Chapter VII

THE INFLUENCE OF THE WAR UPON THE REVOLUTION.

It is a mistake to imagine that the European Powers attacked the Revolution in France. It was the Revolution which attacked them. The diplomatists of the eighteenth century viewed at first with cynical indifference the meeting of the States-General at Versailles. They were naturally blind to its significance. It did not occur to them, until some years had passed, that the outbreak in France was anything more than a temporary political disturbance, which by weakening a redoubtable rival, would redound to the advantage of the other Powers. The new cosmopolitan spirit, the new idea of enthusiasm for humanity, which, together with the influence of Rousseau, were beginning to be deeply felt in Europe, did not affect the diplomatic mind. Many a sharp lesson was needed to convince the cabinets of Europe that events in France were not the result of any ordinary political commotion, but part of a movement as far-reaching as it was profound, abstract in its aims and maxims, universal in its scope, irresistible in its advance, and inspired by the propagandist enthusiasm which in earlier ages had produced the great Crusades and the religious wars.

Accordingly, the attitude of the European Powers was at first one of complacent egotism. They viewed the disorders in France with the suave but moderate concern which nations, if not men, display towards the misfortunes of their friends. Moreover, in 1789, most of the Powers were occupied with matters of far greater urgency at home. On the throne of Russia sat the most brilliant sovereign of the age, the sovereign to whom Diderot attributed the 'soul of Brutus' and 'the form of Cleopatra,' steeped in all the vices with which the imagination of her enemies credited Theodora, excelling in all the accomplishments with which the enthusiasm of her subjects clothed Elizabeth, unsurpassed in ambition and ability, equally unwearied in war and diplomacy, in literature and love, a singularly sagacious ruler, an extraordinary woman and a most successful queen. By the side of Catherine there reigned in the North another able and attractive prince, Gustavus III of Sweden, who combined with restless vanity and philosophic maxims a real capacity for government and the spirit of 'a Saladin in quest of a crusade.' In Austria, the Emperor Joseph, the madcap crowned philosopher of Europe, had thrown his dominions into confusion by his reforms, and threatened to convulse the East with his ambition. In Prussia, Frederick William II, with his fine aspirations and his fantastic failings, permitted favourites and charlatans to help him in maintaining the great traditions of his predecessor. In Spain, the declining Bourbon dynasty vainly looked to France to save it from losing its once proud position in the world. In England, Pitt, at the height of his power, was ready to offer France an alliance which she was too suspicious to accept from Chatham's son, and while anxiously watching the troubles in Turkey, and successfully asserting his influence in Holland, fixed his hopes on the wide humanitarian projects which he saw opening out before him, to which his genius and his inclination called him, and which he hoped to consummate in peace.

The two points which occupied the attention of Europe in 1789 were the condition of Poland and the troubles in the East. The ambitious designs of Catherine and the assistance lent to them by Joseph threatened the existence of the Turkish Empire, irritated the Prussian Court, and awakened English apprehensions, always sensitive about the safety of Stamboul. Poland, the battle-field of cynical diplomacy, torn by long dissensions and ruined by a miserable constitution, was vainly endeavouring, under the jealous eyes of her great neighbours, to avert the doom impending, and to reassert her ancient claim to a place among the nations of the world. But Russia had long since determined that Poland must be a vassal State to her or cease to be a State at all, while Prussia, driven to face a hard necessity, realised that a strong Poland and a strong Prussia could not exist together, and that if Poland ever rose again to power, Prussia must bid good-bye to unity and greatness. These two questions to the States involved seemed to be of far more moment than any political reform in France, and engrossed the diplomatists of Europe until the summer of 1791.

In February, 1790, a new influence was introduced into European politics by the death of the Emperor Joseph and the accession of his brother, Leopold II. Leopold was a man of remarkable ability, no enthusiast and no dreamer, thoroughly versed in the selfish traditions of Austrian policy and in some of the subtleties of Italian statecraft, discerning, temperate, resolute and clear-headed, quietly determined to have his own way, and generally skilful enough to secure it. Leopold found his new dominions in a state of the utmost confusion, with war and rebellion threatening him on every side. He speedily set about restoring order. He repealed the unpopular decrees of Joseph. He conciliated or repressed his discontented subjects. He gradually re-established the authority of the Crown. He had no sympathy with Joseph's Eastern schemes, and he dreaded the advance of Russia. He was resolved that Prussia should no longer assume the right to intervene decisively in European politics, but should return to her old position as a dependent ally of Austria. He hoped by steady and persistent diplomacy to secure a reform of the Polish constitution, and to build up in Poland once again a State in close alliance with himself, strong enough to hold in check Russia and Prussia alike. He was not blind to the gravity of the events happening in France, and his sympathy for his sister's misfortunes was sincere. But he saw more clearly than most men the very great difficulties involved in any intervention in French affairs, and although he showed his feelings and was ready to discuss proposals for bringing the influence of the Powers to bear upon French politics, he was far from wishing to commit himself to any irremediable breach with France.

