Chapter V: Part 5

A hundred years later Cornells Jansen, Bishop of Ypres, revived these questions. Arnauld supported him. The views had authority from Augustine and Chrysostom, but Arnauld was condemned. The two establishments of Port Royal refused to sign the formularies condemning Jansen's book, and they had on their side the brilliant pen of Pascal. On the other were the Jesuits. Pascal, in the "Lettres Provinciales," made the Jesuits ridiculous with his incomparable wit. The Jansenists were persecuted, but the persecution strengthened them. But full of absurdities as the whole controversy was to an intelligent observer, the crown, the bishops, and the Jesuits were too strong for the Jansenists, especially when Le Tellier became the king's confessor. But the affair was not finally brought to a conclusion, and the opposing parties reconciled, till after the death of Louis. Ultimately, Jansenism became merely ridiculous. The fall of the Jesuits was to follow in due time.

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DE TOCQUEVILLE

The Old Régime

Born at Paris on July 29, 1805, Alexis Henri Charles Clérel de
Tocqueville came of an old Norman family which had
distinguished itself both in law and in arms. Educated for the
Bar, he proceeded to America in 1831 to study the penitentiary
system. Four years later he published "De la Démocratie en
Amérique" (see Miscellaneous Literature), a work which created
an enormous sensation throughout Europe. De Tocqueville came
to England, where he married a Miss Mottley. He became a
member of the French Academy; was appointed to the Chamber of
Deputies, took an important part in public life, and in 1849
became vice-president of the Assembly, and Minister of Foreign
Affairs. His next work, "L'Ancien Régime" ("The Old Régime"),
translated under the title "On the State of Society in France
before the Revolution of 1789; and on the Causes which Led to
that Event," appeared in 1856. It is of the highest
importance, because it was the starting point of the true
conception of the Revolution. In it was first shown that the
centralisation of modern France was not the product of the
Revolution, but of the old monarchy, that the irritation
against the nobility was due, not to their power, but to their
lack of power, and that the movement was effected by masses
already in possession of property. De Tocqueville died at
Cannes on April 16, 1859.

_I.---The Last Days of Feudal Institutions_

The French people made, in 1789, the greatest effort which was ever attempted by any nation to cut, so to speak, their destiny in halves, and to separate by an abyss that which they had heretofore been from that which they sought to become hereafter.

The municipal institutions, which in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries had raised the chief towns of Germany into rich and enlightened small republics, still existed in the eighteenth; but they were a mere semblance of the past.

All the powers of the Middle Ages which were still in existence seemed to be affected by the same disease; all showed symptoms of the same languor and decay.

Wherever the provincial assemblies had maintained their ancient constitution unchanged, they checked instead of furthering the progress of civilisation.

Royalty no longer had anything in common with the royalty of the Middle Ages; it enjoyed other prerogatives, occupied a different place, was imbued with a different spirit, and inspired different sentiments; the administration of the state spread in all directions upon the ruin of local authorities; the organised array of public officers superseded more and more the government of the nobles.

This view of the state of things, which prevailed throughout Europe as well as within the boundaries of France, is essential to the comprehension of what is about to follow, for no one who has seen and studied France only can ever, I affirm, understand anything of the French Revolution.

What was the real object of the revolution? What was its peculiar character? For what precise reason was it made, and what did it effect? The revolution was not made, as some have supposed, in order to destroy the authority of religious belief. In spite of appearances, it was essentially a social and political revolution; and within the circle of social and political institutions it did not tend to perpetuate and give stability to disorder, or--as one of its chief adversaries has said--to methodise anarchy.

However radical the revolution may have been, its innovations were, in fact, much less than have been commonly supposed, as I shall show hereafter. What may truly be said is that it entirely destroyed, or is still destroying--for it is not at an end--every part of the ancient state of society that owed its origin to aristocratic and feudal institutions.

But why, we may ask, did this revolution, which was imminent throughout Europe, break out in France rather than elsewhere? And why did it display certain characteristics which have appeared nowhere else, or, at least, have appeared only in part?

One circumstance excites at first sight surprise. The revolution, whose peculiar object it was, as we have seen, everywhere to abolish the remnant of the institutions of the Middle Ages, did not break out in the countries in which these institutions, still in better preservation, caused the people most to feel their constraint and their rigour, but, on the contrary, in the countries where their effects were least felt; so that the burden seemed most intolerable where it was in reality least heavy.

In no part of Germany, for instance, at the close of the eighteenth century, was serfdom as yet completely abolished. Nothing of the kind had existed in France for a long period of time. The peasant came, and went, and bought and sold, and dealt and laboured as he pleased. The last traces of serfdom could only be detected in one or two of the eastern provinces annexed to France by conquest; everywhere else the institution had disappeared. The French peasant had not only ceased to be a serf; he had become an owner of land.

It has long been believed that the subdivision of landed property in France dates from the revolution of 1789, and was only the result of that revolution. The contrary is demonstrable by all the evidence.

The number of landed proprietors at that time amounted to one-half, frequently to two-thirds, of their present number. Now, all these small landowners were, in reality, ill at ease in the cultivation of their property, and had to bear many charges, or easements, on the land which they could not shake off.

