - Immortality of the Soul.” These consolatory principles, the basis of - rational Republican Religion, are getting decreed; and here, on this - blessed <i>Décadi</i>, by help of Heaven and Painter David, is to be our - first act of worship. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - See, accordingly, how after Decree passed, and what has been called “the - scraggiest Prophetic Discourse ever uttered by man,”—Mahomet - Robespierre, in sky-blue coat and black breeches, frizzled and powdered - to perfection, bearing in his hand a bouquet of flowers and wheat-ears, - issues proudly from the Convention Hall; Convention following him, yet, - as is remarked, with an interval. Amphitheatre has been raised, or at - least <i>Monticule</i> or Elevation; hideous Statues of Atheism, Anarchy - and such like, thanks to Heaven and Painter David, strike abhorrence into - the heart. Unluckily however, our Monticule is too small. On the top of - it not half of us can stand; wherefore there arises indecent shoving, nay - treasonous irreverent growling. Peace, thou Bourdon de l’Oise; peace, or - it may be worse for thee! - </p> - - <p> - The seagreen Pontiff takes a torch, Painter David handing it; mouths some - other froth-rant of vocables, which happily one cannot hear; strides - resolutely forward, in sight of expectant France; sets his torch to - Atheism and Company, which are but made of pasteboard steeped in - turpentine. They burn up rapidly; and, from within, there rises “by - machinery” an incombustible Statue of Wisdom, which, by ill hap, gets - besmoked a little; but does stand there visible in as serene attitude as - it can. - </p> - - <p> - And then? Why, then, there is other Processioning, scraggy Discoursing, - and—this <i>is</i> our Feast of the <i>Être Suprême;</i> our new - Religion, better or worse, is come!—Look at it one moment, O - Reader, not two. The Shabbiest page of Human Annals: or is there, that - thou wottest of, one shabbier? Mumbo-Jumbo of the African woods to me - seems venerable beside this new Deity of Robespierre; for this is a - <i>conscious</i> Mumbo-Jumbo, and <i>knows</i> that he is machinery. O - seagreen Prophet, unhappiest of windbags blown nigh to bursting, what - distracted Chimera among realities are thou growing to! This then, this - common pitch-link for artificial fireworks of turpentine and pasteboard; - <i>this</i> is the miraculous Aaron’s Rod thou wilt stretch over a - hag-ridden hell-ridden France, and bid her plagues cease? Vanish, thou - and it!—‘<i>Avec ton Être Suprême</i>,’ said Billaud, ‘<i>tu - commences à m’embêter:</i> With thy <i>Être Suprême</i> thou beginnest to - be a bore to me.’<a href="#linknote-744" name="linknoteref-744" - id="linknoteref-744">[744]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Catherine Théot, on the other hand, “an ancient serving-maid seventy-nine - years of age,” inured to Prophecy and the Bastille from of old, sits, in - an upper room in the Rue-de-Contrescarpe, poring over the Book of - Revelations, with an eye to Robespierre; finds that this astonishing - thrice-potent Maximilien really is the Man spoken of by Prophets, who is - to make the Earth young again. With her sit devout old Marchionesses, - <i>ci-devant</i> honourable women; among whom Old-Constituent Dom Gerle, - with his addle head, cannot be wanting. They sit there, in the - Rue-de-Contrescarpe; in mysterious adoration: Mumbo is Mumbo, and - Robespierre is his Prophet. A conspicuous man this Robespierre. He has - his volunteer Bodyguard of <i>Tappe-durs</i>, let us say - <i>Strike-sharps</i>, fierce Patriots with feruled sticks; and Jacobins - kissing the hem of his garment. He enjoys the admiration of many, the - worship of some; and is well worth the wonder of one and all. - </p> - - <p> - The grand question and hope, however, is: Will not this Feast of the - Tuileries Mumbo-Jumbo be a sign perhaps that the Guillotine is to abate? - Far enough from that! Precisely on the second day after it, Couthon, one - of the “three shallow scoundrels,” gets himself lifted into the Tribune; - produces a bundle of papers. Couthon proposes that, as Plots still - abound, the <i>Law of the Suspect</i> shall have extension, and - Arrestment new vigour and facility. Further that, as in such case - business is like to be heavy, our Revolutionary Tribunal too shall have - extension; be divided, say, into Four Tribunals, each with its President, - each with its Fouquier or Substitute of Fouquier, all labouring at once, - and any remnant of shackle or dilatory formality be struck off: in this - way it may perhaps still overtake the work. Such is Couthon’s <i>Decree - of the Twenty-second Prairial</i>, famed in those times. At hearing of - which Decree the very Mountain gasped, awestruck; and one Ruamps ventured - to say that if it passed without adjournment and discussion, he, as one - Representative, ‘would blow his brains out.’ Vain saying! The - Incorruptible knit his brows; spoke a prophetic fateful word or two: the - <i>Law of Prairial</i> is Law; Ruamps glad to leave his rash brains where - they are. Death, then, and always Death! Even so. Fouquier is enlarging - his borders; making room for Batches of a Hundred and fifty at - once;—getting a Guillotine set up, of improved velocity, and to - work under cover, in the apartment close by. So that <i>Salut</i> itself - has to intervene, and forbid him: ‘Wilt thou <i>demoralise</i> the - Guillotine,’ asks Collot, reproachfully, ‘<i>démoraliser le - supplice!</i>’ - </p> - - <p> - There is indeed danger of that; were not the Republican faith great, it - were already done. See, for example, on the 17th of June, what a - <i>Batch</i>, Fifty-four at once! Swart Amiral is here, he of the pistol - that missed fire; young Cecile Renault, with her father, family, entire - kith and kin; the widow of d’Espréménil; old M. de Sombreuil of the - Invalides, with his Son,—poor old Sombreuil, seventy-three years - old, his Daughter saved him in September, and it was but for <i>this</i>. - Faction of the Stranger, fifty-four of them! In red shirts and smocks, as - Assassins and Faction of the Stranger, they flit along there; red baleful - Phantasmagory, towards the land of Phantoms. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile will not the people of the Place de la Révolution, the - inhabitants along the Rue Saint-Honoré, as these continual Tumbrils pass, - begin to look gloomy? Republicans too have bowels. The Guillotine is - shifted, then again shifted; finally set up at the remote extremity of - the South-East:<a href="#linknote-745" name="linknoteref-745" - id="linknoteref-745">[745]</a> Suburbs Saint-Antoine and Saint-Marceau it - is to be hoped, if they have bowels, have very tough ones. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0149" id="link2HCH0149"></a> - Chapter 3.6.V.<br/> - The Prisons. - </h3> - - <p> - It is time now, however, to cast a glance into the Prisons. When - Desmoulins moved for his Committee of Mercy, these Twelve Houses of - Arrest held five thousand persons. Continually arriving since then, there - have now accumulated twelve thousand. They are Ci-devants, Royalists; in - far greater part, they are Republicans, of various Girondin, Fayettish, - Un-Jacobin colour. Perhaps no human Habitation or Prison ever equalled in - squalor, in noisome horror, these Twelve Houses of Arrest. There exist - records of personal experience in them <i>Mémoires sur les Prisons;</i> - one of the strangest Chapters in the Biography of Man. - </p> - - <p> - Very singular to look into it: how a kind of order rises up in all - conditions of human existence; and wherever two or three are gathered - together, there are formed modes of existing together, habitudes, - observances, nay gracefulnesses, joys! Citoyen Coitant will explain fully - how our lean dinner, of herbs and carrion, was consumed not without - politeness and <i>place-aux-dames:</i> how Seigneur and Shoeblack, - Duchess and Doll-Tearsheet, flung pellmell into a heap, ranked themselves - according to method: at what hour “the Citoyennes took to their - needlework;” and we, yielding the chairs to them, endeavoured to talk - gallantly in a standing posture, or even to sing and harp more or less. - Jealousies, enmities are not wanting; nor flirtations, of an effective - character. - </p> - - <p> - Alas, by degrees, even needlework must cease: Plot in the Prison rises, - by Citoyen Laflotte and Preternatural Suspicion. Suspicious Municipality - snatches from us all implements; all money and possession, of means or - metal, is ruthlessly searched for, in pocket, in pillow and paillasse, - and snatched away; red-capped Commissaries entering every cell! - Indignation, temporary desperation, at robbery of its very thimble, fills - the gentle heart. Old Nuns shriek shrill discord; demand to be killed - forthwith. No help from shrieking! Better was that of the two shifty male - Citizens, who, eager to preserve an implement or two, were it but a - pipe-picker, or needle to darn hose with, determined to defend - themselves: by tobacco. Swift then, as your fell Red Caps are heard in - the Corridor rummaging and slamming, the two Citoyens light their pipes - and begin smoking. Thick darkness envelops them. The Red Nightcaps, - opening the cell, breathe but one mouthful; burst forth into chorus of - barking and coughing. ‘<i>Quoi, Messieurs</i>,’ cry the two Citoyens, - ‘You don’t smoke? Is the pipe disagreeable! <i>Est-ce que vous ne fumez - pas?</i>’ But the Red Nightcaps have fled, with slight search: ‘<i>Vous - n’aimez pas la pipe?</i>’ cry the Citoyens, as their door slams-to - again.<a href="#linknote-746" name="linknoteref-746" - id="linknoteref-746">[746]</a> My poor brother Citoyens, O surely, in a - reign of Brotherhood, you are not the two I would guillotine! - </p> - - <p> - Rigour grows, stiffens into horrid tyranny; Plot in the Prison getting - ever riper. This Plot in the Prison, as we said, is now the stereotype - formula of Tinville: against whomsoever he knows no crime, this is a - ready-made crime. His Judgment-bar has become unspeakable; a recognised - mockery; known only as the wicket one passes through, towards Death. His - Indictments are drawn out in blank; you insert the Names after. He has - his <i>moutons</i>, detestable traitor jackalls, who report and bear - witness; that they themselves may be allowed to live,—for a time. - His <i>Fournées</i>, says the reproachful Collot, “shall in no case - exceed three-score;” that is his <i>maximum</i>. Nightly come his - Tumbrils to the Luxembourg, with the fatal Roll-call; list of the - <i>Fournée</i> of tomorrow. Men rush towards the Grate; listen, if their - name be in it? One deep-drawn breath, when the name is not in: we live - still one day! And yet some score or scores of names were in. Quick - these; they clasp their loved ones to their heart, one last time; with - brief adieu, wet-eyed or dry-eyed, they mount, and are away. This night - to the Conciergerie; through the Palais misnamed <i>of Justice</i>, to - the Guillotine tomorrow. - </p> - - <p> - Recklessness, defiant levity, the Stoicism if not of strength yet of - weakness, has possessed all hearts. Weak women and <i>Ci-devants</i>, - their locks not yet made into blond perukes, their skins not yet tanned - into breeches, are accustomed to “act the Guillotine” by way of pastime. - In fantastic mummery, with towel-turbans, blanket-ermine, a mock - Sanhedrim of Judges sits, a mock Tinville pleads; a culprit is doomed, is - guillotined by the oversetting of two chairs. Sometimes we carry it - farther: Tinville himself, in his turn, is doomed, and not to the - Guillotine alone. With blackened face, hirsute, horned, a shaggy Satan - snatches him not unshrieking; shews him, with outstretched arm and voice, - the fire that is not quenched, the worm that dies not; the monotony of - Hell-pain, and the <i>What hour?</i> answered by, <i>It is - Eternity!</i><a href="#linknote-747" name="linknoteref-747" - id="linknoteref-747">[747]</a> - </p> - - <p> - And still the Prisons fill fuller, and still the Guillotine goes faster. - On all high roads march flights of Prisoners, wending towards Paris. Not - <i>Ci-devants</i> now; they, the noisy of them, are mown down; it is - Republicans now. Chained two and two they march; in exasperated moments, - singing their <i>Marseillaise</i>. A hundred and thirty-two men of Nantes - for instance, march towards Paris, in these same days: Republicans, or - say even Jacobins to the marrow of the bone; but Jacobins who had not - approved Noyading.<a href="#linknote-748" name="linknoteref-748" - id="linknoteref-748">[748]</a> <i>Vive la République</i> rises from them - in all streets of towns: they rest by night, in unutterable noisome dens, - crowded to choking; one or two dead on the morrow. They are wayworn, - weary of heart; can only shout: <i>Live the Republic;</i> we, as under - horrid enchantment, dying in this way for it! - </p> - - <p> - Some Four Hundred Priests, of whom also there is record, ride at anchor, - “in the roads of the Isle of Aix,” long months; looking out on misery, - vacuity, waste Sands of Oleron and the ever-moaning brine. Ragged, - sordid, hungry; wasted to shadows: eating their unclean ration on deck, - circularly, in parties of a dozen, with finger and thumb; beating their - scandalous clothes between two stones; choked in horrible miasmata, - closed under hatches, seventy of them in a berth, through night; so that - the “aged Priest is found lying dead in the morning, in the attitude of - prayer!”<a href="#linknote-749" name="linknoteref-749" - id="linknoteref-749">[749]</a>—How long, O Lord! - </p> - - <p> - Not forever; no. All Anarchy, all Evil, Injustice, is, by the nature of - it, <i>dragon’s-teeth;</i> suicidal, and cannot endure. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0150" id="link2HCH0150"></a> - Chapter 3.6.VI.<br/> - To Finish the Terror. - </h3> - - <p> - It is very remarkable, indeed, that since the <i>Être-Suprême</i> Feast, - and the sublime continued harangues on it, which Billaud feared would - become a bore to him, Robespierre has gone little to Committee; but held - himself apart, as if in a kind of pet. Nay they have made a Report on - that old Catherine Théot, and her Regenerative Man spoken of by the - Prophets; not in the best spirit. This Théot mystery they affect to - regard as a Plot; but have evidently introduced a vein of satire, of - irreverent banter, not against the Spinster alone, but obliquely against - her Regenerative Man! Barrère’s light pen was perhaps at the bottom of - it: read through the solemn snuffling organs of old Vadier of the - <i>Sûreté Générale</i>, the Théot Report had its effect; wrinkling the - general Republican visage into an iron grin. Ought these things to be? - </p> - - <p> - We note farther that among the Prisoners in the Twelve Houses of Arrest, - there is one whom we have seen before. Senhora Fontenai, <i>born</i> - Cabarus, the fair Proserpine whom Representative Tallien Pluto-like did - gather at Bourdeaux, not without effect on himself! Tallien is home, by - recall, long since, from Bourdeaux; and in the most alarming position. - Vain that he sounded, louder even than ever, the note of Jacobinism, to - hide past shortcomings: the Jacobins purged him out; two times has - Robespierre growled at him words of omen from the Convention Tribune. And - now his fair Cabarus, hit by denunciation, lies Arrested, Suspect, in - spite of all he could do!—Shut in horrid pinfold of death, the - Senhora smuggles out to her red-gloomy Tallien the most pressing - entreaties and conjurings: Save me; save thyself. Seest thou not that thy - own head is doomed; thou with a too fiery audacity; a Dantonist withal; - against whom lie grudges? Are ye not all doomed, as in the Polyphemus - Cavern; the fawningest slave of you will be but eaten last!—Tallien - feels with a shudder that it is true. Tallien has had words of omen, - Bourdon has had words, Fréron is hated and Barras: each man “feels his - head if it yet stick on his shoulders.” - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile Robespierre, we still observe, goes little to Convention, not - at all to Committee; speaks nothing except to his Jacobin House of Lords, - amid his bodyguard of <i>Tappe-durs</i>. These “forty-days,” for we are - now far in July, he has not shewed face in Committee; could only work - there by his three shallow scoundrels, and the terror there was of him. - The Incorruptible himself sits apart; or is seen stalking in solitary - places in the fields, with an intensely meditative air; some say, “with - eyes red-spotted,”<a href="#linknote-750" name="linknoteref-750" - id="linknoteref-750">[750]</a> fruit of extreme bile: the lamentablest - seagreen Chimera that walks the Earth that July! O hapless Chimera; for - thou too hadst a life, and a heart of flesh,—what is this the stern - gods, seeming to smile all the way, have led and let thee to! Art not - thou he who, few years ago, was a young Advocate of promise; and gave up - the Arras Judgeship rather than sentence one man to die?— - </p> - - <p> - What his thoughts might be? His plans for finishing the Terror? One knows - not. Dim vestiges there flit of Agrarian Law; a victorious Sansculottism - become Landed Proprietor; old Soldiers sitting in National Mansions, in - Hospital Palaces of Chambord and Chantilly; peace bought by victory; - breaches healed by Feast of <i>Être Suprême;</i>—and so, through - seas of blood, to Equality, Frugality, worksome Blessedness, Fraternity, - and Republic of the virtues! Blessed shore, of such a sea of Aristocrat - blood: but how to land on it? Through one last wave: blood of corrupt - Sansculottists; traitorous or semi-traitorous Conventionals, rebellious - Talliens, Billauds, to whom with my <i>Être Suprême</i> I have become a - bore; with my Apocalyptic Old Woman a laughing-stock!—So stalks he, - this poor Robespierre, like a seagreen ghost through the blooming July. - Vestiges of schemes flit dim. But <i>what</i> his schemes or his thoughts - were will never be known to man. - </p> - - <p> - New Catacombs, some say, are digging for a huge simultaneous butchery. - Convention to be butchered, down to the right pitch, by General Henriot - and Company: Jacobin House of Lords made dominant; and Robespierre - Dictator.<a href="#linknote-751" name="linknoteref-751" - id="linknoteref-751">[751]</a> There is actually, or else there is not - actually, a List made out; which the Hairdresser has got eye on, as he - frizzled the Incorruptible locks. Each man asks himself, Is it I? - </p> - - <p> - Nay, as Tradition and rumour of Anecdote still convey it, there was a - remarkable bachelor’s dinner one hot day at Barrère’s. For doubt not, O - Reader, this Barrère and others of them gave dinners; had “country-house - at Clichy,” with elegant enough sumptuosities, and pleasures - high-rouged!<a href="#linknote-752" name="linknoteref-752" - id="linknoteref-752">[752]</a> But at this dinner we speak of, the day - being so hot, it is said, the guests all stript their coats, and left - them in the drawing-room: whereupon Carnot glided out; driven by a - necessity, needing of all things <i>paper;</i> groped in Robespierre’s - pocket; found a list of Forty, his own name among them; and tarried not - at the wine-cup that day!—Ye must bestir yourselves, O Friends; ye - dull Frogs of the Marsh, mute ever since Girondism sank under, even ye - now must croak or die! Councils are held, with word and beck; nocturnal, - mysterious as death. Does not a feline Maximilien stalk there; voiceless - as yet; his green eyes red-spotted; back bent, and hair up? Rash Tallien, - with his rash temper and audacity of tongue; he shall <i>bell the - cat</i>. Fix a day; and be it soon, lest never! - </p> - - <p> - Lo, before the fixed day, on the day which they call Eighth of Thermidor, - 26th July 1794, Robespierre himself reappears in Convention; mounts to - the Tribune! The biliary face seems clouded with new gloom; judge whether - your Talliens, Bourdons listened with interest. It is a voice bodeful of - death or of life. Long-winded, unmelodious as the screech-owl’s, sounds - that prophetic voice: Degenerate condition of Republican spirit; corrupt - moderatism; <i>Sûreté, Salut</i> Committees themselves infected; - back-sliding on this hand and on that; I, Maximilien, alone left - incorruptible, ready to die at a moment’s warning. For all which what - remedy is there? The Guillotine; new vigour to the all-healing - Guillotine: death to traitors of every hue! So sings the prophetic voice; - into its Convention sounding-board. The old song this: but today, O - Heavens! has the sounding-board ceased to act? There is not resonance in - this Convention; there is, so to speak, a gasp of silence; nay a certain - grating of one knows not what!—Lecointre, our old Draper of - Versailles, in these questionable circumstances, sees nothing he can do - so safe as rise, “insidiously” or not insidiously, and move, according to - established wont, that the Robespierre Speech be “printed and sent to the - Departments.” Hark: gratings, even of dissonance! Honourable Members hint - dissonance; Committee-Members, inculpated in the Speech, utter - dissonance; demand “delay in printing.” Ever higher rises the note of - dissonance; inquiry is even made by Editor Fréron: ‘What has become of - the Liberty of Opinions in this Convention?’ The Order to print and - transmit, which had got passed, is rescinded. Robespierre, greener than - ever before, has to retire, foiled; discerning that it is mutiny, that - evil is nigh. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Mutiny is a thing of the fatallest nature in all enterprises whatsoever; - a thing so incalculable, swift-frightful; not to be dealt with in - <i>fright</i>. But mutiny in a Robespierre Convention, above - all,—it is like fire seen sputtering in the ship’s powder-room! One - death-defiant plunge at it, this moment, and you may still tread it out: - hesitate till next moment,—ship and ship’s captain, crew and cargo - are shivered far; the ship’s voyage has suddenly ended between sea and - sky. If Robespierre can, tonight, produce his Henriot and Company, and - get his work done by them, he and Sansculottism may still subsist some - time; if not, probably not. Oliver Cromwell, when that Agitator Serjeant - stept forth from the ranks, with plea of grievances, and began - gesticulating and demonstrating, as the mouthpiece of Thousands expectant - there,—discerned, with those truculent eyes of his, how the matter - lay; plucked a pistol from his holsters; blew Agitator and Agitation - instantly out. Noll was a man fit for such things. - </p> - - <p> - Robespierre, for his part, glides over at evening to his Jacobin House of - Lords; unfolds there, instead of some adequate resolution, his woes, his - uncommon virtues, incorruptibilities; then, secondly, his rejected - screech-owl Oration;—reads this latter over again; and declares - that he is ready to die at a moment’s warning. Thou shalt not die! shouts - Jacobinism from its thousand throats. ‘Robespierre, I will drink the - hemlock with thee,’ cries Painter David, ‘<i>Je boirai la cigue avec - toi;</i>’—a thing not essential to <i>do</i>, but which, in the - fire of the moment, can be said. - </p> - - <p> - Our Jacobin sounding-board, therefore, does act! Applauses heaven-high - cover the rejected Oration; fire-eyed fury lights all Jacobin features: - Insurrection a sacred duty; the Convention to be purged; Sovereign People - under Henriot and Municipality; we will make a new June-Second of it: to - your tents, O Israel! In this key pipes Jacobinism; in sheer tumult of - revolt. Let Tallien and all Opposition men make off. Collot d’Herbois, - though of the supreme <i>Salut</i>, and so lately near shot, is elbowed, - bullied; is glad to escape alive. Entering Committee-room of - <i>Salut</i>, all dishevelled, he finds sleek sombre Saint-Just there, - among the rest; who in his sleek way asks, ‘What is passing at the - Jacobins?’—‘What is passing?’ repeats Collot, in the unhistrionic - Cambyses’ vein: ‘What is passing? Nothing but revolt and horrors are - passing. Ye want our lives; ye shall not have them.’ Saint-Just stutters - at such Cambyses’-oratory; takes his hat to withdraw. That <i>Report</i> - he had been speaking of, Report on Republican Things in General we may - say, which is to be read in Convention on the morrow, he cannot shew it - them this moment: a friend has it; he, Saint-Just, will get it, and send - it, were he once home. Once home, he sends not it, but an answer that he - will not send it; that they will hear it from the Tribune tomorrow. - </p> - - <p> - Let every man, therefore, according to a well-known good-advice, “pray to - Heaven, and keep his powder dry!” Paris, on the morrow, will see a thing. - Swift scouts fly dim or invisible, all night, from <i>Sûreté</i> and - <i>Salut;</i> from conclave to conclave; from Mother Society to Townhall. - Sleep, can it fall on the eyes of Talliens, Frérons, Collots? Puissant - Henriot, Mayor Fleuriot, Judge Coffinhal, Procureur Payan, Robespierre - and all the Jacobins are getting ready. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0151" id="link2HCH0151"></a> - Chapter 3.6.VII.<br/> - Go Down to. - </h3> - - <p> - Tallien’s eyes beamed bright, on the morrow, Ninth of Thermidor “about - nine o’clock,” to see that the Convention had actually met. Paris is in - rumour: but at least we are met, in Legal Convention here; we have not - been snatched seriatim; treated with a <i>Pride’s Purge</i> at the door. - ‘<i>Allons</i>, brave men of the Plain,’ late Frogs of the Marsh! cried - Tallien with a squeeze of the hand, as he passed in; Saint-Just’s - sonorous organ being now audible from the Tribune, and the game of games - begun. - </p> - - <p> - Saint-Just is verily reading that Report of his; green Vengeance, in the - shape of Robespierre, watching nigh. Behold, however, Saint-Just has read - but few sentences, when interruption rises, rapid <i>crescendo;</i> when - Tallien starts to his feet, and Billaud, and this man starts and - that,—and Tallien, a second time, with his: ‘Citoyens, at the - Jacobins last night, I trembled for the Republic. I said to myself, if - the Convention dare not strike the Tyrant, then I myself dare; and with - this I will do it, if need be,’ said he, whisking out a clear-gleaming - Dagger, and brandishing it there: the Steel of Brutus, as we call it. - Whereat we all bellow, and brandish, impetuous acclaim. ‘Tyranny; - Dictatorship! Triumvirat!’ And the <i>Salut</i> Committee-men accuse, and - all men accuse, and uproar, and impetuously acclaim. And Saint-Just is - standing motionless, pale of face; Couthon ejaculating, ‘Triumvir?’ with - a look at his paralytic legs. And Robespierre is struggling to speak, but - President Thuriot is jingling the bell against him, but the Hall is - sounding against him like an Æolus-Hall: and Robespierre is mounting the - Tribune-steps and descending again; going and coming, like to choke with - rage, terror, desperation:—and mutiny is the order of the day!<a - href="#linknote-753" name="linknoteref-753" - id="linknoteref-753">[753]</a> - </p> - - <p> - O President Thuriot, thou that wert Elector Thuriot, and from the - Bastille battlements sawest Saint-Antoine rising like the Ocean-tide, and - hast seen much since, sawest thou ever the like of this? Jingle of bell, - which thou jinglest against Robespierre, is hardly audible amid the - Bedlam-storm; and men rage for life. ‘President of Assassins,’ shrieks - Robespierre, ‘I demand speech of thee for the last time!’ It cannot be - had. ‘To you, O virtuous men of the Plain,’ cries he, finding audience - one moment, ‘I appeal to you!’ The virtuous men of the Plain sit silent - as stones. And Thuriot’s bell jingles, and the Hall sounds like Aeolus’s - Hall. Robespierre’s frothing lips are grown “blue;” his tongue dry, - cleaving to the roof of his mouth. ‘The blood of Danton chokes him,’ cry - they. ‘Accusation! Decree of Accusation!’ Thuriot swiftly puts that - question. Accusation passes; the incorruptible Maximilien is decreed - Accused. - </p> - - <p> - ‘I demand to share my Brother’s fate, as I have striven to share his - virtues,’ cries Augustin, the Younger Robespierre: Augustin also is - decreed. And Couthon, and Saint-Just, and Lebas, they are all decreed; - and packed forth,—not without difficulty, the Ushers almost - trembling to obey. Triumvirat and Company are packed forth, into Salut - Committee-room; their tongue cleaving to the roof of their mouth. You - have but to summon the Municipality; to cashier Commandant Henriot, and - launch Arrest at him; to regular formalities; hand Tinville his victims. - It is noon: the Aeolus-Hall has delivered itself; blows now victorious, - harmonious, as one irresistible wind. - </p> - - <p> - And so the work is finished? One thinks so; and yet it is not so. Alas, - there is yet but the first-act finished; three or four other acts still - to come; and an uncertain catastrophe! A huge City holds in it so many - confusions: seven hundred thousand human heads; not one of which knows - what its neighbour is doing, nay not what itself is doing.—See, - accordingly, about three in the afternoon, Commandant Henriot, how - instead of sitting cashiered, arrested, he gallops along the Quais, - followed by Municipal Gendarmes, “trampling down several persons!” For - the Townhall sits deliberating, openly insurgent: Barriers to be shut; no - Gaoler to admit any Prisoner this day;—and Henriot is galloping - towards the Tuileries, to deliver Robespierre. On the Quai de la - Ferraillerie, a young Citoyen, walking with his wife, says aloud: - ‘Gendarmes, that man is not your Commandant; he is under arrest.’ The - Gendarmes strike down the young Citoyen with the flat of their swords.<a - href="#linknote-754" name="linknoteref-754" - id="linknoteref-754">[754]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Representatives themselves (as Merlin the Thionviller) who accost him, - this puissant Henriot flings into guardhouses. He bursts towards the - Tuileries Committee-room, ‘to speak with Robespierre:’ with difficulty, - the Ushers and Tuileries Gendarmes, earnestly pleading and drawing sabre, - seize this Henriot; get the Henriot Gendarmes persuaded not to fight; get - Robespierre and Company packed into hackney-coaches, sent off under - escort, to the Luxembourg and other Prisons. This then is the end? May - not an exhausted Convention adjourn now, for a little repose and - sustenance, “at five o’clock?” - </p> - - <p> - An exhausted Convention did it; and repented it. The end was not come; - only the end of the <i>second-act</i>. Hark, while exhausted - Representatives sit at victuals,—tocsin bursting from all steeples, - drums rolling, in the summer evening: Judge Coffinhal is galloping with - new Gendarmes to deliver Henriot from Tuileries Committee-room; and does - deliver him! Puissant Henriot vaults on horseback; sets to haranguing the - Tuileries Gendarmes; corrupts the Tuileries Gendarmes too; trots off with - them to Townhall. Alas, and Robespierre is not in Prison: the Gaoler - shewed his Municipal order, durst not on pain of his life, admit any - Prisoner; the Robespierre Hackney-coaches, in confused jangle and whirl - of uncertain Gendarmes, have floated safe—into the Townhall! There - sit Robespierre and Company, embraced by Municipals and Jacobins, in - sacred right of Insurrection; redacting Proclamations; sounding tocsins; - corresponding with Sections and Mother Society. Is not here a pretty - enough third-act of a <i>natural</i> Greek Drama; catastrophe more - uncertain than ever? - </p> - - <p> - The hasty Convention rushes together again, in the ominous nightfall: - President Collot, for the chair is his, enters with long strides, - paleness on his face; claps on his hat; says with solemn tone: ‘Citoyens, - armed Villains have beset the Committee-rooms, and got possession of - them. The hour is come, to die at our post!’ ‘<i>Oui</i>,’ answer one and - all: ‘We swear it!’ It is no rhodomontade, this time, but a sad fact and - necessity; unless we <i>do</i> at our posts, we must verily die! Swift - therefore, Robespierre, Henriot, the Municipality, are declared Rebels; - put <i>Hors la Loi</i>, Out of Law. Better still, we appoint Barras - Commandant of what Armed-Force is to be had; send Missionary - Representatives to all Sections and quarters, to preach, and raise force; - will die at least with harness on our back. - </p> - - <p> - What a distracted City; men riding and running, reporting and hearsaying; - the Hour clearly in travail,—child not to be <i>named</i> till - born! The poor Prisoners in the Luxembourg hear the rumour; tremble for a - new September. They see men making signals to them, on skylights and - roofs, apparently signals of hope; cannot in the least make out what it - is.<a href="#linknote-755" name="linknoteref-755" - id="linknoteref-755">[755]</a> We observe however, in the eventide, as - usual, the Death-tumbrils faring South-eastward, through Saint-Antoine, - towards their Barrier du Trône. Saint-Antoine’s tough bowels melt; - Saint-Antoine surrounds the Tumbrils; says, It shall not be. O Heavens, - why should it! Henriot and Gendarmes, scouring the streets that way, - bellow, with waved sabres, that it must. Quit hope, ye poor Doomed! The - Tumbrils move on. - </p> - - <p> - But in this set of Tumbrils there are two other things notable: one - notable person; and one want of a notable person. The notable person is - Lieutenant-General Loiserolles, a nobleman by birth, and by nature; - laying down his life here for his son. In the Prison of Saint-Lazare, the - night before last, hurrying to the Grate to hear the Death-list read, he - caught the name of his son. The son was asleep at the moment. ‘I am - Loiserolles,’ cried the old man: at Tinville’s bar, an error in the - Christian name is little; small objection was made. The want of the - notable person, again, is that of Deputy Paine! Paine has sat in the - Luxembourg since January; and seemed forgotten; but Fouquier had pricked - him at last. The Turnkey, List in hand, is marking with chalk the outer - doors of tomorrow’s <i>Fournée</i>. Paine’s outer door happened to be - open, turned back on the wall; the Turnkey marked it on the side next - him, and hurried on: another Turnkey came, and shut it; no chalk-mark now - visible, the <i>Fournée</i> went without Paine. Paine’s life lay not - there.— - </p> - - <p> - Our fifth-act, of this natural Greek Drama, with its natural unities, can - only be painted in gross; somewhat as that antique Painter, driven - desperate, did the <i>foam.</i> For through this blessed July night, - there is clangour, confusion very great, of marching troops; of Sections - going this way, Sections going that; of Missionary Representatives - reading Proclamations by torchlight; Missionary Legendre, who has raised - force somewhere, emptying out the Jacobins, and flinging their key on the - Convention table: ‘I have locked their door; it shall be Virtue that - re-opens it.’ Paris, we say, is set against itself, rushing confused, as - Ocean-currents do; a huge Mahlstrom, sounding there, under cloud of - night. Convention sits permanent on this hand; Municipality most - permanent on that. The poor Prisoners hear tocsin and rumour; strive to - bethink them of the signals apparently of hope. Meek continual Twilight - streaming up, which will be Dawn and a Tomorrow, silvers the Northern hem - of Night; it wends and wends there, that meek brightness, like a silent - prophecy, along the great Ring-Dial of the Heaven. So still, eternal! And - on Earth all is confused shadow and conflict; dissidence, tumultuous - gloom and glare; and Destiny as yet shakes her doubtful urn. - </p> - - <p> - About three in the morning, the dissident Armed-Forces have <i>met</i>. - Henriot’s Armed Force stood ranked in the Place de Grève; and now - Barras’s, which he has recruited, arrives there; and they front each - other, cannon bristling against cannon. Citoyens! cries the voice of - Discretion, loudly enough, Before coming to bloodshed, to endless - civil-war, hear the Convention Decree read: “Robespierre and all rebels - Out of Law!”—Out of Law? There is terror in the sound: unarmed - Citoyens disperse rapidly home; Municipal Cannoneers range themselves on - the Convention side, with shouting. At which shout, Henriot descends from - his upper room, far gone in drink as some say; finds his Place de Grève - empty; the cannons’ mouth turned <i>towards</i> him; and, on the - whole,—that it is now the catastrophe! - </p> - - <p> - Stumbling in again, the wretched drunk-sobered Henriot announces: ‘All is - lost!’ ‘<i>Misérable!</i> it is thou that hast lost it,’ cry they: and - fling him, or else he flings himself, out of window: far enough down; - into masonwork and horror of cesspool; not into death but worse. Augustin - Robespierre follows him; with the like fate. Saint-Just called on Lebas - to kill him: who would not. Couthon crept under a table; attempting to - kill himself; not doing it.—On entering that Sanhedrim of - Insurrection, we find all as good as extinct; undone, ready for seizure. - Robespierre was sitting on a chair, with pistol shot blown through, not - his head, but his under jaw; the suicidal hand had failed.<a - href="#linknote-756" name="linknoteref-756" - id="linknoteref-756">[756]</a> With prompt zeal, not without trouble, we - gather these wretched Conspirators; fish up even Henriot and Augustin, - bleeding and foul; pack them all, rudely enough, into carts; and shall, - before sunrise, have them safe under lock and key. Amid shoutings and - embracings. - </p> - - <p> - Robespierre lay in an anteroom of the Convention Hall, while his - Prison-escort was getting ready; the mangled jaw bound up rudely with - bloody linen: a spectacle to men. He lies stretched on a table, a - deal-box his pillow; the sheath of the pistol is still clenched - convulsively in his hand. Men bully him, insult him: his eyes still - indicate intelligence; he speaks no word. “He had on the sky-blue coat he - had got made for the Feast of the <i>Être Suprême</i>”—O reader, - can thy hard heart hold out against that? His trousers were nankeen; the - stockings had fallen down over the ankles. He spake no word more in this - world. - </p> - - <p> - And so, at six in the morning, a victorious Convention adjourns. Report - flies over Paris as on golden wings; penetrates the Prisons; irradiates - the faces of those that were ready to perish: turnkeys and - <i>moutons</i>, fallen from their high estate, look mute and blue. It is - the 28th day of July, called 10th of Thermidor, year 1794. - </p> - - <p> - Fouquier had but to identify; his Prisoners being already Out of Law. At - four in the afternoon, never before were the streets of Paris seen so - crowded. From the Palais de Justice to the Place de la Révolution, for - <i>thither</i> again go the Tumbrils this time, it is one dense stirring - mass; all windows crammed; the very roofs and ridge-tiles budding forth - human Curiosity, in strange gladness. The Death-tumbrils, with their - motley Batch of Outlaws, some Twenty-three or so, from Maximilien to - Mayor Fleuriot and Simon the Cordwainer, roll on. All eyes are on - Robespierre’s Tumbril, where he, his jaw bound in dirty linen, with his - half-dead Brother, and half-dead Henriot, lie shattered; their “seventeen - hours” of agony about to end. The Gendarmes point their swords at him, to - shew the people which is he. A woman springs on the Tumbril; clutching - the side of it with one hand; waving the other Sibyl-like; and exclaims: - ‘The death of thee gladdens my very heart, <i>m’enivre de joie;</i>’ - Robespierre opened his eyes; ‘<i>Scélérat</i>, go down to Hell, with the - curses of all wives and mothers!’—At the foot of the scaffold, they - stretched him on the ground till his turn came. Lifted aloft, his eyes - again opened; caught the bloody axe. Samson wrenched the coat off him; - wrenched the dirty linen from his jaw: the jaw fell powerless, there - burst from him a cry;—hideous to hear and see. Samson, thou canst - not be too quick! - </p> - - <p> - Samson’s work done, there burst forth shout on shout of applause. Shout, - which prolongs itself not only over Paris, but over France, but over - Europe, and down to this Generation. Deservedly, and also undeservedly. O - unhappiest Advocate of Arras, wert thou worse than other Advocates? - Stricter man, according to his Formula, to his Credo and his Cant, of - probities, benevolences, pleasures-of-virtue, and such like, lived not in - that age. A man fitted, in some luckier settled age, to have become one - of those incorruptible barren Pattern-Figures, and have had - marble-tablets and funeral-sermons! His poor landlord, the Cabinetmaker - in the Rue Saint-Honoré, loved him; his Brother died for him. May God be - merciful to him, and to us. - </p> - - <p> - This is end of the Reign of Terror; new glorious <i>Revolution</i> named - <i>of Thermidor;</i> of Thermidor 9th, year 2; which being interpreted - into old slave-style means 27th of July, 1794. Terror is ended; and death - in the Place de la Révolution, were the “<i>Tail</i> of Robespierre” once - executed; which service Fouquier in large Batches is swiftly managing. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2H_4_0177" id="link2H_4_0177"></a> - BOOK 3.VII.<br/> - VENDÉMIAIRE - </h3> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0152" id="link2HCH0152"></a> - Chapter 3.7.I.<br/> - Decadent. - </h3> - - <p> - How little did any one suppose that here was the end not of Robespierre - only, but of the Revolution System itself! Least of all did the mutinying - Committee-men suppose it; who had mutinied with no view whatever except - to continue the National Regeneration with their own heads on their - shoulders. And yet so it verily was. The insignificant stone they had - struck out, so insignificant anywhere else, proved to be the Keystone: - the whole arch-work and edifice of Sansculottism began to loosen, to - crack, to yawn; and tumbled, piecemeal, with considerable rapidity, - plunge after plunge; till the Abyss had swallowed it all, and in this - upper world Sansculottism was no more. - </p> - - <p> - For despicable as Robespierre himself might be, the death of Robespierre - was a signal at which great multitudes of men, struck dumb with terror - heretofore, rose out of their hiding places: and, as it were, saw one - another, how multitudinous they were; and began speaking and complaining. - They are countable by the thousand and the million; who have suffered - cruel wrong. Ever louder rises the plaint of such a multitude; into a - universal sound, into a universal continuous peal, of what they call - Public Opinion. Camille had demanded a “Committee of Mercy,” and could - not get it; but now the whole nation resolves itself into a Committee of - Mercy: the Nation has tried Sansculottism, and is weary of it. Force of - Public Opinion! What King or Convention can withstand it? You in vain - struggle: the thing that is rejected as “calumnious” today must pass as - veracious with triumph another day: gods and men have declared that - Sansculottism cannot be. Sansculottism, on that Ninth night of Thermidor - suicidally “fractured its under jaw;” and lies writhing, never to rise - more. - </p> - - <p> - Through the next fifteenth months, it is what we may call the death-agony - of Sansculottism. Sansculottism, Anarchy of the Jean-Jacques Evangel, - having now got deep enough, is to perish in a new singular system of - Culottism and Arrangement. For Arrangement is indispensable to man; - Arrangement, were it grounded only on that old primary Evangel of Force, - with Sceptre in the shape of Hammer. Be there method, be there order, cry - all men; were it that of the Drill-serjeant! More tolerable is the - drilled Bayonet-rank, than that undrilled Guillotine, incalculable as the - wind.—How Sansculottism, writhing in death-throes, strove some - twice, or even three times, to get on its feet again; but fell always, - and was flung resupine, the next instant; and finally breathed out the - life of it, and stirred no more: this we are now, from a due distance, - with due brevity, to glance at; and then—O Reader!—Courage, I - see land! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Two of the first acts of the Convention, very natural for it after this - Thermidor, are to be specified here: the first is renewal of the - Governing Committees. Both <i>Sûreté Générale</i> and <i>Salut - Public</i>, thinned by the Guillotine, need filling up: we naturally fill - them up with Talliens, Frérons, victorious Thermidorian men. Still more - to the purpose, we appoint that they shall, as Law directs, not in name - only but in deed, be renewed and changed from period to period; a fourth - part of them going out monthly. The Convention will no more lie under - bondage of Committees, under terror of death; but be a free Convention; - free to follow its own judgment, and the Force of Public Opinion. Not - less natural is it to enact that Prisoners and Persons under Accusation - shall have right to demand some “Writ of Accusation,” and see clearly - what they are accused of. Very natural acts: the harbingers of hundreds - not less so. - </p> - - <p> - For now Fouquier’s trade, shackled by Writ of Accusation, and legal - proof, is as good as gone; effectual only against Robespierre’s Tail. The - Prisons give up their Suspects; emit them faster and faster. The - Committees see themselves besieged with Prisoners’ friends; complain that - they are hindered in their work: it is as with men rushing out of a - crowded place; and obstructing one another. Turned are the tables: - Prisoners pouring out in floods; Jailors, <i>Moutons</i> and the Tail of - Robespierre going now whither they were wont to send!