Accordingly, the first eighteen months of Leopold's reign were occupied with his own immediate interests, and at the end of that time his success was marked. Catherine's vast schemes in Turkey had been checked. War had been averted. Poland had been strengthened by internal changes. Prussia had been conciliated and out-manœuvred, and her influence had been impaired. At last, at the end of August, 1791, the Emperor was free to face the French problem, and he set out for the Castle of Pillnitz to meet the King of Prussia and the Emigrant leaders at the Saxon Elector's Court.

For some time past the restlessness of the French Emigrants had been causing great perplexity in Europe. Received with open arms by the ecclesiastical princes of the Rhine, by the Electors of Mayence and Trèves, they proceeded to agitate busily for their own restoration. They brought with them into banishment all the worst characteristics of their class. They treated their hosts with cool impertinence, indulged in the most complacent forecasts, and exhibited that profound contempt for anything except their own advantage, which had made them so justly detested in France. In the view of the Emigrants their cause was the cause of feudal Europe. Just as the revolutionists regarded all nobles as enemies, so the Emigrants regarded all princes and aristocrats as companions in arms. Deeply and serenely selfish, they would hear of nothing but their own reinstatement in the full privileges of the Ancien Régime; and all compromise with constitutional freedom, all moderation in counsel or in language, all respect for the wishes of the King was treated with disdain. Rarely has any class of men displayed in a more conspicuous manner its lack of patriotism, sagacity and temper, and its utter indifference to any interest but its own.

The object of the Emigrants was to bring pressure to bear at the European Courts, with the view of inducing the Powers to intervene actively in their behalf. The Comte d'Artois and his Prime Minister, Calonne, flitted from capital to capital, to plead the cause of the oppressed aristocracy of France. At Vienna they exposed themselves to unmistakable rebuffs, but in other quarters they met with kinder treatment. Prussia assured them of her sympathy, but regretted that she could take no action without the Emperor's concurrence. Sardinia and Spain were friendly, and talked frequently of war. Catherine of Russia, who cordially hated the doctrines of the Revolution, but who under-rated the importance of a movement which was too far off to touch her people, exchanged delightful compliments with the descendants of Henri Quatre, and protested her enthusiasm for their cause. But the prudent Empress showed no inclination to risk the life of a single Cossack in propping up the Bourbon throne. Gustavus of Sweden, appearing at Aix-la-Chapelle, enlisted with ardour in the Emigrants' service. He proposed to transport a joint army of Swedes and Russians to the coast of Normandy, and marching up the Seine to Paris, to assert the rights of kings. But when Gustavus applied to Catherine to assist him in carrying out his crusade, he discovered, to his bitter disappointment, that no assistance was to be obtained.

Nevertheless the lofty tone of the French princes did not alter. After his escape from France, in June, 1790, the Comte de Provence established his Court at Coblentz, where he was joined by his brother the Comte d'Artois, and where, on the plea that Louis was a prisoner, he claimed the title of Regent, and assumed the authority of King. The Court of the two French princes at Coblentz represented faithfully the faults and follies of the Emigrant party. But a more satisfactory spectacle was offered by the camp at Worms, where Condé was bravely trying to organise an army to fight against the Revolution in France. To Condé's standard flocked the more patriotic Emigrants, who disliked the idea of foreign intervention and hoped to recover their position for themselves. Condé had no difficulty in finding officers, but privates and troopers were more difficult to raise. Nevertheless he persevered in his enterprise, and gradually collected a considerable force[8]. In the winter of 1791-92, a plot for the capture of Strasbourg was discovered, which greatly alarmed the French Assembly. But the German Princes in the neighbourhood looked with disfavour on the Emigrant army. It caused confusion in their dominions, and it drew down on them the hostility of the French Government. The Emperor joined them in protesting against it. In February, 1792, Condé's army was compelled to abandon its camp at Worms, and to retire further into Germany.