Although what is termed in France the old régime is still very near to us, few persons can now give an accurate answer to the question--How were the rural districts of France administered before 1789?

In the eighteenth century all the affairs of the parish were managed by a certain number of parochial officers, who were no longer the agents of the manor or domain, and whom the lord no longer selected. Some of these persons were nominated by the intendant of the province, others were elected by the peasants themselves. The duty of these authorities was to assess the taxes, to repair the church, to build schools, to convoke and preside over the vestry or parochial meeting. They attended to the property of the parish, and determined the application of it; they sued, and were sued, in its name. Not only the lord of the domain no longer conducted the administration of the small local affairs, but he did not even superintend it. All the parish officers were under the government or control of the central power, as we shall show in a subsequent chapter. Nay, more; the seigneur had almost ceased to act as the representative of the crown in the parish, or as the channel of communication between the king and his subjects.

If we quit the parish, and examine the constitution of the larger rural districts, we shall find the same state of things. Nowhere did the nobles conduct public business either in their collective or their individual capacity. This was peculiar to France.

Of all the peculiar rights of the French nobility, the political element had disappeared; the pecuniary element alone remained, in some instances largely increased.

_II.---A Shadow of Democracy_

Picture to yourself a French peasant of the eighteenth century. Take him as he is described in the documents--so passionately enamoured of the soil that he will spend all his savings to purchase it, and to purchase it at any price. To complete his purchase he must first pay a tax, not to the government, but to other landowners of the neighbourhood, as unconnected as himself with the administration of public affairs, and hardly more influential than he is. He possesses it at last; his heart is buried in it with the seeds he sows. This little nook of ground, which is his own in this vast universe, fills him with pride and independence. But again these neighbours call him from his furrow, and compel him to come to work for them without wages. He tries to defend his young crops from their game; again they prevent him. As he crosses the river they wait for his passage to levy a toll. He finds them at the market, where they sell him the right of selling his own produce; and when, on his return home, he wants to use the remainder of his wheat for his own sustenance--of that wheat which was planted by his own hands, and has grown under his eyes--he cannot touch it till he has ground it at the mill and baked it at the bakehouse of these same men. A portion of his little property is paid away in quit-rents to them also, and these dues can neither be extinguished nor redeemed.

The lord, when deprived of his former power, considered himself liberated from his former obligations; and no local authority, no council, no provincial or parochial association had taken his place. No single being was any longer compelled by law to take care of the poor in the rural districts, and the central government had boldly undertaken to provide for their wants by its own resources.

Every year the king's council assigned to each province certain funds derived from the general produce of the taxes, which the intendant distributed.

Sometimes the king's council insisted upon compelling individuals to prosper, whether they would or no. The ordinances constraining artisans to use certain methods and manufacture certain articles are innumerable; and, as the intendants had not time to superintend the application of all these regulations, there were inspectors general of manufactures, who visited in the provinces to insist on their fulfilment.

So completely had the government already changed its duty as a sovereign into that of a guardian.

In France municipal freedom outlived the feudal system. Long after the landlords were no longer the rulers of the country districts, the towns still retained the right of self-government.

In most instances the government of the towns was vested in two assemblies. All the great towns were thus governed, and some of the small ones. The first of these assemblies was composed of municipal officers, more of less numerous according to the place. These municipal officers never received any stipend, but they were remunerated by exemptions from taxation and by privileges.

The second assembly, which was termed the general assembly, elected the corporation, wherever it was still subject to election, and always continued to take a part in the principal concerns of the town.

If we turn from the towns to the villages, we meet with different powers and different forms of government.

In the eighteenth century the number and the name of the parochial officers varied in the different provinces of France. In most of the parishes they were, in the eighteenth century, reduced to two persons--the one named the "collector," the other most commonly named the "syndic." Generally, these parochial officers were either elected, or supposed to be so; but they had everywhere become the instruments of the state rather than the representatives of the community. The collector levied the _taille_, or common tax, under the direct orders of the intendant. The syndic, placed under the daily direction of the sub-delegate of the intendant, represented that personage in all matters relating to public order or affecting the government. He became the principal agent of the government in relation to military service, to the public works of the state, and to the execution of the general laws of the kingdom.

Down to the revolution the rural parishes of France had preserved in their government something of that democratic aspect which they had acquired in the Middle Ages. The democratic assembly of the parish could express its desires, but it had no more power to execute its will than the corporate bodies in the towns. It could not speak until its mouth had been opened, for the meeting could not be held without the express permission of the intendant, and, to use the expression of those times, which adapted language to the fact, "_under his good pleasure_."

_III.--The Ruin of the Nobility_

If we carefully examine the state of society in France before the revolution, we may see that in each province men of various classes, those, at least, who were placed above the common people grew to resemble each other more and more, in spite of differences of rank.

Time, which had perpetuated, and, in many respects, aggravated the privileges interposed between two classes of men, had powerfully contributed to render them alike in all other respects.

For several centuries the French nobility had grown gradually poorer and poorer. "Spite of its privileges, the nobility is ruined and wasted day by day, and the middle classes get possession of the large fortunes," wrote a nobleman in a melancholy strain in 1755-Yet the laws by which the estates of the nobility were protected still remained the same, nothing appeared to be changed in their economical condition. Nevertheless, the more they lost their power the poorer they everywhere became in exactly the same proportion.