—The Hundred - and thirty-two Nantese Republicans, whom we saw marching in irons, have - arrived; shrunk to Ninety-four, the fifth man of them choked by the road. - They arrive: and suddenly find themselves not pleaders for life, but - denouncers to death. Their Trial is for acquittal, and more. As the voice - of a trumpet, their testimony sounds far and wide, mere atrocities of a - Reign of Terror. For a space of nineteen days; with all solemnity and - publicity. Representative Carrier, Company of Marat; Noyadings, Loire - Marriages, things done in darkness, come forth into light: clear is the - voice of these poor resuscitated Nantese; and Journals and Speech and - universal Committee of Mercy reverberate it loud enough, into all ears - and hearts. Deputation arrives from Arras; denouncing the atrocities of - Representative Lebon. A tamed Convention loves its own life: yet what - help? Representative Lebon, Representative Carrier must wend towards the - Revolutionary Tribunal; struggle and delay as we will, the cry of a - Nation pursues them louder and louder. Them also Tinville must - abolish;—if indeed Tinville himself be not abolished. - </p> - - <p> - We must note moreover the decrepit condition into which a once omnipotent - Mother Society has fallen. Legendre flung her keys on the Convention - table, that Thermidor night; her President was guillotined with - Robespierre. The once mighty Mother came, some time after, with a subdued - countenance, begging back her keys: the keys were restored her; but the - strength could not be restored her; the strength had departed forever. - Alas, one’s day is done. Vain that the Tribune in mid air sounds as of - old: to the general ear it has become a horror, and even a weariness. By - and by, Affiliation is prohibited: the mighty Mother sees herself - suddenly childless; mourns, as so hoarse a Rachel may. - </p> - - <p> - The Revolutionary Committees, without Suspects to prey upon, perish fast; - as it were of famine. In Paris the whole Forty-eight of them are reduced - to Twelve, their <i>Forty sous</i> are abolished: yet a little while, and - Revolutionary Committees are no more. <i>Maximum</i> will be abolished; - let Sansculottism find food where it can.<a href="#linknote-757" - name="linknoteref-757" id="linknoteref-757">[757]</a> Neither is there - now any Municipality; any centre at the Townhall. Mayor Fleuriot and - Company perished; whom we shall not be in haste to replace. The Townhall - remains in a broken submissive state; knows not well what it is growing - to; knows only that it is grown weak, and must obey. What if we should - split Paris into, say, a Dozen separate Municipalities; incapable of - concert! The Sections were thus rendered safe to act with:—or - indeed might not the Sections themselves be abolished? You had then - merely your Twelve manageable pacific Townships, without centre or - subdivision;<a href="#linknote-758" name="linknoteref-758" - id="linknoteref-758">[758]</a> and sacred right of Insurrection fell into - abeyance! - </p> - - <p> - So much is getting abolished; fleeting swiftly into the Inane. For the - Press speaks, and the human tongue; Journals, heavy and light, in - Philippic and Burlesque: a renegade Fréron, a renegade Prudhomme, loud - they as ever, only the contrary way. And <i>Ci-devants</i> show - themselves, almost parade themselves; resuscitated as from death-sleep; - publish what death-pains they have had. The very Frogs of the Marsh croak - with emphasis. Your protesting Seventy-three shall, with a struggle, be - emitted out of Prison, back to their seats; your Louvets, Isnards, - Lanjuinais, and wrecks of Girondism, recalled from their haylofts, and - caves in Switzerland, will resume their place in the Convention:<a - href="#linknote-759" name="linknoteref-759" - id="linknoteref-759">[759]</a> natural foes of Terror! - </p> - - <p> - Thermidorian Talliens, and mere foes of Terror, rule in this Convention, - and out of it. The compressed Mountain shrinks silent more and more. - Moderatism rises louder and louder: not as a tempest, with threatenings; - say rather, as the rushing of a mighty organ-blast, and melodious - deafening Force of Public Opinion, from the Twenty-five million windpipes - of a Nation all in Committee of Mercy: which how shall any detached body - of individuals withstand? - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0153" id="link2HCH0153"></a> - Chapter 3.7.II.<br/> - La Cabarus. - </h3> - - <p> - How, above all, shall a poor National Convention, withstand it? In this - poor National Convention, broken, bewildered by long terror, - perturbations, and guillotinement, there is no Pilot, there is not now - even a Danton, who could undertake to steer you anywhither, in such press - of weather. The utmost a bewildered Convention can do, is to veer, and - trim, and try to keep itself steady: and rush, undrowned, before the - wind. Needless to struggle; to fling helm a-lee, and make ’<i>bout - ship!</i> A bewildered Convention sails not in the teeth of the wind; but - is rapidly blown round again. So strong is the wind, we say; and so - changed; blowing fresher and fresher, as from the sweet South-West; your - devastating North-Easters, and wild tornado-gusts of Terror, blown - utterly out! All Sansculottic things are passing away; all things are - becoming Culottic. - </p> - - <p> - Do but look at the cut of clothes; that light visible Result, significant - of a thousand things which are not so visible. In winter 1793, men went - in red nightcaps; Municipals themselves in <i>sabots;</i> the very - Citoyennes had to petition against such headgear. But now in this winter - 1794, where is the red nightcap? With the thing beyond the Flood. Your - monied Citoyen ponders in what elegantest style he shall dress himself: - whether he shall not even dress himself as the Free Peoples of Antiquity. - The more adventurous Citoyenne has already done it. Behold her, that - beautiful adventurous Citoyenne: in costume of the Ancient Greeks, such - Greek as Painter David could teach; her sweeping tresses snooded by - glittering antique fillet; bright-eyed tunic of the Greek women; her - little feet naked, as in Antique Statues, with mere sandals, and - winding-strings of riband,—defying the frost! - </p> - - <p> - There is such an effervescence of Luxury. For your Emigrant - <i>Ci-devants</i> carried not their mansions and furnitures out of the - country with them; but left them standing here: and in the swift changes - of property, what with money coined on the Place de la Révolution, what - with Army-furnishings, sales of Emigrant Domain and Church Lands and - King’s Lands, and then with the Aladdin’s-lamp of Agio in a time of - Paper-money, such mansions have found new occupants. Old wine, drawn from - <i>Ci-devant</i> bottles, descends new throats. Paris has swept herself, - relighted herself; Salons, Soupers not Fraternal, beam once more with - suitable effulgence, very singular in colour. The fair Cabarus is come - out of Prison; wedded to her red-gloomy Dis, whom they say she treats too - loftily: fair Cabarus gives the most brilliant soirées. Round her is - gathered a new Republican Army, of Citoyennes in sandals; - <i>Ci-devants</i> or other: what remnants soever of the old grace - survive, are rallied there. At her right-hand, in this cause, labours - fair Josephine the Widow Beauharnais, though in straitened circumstances: - intent, both of them, to blandish down the grimness of Republican - austerity, and recivilise mankind. - </p> - - <p> - Recivilise, as of old they were civilised: by witchery of the Orphic - fiddle-bow, and Euterpean rhythm; by the Graces, by the Smiles! - Thermidorian Deputies are there in those soirées; Editor Fréron, - <i>Orateur du Peuple;</i> Barras, who has known other dances than the - Carmagnole. Grim Generals of the Republic are there; in enormous - horse-collar neckcloth, good against sabre-cuts; the hair gathered all - into one knot, “flowing down behind, fixed with a comb.” Among which - latter do we not recognise, once more, the little bronzed-complexioned - Artillery-Officer of Toulon, home from the Italian Wars! Grim enough; of - lean, almost cruel aspect: for he has been in trouble, in ill health; - also in ill favour, as a man promoted, deservingly or not, by the - Terrorists and Robespierre Junior. But does not Barras know him? Will not - Barras speak a word for him? Yes,—if at any time it will serve - Barras so to do. Somewhat forlorn of fortune, for the present, stands - that Artillery-Officer; looks, with those deep earnest eyes of his, into - a future as waste as the most. Taciturn; yet with the strangest - utterances in him, if you awaken him, which smite home, like light or - lightning:—on the whole, rather dangerous? A “dissociable” man? - Dissociable enough; a natural terror and horror to all Phantasms, being - himself of the genus Reality! He stands here, without work or outlook, in - this forsaken manner;—glances nevertheless, it would seem, at the - kind glance of Josephine Beauharnais; and, for the rest, with severe - countenance, with open eyes and closed lips, waits what will betide. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - That the Balls, therefore, have a new figure this winter, we can see. Not - Carmagnoles, rude “whirlblasts of rags,” as Mercier called them - “precursors of storm and destruction:” no, soft Ionic motions; fit for - the light sandal, and antique Grecian tunic! Efflorescence of Luxury has - come out: for men have wealth; nay new-got wealth; and under the Terror - you durst not dance except in rags. Among the innumerable kinds of Balls, - let the hasty reader mark only this single one: the kind they call Victim - Balls, <i>Bals à Victime</i>. The dancers, in choice costume, have all - crape round the left arm: to be admitted, it needs that you be a - <i>Victime;</i> that you have lost a relative under the Terror. Peace to - the Dead; let us <i>dance</i> to their memory! For in all ways one must - dance. - </p> - - <p> - It is very remarkable, according to Mercier, under what varieties of - figure this great business of dancing goes on. “The women,” says he, “are - Nymphs, Sultanas; sometimes Minervas, Junos, even Dianas. In - light-unerring gyrations they swim there; with such earnestness of - purpose; with perfect silence, so absorbed are they. What is singular,” - continues he, “the onlookers are as it were mingled with the dancers; - form as it were a circumambient element round the different - contre-dances, yet without deranging them. It is rare, in fact, that a - Sultana in such circumstances experience the smallest collision. Her - pretty foot darts down, an inch from mine; she is off again; she is as a - flash of light: but soon the measure recalls her to the point she set out - from. Like a glittering comet she travels her eclipse, revolving on - herself, as by a double effect of gravitation and attraction.”<a - href="#linknote-760" name="linknoteref-760" - id="linknoteref-760">[760]</a> Looking forward a little way, into Time, - the same Mercier discerns <i>Merveilleuses</i> in “flesh-coloured - drawers” with gold circlets; mere dancing Houris of an artificial - Mahomet’s-Paradise: much too Mahometan. Montgaillard, with his splenetic - eye, notes a no less strange thing; that every fashionable Citoyenne you - meet is in an interesting situation. Good Heavens, <i>every?</i> Mere - pillows and stuffing! adds the acrid man;—such, in a time of - depopulation by war and guillotine, being the fashion.<a - href="#linknote-761" name="linknoteref-761" - id="linknoteref-761">[761]</a> No further seek its merits to disclose. - </p> - - <p> - Behold also instead of the old grim <i>Tappe-durs</i> of Robespierre, - what new street-groups are these? Young men habited not in black-shag - Carmagnole spencer, but in superfine <i>habit carré</i> or spencer with - rectangular tail appended to it; “square-tailed coat,” with elegant - antiguillotinish specialty of collar; “the hair plaited at the temples,” - and knotted back, long-flowing, in military wise: young men of what they - call the <i>Muscadin</i> or Dandy species! Fréron, in his fondness names - them <i>Jeunesse Dorée</i>, Golden, or Gilt Youth. They have come out, - these Gilt Youths, in a kind of resuscitated state; they wear crape round - the left arm, such of them as were <i>Victims</i>. More they carry clubs - loaded with lead; in an angry manner: any <i>Tappe-dur</i> or remnant of - Jacobinism they may fall in with, shall fare the worse. They have - suffered much: their friends guillotined; their pleasures, frolics, - superfine collars ruthlessly repressed: “ware now the base Red Nightcaps - who did it! Fair Cabarus and the Army of Greek sandals smile approval. In - the Théâtre Feydeau, young Valour in square-tailed coat eyes Beauty in - Greek sandals, and kindles by her glances: Down with Jacobinism! No - Jacobin hymn or demonstration, only Thermidorian ones, shall be permitted - here: we beat down Jacobinism with clubs loaded with lead. - </p> - - <p> - But let any one who has examined the Dandy nature, how petulant it is, - especially in the gregarious state, think what an element, in sacred - right of insurrection, this Gilt Youth was! Broils and battery; war - without truce or measure! Hateful is Sansculottism, as Death and Night. - For indeed is not the Dandy <i>culottic</i>, habilatory, by law of - existence; “a cloth-animal: one that lives, moves, and has his being in - cloth?”— - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - So goes it, waltzing, bickering; fair Cabarus, by Orphic witchery, - struggling to recivilise mankind. Not unsuccessfully, we hear. What - utmost Republican grimness can resist Greek sandals, in Ionic motion, the - very toes covered with gold rings?<a href="#linknote-762" - name="linknoteref-762" id="linknoteref-762">[762]</a> By degrees the - indisputablest new-politeness rises; grows, with vigour. And yet, - whether, even to this day, that inexpressible tone of society known under - the old Kings, when Sin had “lost all its deformity” (with or without - advantage to us), and airy Nothing had obtained such a local habitation - and establishment as she never had,—be recovered? Or even, whether - it be not lost beyond recovery?<a href="#linknote-763" - name="linknoteref-763" id="linknoteref-763">[763]</a>—Either way, - the world must contrive to struggle on. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0154" id="link2HCH0154"></a> - Chapter 3.7.III.<br/> - Quiberon. - </h3> - - <p> - But indeed do not these long-flowing hair-queues of a <i>Jeunesse - Dorée</i> in semi-military costume betoken, unconsciously, another still - more important tendency? The Republic, abhorrent of her Guillotine, loves - her Army. - </p> - - <p> - And with cause. For, surely, if good fighting be a kind of honour, as it - is, in its season; and be with the vulgar of men, even the chief kind of - honour, then here is good fighting, in good season, if there ever was. - These Sons of the Republic, they rose, in mad wrath, to deliver her from - Slavery and Cimmeria. And have they not done it? Through Maritime Alps, - through gorges of Pyrenees, through Low Countries, Northward along the - Rhine-valley, far is Cimmeria hurled back from the sacred Motherland. - Fierce as fire, they have carried her Tricolor over the faces of all her - enemies;—over scarped heights, over cannon-batteries; down, as with - the Vengeur, into the dead deep sea. She has “Eleven hundred thousand - fighters on foot,” this Republic: “At one particular moment she had,” or - supposed she had, “seventeen hundred thousand.”<a href="#linknote-764" - name="linknoteref-764" id="linknoteref-764">[764]</a> Like a ring of - lightning, they, volleying and <i>ça-ira</i>-ing, begirdle her from shore - to shore. Cimmerian Coalition of Despots recoils; smitten with - astonishment, and strange pangs. - </p> - - <p> - Such a fire is in these Gaelic Republican men; high-blazing; which no - Coalition can withstand! Not scutcheons, with four degrees of nobility; - but <i>ci-devant</i> Sergeants, who have had to clutch Generalship out of - the cannon’s throat, a Pichegru, a Jourdan, a Hoche, lead them on. They - have bread, they have iron; “with bread and iron you can get to - China.”—See Pichegru’s soldiers, this hard winter, in their looped - and windowed destitution, in their “straw-rope shoes and cloaks of - bass-mat,” how they overrun Holland, like a demon-host, the ice having - bridged all waters; and rush shouting from victory to victory! Ships in - the Texel are taken by huzzars on horseback: fled is York; fled is the - Stadtholder, glad to escape to England, and leave Holland to - fraternise.<a href="#linknote-765" name="linknoteref-765" - id="linknoteref-765">[765]</a> Such a Gaelic fire, we say, blazes in this - People, like the conflagration of grass and dry-jungle; which no mortal - can withstand—for the moment. - </p> - - <p> - And even so it will blaze and run, scorching all things; and, from Cadiz - to Archangel, mad Sansculottism, drilled now into Soldiership, led on by - some “armed Soldier of Democracy” (say, that Monosyllabic - Artillery-Officer), will set its foot cruelly on the necks of its - enemies; and its shouting and their shrieking shall fill the - world!—Rash Coalised Kings, such a fire have ye kindled; yourselves - fireless, <i>your</i> fighters animated only by drill-serjeants, messroom - moralities, and the drummer’s cat! However, it is begun, and will not - end: not for a matter of twenty years. So long, this Gaelic fire, through - its successive changes of colour and character, will blaze over the face - of Europe, and afflict the scorch all men:—till it provoke all men; - till it kindle another kind of fire, the Teutonic kind, namely; and be - swallowed up, so to speak, in a day! For there is a fire comparable to - the burning of dry-jungle and grass; most sudden, high-blazing: and - another fire which we liken to the burning of coal, or even of anthracite - coal; difficult to kindle, but then which nothing will put out. The ready - Gaelic fire, we can remark further, and remark not in Pichegrus only, but - in innumerable Voltaires, Racines, Laplaces, no less; for a man, whether - he fight, or sing, or think, will remain the same unity of a - man,—is admirable for roasting eggs, in every conceivable sense. - The Teutonic anthracite again, as we see in Luthers, Leibnitzes, - Shakespeares, is preferable for smelting metals. How happy is our Europe - that has both kinds!— - </p> - - <p> - But be this as it may, the Republic is clearly triumphing. In the spring - of the year Mentz Town again sees itself besieged; will again change - master: did not Merlin the Thionviller, “with wild beard and look,” say - it was not for the last time they saw him there? The Elector of Mentz - circulates among his brother Potentates this pertinent query, Were it not - advisable to treat of Peace? Yes! answers many an Elector from the bottom - of his heart. But, on the other hand, Austria hesitates; finally refuses, - being subsidied by Pitt. As to Pitt, whoever hesitate, he, suspending his - Habeas-corpus, suspending his Cash-payments, stands - inflexible,—spite of foreign reverses; spite of domestic obstacles, - of Scotch National Conventions and English Friends of the People, whom he - is obliged to arraign, to hang, or even to see acquitted with jubilee: a - lean inflexible man. The Majesty of Spain, as we predicted, makes Peace; - also the Majesty of Prussia: and there is a Treaty of Bâle.<a - href="#linknote-766" name="linknoteref-766" - id="linknoteref-766">[766]</a> Treaty with black Anarchists and - Regicides! Alas, what help? You cannot hang this Anarchy; it is like to - hang you: you must needs treat with it. - </p> - - <p> - Likewise, General Hoche has even succeeded in pacificating La Vendée. - Rogue Rossignol and his “Infernal Columns” have vanished: by firmness and - justice, by sagacity and industry, General Hoche has done it. Taking - “Movable Columns,” not infernal; girdling-in the Country; pardoning the - submissive, cutting down the resistive, limb after limb of the Revolt is - brought under. La Rochejacquelin, last of our Nobles, fell in battle; - Stofflet himself makes terms; Georges-Cadoudal is back to Brittany, among - his Chouans: the frightful gangrene of La Vendée seems veritably - extirpated. It has cost, as they reckon in round numbers, the lives of a - Hundred Thousand fellow-mortals; with noyadings, conflagratings by - infernal column, which defy arithmetic. This is the La Vendée War.<a - href="#linknote-767" name="linknoteref-767" - id="linknoteref-767">[767]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Nay in few months, it does burst up once more, but once only:—blown - upon by Pitt, by our Ci-devant Puisaye of Calvados, and others. In the - month of July 1795, English Ships will ride in Quiberon roads. There will - be debarkation of chivalrous Ci-devants, of volunteer - Prisoners-of-war—eager to desert; of fire-arms, Proclamations, - clothes-chests, Royalists and specie. Whereupon also, on the Republican - side, there will be rapid stand-to-arms; with ambuscade marchings by - Quiberon beach, at midnight; storming of Fort Penthievre; war-thunder - mingling with the roar of the nightly main; and such a morning light as - has seldom dawned; debarkation hurled back into its boats, or into the - devouring billows, with wreck and wail;—in one word, a Ci-devant - Puisaye as totally ineffectual here as he was in Calvados, when he rode - from Vernon Castle without boots.<a href="#linknote-768" - name="linknoteref-768" id="linknoteref-768">[768]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Again, therefore, it has cost the lives of many a brave man. Among whom - the whole world laments the brave Son of Sombreuil. Ill-fated family! The - father and younger son went to the guillotine; the heroic daughter - languishes, reduced to want, hides her woes from History: the elder son - perishes here; shot by military tribunal as an Emigrant; Hoche himself - cannot save him. If all wars, civil and other, are misunderstandings, - what a thing must right-understanding be! - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0155" id="link2HCH0155"></a> - Chapter 3.7.IV.<br/> - Lion not Dead. - </h3> - - <p> - The Convention, borne on the tide of Fortune towards foreign Victory, and - driven by the strong wind of Public Opinion towards Clemency and Luxury, - is rushing fast; all skill of pilotage is needed, and more than all, in - such a velocity. - </p> - - <p> - Curious to see, how we veer and whirl, yet must ever whirl round again, - and scud before the wind. If, on the one hand, we re-admit the Protesting - Seventy-Three, we, on the other hand, agree to consummate the Apotheosis - of Marat; lift his body from the Cordeliers Church, and transport it to - the Pantheon of Great Men,—flinging out Mirabeau to make room for - him. To no purpose: so strong blows Public Opinion! A Gilt Youthhood, in - plaited hair-tresses, tears down his Busts from the Theatre Feydeau; - tramples them under foot; scatters them, with vociferation into the - Cesspool of Montmartre.<a href="#linknote-769" name="linknoteref-769" - id="linknoteref-769">[769]</a> Swept is his Chapel from the Place du - Carrousel; the Cesspool of Montmartre will receive his very dust. Shorter - godhood had no divine man. Some four months in this Pantheon, Temple of - All the Immortals; then to the Cesspool, grand <i>Cloaca</i> of Paris and - the World! “His Busts at one time amounted to four thousand.” Between - Temple of All the Immortals and Cloaca of the World, how are poor human - creatures whirled! - </p> - - <p> - Furthermore the question arises, When will the Constitution of - <i>Ninety-three</i>, of 1793, come into action? Considerate heads - surmise, in all privacy, that the Constitution of Ninety-three will never - come into action. Let them busy themselves to get ready a better. - </p> - - <p> - Or, again, where now are the Jacobins? Childless, most decrepit, as we - saw, sat the mighty Mother; gnashing not teeth, but empty gums, against a - traitorous Thermidorian Convention and the current of things. Twice were - Billaud, Collot and Company accused in Convention, by a Lecointre, by a - Legendre; and the second time, it was not voted calumnious. Billaud from - the Jacobin tribune says, ‘The lion is not dead, he is only sleeping.’ - They ask him in Convention, What he means by the awakening of the lion? - And bickerings, of an extensive sort, arose in the Palais-Egalité between - <i>Tappe-durs</i> and the Gilt Youthhood; cries of ‘Down with the - Jacobins, the <i>Jacoquins</i>,’ <i>coquin</i> meaning scoundrel! The - Tribune in mid-air gave battle-sound; answered only by silence and - uncertain gasps. Talk was, in Government Committees, of “suspending” the - Jacobin Sessions. Hark, there!—it is in Allhallow-time, or on the - Hallow-eve itself, month <i>ci-devant</i> November, year once named of - Grace 1794, sad eve for Jacobinism,—volley of stones dashing - through our windows, with jingle and execration! The female Jacobins, - famed <i>Tricoteuses</i> with knitting-needles, take flight; are met at - the doors by a Gilt Youthhood and “mob of four thousand persons;” are - hooted, flouted, hustled; fustigated, in a scandalous manner, - <i>cotillons retroussés;</i>—and vanish in mere hysterics. Sally - out ye male Jacobins! The male Jacobins sally out; but only to battle, - disaster and confusion. So that armed Authority has to intervene: and - again on the morrow to intervene; and suspend the Jacobin Sessions - forever and a day.<a href="#linknote-770" name="linknoteref-770" - id="linknoteref-770">[770]</a> Gone are the Jacobins; into invisibility; - in a storm of laughter and howls. Their place is made a Normal School, - the first of the kind seen; it then vanishes into a “Market of Thermidor - Ninth;” into a Market of Saint-Honoré, where is now peaceable chaffering - for poultry and greens. The solemn temples, the great globe itself; the - baseless fabric! Are not we such stuff, we and this world of ours, as - Dreams are made of? - </p> - - <p> - Maximum being abrogated, Trade was to take its own free course. Alas, - Trade, shackled, topsyturvied in the way we saw, and now suddenly let go - again, can for the present take no course at all; but only reel and - stagger. There is, so to speak, no Trade whatever for the time being. - Assignats, long sinking, emitted in such quantities, sink now with an - alacrity beyond parallel. ‘<i>Combien?</i>’ said one, to a - Hackney-coachman, ‘What fare?’ ‘Six thousand livres,’ answered he: some - three hundred pounds sterling, in Paper-money.<a href="#linknote-771" - name="linknoteref-771" id="linknoteref-771">[771]</a> Pressure of Maximum - withdrawn, the things it compressed likewise withdraw. “Two ounces of - bread per day” in the modicum allotted: wide-waving, doleful are the - Bakers’ Queues; Farmers’ houses are become pawnbrokers’ shops. - </p> - - <p> - One can imagine, in these circumstances, with what humour Sansculottism - growled in its throat, ‘<i>La Cabarus;</i>’ beheld Ci-devants return - dancing, the Thermidor effulgence of recivilisation, and Balls in - flesh-coloured drawers. Greek tunics and sandals; hosts of - <i>Muscadins</i> parading, with their clubs loaded with lead;—and - we here, cast out, abhorred, “picking offals from the street;”<a - href="#linknote-772" name="linknoteref-772" - id="linknoteref-772">[772]</a> agitating in Baker’s Queue for our two - ounces of bread! Will the Jacobin lion, which they say is meeting - secretly “at the Archevêché, in <i>bonnet rouge</i> with loaded pistols,” - not awaken? Seemingly not. Our Collot, our Billaud, Barrère, Vadier, in - these last days of March 1795, are found worthy of <i>Déportation</i>, of - Banishment beyond seas; and shall, for the present, be trundled off to - the Castle of Ham. The lion is dead;—or writhing in death-throes! - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Behold, accordingly, on the day they call Twelfth of Germinal (which is - also called First of April, not a lucky day), how lively are these - streets of Paris once more! Floods of hungry women, of squalid hungry - men; ejaculating: ‘Bread, Bread and the Constitution of Ninety-three!’ - Paris has risen, once again, like the Ocean-tide; is flowing towards the - Tuileries, for Bread and a Constitution. Tuileries Sentries do their - best; but it serves not: the Ocean-tide sweeps them away; inundates the - Convention Hall itself; howling, ‘Bread, and the Constitution!’ - </p> - - <p> - Unhappy Senators, unhappy People, there is yet, after all toils and - broils, no Bread, no Constitution. ‘<i>Du pain, pas tant de longs - discours</i>, Bread, not bursts of Parliamentary eloquence!’ so wailed - the Menads of Maillard, five years ago and more; so wail ye to this hour. - The Convention, with unalterable countenance, with what thought one knows - not, keeps its seat in this waste howling chaos; rings its stormbell from - the Pavilion of Unity. Section Lepelletier, old <i>Filles - Saint-Thomas</i>, who are of the money-changing species; these and Gilt - Youthhood fly to the rescue; sweep chaos forth again, with levelled - bayonets. Paris is declared “in a state of siege.” Pichegru, Conqueror of - Holland, who happens to be here, is named Commandant, till the - disturbance end. He, in one day, so to speak, ends it. He accomplishes - the transfer of Billaud, Collot and Company; dissipating all opposition - “by two cannon-shots,” blank cannon-shots, and the terror of his name; - and thereupon announcing, with a Laconicism which should be imitated, - ‘Representatives, your decrees are executed,’<a href="#linknote-773" - name="linknoteref-773" id="linknoteref-773">[773]</a> lays down his - Commandantship. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - This Revolt of Germinal, therefore, has passed, like a vain cry. The - Prisoners rest safe in Ham, waiting for ships; some nine hundred “chief - Terrorists of Paris” are disarmed. Sansculottism, swept forth with - bayonets, has vanished, with its misery, to the bottom of Saint-Antoine - and Saint-Marceau.—Time was when Usher Maillard with Menads could - alter the course of Legislation; but that time is not. Legislation seems - to have got bayonets; Section Lepelletier takes its firelock, not for us! - We retire to our dark dens; our cry of hunger is called a Plot of Pitt; - the Saloons glitter, the flesh-coloured Drawers gyrate as before. It was - for ‘<i>The Cabarus</i>’ then, and her <i>Muscadins</i> and - Money-changers, that we fought? It was for Balls in flesh-coloured - drawers that we took Feudalism by the beard, and did, and dared, shedding - our blood like water? Expressive Silence, muse thou their praise!— - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0156" id="link2HCH0156"></a> - Chapter 3.7.V.<br/> - Lion Sprawling its Last. - </h3> - - <p> - Representative Carrier went to the Guillotine, in December last; - protesting that he acted by orders. The Revolutionary Tribunal, after all - it has devoured, has now only, as Anarchic things do, to devour itself. - In the early days of May, men see a remarkable thing: Fouquier-Tinville - pleading at the Bar once his own. He and his chief Jurymen, Leroi - <i>August-Tenth</i>, Juryman Vilate, a Batch of Sixteen; pleading hard, - protesting that they acted by orders: but pleading in vain. Thus men - break the axe with which they have done hateful things; the axe itself - having grown hateful. For the rest, Fouquier died hard enough: ‘Where are - thy Batches?’ howled the People.—‘Hungry <i>canaille</i>,’ asked - Fouquier, ‘is thy Bread cheaper, wanting them?’ - </p> - - <p> - Remarkable Fouquier; once but as other Attorneys and Law-beagles, which - hunt ravenous on this Earth, a well-known phasis of human nature; and now - thou art and remainest the most remarkable Attorney that ever lived and - hunted in the Upper Air! For, in this terrestrial Course of Time, there - was to be an <i>Avatar</i> of Attorneyism; the Heavens had said, Let - there be an Incarnation, not divine, of the venatory Attorney-spirit - which keeps its eye on the bond only;—and lo, this was it; and they - have attorneyed it in its turn. Vanish, then, thou rat-eyed Incarnation - of Attorneyism; who at bottom wert but as other Attorneys, and too hungry - Sons of Adam! Juryman Vilate had striven hard for life, and published, - from his Prison, an ingenious Book, not unknown to us; but it would not - stead: he also had to vanish; and this his Book of the <i>Secret Causes - of Thermidor</i>, full of lies, with particles of truth in it - undiscoverable otherwise, is all that remains of him. - </p> - - <p> - Revolutionary Tribunal has done; but vengeance has not done. - Representative Lebon, after long struggling, is handed over to the - ordinary Law Courts, and by them guillotined. Nay, at Lyons and - elsewhere, resuscitated Moderatism, in its vengeance, will not wait the - slow process of Law; but bursts into the Prisons, sets fire to the - prisons; burns some three score imprisoned Jacobins to dire death, or - chokes them “with the smoke of straw.” There go vengeful truculent - “Companies of Jesus,” “Companies of the Sun;” slaying Jacobinism wherever - they meet with it; flinging it into the Rhone-stream; which, once more, - bears seaward a horrid cargo.<a href="#linknote-774" - name="linknoteref-774" id="linknoteref-774">[774]</a> Whereupon, at - Toulon, Jacobinism rises in revolt; and is like to hang the National - Representatives.—With such action and reaction, is not a poor - National Convention hard bested? It is like the settlement of winds and - waters, of seas long tornado-beaten; and goes on with jumble and with - jangle. Now flung aloft, now sunk in trough of the sea, your Vessel of - the Republic has need of all pilotage and more. - </p> - - <p> - What Parliament that ever sat under the Moon had such a series of - destinies, as this National Convention of France? It came together to - make the Constitution; and instead of that, it has had to make nothing - but destruction and confusion: to burn up Catholicisms, Aristocratisms, - to worship Reason and dig Saltpetre, to fight Titanically with itself and - with the whole world. A Convention decimated by the Guillotine; above the - tenth man has bowed his neck to the axe. Which has seen Carmagnoles - danced before it, and patriotic strophes sung amid Church-spoils; the - wounded of the Tenth of August defile in handbarrows; and, in the - Pandemonial Midnight, Egalité’s dames in tricolor drink lemonade, and - spectrum of Sieyes mount, saying, <i>Death sans phrase</i>. A Convention - which has effervesced, and which has congealed; which has been red with - rage, and also pale with rage: sitting with pistols in its pocket, - drawing sword (in a moment of effervescence): now storming to the four - winds, through a Danton-voice, Awake, O France, and smite the tyrants; - now frozen mute under its Robespierre, and answering his dirge-voice by a - dubious gasp. Assassinated, decimated; stabbed at, shot at, in baths, on - streets and staircases; which has been the nucleus of Chaos. Has it not - heard the chimes at midnight? It has deliberated, beset by a Hundred - thousand armed men with artillery-furnaces and provision-carts. It has - been betocsined, bestormed; over-flooded by black deluges of - Sansculottism; and has heard the shrill cry, <i>Bread and Soap</i>. For, - as we say, its the nucleus of Chaos; it sat as the centre of - Sansculottism; and had spread its pavilion on the waste Deep, where is - neither path nor landmark, neither bottom nor shore. In intrinsic valour, - ingenuity, fidelity, and general force and manhood, it has perhaps not - far surpassed the average of Parliaments: but in frankness of purpose, in - singularity of position, it seeks its fellow. One other Sansculottic - submersion, or at most two, and this wearied vessel of a Convention - reaches land. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - Revolt of Germinal Twelfth ended as a vain cry; moribund Sansculottism - was swept back into invisibility. There it has lain moaning, these six - weeks: moaning, and also scheming. Jacobins disarmed, flung forth from - their Tribune in mid air, must needs try to help themselves, in secret - conclave under ground. Lo, therefore, on the First day of the month - <i>Prairial</i>, 20th of May 1795, sound of the <i>générale</i> once - more; beating sharp, ran-tan, To arms, To arms! - </p> - - <p> - Sansculottism has risen, yet again, from its death-lair; waste - wild-flowing, as the unfruitful Sea. Saint-Antoine is a-foot: ‘Bread and - the Constitution of Ninety-three,’ so sounds it; so stands it written - with chalk on the hats of men. They have their pikes, their firelocks; - Paper of Grievances; standards; printed Proclamation, drawn up in quite - official manner,—considering this, and also considering that, they, - a much-enduring Sovereign People, are in Insurrection; will have Bread - and the Constitution of Ninety-three. And so the Barriers are seized, and - the <i>générale</i> beats, and tocsins discourse discord. Black deluges - overflow the Tuileries; spite of sentries, the Sanctuary itself is - invaded: enter, to our Order of the Day, a torrent of dishevelled women, - wailing, ‘Bread! Bread!’ President may well cover himself; and have his - own tocsin rung in “the Pavilion of Unity;” the ship of the State again - labours and leaks; overwashed, near to swamping, with unfruitful brine. - </p> - - <p> - What a day, once more! Women are driven out: men storm irresistibly in; - choke all corridors, thunder at all gates. Deputies, putting forth head, - obtest, conjure; Saint-Antoine rages, ‘Bread and Constitution.’ Report - has risen that the “Convention is assassinating the women:” crushing and - rushing, clangor and furor! The oak doors have become as oak tambourines, - sounding under the axe of Saint-Antoine; plaster-work crackles, woodwork - booms and jingles; door starts up;—bursts-in Saint-Antoine with - frenzy and vociferation, Rag-standards, printed Proclamation, drum-music: - astonishment to eye and ear. Gendarmes, loyal Sectioners charge through - the other door; they are recharged; musketry exploding: Saint-Antoine - cannot be expelled. Obtesting Deputies obtest vainly; Respect the - President; approach not the President! Deputy Féraud, stretching out his - hands, baring his bosom scarred in the Spanish wars, obtests vainly: - threatens and resists vainly. Rebellious Deputy of the Sovereign, if thou - have fought, have not we too? We have no bread, no Constitution! They - wrench poor Féraud; they tumble him, trample him, wrath waxing to see - itself work: they drag him into the corridor, dead or near it; sever his - head, and fix it on a pike. Ah, did an unexampled Convention want this - variety of destiny too, then? Féraud’s bloody head goes on a pike. Such a - game has begun; Paris and the Earth may wait how it will end. - </p> - - <p> - And so it billows free though all Corridors; within, and without, far as - the eye reaches, nothing but Bedlam, and the great Deep broken loose! - President Boissy d’Anglas sits like a rock: the rest of the Convention is - floated “to the upper benches;” Sectioners and Gendarmes still ranking - there to form a kind of wall for them. And Insurrection rages; rolls its - drums; will read its Paper of Grievances, will have this decreed, will - have that. Covered sits President Boissy, unyielding; like a rock in the - beating of seas. They menace him, level muskets at him, he yields not; - they hold up Féraud’s bloody head to him, with grave stern air he bows to - it, and yields not. - </p> - - <p> - And the Paper of Grievances cannot get itself read for uproar; and the - drums roll, and the throats bawl; and Insurrection, like sphere-music, is - inaudible for very noise: Decree us this, Decree us that. One man we - discern bawling “for the space of an hour at all intervals,” ‘<i>Je - demande l’arrestation des coquins et des lâches</i>.’ Really one of the - most comprehensive Petitions ever put up: which indeed, to this hour, - includes all that you can reasonably ask Constitution of the Year One, - Rotten-Borough, Ballot-Box, or other miraculous Political Ark of the - Covenant to do for you to the end of the world! I also <i>demand - arrestment of the Knaves and Dastards</i>, and nothing more whatever. - National Representation, deluged with black Sansculottism glides out; for - help elsewhere, for safety elsewhere: here is no help. - </p> - - <p> - About four in the afternoon, there remain hardly more than some Sixty - Members: mere friends, or even secret-leaders; a remnant of the - Mountain-crest, held in silence by Thermidorian thraldom. Now is the time - for them; now or never let them descend, and speak! They descend, these - Sixty, invited by Sansculottism: Romme of the New Calendar, Ruhl of the - Sacred Phial, Goujon, Duquesnoy, Soubrany, and the rest. Glad - Sansculottism forms a ring for them; Romme takes the President’s chair; - they begin resolving and decreeing. Fast enough now comes Decree after - Decree, in alternate brief strains, or strophe and - antistrophe,—what will cheapen bread, what will awaken the dormant - lion. And at every new Decree, Sansculottism shouts, Decreed, Decreed; - and rolls its drums. - </p> - - <p> - Fast enough; the work of months in hours,—when see, a Figure - enters, whom in the lamp-light we recognise to be Legendre; and utters - words: fit to be hissed out! And then see, Section Lepelletier or other - Muscadin Section enters, and Gilt Youth, with levelled bayonets, - countenances screwed to the sticking-place! Tramp, tramp, with bayonets - gleaming in the lamp-light: what can one do, worn down with long riot, - grown heartless, dark, hungry, but roll back, but rush back, and escape - who can? The very windows need to be thrown up, that Sansculottism may - escape fast enough. Money-changer Sections and Gilt Youth sweep them - forth, with steel besom, far into the depths of Saint-Antoine. Triumph - once more! The Decrees of that Sixty are not so much as rescinded; they - are declared null and non-extant. Romme, Ruhl, Goujon and the - ringleaders, some thirteen in all, are decreed Accused. Permanent-session - ends at three in the morning.<a href="#linknote-775" - name="linknoteref-775" id="linknoteref-775">[775]</a> Sansculottism, once - more flung resupine, lies sprawling; sprawling its <i>last</i>. - </p> - - <p> - Such was the First of Prairial, 20th May, 1795. Second and Third of - Prairial, during which Sansculottism still sprawled, and unexpectedly - rang its tocsin, and assembled in arms, availed Sansculottism nothing. - What though with our Rommes and Ruhls, accused but not yet arrested, we - make a new “True National Convention” of our own, over in the East; and - put the others Out of Law? What though we rank in arms and march? Armed - Force and Muscadin Sections, some thirty thousand men, environ that old - False Convention: we can but bully one another: bandying nicknames, - ‘<i>Muscadins</i>,’ against ‘Blooddrinkers, <i>Buveurs de Sang</i>.’ - Féraud’s Assassin, taken with the red hand, and sentenced, and now near - to Guillotine and Place de Grève, is retaken; is carried back into - Saint-Antoine: to no purpose. Convention Sectionaries and Gilt Youth - come, according to Decree, to seek him; nay to disarm Saint-Antoine! And - they do disarm it: by rolling of cannon, by springing upon enemy’s - cannon; by military audacity, and terror of the Law. Saint-Antoine - surrenders its arms; Santerre even advising it, anxious for life and - brewhouse. Féraud’s Assassin flings himself from a high roof: and all is - lost.<a href="#linknote-776" name="linknoteref-776" - id="linknoteref-776">[776]</a> - </p> - - <p> - Discerning which things, old Ruhl shot a pistol through his old white - head; dashed his life in pieces, as he had done the Sacred Phial of - Rheims. Romme, Goujon and the others stand ranked before a - swiftly-appointed, swift Military Tribunal. Hearing the sentence, Goujon - drew a knife, struck it into his breast, passed it to his neighbour - Romme; and fell dead. Romme did the like; and another all but did it; - Roman-death rushing on there, as in electric-chain, before your Bailiffs - could intervene! The Guillotine had the rest. - </p> - - <p> - They were the <i>Ultimi Romanorum</i>. Billaud, Collot and Company are - now ordered to be tried for life; but are found to be already off, - shipped for Sinamarri, and the hot mud of Surinam. There let Billaud - surround himself with flocks of tame parrots; Collot take the yellow - fever, and drinking a whole bottle of brandy, burn up his entrails.<a - href="#linknote-777" name="linknoteref-777" - id="linknoteref-777">[777]</a> Sansculottism spraws no more. The dormant - lion has become a dead one; and now, as we see, any hoof may smite him. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0157" id="link2HCH0157"></a> - Chapter 3.7.VI.<br/> - Grilled Herrings. - </h3> - - <p> - So dies Sansculottism, the <i>body</i> of Sansculottism, or is changed. - Its ragged Pythian Carmagnole-dance has transformed itself into a - Pyrrhic, into a dance of Cabarus Balls. Sansculottism is dead; - extinguished by new <i>isms</i> of that kind, which were its own natural - progeny; and is buried, we may say, with such deafening jubilation and - disharmony of funeral-knell on their part, that only after some half - century or so does one begin to learn clearly why it ever was alive. - </p> - - <p> - And yet a meaning lay in it: Sansculottism verily was alive, a New-Birth - of TIME; nay it still lives, and is not dead, but changed. The - <i>soul</i> of it still lives; still works far and wide, through one - bodily shape into another less amorphous, as is the way of cunning Time - with his New-Births:—till, in some perfected shape, it embrace the - whole circuit of the world! For the wise man may now everywhere discern - that he must found on his manhood, not on the garnitures of his manhood. - He who, in these Epochs of our Europe, founds on garnitures, formulas, - culottisms of what sort soever, is founding on old cloth and sheep-skin, - and cannot endure. But as for the body of Sansculottism, that is dead and - buried,—and, one hopes, need not reappear, in primary amorphous - shape, for another thousand years! - </p> - - <p> - It was the frightfullest thing ever borne of Time? One of the - frightfullest. This Convention, now grown Anti-Jacobin, did, with an eye - to justify and fortify itself, publish Lists of what the Reign of Terror - had perpetrated: Lists of Persons Guillotined. The Lists, cries splenetic - Abbé Montgaillard, were not complete. They contain the names of, How many - persons thinks the reader?