The Emperor was well aware of the reckless selfishness of the Emigrant princes. He had as little sympathy with them as his sister. He did not intend to listen to their demands. If he interfered in France at all, it would only be in a cautious and tentative manner, and in order to save Marie Antoinette and her husband. Certainly he would not undertake a war for the restoration of the Ancien Régime. The real inclinations of Leopold, with which Marie Antoinette generally concurred, pointed towards the summoning of a European Conference, to bring pressure to bear on the French Government, to strengthen the hands of the moderate parties in Paris, and to prevent any outrage on the King and Queen. Accordingly, the interviews at Pillnitz came to nothing. The Emperor and the King of Prussia did indeed enter into a treaty, binding them in certain events to make war together upon France. But the conditions of that alliance, which involved the joint action of all the European Powers, and in particular the co-operation of England which was known to be opposed to any form of intervention, rendered the treaty an empty form. Leopold himself assured his Chancellor that the Conference of Pillnitz had bound him to nothing, and the whole proceeding has been rightly described as one of the 'august comedies' of history. As time went on, the Emperor's determination to avoid war deepened. When, in September 1791, Louis accepted the new Constitution, Leopold took advantage of that event to make his position unmistakably clear. On the 1st November, he addressed a circular letter to the Powers, pointing out to them that Louis' action rendered any further interference impossible, and in spite of the angry protests of the Emigrants, the danger of war seemed to have disappeared.

Such was the attitude of Europe when the Legislative Assembly met. Numerically, the majority of the new Assembly were favourable to the Constitution, and honestly wished to maintain the throne. Outside the House they were supported by Lafayette and Barnave, two strong, representative figures, although Lafayette could not be depended on to act consistently with any colleagues. But in the House they had no leaders of great influence, and no sense of party discipline. Their policy was negative and undecided, and they could not always be relied on to vote together. Opposite to them there sat, on the left of the Assembly, a body of deputies less strong in numbers, but far more able and united, full of eloquence and enthusiasm, eager, brilliant, reckless and impetuous, with a clear policy and bold, ambitious views. It consisted of men who despised the Constitution as an unsatisfactory makeshift, who had no reverence for the throne, who wished for no compromise with the old order, but who, conceiving themselves inspired with the spirit of the heroes of Greece and Rome, were resolved to sweep away kings and tyrants, to undertake a crusade in the name of liberty, and to establish triumphantly their republican ideal in France. To this body the Jacobin deputies attached themselves, because for the present their aims were the same. But the greater part of it was composed of men who, though in temporary alliance with the Jacobins and ardent recruits of the Jacobin Club, were soon destined to become their rivals, and who are distinguished as the Girondist party, because their chief leaders came from the department of the Gironde.

The Republican minority in the Legislative Assembly, supported by the Jacobins and directed by the Girondist leaders, easily out-manœuvred their Constitutional opponents. Their object was to discredit the Monarchy and so to prepare the way for a Republic. From the first, the Girondists were strong partisans of war, partly because their reckless patriotism wished to make all 'tyrants tremble on their thrones of clay,' but also because they had a just conviction that a policy of war would play into their hands, would render the king's position desperate, and would promote confusion in which they would win. Vergniaud, Guadet, Gensonné and others clothed the Girondist sentiments in language which, if sometimes bombastic, was sometimes superb. A House full of inexperienced theorists, all impulsive and nearly all young, echoed the fine enthusiasm which the Girondist orators expressed. Brissot, a journalist of many strange experiences, but with a very shallow knowledge of affairs, took the lead of the advanced party, and guided their views upon diplomatic questions. Madame Roland appealed to their emotions with generous rhetoric and hospitality. Sieyès, moving mysteriously in the background, and pulling the strings of innumerable intrigues, drew up their plans and assisted at their counsels. Under these circumstances the Girondist minority, with its vigour, its ambition, and its somewhat unscrupulous designs, seized the control of events, and committed the halting, uncertain majority to measures from which they could not afterwards retreat.

The autumn and winter of 1791-92 were occupied by schemes and counter-schemes of every kind. The whole atmosphere was charged with intrigue. The records of each week were full of evidences of disorder, to which those in power seemed to pay little heed. The condition of Europe was already alarming, and the Girondists, in search of their 'second and greater Revolution,' resolved to turn it to account. The Assembly knew nothing of diplomacy, nothing of Leopold's peaceful views, nothing of the Queen's reluctance to face the risks of war. They saw the sovereigns of Europe combining together. They saw the Emigrants gathering outside the frontier, and the majority of the old priesthood stirring up discontent within. They believed, or the Republicans among them believed, that the King was urging on the Powers to war, and that the Queen presided over a secret 'Austrian Committee,' which, meeting in the Tuileries, conspired against the liberties of France. Accordingly, they proceeded to denounce these dangers and to demand energetic measures against them. In October and November, decrees were passed, calling on Monsieur and the Emigrants to return, commanding the refractory priests to accept the Constitution, and imposing heavy penalties for disobedience. The decree directed against his own brother Louis confirmed, but the other two decrees he vetoed; and of course the application of the veto still further increased his unpopularity in Paris.