The non-noble classes alone seemed to inherit all the wealth which the nobility had lost; they fattened, as is were, upon its substance. Yet there were no laws to prevent the middle class from ruining themselves, or to assist them in acquiring riches; nevertheless, they incessantly increased their wealth--in many instances they had become as rich, and often richer, than the nobles. Nay, more, their wealth was of the same kind, for, though dwelling in the towns, they were often country landowners, and sometimes they even bought seignorial estates.

Let us now look at the other side of the picture, and we shall see that these same Frenchmen, who had so many points of resemblance among themselves, were, nevertheless, more completely isolated from each other than perhaps the inhabitants of any other country, or than had ever been the case before in France.

The fact is, that as by degrees the general liberties of the country were finally destroyed, involving the local liberties in their ruin, the burgess and the noble ceased to come into contact with public life.

The system of creating new nobles, far from lessening the hatred of the _roturier_ to the nobleman, increased it beyond measure; it was envenomed by all the envy with which the new noble was looked upon by his former equals. For this reason the _tiers état,_ in all their complaints, always displayed more irritation against the newly ennobled than against the old nobility.

In the eighteenth century the French peasantry could no longer be preyed upon by petty feudal despots. They were seldom the object of violence on the part of the government; they enjoyed civil liberty, and were owners of a portion of the soil. But all the other classes of society stood aloof from this class, and perhaps in no other part of the world had the peasantry ever lived so entirely alone. The effects of this novel and singular kind of oppression deserve a very attentive consideration.

This state of things did not exist in an equal degree among any other of the civilised nations of Europe, and even in France it was comparatively recent. The peasantry of the fourteenth century were at once oppressed and more relieved. The aristocracy sometimes tyrannised over them, but never forsook them.

In the eighteenth century a French village was a community of persons, all of whom were poor, ignorant, and coarse; its magistrates were as rude and as contemned as the people; its syndic could not read; its collector could not record in his own handwriting the accounts on which the income of his neighbour and himself depended.

Not only had the former lord of the manor lost the right of governing this community, but he had brought himself to consider it a sort of degradation to take any part in the government of it. The central power of the state alone took any care of the matter, and as that power was very remote, and had as yet nothing to fear from the inhabitants of the villages, the only care it took of them was to extract revenue.

A further burden was added. The roads began to be repaired by forced labour only--that is to say, exclusively at the expense of the peasantry. This expedient for making roads without paying for them was thought so ingenious that in 1737 a circular of the Comptroller-General Orry established it throughout France.

Nothing can better demonstrate the melancholy fate of the rural population; the progress of society, which enriches all the other classes, drives them to despair, and civilisation itself turns against that class alone.

The system of forced labour, by becoming a royal right, was gradually extended to almost all public works. In 1719 I find it was employed to build barracks. "Parishes are to send their best workmen," said the ordinance, "and all other works are to give way to this." The same forced service was used to escort convicts to the galleys and beggars to the workhouse; it had to cart the baggage of troops as often as they changed their quarters--a burthen which was very onerous at a time when each regiment carried heavy baggage after it. Many carts and oxen had to be collected for the purpose.

_IV.--Reform and Destruction Inevitable_

One further factor, and that the most important, remains to be noted: the universal discredit into which every form of religious belief had fallen, at the end of the eighteenth century, and which exercised without any doubt the greatest influence upon the whole of the French Revolution; it stamped its character.

Irreligion had produced an enormous public evil. The religious laws having been abolished at the same time that the civil laws were overthrown, the minds of men were entirely upset; they no longer knew either to what to cling or where to stop. And thus arose a hitherto unknown species of revolutionists, who carried their boldness to a pitch of madness, who were surprised by no novelty and arrested by no scruple, and who never hesitated to put any design whatever into execution. Nor must it be supposed that these new beings have been the isolated and ephemeral creation of a moment, and destined to pass away as that moment passed. They have since formed a race of beings which has perpetuated itself, and spread into all the civilised parts of the world, everywhere preserving the same physiognomy, the same character.

From the moment when the forces I have described, and the added loss of religion, matured, I believe that this radical revolution, which was to confound in common ruin all that was worst and all that was best in the institutions and condition of France, became inevitable. A people so ill-prepared to act for themselves could not undertake a universal and simultaneous reform without a universal destruction.

One last element must be remembered before we conclude. As the common people of France had not appeared for one single moment on the theatre of public affairs for upwards of 140 years, no one any longer imagined that they could ever again resume their position. They appeared unconscious, and were therefore believed to be deaf. Accordingly, those who began to take an interest in their condition talked about them in their presence just as if they had not been there. It seemed as if these remarks could only be heard by those who were placed above the common people, and that the only danger to be apprehended was that they might not be fully understood by the upper classes.

The very men who had most to fear from the fury of the people declaimed loudly in their presence on the cruel injustice under which the people had always suffered. They pointed out to each other the monstrous vices of those institutions which had weighed most heavily upon the lower orders; they employed all their powers of rhetoric in depicting the miseries of the people and their ill-paid labour; and thus they infuriated while they endeavoured to relieve them.