—Two Thousand all but a few. There were - above Four Thousand, cries Montgaillard: so many were guillotined, - fusilladed, noyaded, done to dire death; of whom Nine Hundred were - women.<a href="#linknote-778" name="linknoteref-778" - id="linknoteref-778">[778]</a> It is a horrible sum of human lives, M. - l’Abbé:—some ten times as many shot rightly on a field of battle, - and one might have had his Glorious-Victory with <i>Te-Deum</i>. It is - not far from the two-hundredth part of what perished in the entire Seven - Years War. By which Seven Years War, did not the great Fritz wrench - Silesia from the great Theresa; and a Pompadour, stung by epigrams, - satisfy herself that she could not be an Agnes Sorel? The head of man is - a strange vacant sounding-shell, M. l’Abbé; and studies Cocker to small - purpose. - </p> - - <p> - But what if History, somewhere on this Planet, were to hear of a Nation, - the third soul of whom had not for thirty weeks each year as many - third-rate potatoes as would sustain him?<a href="#linknote-779" - name="linknoteref-779" id="linknoteref-779">[779]</a> History, in that - case, feels bound to consider that starvation is starvation; that - starvation from age to age presupposes much: History ventures to assert - that the French Sansculotte of Ninety-three, who, roused from long - death-sleep, could rush at once to the frontiers, and die fighting for an - immortal Hope and Faith of Deliverance for him and his, was but the - <i>second</i>-miserablest of men! The Irish Sans-potato, had he not - senses then, nay a soul? In his frozen darkness, it was bitter for him to - die famishing; bitter to see his children famish. It was bitter for him - to be a beggar, a liar and a knave. Nay, if that dreary Greenland-wind of - benighted Want, perennial from sire to son, had frozen him into a kind of - torpor and numb callosity, so that he saw not, felt not, was this, for a - creature with a soul in it, some assuagement; or the cruellest - wretchedness of all? - </p> - - <p> - Such things were, such things are; and they go on in silence peaceably: - and Sansculottisms follow them. History, looking back over this France - through long times, back to Turgot’s time for instance, when dumb - Drudgery staggered up to its King’s Palace, and in wide expanse of sallow - faces, squalor and winged raggedness, presented hieroglyphically its - Petition of Grievances; and for answer got hanged on a “new gallows forty - feet high,”—confesses mournfully that there is no period to be met - with, in which the general Twenty-five Millions of France suffered - <i>less</i> than in this period which they name Reign of Terror! But it - was not the Dumb Millions that suffered here; it was the Speaking - Thousands, and Hundreds, and Units; who shrieked and published, and made - the world ring with their wail, as they could and should: that is the - grand peculiarity. The frightfullest Births of Time are never the - loud-speaking ones, for these soon die; they are the silent ones, which - can live from century to century! Anarchy, hateful as Death, is abhorrent - to the whole nature of man; and must itself soon die. - </p> - - <p> - Wherefore let all men know what of depth and of height is still revealed - in man; and, with fear and wonder, with just sympathy and just antipathy, - with clear eye and open heart, contemplate it and appropriate it; and - draw innumerable inferences from it. This inference, for example, among - the first: “That if the gods of this lower world will sit on their - glittering thrones, indolent as Epicurus’ gods, with the living Chaos of - Ignorance and Hunger weltering uncared for at their feet, and smooth - Parasites preaching, Peace, peace, when there is no peace,” then the dark - Chaos, it would seem, will rise; has risen, and O Heavens! has it not - tanned their skins into breeches for itself? That there be no second - Sansculottism in our Earth for a thousand years, let us understand well - what the first was; and let Rich and Poor of us go and do - <i>otherwise</i>.—But to our tale. - </p> - - <p> - The Muscadin Sections greatly rejoice; Cabarus Balls gyrate: the - well-nigh insoluble problem <i>Republic without Anarchy</i>, have we not - solved it?—Law of Fraternity or Death is gone: chimerical - <i>Obtain-who-need</i> has become practical <i>Hold-who-have</i>. To - anarchic Republic of the Poverties there has succeeded orderly Republic - of the Luxuries; which will continue as long as it can. - </p> - - <p> - On the Pont au Change, on the Place de Grève, in long sheds, Mercier, in - these summer evenings, saw working men at their repast. One’s allotment - of daily bread has sunk to an ounce and a half. “Plates containing each - three grilled herrings, sprinkled with shorn onions, wetted with a little - vinegar; to this add some morsel of boiled prunes, and lentils swimming - in a clear sauce: at these frugal tables, the cook’s gridiron hissing - near by, and the pot simmering on a fire between two stones, I have seen - them ranged by the hundred; consuming, without bread, their scant messes, - far too moderate for the keenness of their appetite, and the extent of - their stomach.”<a href="#linknote-780" name="linknoteref-780" - id="linknoteref-780">[780]</a> Seine water, rushing plenteous by, will - supply the deficiency. - </p> - - <p> - O man of Toil, thy struggling and thy daring, these six long years of - insurrection and tribulation, thou hast profited nothing by it, then? - Thou consumest thy herring and water, in the blessed gold-red evening. O - why was the Earth so beautiful, becrimsoned with dawn and twilight, if - man’s dealings with man were to make it a vale of scarcity, of tears, not - even soft tears? Destroying of Bastilles, discomfiting of Brunswicks, - fronting of Principalities and Powers, of Earth and Tophet, all that thou - hast dared and endured,—it was for a Republic of the Cabarus - Saloons? Patience; thou must have patience: the end is not yet. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0158" id="link2HCH0158"></a> - Chapter 3.7.VII.<br/> - The Whiff of Grapeshot. - </h3> - - <p> - In fact, what can be more natural, one may say inevitable, as a - Post-Sansculottic transitionary state, than even this? Confused wreck of - a Republic of the Poverties, which ended in Reign of Terror, is arranging - itself into such composure as it can. Evangel of Jean-Jacques, and most - other Evangels, becoming incredible, what is there for it but return to - the old Evangel of Mammon? <i>Contrat-Social</i> is true or untrue, - Brotherhood is Brotherhood or Death; but money always will buy money’s - worth: in the wreck of human dubitations, this remains indubitable, that - Pleasure is pleasant. Aristocracy of Feudal Parchment has passed away - with a mighty rushing; and now, by a natural course, we arrive at - Aristocracy of the Moneybag. It is the course through which all European - Societies are at this hour travelling. Apparently a still baser sort of - Aristocracy? An infinitely baser; the basest yet known! - </p> - - <p> - In which however there is this advantage, that, like Anarchy itself, it - cannot continue. Hast thou considered how Thought is stronger than - Artillery-parks, and (were it fifty years after death and martyrdom, or - were it two thousand years) writes and unwrites Acts of Parliament, - removes mountains; models the World like soft clay? Also how the - beginning of all Thought, worth the name, is Love; and the wise head - never yet was, without first the generous heart? The Heavens cease not - their bounty: they send us generous hearts into every generation. And now - what generous heart can pretend to itself, or be hoodwinked into - believing, that Loyalty to the Moneybag is a noble Loyalty? Mammon, cries - the generous heart out of all ages and countries, is the basest of known - Gods, even of known Devils. In him what glory is there, that ye should - worship him? No glory discernable; not even terror: at best, - detestability, ill-matched with despicability!—Generous hearts, - discerning, on this hand, widespread Wretchedness, dark without and - within, moistening its ounce-and-half of bread with tears; and on that - hand, mere Balls in fleshcoloured drawers, and inane or foul glitter of - such sort,—cannot but ejaculate, cannot but announce: Too much, O - divine Mammon; somewhat too much!—The voice of these, once - announcing itself, carries <i>fiat</i> and <i>pereat</i> in it, for all - things here below. - </p> - - <p> - Meanwhile, we will hate Anarchy as Death, which it is; and the things - worse than Anarchy shall be hated <i>more.</i> Surely Peace alone is - fruitful. Anarchy is destruction: a burning up, say, of Shams and - Insupportabilities; but which leaves Vacancy behind. Know this also, that - out of a world of Unwise nothing but an Unwisdom can be made. Arrange it, - Constitution-build it, sift it through Ballot-Boxes as thou wilt, it is - and remains an Unwisdom,—the new prey of new quacks and unclean - things, the latter end of it slightly better than the beginning. Who can - bring a wise thing out of men unwise? Not one. And so Vacancy and general - Abolition having come for this France, what can Anarchy do more? Let - there be Order, were it under the Soldier’s Sword; let there be Peace, - that the bounty of the Heavens be not spilt; that what of Wisdom they do - send us bring fruit in its season!—It remains to be seen how the - quellers of Sansculottism were themselves quelled, and sacred right of - Insurrection was blown away by gunpowder: wherewith this singular - eventful History called <i>French Revolution</i> ends. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - The Convention, driven such a course by wild wind, wild tide, and - steerage and non-steerage, these three years, has become weary of its own - existence, sees all men weary of it; and wishes heartily to finish. To - the last, it has to strive with contradictions: it is now getting fast - ready with a Constitution, yet knows no peace. Sieyes, we say, is making - the Constitution once more; has as good as made it. Warned by experience, - the great Architect alters much, admits much. Distinction of Active and - Passive Citizen, that is, Money-qualification for Electors: nay Two - Chambers, “Council of Ancients,” as well as “Council of Five Hundred;” to - that conclusion have we come! In a like spirit, eschewing that fatal - self-denying ordinance of your Old Constituents, we enact not only that - actual Convention Members are re-eligible, but that Two-thirds of them - must be re-elected. The Active Citizen Electors shall for this time have - free choice of only One-third of their National Assembly. Such enactment, - of Two-thirds to be re-elected, we append to our Constitution; we submit - our Constitution to the Townships of France, and say, Accept <i>both</i>, - or reject both. Unsavoury as this appendix may be, the Townships, by - overwhelming majority, accept and ratify. With Directory of Five; with - Two good Chambers, double-majority of them nominated by ourselves, one - hopes this Constitution may prove final. <i>March</i> it will; for the - legs of it, the re-elected Two-thirds, are already there, able to march. - Sieyes looks at his Paper Fabric with just pride. - </p> - - <p> - But now see how the contumacious Sections, Lepelletier foremost, kick - against the pricks! Is it not manifest infraction of one’s Elective - Franchise, Rights of Man, and Sovereignty of the People, this appendix of - re-electing <i>your</i> Two-thirds? Greedy tyrants who would perpetuate - yourselves!—For the truth is, victory over Saint-Antoine, and long - right of Insurrection, has spoiled these men. Nay spoiled all men. - Consider too how each man was free to hope what he liked; and now there - is to be no hope, there is to be fruition, fruition of <i>this</i>. - </p> - - <p> - In men spoiled by long right of Insurrection, what confused ferments will - rise, tongues once begun wagging! Journalists declaim, your Lacretelles, - Laharpes; Orators spout. There is Royalism traceable in it, and - Jacobinism. On the West Frontier, in deep secrecy, Pichegru, durst he - trust his Army, is treating with Condé: in these Sections, there spout - wolves in sheep’s clothing, masked Emigrants and Royalists!<a - href="#linknote-781" name="linknoteref-781" - id="linknoteref-781">[781]</a> All men, as we say, had hoped, each that - the Election would do something for his own side: and now there is no - Election, or only the third of one. Black is united with white against - this clause of the Two-thirds; all the Unruly of France, who see their - trade thereby near ending. - </p> - - <p> - Section Lepelletier, after Addresses enough, finds that such clause is a - manifest infraction; that it, Lepelletier, for one, will simply not - conform thereto; and invites all other free Sections to join it, “in - central Committee,” in resistance to oppression.<a href="#linknote-782" - name="linknoteref-782" id="linknoteref-782">[782]</a> The Sections join - it, nearly all; strong with their Forty Thousand fighting men. The - Convention therefore may look to itself! Lepelletier, on this 12th day of - Vendémiaire, 4th of October 1795, is sitting in open contravention, in - its Convent of Filles Saint-Thomas, Rue Vivienne, with guns primed. The - Convention has some Five Thousand regular troops at hand; Generals in - abundance; and a Fifteen Hundred of miscellaneous persecuted - Ultra-Jacobins, whom in this crisis it has hastily got together and - armed, under the title <i>Patriots of Eighty-nine</i>. Strong in Law, it - sends its General Menou to disarm Lepelletier. - </p> - - <p> - General Menou marches accordingly, with due summons and demonstration; - with no result. General Menou, about eight in the evening, finds that he - is standing ranked in the Rue Vivienne, emitting vain summonses; with - primed guns pointed out of every window at him; and that he cannot disarm - Lepelletier. He has to return, with whole skin, but without success; and - be thrown into arrest as “a traitor.” Whereupon the whole Forty Thousand - join this Lepelletier which cannot be vanquished: to what hand shall a - quaking Convention now turn? Our poor Convention, after such voyaging, - just entering harbour, so to speak, has <i>struck on the - bar;</i>—and labours there frightfully, with breakers roaring round - it, Forty thousand of them, like to wash it, and its Sieyes Cargo and the - whole future of France, into the deep! Yet one last time, it struggles, - ready to perish. - </p> - - <p> - Some call for Barras to be made Commandant; he conquered in Thermidor. - Some, what is more to the purpose, bethink them of the Citizen - Buonaparte, unemployed Artillery Officer, who took Toulon. A man of head, - a man of action: Barras is named Commandant’s-Cloak; this young Artillery - Officer is named Commandant. He was in the Gallery at the moment, and - heard it; he withdrew, some half hour, to consider with himself: after a - half hour of grim compressed considering, to be or not to be, he answers - <i>Yea</i>. - </p> - - <p> - And now, a man of head being at the centre of it, the whole matter gets - vital. Swift, to Camp of Sablons; to secure the Artillery, there are not - twenty men guarding it! A swift Adjutant, Murat is the name of him, - gallops; gets thither some minutes within time, for Lepelletier was also - on march that way: the Cannon are ours. And now beset this post, and - beset that; rapid and firm: at Wicket of the Louvre, in Cul de Sac - Dauphin, in Rue Saint-Honoré, from Pont Neuf all along the north Quays, - southward to Pont <i>ci-devant</i> Royal,—rank round the Sanctuary - of the Tuileries, a ring of steel discipline; let every gunner have his - match burning, and all men stand to their arms! - </p> - - <p> - Thus there is Permanent-session through night; and thus at sunrise of the - morrow, there is seen sacred Insurrection once again: vessel of State - labouring on the bar; and tumultuous sea all round her, beating - <i>générale</i>, arming and sounding,—not ringing tocsin, for we - have left no tocsin but our own in the Pavilion of Unity. It is an - imminence of shipwreck, for the whole world to gaze at. Frightfully she - labours, that poor ship, within cable-length of port; huge peril for her. - However, she has a man at the helm. Insurgent messages, received, and not - received; messenger admitted blindfolded; counsel and counter-counsel: - the poor ship labours!—Vendémiaire 13th, year 4: curious enough, of - all days, it is the Fifth day of October, anniversary of that - Menad-march, six years ago; by sacred right of Insurrection we are got - thus far. - </p> - - <p> - Lepelletier has seized the Church of Saint-Roch; has seized the Pont - Neuf, our piquet there retreating without fire. Stray shots fall from - Lepelletier; rattle down on the very Tuileries staircase. On the other - hand, women advance dishevelled, shrieking, Peace; Lepelletier behind - them waving its hat in sign that we shall fraternise. Steady! The - Artillery Officer is steady as bronze; can be quick as lightning. He - sends eight hundred muskets with ball-cartridges to the Convention - itself; honourable Members shall act with these in case of extremity: - whereat they look grave enough. Four of the afternoon is struck.<a - href="#linknote-783" name="linknoteref-783" - id="linknoteref-783">[783]</a> Lepelletier, making nothing by messengers, - by fraternity or hat-waving, bursts out, along the Southern Quai - Voltaire, along streets, and passages, treble-quick, in huge veritable - onslaught! Whereupon, thou bronze Artillery Officer—? ‘Fire!’ say - the bronze lips. Roar and again roar, continual, volcano-like, goes his - great gun, in the Cul de Sac Dauphin against the Church of Saint-Roch; go - his great guns on the Pont Royal; go all his great guns;—blow to - air some two hundred men, mainly about the Church of Saint-Roch! - Lepelletier cannot stand such horse-play; no Sectioner can stand it; the - Forty-thousand yield on all sides, scour towards covert. “Some hundred or - so of them gathered both Theatre de la République; but,” says he, “a few - shells dislodged them. It was all finished at six.” - </p> - - <p> - The Ship is <i>over</i> the bar, then; free she bounds - shoreward,—amid shouting and vivats! Citoyen Buonaparte is “named - General of the Interior, by acclamation;” quelled Sections have to disarm - in such humour as they may; sacred right of Insurrection is gone for - ever! The Sieyes Constitution can disembark itself, and begin marching. - The miraculous Convention Ship has got to land;—and is there, shall - we figuratively say, changed, as Epic Ships are wont, into a kind of - <i>Sea Nymph</i>, never to sail more; to roam the waste Azure, a Miracle - in History! - </p> - - <p> - “It is false,” says Napoleon, “that we fired first with blank charge; it - had been a waste of life to do that.” Most false: the firing was with - sharp and sharpest shot: to all men it was plain that here was no sport; - the rabbets and plinths of Saint-Roch Church show splintered by it, to - this hour.—Singular: in old Broglie’s time, six years ago, this - Whiff of Grapeshot was promised; but it could not be given then, could - not have profited then. Now, however, the time is come for it, and the - man; and behold, you have it; and the thing we specifically call - <i>French Revolution</i> is blown into space by it, and become a thing - that was!— - - </p> </div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0159" id="link2HCH0159"></a> - Chapter 3.7.VIII.<br/> - Finis. - </h3> - - <p> - Homer’s Epos, it is remarked, is like a Bas-relief sculpture: it does not - conclude, but merely ceases. Such, indeed, is the Epos of Universal - History itself. Directorates, Consulates, Emperorships, Restorations, - Citizen-Kingships succeed this Business in due series, in due genesis one - out of the other. Nevertheless the First-parent of all these may be said - to have gone to air in the way we see. A Baboeuf Insurrection, next year, - will die in the birth; stifled by the Soldiery. A Senate, if tinged with - Royalism, can be purged by the Soldiery; and an Eighteenth of Fructidor - transacted by the mere shew of bayonets.<a href="#linknote-784" - name="linknoteref-784" id="linknoteref-784">[784]</a> Nay Soldiers’ - bayonets can be used <i>à posteriori</i> on a Senate, and make it leap - out of window,—still bloodless; and produce an Eighteenth of - Brumaire.<a href="#linknote-785" name="linknoteref-785" - id="linknoteref-785">[785]</a> Such changes must happen: but they are - managed by intriguings, caballings, and then by orderly word of command; - almost like mere changes of Ministry. Not in general by sacred right of - Insurrection, but by milder methods growing ever milder, shall the Events - of French history be henceforth brought to pass. - </p> - - <p> - It is admitted that this Directorate, which owned, at its starting, these - three things, an “old table, a sheet of paper, and an ink-bottle,” and no - visible money or arrangement whatever,<a href="#linknote-786" - name="linknoteref-786" id="linknoteref-786">[786]</a> did wonders: that - France, since the Reign of Terror hushed itself, has been a new France, - awakened like a giant out of torpor; and has gone on, in the Internal - Life of it, with continual progress. As for the External form and forms - of Life,—what can we say except that out of the Eater there comes - Strength; out of the Unwise there comes <i>not</i> Wisdom! Shams are - burnt up; nay, what as yet is the peculiarity of France, the very Cant of - them is burnt up. The new Realities are not yet come: ah no, only - Phantasms, Paper models, tentative Prefigurements of such! In France - there are now Four Million Landed Properties; that black portent of an - Agrarian Law is as it were <i>realised.</i> What is still stranger, we - understand all Frenchmen have “the right of duel;” the Hackney-coachman - with the Peer, if insult be given: such is the law of Public Opinion. - Equality at least in death! The Form of Government is by Citizen King, - frequently shot at, not yet shot. - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - On the whole, therefore, has it not been fulfilled what was prophesied, - <i>ex-postfacto</i> indeed, by the Archquack Cagliostro, or another? He, - as he looked in rapt vision and amazement into these things, thus - spake:<a href="#linknote-787" name="linknoteref-787" - id="linknoteref-787">[787]</a> “Ha! What is <i>this?</i> Angels, Uriel, - Anachiel, and the other Five; Pentagon of Rejuvenescence; Power that - destroyed Original Sin; Earth, Heaven, and thou Outer Limbo, which men - name Hell! Does the EMPIRE Of IMPOSTURE waver? Burst there, in starry - sheen updarting, Light-rays from out <i>its</i> dark foundations; as it - rocks and heaves, not in travail-throes, but in death-throes? Yea, - Light-rays, piercing, clear, that salute the Heavens,—lo, they - <i>kindle</i> it; their starry clearness becomes as red Hellfire! - </p> - - <p> - “IMPOSTURE is in flames, Imposture is burnt up: one red sea of Fire, - wild-billowing enwraps the World; with its fire-tongue, licks at the very - Stars. Thrones are hurled into it, and Dubois mitres, and Prebendal - Stalls that drop fatness, and—ha! what see I?—all the - <i>Gigs</i> of Creation; all, all! Wo is me! Never since Pharaoh’s - Chariots, in the Red-sea of water, was there wreck of Wheel-vehicles like - this in the Sea of Fire. Desolate, as ashes, as gases, shall they wander - in the wind. - </p> - - <p> - Higher, higher yet flames the Fire-Sea; crackling with new dislocated - timber; hissing with leather and prunella. The metal Images are molten; - the marble Images become mortar-lime; the stone Mountains sulkily - explode. RESPECTABILITY, with all her collected Gigs inflamed for funeral - pyre, wailing, leaves the earth: not to return save under new Avatar. - Imposture, how it burns, through generations: how it is burnt up; for a - time. The World is black ashes; which, ah, when will they grow green? The - Images all run into amorphous Corinthian brass; all Dwellings of men - destroyed; the very mountains peeled and riven, the valleys black and - dead: it is an empty World! Wo to them that shall be born then!—A - King, a Queen (ah me!) were hurled in; did rustle once; flew aloft, - crackling, like paper-scroll. Iscariot Egalité was hurled in; thou grim - De Launay, with thy grim Bastille; whole kindreds and peoples; five - millions of mutually destroying Men. For it is the End of the Dominion of - IMPOSTURE (which is Darkness and opaque Firedamp); and the burning up, - with unquenchable fire, of all the Gigs that are in the Earth.” This - Prophecy, we say, has it not been fulfilled, is it not fulfilling? - </p> - - <p class="p2"> - And so here, O Reader, has the time come for us two to part. Toilsome was - our journeying together; not without offence; but it is done. To me thou - wert as a beloved shade, the disembodied or not yet embodied spirit of a - Brother. To thee I was but as a Voice. Yet was our relation a kind of - sacred one; doubt not that! Whatsoever once sacred things become hollow - jargons, yet while the Voice of Man speaks with Man, hast thou not there - the living fountain out of which all sacrednesses sprang, and will yet - spring? Man, by the nature of him, is definable as “an incarnated Word.” - Ill stands it with me if I have spoken falsely: thine also it was to hear - truly. Farewell. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0160" id="link2HCH0160"></a> - INDEX. - </h3> - - <p> - ABBAYE, massacres, Jourgniac, Sicard, and Maton’s account of. - </p> - <p> - ACCEPTATION, grande, by Louis XVI. - </p> - <p> - AGOUST, Captain d’, seizes two Parlementeers. - </p> - <p> - AIGUILLON, d’, at Quiberon, account of, in favour, at death of Louis XV. - </p> - <p> - AINTRIGUES, Count d’. - </p> - <p> - ALTAR of Fatherland in Champ-de-Mars, scene at, christening at. - </p> - <p> - AMIRAL, assassin, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ANGLAS, Boissy d’, President, First of Prairial. - </p> - <p> - ANGOULEME, Duchesse d’, parts from her father. - </p> - <p> - ANGREMONT, Collenot d’, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ANTOINETTE, Marie, splendour of, applauded, compromised by Diamond - Necklace, griefs of, weeps, unpopular, at Dinner of Guards, courage of, - Fifth October, at Versailles, shows herself to people, and Louis at - Tuileries, and the Lorrainer, and Mirabeau, previous to flight, flight - from Tuileries, captured, and Barnave, Coblentz intrigues, and Lamotte’s - Mémoires, during Twentieth June, during Tenth August, as captive, and - Princess de Lamballe, in Temple Prison, parting scene with King, to the - Conciergerie, trial of, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ARGONNE Forest, occupied by Dumouriez, Brunswick at. - </p> - <p> - ARISTOCRATS, officers in French army, number in Paris, seized, condition - in 1794. - </p> - <p> - ARLES, state of. - </p> - <p> - ARMS, smiths making, search for, at Charleville, manufacture, in 1794, - scarcity in 1792, Danton’s search for. - </p> - <p> - ARMY, French, after Bastille, officered by aristocrats, to be disbanded, - demands arrears, general mutiny of, outbreak of, Nanci military - executions, Royalists leave, state of, in want, recruited, Revolutionary, - fourteen armies on foot. - </p> - <p> - ARRAS, guillotine at. - </p> - <p> - ARRESTS in August 1792. - </p> - <p> - ARSENAL, attempted destruction of. - </p> - <p> - ARTOIS, M. d’, ways of, unpopularity of, memorial by, flies, at Coblentz, - refusal to return. - </p> - <p> - ASSEMBLIES, Primary and Secondary. - </p> - <p> - ASSEMBLY, National, Third Estate becomes, to be extruded, stands grouped - in the rain, occupies Tennis-Court, scene there, joined by clergy, doings - on King’s speech, ratified by King, cannon pointed at, regrets Necker, - after Bastille. - </p> - <p> - ASSEMBLY, Constituent, National, becomes, pedantic, Irregular Verbs, what - it can do, Night of Pentecost, Left and Right side, raises money, on the - Veto, Fifth October, women, in Paris Riding-Hall, on deficit, assignats, - on clergy, and riot, prepares for Louis’s visit, on Federation, Anacharsis - Clootz, eldest of men, on Franklin’s death, on state of army, thanks - Bouillé, on Nanci affair, on Emigrants, on death of Mirabeau, on escape of - King, after capture of King, completes Constitution, dissolves itself, - what it has done. - </p> - <p> - ASSEMBLY, Legislative, First French Parliament, book of law, dispute with - King, Baiser de Lamourette, High Court, decrees vetoed, scenes in, - reprimands King’s ministers, declares war, declares France in danger, - reinstates Pétion, nonplused, Lafayette, King and Swiss, August Tenth, - becoming defunct, September massacres, dissolved. - </p> - <p> - ASSIGNATS, origin of, false Royalist, forgers of, coach-fare in. - </p> - <p> - AUBRIOT, Sieur, after King’s capture. - </p> - <p> - AUBRY, Colonel, at Jalès. - </p> - <p> - AUCH, M. Martin d’, in Versailles Court. - </p> - <p> - AUSTRIA quarrels with France. - </p> - <p> - AUSTRIAN Committee, at Tuileries. - </p> - <p> - AUSTRIAN Army, invades France, defeated at Jemappes, Dumouriez escapes to, - repulsed, Watigny. - </p> - <p> - AVIGNON, Union of, described, state of, riot in church at, occupied by - Jourdan, massacre at. - </p> - <p> - BACHAUMONT, his thirty volumes. - </p> - <p> - BAILLE, involuntary epigram of. - </p> - <p> - BAILLY, Astronomer, account of, President of National Assembly, Mayor of - Paris, receives Louis in Paris, and Paris Parlement, on Petition for - Deposition, decline of, in prison, at Queen’s trial, guillotined cruelly. - </p> - <p> - BAKERS’, French in tail at. - </p> - <p> - BARBAROUX and Marat, Marseilles Deputy, and the Rolands, on Map of France, - demand of, to Marseilles, meets Marseillese, in National Convention, - against Robespierre, cannot be heard, the Girondins declining, arrested, - and Charlotte Corday, retreats to Bourdeaux, farewell of, shoots himself. - </p> - <p> - BARDY, Abbé, massacred. - </p> - <p> - BARENTIN, Keeper of Seals. - </p> - <p> - BARNAVE, at Grenoble, member of Assembly, one of a trio, Jacobin, duel - with Cazalès, escorts the King from Varennes, conciliates Queen, becomes - Constitutional, retires to Grenoble, treason, in prison, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - BARRAS, Paul-François, in National Convention, commands in Thermidor, - appoints Napoleon in Vendémiaire. - </p> - <p> - BARRERE, Editor, at King’s trial, peace-maker, levy in mass, plot, - banished. - </p> - <p> - BARTHOLOMEW massacre. - </p> - <p> - BASTILLE, Linguet’s Book on, meaning of, shots fired at, summoned by - insurgents, besieged, capitulates, treatment of captured, Queret-Demery, - demolished, key sent to Washington, Heroes. - </p> - <p> - BAZIRE, of Mountain, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - BEARN, riot at. - </p> - <p> - BEAUHARNAIS in Champ-de-Mars, Josephine, imprisoned, and Napoleon, at La - Cabarus’s. - </p> - <p> - BEAUMARCHAIS, Caron, his lawsuit, his “Mariage de Figaro,” commissions - arms from Holland, his distress. - </p> - <p> - BEAUMONT, Archbishop, notice of. - </p> - <p> - BEAUREPAIRE, Governor of Verdun, shoots himself. - </p> - <p> - BENTHAM, Jeremy, naturalised. - </p> - <p> - BERLINE, towards Varennes. - </p> - <p> - BERTHIER, Intendant, fled, arrested and massacred. - </p> - <p> - BERTHIER, Commandant, at Versailles. - </p> - <p> - BESENVAL, Baron, Commandant of Paris, on French Finance, in riot of Rue - St. Antoine, on corruption of Guards, at Champ-de-Mars, apparition to, - decamps, and Louis XVI. - </p> - <p> - BETHUNE, riot at. - </p> - <p> - BEURNONVILLE, with Dumouriez, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - BILLAUD-VARENNES, Jacobin, cruel, at massacres, September 1792, in Salut - Committee, and Robespierre’s Être Suprême, accuses Robespierre, accused, - banished. - </p> - <p> - BLANC, Le, landlord at Varennes, escape of family. - </p> - <p> - BLOOD, baths of. - </p> - <p> - BONCHAMPS, in La Vendée War. - </p> - <p> - BONNEMERE, Aubin, at Siege of Bastille. - </p> - <p> - BOUILLE, at Metz, account of, character of, troops mutinous, and Salm - regiment, intrepidity of, marches on Nanci, quells Nanci mutineers, at - Mirabeau’s funeral, expects fugitive King, would liberate King, emigrates. - </p> - <p> - BOUILLE, Junior, asleep at Varennes, flies to father. - </p> - <p> - BOURDEAUX, priests hanged at, for Girondism. - </p> - <p> - BOYER, duellist. - </p> - <p> - BREST, sailors revolt, state of, in 1791, Fédérés in Paris, in 1793. - </p> - <p> - BRETEUIL, Home-Secretary. - </p> - <p> - BRETON Club, germ of Jacobins. - </p> - <p> - BRETONS, deputations of, Girondins. - </p> - <p> - BREZE, Marquis de, his mode of ushering, and National Assembly, - extraordinary etiquette. - </p> - <p> - BRIENNE, Loménie, anti-protestant, in Notables, incapacity of, failure of, - arrests Paris Parlement, secret scheme, scheme discovered, arrests two - Parlementeers, bewildered, desperate shifts by, wishes for Necker, - dismissed, and provided for, his effigy burnt. - </p> - <p> - BRISSAC, Duke de, commands Constitutional Guard, disbanded. - </p> - <p> - BRISSOT, edits “Moniteur,” friend of Blacks, in First Parliament, plans in - 1792, active in Assembly, in Jacobins, at Roland’s, pelted in Assembly, - arrested, trial of, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - BRITTANY, disturbances in. - </p> - <p> - BROGLIE, Marshal, against Plenary Court, in command, in office, dismissed. - </p> - <p> - BRUNSWICK, Duke, marches on France, advances, Proclamation, at Verdun, at - Argonne, retreats. - </p> - <p> - BUFFON, Mme. de, and Duke d’Orléans, at d’Orléans execution. - </p> - <p> - BUTTAFUOCO, Napoleon’s letter to. - </p> - <p> - BUZOT, in National Convention, arrested, retreats to Bourdeaux, end of. - </p> - <p> - CABANIS, Physician to Mirabeau. - </p> - <p> - CABARUS, Mlle., and Tallien, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - CAEN, Girondins at. - </p> - <p> - CALENDAR, Romme’s new, comparative ground-scheme of. - </p> - <p> - CALONNE, M. de, Financier, character of, suavity and genius of, his - difficulties, dismissed, marriage and after-course. - </p> - <p> - CALVADOS, for Girondism. - </p> - <p> - CAMUS, Archivist, in National Convention, with Dumouriez, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - CANNON, Siamese, wooden, fever, Goethe on. - </p> - <p> - CARMAGNOLE, costume, what, dances in Convention. - </p> - <p> - CARNOT, Hippolyte, notice of, plan for Toulon, discovery in Robespierre’s - pocket. - </p> - <p> - CARPENTRAS, against Avignon. - </p> - <p> - CARRA, on plots for King’s flight, in National Convention. - </p> - <p> - CARRIER, a Revolutionist, in National Assembly, Nantes noyades, - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - CARTAUX, General, fights Girondins, at Toulon. - </p> - <p> - CASTRIES, Duke de, duel with Lameth. - </p> - <p> - CATHELINEAU, of La Vendée. - </p> - <p> - CAVAIGNAC, Convention Representative. - </p> - <p> - CAZALES, Royalist, in Constituent Assembly. - </p> - <p> - CAZOTTE, author of “Diable Amoureux,” seized, saved for a time by his - daughter. - </p> - <p> - CERCLE, Social, of Fauchet. - </p> - <p> - CERUTTI, his funeral oration on Mirabeau. - </p> - <p> - CEVENNES, revolt of. - </p> - <p> - CHABOT, of Mountain, against Kings, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - CHABRAY, Louison, at Versailles, October Fifth. - </p> - <p> - CHALIER, Jacobin, Lyons, executed, body raised. - </p> - <p> - CHAMBON, Dr., Mayor of Paris, retires. - </p> - <p> - CHAMFORT, Cynic, arrested, suicide. - </p> - <p> - CHAMP-DE-MARS, Federation, preparations for, accelerated by patriots, - anecdotes of, Federation-scene at, funeral-service, Nanci, riot, Patriot - petition, 1791, new Federation, 1792. - </p> - <p> - CHAMPS Elysées, Menads at, festivities in. - </p> - <p> - CHANTILLY Palace, a prison. - </p> - <p> - CHAPT-RASTIGNAC, Abbé de, massacred. - </p> - <p> - CHARENTON, Marseillese at. - </p> - <p> - CHARLES I., Trial of, sold in Paris. - </p> - <p> - CHARLEVILLE Artillery. - </p> - <p> - CHARTRES, grain-riot at. - </p> - <p> - CHATEAUBRIANDS in French Revolution. - </p> - <p> - CHATELET, Achille de, advises Republic. - </p> - <p> - CHATILLON-SUR-SEVRE, insurrection at. - </p> - <p> - CHAUMETTE, notice of, signs petition, in governing committee, at King’s - trial, demands constitution, arrest and death of. - </p> - <p> - CHAUVELIN, Marquis de, in London, dismissed. - </p> - <p> - CHENAYE, Baudin de la, massacred. - </p> - <p> - CHENIER, Poet, and Mlle. Théroigne. - </p> - <p> - CHEPY, at La Force in September. - </p> - <p> - CHOISEUL, Duke, why dismissed. - </p> - <p> - CHOISEUL, Colonel Duke, assists Louis’s flight, too late at Varennes. - </p> - <p> - CHOISI, General, at Avignon. - </p> - <p> - CHURCH, spiritual guidance, of Rome, decay of. - </p> - <p> - CITIZENS, French, demeanour of. - </p> - <p> - CLAIRFAIT, Commander of Austrians. - </p> - <p> - CLAVIERE, edits “Moniteur,” account of, Finance Minister, arrested, - suicide of. - </p> - <p> - CLERGY, French, in States-General, conciliators of orders, joins Third - Estate, lands, national, power of, &c. - </p> - <p> - CLERMONT, flight of King through, Prussians near. - </p> - <p> - CLERY, on Louis’s last scene. - </p> - <p> - CLOOTZ, Anacharsis, Baron de, account of, disparagement of, in National - Convention, universal republic of, on nullity of religion, purged from the - Jacobins, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - CLOVIS, in the Champ-de-Mars. - </p> - <p> - CLUB, Electoral, at Paris, becomes Provisional Municipality, permanent. - </p> - <p> - CLUGNY, M., as Finance Minister. - </p> - <p> - COBLENTZ, Emigrants at. - </p> - <p> - COBOURG and Dumouriez. - </p> - <p> - COCKADES, green, tricolor, black, national, trampled, white. - </p> - <p> - COFFINHAL, Judge, delivers Henriot. - </p> - <p> - COIGNY, Duke de, a sinecurist. - </p> - <p> - COMMISSIONERS, Convention, like Kings. - </p> - <p> - COMMITTEE of Defence, Central, of Watchfulness, of Public Salvation, - Circular of, of the Constitution, Revolutionary. - </p> - <p> - COMMUNE, Council-General of the, Sovereign of France, enlisting. - </p> - <p> - CONDE, Prince de, attends Louis XV., departure of. - </p> - <p> - CONDE, Town, surrender of. - </p> - <p> - CONDORCET, Marquis, edits “Moniteur,” Girondist, prepares Address, on - Robespierre, death of. - </p> - <p> - CONSTITUTION, French, completed, will not march, burst in pieces, new, of - 1793. - </p> - <p> - CONVENTION, National, in what case to be summoned, demanded by some, - determined on, Deputies elected, constituted, motions in, work to be done, - hated, politeness, effervescence of, on September Massacres, guard for, - try the King, debate on trial, invite to revolt, condemn Louis, armed - Girondins in, power of, removes to Tuileries, besieged, June 2nd, 1793, - extinction of Girondins, Jacobins and, on forfeited property, Carmagnole, - Goddess of Reason, Representatives, at Feast of Être Suprême, end of - Robespierre, retrospect of, Féraud, Germinal, Prairial, termination, its - successor. - </p> - <p> - CORDAY, Charlotte, account of, in Paris, assissinates Marat, examined, - executed. - </p> - <p> - CORDELIERS, Club, Hébert in. - </p> - <p> - COURT, Chevalier de. - </p> - <p> - COUTHON, of Mountain, in Legislative, in National Convention, at Lyons, in - Salut Committee, his question in Jacobins, decree of, arrest and - execution. - </p> - <p> - COVENANT, Scotch, French. - </p> - <p> - CRUSSOL, Marquise de, executed. - </p> - <p> - CUISSA, massacre of, at La Force. - </p> - <p> - CUSSY, Girondin, retreats to Bourdeaux. - </p> - <p> - CUSTINE, General, takes Mentz, retreats, censured, guillotined, his son - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - CUSTOMS and morals. - </p> - <p> - DAMAS, Colonel Comte de, at Clermont, at Varennes. - </p> - <p> - DAMPIERRE, General, killed. - </p> - <p> - DAMPMARTIN, Captain, at riot in Rue St. Antoine, on condition of army, on - state of France, at Avignon, on Marseillese. - </p> - <p> - DANDOINS, Captain, Flight to Varennes. - </p> - <p> - DANTON, notice of, President of Cordeliers, and Marat, served with writs, - in Cordeliers Club, elected Councillor, Mirabeau of Sansculottes, in - Jacobins, for Deposition, of Committee, August Tenth, Minister of Justice, - after September massacre, after Jemappes, and Robespierre, in Netherlands, - at King’s trial, on war, rebukes Marat, peace-maker, and Dumouriez, in - Salut Committee, breaks with Girondins, his law of Forty sous, and - Revolutionary Government, and Paris Municipality, retires to Arcis, and - Robespierre, arrested, tried, and guillotined. - </p> - <p> - DAVID, Painter, in National Convention, works by, hemlock with - Robespierre. - </p> - <p> - DEMOCRACY, on Bunker Hill, spread of, in France. - </p> - <p> - DEPARTMENTS, France divided into. - </p> - <p> - DESEZE, Pleader for Louis. - </p> - <p> - DESHUTTES massacred, Fifth October. - </p> - <p> - DESILLES, Captain, in Nanci. - </p> - <p> - DESLONS, Captain, at Varennes, would liberate the King. - </p> - <p> - DESMOULINS, Camille, notice of, in arms at Café de Foy, on Insurrection of - Women, in Cordeliers Club, and Brissot, in National Convention, on - Sansculottism, on plots, suspect, for a committee of mercy, ridicules law - of the suspect, his Journal, trial of, guillotined, widow guillotined. - </p> - <p> - DIDEROT, prisoner in Vincennes. - </p> - <p> - DINNERS, defined. - </p> - <p> - DOPPET, General, at Lyons. - </p> - <p> - DROUET, Jean B., notice of, discovers Royalty in flight, raises Varennes, - blocks the bridge, defends his prize, rewarded, to be in Convention, - captured by Austrians. - </p> - <p> - DUBARRY, Dame, and Louis XV., flight of, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - DUBOIS Crancé bombards and captures Lyons. - </p> - <p> - DUCHATEL votes, wrapped in blankets, at Caen. - </p> - <p> - DUCOS, Girondin. - </p> - <p> - DUGOMMIER, General, at Toulon. - </p> - <p> - DUHAMEL, killed by Marseillese. - </p> - <p> - DUMONT, on Mirabeau. - </p> - <p> - DUMOURIEZ, notice by, account of him, in Brittany, at Nantes, in La - Vendée, sent for to Paris, Foreign Minister, dismissed, to Army, disobeys - Lückner, Commander-in-Chief, his army, Council of War, seizes Argonne - Forest, Grand Pre, and mutineers, and Marat in Paris, to Netherlands, at - Jemappes, in Paris, discontented, retreats, beaten, will join the enemy, - arrests his arresters, escapes to Austrians. - </p> - <p> - DUPONT, Deputy, Atheist. - </p> - <p> - DUPORT, Adrien, in Paris Parlement, in Constituent Assembly, one of a - trio, law-reformer. - </p> - <p> - DUPORTAIL, in office. - </p> - <p> - DUROSOY, Royalist, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - DUSAULX, M., on taking of Bastille, notice of. - </p> - <p> - DUTERTRE, in office. - </p> - <p> - EDGEWORTH, Abbé, attends Louis, at execution of Louis. - </p> - <p> - EGLANTINE, Fabre d’, in National Convention, assists in New Calendar, - imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - ELIE, Capt., at Siege of Bastille, after victory. - </p> - <p> - ELIZABETH, Princess, flight to Varennes, August 10th, in Temple Prison, - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ENGLAND declares war on France, captures Toulon. - </p> - <p> - ENRAGED Club, the. - </p> - <p> - EQUALITY, reign of. - </p> - <p> - ESCUYER, Patriot l’, at Avignon. - </p> - <p> - ESPREMENIL, Duval d’, notice of, patriot, speaker in Paris Parlement, with - crucifix, discovers Brienne’s plot, arrest and speech of, turncoat, in - Constituent Assembly, beaten by populace, guillotined, widow guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ESTAING, Count d’, notice of, National Colonel, Royalist, at Queen’s - Trial. - </p> - <p> - ESTATE, Fourth, of Editors. - </p> - <p> - ETOILE, beginning of Federation at. - </p> - <p> - FAMINE, in France, in 1788-1792, Louis and Assembly try to relieve, in - 1792, and remedy, remedy by maximum, &c. - </p> - <p> - FAUCHET, Abbé, at siege of Bastille, his Te-Deums, his harangue on - Franklin, his Cercle Social, in First Parliament, motion by, doffs his - insignia, King’s death, lamentation, will demit, trial of. - </p> - <p> - FAUSSIGNY, sword in hand. - </p> - <p> - FAVRAS, Chevalier, execution of. - </p> - <p> - FEDERATION, spread of, of Champ-de-Mars, deputies to, human species at, - ceremonies of, a new, 1792. - </p> - <p> - FERAUD, in National Convention, massacred there. - </p> - <p> - FERSEN, Count, gets Berline built, acts coachman in King’s flight. - </p> - <p> - FEUILLANS, Club, denounce Jacobins, decline, extinguished, Battalion, - Justices and Patriotism. - </p> - <p> - FINANCES, serious state of, how to be improved. - </p> - <p> - FLANDERS, how Louis XV. conquers. - </p> - <p> - FLANDRE, regiment de, at Versailles. - </p> - <p> - FLESSELLES, Paris Provost, shot. - </p> - <p> - FLEURIOT, Mayor, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - FLEURY, Joly de, Controller of Finance. - </p> - <p> - FONTENAI, Mme. - </p> - <p> - FORSTER (FOSTER), and French soldier, account of. - </p> - <p> - FOUCHE, at Lyons. - </p> - <p> - FOULON, bad repute of, sobriquet, funeral of, alive, judged, massacred. - </p> - <p> - FOURNIER, and Orleans Prisoners. - </p> - <p> - FOY, Café de, revolutionary. - </p> - <p> - FRANCE, abject, under Louis XV., Kings of, early history of, decay of - Kingship in, on accession of Louis XVI., and Philosophy, famine in, 1775, - state of, prior Revolution, aids America, in 1788, inflammable, July 1789, - gibbets, general overturn, how to reform, riotousness of, Mirabeau and, - after King’s flight, petitions against Royalty, warfare of towns in, - European league against, terror of, in Spring 1792, decree of war, France - in danger, general enlisting, rage of, Autumn 1792, Marat’s Circular, - September, Sansculottic, declaration of war, Mountain and Girondins - divide, communes of, coalition against, levy in mass. - </p> - <p> - FRANKLIN, Ambassador to France, his death lamented, bust in Jacobins. - </p> - <p> - FRENCH Anglomania, character of the, literature, in 1784, Parlements, - nature of, Mirabeau, type of the, mob, character of. - </p> - <p> - FRERON, notice of, renegade, Gilt Youth of. - </p> - <p> - FRETEAU, at Royal Session, arrested, liberated. - </p> - <p> - FREYS, the Jew brokers, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - GALLOIS, to La Vendée. - </p> - <p> - GAMAIN, Sieur, informer. - </p> - <p> - GARAT, Minister of Justice. - </p> - <p> - GENLIS, Mme., account of, and D’Orléans, to Switzerland. - </p> - <p> - GENSONNE, Girondist, to La Vendée, arrested, trial of. - </p> - <p> - GEORGES-CADOUDAL, in La Vendée. - </p> - <p> - GEORGET, at taking of Bastille. - </p> - <p> - GERARD, Farmer, Rennes deputy. - </p> - <p> - GERLE, Dom, at Theot’s. - </p> - <p> - GERMINAL Twelfth, First of April 1795. - </p> - <p> - GIRONDINS, origin of term, in National Convention, against Robespierre, on - King’s trial, and Jacobins, formula of, favourers of, schemes of, to be - seized? break with Danton, armed against Mountain, accuse Marat, - departments, commission of twelve, commission broken, arrested, dispersed, - war by, retreat of eleven, trial and death of. - </p> - <p> - GOBEL, Archbishop to be, renounces religion, arrested, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - GOETHE, at Argonne, in Prussian retreat, at Mentz. - </p> - <p> - GOGUELAT, Engineer, assists Louis’s flight, intrigues. - </p> - <p> - GONDRAN, captain of Guard. - </p> - <p> - GORSAS, Journalist, pleads for Swiss, in National Convention, his house - broken into, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - GOUJON, Member of Convention, in riot of Prairial, suicide of. - </p> - <p> - GOUPIL, on extreme left. - </p> - <p> - GOUVION, Major-General, at Paris, flight to Varennes, death of. - </p> - <p> - GOVERNMENT, Maurepas’s, bad state of French, French revolutionary, Danton - on. - </p> - <p> - GRAVE, Chev. de, War Minister, loses head. - </p> - <p> - GREGOIRE, Curé, notice of, in National Convention, detained in Convention, - and destruction of religion. - </p> - <p> - GUADET, Girondin, cross-questions Ministers, arrested, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - GUARDS, Swiss, and French, at Réveillon riot, French refuse to fire, come - to Palais-Royal, fire on Royal-Allemand, to Bastille, name changed, - National origin of, number of, Body at Versailles, October Fifth, fight, - fly in Château, Body, and French, at Versailles, National, at Nanci, - French, last appearance of, National, how commanded, 1791, Constitutional, - dismissed, Filles-St.