As the winter went on, the gravity of the situation deepened. Bailly retired from the mayoralty of Paris, and Pétion, the nominee of the Republican party, was elected in his place over the head of Lafayette, by a large majority on a very small poll. Montmorin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, resigned, and was succeeded by De Lessart, a man of indifferent capacity, much under the influence of Barnave and the Lameths. Other ministerial changes followed. Bertrand de Molleville, a strong supporter of the Crown, was appointed Minister of Marine; and early in December, Narbonne, a brilliant young man of fashion and ability, lifted into power by the aid of Lafayette and by the intrigues of Madame de Staël, became for a short time Minister of War. But these changes did nothing to strengthen the Government. While De Lessart and the Lameths dreaded war, and hoped that the Powers would exert some pressure in favour of the moderate party in France, Narbonne threw himself heartily into the military preparations. He believed that war would strengthen the Crown, and he determined to make a bid for popular favour on the King's behalf by identifying Louis with the patriotic feeling. Meanwhile Lafayette, with characteristic indiscretion, blind to the warnings of the wiser Constitutional leaders, possessed by his favourite idea of carrying American freedom over Europe, and tempted perhaps by the great prospect which war would open to his own ambition, supported Narbonne in his warlike designs, and steadily encouraged the war-party in the Assembly.

To the surprise of the Girondists, the Jacobin leaders took a totally different line. Fearing that the declaration of war would increase the power of the Government and would strengthen the hands of the hated Lafayette, the Jacobins began to sever themselves from the Gironde, and to oppose the idea of a campaign. No doubt, their opposition was partly due to the fact that on principle many of them were averse to war, although in the days of the Jacobin triumph, this principle, like others, was to be cast to the winds. But in so far as their opposition was due to tactical and party reasons, it shows a strange lack of political discernment, for of all parties then existing the Jacobins were the most certain to profit by the outbreak of hostilities. Brissot and the Girondists saw this clearly, and vainly endeavoured to convince their allies. From that time forward the rivalry between Robespierre and Brissot became bitter and acute. But the Jacobin politicians allowed their fear of the Executive to carry them away. Anything which made rulers powerful must, they thought, be dangerous to freedom. Danton, Robespierre, Marat and Billaud-Varennes, all adopted the same language, and the Jacobin Club protested loudly against the demand for war.

But the Girondists carried the day. Lafayette's manœuvres, their own enthusiasm, and the militant temper of the nation, all helped their designs. Narbonne's schemes indeed collapsed, and early in March, 1792, he was dismissed from a Ministry with most of which he disagreed. But the war-party revenged Narbonne's dismissal by driving his colleagues from office. Louis, yielding to the storm, and endeavouring once again, as he had sometimes endeavoured before, to identify himself with the Assembly, selected a new Ministry from the popular party. Roland was appointed Minister of the Interior, and Dumouriez took the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. Dumouriez, who owed his appointment to the Girondists, for whom, nevertheless, he had a rich contempt, was the only person of note in the Government, but he possessed ability enough to compensate for all the deficiencies of his colleagues. Lax in morality and principle, he was a man of infinite resource, bold, ambitious and consummately adroit. He welcomed the idea of a conflict with Austria. He hoped, as Narbonne had done, to secure the neutrality or alliance of England, and, if possible, the friendship of Prussia, but he was prepared to take the chances of a struggle with the rest of Europe. The appointment of the new Ministry gave the Girondists the command of the political situation, and from that moment France drifted rapidly into war.