Such was the attitude of the French nation on the eve of the revolution, but when I consider this nation in itself it strikes me as more extraordinary than any event in its own annals. Was there ever any nation on the face of the earth so full of contrasts and so extreme in all its actions; more swayed by sensations, less by principles; led therefore always to do either worse or better than was expected of it, sometimes below the common level of humanity, sometimes greatly above it--a people so unalterable in its leading instincts that its likeness may still be recognised in descriptions written two or three thousand years ago, but at the same time so mutable in its daily thoughts and in its tastes as to become a spectacle and an amazement to itself, and to be as much surprised as the rest of the world at the sight of what it has done--a people beyond all others the child of home and the slave of habit, when left to itself; but when once torn against its will from the native hearth and from its daily pursuits, ready to go to the end of the world and to dare all things.

Such a nation could alone give birth to a revolution so sudden, so radical, so impetuous in its course, and yet so full of reactions, of contradictory incidents and of contrary examples. Without the reasons I have related the French would never have made the revolution; but it must be confessed that all these reasons united would not have sufficed to account for such a revolution anywhere else but in France.

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FRANÇOIS MIGNET

History of the French Revolution

François Auguste Alexis Mignet was born at Aix, in Provence,
on May 8, 1796, and began life at the Bar. It soon became
apparent that his true vocation was history, and in 1818 he
left his native town for Paris, where he became attached to
the "Courier Français," in the meantime delivering with
considerable success a series of lectures on modern history at
the Athénée. Mignet may be said to be the first great
specialist to devote himself to the study of particular
periods of French history. His "History of the French
Revolution, from 1789 to 1814," published in 1824, is a
strikingly sane and lucid arrangement of facts that came into
his hands in chaotic masses. Eminently concise, exact, and
clear, it is the first complete account by one other than an
actor in the great drama. Mignet was elected to the French
Academy in 1836, and afterwards published a series of masterly
studies dealing with the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
among which are "Antonio Perez and Philip II.," and "The
History of Mary, Queen of Scots," and also biographies of
Franklin and Charles V. He died on March 24, 1884.

_I.--The Last Resort of the Throne_

I am about to take a rapid review of the history of the French Revolution, which began the era of new societies in Europe, as the English revolution had begun the era of new governments.

Louis XVI. ascended the throne on May 11, 1774. Finances, whose deficiencies neither the restorative ministry of Cardinal de Fleury, nor the bankrupt ministry of the Abbé Terray had been able to make good, authority disregarded, an imperious public opinion; such were the difficulties which the new reign inherited from its predecessors. And in choosing, on his accession to the throne, Maurepas as prime minister, Louis XVI. eminently contributed to the irresolute character of his reign. On the death of Maurepas the queen took his place with Louis XVI., and inherited all his influence over him. Maurepas, mistrusting court ministers, had always chosen popular ministers; it is true he did not support them; but if good was not brought about, at least evil did not increase. After his death, court ministers succeeded the popular ministers, and by their faults rendered the crisis inevitable which others had endeavoured to prevent by their reforms. This difference of choice is very remarkable; this it was which, by the change of men, brought on the change of the system of administration. _The revolution dates front this epoch;_ the abandonment of reforms and the return of disorders hastened its approach and augmented its fury.

After the failure of the queen's minister the States-General had become the only means of government, and the last resources of the throne. The king, on August 8, 1788, fixed the opening for May 1, 1789. Necker, the popular minister of finance, was recalled, and prepared everything for the election of deputies and the holding of the States.

A religious ceremony preceded their installation. The king, his family, his ministers, the deputies of the three orders, went in procession from the Church of Nôtre Dame to that of St. Louis, to hear the opening mass.

The royal sitting took place the following day in the Salle des Menus. Galleries, arranged in the form of an amphitheatre, were filled with spectators. The deputies were summoned, and introduced according to the order established in 1614. The clergy were conducted to the right, the nobility to the left, and the commons in front of the throne at the end of the hall. The deputations from Dauphiné, from Crépy-en-Valois, to which the Duke of Orleans belonged, and from Provence, were received with loud applause. Necker was also received on his entrance with general enthusiasm.

Barentin, keeper of the seals, spoke next after the king. His speech displayed little knowledge of the wishes of the nation, or it sought openly to combat them. The dissatisfied assembly looked to M. Necker, from whom it expected different language.

The court, so far from wishing to organise the States-General, sought to annul them. No efforts were spared to keep the nobility and clergy separate from and in opposition to the commons; but on May 6, the day after the opening of the States, the nobility and clergy repaired to their respective chambers, and constituted themselves. The Third Estate being, on account of its double representation, the most numerous order, had the Hall of the States allotted to it, and there awaited the two other orders; it considered its situation as provisional, its members as presumptive deputies, and adopted a system of inactivity till the other orders should unite with it. Then a memorable struggle began, the issue of which was to decide whether the revolution should be effected or stopped.

The commons, having finished the verification of their own powers of membership on June 17, on the motion of Sieyès, constituted themselves the National Assembly, and refused to recognise the other two orders till they submitted, and changed the assembly of the States into an assembly of the people.