-Thomas, routed, Swiss, at Tuileries, ordered to - cease, destroyed, eulogy of, Departmental, for National Convention. - </p> - <p> - GUILLAUME, Clerk, pursues King. - </p> - <p> - GUILLOTIN, Doctor, summoned by Paris Parlement, invents the guillotine, - deputed to King. - </p> - <p> - GUILLOTINE invented, described, in action, to be improved, number of - sufferers by. - </p> - <p> - HASSENFRATZ, in War-office. - </p> - <p> - HÉBERT, Editor of “Père Duchene,” signs petition, arrested, at Queen’s - trial, quickens Revolutionary Tribunal, arrested, and guillotined, widow - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - HENAULT, President, on Surnames. - </p> - <p> - HENRIOT, General of National Guard, and the Convention, to deliver - Robespierre, seized, rescued, end of. - </p> - <p> - HERBOIS, Collot d’, notice of, in National Convention, at Lyons massacre, - in Salut Committee, attempt to assassinate, bullied at Jacobins, - President, night of Thermidor, accused, banished. - </p> - <p> - HERITIER, Jerome l’, shot at Versailles. - </p> - <p> - HOCHE, Sergeant Lazare, General against Prussia, pacifies La Vendée, - </p> - <p> - HONDSCHOOTEN, Battle of. - </p> - <p> - HOTEL des Invalides, plundered. - </p> - <p> - HOTEL de Ville, after Bastille taken, harangues at. - </p> - <p> - HOUCHARD, General, unsuccessful. - </p> - <p> - HOWE, Lord, defeats French. - </p> - <p> - HUGUENIN, Patriot, tocsin in heart, 20th June 1792. - </p> - <p> - HULIN, half-pay, at siege of Bastille. - </p> - <p> - INISDAL’S, Count d’, plot. - </p> - <p> - INSURRECTION, most sacred of duties, of Women, of August Tenth, difficult, - of Paris, against Girondins, sacred right of, last Sansculottic, of - Baboeuf. - </p> - <p> - ISNARD, Max, notice of, in First Parliament, on Ministers, to demolish - Paris. - </p> - <p> - JACOB, Jean Claude, father of men. - </p> - <p> - JACOBINS, Society, beginning of, Hall, described, and members, Journal - &c., of, daughters of, at Nanci, suppressed, Club increases, and - Mirabeau, prospers, “Lords of the Articles,” extinguishes Feuillans, Hall - enlarged, described, and Marseillese, and Lavergne, message to Dumouriez, - missionaries in Army, on King’s trial, on accusation of Robespierre, - against Girondins, National Convention and, Popular Tribunals of, purges - members, to become dominant, locked out by Legendre, begs back its keys, - decline of, mobbed, suspended, hunted down. - </p> - <p> - JALES, Camp of, Royalists at, destroyed. - </p> - <p> - JAUCOURT, Chevalier, and Liberty. - </p> - <p> - JAY, Dame le. - </p> - <p> - JONES, Paul, equipped for America, at Paris, account of, burial of. - </p> - <p> - JOUNNEAU, Deputy, in danger in September. - </p> - <p> - JOURDAN, General, repels Austria. - </p> - <p> - JOURDAN, Coupe-tete, at Versailles, leader of Brigands, supreme in - Avignon, massacre by, flight of, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - JULIEN, Sieur Jean, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - KAUNITZ, Prince, denounces Jacobins. - </p> - <p> - KELLERMANN, at Valmy. - </p> - <p> - KLOPSTOCK, naturalised. - </p> - <p> - KNOX, John, and the Virgin. - </p> - <p> - KORFF, Baroness de, in flight to Varennes. - </p> - <p> - LAFARGE, President of Jacobins, Madame Lavergne and. - </p> - <p> - LAFAYETTE, bust of, erected, against Calonne, demands by, in Notables, - Cromwell-Grandison, Bastille time, Vice-President of National Assembly, - General of National Guard, resigns and reaccepts, Scipio-Americanus, - thanked, rewarded, French Guards and, to Versailles, Fifth October, at - Versailles, swears the Guards, Feuillant, on abolition of Titles, at - Champ-de-Mars Federation, at De Castries’ riot, character of, in Day of - Poniards, difficult position of, at King’s going to St. Cloud, resigns and - reaccepts, at flight from Tuileries, after escape of King, moves for - amnesty, resigns, decline of, doubtful against Jacobins, journey to Paris, - to be accused, flies to Holland. - </p> - <p> - LAFLOTTE, poison-plot, informer. - </p> - <p> - LAIS, Sieur, Jacobin, with Louis Philippe. - </p> - <p> - LALLY, death of. - </p> - <p> - LAMARCHE, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LAMARCK’S, illness of Mirabeau at. - </p> - <p> - LAMBALLE, Princess de, to England, intrigues for Royalists, at La Force, - massacred. - </p> - <p> - LAMETH, in Constituent Assembly, one of a trio, brothers, notice of, - Jacobins, Charles, Duke de Castries, brothers become constitutional, - Theodore, in First Parliament. - </p> - <p> - LAMOIGNON, Keeper of Seals, dismissed, effigy burned, and death of. - </p> - <p> - LAMOTTE, Countess de, and Diamond Necklace, in the Salpêtrière, “Memoirs” - burned, in London, M. de, in prison. - </p> - <p> - LAMOURETTE, Abbé, kiss of, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LANJUINAIS, Girondin, clothes torn, arrested, recalled. - </p> - <p> - LAPORTE, Intendant, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LARIVIERE, Justice, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - LA ROCHEJACQUELIN, in La Vendée, death of. - </p> - <p> - LASOURCE, accuses Danton, president, and Marat, arrested, condemned. - </p> - <p> - LATOUR-MAUBOURG, notice of. - </p> - <p> - LAUNAY, Marquis de, Governor of Bastille, besieged, unassisted, to blow up - Bastille, massacred. - </p> - <p> - LAVERGNE, surrenders Longwi. - </p> - <p> - LAVOISIER, Chemist, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LAW, Martial, in Paris, Book of the. - </p> - <p> - LAWYERS, their influence on the Revolution, number of, in Tiers Etat, in - Parliament First. - </p> - <p> - LAZARE, Maison de St., plundered. - </p> - <p> - LEBAS at Strasburg, arrested, - </p> - <p> - LEBON, Priest, in National Convention, at Arras, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LECHAPELIER, Deputy, and Insurrection of Women. - </p> - <p> - LECOINTRE, National Major, will not fight, active, in First Parliament. - </p> - <p> - LEFEVRE, Abbé, distributes powder. - </p> - <p> - LEGENDRE, in danger, at Tuileries riot, in National Convention, against - Girondins, for Danton, locks out Jacobins, in First of Prairial. - </p> - <p> - LENFANT, Abbé, on Protestant claims, massacred. - </p> - <p> - LEPELLETIER, Section for Convention, revolt of, in Vendémiaire. - </p> - <p> - LETTRES-DE-CACHET, and Parlement of Paris. - </p> - <p> - LEVASSEUR, in National Convention, Convention Representative. - </p> - <p> - LIANCOURT, Duke de, Liberal, not a revolt, but a revolution. - </p> - <p> - LIES, Philosophism on, to be extinguished, how. - </p> - <p> - LIGNE, Prince de, death of. - </p> - <p> - LILLE, Colonel Rouget de, Marseillese Hymn. - </p> - <p> - LILLE, besieged. - </p> - <p> - LINGUET, his “Bastille Unveiled,” returns. - </p> - <p> - LOISEROLLES, General, guillotined for his son. - </p> - <p> - LONGWI, surrender of, fugitives at Paris. - </p> - <p> - LORDS of the Articles, Jacobins as. - </p> - <p> - LORRAINE Fédérés and the Queen, state of, in 1790. - </p> - <p> - LOUIS XIV., l’etat c’est moi, booted in Parlement, pursues Louvois. - </p> - <p> - LOUIS XV., origin of his surname, last illness of, dismisses Dame Dubarry, - Choiseul, wounded, has small-pox, his mode of conquest, impoverishes - France, his daughters, on death, on ministerial capacity, death and burial - of. - </p> - <p> - LOUIS XVI., at his accession, good measures of, temper and pursuits of, - difficulties of, commences governing, and Notables, holds Royal Session, - receives States-General Deputies, in States-General procession, speech to - States-General, National Assembly, unwise policy of, dismisses Necker, - apprised of the Revolution, conciliatory, visits Assembly, Bastille, - visits Paris, deserted, will fly, languid, at Dinner of Guards, deposition - of, proposed, October Fifth, women deputies, to fly or not? grants the - acceptance, Paris propositions to, in the Château tumult, appears to mob, - will go to Paris, his wisest course, procession to Paris, review of his - position, lodged at Tuileries, Restorer of French Liberty, no hunting, - locksmith, schemes, visits Assembly, Federation, Hereditary - Representative, will fly, and D’Inisdal’s plot, Mirabeau, useless, - indecision of, ill of catarrh, prepares for St. Cloud, hindered by - populace, effect, should he escape, prepares for flight, his circular, - flies, letter to Assembly, manner of flight, loiters by the way, detected - by Drouet, captured at Varennes, indecision there, return to Paris, - reception there, to be deposed? reinstated, reception of Legislative, - position of, proposes war, with tears, vetoes, dissolves Roland Ministry, - in riot of, June 20, and Pétion, at Federation, with cuirass, declared - forfeited, last levee of, Tenth August, quits Tuileries for Assembly, in - Assembly, sent to Temple prison, in Temple, to be tried, and the Locksmith - Gamain, at the bar, his will, condemned, parting scene, and execution of, - his son. - </p> - <p> - LOUIS-PHILIPPE, King of the French, Jacobin door-keeper, at Valmy, bravery - at Jemappes, and sister, with Dumouriez to Austrians, to Switzerland. - </p> - <p> - LOUSTALOT, Editor. - </p> - <p> - LOUVET, his “Chevalier de Faublas,” his “Sentinelles,” and Robespierre, in - National Convention, Girondin accuses Robespierre, arrested, retreats to - Bourdeaux, escape of, recalled. - </p> - <p> - LUCKNER, Supreme General, and Dumouriez, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LUNEVILLE, Inspector Malseigne at. - </p> - <p> - LUX, Adam, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - LYONS, Federation at, disorders in, Chalier, Jacobin, executed at, capture - of magazine, massacres at. - </p> - <p> - MAILHE, Deputy, on trial of Louis. - </p> - <p> - MAILLARD, Usher, at siege of Bastille, Insurrection of Women, drum, Champs - Elysées, entering Versailles, addresses National Assembly there, signs - Déchéance petition, in September Massacres. - </p> - <p> - MAILLE, Camp-Marshal, at Tuileries, massacred at La Force. - </p> - <p> - MAILLY, Marshal, one of Four Generals. - </p> - <p> - MALESHERBES, M. de, in King’s Council, defends Louis. - </p> - <p> - MALSEIGNE, Army Inspector, at Nanci, imprisoned, liberated. - </p> - <p> - MANDAT, Commander of Guards, August, 1792. - </p> - <p> - MANUEL, Jacobin, slow-sure, in August Tenth, in Governing Committee, - haranguing at La Force, in National Convention, motions in, vote at King’s - trial, in prison, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - MARAT, Jean Paul, horseleech to D’Artois, notice of, against violence, at - siege of Bastille, summoned by Constituent, not to be gagged, astir, how - to regenerate France, police and, on abolition of titles, would gibbet - Mirabeau, bust in Jacobins, concealed in cellars, in seat of honour, signs - circular, elected to Convention, and Dumouriez, oaths by, in Convention, - on sufferings of People, and Girondins, arrested, returns in triumph, fall - of Girondins. - </p> - <p> - MARECHAL, Atheist, Calendar by. - </p> - <p> - MARECHALE, the Lady, on nobility. - </p> - <p> - MARSEILLES, Brigands at, on Déchéance, the bar of iron, for Girondism. - </p> - <p> - MARSEILLESE, March and Hymn of, at Charenton, at Paris, Filles-St.-Thomas - and, barracks. - </p> - <p> - MASSACRE, Avignon, September, number slain in, compared to Bartholomew. - </p> - <p> - MATON, Advocate, his “Resurrection.” - </p> - <p> - MAUPEOU, under Louis XV., and Dame Dubarry. - </p> - <p> - MAUREPAS, Prime Minister, character of, government of, death of. - </p> - <p> - MAURY, Abbé, character of, in Constituent Assembly, seized emigrating, - dogmatic, efforts fruitless, made Cardinal. - </p> - <p> - MEMMAY, M., of Quincey, explosion of rustics. - </p> - <p> - MENOU, General, arrest of. - </p> - <p> - MENTZ, occupied by French, siege of, surrender of. - </p> - <p> - MERCIER, on Paris revolting, Editor, the September Massacre, in National - Convention, King’s trial. - </p> - <p> - MERLIN of Thionville in Mountain, irascible, at Mentz. - </p> - <p> - MERLIN of Douai, Law of Suspect. - </p> - <p> - METZ, Bouillé at, troops mutinous at. - </p> - <p> - MEUDON tannery. - </p> - <p> - MIOMANDRE de Ste. Marie, Bodyguard, October Fifth, left for dead, revives, - rewarded. - </p> - <p> - MIRABEAU, Marquis, on the state of France in 1775, and his son, his death. - </p> - <p> - MIRABEAU, Count, his pamphlets, the Notables, Lettres-de-Cachet against, - expelled by the Provence Noblesse, cloth-shop, is Deputy for Aix, king of - Frenchmen, family of, wanderings of, his future course, groaned at, in - Assembly, his newspaper suppressed, silences Usher de Brézé, at Bastille - ruins, on Robespierre, fame of, on French deficit, populace, on veto, - Mounier, October Fifth, insight of, defends veto, courage, revenue of, - saleable? and Danton, on Constitution, at Jacobins, his courtship, on - state of Army, Marat would gibbet, his power in France, on D’Orléans, on - duelling, interview with Queen, speech on emigrants, the “trente voix,” in - Council, his plans for France, probable career of, last appearance in - Assembly, anxiety of populace for, last sayings of, death and funeral of, - burial-place of, character of, last of Mirabeaus, bust in Jacobins, bust - demolished. - </p> - <p> - MIRABEAU the younger, nicknamed Tonneau, in Constituent Assembly, breaks - his sword. - </p> - <p> - MIRANDA, General, attempts Holland. - </p> - <p> - MIROMENIL, Keeper of Seals. - </p> - <p> - MOLEVILLE, Bertrand de, Historian, minister, his plan, frivolous policy - of, and D’Orléans, Jesuitic, concealed. - </p> - <p> - MOMORO, Bookseller, agrarian, arrested, guillotined, his Wife, “Goddess of - Reason.” - </p> - <p> - MONGE, Mathematician, in office, assists in new Calendar. - </p> - <p> - MONSABERT, G. de, President of Paris Parlement, arrested. - </p> - <p> - MONTELIMART, covenant sworn at. - </p> - <p> - MONTESQUIOU, General, takes Savoy. - </p> - <p> - MONTGAILLARD, on captive Queen, on September Massacres. - </p> - <p> - MONTMARTRE, trenches at. - </p> - <p> - MONTMORIN, War-Secretary. - </p> - <p> - MOORE, Doctor, at attack of Tuileries, at La Force. - </p> - <p> - MORANDE, De, newspaper by, will return, in prison. - </p> - <p> - MORELLET, Philosophe. - </p> - <p> - MOUCHETON, M. de, of King’s Bodyguard. - </p> - <p> - MOUDON, Abbé, confessor to Louis XV. - </p> - <p> - MOUNIER, at Grenoble, proposes Tennis-Court oath, October Fifth, President - of Constituent Assembly, deputed to King, dilemma of. - </p> - <p> - MOUNTAIN, members of the, re-elected in National Convention, Gironde and, - favourers of the, vulnerable points of, prevails, Danton, Duperret, after - Gironde dispersed, in labour. - </p> - <p> - MULLER, General, expedition to Spain. - </p> - <p> - MURAT, in Vendémiaire revolt. - </p> - <p> - NANCI, revolt at, description of town, deputation imprisoned, deputation - of mutineers, state of mutineers in, Bouillé’s fight, Paris thereupon, - military executions at, Assembly Commissioners. - </p> - <p> - NANTES, after King’s flight, massacres at. - </p> - <p> - NAPOLEON Buonaparte (Buonaparte) studying mathematics, pamphlet by, - democratic, in Corsica, August Tenth, under General Cartaux, at Toulon, - Josephine and, at La Cabarus’s, Vendémiaire. - </p> - <p> - NARBONNE, Louis de, assists flight of King’s Aunts, to be War-Minister, - demands by, secreted, escapes. - </p> - <p> - NAVY, Louis XV. on French. - </p> - <p> - NECKER, and finance, account of, dismissed, refuses Brienne, recalled, - difficulty as to States-General, reconvokes Notables, opinion of himself, - popular, dismissed, recalled, returns in glory, his plans, becoming - unpopular, departs, with difficulty. - </p> - <p> - NECKLACE, Diamond. - </p> - <p> - NERWINDEN, battle of. - </p> - <p> - NIEVRE-CHOL, Mayor of Lyons. - </p> - <p> - NOBLES, state of the, under Louis XV., new, join Third Estate. - </p> - <p> - NOTABLES, Calonne’s convocation of, assembled 22nd February 1787, - members of, effects of dismissal of, reconvoked, 6th November 1788, - dismissed again. - </p> - <p> - NOYADES, Nantes. - </p> - <p> - OCTOBER Fifth, 1789 - </p> - <p> - OGE, condemned. - </p> - <p> - ORLEANS, High Court at, prisoners massacred at Versailles. - </p> - <p> - ORLEANS, a Duke d’, in Louis XV.”s sick-room. - </p> - <p> - ORLEANS, Philippe (Egalité), Duc d’, Duke de Chartres (till 1785), - waits on Dauphin, Father, with Louis XV., not Admiral, wealth, debauchery, - Palais-Royal buildings, in Notables (Duke d’Orléans now), looks of, - Bed-of-Justice, 1787, arrested, liberated, in States-General Procession, - joins Third Estate, his party, in Constituent Assembly, Fifth October and, - shunned in England, Mirabeau, cash deficiency, use of, in Revolution, - accused by Royalists, at Court, insulted, in National Convention, decline - of, in Convention, vote on King’s trial, at King’s execution, arrested, - imprisoned, condemned, and executed. - </p> - <p> - ORMESSON, d’, Controller of Finance. - </p> - <p> - PACHE, Swiss, account of, Minister of War, Mayor, dismissed, reinstated, - imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - PAN, Mallet du, solicits for Louis. - </p> - <p> - PANIS, Advocate, in Governing Committee, and Beaumarchais, confidant of - Danton. - </p> - <p> - PANTHEON, first occupant of. - </p> - <p> - PARENS, Curate, renounces religion. - </p> - <p> - PARIS, origin of city, police in 1750, ship Ville-de-Paris, riot at - Palais-de-Justice, beautified, in 1788, election, 1789, troops called to, - military preparations in, July Fourteenth, cry for arms, search for arms, - Bailly, mayor of, trade-strikes in, Lafayette patrols, October Fifth, - propositions to Louis, Louis in, Journals, bill-stickers, undermined, - after Champ-de-Mars Federation, on Nanci affair, on death of Mirabeau, on - flight to Varennes, on King’s return, Directory suspends Pétion, - enlisting, 1792, on forfeiture of King, Sections, rising of, August Tenth, - prepares for insurrection, Municipality supplanted, statues destroyed, - King and Queen to prison, September, 1792, names printed on house-door, in - insurrection, Girondins, May 1793, Municipality in red caps, brotherly - supper, Sections to be abolished. - </p> - <p> - PARIS, Guardsman, assassinates Lepelletier. - </p> - <p> - PARIS, friend of Danton. - </p> - <p> - PARLEMENT, patriotic, against Taxation, remonstrates, at Versailles, - arrested, origin of, nature of, corrupt, at Troyes, yields, Royal Session - in, how to be tamed, oath and declaration of, firmness of, scene in, and - dismissal of, reinstated, unpopular, summons Dr. Guillotin, abolished. - </p> - <p> - PARLEMENTS, Provincial, adhere to Paris, rebellious, exiled, grand - deputations of, reinstated, abolished. - </p> - <p> - PELTIER, Royalist Pamphleteer, “Père Duchene,” Editor of. - </p> - <p> - PEREYRA (Peyreyra), Walloon, account of, imprisoned. - </p> - <p> - PETION, account of, Dutch-built, and D’Espréménil, to be mayor, Varennes, - meets King, and Royalty, at close of Assembly, in London, Mayor of Paris, - in Twentieth June, suspended, reinstated, welcomes Marseillese, August - Tenth, in Tuileries, rebukes Septemberers, in National Convention, - declines mayorship, against Mountain, retreat to Bourdeaux, end of. - </p> - <p> - PÉTION, National-Pique, christening of. - </p> - <p> - PETITION of famishing French, at Fatherland’s altar, of the Eight - Thousand. - </p> - <p> - PETITIONS, on capture of King, for deposition, &c. - </p> - <p> - PHELIPPEAUX, purged out of the Jacobins. - </p> - <p> - PHILOSOPHISM, influence of, on Revolution, what it has done with Church, - with Religion. - </p> - <p> - PICHEGRU, General, account of, in Germinal. - </p> - <p> - PILNITZ, Convention at. - </p> - <p> - PIN, Latour du, War-Minister, dismissed. - </p> - <p> - PITT, against France, and Girondins, inflexible. - </p> - <p> - PLOTS, of King’s flight, various, of Aristocrats, October Fifth, Royalist, - of Favras and others, cartels, Twelve bullies from Switzerland, D’Inisdal, - will-o’-wisp, Mirabeau and Queen, poniards, Mallet du Pan, Narbonne’s, - traces of, in Armoire-de-Fer, against Girondins, Desmoulins on, prison. - </p> - <p> - POLIGNAC, Duke de, a sinecurist, dismissed, at Bale, younger, in Ham. - </p> - <p> - POMPIGNAN, President of National Assembly. - </p> - <p> - POPE PIUS VI., excommunicates Talleyrand, his effigy burned. - </p> - <p> - PRAIRIAL First to Third, May 20-22, 1795. - </p> - <p> - PRECY, siege of, Lyons. - </p> - <p> - PRIESTHOOD, disrobing of, costumes in Carmagnole. - </p> - <p> - PRIESTLEY, Dr., riot against, naturalised, elected to National Convention. - </p> - <p> - PRIESTS, dissident, marry in France, Anti-national, hanged, many killed - near the Abbaye, number slain in September Massacre, to rescue Louis, - drowned at Nantes. - </p> - <p> - PRISONS, Paris, in Bastille time, full, August 1792, number of, in France, - state of, in Terror, thinned after Terror. - </p> - <p> - PRISON, Abbaye, refractory Members sent to, Temple, Louis sent to, Abbaye, - Priests killed near, massacres at La Force, Chatelet, and Conciergerie. - </p> - <p> - PROCESSION, of States-General Deputies, of Necker and D’Orléans busts, of - Louis to Paris, again, after Varennes, of Louis to trial, at Constitution - of 1793. - </p> - <p> - PROVENCE Noblesse, expel Mirabeau. - </p> - <p> - PRUDHOMME, Editor, on assassins, on Cavaignac. - </p> - <p> - PRUSSIA, Fritz of, against France, army of, ravages France, King of, and - French Princes. - </p> - <p> - PUISAYE, Girondin General, at Quiberon. - </p> - <p> - QUERET-DEMERY, in Bastille. - </p> - <p> - QUIBERON, debarkation at. - </p> - <p> - RABAUT, St. Etienne, French Reformer, in National Convention, in - Commission of Twelve, arrested, between two walls, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - RAYNAL, Abbé, Philosophe, his letter to Constituent Assembly. - </p> - <p> - REBECQUI, of Marseilles, in National Convention, against Robespierre, - retires, drowns himself. - </p> - <p> - REDING, Swiss, massacred. - </p> - <p> - RELIGION, Christian, and French Revolution, abolished, Clootz on, a new. - </p> - <p> - REMY, Cornet, at Clermont. - </p> - <p> - RENAULT, Cecile, to assassinate Robespierre, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - RENE, King, bequeathed Avignon to Pope. - </p> - <p> - RENNES, riot in. - </p> - <p> - RENWICK, last of Cameronians. - </p> - <p> - REPAIRE, Tardivet du, Bodyguard, Fifth October, rewarded. - </p> - <p> - REPRESENTATIVES, Paris, Town. - </p> - <p> - REPUBLIC, French, first mention of, first year of, established, universal, - Clootz’s, Girondin, one and indivisible, its triumphs. - </p> - <p> - RESSON, Sieur, reports Lafayette to Jacobins. - </p> - <p> - REVEILLON, house destroyed. - </p> - <p> - REVOLT, Paris, in, of Gardes Françaises, becomes Revolution, military, - what, of Lepelletier section. - </p> - <p> - REVOLUTION, French, causes of the, Lord Chesterfield on the, not a revolt, - meaning of the term, whence it grew, general commencement of, prosperous - characters in, Philosophes and, state of army in, progress of, duelling - in, Republic decided on, European powers and, Royalist opinion of, - cardinal movements in, Danton and the, changes produced by the, effect of - King’s death on, Girondin idea of, suspicion in, Terror and, and Christian - religion, Revolutionary Committees, Government doings in, Robespierre - essential to, end of. - </p> - <p> - RHEIMS, in September massacre. - </p> - <p> - RICHELIEU, at death of Louis XV., death of. - </p> - <p> - RIOT, Paris, in May 1750, Cornlaw (in 1775), at Palais de Justice (1787), - triumph, of Rue St. Antoine, of July Fourteenth (1789), and - Bastille, at Strasburg, Paris, on the veto, Versailles Château, October - Fifth (1789), uses of, to National Assembly, Paris, on Nanci - affair, at De Castries’ Hotel, on flight of King’s Aunts, at Vincennes, on - King’s proposed journey to St. Cloud, in Champ-de-Mars, with sharp shot, - Paris, Twentieth June, 1792, August Tenth, 1792, Grain, Paris, at Theatre - de la Nation, selling sugar, of Thermidor, 1794, of Germinal, 1795, of - Prairial, final, of Vendémiaire. - </p> - <p> - RIOUFFE, Girondin, to Bourdeaux, in prison, on death of Girondins, on Mme. - Roland. - </p> - <p> - ROBESPIERRE, Maximilien, account of, derided in Constituent Assembly, - Jacobin, incorruptible, on tip of left, elected public accuser, after - King’s flight, at close of Assembly, at Arras, position of, plans in 1792, - chief priest of Jacobins, invisible on August Tenth, reappears, on - September Massacre, in National Convention, accused by Girondins, accused - by Louvet, acquitted, King’s trial, Condorcet on, at Queen’s trial, in - Salut Committee, and Paris Municipality, embraces Danton, Desmoulins and, - and Danton, Danton on, at trial, his three scoundrels, supreme, to be - assassinated, at Feast of Être Suprême, apocalyptic, Theot, on Couthon’s - plot-decree, reserved, his schemes, fails in Convention, applauded at - Jacobins, accused, rescued, at Townhall, declared out of law, half-killed, - guillotined, essential to Revolution. - </p> - <p> - ROBESPIERRE, Augustin, decreed accused, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ROCHAMBEAU, one of Four Generals, retires. - </p> - <p> - ROCHE-AYMON, Grand Almoner of Louis XV. - </p> - <p> - ROCHEFOUCAULT, Duke de la, Liberal, President of Directory, killed. - </p> - <p> - ROEDERER, Syndic, Feuillant, “Chronicle of Fifty Days,” on Fédérés - Ammunition, dilemma at Tuileries, August 10th. - </p> - <p> - ROHAN, Cardinal, Diamond Necklace. - </p> - <p> - ROLAND, Madame, notice of, at Lyons, narrative by, in Paris, after King’s - flight, and Barbaroux, public dinners and business, character of, - misgivings of, accused, Girondin declining, arrested, condemned and - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ROLAND, M., notice of, in Paris, Minister, letter, and dismissal of, - recalled, decline of, on September Massacres, and Pache, doings of, - resigns, flies, suicide of. - </p> - <p> - ROMME, in National Convention, in Caen prison, his new Calendar, in riot - of Prairial, 1795, suicide. - </p> - <p> - ROMOEUF, pursues King. - </p> - <p> - RONSIN, General of Revolutionary Army, arrested and guillotined. - </p> - <p> - ROSIERE, Thuriot de la, summons Bastille, in First Parliament, in National - Convention, President at Robespierre’s fall. - </p> - <p> - ROSSIGNOL, in September Massacre, in La Vendée. - </p> - <p> - ROUSSEAU, Jean-Jacques, Contrat Social of, Gospel according to, - burial-place of, statue decreed to. - </p> - <p> - ROUX, M., “Histoire Parlementaire.” - </p> - <p> - ROYALTY, signs of demolished, abolition of. - </p> - <p> - RUAMPS, Deputy, against Couthon. - </p> - <p> - RUHL, notice of, in riot of Prairial, suicide. - </p> - <p> - SABATIER de Cabre, at Royal Session, arrested, liberated. - </p> - <p> - ST. ANTOINE to Versailles, Warhorse supper, Nanci affair, at Vincennes, at - Jacobins, and Marseillese, August Tenth. - </p> - <p> - ST. CLOUD, Louis prohibited from. - </p> - <p> - ST. DENIS, Mayor of, hanged. - </p> - <p> - ST. FARGEAU, Lepelletier, in National Convention, at King’s trial, - assassinated, burial of. - </p> - <p> - ST. HURUGE, Marquis, bull-voice, imprisoned, at Versailles, and Pope’s - effigy, at Jacobins, on King’s trial. - </p> - <p> - ST. JUST in National Convention, on King’s trial, in Salut Committee, at - Strasburg, repels Prussians, on Revolution, in Committee-room, Thermidor, - his report, arrested. - </p> - <p> - ST. LOUIS Church, States-General procession from. - </p> - <p> - ST. MEARD, Jourgniac de, in prison, his “Agony” at La Force. - </p> - <p> - ST. MERY, Moreau de, prostrated. - </p> - <p> - SALLES, Deputy, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - SANSCULOTTISM, apparition of, effects of, growth of, at work, origin of - term, and Royalty, above theft, a fact, French Nation and, Revolutionary - Tribunal and, how it lives, consummated, fall of, last rising of, death - of. - </p> - <p> - SANTERRE, Brewer, notice of, at siege of Bastille, at Tuileries, June - Twentieth, meets Marseillese, Commander of Guards, how to relieve famine, - at King’s trial, at King’s execution, fails in La Vendée, St. Antoine - disarmed. - </p> - <p> - SAPPER, Fraternal. - </p> - <p> - SAUSSE, M., Procureur of Varennes, scene at his house, flies from - Prussians. - </p> - <p> - SAVONNIERES, M., de, Bodyguard, October Fifth, loses temper. - </p> - <p> - SAVOY, occupied by French. - </p> - <p> - SECHELLES, Herault de, in National Convention, leads Convention out, - arrested and guillotined. - </p> - <p> - SECTIONS, of Paris, denounce Girondins, Committee of. - </p> - <p> - SEIGNEURS, French, compelled to fly. - </p> - <p> - SERGENT, Agate, Engraver, in Committee, nicknamed “Agate,” signs circular. - </p> - <p> - SERVAN, War-Minister, proposals of. - </p> - <p> - SEVRES, Potteries, Lamotte’s “Mémoires” burnt at. - </p> - <p> - SICARD, Abbé, imprisoned, in danger near the Abbaye, account of massacre - there. - </p> - <p> - SIDE, Right and Left, of Constituent Assembly, Right and Left, tip of - Left, popular, Right after King’s flight, Right quits Assembly, Right and - Left in First Parliament. - </p> - <p> - SIEYES, Abbé, account of, Constitution-builder, in Champ-de-Mars, in - National Convention, of Constitution Committee, 1790, vote at King’s - trial, making fresh Constitution. - </p> - <p> - SILLERY, Marquis. - </p> - <p> - SIMON, Cordwainer, Dauphin committed to, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - SIMONEAU, Mayor of Etampes, death of, festival for. - </p> - <p> - SOMBREUIL, Governor of Hôtel des Invalides, examined, seized, saved by his - daughter, guillotined, his son shot. - </p> - <p> - SPAIN, at war with France, invaded by France. - </p> - <p> - STAAL, Dame de, on liberty. - </p> - <p> - STAEL, Mme. de, at States-General procession, intrigue for Narbonne, - secretes Narbonne. - </p> - <p> - STANHOPE and Price, their club and Paris. - </p> - <p> - STATES-GENERAL, first suggested, meeting announced, how constituted, - orders in, Representatives to, Parlements against, Deputies to, in Paris, - number of Deputies, place of Assembly, procession of, installed, union of - orders. - </p> - <p> - STRASBURG, riot at, in 1789. - </p> - <p> - SUFFREN, Admiral, notice of. - </p> - <p> - SULLEAU, Royalist, editor, massacred. - </p> - <p> - SUSPECT, Law of the, Chaumette jeered on. - </p> - <p> - SWEDEN, King of, to assist Marie Antoinette, shot by Ankarstrom. - </p> - <p> - SWISS Guards at Brest, prisoners at La Force. - </p> - <p> - TALLEYRAND-PERIGORD, Bishop, notice of, at fatherland’s altar, his - blessing, excommunicated, in London, to America. - </p> - <p> - TALLIEN, notice of, editor of “Ami des Citoyens,” in Committee of - Townhall, August 1792, in National Convention, at Bourdeaux, and Madame - Cabarus, recalled, suspect, accuses Robespierre, Thermidorian. - </p> - <p> - TALMA, actor, his soirée. - </p> - <p> - TANNERY of human skins, improvements in. - </p> - <p> - TARGET, Advocate, declines King’s defence. - </p> - <p> - TASSIN, M., and black cockade. - </p> - <p> - TENNIS-COURT, National Assembly in, Club of, and procession to, master of, - rewarded. - </p> - <p> - TERROR, consummation of, reign of, designated, number guillotined in. - </p> - <p> - THEATINS Church, granted to Dissidents. - </p> - <p> - THEOT, Prophetess, on Robespierre. - </p> - <p> - THERMIDOR, Ninth and Tenth, July 27 and 28, 1794. - </p> - <p> - THEROIGNE, Mlle., notice of, in Insurrection of Women, at Versailles (October - Fifth), in Austrian prison, in Jacobin tribune, armed for insurrection - (August Tenth), keeps her carriage, fustigated, insane. - </p> - <p> - THIONVILLE besieged, siege raised. - </p> - <p> - THOURET, Law-reformer, dissolves Assembly, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - THOUVENOT and Dumouriez. - </p> - <p> - TINVILLE, Fouquier, revolutionist, Jacobin, Attorney-General in Tribunal - Revolutionnaire, at Queen’s trial, at trial of Girondins, at trial of Mme. - Roland, at trial of Danton, and Salut Public, his prison-plots, his - batches, the prisons under, mock doom of, at trial of Robespierre, - accused, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - TOLLENDAL, Lally, pleads for father, in States-General, popular, crowned. - </p> - <p> - TORNE, Bishop. - </p> - <p> - TOULON, Girondin, occupied by English, besieged, surrenders. - </p> - <p> - TOULONGEON, Marquis, notice of, on Barnave triumvirate, describes Jacobins - Hall. - </p> - <p> - TOURNAY, Louis, at siege of Bastille. - </p> - <p> - TOURZELLE, Dame de, escape of. - </p> - <p> - TRONCHET, Advocate, defends King. - </p> - <p> - TUILERIES, Louis XVI. lodged at, a tile-field, Twentieth June at, tickets - of entry, “Coblentz,” Marseillese chase Filles-Saint-Thomas to, August - Tenth, King quits, attacked, captured, occupied by National Convention. - </p> - <p> - TURGOT, Controller of France, on Corn-law, dismissed, death of. - </p> - <p> - TYRANTS, French people rise against. - </p> - <p> - UNITED STATES, declaration of Liberty, embassy to Louis XVI., aided by - France, of Congress in. - </p> - <p> - USHANT, battle off. - </p> - <p> - VALADI, Marquis, Gardes Françaises and, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - VALAZE, Girondin, on trial of Louis, plots at his house, trial of, kills - himself. - </p> - <p> - VALENCIENNES, besieged, surrendered. - </p> - <p> - VARENNE, Maton de la, his experiences in September. - </p> - <p> - VARIGNY, Bodyguard, massacred. - </p> - <p> - VARLET, “Apostle of Liberty,” arrested. - </p> - <p> - VENDEE, La, Commissioners to, state of, in 1792, insurrection in, war, - after King’s death, on fire, pacificated. - </p> - <p> - VENDÉMIAIRE, Thirteenth, October 4, 1795. - </p> - <p> - VERDUN, to be besieged, surrendered. - </p> - <p> - VERGENNES, M. de, Prime Minister, death of. - </p> - <p> - VERGNIAUD, notice of, August Tenth, orations of, President at King’s - condemnation, in fall of Girondins, trial of, at last supper of Girondins. - </p> - <p> - VERMOND, Abbé de. - </p> - <p> - VERSAILLES, death of Louis XV. at, in Bastille time, National Assembly at, - troops to, march of women on, of French Guards on, insurrection scene at, - the Château forced, prisoners massacred at. - </p> - <p> - VIARD, Spy. - </p> - <p> - VILATE, Juryman, guillotined, book by. - </p> - <p> - VILLARET-JOYEUSE, Admiral, defeated by Howe. - </p> - <p> - VILLEQUIER, Duke de, emigrates. - </p> - <p> - VINCENNES, riot at, saved by Lafayette. - </p> - <p> - VINCENT, of War-Office, arrested, guillotined. - </p> - <p> - VOLTAIRE, at Paris, described, burial-place of. - </p> - <p> - WAR, civil, becomes general. - </p> - <p> - WASHINGTON, key of Bastille sent to, formula for Lafayette. - </p> - <p> - WATIGNY, Battle of. - </p> - <p> - WEBER, in Insurrection of Women, Queen leaving Vienna. - </p> - <p> - WESTERMANN, August Tenth, purged out of the Jacobins, tried and - guillotined. - </p> - <p> - WIMPFEN, Girondin General. - </p> - <p> - YORK, Duke of, besieges Valenciennes and Dunkirk. - </p> - <p> - YOUNG, Arthur, at French Revolution. - </p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - - -<div class="chapter"> - - <h3><a name="link2HCH0161" id="link2HCH0161"></a> - FOOTNOTES. - </h3> - -<p> -<a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Abrégé Chronologique de l’Histoire de France</i> (Paris, 1775), p. 701. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de M. le Baron Besenval</i> (Paris, 1805), ii. 59-90. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, <i>Travels during the years</i> 1787-88-89 (Bury St. Edmunds, 1792), i. 44. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br/> -<i>La Vie et les Mémoires du Général Dumouriez</i> (Paris, 1822), i. 141. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Besenval, Mémoires</i>, ii. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, <i>Histoire de Paris</i> (Paris, 1824), vii. 328. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires sur la Vie privée de Marie Antoinette</i>, par Madame Campan (Paris, 1826), i. 12 -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire de la Révolution Française</i>, par Deux Amis de la Liberté (Paris, 1792), ii. 212. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, <i>Histoire de France pendant le 18me Siècle</i> (Paris, 1819) i. 271. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, vii. 261. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, iii. 175. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br/> -Chesterfield’s <i>Letters:</i> December 25th, 1753. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-13" id="linknote-13"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -13 (<a href="#linknoteref-13">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure (viii. 217); Besenval, &c.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-14" id="linknote-14"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -14 (<a href="#linknoteref-14">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, i. 11-36. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-15" id="linknote-15"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -15 (<a href="#linknoteref-15">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, i. 199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-16" id="linknote-16"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -16 (<a href="#linknoteref-16">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, iii. 39. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-17" id="linknote-17"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -17 (<a href="#linknoteref-17">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Journal de Madame de Hausset</i>, p. 293, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-18" id="linknote-18"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -18 (<a href="#linknoteref-18">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, i. 197. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-19" id="linknote-19"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -19 (<a href="#linknoteref-19">return</a>)<br/> -Gregorius Turonensis, <i>Histor.</i> lib. iv. cap. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-20" id="linknote-20"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -20 (<a href="#linknoteref-20">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, i. 159-172. Genlis; Duc de Levis, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-21" id="linknote-21"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -21 (<a href="#linknoteref-21">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, <i>Mémoires concernant Marie-Antoinette</i> (London, 1809), i. 22. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-22" id="linknote-22"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -22 (<a href="#linknoteref-22">return</a>)<br/> -One grudges to interfere with the beautiful theatrical “candle,” which Madame -Campan (i. 79) has lit on this occasion, and blown out at the moment of death. -What candles might be lit or blown out, in so large an Establishment as that of -Versailles, no man at such distance would like to affirm: at the same time, as -it was two o’clock in a May Afternoon, and these royal Stables must have been -some five or six hundred yards from the royal sick-room, the “candle” does -threaten to go out in spite of us. It remains burning indeed—in her -fantasy; throwing light on much in those <i>Mémoires</i> of hers. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-23" id="linknote-23"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -23 (<a href="#linknoteref-23">return</a>)<br/> -Turgot’s Letter: Condorcet, <i>Vie de Turgot (Œuvres de Condorcet</i>, t. v.), -p. 67. The date is 24th August, 1774. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-24" id="linknote-24"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -24 (<a href="#linknoteref-24">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, i. 125. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-25" id="linknote-25"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -25 (<a href="#linknoteref-25">return</a>)<br/> -Ib. i. 100-151. Weber, i. 11-50. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-26" id="linknote-26"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -26 (<a href="#linknoteref-26">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, ii. 282-330. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-27" id="linknote-27"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -27 (<a href="#linknoteref-27">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 147. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-28" id="linknote-28"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -28 (<a href="#linknoteref-28">return</a>)<br/> -A.D. 1834. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-29" id="linknote-29"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -29 (<a href="#linknoteref-29">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, <i>France pendant le 18me Siècle</i>, ii. 455. <i>Biographie -Universelle</i>, § Turgot (by Durozoir). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-30" id="linknote-30"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -30 (<a href="#linknoteref-30">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Mirabeau</i>, écrits par Lui-même, par son Père, son Oncle et -son Fils Adoptif (Paris, 34-5), ii.186. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-31" id="linknote-31"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -31 (<a href="#linknoteref-31">return</a>)<br/> -Boissy d’Anglas, <i>Vie de Malesherbes</i>, i. 15-22. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-32" id="linknote-32"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -32 (<a href="#linknoteref-32">return</a>)<br/> -In May, 1776. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-33" id="linknote-33"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -33 (<a href="#linknoteref-33">return</a>)<br/> -February, 1778. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-34" id="linknote-34"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -34 (<a href="#linknoteref-34">return</a>)<br/> -1773-6. See <i>Œuvres de Beaumarchais;</i> where they, and the history of them, are given. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-35" id="linknote-35"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -35 (<a href="#linknoteref-35">return</a>)<br/> -1777; Deane somewhat earlier: Franklin remained till 1785. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-36" id="linknote-36"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -36 (<a href="#linknoteref-36">return</a>)<br/> -27th July, 1778. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-37" id="linknote-37"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -37 (<a href="#linknoteref-37">return</a>)<br/> -9th and 12th April, 1782. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-38" id="linknote-38"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -38 (<a href="#linknoteref-38">return</a>)<br/> -August 1st, 1785. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-39" id="linknote-39"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -39 (<a href="#linknoteref-39">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Annual Register</i> (Dodsley’s), xxv. 258-267. September, October, 1782. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-40" id="linknote-40"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -40 (<a href="#linknoteref-40">return</a>)<br/> -Gibbon’s <i>Letters:</i> date, 16th June, 1777, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-41" id="linknote-41"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -41 (<a href="#linknoteref-41">return</a>)<br/> -Till May, 1781. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-42" id="linknote-42"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -42 (<a href="#linknoteref-42">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Tableau de Paris</i>, ii. 51. Louvet, <i>Roman de Faublas</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-43" id="linknote-43"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -43 (<a href="#linknoteref-43">return</a>)<br/> -Adelung, <i>Geschichte der Menschlichen Narrheit</i>, § Dodd. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-44" id="linknote-44"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -44 (<a href="#linknoteref-44">return</a>)<br/> -1781-82. (Dulaure, viii. 423.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-45" id="linknote-45"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -45 (<a href="#linknoteref-45">return</a>)<br/> -5th June, 1783. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-46" id="linknote-46"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -46 (<a href="#linknoteref-46">return</a>)<br/> -October and November, 1783. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-47" id="linknote-47"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -47 (<a href="#linknoteref-47">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, 18me <i>Siècle</i>, iii. 258. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-48" id="linknote-48"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -48 (<a href="#linknoteref-48">return</a>)<br/> -August, 1784. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-49" id="linknote-49"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -49 (<a href="#linknoteref-49">return</a>)<br/> -Fils Adoptif, <i>Mémoires de Mirabeau</i>, iv. 325. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-50" id="linknote-50"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -50 (<a href="#linknoteref-50">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 255-58. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-51" id="linknote-51"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -51 (<a href="#linknoteref-51">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 216. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-52" id="linknote-52"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -52 (<a href="#linknoteref-52">return</a>)<br/> -Fils Adoptif, <i>Mémoires de Mirabeau</i>, t. iv. livv. 4 et 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-53" id="linknote-53"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -53 (<a href="#linknoteref-53">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie Universelle</i>, § Calonne (by Guizot). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-54" id="linknote-54"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -54 (<a href="#linknoteref-54">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, iii. 286. Montgaillard, i. 347. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-55" id="linknote-55"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -55 (<a href="#linknoteref-55">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i> (Paris, 1832), p. 20. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-56" id="linknote-56"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -56 (<a href="#linknoteref-56">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 196. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-57" id="linknote-57"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -57 (<a href="#linknoteref-57">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 203. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-58" id="linknote-58"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -58 (<a href="#linknoteref-58">return</a>)<br/> -Republished in the <i>Musée de la Caricature</i> (Paris, 1834). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-59" id="linknote-59"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -59 (<a href="#linknoteref-59">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 209. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-60" id="linknote-60"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -60 (<a href="#linknoteref-60">return</a>)<br/> -Ib. iii. 211. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-61" id="linknote-61"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -61 (<a href="#linknoteref-61">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 225. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-62" id="linknote-62"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -62 (<a href="#linknoteref-62">return</a>)<br/> -Ib. iii. 224. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-63" id="linknote-63"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -63 (<a href="#linknoteref-63">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, <i>Histoire de France</i>, i. 410-17. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-64" id="linknote-64"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -64 (<a href="#linknoteref-64">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 220. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-65" id="linknote-65"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -65 (<a href="#linknoteref-65">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 360. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-66" id="linknote-66"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -66 (<a href="#linknoteref-66">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-67" id="linknote-67"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -67 (<a href="#linknoteref-67">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, <i>Histoire de France depuis la Révolution de 1789</i> (Paris, 1803), i. app. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-68" id="linknote-68"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -68 (<a href="#linknoteref-68">return</a>)<br/> -A. Lameth, <i>Histoire de l’Assemblée Constituante</i> (Int. 73). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-69" id="linknote-69"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -69 (<a href="#linknoteref-69">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Abrégé Chronologique</i>, p. 975. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-70" id="linknote-70"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -70 (<a href="#linknoteref-70">return</a>)<br/> -9th May, 1766: <i>Biographie Universelle</i>, § Lally. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-71" id="linknote-71"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -71 (<a href="#linknoteref-71">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 369. Besenval, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-72" id="linknote-72"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -72 (<a href="#linknoteref-72">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 373. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-73" id="linknote-73"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -73 (<a href="#linknoteref-73">return</a>)<br/> -Fils Adoptif, <i>Mirabeau</i>, iv. l. 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-74" id="linknote-74"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -74 (<a href="#linknoteref-74">return</a>)<br/> -October, 1787. Montgaillard, i. 374. Besenval, iii. 283. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-75" id="linknote-75"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -75 (<a href="#linknoteref-75">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, vi. 306. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-76" id="linknote-76"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -76 (<a href="#linknoteref-76">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 309. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-77" id="linknote-77"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -77 (<a href="#linknoteref-77">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 266. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-78" id="linknote-78"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -78 (<a href="#linknoteref-78">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 264. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-79" id="linknote-79"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -79 (<a href="#linknoteref-79">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires justificatifs de la Comtesse de Lamotte</i> (London, 1788). <i>Vie -de Jeanne de St. Remi, Comtesse de Lamotte</i>, &c. &c. See <i>Diamond -Necklace</i> (ut suprà). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-80" id="linknote-80"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -80 (<a href="#linknoteref-80">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, iii. 343. Montgaillard, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-81" id="linknote-81"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -81 (<a href="#linknoteref-81">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 317. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-82" id="linknote-82"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -82 (<a href="#linknoteref-82">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 405. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-83" id="linknote-83"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -83 (<a href="#linknoteref-83">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 276. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-84" id="linknote-84"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -84 (<a href="#linknoteref-84">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 283. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-85" id="linknote-85"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -85 (<a href="#linknoteref-85">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 355. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-86" id="linknote-86"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -86 (<a href="#linknoteref-86">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. App. 20. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-87" id="linknote-87"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -87 (<a href="#linknoteref-87">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 404. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-88" id="linknote-88"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -88 (<a href="#linknoteref-88">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 299-303. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-89" id="linknote-89"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -89 (<a href="#linknoteref-89">return</a>)<br/> -A. F. de Bertrand-Moleville, <i>Mémoires Particuliers</i> (Paris, 1816), I. ch. -i. Marmontel, <i>Mémoires</i>, iv. 27. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-90" id="linknote-90"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -90 (<a href="#linknoteref-90">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 308. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-91" id="linknote-91"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -91 (<a href="#linknoteref-91">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 348. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-92" id="linknote-92"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -92 (<a href="#linknoteref-92">return</a>)<br/> -<i>La Cour Plénière</i>, heroï-tragi-comedie en trois actes et en prose; jouée -le 14 Juillet 1788, par une societe d’amateurs dans un Château aux environs de -Versailles; par M. l’Abbé de Vermond, Lecteur de la Reine: A Bâville -(<i>Lamoignon’s Country-house</i>), et se trouve à Paris, chez la Veuve -Liberté, à l’enseigne de la Révolution, 1788.—La Passion, <i>la Mort et -la Résurrection du Peuple:</i> Imprimé à Jerusalem, &c. &c.—See -Montgaillard, i. 407. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-93" id="linknote-93"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -93 (<a href="#linknoteref-93">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 275. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-94" id="linknote-94"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -94 (<a href="#linknoteref-94">return</a>)<br/> -Lameth, <i>Assemb. Const.</i> (Introd.) p. 87. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-95" id="linknote-95"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -95 (<a href="#linknoteref-95">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 424. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-96" id="linknote-96"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -96 (<a href="#linknoteref-96">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Mémoires de Morellet.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-97" id="linknote-97"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -97 (<a href="#linknoteref-97">return</a>)<br/> -Marmontel, iv. 30. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-98" id="linknote-98"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -98 (<a href="#linknoteref-98">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, iii. 104, 111. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-99" id="linknote-99"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -99 (<a href="#linknoteref-99">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 360. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-100" id="linknote-100"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -100 (<a href="#linknoteref-100">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 339. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-101" id="linknote-101"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -101 (<a href="#linknoteref-101">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 341. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-102" id="linknote-102"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -102 (<a href="#linknoteref-102">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 366. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-103" id="linknote-103"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -103 (<a href="#linknoteref-103">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 342. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-104" id="linknote-104"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -104 (<a href="#linknoteref-104">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire de la Revolution Française; ou Journal des Assemblées -Nationales depuis 1789</i> (Paris, 1833 et seqq.), i. 253. Lameth, <i>Assemblée -Constituante</i>, i. (Introd.) p. 89. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-105" id="linknote-105"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -105 (<a href="#linknoteref-105">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire de la Révolution</i>, par Deux Amis de la Liberté, i. 50. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-106" id="linknote-106"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -106 (<a href="#linknoteref-106">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire de la Révolution</i>, par Deux Amis de la Liberté, i. 58. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-107" id="linknote-107"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -107 (<a href="#linknoteref-107">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, i. 461. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-108" id="linknote-108"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -108 (<a href="#linknoteref-108">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 347. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-109" id="linknote-109"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -109 (<a href="#linknoteref-109">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. i. 360. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-110" id="linknote-110"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -110 (<a href="#linknoteref-110">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoire sur les Etats-Généraux.</i> See Montgaillard, i. 457-9. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-111" id="linknote-111"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -111 (<a href="#linknoteref-111">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Délibérations à prendre pour les Assemblées des Bailliages.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-112" id="linknote-112"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -112 (<a href="#linknoteref-112">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoire présenté au Roi</i>, par Monseigneur Comte d’Artois, M. le Prince de -Condé, M. le Duc de Bourbon, M. le Duc d’Enghien, et M. le Prince de Conti. -(Given in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> i. 256.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-113" id="linknote-113"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -113 (<a href="#linknoteref-113">return</a>)<br/> -Marmontel, <i>Mémoires</i> (London, 1805), iv. 33. <i>Hist. Parl.</i> &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-114" id="linknote-114"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -114 (<a href="#linknoteref-114">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Rapport fait au Roi dans son Conseil, le 27 Décembre 1788.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-115" id="linknote-115"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -115 (<a href="#linknoteref-115">return</a>)<br/> -5th July; 8th August; 23rd September, &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-116" id="linknote-116"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -116 (<a href="#linknoteref-116">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Réglement du Roi pour la Convocation des Etats-Généraux à Versailles.</i> -(Reprinted, wrong dated, in Histoire Parlementaire, i. 262.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-117" id="linknote-117"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -117 (<a href="#linknoteref-117">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Réglement du Roi</i> (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, as above, i. 267-307. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-118" id="linknote-118"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -118 (<a href="#linknoteref-118">return</a>)<br/> -Bailly, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 336. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-119" id="linknote-119"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -119 (<a href="#linknoteref-119">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Protestation et Arrêté des Jeunes Gens de la Ville de Nantes, du</i> 28 -<i>Janvier</i> 1789, <i>avant leur départ pour Rennes. Arrêté des Jeunes Gens -de la Ville d’Angers, du</i> 4 <i>Février</i> 1789. <i>Arrêté des Mères, Sœurs, -Epouses et Amantes des Jeunes Citoyens d’Angers, du</i> 6 <i>Février</i> 1789. -(Reprinted in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 290-3.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-120" id="linknote-120"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -120 (<a href="#linknoteref-120">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> i. 287. <i>Deux Amis de la Liberté</i>, i. 105-128. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-121" id="linknote-121"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -121 (<a href="#linknoteref-121">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Fils Adoptif</i>, v. 256. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-122" id="linknote-122"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -122 (<a href="#linknoteref-122">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Mirabeau</i>, v. 307. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-123" id="linknote-123"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -123 (<a href="#linknoteref-123">return</a>)<br/> -Marat, <i>Ami-du-Peuple</i> Newspaper (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 103), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-124" id="linknote-124"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -124 (<a href="#linknoteref-124">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis de la Liberté</i>, i. 141. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-125" id="linknote-125"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -125 (<a href="#linknoteref-125">return</a>)<br/> -Lacretelle, 18me <i>Siècle</i>, ii. 155. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-126" id="linknote-126"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -126 (<a href="#linknoteref-126">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 385, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-127" id="linknote-127"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -127 (<a href="#linknoteref-127">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 385-8. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-128" id="linknote-128"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -128 (<a href="#linknoteref-128">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Evènemens qui se sont passés sous mes yeux pendant la Révolution -Française</i>, par A. H. Dampmartin (Berlin, 1799), i. 25-27. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-129" id="linknote-129"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -129 (<a href="#linknoteref-129">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 389. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-130" id="linknote-130"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -130 (<a href="#linknoteref-130">return</a>)<br/> -Madame de Staël, <i>Considérations sur la Révolution Française</i> (London, -1818), i. 114-191. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-131" id="linknote-131"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -131 (<a href="#linknoteref-131">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Founders of the French Republic</i> (London, 1798), § Valadi. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-132" id="linknote-132"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -132 (<a href="#linknoteref-132">return</a>)<br/> -See De Staël, <i>Considérations</i> (ii. 142); Barbaroux, <i>Mémoires</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-133" id="linknote-133"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -133 (<a href="#linknoteref-133">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 335. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-134" id="linknote-134"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -134 (<a href="#linknoteref-134">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Actes des Apôtres</i> (by Peltier and others); <i>Almanach du Père -Gérard</i> (by Collot d’Herbois) &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-135" id="linknote-135"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -135 (<a href="#linknoteref-135">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> Newspaper, of December 1st, 1789 (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-136" id="linknote-136"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -136 (<a href="#linknoteref-136">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, <i>Mémoires sur la Révolution Française</i> (London, 1797), i. 68. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-137" id="linknote-137"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -137 (<a href="#linknoteref-137">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 64. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-138" id="linknote-138"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -138 (<a href="#linknoteref-138">return</a>)<br/> -A.D. 1834. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-139" id="linknote-139"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -139 (<a href="#linknoteref-139">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> i. 322-27. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-140" id="linknote-140"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -140 (<a href="#linknoteref-140">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-141" id="linknote-141"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -141 (<a href="#linknoteref-141">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i> (i. 356). Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-142" id="linknote-142"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -142 (<a href="#linknoteref-142">return</a>)<br/> -Reported Debates, 6th May to 1st June, 1789 in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 379-422. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-143" id="linknote-143"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -143 (<a href="#linknoteref-143">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 405). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-144" id="linknote-144"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -144 (<a href="#linknoteref-144">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 429. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-145" id="linknote-145"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -145 (<a href="#linknoteref-145">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, <i>Travels</i>, i. 104. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-146" id="linknote-146"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -146 (<a href="#linknoteref-146">return</a>)<br/> -Bailly, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 114. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-147" id="linknote-147"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -147 (<a href="#linknoteref-147">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 413. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-148" id="linknote-148"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -148 (<a href="#linknoteref-148">return</a>)<br/> -Debates, 1st to 17th June 1789 (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 422-478). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-149" id="linknote-149"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -149 (<a href="#linknoteref-149">return</a>)<br/> -Bailly, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 185-206. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-150" id="linknote-150"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -150 (<a href="#linknoteref-150">return</a>)<br/> -See Arthur Young (<i>Travels</i>, i. 115-118); A. Lameth, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-151" id="linknote-151"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -151 (<a href="#linknoteref-151">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, c. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-152" id="linknote-152"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -152 (<a href="#linknoteref-152">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, i. 13. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-153" id="linknote-153"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -153 (<a href="#linknoteref-153">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 22.). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-154" id="linknote-154"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -154 (<a href="#linknoteref-154">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 38. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-155" id="linknote-155"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -155 (<a href="#linknoteref-155">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 26. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-156" id="linknote-156"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -156 (<a href="#linknoteref-156">return</a>)<br/> -Bailly, i. 217. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-157" id="linknote-157"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -157 (<a href="#linknoteref-157">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 23. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-158" id="linknote-158"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -158 (<a href="#linknoteref-158">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 47. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-159" id="linknote-159"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -159 (<a href="#linknoteref-159">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 119. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-160" id="linknote-160"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -160 (<a href="#linknoteref-160">return</a>)<br/> -A. Lameth, <i>Assemblée Constituante</i>, i. 41. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-161" id="linknote-161"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -161 (<a href="#linknoteref-161">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 398. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-162" id="linknote-162"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -162 (<a href="#linknoteref-162">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Tableau de Paris</i>, vi. 22. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-163" id="linknote-163"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -163 (<a href="#linknoteref-163">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-164" id="linknote-164"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -164 (<a href="#linknoteref-164">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, Londres (Paris), 1800, ii. 198. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-165" id="linknote-165"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -165 (<a href="#linknoteref-165">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 394-6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-166" id="linknote-166"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -166 (<a href="#linknoteref-166">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 32. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-167" id="linknote-167"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -167 (<a href="#linknoteref-167">return</a>)<br/> -Dusaulx, <i>Prise de la Bastille</i> (<i>Collection des Mémoires</i>, par -Berville et Barrière, Paris, 1821), p. 269. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-168" id="linknote-168"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -168 (<a href="#linknoteref-168">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Avis au Peuple, ou les Ministres dévoilés</i>, 1st July, 1789 in <i>Histoire -Parlementaire</i>, ii. 37. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-169" id="linknote-169"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -169 (<a href="#linknoteref-169">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 411. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-170" id="linknote-170"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -170 (<a href="#linknoteref-170">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 81. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-171" id="linknote-171"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -171 (<a href="#linknoteref-171">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-172" id="linknote-172"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -172 (<a href="#linknoteref-172">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Vieux Cordelier</i>, par Camille Desmoulins, No. 5 (reprinted in -<i>Collection des Mémoires</i>, par Baudouin Frères, Paris, 1825), p. 81. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-173" id="linknote-173"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -173 (<a href="#linknoteref-173">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ii. 75-91. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-174" id="linknote-174"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -174 (<a href="#linknoteref-174">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, i. 267-306. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-175" id="linknote-175"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -175 (<a href="#linknoteref-175">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 96. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-176" id="linknote-176"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -176 (<a href="#linknoteref-176">return</a>)<br/> -Dusaulx, <i>Prise de la Bastille</i>, p. 20. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-177" id="linknote-177"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -177 (<a href="#linknoteref-177">return</a>)<br/> -See Lameth; Ferrieres, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-178" id="linknote-178"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -178 (<a href="#linknoteref-178">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis de la Liberté</i>, i. 312. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-179" id="linknote-179"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -179 (<a href="#linknoteref-179">return</a>)<br/> -Fils Adoptif, <i>Mirabeau</i>, vi. l. 1. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-180" id="linknote-180"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -180 (<a href="#linknoteref-180">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 414. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-181" id="linknote-181"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -181 (<a href="#linknoteref-181">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Tableaux de la Révolution, Prise de la Bastille</i> (a folio Collection of -Pictures and Portraits, with letter-press, not always uninstructive,—part -of it said to be by Chamfort). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-182" id="linknote-182"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -182 (<a href="#linknoteref-182">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, i. 302. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-183" id="linknote-183"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -183 (<a href="#linknoteref-183">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 416. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-184" id="linknote-184"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -184 (<a href="#linknoteref-184">return</a>)<br/> -Fauchet’s <i>Narrative</i> (<i>Deux Amis</i>, i. 324.). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-185" id="linknote-185"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -185 (<a href="#linknoteref-185">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i> (i. 319); Dusaulx, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-186" id="linknote-186"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -186 (<a href="#linknoteref-186">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire de la Révolution</i>, par Deux Amis de la Liberté, i. 267-306; -Besenval, iii. 410-434; Dusaulx, <i>Prise de la Bastille</i>, 291-301. Bailly, -<i>Mémoires</i> (<i>Collection de Berville et Barrière</i>), i. 322 et seqq. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-187" id="linknote-187"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -187 (<a href="#linknoteref-187">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dated</i>, à la Bastille, 7 Octobre, 1752; <i>signed</i> Queret-Demery. -<i>Bastille Dévoilée</i>, in Linguet, <i>Mémoires sur la Bastille</i> (Paris, -1821), p. 199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-188" id="linknote-188"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -188 (<a href="#linknoteref-188">return</a>)<br/> -Dusaulx. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-189" id="linknote-189"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -189 (<a href="#linknoteref-189">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie Universelle</i>, § Moreau Saint-Méry (by Fournier-Pescay). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-190" id="linknote-190"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -190 (<a href="#linknoteref-190">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ii. 126. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-191" id="linknote-191"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -191 (<a href="#linknoteref-191">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 46-64. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-192" id="linknote-192"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -192 (<a href="#linknoteref-192">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, (i. 95); Weber, &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-193" id="linknote-193"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -193 (<a href="#linknoteref-193">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 146-9. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-194" id="linknote-194"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -194 (<a href="#linknoteref-194">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis de la Liberté,</i> ii. 60-6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-195" id="linknote-195"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -195 (<a href="#linknoteref-195">return</a>)<br/> -“<i>Il a volé le Roi et la France</i> (He robbed the King and France).” “He -devoured the substance of the People.” “He was the slave of the rich, and the -tyrant of the poor.” “He drank the blood of the widow and orphan.” “He betrayed -his country.” See <i>Deux Amis</i>, ii. 67-73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-196" id="linknote-196"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -196 (<a href="#linknoteref-196">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 305. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-197" id="linknote-197"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -197 (<a href="#linknoteref-197">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure: <i>Histoire de Paris</i>, viii. 434. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-198" id="linknote-198"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -198 (<a href="#linknoteref-198">return</a>)<br/> -Moniteur: <i>Séance du Samedi</i> 18 <i>Juillet</i> 1789 in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 137. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-199" id="linknote-199"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -199 (<a href="#linknoteref-199">return</a>)<br/> -Dusaulx: <i>Prise de la Bastille</i>, p. 447, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-200" id="linknote-200"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -200 (<a href="#linknoteref-200">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 111. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-201" id="linknote-201"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -201 (<a href="#linknoteref-201">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie Universelle</i>, § D’Espréménil (by Beaulieu). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-202" id="linknote-202"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -202 (<a href="#linknoteref-202">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, ii. 519. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-203" id="linknote-203"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -203 (<a href="#linknoteref-203">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, No. 67 (in <i>Hist.Parl.</i>). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-204" id="linknote-204"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -204 (<a href="#linknoteref-204">return</a>)<br/> -See Toulongeon, i. c. 3. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-205" id="linknote-205"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -205 (<a href="#linknoteref-205">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 255. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-206" id="linknote-206"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -206 (<a href="#linknoteref-206">return</a>)<br/> -See Dumont (pp. 159-67); Arthur Young, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-207" id="linknote-207"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -207 (<a href="#linknoteref-207">return</a>)<br/> -Besenval, iii. 419. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-208" id="linknote-208"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -208 (<a href="#linknoteref-208">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 165. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-209" id="linknote-209"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -209 (<a href="#linknoteref-209">return</a>)<br/> -A.D. 1835. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-210" id="linknote-210"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -210 (<a href="#linknoteref-210">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 108. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-211" id="linknote-211"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -211 (<a href="#linknoteref-211">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 129, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-212" id="linknote-212"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -212 (<a href="#linknoteref-212">return</a>)<br/> -Fils Adoptif: <i>Mémoires de Mirabeau</i>, i. 364-394. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-213" id="linknote-213"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -213 (<a href="#linknoteref-213">return</a>)<br/> -See Arthur Young, i. 137, 150, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-214" id="linknote-214"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -214 (<a href="#linknoteref-214">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. i. 134. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-215" id="linknote-215"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -215 (<a href="#linknoteref-215">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 243-6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-216" id="linknote-216"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -216 (<a href="#linknoteref-216">return</a>)<br/> -See Young, i. 149, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-217" id="linknote-217"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -217 (<a href="#linknoteref-217">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 12, 48, 84, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-218" id="linknote-218"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -218 (<a href="#linknoteref-218">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 161. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-219" id="linknote-219"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -219 (<a href="#linknoteref-219">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young, i. 141.—Dampmartin: <i>Evénemens qui se sont passés sous mes yeux</i>, i. 105-127. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-220" id="linknote-220"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -220 (<a href="#linknoteref-220">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie Universelle</i>, § Necker (by Lally-Tollendal). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-221" id="linknote-221"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -221 (<a href="#linknoteref-221">return</a>)<br/> -Gibbon’s <i>Letters.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-222" id="linknote-222"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -222 (<a href="#linknoteref-222">return</a>)<br/> -Young, i. 176. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-223" id="linknote-223"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -223 (<a href="#linknoteref-223">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> iii. 20; Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-224" id="linknote-224"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -224 (<a href="#linknoteref-224">return</a>)<br/> -See Bailly, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 137-409. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-225" id="linknote-225"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -225 (<a href="#linknoteref-225">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 421. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-226" id="linknote-226"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -226 (<a href="#linknoteref-226">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 359, 417, 423. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-227" id="linknote-227"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -227 (<a href="#linknoteref-227">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 427. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-228" id="linknote-228"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -228 (<a href="#linknoteref-228">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 156. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-229" id="linknote-229"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -229 (<a href="#linknoteref-229">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Révolutions de Paris Newspaper</i> (cited in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, ii. 357). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-230" id="linknote-230"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -230 (<a href="#linknoteref-230">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Brouillon de Lettre de M. d’Estaing à la Reine</i> in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, iii. 24. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-231" id="linknote-231"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -231 (<a href="#linknoteref-231">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Histoire Parlementaire</i>, iii. 59); <i>Deux Amis</i> -(iii. 128-141); Campan (ii. 70-85), &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-232" id="linknote-232"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -232 (<a href="#linknoteref-232">return</a>)<br/> -Camille’s Newspaper, <i>Révolutions de Paris et de Brabant</i> in <i>Histoire -Parlementaire</i>, iii. 108. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-233" id="linknote-233"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -233 (<a href="#linknoteref-233">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 141-166. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-234" id="linknote-234"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -234 (<a href="#linknoteref-234">return</a>)<br/> -Dusaulx, <i>Prise de la Bastille</i> (note, p. 281.). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-235" id="linknote-235"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -235 (<a href="#linknoteref-235">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 157. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-236" id="linknote-236"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -236 (<a href="#linknoteref-236">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> iii. 310. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-237" id="linknote-237"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -237 (<a href="#linknoteref-237">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 159. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-238" id="linknote-238"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -238 (<a href="#linknoteref-238">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. iii. 177; <i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, ii. 379. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-239" id="linknote-239"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -239 (<a href="#linknoteref-239">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 161. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-240" id="linknote-240"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -240 (<a href="#linknoteref-240">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 165. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-241" id="linknote-241"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -241 (<a href="#linknoteref-241">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> iii. 70-117; <i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 166-177, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-242" id="linknote-242"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -242 (<a href="#linknoteref-242">return</a>)<br/> -Mounier, <i>Exposé Justificatif</i> (cited in <i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 185). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-243" id="linknote-243"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -243 (<a href="#linknoteref-243">return</a>)<br/> -See Weber, ii. 185-231. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-244" id="linknote-244"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -244 (<a href="#linknoteref-244">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 192-201. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-245" id="linknote-245"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -245 (<a href="#linknoteref-245">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-246" id="linknote-246"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -246 (<a href="#linknoteref-246">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, <i>Deux Amis</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-247" id="linknote-247"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -247 (<a href="#linknoteref-247">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 105). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-248" id="linknote-248"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -248 (<a href="#linknoteref-248">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. 208. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-249" id="linknote-249"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -249 (<a href="#linknoteref-249">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Courier de Provence</i> (Mirabeau’s Newspaper), No. 50, p. 19. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-250" id="linknote-250"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -250 (<a href="#linknoteref-250">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoire de M. le Comte de Lally-Tollendal</i> (Janvier 1790), p. 161-165. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-251" id="linknote-251"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -251 (<a href="#linknoteref-251">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Déposition de Lecointre</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> iii. 111-115.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-252" id="linknote-252"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -252 (<a href="#linknoteref-252">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 75-87. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-253" id="linknote-253"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -253 (<a href="#linknoteref-253">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. 144. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-254" id="linknote-254"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -254 (<a href="#linknoteref-254">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, 1 App. 120. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-255" id="linknote-255"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -255 (<a href="#linknoteref-255">return</a>)<br/> -Calumnious rumour, current long since, in loose vehicles (<i>Edinburgh Review</i> on -<i>Mémoires de Bastille</i>, for example), concerning Friedrich Wilhelm and his ways, -then so mysterious and miraculous to many;—not the least truth in it! (<i>Note of</i> 1858.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-256" id="linknote-256"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -256 (<a href="#linknoteref-256">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Rapport de Chabroud</i> (<i>Moniteur</i>, du 31 December, 1789). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-257" id="linknote-257"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -257 (<a href="#linknoteref-257">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. 150. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-258" id="linknote-258"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -258 (<a href="#linknoteref-258">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-259" id="linknote-259"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -259 (<a href="#linknoteref-259">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. 134-161; <i>Deux Amis</i> (iii. c. 9); &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-260" id="linknote-260"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -260 (<a href="#linknoteref-260">return</a>)<br/> -Arthur Young’s <i>Travels</i>, i. 264-280. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-261" id="linknote-261"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -261 (<a href="#linknoteref-261">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. c. 10. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-262" id="linknote-262"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -262 (<a href="#linknoteref-262">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Le Château des Tuileries, ou récit, &c.</i>, par Roussel (in <i>Hist. -Parl.</i> iv. 195-219). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-263" id="linknote-263"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -263 (<a href="#linknoteref-263">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Nos. 65, 86 (29th September, 7th November, 1789). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-264" id="linknote-264"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -264 (<a href="#linknoteref-264">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs</i>, p. 278. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-265" id="linknote-265"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -265 (<a href="#linknoteref-265">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, <i>Evénemens</i>, i. 208. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-266" id="linknote-266"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -266 (<a href="#linknoteref-266">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Deux Amis</i>, iii. c. 14; iv. c. 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 14. <i>Expédition des -Volontaires de Brest sur Lannion; Les Lyonnais Sauveurs des Dauphinois; -Massacre au Mans; Troubles du Maine</i> (Pamphlets and Excerpts, in <i>Hist. -Parl.</i> iii. 251; iv. 162-168), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-267" id="linknote-267"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -267 (<a href="#linknoteref-267">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Deux Amis</i>, iv. c. 14, 7; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vi. 384. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-268" id="linknote-268"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -268 (<a href="#linknoteref-268">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Barbaroux</i> (Paris, 1822), p. 57. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-269" id="linknote-269"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -269 (<a href="#linknoteref-269">return</a>)<br/> -21st October, 1789 (<i>Moniteur</i>, No. 76). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-270" id="linknote-270"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -270 (<a href="#linknoteref-270">return</a>)<br/> -Buzot, <i>Mémoires</i> (Paris, 1823), p. 90. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-271" id="linknote-271"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -271 (<a href="#linknoteref-271">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 28, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-272" id="linknote-272"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -272 (<a href="#linknoteref-272">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs sur Mirabeau</i>, p. 399. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-273" id="linknote-273"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -273 (<a href="#linknoteref-273">return</a>)<br/> -A trustworthy gentleman writes to me, three years ago, with a feeling which I cannot -but respect, that his Father, “the late Admiral Nesham” (not <i>Needham</i>, -as the French Journalists give it) is the Englishman meant; and furthermore -that the sword is “not rusted at all,” but still lies, with the due memory -attached to it, in his (the son’s) possession, at Plymouth, in a clear -state. (<i>Note of</i> 1857.) -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-274" id="linknote-274"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -274 (<a href="#linknoteref-274">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, 10 Novembre, 7 Decembre, 1789. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-275" id="linknote-275"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -275 (<a href="#linknoteref-275">return</a>)<br/> -De Pauw, <i>Recherches sur les Grecs</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-276" id="linknote-276"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -276 (<a href="#linknoteref-276">return</a>)<br/> -Naigeon: <i>Addresse à l’Assemblée Nationale</i> (Paris, 1790) <i>sur la liberté -des opinions.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-277" id="linknote-277"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -277 (<a href="#linknoteref-277">return</a>)<br/> -See Marmontel, <i>Mémoires</i>, passim; Morellet, <i>Mémoires</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-278" id="linknote-278"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -278 (<a href="#linknoteref-278">return</a>)<br/> -Hannah More’s <i>Life and Correspondence</i>, ii. c. 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-279" id="linknote-279"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -279 (<a href="#linknoteref-279">return</a>)<br/> -De Staal: <i>Mémoires</i> (Paris, 1821), i. 169-280. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-280" id="linknote-280"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -280 (<a href="#linknoteref-280">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont: <i>Souvenirs</i>, 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-281" id="linknote-281"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -281 (<a href="#linknoteref-281">return</a>)<br/> -See Bertrand-Moleville: <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 100, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-282" id="linknote-282"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -282 (<a href="#linknoteref-282">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, <i>Histoire de Paris</i>, viii. 483; Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-283" id="linknote-283"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -283 (<a href="#linknoteref-283">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> vi. 334. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-284" id="linknote-284"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -284 (<a href="#linknoteref-284">return</a>)<br/> -See Bertrand-Moleville, i. 241, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-285" id="linknote-285"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -285 (<a href="#linknoteref-285">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> iv. 445. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-286" id="linknote-286"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -286 (<a href="#linknoteref-286">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. c. 7. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-287" id="linknote-287"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -287 (<a href="#linknoteref-287">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-288" id="linknote-288"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -288 (<a href="#linknoteref-288">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> vii. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-289" id="linknote-289"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -289 (<a href="#linknoteref-289">return</a>)<br/> -Reports, &c. (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 122-147). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-290" id="linknote-290"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -290 (<a href="#linknoteref-290">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, <i>Mémoires</i>, i.(Discours Préliminaire, p. 23). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-291" id="linknote-291"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -291 (<a href="#linknoteref-291">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xii. 274. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-292" id="linknote-292"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -292 (<a href="#linknoteref-292">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 122; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-293" id="linknote-293"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -293 (<a href="#linknoteref-293">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, &c. (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xii. 283). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-294" id="linknote-294"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -294 (<a href="#linknoteref-294">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, iv. iii. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-295" id="linknote-295"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -295 (<a href="#linknoteref-295">return</a>)<br/> -23rd December, 1789 (Newspapers in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> iv. 44). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-296" id="linknote-296"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -296 (<a href="#linknoteref-296">return</a>)<br/> -See Newspapers, &c. (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vi. 381-406). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-297" id="linknote-297"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -297 (<a href="#linknoteref-297">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier. ii. 76, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-298" id="linknote-298"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -298 (<a href="#linknoteref-298">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, ii. 81. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-299" id="linknote-299"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -299 (<a href="#linknoteref-299">return</a>)<br/> -Narrative by a Lorraine Federate (given in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vi. 389-91). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-300" id="linknote-300"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -300 (<a href="#linknoteref-300">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 168. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-301" id="linknote-301"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -301 (<a href="#linknoteref-301">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 143-179. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-302" id="linknote-302"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -302 (<a href="#linknoteref-302">return</a>)<br/> -See his <i>Lettre au Peuple Français</i>, London, 1786. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-303" id="linknote-303"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -303 (<a href="#linknoteref-303">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, Evénemens, i. 144-184. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-304" id="linknote-304"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -304 (<a href="#linknoteref-304">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, <i>Histoire de Paris</i>, viii. 25. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-305" id="linknote-305"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -305 (<a href="#linknoteref-305">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, <i>Mémoires</i> (London, 1797), i. c. 8. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-306" id="linknote-306"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -306 (<a href="#linknoteref-306">return</a>)<br/> -See Newspapers of July, 1789 (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ii. 35), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-307" id="linknote-307"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -307 (<a href="#linknoteref-307">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, <i>Evénemens</i>, i. 89. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-308" id="linknote-308"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -308 (<a href="#linknoteref-308">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, <i>Evénemens</i>, i. 122-146. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-309" id="linknote-309"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -309 (<a href="#linknoteref-309">return</a>)<br/> -Norvins, <i>Histoire de Napoléon</i>, i. 47; Las Cases, <i>Mémoires</i> -translated into Hazlitt’s <i>Life of Napoleon</i>, i. 23-31. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-310" id="linknote-310"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -310 (<a href="#linknoteref-310">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, 1790. No. 233. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-311" id="linknote-311"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -311 (<a href="#linknoteref-311">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 113. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-312" id="linknote-312"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -312 (<a href="#linknoteref-312">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, i. 140-5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-313" id="linknote-313"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -313 (<a href="#linknoteref-313">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vii. 29). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-314" id="linknote-314"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -314 (<a href="#linknoteref-314">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 9 Août 1790. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-315" id="linknote-315"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -315 (<a href="#linknoteref-315">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 217. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-316" id="linknote-316"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -316 (<a href="#linknoteref-316">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, i. c. 9. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-317" id="linknote-317"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -317 (<a href="#linknoteref-317">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. c. 8. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-318" id="linknote-318"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -318 (<a href="#linknoteref-318">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 206-251; Newspapers and Documents in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vii. 59-162. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-319" id="linknote-319"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -319 (<a href="#linknoteref-319">return</a>)<br/> -Compare Bouillé, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. 153-176; <i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 251-271; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-320" id="linknote-320"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -320 (<a href="#linknoteref-320">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 268. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-321" id="linknote-321"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -321 (<a href="#linknoteref-321">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, i. 175. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-322" id="linknote-322"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -322 (<a href="#linknoteref-322">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Ami du Peuple</i> in <i>Hist. Parl.</i>, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-323" id="linknote-323"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -323 (<a href="#linknoteref-323">return</a>)<br/> -Knox’s <i>History of the Reformation,</i> b. i. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-324" id="linknote-324"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -324 (<a href="#linknoteref-324">return</a>)<br/> -See Dampmartin, i. 249, &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-325" id="linknote-325"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -325 (<a href="#linknoteref-325">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, <i>passim</i>. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-326" id="linknote-326"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -326 (<a href="#linknoteref-326">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, iii. 163. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-327" id="linknote-327"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -327 (<a href="#linknoteref-327">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vii. 51. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-328" id="linknote-328"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -328 (<a href="#linknoteref-328">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Ami du Peuple</i>, No. 306. See other Excerpts in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> viii. 139-149, 428-433; ix. 85-93, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-329" id="linknote-329"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -329 (<a href="#linknoteref-329">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, i. 184. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-330" id="linknote-330"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -330 (<a href="#linknoteref-330">return</a>)<br/> -<i>De Bello Gallico</i>, lib. iv. 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-331" id="linknote-331"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -331 (<a href="#linknoteref-331">return</a>)<br/> -See Brissot, <i>Patriote-Français</i> Newspaper; Fauchet, <i>Bouche-de-Fer</i>, -&c. (excerpted in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> viii., ix., et seqq.). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-332" id="linknote-332"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -332 (<a href="#linknoteref-332">return</a>)<br/> -Camille’s Journal (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 366-85). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-333" id="linknote-333"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -333 (<a href="#linknoteref-333">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 21 Août, 1790. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-334" id="linknote-334"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -334 (<a href="#linknoteref-334">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Révolutions de Paris</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> viii. 440). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-335" id="linknote-335"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -335 (<a href="#linknoteref-335">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> vii. 316; Bertrand-Moleville, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-336" id="linknote-336"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -336 (<a href="#linknoteref-336">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 105. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-337" id="linknote-337"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -337 (<a href="#linknoteref-337">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 199-201. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-338" id="linknote-338"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -338 (<a href="#linknoteref-338">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, ii. 129. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-339" id="linknote-339"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -339 (<a href="#linknoteref-339">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 204. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-340" id="linknote-340"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -340 (<a href="#linknoteref-340">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 17. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-341" id="linknote-341"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -341 (<a href="#linknoteref-341">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, p. 211. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-342" id="linknote-342"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -342 (<a href="#linknoteref-342">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Correspondence Secrète</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> viii. 169-73). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-343" id="linknote-343"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -343 (<a href="#linknoteref-343">return</a>)<br/> -Carra’s Newspaper, 1st Feb. 1791 (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 39). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-344" id="linknote-344"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -344 (<a href="#linknoteref-344">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 132. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-345" id="linknote-345"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -345 (<a href="#linknoteref-345">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 282; <i>Deux Amis</i>, vi. c. 1. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-346" id="linknote-346"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -346 (<a href="#linknoteref-346">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 285. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-347" id="linknote-347"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -347 (<a href="#linknoteref-347">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vi. 11-15; Newspapers (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 111-17). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-348" id="linknote-348"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -348 (<a href="#linknoteref-348">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ii. 286. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-349" id="linknote-349"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -349 (<a href="#linknoteref-349">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 139-48. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-350" id="linknote-350"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -350 (<a href="#linknoteref-350">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, ii. 286. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-351" id="linknote-351"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -351 (<a href="#linknoteref-351">return</a>)<br/> -See Mercier, ii. 40, 202. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-352" id="linknote-352"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -352 (<a href="#linknoteref-352">return</a>)<br/> -Ordonnance du 17 Mars 1791 (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 257). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-353" id="linknote-353"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -353 (<a href="#linknoteref-353">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Fils Adoptif</i>, vii. 1. 6; Dumont, c. 11, 12, 14. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-354" id="linknote-354"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -354 (<a href="#linknoteref-354">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Fils Adoptif</i>, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-355" id="linknote-355"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -355 (<a href="#linknoteref-355">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, p. 311. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-356" id="linknote-356"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -356 (<a href="#linknoteref-356">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, p. 267. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-357" id="linknote-357"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -357 (<a href="#linknoteref-357">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Fils Adoptif</i>, viii. 420-79. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-358" id="linknote-358"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -358 (<a href="#linknoteref-358">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Fils Adoptif</i>, viii. 450; <i>Journal de la maladie et de la mort de -Mirabeau</i>, par P.J.G. Cabanis (Paris, 1803). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-359" id="linknote-359"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -359 (<a href="#linknoteref-359">return</a>)<br/> -Hénault, <i>Abrégé Chronologique</i>, p. 429. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-360" id="linknote-360"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -360 (<a href="#linknoteref-360">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Fils Adoptif</i>, viii. l. 10; Newspapers and Excerpts (in <i>Hist. -Parl.</i> ix. 366-402). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-361" id="linknote-361"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -361 (<a href="#linknoteref-361">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 405. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-362" id="linknote-362"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -362 (<a href="#linknoteref-362">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 13 Juillet 1791. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-363" id="linknote-363"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -363 (<a href="#linknoteref-363">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 18 Septembre, 1794. See also du 30 Août, &c. 1791. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-364" id="linknote-364"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -364 (<a href="#linknoteref-364">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, p. 287. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-365" id="linknote-365"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -365 (<a href="#linknoteref-365">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. 262. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-366" id="linknote-366"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -366 (<a href="#linknoteref-366">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers of April and June, 1791 (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 449; x, 217). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-367" id="linknote-367"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -367 (<a href="#linknoteref-367">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vi. c. 1; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> ix. 407-14. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-368" id="linknote-368"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -368 (<a href="#linknoteref-368">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, v. 410-21; Dumouriez, ii. c. 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-369" id="linknote-369"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -369 (<a href="#linknoteref-369">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> x. 99-102. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-370" id="linknote-370"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -370 (<a href="#linknoteref-370">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 18. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-371" id="linknote-371"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -371 (<a href="#linknoteref-371">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. c. 10. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-372" id="linknote-372"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -372 (<a href="#linknoteref-372">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 23 Avril, 1791. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-373" id="linknote-373"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -373 (<a href="#linknoteref-373">return</a>)<br/> -Choiseul, <i>Relation du Départ de Louis XVI.</i> (Paris, 1822), p. 39. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-374" id="linknote-374"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -374 (<a href="#linknoteref-374">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 141. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-375" id="linknote-375"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -375 (<a href="#linknoteref-375">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ii. 340-2; Choiseul, p. 44-56. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-376" id="linknote-376"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -376 (<a href="#linknoteref-376">return</a>)<br/> -Hénault, <i>Abrégé Chronologique</i>, p. 36. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-377" id="linknote-377"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -377 (<a href="#linknoteref-377">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vi. 67-178; Toulongeon, ii. 1-38; Camille, Prudhomme and -Editors in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> x. 240-4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-378" id="linknote-378"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -378 (<a href="#linknoteref-378">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Walpoliana.</i> -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-379" id="linknote-379"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -379 (<a href="#linknoteref-379">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, c. 16. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-380" id="linknote-380"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -380 (<a href="#linknoteref-380">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 109. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-381" id="linknote-381"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -381 (<a href="#linknoteref-381">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, ii. 70. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-382" id="linknote-382"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -382 (<a href="#linknoteref-382">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> x. 244-253. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-383" id="linknote-383"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -383 (<a href="#linknoteref-383">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Déclaration du Sieur La Gache du Régiment Royal-Dragoons</i> in Choiseul, pp. 125-39. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-384" id="linknote-384"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -384 (<a href="#linknoteref-384">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Rapport de M. Remy</i> in Choiseul, p. 143. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-385" id="linknote-385"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -385 (<a href="#linknoteref-385">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Déclaration de La Gache</i> (in Choiseul, ubi supra). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-386" id="linknote-386"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -386 (<a href="#linknoteref-386">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Déclaration de La Gache</i> (in Choiseul, p. 134). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-387" id="linknote-387"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -387 (<a href="#linknoteref-387">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 159. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-388" id="linknote-388"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -388 (<a href="#linknoteref-388">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Procès-verbal du Directoire de Clermont</i> (in Choiseul, p. 189-95). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-389" id="linknote-389"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -389 (<a href="#linknoteref-389">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vi. 139-78. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-390" id="linknote-390"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -390 (<a href="#linknoteref-390">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Rapport de M. Aubriot</i> (in Choiseul, p. 150-7). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-391" id="linknote-391"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -391 (<a href="#linknoteref-391">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Extrait d’un Rapport de M. Deslons</i> (in Choiseul, p. 164-7). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-392" id="linknote-392"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -392 (<a href="#linknoteref-392">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, ii. 74-6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-393" id="linknote-393"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -393 (<a href="#linknoteref-393">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Déclaration du Sieur Thomas</i> (in Choiseul, p. 188). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-394" id="linknote-394"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -394 (<a href="#linknoteref-394">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, ii. 386. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-395" id="linknote-395"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -395 (<a href="#linknoteref-395">return</a>)<br/> -Aubriot, ut supra, p. 158. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-396" id="linknote-396"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -396 (<a href="#linknoteref-396">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 22. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-397" id="linknote-397"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -397 (<a href="#linknoteref-397">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 18. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-398" id="linknote-398"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -398 (<a href="#linknoteref-398">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. ii. 149. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-399" id="linknote-399"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -399 (<a href="#linknoteref-399">return</a>)<br/> -Bouillé, ii. 101. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-400" id="linknote-400"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -400 (<a href="#linknoteref-400">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, ii. 74. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-401" id="linknote-401"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -401 (<a href="#linknoteref-401">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xi. 104-7. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-402" id="linknote-402"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -402 (<a href="#linknoteref-402">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. xi. 113, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-403" id="linknote-403"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -403 (<a href="#linknoteref-403">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 56, 59. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-404" id="linknote-404"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -404 (<a href="#linknoteref-404">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-405" id="linknote-405"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -405 (<a href="#linknoteref-405">return</a>)<br/> -De Staël, <i>Considérations</i>, i. c. 23. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-406" id="linknote-406"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -406 (<a href="#linknoteref-406">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Choix de Rapports</i>, &c. (Paris, 1825), vi. 239-317. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-407" id="linknote-407"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -407 (<a href="#linknoteref-407">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xi. 473). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-408" id="linknote-408"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -408 (<a href="#linknoteref-408">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 150, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-409" id="linknote-409"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -409 (<a href="#linknoteref-409">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 370. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-410" id="linknote-410"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -410 (<a href="#linknoteref-410">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Choix de Rapports</i>, xi. 25. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-411" id="linknote-411"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -411 (<a href="#linknoteref-411">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 4 Octobre 1791. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-412" id="linknote-412"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -412 (<a href="#linknoteref-412">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iii. 1. 237. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-413" id="linknote-413"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -413 (<a href="#linknoteref-413">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 6 Juillet 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-414" id="linknote-414"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -414 (<a href="#linknoteref-414">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, <i>Evénemens</i>, i. 267. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-415" id="linknote-415"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -415 (<a href="#linknoteref-415">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, Mémoires, p. 26. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-416" id="linknote-416"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -416 (<a href="#linknoteref-416">return</a>)<br/> -Lescène Desmaisons, <i>Compte rendu à l’Assemblée Nationale</i>, 10 Septembre -1791 (<i>Choix des Rapports</i>, vii. 273-93). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-417" id="linknote-417"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -417 (<a href="#linknoteref-417">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Procès-verbal de la Commune d’Avignon</i>, &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> -xii. 419-23. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-418" id="linknote-418"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -418 (<a href="#linknoteref-418">return</a>)<br/> -Ugo Foscolo, <i>Essay on Petrarch</i>, p. 35. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-419" id="linknote-419"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -419 (<a href="#linknoteref-419">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, i. 251-94. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-420" id="linknote-420"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -420 (<a href="#linknoteref-420">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-421" id="linknote-421"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -421 (<a href="#linknoteref-421">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i> vii. (Paris, 1797), pp. 59-71. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-422" id="linknote-422"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -422 (<a href="#linknoteref-422">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, p. 21; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 421-4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-423" id="linknote-423"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -423 (<a href="#linknoteref-423">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, <i>Souvenirs</i>, p. 374. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-424" id="linknote-424"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -424 (<a href="#linknoteref-424">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 129. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-425" id="linknote-425"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -425 (<a href="#linknoteref-425">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xii. 131, 141; xiii. 114, 417. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-426" id="linknote-426"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -426 (<a href="#linknoteref-426">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, x. 157. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-427" id="linknote-427"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -427 (<a href="#linknoteref-427">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats des Jacobins</i>, &c. <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 171, 92-98. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-428" id="linknote-428"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -428 (<a href="#linknoteref-428">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. 177-202. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-429" id="linknote-429"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -429 (<a href="#linknoteref-429">return</a>)<br/> -Bertrand-Moleville, i. c. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-430" id="linknote-430"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -430 (<a href="#linknoteref-430">return</a>)<br/> -Moleville, i. 370. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-431" id="linknote-431"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -431 (<a href="#linknoteref-431">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. i. c. 17. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-432" id="linknote-432"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -432 (<a href="#linknoteref-432">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iii. 41. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-433" id="linknote-433"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -433 (<a href="#linknoteref-433">return</a>)<br/> -Bertrand-Moleville, i. 177. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-434" id="linknote-434"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -434 (<a href="#linknoteref-434">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, i. 256. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-435" id="linknote-435"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -435 (<a href="#linknoteref-435">return</a>)<br/> -30th March 1792 (<i>Annual Register</i>, p. 11). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-436" id="linknote-436"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -436 (<a href="#linknoteref-436">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 100-117. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-437" id="linknote-437"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -437 (<a href="#linknoteref-437">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iii. 517; Toulongeon, (ubi supra). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-438" id="linknote-438"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -438 (<a href="#linknoteref-438">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 11-38, 41-61, 358, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-439" id="linknote-439"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -439 (<a href="#linknoteref-439">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 2 Novembre 1791 (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xii. 212). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-440" id="linknote-440"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -440 (<a href="#linknoteref-440">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Ami du Roi</i> Newspaper in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 175. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-441" id="linknote-441"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -441 (<a href="#linknoteref-441">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 23 Janvier, 1792; <i>Biographie des Ministres</i> § -Narbonne. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-442" id="linknote-442"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -442 (<a href="#linknoteref-442">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. c. 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-443" id="linknote-443"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -443 (<a href="#linknoteref-443">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, i. 201. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-444" id="linknote-444"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -444 (<a href="#linknoteref-444">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 15 Juillet 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-445" id="linknote-445"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -445 (<a href="#linknoteref-445">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers, &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 325. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-446" id="linknote-446"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -446 (<a href="#linknoteref-446">return</a>)<br/> -December 1791 (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xii. 257). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-447" id="linknote-447"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -447 (<a href="#linknoteref-447">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 28 Mai 1792; Campan, ii. 196. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-448" id="linknote-448"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -448 (<a href="#linknoteref-448">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 168. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-449" id="linknote-449"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -449 (<a href="#linknoteref-449">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 19. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-450" id="linknote-450"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -450 (<a href="#linknoteref-450">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 7 Avril 1792; <i>Deux Amis</i>, vii. 111. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-451" id="linknote-451"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -451 (<a href="#linknoteref-451">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Moniteur</i>, Séances in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. xiv. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-452" id="linknote-452"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -452 (<a href="#linknoteref-452">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 137. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-453" id="linknote-453"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -453 (<a href="#linknoteref-453">return</a>)<br/> -16th February 1792 (<i>Choix des Rapports</i>, viii. 375-92). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-454" id="linknote-454"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -454 (<a href="#linknoteref-454">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Courrier de Paris</i>, 14 Janvier, 1792 (Gorsas’s Newspaper), in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 83. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-455" id="linknote-455"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -455 (<a href="#linknoteref-455">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Discours de Bailly, Réponse de Pétion</i> (<i>Moniteur</i> du 20 Novembre 1791). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-456" id="linknote-456"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -456 (<a href="#linknoteref-456">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, p. 94. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-457" id="linknote-457"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -457 (<a href="#linknoteref-457">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 29 Mars, 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-458" id="linknote-458"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -458 (<a href="#linknoteref-458">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 124. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-459" id="linknote-459"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -459 (<a href="#linknoteref-459">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats des Jacobins</i> (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 259, &c.). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-460" id="linknote-460"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -460 (<a href="#linknoteref-460">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, c. 20, 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-461" id="linknote-461"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -461 (<a href="#linknoteref-461">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, ii. 80-115. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-462" id="linknote-462"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -462 (<a href="#linknoteref-462">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vii. 146-66. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-463" id="linknote-463"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -463 (<a href="#linknoteref-463">return</a>)<br/> -Dumont, c. 19, 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-464" id="linknote-464"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -464 (<a href="#linknoteref-464">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers of February, March, April, 1792; Iambe d’André Chénier <i>sur la -Fête des Suisses;</i> &c., &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii, xiv. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-465" id="linknote-465"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -465 (<a href="#linknoteref-465">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Patriote-Français</i> (Brissot’s Newspaper), in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiii. 451. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-466" id="linknote-466"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -466 (<a href="#linknoteref-466">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 149. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-467" id="linknote-467"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -467 (<a href="#linknoteref-467">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 10 Juin 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-468" id="linknote-468"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -468 (<a href="#linknoteref-468">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats des Jacobins</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xiv. 429). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-469" id="linknote-469"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -469 (<a href="#linknoteref-469">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, ii. 115. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-470" id="linknote-470"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -470 (<a href="#linknoteref-470">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 18 Juin 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-471" id="linknote-471"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -471 (<a href="#linknoteref-471">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, p. 40. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-472" id="linknote-472"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -472 (<a href="#linknoteref-472">return</a>)<br/> -Rœderer, &c. &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xv. 98-194. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-473" id="linknote-473"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -473 (<a href="#linknoteref-473">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 173; Campan, ii. c. 20. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-474" id="linknote-474"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -474 (<a href="#linknoteref-474">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 28 Juin 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-475" id="linknote-475"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -475 (<a href="#linknoteref-475">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats des Jacobins</i> (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xv. 235). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-476" id="linknote-476"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -476 (<a href="#linknoteref-476">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, ii. 180. See also Dampmartin, ii. 161. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-477" id="linknote-477"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -477 (<a href="#linknoteref-477">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 259. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-478" id="linknote-478"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -478 (<a href="#linknoteref-478">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du Juillet 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-479" id="linknote-479"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -479 (<a href="#linknoteref-479">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 1, 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-480" id="linknote-480"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -480 (<a href="#linknoteref-480">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, ii. 183. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-481" id="linknote-481"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -481 (<a href="#linknoteref-481">return</a>)<br/> -See Barbaroux, <i>Mémoires</i> (Note in p. 40, 41). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-482" id="linknote-482"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -482 (<a href="#linknoteref-482">return</a>)<br/> -Dampmartin, ubi supra.—As to Dampmartin himself and what became of him -farther, see <i>Mémoires de la Comtesse de Lichtenau</i>, écrits par elle même; -traduits de A’llemand (à Londres 1809), i. 200-7; ii. 78-91. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-483" id="linknote-483"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -483 (<a href="#linknoteref-483">return</a>)<br/> -A.D. 1836. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-484" id="linknote-484"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -484 (<a href="#linknoteref-484">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 20; De Staël, ii. c. 7. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-485" id="linknote-485"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -485 (<a href="#linknoteref-485">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 21 Juillet 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-486" id="linknote-486"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -486 (<a href="#linknoteref-486">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 185. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-487" id="linknote-487"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -487 (<a href="#linknoteref-487">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Tableau de la Révolution</i>, § Patrie en Danger. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-488" id="linknote-488"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -488 (<a href="#linknoteref-488">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 25 Juillet 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-489" id="linknote-489"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -489 (<a href="#linknoteref-489">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Annual Register</i> (1792), p. 236. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-490" id="linknote-490"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -490 (<a href="#linknoteref-490">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, p. 60. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-491" id="linknote-491"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -491 (<a href="#linknoteref-491">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers, Narratives and Documents (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xv. 240; xvi. 399). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-492" id="linknote-492"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -492 (<a href="#linknoteref-492">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, viii. 90-101. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-493" id="linknote-493"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -493 (<a href="#linknoteref-493">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 196. See Barbaroux, p. 51-5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-494" id="linknote-494"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -494 (<a href="#linknoteref-494">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séances du 30, du 31 Juillet 1792 (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 197-210). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-495" id="linknote-495"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -495 (<a href="#linknoteref-495">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 337-9. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-496" id="linknote-496"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -496 (<a href="#linknoteref-496">return</a>)<br/> -Bertrand-Moleville, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 129. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-497" id="linknote-497"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -497 (<a href="#linknoteref-497">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, viii. 129-88. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-498" id="linknote-498"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -498 (<a href="#linknoteref-498">return</a>)<br/> -Rœderer à la Barre, (Séance du 9 Août in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 393). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-499" id="linknote-499"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -499 (<a href="#linknoteref-499">return</a>)<br/> -Rœderer, <i>Chronique de Cinquante Jours: Récit de Pétion</i>. Townhall -Records, &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvi. 399-466. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-500" id="linknote-500"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -500 (<a href="#linknoteref-500">return</a>)<br/> -Rœderer, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-501" id="linknote-501"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -501 (<a href="#linknoteref-501">return</a>)<br/> -24th August, 1572. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-502" id="linknote-502"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -502 (<a href="#linknoteref-502">return</a>)<br/> -Section Documents, Townhall Documents, (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ubi supra). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-503" id="linknote-503"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -503 (<a href="#linknoteref-503">return</a>)<br/> -Rœderer, ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-504" id="linknote-504"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -504 (<a href="#linknoteref-504">return</a>)<br/> -in Toulongeon, ii. 241. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-505" id="linknote-505"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -505 (<a href="#linknoteref-505">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, viii. 179-88. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-506" id="linknote-506"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -506 (<a href="#linknoteref-506">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> (xvii. 56); Las Cases, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-507" id="linknote-507"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -507 (<a href="#linknoteref-507">return</a>)<br/> -Moore, <i>Journal during a Residence in France</i> (Dublin, 1793), i. 26. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-508" id="linknote-508"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -508 (<a href="#linknoteref-508">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ubi supra. <i>Rapport du Captaine des Canonniers, Rapport du -Commandant</i>, &c. (Ibid. xvii. 300-18). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-509" id="linknote-509"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -509 (<a href="#linknoteref-509">return</a>)<br/> -Campan, ii. c. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-510" id="linknote-510"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -510 (<a href="#linknoteref-510">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 10 Août 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-511" id="linknote-511"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -511 (<a href="#linknoteref-511">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard. ii. 135-167. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-512" id="linknote-512"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -512 (<a href="#linknoteref-512">return</a>)<br/> -Moore’s <i>Journal</i>, i. 85. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-513" id="linknote-513"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -513 (<a href="#linknoteref-513">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 467. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-514" id="linknote-514"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -514 (<a href="#linknoteref-514">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. xvii. 437. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-515" id="linknote-515"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -515 (<a href="#linknoteref-515">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Buzot</i> (Paris, 1823), p. 88. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-516" id="linknote-516"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -516 (<a href="#linknoteref-516">return</a>)<br/> -Moore’s <i>Journal</i>, i. 159-168. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-517" id="linknote-517"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -517 (<a href="#linknoteref-517">return</a>)<br/> -See Toulongeon, <i>Hist. de France.</i> ii. c. 5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-518" id="linknote-518"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -518 (<a href="#linknoteref-518">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 148. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-519" id="linknote-519"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -519 (<a href="#linknoteref-519">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xix. 300. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-520" id="linknote-520"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -520 (<a href="#linknoteref-520">return</a>)<br/> -De Staël, <i>Considérations sur la Révolution</i>, ii. 67-81. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-521" id="linknote-521"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -521 (<a href="#linknoteref-521">return</a>)<br/> -Beaumarchais’ Narrative, <i>Mémoires sur les Prisons</i> (Paris, 1823), i. 179-90. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-522" id="linknote-522"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -522 (<a href="#linknoteref-522">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 383. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-523" id="linknote-523"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -523 (<a href="#linknoteref-523">return</a>)<br/> -Helen Maria Williams, <i>Letters from France</i> (London, 1791-93), iii. 96. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-524" id="linknote-524"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -524 (<a href="#linknoteref-524">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, ii. 391. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-525" id="linknote-525"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -525 (<a href="#linknoteref-525">return</a>)<br/> -Moore, i. 178. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-526" id="linknote-526"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -526 (<a href="#linknoteref-526">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 409. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-527" id="linknote-527"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -527 (<a href="#linknoteref-527">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie des Ministres</i> (Bruxelles, 1826), p. 96. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-528" id="linknote-528"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -528 (<a href="#linknoteref-528">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 347). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-529" id="linknote-529"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -529 (<a href="#linknoteref-529">return</a>)<br/> -Félémhesi (anagram for Méhée Fils), <i>La Verité tout entière, sur les vrais -auteurs de la journée du 2 Septembre</i> 1792 (reprinted in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> -xviii. 156-181), p. 167. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-530" id="linknote-530"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -530 (<a href="#linknoteref-530">return</a>)<br/> -Félémhesi, <i>La Verité tout entière</i> (ut supra), p. 173. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-531" id="linknote-531"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -531 (<a href="#linknoteref-531">return</a>)<br/> -Moore’s <i>Journal</i>, i. 185-195. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-532" id="linknote-532"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -532 (<a href="#linknoteref-532">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure: <i>Esquisses Historiques des principaux événemens de la -Révolution</i>, ii. 206 (cited in Montgaillard, iii. 205. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-533" id="linknote-533"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -533 (<a href="#linknoteref-533">return</a>)<br/> -Bertrand-Moleville, <i>Mém. Particuliers</i>, ii.213, &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-534" id="linknote-534"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -534 (<a href="#linknoteref-534">return</a>)<br/> -Jourgniac Saint-Méard, <i>Mon Agonie de Trente-huit heures</i> (reprinted in -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xviii. 103-135). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-535" id="linknote-535"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -535 (<a href="#linknoteref-535">return</a>)<br/> -Maton de la Varenne, <i>Ma Résurrection</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xviii. 135-156). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-536" id="linknote-536"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -536 (<a href="#linknoteref-536">return</a>)<br/> -Abbé Sicard, <i>Relation adressée à un de ses amis</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> -xviii. 98-103). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-537" id="linknote-537"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -537 (<a href="#linknoteref-537">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mon Agonie</i> (ut supra, <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xviii. 128). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-538" id="linknote-538"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -538 (<a href="#linknoteref-538">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Debate of 2nd September, 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-539" id="linknote-539"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -539 (<a href="#linknoteref-539">return</a>)<br/> -Méhée Fils (ut supra, in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xviii. p. 189). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-540" id="linknote-540"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -540 (<a href="#linknoteref-540">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iii. 191. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-541" id="linknote-541"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -541 (<a href="#linknoteref-541">return</a>)<br/> -Helen Maria Williams, iii. 27. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-542" id="linknote-542"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -542 (<a href="#linknoteref-542">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 421, 422. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-543" id="linknote-543"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -543 (<a href="#linknoteref-543">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> of 6th November, Debate of 5th November, 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-544" id="linknote-544"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -544 (<a href="#linknoteref-544">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Etat des sommes payées par la Commune de Paris</i> (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> -xviii. 231). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-545" id="linknote-545"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -545 (<a href="#linknoteref-545">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, vi. 21. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-546" id="linknote-546"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -546 (<a href="#linknoteref-546">return</a>)<br/> -9th to 13th September, 1572 (Dulaure, <i>Hist. de Paris</i>, iv. 289). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-547" id="linknote-547"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -547 (<a href="#linknoteref-547">return</a>)<br/> -Dulaure, iii. 494. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-548" id="linknote-548"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -548 (<a href="#linknoteref-548">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 433. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-549" id="linknote-549"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -549 (<a href="#linknoteref-549">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. xvii. 434. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-550" id="linknote-550"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -550 (<a href="#linknoteref-550">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Pièces officielles relatives au massacre des Prisonniers à Versailles</i> -(in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xviii. 236-249). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-551" id="linknote-551"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -551 (<a href="#linknoteref-551">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie des Ministres</i>, p. 97. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-552" id="linknote-552"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -552 (<a href="#linknoteref-552">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. p. 103. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-553" id="linknote-553"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -553 (<a href="#linknoteref-553">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, § Barras. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-554" id="linknote-554"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -554 (<a href="#linknoteref-554">return</a>)<br/> -Bertrand-Moleville, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 225. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-555" id="linknote-555"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -555 (<a href="#linknoteref-555">return</a>)<br/> -See Helen Maria Williams. <i>Letters</i>, iii. 79-81. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-556" id="linknote-556"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -556 (<a href="#linknoteref-556">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii. 29. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-557" id="linknote-557"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -557 (<a href="#linknoteref-557">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii. 55. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-558" id="linknote-558"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -558 (<a href="#linknoteref-558">return</a>)<br/> -Helen Maria Williams, iii. 32. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-559" id="linknote-559"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -559 (<a href="#linknoteref-559">return</a>)<br/> -Goethe, <i>Campagne in Frankreich</i> (<i>Werke</i>, xxx. 73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-560" id="linknote-560"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -560 (<a href="#linknoteref-560">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xix. 177. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-561" id="linknote-561"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -561 (<a href="#linknoteref-561">return</a>)<br/> -Goethe, xxx. 49. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-562" id="linknote-562"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -562 (<a href="#linknoteref-562">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xix. 19. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-563" id="linknote-563"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -563 (<a href="#linknoteref-563">return</a>)<br/> -Williams, iii. 71. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-564" id="linknote-564"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -564 (<a href="#linknoteref-564">return</a>)<br/> -1st October, 1792; Dumouriez, iii. 73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-565" id="linknote-565"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -565 (<a href="#linknoteref-565">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Bombardement de Lille</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xx. 63-71). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-566" id="linknote-566"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -566 (<a href="#linknoteref-566">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Campagne in Frankreich</i>, p. 103. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-567" id="linknote-567"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -567 (<a href="#linknoteref-567">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hermann und Dorothea</i> (also by Goethe), Buch <i>Kalliope</i>. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-568" id="linknote-568"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -568 (<a href="#linknoteref-568">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Campagne in Frankreich</i>, Goethe’s <i>Werke</i> (Stuttgart, 1829), xxx. 133-137. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-569" id="linknote-569"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -569 (<a href="#linknoteref-569">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Campagne in Frankreich</i>, Goethe’s <i>Werke</i>, xxx. 152. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-570" id="linknote-570"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -570 (<a href="#linknoteref-570">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. 210-12. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-571" id="linknote-571"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -571 (<a href="#linknoteref-571">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, iii. 115.—Marat’s account, In the <i>Débats des Jacobins</i> and -<i>Journal de la République</i> (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xix. 317-21), agrees to the turning on -the heel, but strives to interpret it differently. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-572" id="linknote-572"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -572 (<a href="#linknoteref-572">return</a>)<br/> -Johann Georg Forster’s <i>Briefwechsel</i> (Leipzig, 1829), i. 88. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-573" id="linknote-573"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -573 (<a href="#linknoteref-573">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xx. 184. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-574" id="linknote-574"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -574 (<a href="#linknoteref-574">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> Newspaper, Nos. 271, 280, 294, Annee premiere; Moore’s -<i>Journal</i>, ii. 21, 157, &c. (which, however, may perhaps, as in -similar cases, be only a copy of the Newspaper). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-575" id="linknote-575"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -575 (<a href="#linknoteref-575">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, ut supra; Séance du 25 Septembre. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-576" id="linknote-576"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -576 (<a href="#linknoteref-576">return</a>)<br/> -Madame Roland, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. 237, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-577" id="linknote-577"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -577 (<a href="#linknoteref-577">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, § Chambon. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-578" id="linknote-578"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -578 (<a href="#linknoteref-578">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xx. 412). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-579" id="linknote-579"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -579 (<a href="#linknoteref-579">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xx. 431-440. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-580" id="linknote-580"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -580 (<a href="#linknoteref-580">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. 409. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-581" id="linknote-581"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -581 (<a href="#linknoteref-581">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-582" id="linknote-582"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -582 (<a href="#linknoteref-582">return</a>)<br/> -Moore, i. 123; ii. 224, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-583" id="linknote-583"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -583 (<a href="#linknoteref-583">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 21 Septembre, An 1er (1792). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-584" id="linknote-584"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -584 (<a href="#linknoteref-584">return</a>)<br/> -Moore’s <i>Journal</i>, ii. 165. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-585" id="linknote-585"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -585 (<a href="#linknoteref-585">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii. 174. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-586" id="linknote-586"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -586 (<a href="#linknoteref-586">return</a>)<br/> -Moore, ii. 148. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-587" id="linknote-587"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -587 (<a href="#linknoteref-587">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, <i>Mémoires</i> (Paris, 1823) p. 52; <i>Moniteur</i> (Séances du 29 -Octobre, 5 Novembre, 1792); Moore (ii. 178), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-588" id="linknote-588"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -588 (<a href="#linknoteref-588">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xvii. 401; Newspapers by Gorsas and others (cited -<i>ibid.</i> 428). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-589" id="linknote-589"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -589 (<a href="#linknoteref-589">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Journal des Débats des Jacobins</i> in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxii. 296. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-590" id="linknote-590"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -590 (<a href="#linknoteref-590">return</a>)<br/> -Prudhomme’s Newspaper in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxi. 314. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-591" id="linknote-591"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -591 (<a href="#linknoteref-591">return</a>)<br/> -See Extracts from their Newspapers, in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxi. 1-38, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-592" id="linknote-592"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -592 (<a href="#linknoteref-592">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 14 Décembre 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-593" id="linknote-593"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -593 (<a href="#linknoteref-593">return</a>)<br/> -Mrs. Hannah More, <i>Letter to Jacob Dupont</i> (London, 1793); &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-594" id="linknote-594"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -594 (<a href="#linknoteref-594">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxii. 131; Moore, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-595" id="linknote-595"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -595 (<a href="#linknoteref-595">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiii. 31, 48, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-596" id="linknote-596"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -596 (<a href="#linknoteref-596">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 7 Decembre 1792. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-597" id="linknote-597"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -597 (<a href="#linknoteref-597">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii. c. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-598" id="linknote-598"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -598 (<a href="#linknoteref-598">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, vi. 156-59; Montgaillard, iii. 348-87; Moore, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-599" id="linknote-599"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -599 (<a href="#linknoteref-599">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiii. 210. See Boissy d’Anglas, <i>Vie -de Malesherbes</i>, ii. 139. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-600" id="linknote-600"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -600 (<a href="#linknoteref-600">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie des Ministres</i>, p. 157. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-601" id="linknote-601"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -601 (<a href="#linknoteref-601">return</a>)<br/> -See Prudhomme’s Newspaper, <i>Révolutions de Paris</i> in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiii. 318. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-602" id="linknote-602"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -602 (<a href="#linknoteref-602">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiii. 275, 318; Félix Lepelletier, <i>Vie de Michel -Lepelletier son Frère</i>, p. 61. &c. Félix, with due love of the -miraculous, will have it that the Suicide in the inn was not Paris, but some -<i>double-ganger</i> of his. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-603" id="linknote-603"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -603 (<a href="#linknoteref-603">return</a>)<br/> -Cléry’s <i>Narrative</i> (London, 1798), cited in Weber, iii. 312. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-604" id="linknote-604"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -604 (<a href="#linknoteref-604">return</a>)<br/> -Newspapers, Municipal Records, &c. &c. in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiii. -298-349; <i>Deux Amis</i>, ix. 369-373; Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 3-8. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-605" id="linknote-605"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -605 (<a href="#linknoteref-605">return</a>)<br/> -His Letter in the Newspapers (<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ubi supra). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-606" id="linknote-606"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -606 (<a href="#linknoteref-606">return</a>)<br/> -Forster’s <i>Briefwechsel</i>, i. 473. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-607" id="linknote-607"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -607 (<a href="#linknoteref-607">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> ubi supra. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-608" id="linknote-608"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -608 (<a href="#linknoteref-608">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Annual Register</i> of 1793, pp. 114-128. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-609" id="linknote-609"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -609 (<a href="#linknoteref-609">return</a>)<br/> -23d March, <i>Annual Register</i>, p. 161. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-610" id="linknote-610"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -610 (<a href="#linknoteref-610">return</a>)<br/> -1st February; 7th March, Moniteur of these dates. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-611" id="linknote-611"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -611 (<a href="#linknoteref-611">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> &c. <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiv. 332-348. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-612" id="linknote-612"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -612 (<a href="#linknoteref-612">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiv. 353-356. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-613" id="linknote-613"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -613 (<a href="#linknoteref-613">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii. 314. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-614" id="linknote-614"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -614 (<a href="#linknoteref-614">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, 1793, No. 140, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-615" id="linknote-615"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -615 (<a href="#linknoteref-615">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxv. 25, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-616" id="linknote-616"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -616 (<a href="#linknoteref-616">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxiv. 385-93; xxvi. 229, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-617" id="linknote-617"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -617 (<a href="#linknoteref-617">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 20 Mai 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-618" id="linknote-618"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -618 (<a href="#linknoteref-618">return</a>)<br/> -Genlis, <i>Mémoires</i> (London, 1825), iv. 118. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-619" id="linknote-619"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -619 (<a href="#linknoteref-619">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Meillan, Représentant du Peuple</i> (Paris, 1823), p. 51. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-620" id="linknote-620"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -620 (<a href="#linknoteref-620">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, iv. 16-73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-621" id="linknote-621"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -621 (<a href="#linknoteref-621">return</a>)<br/> -Forster’s <i>Briefwechsel</i>, ii. 514, 460, 631. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-622" id="linknote-622"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -622 (<a href="#linknoteref-622">return</a>)<br/> -See Dampmartin, <i>Evénemens</i>, ii. 213-30. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-623" id="linknote-623"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -623 (<a href="#linknoteref-623">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxv. 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-624" id="linknote-624"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -624 (<a href="#linknoteref-624">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xi. 277. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-625" id="linknote-625"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -625 (<a href="#linknoteref-625">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxv. 72. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-626" id="linknote-626"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -626 (<a href="#linknoteref-626">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, <i>Mémoires</i>, p. 72. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-627" id="linknote-627"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -627 (<a href="#linknoteref-627">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, pp. 23, 24; Louvet, pp. 71-80. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-628" id="linknote-628"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -628 (<a href="#linknoteref-628">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (Séance du 12 Mars), 15 Mars. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-629" id="linknote-629"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -629 (<a href="#linknoteref-629">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, <i>Mémoires</i>, pp. 85, 24. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-630" id="linknote-630"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -630 (<a href="#linknoteref-630">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, No. 70, (du 11 Mars), No. 76, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-631" id="linknote-631"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -631 (<a href="#linknoteref-631">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, No. 83 (du 24 Mars 1793), Nos. 86, 98, 99, 100. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-632" id="linknote-632"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -632 (<a href="#linknoteref-632">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 20 Avril, &c. to 20 Mai, 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-633" id="linknote-633"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -633 (<a href="#linknoteref-633">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, <i>Mémoires</i>, iv. c. 7-10. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-634" id="linknote-634"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -634 (<a href="#linknoteref-634">return</a>)<br/> -Genlis, iv. 139. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-635" id="linknote-635"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -635 (<a href="#linknoteref-635">return</a>)<br/> -Dumouriez, iv. 159, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-636" id="linknote-636"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -636 (<a href="#linknoteref-636">return</a>)<br/> -Their Narrative, written by Camus in Toulongeon, iii. app. 60-87. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-637" id="linknote-637"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -637 (<a href="#linknoteref-637">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires</i>, iv. 162-180. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-638" id="linknote-638"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -638 (<a href="#linknoteref-638">return</a>)<br/> -See Montgaillard, iv. 144. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-639" id="linknote-639"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -639 (<a href="#linknoteref-639">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Réné Levasseur</i> (Bruxelles, 1830), i. 164. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-640" id="linknote-640"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -640 (<a href="#linknoteref-640">return</a>)<br/> -Séance du 1er Avril, 1793 in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxv. 24-35. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-641" id="linknote-641"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -641 (<a href="#linknoteref-641">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> xv. 397. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-642" id="linknote-642"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -642 (<a href="#linknoteref-642">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 16 Avril 1793, et seqq. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-643" id="linknote-643"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -643 (<a href="#linknoteref-643">return</a>)<br/> -Séance du 26 Avril, An 1er (in <i>Moniteur</i>, No. 116). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-644" id="linknote-644"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -644 (<a href="#linknoteref-644">return</a>)<br/> -Levasseur, <i>Mémoires</i>, i. c. 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-645" id="linknote-645"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -645 (<a href="#linknoteref-645">return</a>)<br/> -Buzot, <i>Mémoires</i>, pp. 69, 84; Meillan, <i>Mémoires</i>, pp. 192, 195, -196. See <i>Commission des Douze</i> in <i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xii. 69-131. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-646" id="linknote-646"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -646 (<a href="#linknoteref-646">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, vii. 77-80; Forster, i. 514; Moore, i. 70. She did not die -till 1817; in the Salpêtrière, in the most abject state of insanity; see -Esquirol, <i>Des Maladies Mentales</i> (Paris, 1838), i. 445-50. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-647" id="linknote-647"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -647 (<a href="#linknoteref-647">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, vi. 63. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-648" id="linknote-648"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -648 (<a href="#linknoteref-648">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Histoire des Brissotins</i>, par Camille Desmoulins, a Pamphlet of -Camille’s, Paris, 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-649" id="linknote-649"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -649 (<a href="#linknoteref-649">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 25 Mai, 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-650" id="linknote-650"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -650 (<a href="#linknoteref-650">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, <i>Mémoires</i>, p. 195; Buzot, pp. 69, 84. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-651" id="linknote-651"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -651 (<a href="#linknoteref-651">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Debats de la Convention</i> (Paris, 1828), iv. 187-223; <i>Moniteur</i>, -Nos. 152, 3, 4, An 1er. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-652" id="linknote-652"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -652 (<a href="#linknoteref-652">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, <i>Mémoires</i>, p. 89. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-653" id="linknote-653"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -653 (<a href="#linknoteref-653">return</a>)<br/> -Buzot, <i>Mémoires</i>, p. 310. See <i>Pièces Justificatives</i>, of -Narratives, Commentaries, &c. in Buzot, Louvet, Meillan: <i>Documens -Complémentaires</i>, in <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxviii. 1-78. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-654" id="linknote-654"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -654 (<a href="#linknoteref-654">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, p. 72, 73; Louvet, p. 129. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-655" id="linknote-655"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -655 (<a href="#linknoteref-655">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Belagerung von Mainz</i>, Goethe’s <i>Werke</i>, xxx. 278-334. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-656" id="linknote-656"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -656 (<a href="#linknoteref-656">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, p.75; Louvet, p. 114. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-657" id="linknote-657"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -657 (<a href="#linknoteref-657">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Nos. 197, 198, 199; <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxviii. 301-5; <i>Deux -Amis</i>, x. 368-374. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-658" id="linknote-658"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -658 (<a href="#linknoteref-658">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Eloge funèbre de Jean-Paul Marat</i>, prononcé à Strasbourg in Barbaroux, p. 125-131; Mercier, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-659" id="linknote-659"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -659 (<a href="#linknoteref-659">return</a>)<br/> -Séance du 16 Septembre 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-660" id="linknote-660"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -660 (<a href="#linknoteref-660">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Procès de Charlotte Corday</i>, &c. <i>Hist. Parl.</i> xxviii. 311-338. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-661" id="linknote-661"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -661 (<a href="#linknoteref-661">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, x. 374-384. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-662" id="linknote-662"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -662 (<a href="#linknoteref-662">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Briefwechsel</i>, i. 508. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-663" id="linknote-663"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -663 (<a href="#linknoteref-663">return</a>)<br/> -See Hazlitt, ii. 529-41. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-664" id="linknote-664"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -664 (<a href="#linknoteref-664">return</a>)<br/> -Barbaroux, p. 29. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-665" id="linknote-665"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -665 (<a href="#linknoteref-665">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, x. 345. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-666" id="linknote-666"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -666 (<a href="#linknoteref-666">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Puisaye</i> (London, 1803), ii. 142-67. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-667" id="linknote-667"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -667 (<a href="#linknoteref-667">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, pp. 101-37; Meillan, pp. 81, 241-70. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-668" id="linknote-668"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -668 (<a href="#linknoteref-668">return</a>)<br/> -Meillan, pp. 119-137. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-669" id="linknote-669"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -669 (<a href="#linknoteref-669">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, pp. 138-164. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-670" id="linknote-670"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -670 (<a href="#linknoteref-670">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Belagerung von Maintz</i>, Goethe’s <i>Werke</i>, xxx. 315. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-671" id="linknote-671"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -671 (<a href="#linknoteref-671">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-672" id="linknote-672"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -672 (<a href="#linknoteref-672">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xii. 432-42. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-673" id="linknote-673"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -673 (<a href="#linknoteref-673">return</a>)<br/> - September 22nd of 1792 is Vendémiaire 1st of Year One, and the new months - are all of 30 days each; therefore: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - To the number of the We have the number of the - day in Add day in Days - - Vendémiaire 21 September 30 - Brumaire 21 October 31 - Frimaire 20 November 30 - - Nivose 20 December 31 - Pluviose 19 January 31 - Ventose 18 February 28 - - Germinal 20 March 31 - Floréal 19 April 30 - Prairial 19 May 31 - - Messidor 18 June 30 - Thermidor 18 July 31 - Fructidor 17 August 31 -</pre> - <p> - There are 5 Sansculottides, and in leap-year a sixth, to be added at the - end of Fructidor. Romme’s first Leap-year is ‘<i>An</i> 4’(1795, not 1796), - which is another troublesome circumstance, every fourth year, from “September - 23d” round to “February 29” again. - </p> - <p> - The New Calendar ceased on the 1st of January 1806. See <i>Choix des - Rapports</i>, xiii. 83-99; xix. 199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-674" id="linknote-674"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -674 (<a href="#linknoteref-674">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 147; xiii. 160-92, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-675" id="linknote-675"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -675 (<a href="#linknoteref-675">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 80-143. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-676" id="linknote-676"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -676 (<a href="#linknoteref-676">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, p. 180-199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-677" id="linknote-677"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -677 (<a href="#linknoteref-677">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 5 Septembre, 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-678" id="linknote-678"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -678 (<a href="#linknoteref-678">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats</i>, Séance du 23 Août 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-679" id="linknote-679"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -679 (<a href="#linknoteref-679">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 17 Septembre 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-680" id="linknote-680"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -680 (<a href="#linknoteref-680">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séances du 5, 9, 11 Septembre. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-681" id="linknote-681"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -681 (<a href="#linknoteref-681">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 148-188. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-682" id="linknote-682"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -682 (<a href="#linknoteref-682">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Mémoires particuliers de la Captivité à la Tour du Temple</i>, by the -Duchesse d’Angoulême, Paris, 21 Janvier 1817. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-683" id="linknote-683"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -683 (<a href="#linknoteref-683">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Procès de la Reine</i> (<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 251-381). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-684" id="linknote-684"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -684 (<a href="#linknoteref-684">return</a>)<br/> -Vilate, <i>Causes secrètes de la Révolution de Thermidor</i> (Paris, 1825), p. 179. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-685" id="linknote-685"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -685 (<a href="#linknoteref-685">return</a>)<br/> -Weber, i. 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-686" id="linknote-686"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -686 (<a href="#linknoteref-686">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 301. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-687" id="linknote-687"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -687 (<a href="#linknoteref-687">return</a>)<br/> -Δημοσθένους -εἰπόντος, -Ἀποκτενοῦδί -σε -Ἀθηναῖοι, -φωκίων˙ -Ἀν -μανῶσιν, -εῖτε -σὲ -δ’, -ἐὰν -σαφρονῶσι.—Plut. -<i>Opp</i>. t. iv. p. 310. ed. Reiske, 1776. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-688" id="linknote-688"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -688 (<a href="#linknoteref-688">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Riouffe</i> in <i>Mémoires sur les Prisons</i>, Paris, 1823, p. 48-55. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-689" id="linknote-689"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -689 (<a href="#linknoteref-689">return</a>)<br/> -Louvet, p. 213. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-690" id="linknote-690"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -690 (<a href="#linknoteref-690">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Recherches Historiques sur les Girondins</i> in <i>Mémoires de Buzot</i>, p. 107. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-691" id="linknote-691"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -691 (<a href="#linknoteref-691">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Hist. Parl.</i> Introd., i. 1 et seqq. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-692" id="linknote-692"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -692 (<a href="#linknoteref-692">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 78. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-693" id="linknote-693"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -693 (<a href="#linknoteref-693">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier. ii. 124. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-694" id="linknote-694"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -694 (<a href="#linknoteref-694">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> of these months, passim. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-695" id="linknote-695"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -695 (<a href="#linknoteref-695">return</a>)<br/> -Foster, ii. 628; Montgaillard, iv. 141-57. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-696" id="linknote-696"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -696 (<a href="#linknoteref-696">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires</i> (<i>Sur les Prisons</i>, i.), pp. 55-7. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-697" id="linknote-697"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -697 (<a href="#linknoteref-697">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Madame Roland</i> (Introd.), i. 68. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-698" id="linknote-698"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -698 (<a href="#linknoteref-698">return</a>)<br/> -Vie de Bailly in <i>Mémoires</i>, i., p. 29. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-699" id="linknote-699"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -699 (<a href="#linknoteref-699">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Mémoires de Madame Roland</i> (Introd.), i. 88. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-700" id="linknote-700"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -700 (<a href="#linknoteref-700">return</a>)<br/> -Foster, ii. 629. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-701" id="linknote-701"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -701 (<a href="#linknoteref-701">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, 11 Decembre, 30 Decembre, 1793; Louvet, p. 287. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-702" id="linknote-702"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -702 (<a href="#linknoteref-702">return</a>)<br/> -See Louvet, p. 301. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-703" id="linknote-703"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -703 (<a href="#linknoteref-703">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 249-51. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-704" id="linknote-794"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -704 (<a href="#linknoteref-704">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xi. 145. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-705" id="linknote-705"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -705 (<a href="#linknoteref-705">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i> (du 17 Novembre 1793), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-706" id="linknote-706"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -706 (<a href="#linknoteref-706">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 251-62. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-707" id="linknote-707"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -707 (<a href="#linknoteref-707">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, 1793, Nos. 101 (31 Decembre), 95, 96, 98, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-708" id="linknote-708"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -708 (<a href="#linknoteref-708">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 266-72; <i>Moniteur</i>, du 2 Janvier 1794. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-709" id="linknote-709"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -709 (<a href="#linknoteref-709">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Procès de Carrier</i>, 4 tomes, Paris, 1795. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-710" id="linknote-710"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -710 (<a href="#linknoteref-710">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Les Horreures des Prisons d’Arras</i>, Paris, 1823. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-711" id="linknote-711"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -711 (<a href="#linknoteref-711">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 200. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-712" id="linknote-712"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -712 (<a href="#linknoteref-712">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 17 Brumaire (7th November), 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-713" id="linknote-713"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -713 (<a href="#linknoteref-713">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Analyse du Moniteur</i> (Paris, 1801), ii. 280. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-714" id="linknote-714"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -714 (<a href="#linknoteref-714">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, iv. 134. See <i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 10 Novembre. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-715" id="linknote-715"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -715 (<a href="#linknoteref-715">return</a>)<br/> -See also <i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 26 Novembre. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-716" id="linknote-716"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -716 (<a href="#linknoteref-716">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, iv. 127-146. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-717" id="linknote-717"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -717 (<a href="#linknoteref-717">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 62-5. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-718" id="linknote-718"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -718 (<a href="#linknoteref-718">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Débats</i>, du 10 Novembre, 1723. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-719" id="linknote-719"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -719 (<a href="#linknoteref-719">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, i. 115. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-720" id="linknote-720"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -720 (<a href="#linknoteref-720">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 27 Novembre 1793. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-721" id="linknote-721"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -721 (<a href="#linknoteref-721">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xiii. 189. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-722" id="linknote-722"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -722 (<a href="#linknoteref-722">return</a>)<br/> -Ibid. xv. 360. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-723" id="linknote-723"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -723 (<a href="#linknoteref-723">return</a>)<br/> -There is, in <i>Prudhomme</i>, an atrocity <i>à la</i> Captain-Kirk reported of -this Cavaignac; which has been copied into Dictionaries of <i>Hommes -Marquans</i>, of <i>Biographie Universelle</i>, &c.; which not only has no -truth in it, but, much more singular, is still capable of being proved to have -none. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-724" id="linknote-724"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -724 (<a href="#linknoteref-724">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 205-30; Toulongeon, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-725" id="linknote-725"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -725 (<a href="#linknoteref-725">return</a>)<br/> -Levasseur, <i>Mémoires</i>, ii. c. 2-7. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-726" id="linknote-726"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -726 (<a href="#linknoteref-726">return</a>)<br/> -His narrative in <i>Deux Amis</i>, xiv. 177-86. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-727" id="linknote-727"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -727 (<a href="#linknoteref-727">return</a>)<br/> -Compare Barrère (<i>Chois des Rapports</i>, xiv. 416-21); Lord Howe (<i>Annual -Register</i> of 1794, p. 86), &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-728" id="linknote-728"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -728 (<a href="#linknoteref-728">return</a>)<br/> -Carlyle’s <i>Miscellanies</i>, § Sinking of the Vengeur. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-729" id="linknote-729"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -729 (<a href="#linknoteref-729">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Chois des Rapports</i>, xv. 378, 384. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-730" id="linknote-730"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -730 (<a href="#linknoteref-730">return</a>)<br/> -26th June, 1794, (see <i>Rapport de Guyton-Morveau sur les Aérostats</i>, in -<i>Moniteur</i> du 6 Vendémiaire, An 2). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-731" id="linknote-731"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -731 (<a href="#linknoteref-731">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, v. 25; <i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 142-199. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-732" id="linknote-732"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -732 (<a href="#linknoteref-732">return</a>)<br/> -See <i>Deux Amis</i>, xv. 189-192; <i>Mémoires de Genlis; Founders of the -French Republic</i>, &c. &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-733" id="linknote-733"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -733 (<a href="#linknoteref-733">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, ii. 134. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-734" id="linknote-734"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -734 (<a href="#linknoteref-734">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 290. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-735" id="linknote-735"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -735 (<a href="#linknoteref-735">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 17 Ventose (7th March) 1794. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-736" id="linknote-736"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -736 (<a href="#linknoteref-736">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Biographie de Ministres</i>, § Danton. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-737" id="linknote-737"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -737 (<a href="#linknoteref-737">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Aperçus sur Camille Desmoulins</i> in <i>Vieux Cordelier</i>, Paris, 1825, pp. 1-29. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-738" id="linknote-738"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -738 (<a href="#linknoteref-738">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 200. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-739" id="linknote-739"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -739 (<a href="#linknoteref-739">return</a>)<br/> -Duchesse d’Angoulême, <i>Captivité à la Tour du Temple</i>, pp. 37-71. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-740" id="linknote-740"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -740 (<a href="#linknoteref-740">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Tribunal Révolutionnaire</i>, du 8 Mai 1794, <i>Moniteur</i>, No. 231. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-741" id="linknote-741"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -741 (<a href="#linknoteref-741">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Tableaux de la Révolution</i>, § Soupers Fraternels; Mercier, ii. 150. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-742" id="linknote-742"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -742 (<a href="#linknoteref-742">return</a>)<br/> -Riouffe, p. 73; <i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 298-302. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-743" id="linknote-743"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -743 (<a href="#linknoteref-743">return</a>)<br/> -Vilate, <i>Causes Secrètes de la Révolution de</i> 9 <i>Thermidor</i>. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-744" id="linknote-744"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -744 (<a href="#linknoteref-744">return</a>)<br/> -See Vilate, <i>Causes Secrètes</i>. (Vilate’s Narrative is very curious; but is -not to be taken as true, without sifting; being, at bottom, in spite of its -title, not a Narrative but a Pleading). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-745" id="linknote-745"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -745 (<a href="#linknoteref-745">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 237. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-746" id="linknote-746"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -746 (<a href="#linknoteref-746">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Maison d’Arrêt de Port-Libre</i>, par Coittant, &c. <i>Mémoires sur les Prisons</i>, ii. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-747" id="linknote-747"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -747 (<a href="#linknoteref-747">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 218; Riouffe, p. 273. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-748" id="linknote-748"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -748 (<a href="#linknoteref-748">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Voyage de Cent Trente-deux Nantais</i>, (<i>Prisons</i>, ii. 288-335). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-749" id="linknote-749"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -749 (<a href="#linknoteref-749">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Relation de ce qu’ont souffert pour la Religion les Prêtres déportés en -1794, dans la rade de l’île d’Aix</i>, (<i>Prisons</i>, ii. 387-485). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-750" id="linknote-750"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -750 (<a href="#linknoteref-750">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 347-73. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-751" id="linknote-751"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -751 (<a href="#linknoteref-751">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xii. 350-8. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-752" id="linknote-752"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -752 (<a href="#linknoteref-752">return</a>)<br/> -See Vilate. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-753" id="linknote-753"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -753 (<a href="#linknoteref-753">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Nos. 311, 312; <i>Débats</i>, iv. 421-42; <i>Deux Amis</i>, -xii. 390-411. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-754" id="linknote-754"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -754 (<a href="#linknoteref-754">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Précis des Evénemens du Neuf Thermidor</i>, par C.A. Méda, ancien Gendarme, -Paris, 1825. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-755" id="linknote-755"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -755 (<a href="#linknoteref-755">return</a>)<br/> -Mémoires sur les Prisons, ii. 277. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-756" id="linknote-756"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -756 (<a href="#linknoteref-756">return</a>)<br/> -Méda. p. 384. (Méda asserts that it was he who, with infinite courage, though -in a lefthanded manner, shot Robespierre. Méda got promoted for his services of -this night; and died General and Baron. Few credited Méda (in what was -otherwise incredible). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-757" id="linknote-757"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -757 (<a href="#linknoteref-757">return</a>)<br/> -24th December 1794, <i>Moniteur</i>, No. 97. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-758" id="linknote-758"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -758 (<a href="#linknoteref-758">return</a>)<br/> -October 1795, Dulaure, viii. 454-6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-759" id="linknote-759"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -759 (<a href="#linknoteref-759">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 3-39. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-760" id="linknote-760"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -760 (<a href="#linknoteref-760">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, <i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iii. 138, 153. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-761" id="linknote-761"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -761 (<a href="#linknoteref-761">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 436-42. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-762" id="linknote-762"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -762 (<a href="#linknoteref-762">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, Mercier, (ubi supra). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-763" id="linknote-763"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -763 (<a href="#linknoteref-763">return</a>)<br/> -De Staël, <i>Considérations</i> iii. c. 10, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-764" id="linknote-764"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -764 (<a href="#linknoteref-764">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, iii. c. 7; v. c. 10, p. 194. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-765" id="linknote-765"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -765 (<a href="#linknoteref-765">return</a>)<br/> -19th January, 1795, Montgaillard, iv. 287-311. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-766" id="linknote-766"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -766 (<a href="#linknoteref-766">return</a>)<br/> -5th April, 1795, Montgaillard, iv. 319. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-767" id="linknote-767"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -767 (<a href="#linknoteref-767">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Histoire de la Guerre de la Vendée</i>, par M. le Comte de Vauban, -<i>Mémoires de Madame de la Rochejacquelin</i>, &c. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-768" id="linknote-768"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -768 (<a href="#linknoteref-768">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xiv. 94-106; Puisaye, <i>Mémoires</i>, iii-vii. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-769" id="linknote-769"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -769 (<a href="#linknoteref-769">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 25 Septembre 1794, du 4 Février 1795. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-770" id="linknote-770"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -770 (<a href="#linknoteref-770">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séances du 10-12 Novembre 1794: <i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 43-49. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-771" id="linknote-771"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -771 (<a href="#linknoteref-771">return</a>)<br/> -Mercier, ii. 94. (“1st February, 1796: at the Bourse of Paris, the gold louis,” -of 20 francs in silver, “costs 5,300 francs in assignats.” Montgaillard, iv. -419). -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-772" id="linknote-772"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -772 (<a href="#linknoteref-772">return</a>)<br/> -Fantin Desodoards, <i>Histoire de la Révolution</i>, vii. c. 4. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-773" id="linknote-773"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -773 (<a href="#linknoteref-773">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 13 Germinal (2d April) 1795. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-774" id="linknote-774"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -774 (<a href="#linknoteref-774">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 27 Juin, du 31 Août, 1795; <i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 121-9. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-775" id="linknote-775"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -775 (<a href="#linknoteref-775">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 129-46. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-776" id="linknote-776"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -776 (<a href="#linknoteref-776">return</a>)<br/> -Toulongeon, v. 297; <i>Moniteur</i>, Nos. 244, 5, 6. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-777" id="linknote-777"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -777 (<a href="#linknoteref-777">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Dictionnaire des Hommes Marquans</i>, §§ Billaud, Collot. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-778" id="linknote-778"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -778 (<a href="#linknoteref-778">return</a>)<br/> -Montgaillard, iv. 241. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-779" id="linknote-779"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -779 (<a href="#linknoteref-779">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Report of the Irish Poor-Law Commission</i>, 1836. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-780" id="linknote-780"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -780 (<a href="#linknoteref-780">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Nouveau Paris</i>, iv. 118. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-781" id="linknote-781"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -781 (<a href="#linknoteref-781">return</a>)<br/> -Napoleon, Las Cases, <i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xvii. 398-411. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-782" id="linknote-782"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -782 (<a href="#linknoteref-782">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Deux Amis</i>, xiii. 375-406. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-783" id="linknote-783"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -783 (<a href="#linknoteref-783">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, Séance du 5 Octobre 1795. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-784" id="linknote-784"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -784 (<a href="#linknoteref-784">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Moniteur</i>, du 4 Septembre 1797. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-785" id="linknote-785"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -785 (<a href="#linknoteref-785">return</a>)<br/> -9th November 1799, <i>Choix des Rapports</i>, xvii. 1-96. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-786" id="linknote-786"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -786 (<a href="#linknoteref-786">return</a>)<br/> -Bailleul, <i>Examen critique des Considérations de Madame de Staël</i>, ii. 275. -</p> -<p> -<a name="linknote-787" id="linknote-787"></a> -</p> -<p class="footnote"> -787 (<a href="#linknoteref-787">return</a>)<br/> -<i>Diamond Necklace</i>, (Carlyle’s <i>Miscellanies</i>). -</p> - -</div><!--end chapter--> - -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH REVOLUTION ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 1301-h.htm or 1301-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/1301/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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