Events abroad made a rupture easy. In spite of the provocations offered to him by the French Assembly, Leopold had clung steadily to peace. His sagacity saw that the one chance for the Monarchy in France lay in the desire of the Constitutional party to re-establish order. He was determined to strengthen their hands, if he could, and for that purpose to limit the interference of the Powers to joint diplomatic pressure in their behalf. But early in March, 1792, Leopold suddenly died. His heir Francis, unrestrained by his father's tact and moderation, assumed a different tone and showed less patience. The chances of any effective pressure from the Powers declined, as the prospect of war rose on the horizon. Francis' language was sufficiently sharp to give the Assembly the pretext which it longed for, and on the 20th April, Louis, amid general enthusiasm, came down to the Assembly and declared war against Austria. The effects of that momentous step no comment can exaggerate. It ruined the best hopes of the Revolution, and prepared the way for a military despotism in the future. All who hesitated, all who felt that mistakes had been committed but who still hoped that they might be repaired, all who believed that the Revolution might yet vindicate itself by combining liberty with order, saw themselves forced to choose, no longer between order and disorder, but between the old system and the new, between the ancient Monarchy and freedom, between the cause of their country and the cause of the invaders. Had there been no war with Europe, the astonishing episode of the Jacobin triumph, the worst excesses of the later Revolution, and all the crimes and glories of the Terror, could never have taken place in France.

It should be clearly understood that, even after the declaration of war, the friends of the Monarchy, who wished the Revolution to pause, were in a great majority both in Paris and in France. But they were disorganised and often lukewarm, divided into numberless different groups, jealous and distrustful of one another, largely governed by personal motives, with no clear policy before them, incapable of acting loyally together, and without the ability to act wisely, even if they could unite. Barnave and the Lameths distrusted Lafayette. Lafayette distrusted Dumouriez. The stronger royalists distrusted Barnave. The King distrusted all alike. On the other side was a smaller but more active party, full of enthusiasm and audacity, not, it is true, without enmities and divisions of its own, but still better organised than its opponents, prepared to embark on a policy of danger, and to hope that the future would turn to its account. In that situation of affairs the war broke out, and its effects were soon apparent. It rendered Louis' dethronement almost certain. It drew a sharp line between those who were on the side of France and of the Revolution, and those who were on the side of the Emigrants and invaders, a line which placed the King upon one side and the vast majority of his subjects on the other. It rallied all patriots to the party which undertook the national defence. It made the Jacobins, whom the enemy denounced, the heroes of the popular resistance. It forced into helpless inaction all those who wanted order and a king, but who could not lift voice or hand for Louis, if by doing so they weakened the unity of France. It rendered possible, though it did not necessitate, the Terror, for it converted all opponents of the Revolution into traitors. It led at once to national peril, and through peril to panic and confusion. In the confusion the elements of disorder, already rife in France and taught impunity by the experience of the past two years, rose uncontrolled in insurrection, and patriotism became identified with crime.

The movement of events was rapid. At the end of April, the campaign opened with an attempted invasion of Belgium. But the French troops were disorganised; their commanders were timid and incapable; two French divisions were shamefully defeated, and the general of one was murdered by his men. 'You marched out like madmen,' wrote Dumouriez bitterly, 'and you returned like fools.' The bad news from the front intensified the excitement in Paris. Another Ministerial crisis resulted in the appointment of Servan, a stern Republican, as Minister of War. The attacks upon the Queen redoubled. The lawlessness of the politicians of the streets increased. The Girondists, determined to weaken the Monarchy, abolished the King's constitutional guard, voted the banishment of all refractory priests, and decreed that a camp of twenty thousand men from the departments should be formed in the immediate neighbourhood of the capital. Since the winter, the Parisian mobs had been armed with pikes; and it seems that the Girondists, knowing that the influence of the Jacobin leaders with the populace of Paris was greater than their own, desired to have at hand a strong force of ardent revolutionists, distinct from the Parisians, on whom they could rely. The King, however, disliking these proposals, and wearied by the studied rudeness of his Ministers, refused to sanction the formation of the camp and the persecution of the refractory priests. Then Madame Roland, in her husband's name, attacked him in a foolish and impertinent letter, and Louis, roused to unusual irritation, dismissed his Girondist advisers on the 12th June. For a moment Dumouriez remained at the head of affairs; but finding that he could not induce Louis to accept his views, he too resigned a few days later, and accepted a command in the army. Lafayette took advantage of the occasion to make a violent attack upon Dumouriez, thus converting into an enemy a man whom he might have found an invaluable ally. Louis fell back on a new Ministry of personal friends of Lafayette, and the General wrote to the Assembly denouncing and threatening the Jacobin party. Thereupon the mob forces of Paris, equally alarmed by the dismissal of the Girondists and by the tone of Lafayette, broke into insurrection and invaded the Tuileries on the 20th June.