It was decided that the king should go in state to the Assembly, annul its decrees, command the separation of the orders as constitutive of the monarchy, and himself fix the reforms to be effected by the States-General. It was feared that the majority of the clergy would recognise the Assembly by uniting with it; and to prevent so decided a step, instead of hastening the royal sittings, they and the government closed the Hall of the States, in order to suspend the Assembly till the day of that royal session.

At an appointed hour on June 20 the president of the commons repaired to the Hall of the States, and finding an armed force in possession, he protested against this act of despotism. In the meantime the deputies arrived, and dissatisfaction increased. The most indignant proposed going to Marly and holding the Assembly under the windows of the king; one named the Tennis Court; this proposition was well received, and the deputies repaired thither in procession.

Bailly was at their head; the people followed them with enthusiasm, even soldiers volunteered to escort them, and there, in a bare hall, the deputies of the commons, standing with upraised hands, and hearts full of their sacred mission, swore, with only one exception, not to separate till they had given France a constitution.

By these two failures the court prefaced the famous sitting of June 23.

At length it took place. A numerous guard surrounded the hall of the States-General, the door of which was opened to the deputies, but closed to the public. After a scene of authority, ill-suited to the occasion, and at variance with his heart, Louis XVI. withdrew, having commanded the deputies to disperse. The clergy and nobility obeyed. The deputies of the people, motionless, silent, and indignant, remained seated.

The grand-master of the ceremonies, finding the Assembly did not break up, came and reminded them of the king's order.

"Go and tell your master," cried Mirabeau, "that we, are here at the command of the people, and nothing but the bayonet shall drive us hence."

"You are to-day," added Sieyès calmly, "what you were yesterday. Let us deliberate."

The Assembly, full of resolution and dignity, began the debate accordingly.

On that day the royal authority was lost. The initiative in law and moral power passed from the monarch to the Assembly. Those who, by their counsels, had provoked this resistance did not dare to punish it Necker, whose dismissal had been decided on that morning, was, in the evening, entreated by the queen and Louis XVI. to remain in office.

_II.---"À la Bastille!"_

The court might still have repaired its errors, and caused its attacks to be forgotten. But the advisers of Louis XVI., when they recovered from the first surprise of defeat, resolved to have recourse to the use of the bayonet after they had failed in that of authority.

The troops arrived in great numbers; Versailles assumed the aspect of a camp; the Hall of the States was surrounded by guards, and the citizens refused admission. Paris was also encompassed by various bodies of the army ready to besiege or blockade it, as the occasion might require; when the court, having established troops at Versailles, Sèvres, the Champ de Mars, and St. Denis, thought it able to execute its project. It began on July 11, by the banishment of Necker, who received while at dinner a note from the king enjoining him to leave the country immediately.

On the following day, Sunday, July 12, about four in the afternoon, Necker's disgrace and departure became known in Paris. More than ten thousand persons flocked to the Palais Royal. They took busts of Necker and the Duke of Orleans, a report also having gone abroad that the latter would be exiled, and covering them with crape, carried them in triumph. A detachment of the Royal Allemand came up and attempted to disperse the mob; but the multitude, continuing its course, reached the Place Louis XV. Here they were assailed by the dragoons of the Prince de Lambese. After resisting a few moments they were thrown into confusion; the bearer of one of the busts and a soldier of one of the French guards were killed.

During the evening the people had repaired to the Hôtel de Ville, and requested that the tocsin might be sounded. Some electors assembled at the Hôtel de Ville, and took the authority into their own hands. The nights of July 12 and 13 were spent in tumult and alarm.

On July 13 the insurrection took in Paris a more regular character. The provost of the merchants announced the immediate arrival of twelve thousand guns from the manufactory of Charleville, which would soon be followed by thirty thousand more.

The next day, July 14, the people that had been unable to obtain arms on the preceding day came early in the morning to solicit some from the committee, hurried in a mass to the Hôtel des Invalides, which contained a considerable depot of arms, found 28,000 guns concealed in the cellars, seized them, took all the sabres, swords, and cannon, and carried them off in triumph; while the cannon were placed at the entrance of the Faubourgs, at the palace of the Tuileries, on the quays and on the bridges, for the defence of the capital against the invasion of troops, which was expected every moment.

From nine in the morning till two the only rallying word throughout Paris was "À la Bastille! A la Bastille!" The citizens hastened thither in bands from all quarters, armed with guns, pikes, and sabres. The crowd which already surrounded it was considerable; the sentinels of the fortress were at their posts, and the drawbridges raised as in war. The populace advanced to cut the chains of the bridge. The garrison dispersed them with a charge of musketry. They returned, however, to the attack, and for several hours their efforts were confined to the bridge, the approach to which was defended by a ceaseless fire from the fortress.

The siege had lasted more than four hours when the French guards arrived with cannon. Their arrival changed the appearance of the combat. The garrison itself begged the governor to yield.

The gates were opened, the bridge lowered, and the crowd rushed into the Bastille.

_III.--"Bread! Bread!"_

The multitude which was enrolled on July 14 was not yet, in the following autumn, disbanded. And the people, who were in want of bread, wished for the king to reside at Paris, in the hope that his presence would diminish or put a stop to the dearth of provisions. On the pretext of protecting itself against the movements in Paris, the court summoned troops to Versailles, doubled the household guards, and sent in September (1789) for the dragoons and the Flanders regiment.