The insurrection of the 20th June, which had been for some time preparing, was not the work of the Republican leaders. The Girondists held aloof, and Danton and Robespierre discouraged the proposal. It was entirely the action of the subalterns of the party, led by Santerre. Almost to the last, the responsible men held back. Even on the 10th August, the Girondist leaders, who had been working for months to upset the throne, hesitated, when the victory was within their grasp. They had grown afraid of their Jacobin allies, while the Jacobins knew the smallness of their own forces, and still feared the strength of their opponents. The abortive riot of the 20th of June was followed by a brief reaction in the King's favour. Lafayette came up to Paris, denounced the rioters at the bar of the Assembly, proposed to shut the Jacobin club, and offered to carry the King out of Paris. The National Guards and the Parisian bourgeois, shocked by the insult offered to the Sovereign, showed themselves ready to rally round Lafayette. One of the new ministers, Terrier de Monciel, was a man of considerable energy and insight. He urged the King to place himself in the hands of the Constitutional party, and with their help to escape from Paris and appeal to France. But Louis, even in his desperate situation, could not be prevailed on to act cordially with Lafayette. He preferred to trust to the chapter of accidents and to wait for the Allies to deliver him. The General's offers were coldly received. The favourable moment was allowed to pass. Lafayette, naturally offended, and always incapable of decisive action, returned humiliated to his army. Monciel's schemes were rejected, and, early in July, he and his colleagues resigned. The Court had deliberately thrown away its last chance of safety.

All through the month of July the agitation in Paris increased. On the 11th, the National Assembly declared that the country was in danger, and issued a stirring appeal for volunteers. The Republicans began to rally again, and the arrival of the Fédérés from the departments, to celebrate the festival of the fall of the Bastille, although partly checked by the vigorous action of Monciel, supplied them with the force which they required. The troops of the line remaining in the capital were ordered to the front. The leaders of the insurrection of the 20th June, acting with the Fédérés from the provinces, and encouraged this time by the Jacobin leaders, set to work to organise a rising in the revolutionary Sections of Paris. The denunciations of the King and of Lafayette, and the intimidation of the deputies in the streets redoubled. The reactionary party heightened the excitement by prophesying the speedy vengeance of the invaders. The allied forces at last began to show signs of activity, and at the end of July, the Duke of Brunswick, their commander-in-chief, issued a manifesto to the French people.

The idea of a manifesto had originated with Louis himself. Before the end of May, acting on the advice of Malouet and Montmorin, he had sent Mallet du Pan with a confidential message to the Allied Sovereigns at Frankfort. In this communication he entreated the Powers to adhere to Leopold's policy, to make it plain that their object was not to dismember France or to restore the proscribed classes, but only to set the King free, so that he might suppress the Jacobins, and readjust the Constitution in the interests of order and liberty combined. Louis' objects were not unworthy, but the policy by which he sought to achieve them was hopelessly unsound. Even had the Allies taken his advice, no arguments could have made the invasion palatable to Frenchmen. And, once war was declared, there was little chance that his advice would be heeded. Since the outbreak of hostilities the influence of the Emigrants had increased abroad. They paid no attention to the warnings of Louis. They indignantly discarded the moderate language suggested to them by Mallet du Pan, and imparted their own spirit to the Duke of Brunswick's manifesto. The result was that the manifesto, with its violent and irrational menaces, caused the wildest indignation in France, roused the whole people to protest against it, and immediately facilitated the deposition of the King.

At last, early in August, the crisis came. The manifesto of the Allies, the arrival of a body of zealous Republican Fédérés from Marseilles, and the final breach between the King and the Gironde, precipitated the insurrection. The municipal authorities distributed cartridges freely in the Faubourg St. Antoine, while they refused ammunition to the National Guard. The insurrectionary leaders in the Sections completed their organisation, and arranged matters with the officials of the Commune. It is curious to notice that, almost at the end, the Girondists, frightened by the success of the Jacobins, tried to avert a rising and to compromise with the King. Had Louis been willing to replace them in office and to accept their terms unreservedly, it seems almost certain that they would at the last moment have broken with the Jacobins, and, in spite of their vaunted republicanism, have ranged themselves on the King's side. But Louis would listen to no overtures, and so they left him to his fate. It is also curious to notice how small--even at this time of keen excitement and revolutionary triumph--the insurrectionary battalions were, how few voters supported them in the Sections, how the heads of the party trembled for the result, and how difficult they found it to raise an adequate and imposing force. Had the defenders of the Tuileries had a leader to inspire them, had Louis for once laid sentiment aside and displayed a flash of determined courage, the rising might have been defeated and the mob dispersed. Napoleon, who watched the whole scene from a window, and who afterwards declared in St. Helena that the spectacle in the Tuileries gardens at nightfall was more horrible than any of his battle-fields, believed that, had Louis used his opportunities, he might easily have won the day. But the irresolution, which had been his ruin, dogged the King's footsteps to the last, and the 10th August ended in the capture of the Tuileries and the destruction of the throne.