The officers of the Flanders regiment, received with anxiety in the town of Versailles, were fêted at the château, and even admitted to the queen's card tables. Endeavours were made to secure their devotion, and on October 1, a banquet was given to them by the king's guards. The king was announced. He entered attired in a hunting dress, the queen leaning on his arm and carrying the dauphin. Shouts of affection and devotion arose on every side. The health of the royal family was drunk with swords drawn, and when Louis XVI. withdrew the music played "O Richard! O mon roi! L'univers t'abandonne." The scene now assumed a very significant character; the march of the Hullans and the profusion of wine deprived the guests of all reserve. The charge was sounded; tottering guests climbed the boxes as if mounting to an assault; white cockades were distributed; the tri-colour cockade, it is said, was trampled on.

The news of this banquet produced the greatest sensation in Paris. On the 4th suppressed rumours announced an insurrection; the multitude already looked towards Versailles. On the 5th the insurrection broke out in a violent and invincible manner; the entire want of flour was the signal. A young girl, entering a guardhouse, seized a drum and rushed through the streets beating it and crying, "Bread! Bread!" She was soon surrounded by a crowd of women. This mob advanced towards the Hôtel de Ville, increasing as it went. It forced the guard that stood at the door, and penetrated into the interior, clamouring for bread and arms; it broke open doors, seized weapons, and marched towards Versailles. The people soon rose _en masse_, uttering the same demand, till the cry "To Versailles!" rose on every side. The women started first, headed by Maillard, one of the volunteers of the Bastille. The populace, the National Guard, and the French guards requested to follow them.

During this tumult the court was in consternation; the flight of the king was suggested, and carriages prepared. But, in the meantime, the rain, fatigue, and the inaction of the household troops lessened the fury of the multitude, and Lafayette arrived at the head of the Parisian army.

His presence restored security to the court, and the replies of the king to the deputation from Paris satisfied the multitude and the army.

About six next morning, however, some men of the lower class, more enthusiastic than the rest, and awake sooner than they, prowled round the château. Finding a gate open, they informed their companions, and entered.

Lafayette, apprised of the invasion of the royal residence, mounted his horse and rode hastily to the scene of danger. On the square he met some of the household troops surrounded by an infuriated mob, who were on the point of killing them. He threw himself among them, called some French guards who were near, and having rescued the household troops and dispersed their assailant, he hurried to the château. But the scene was not over. The crowd assembled again in the marble court under the king's balcony, loudly called for him, and he appeared. They required his departure for Paris. He promised to repair thither with his family, and this promise was received with general applause. The queen was resolved to accompany him, but the prejudice against her was so strong that the journey was not without danger. It was necessary to reconcile her with the multitude. Lafayette proposed to her to accompany him to the balcony. After some hesitation, she consented. They appeared on it together, and to communicate by a sign with the tumultuous crowd, to conquer its animosity and to awaken its enthusiasm, Lafayette respectfully kissed the queen's hand. The crowd responded with acclamations.

Thus terminated the scene; the royal family set out for Paris, escorted by the army, and its guards mixed with it.

The autumn of 1789 and the whole of the year 1790 were passed in the debate and promulgation of rapid and drastic reforms, by which the Parliament within eighteen months reduced the monarchy to little more than a form. Mirabeau, the most popular member, and in a sense the leader of the Parliament, secretly agreed with the court to save the monarchy from destruction; but on his sudden death, on April 2, 1791, the king and queen, in terror at their situation, determined to fly from Paris. The plan, which was matured during May and June, was to reach the frontier fortress of Montmédy by way of Chalons, and to take refuge with the army on the frontier.

The royal family made every preparation for departure; very few persons were informed of it, and no measures betrayed it. Louis XVI. and the queen, on the contrary, pursued a line of conduct calculated to silence suspicion, and on the night of June 20 they issued at the appointed hour from the château, one by one, in disguise, and took the road to Chalons and Montmédy.

The success of the first day's journey, the increasing distance from Paris, rendered the king less reserved and more confident. He had the imprudence to show himself, was recognised, and arrested at Varennes on the 21st.

The king was provisionally suspended--a guard set over him, as over the queen--and commissioners were appointed to question him.

_IV.--Europe Declares War on the Revolution_

While this was passing in the Assembly and in Paris, the emigrants, whom the flight of Louis XVI. had elated with hope, were thrown into consternation at his arrest. Monsieur, who had fled at the same time as his brother, and with better fortune, arrived alone at Brussels with the powers and title of regent. The emigrants thenceforth relied only on the assistance of Europe; the officers quitted their colours; 290 members of the Assembly protested against its decrees; in order to legitimatise invasion, Bouillé wrote a threatening letter, in the inconceivable hope of intimidating the Assembly, and at the same time to take up himself the sole responsibility of the flight of Louis XVI.; finally the emperor, the King of Prussia, and the Count d'Artois met at Pilnitz, where they made the famous declaration of August 27, 1791, preparatory to the invasion of France.