The six weeks which followed the victorious insurrection were weeks of intense excitement in Paris. The two sections of Republicans divided the spoil. Roland and his colleagues returned to office, and Danton was appointed Minister of Justice. For the moment Danton became the most conspicuous man in France. The young lawyer had thrown himself into the revolutionary movement with characteristic intrepidity and ardour. Reckless, cynical, unscrupulous as he was, Danton bore the stamp of greatness. He was a king fit for the turbulent, ambitious spirits, whom Robespierre was too timid a theorist, and Marat too gloomy a fanatic to inspire. His physical vigour, his stentorian voice, his eloquent fancy, his fierce contempt for little men and little measures, the rough but genuine kindliness of his nature, and his real enthusiasm for his country and for freedom, appealed irresistibly to the imagination of his followers. Wherever he had appeared, whether at the Cordeliers Club, in the early days of the Revolution, or, later, among the officials of the Department of the Seine, or, later still, in the Commune of Paris, he had made a profound impression, and after the 10th August he naturally took the lead. Unquestionably Danton had grave faults. He had too few principles or scruples, little elevation of character, no refinement of mind. But yet there is a certain air of grandeur round him. His patriotism and courage cannot be doubted. His insight and capacity for statesmanship stand in marked contrast to the incapacity of his associates. No man learned more or more quickly from experience. And of his surpassing force and influence there are a hundred proofs.

In preparing the insurrection of the 10th August Danton had taken a prominent part. He was rewarded by a high post in the Government, and his action during the crisis which ensued is characteristic of the man. He threw himself, heart and soul, into the national defence. He felt that the one pressing necessity was to hold Paris against the invaders. He knew that his party were a small minority, and that Paris and France alike were full of men who would be ready enough to turn against them and to compromise with the Allies. If France were to be saved and the Revolution vindicated, he believed that violent measures might be needed, and those violent measures he was prepared to face. 'We must make,' he cried, 'the Royalists afraid.' All the Jacobin leaders agreed in this. They saw that their only chance of safety lay in paralysing their enemies by terror. But some of them naturally hesitated as to the means. As the days went on, the danger increased. On the 20th August, Lafayette, after a vain attempt to induce his army to march on Paris, fled across the frontier. The Allies rapidly advanced. On the 23rd August, Longwy, one of the great frontier fortresses, surrendered with ignominious haste. On the 2nd September, Verdun surrendered too, and the road to Paris lay open to the invaders.

In that time of terrible excitement, Danton and his colleagues carried all before them. A special tribunal to try traitors was established on Robespierre's demand. The property of the Emigrants was confiscated. The refractory priests were condemned to transportation. Urgent measures were taken to raise troops, and all citizens, whether active or passive, were admitted to the National Guard. Under the auspices of the Insurrectionary Commune, houses were searched, arms seized, and suspected persons thrown into prison. While the tocsin in the city sounded, Danton roused the spirit of the Assembly. 'The alarm bell you hear rings no signal of danger. It sounds the charge against the enemies of your country. To conquer them, you must dare and dare and dare again, till France be saved.' The Insurrectionary Commune, which still wielded the powers which it had usurped on the 10th August, assumed dictatorial authority, overawed the Ministers and the Assembly, and translated Danton's warning into action. A frenzy of panic swept over Paris, and the answer to the shameful surrender of Verdun was the famous massacre in the prisons in September.

The exact responsibility for the massacre it is not easy to fix. Its immediate cause was unquestionably the panic into which Paris was thrown by the advance of the Allies. The terror of the moment produced a civil war between those who felt that they were fighting for their lives, and those who were supposed to be the friends of the invaders. In that war the more desperate conquered, and the weaker party fell. No doubt, the conquest was achieved by the aid of ruffians. A crisis of extreme peril, when rumour is busy and suspicion rife, brings to the surface many elements of disorder. The Ancien Régime had left in Paris ample material for crime. It had taught the poor to be ignorant and brutal. It had created a class of men to whom pity and prosperity were equally unknown. Historians have long disputed whether the Insurrectionary Commune was responsible, or whether the movement was spontaneous. No doubt, the leaders of the Commune, Panis, Sergent, Hébert, Billaud-Varennes, and their guide and coadjutor Marat, gave it at least encouragement and approval. It was Marat's policy triumphing at last. But the truth is, Paris must share the responsibility, for during those days of bloodshed, although the number of murderers was very small, no one interfered. The Legislative Assembly looked on, no doubt with grave compunction, but for all effective purposes with indifference. The volunteers, the National Guards, the great body of Parisian citizens stood by, apathetic or cowed. Robespierre may have found it difficult to reconcile the massacre with his sentimental love of virtue; but, though he was then a member of the Commune, he did nothing to arrest its course. He could always persuade himself in the last resort that murder was the justice of the people. Danton, with sterner logic and audacity, believed it to be necessary to paralyse the Royalists, and deliberately declined to interfere. Some of the Girondists were horrified, and made honest attempts to check the bloodshed, but attempts of an ineffectual kind. Others of the Girondists seem to have regarded it as inevitable, if the Republic were to be secured. Roland afterwards weakly tried to palliate it. Pétion offered the murderers refreshment. The fact is that the Girondist leaders were themselves exposed to the suspicious hostility of the Commune, and were powerless or disinclined to act[9].

The outbreak in Paris was followed by similar outbreaks elsewhere. But the sequel of the massacre showed the Jacobin leaders in a better light. Under the guidance of Danton, a new spirit was infused into the Government. Thousands of recruits poured into the French camp, and the Assembly appointed to the chief command a soldier of genius in the person of Dumouriez. The rapid success of the invaders had been largely delusive. The fall of the French fortresses was due less to the prowess of the enemy than to treachery among the defenders. The Allied Powers were by no means at one upon all points. Their generals and counsellors had neither brilliancy nor dash. The Duke of Brunswick was already weary of the campaign. Distinguished as he was, he belonged to an old school of soldiers, and he had never wished to march direct on Paris, leaving his communications unprotected. He had little sympathy with the Emigrants. He was in bad health and half-hearted in the war. The Austrians had not supported him as strongly as they had promised to do. His troops had suffered severely from illness and bad weather. Even after the fall of Verdun, he was disinclined to persevere. Accordingly, when Dumouriez gathered his forces at Valmy, and risking an engagement on the 20th September, succeeding in checking the enemy's advance, the Duke took the opportunity to retire, the campaign was abandoned, and Paris was saved.

From Valmy the tide of victory rolled on. Dumouriez followed up his success by the battle of Jemappes and the conquest of Belgium. But in the spring of 1793, fortune turned against him, and Dumouriez, like Lafayette, threw up his post and fled. Once again, in the summer of 1793, the Allies threatened to advance on Paris. Once again the fear of invasion strengthened the hands of the Terrorist party. Once again a new general was discovered, and the vigour of the Jacobins carried the day. Once again the young Republic triumphed, and after the winter of 1793 all danger from the frontiers disappeared. The war assumed a new character. It became a war of propaganda, and swept over Europe. It found upon its borders an ancient society, already in a state of dissolution, which, devoid of patriotism, enthusiasm or popularity, fell to pieces before its attack. Then, forgetting its philanthropic principles, it returned to the practices of the past, and in its dealings with Europe, adopted the spirit of the system which it assailed. In the end, the French Revolutionary war did not abolish tyrants or unite the human race. It obliterated many old landmarks. It broke down many feudal barriers. It swept many little despotisms away. It drew more sharply the divisions between the different nations. It rallied them more closely round their sovereigns. It cleared the ground for modern Europe to grow up. Unconsciously, and cruelly, it laid the foundations of that united German Empire, which was one day to take a terrible revenge on France. But the old order, thus improved and altered, was too strong to die. Ultimately it subdued its conquerors, and the hero of the victorious Revolution married the niece of Marie Antoinette.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 8: Some contemporary writers estimate the numbers of Condé's army very low, at not more than 3000 or 4000. M. Sorel, who is always a valuable authority, reckons them at 10,000 in October, 1791. Mr. Morse Stephens gives a much higher figure.]

[Footnote 9: It cannot be proved decisively that the Insurrectionary Commune organised or paid for the massacre, but several facts seem to point in that direction. The subject is fully discussed in M. Mortimer-Ternaux's _Histoire de la Terreur_, vol. iii. Appendix XVIII, and by M. Louis Blanc, in the note to the second chapter of the eighth book of his history.]