On April 20, 1792, Louis XVI. went to the Assembly, attended by all his ministers. In that sitting war was almost unanimously decided upon. Thus was undertaken against the chief of confederate powers that war which was protracted throughout a quarter of a century, which victoriously established the revolution, and which changed the whole face of Europe.

On July 28, when the allied army of the invaders began to move from Coblentz, the Duke of Brunswick, its commander-in-chief, published a manifesto in the name of the emperor and the King of Prussia. He declared that the allied sovereigns were advancing to put an end to anarchy in France, to arrest the attacks made on the altar and the throne. He said that the inhabitants of towns _who dared to stand on the defensive_ should instantly be punished as rebels, with the rigour of war, and their houses demolished or burned; and that if the Tuileries were attacked or insulted, the princes would deliver Paris over to military execution and total subversion.

This fiery and impolitic manifesto more than anything else hastened the fall of the throne, and prevented the success of the coalition.

The insurgents fixed the attack on the Tuileries for the morning of August 10. The vanguard of the Faubourgs, composed of Marseillese and Breton Federates, had already arrived by the Rue Saint Honoré, stationed themselves in battle array on the Carrousel, and turned their cannon against the Tuileries, when Louis XVI. left his chamber with his family, ministers, and the members of the department, and announced to the persons assembled for the defence of the palace that he was going to the National Assembly. All motives for resistance ceased with the king's departure. The means of defence had also been diminished by the departure of the National Guards who escorted the king. The Swiss discharged a murderous fire on the assailants, who were dispersed. The Place du Carrousel was cleared. But the Marseillese and Bretons soon returned with renewed force; the Swiss were fired on by the cannon, and surrounded; and the crowd perpetrated in the palace all the excesses of victory.

Royalty had already fallen, and thus on August 10 began the dictatorial and arbitrary epoch of the revolution.

During three days, from September 2, the prisoners confined in the Carmes, the Abbaye, the Conciergerie, the Force, etc., were slaughtered by a band of about three hundred assassins. On the 20th, the in itself almost insignificant success of Valmy, by checking the invasion, produced on our troops and upon opinion in France the effect of the most complete victory.

On the same day the new Parliament, the Convention, began its deliberations. In its first sitting it abolished royalty, and proclaimed the republic. And already Robespierre, who played so terrible a part in our revolution, was beginning to take a prominent position in the debates.

The discussion on the trial of Louis XVI. began on November 13. The Assembly unanimously decided, on January 20, 1793, that Louis was guilty; when the appeal was put to the question, 284 voices voted for, 424 against it; 10 declined voting. Then came the terrible question as to the nature of the punishment. Paris was in a state of the greatest excitement; deputies were threatened at the very door of the Assembly. There were 721 voters. The actual majority was 361. The death of the king was decided by a majority of 26 votes.

He was executed at half-past ten in the morning of January 21, and his death was the signal for an almost universal war.

This time all the frontiers of France were to be attacked by the European powers.

The cabinet of St. James, on learning the death of Louis XVI., dismissed the Ambassador Chauvelin, whom it had refused to acknowledge since August 10 and the dethronement of the king. The Convention, finding England already leagued with the coalition, and consequently all its promises of neutrality vain and illusive, on February 1, 1793, declared war against the King of Great Britain and the stadtholder of Holland, who had been entirely guided by the cabinet of St. James since 1788.

Spain came to a rupture with the republic, after having interceded in vain for Louis XVI., and made its neutrality the price of the life of the king. The German Empire entirely adopted the war; Bavaria, Suabia, and the Elector Palatine joined the hostile circles of the empire. Naples followed the example of the Holy See, and the only neutral powers were Venice, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark, and Turkey.

In order to confront so many enemies, the Convention decreed a levy of 300,000 men.

The Austrians assumed the offensive, and at Liège put our army wholly to the rout.

Meanwhile, partial disturbances had taken place several times in La Vendée. The Vendéans beat the gendarmerie at Saint Florens. The troops of the line and the battalions of the National Guard who advanced against the insurgents were defeated.

At the same time tidings of new military disasters arrived, one after the other. Dumouriez ventured a general action at Neerwinden, and lost it. Belgium was evacuated, Dumouriez had recourse to the guilty project of defection. He had conference with Colonel Mack, and agreed with the Austrians to march upon Paris for the purpose of re-establishing the monarchy, leaving them on the frontiers, and having first given up to them several fortresses as a guarantee. He proceeded to the execution of his impractical design. He was really in a very difficult position; the soldiers were very much attached to him, but they were also devoted to their country. He had the commissioners of the Convention arrested by German hussars, and delivered them as hostages to the Austrians. After this act of revolt he could no longer hesitate. He tried to induce the army to join him, but was forsaken by it, and then went over to the Austrian camp with the Duc de Chartres, Colonel Thouvenot, and two squadrons of Berchiny. The rest of his army went to the camp at Famars, and joined the troops commanded by Dampierre.

The Convention on learning the arrest of the commissions, established itself as a permanent assembly, declared Dumouriez a traitor, authorised any citizen to attack him, set a price on his head, and decreed the famous Committee of Public Safety.

_V.---The Committee of Public Safety_

Thus was created that terrible power which first destroyed the enemies of the Mountain, then the Mountain and the commune, and, lastly, itself. The committee did everything in the name of the Convention, which it used as an instrument. It nominated and dismissed generals, ministers, representatives, commissioners, judges, and juries. It assailed factions; it took the initiative in all measures. Through its commissioners, armies and generals were dependent upon it, and it ruled the departments with sovereign sway.

By means of the law touching suspected persons, it disposed of men's liberties; by the revolutionary tribunal, of men's lives; by levies and the maximum, of property; by decrees of accusation in the terrified Convention, of its own members. Lastly, its dictatorship was supported by the multitude who debated in the clubs, ruled in the revolutionary committees; whose services it paid by a daily stipend, and whom it fed with the maximum. The multitude adhered to a system which inflamed its passions, exaggerated its importance, assigned it the first place, and appeared to do everything for it.

Two enemies, however, threatened the power of this dictatorial government. Danton and his faction, whose established popularity gave him great weight, and who, as victory over the allies seemed more certain, demanded a cessation of the "Terror," or martial law of the committee; and the commune, or extreme republican municipal government of Paris.

The Committee of Public Safety was too strong not to triumph over the commune, but, at the same time, it had to resist the moderate party, which demanded the cessation of the revolutionary government and the dictatorship of the committees. The revolutionary government had only been created to restrain, the dictatorship to conquer; and as Danton and his party no longer considered restraint within and further victory abroad essential, they sought to establish legal order. Early in 1794 it was time for Danton to defend himself; the proscription, after striking the commune, threatened him. He was advised to be on his guard and to take immediate steps. His friends implored him to defend himself.

"I would rather," said he, "be guillotined than be a guillotiner; besides, my life is not worth the trouble, and I am sick of the world!"

"Well, then, thou shouldst depart."

"Depart!" he repeated, curling his lip disdainfully, "Depart! Can we carry your country away on the sole of our shoe?"

On Germinal 10, as the revolutionary calendar went (March 31, 1796), he was informed that his arrest was being discussed in the Committee of Public Safety. His arrest gave rise to general excitement, to a sombre anxiety. Danton and the rest of the accused were brought before the revolutionary tribunal. They displayed an audacity of speech and a contempt of their judges wholly unusual. They were taken to the Conciergerie, and thence to the scaffold.

They went to death with the intrepidity usual at that epoch. There were many troops under arms, and their escort was numerous. The crowd, generally loud in its applause, was silent. Danton stood erect, and looked proudly and calmly around. At the foot of the scaffold he betrayed a momentary emotion. "Oh, my best beloved--my wife!" he cried. "I shall not see thee again!" Then suddenly interrupting himself: "No weakness, Danton!"

Thus perished the last defender of humanity and moderation; the last who sought to promote peace among the conquerors of the revolution and pity for the conquered. For a long time no voice was raised against the dictatorship of terror. During the four months following the fall of the Danton party, the committee exercised their authority without opposition or restraint. Death became the only means of governing, and the republic was given up to daily and systematic executions.

Robespierre, who was considered the founder of a moral democracy, now attained the highest degree of elevation and of power. He became the object of the general flattery of his party; he was the _great man_ of the republic. At the Jacobins and in the Convention his preservation was attributed to "the good genius of the republic" and to the _Supreme Being_, Whose existence he had decreed on Floréal 18, the celebration of the new religion being fixed for Prairial 20.

But the end of this system drew near. The committees opposed Robespierre in their own way. They secretly strove to bring about his fall by accusing him of tyranny.

Naturally sad, suspicious, and timid, he became more melancholy and mistrustful than ever. He even rose against the committee itself. On Thermidor 8 (July 25, 1794), he entered the Convention at an early hour. He ascended the tribunal, and denounced the committee in a most skilful speech. Not a murmur, not a mark of applause welcomed this declaration of war.

The members of the two committees thus attacked, who had hitherto remained silent, seeing the Mountain thwarted and the majority undecided, thought it time to speak. Vadier first opposed Robespierre's speech and then Robespierre himself. Cambon went further. The committees had also spent the night in deliberation. In this state of affairs the sitting of Thermidor 9 (July 27) began.

Robespierre, after attempting to speak several times, while his voice was drowned by cries of "Down with the tyrant!" and the bell which the president, Thuriot, continued ringing, now made a last effort to be heard. "President of assassins," he cried, "for the last time, will you let me speak?"

Said one of the Mountain: "The blood of Danton chokes you!" His arrest was demanded, and supported on all sides. It was now half-past five, and the sitting was suspended till seven. Robespierre was transferred to the Luxembourg. The commune, after having ordered the gaolers not to receive him, sent municipal officers with detachments to bring him away. Robespierre was liberated, and conducted in triumph to the Hôtel de Ville. On arriving, he was received with the greatest enthusiasm. "Long live Robespierre! Down with the traitors!" resounded on all sides. But the Convention marched upon the Hôtel de Ville.

The conspirators, finding they were lost, sought to escape the violence of their enemies by committing violence on themselves. Robespierre shattered his jaw with a pistol shot. He was deposited for some time at the Committee of Public Safety before he was transferred to the Conciergerie; and here, stretched on a table, his face disfigured and bloody, exposed to the looks, the invectives, the curses of all, he beheld the various parties exulting in his fall, and charging upon him all the crimes that had been committed.