The French Revolution

T >> Thomas Carlyle >> The French Revolution


Be this as it will, History remarks that the Commission of Twelve, now
clear enough as to the Plots; and luckily having 'got the threads of
them all by the end,' as they say,--are launching Mandates of Arrest
rapidly in these May days; and carrying matters with a high hand;
resolute that the sea of troubles shall be restrained. What chief
Patriot, Section-President even, is safe? They can arrest him; tear him
from his warm bed, because he has made irregular Section Arrestments!
They arrest Varlet Apostle of Liberty. They arrest Procureur-Substitute
Hebert, Pere Duchesne; a Magistrate of the People, sitting in Townhall;
who, with high solemnity of martyrdom, takes leave of his colleagues;
prompt he, to obey the Law; and solemnly acquiescent, disappears into
prison.

The swifter fly the Sections, energetically demanding him back;
demanding not arrestment of Popular Magistrates, but of a traitorous
Twenty-two. Section comes flying after Section;--defiling energetic,
with their Cambyses' vein of oratory: nay the Commune itself comes,
with Mayor Pache at its head; and with question not of Hebert and the
Twenty-two alone, but with this ominous old question made new, "Can you
save the Republic, or must we do it?" To whom President Max Isnard makes
fiery answer: If by fatal chance, in any of those tumults which since
the Tenth of March are ever returning, Paris were to lift a sacrilegious
finger against the National Representation, France would rise as one
man, in never-imagined vengeance, and shortly "the traveller would ask,
on which side of the Seine Paris had stood!" (Moniteur, Seance du 25
Mai, 1793.) Whereat the Mountain bellows only louder, and every Gallery;
Patriot Paris boiling round.

And Girondin Valaze has nightly conclaves at his house; sends billets;
'Come punctually, and well armed, for there is to be business.' And
Megaera women perambulate the streets, with flags, with lamentable
alleleu. (Meillan, Memoires, p. 195; Buzot, pp. 69, 84.) And the
Convention-doors are obstructed by roaring multitudes: find-spoken
hommes d'etat are hustled, maltreated, as they pass; Marat will
apostrophise you, in such death-peril, and say, Thou too art of them.
If Roland ask leave to quit Paris, there is order of the day. What help?
Substitute Hebert, Apostle Varlet, must be given back; to be crowned
with oak-garlands. The Commission of Twelve, in a Convention overwhelmed
with roaring Sections, is broken; then on the morrow, in a Convention of
rallied Girondins, is reinstated. Dim Chaos, or the sea of troubles, is
struggling through all its elements; writhing and chafing towards some
creation.




Chapter 3.3.IX.

Extinct.

Accordingly, on Friday, the Thirty-first of May 1793, there comes forth
into the summer sunlight one of the strangest scenes. Mayor Pache with
Municipality arrives at the Tuileries Hall of Convention; sent for,
Paris being in visible ferment; and gives the strangest news.

How, in the grey of this morning, while we sat Permanent in Townhall,
watchful for the commonweal, there entered, precisely as on a Tenth of
August, some Ninety-six extraneous persons; who declared themselves to
be in a state of Insurrection; to be plenipotentiary Commissioners from
the Forty-eight Sections, sections or members of the Sovereign People,
all in a state of Insurrection; and further that we, in the name of said
Sovereign in Insurrection, were dismissed from office. How we thereupon
laid off our sashes, and withdrew into the adjacent Saloon of Liberty.
How in a moment or two, we were called back; and reinstated; the
Sovereign pleasing to think us still worthy of confidence. Whereby,
having taken new oath of office, we on a sudden find ourselves
Insurrectionary Magistrates, with extraneous Committee of Ninety-six
sitting by us; and a Citoyen Henriot, one whom some accuse of
Septemberism, is made Generalissimo of the National Guard; and, since
six o'clock, the tocsins ring and the drums beat:--Under which peculiar
circumstances, what would an august National Convention please to direct
us to do? (Compare Debats de la Convention (Paris, 1828), iv. 187-223;
Moniteur, Nos. 152, 3, 4, An 1er.)

Yes, there is the question! "Break the Insurrectionary Authorities,"
answers some with vehemence. Vergniaud at least will have "the National
Representatives all die at their post;" this is sworn to, with ready
loud acclaim. But as to breaking the Insurrectionary Authorities,--alas,
while we yet debate, what sound is that? Sound of the Alarm-Cannon on
the Pont Neuf; which it is death by the Law to fire without order from
us!

It does boom off there, nevertheless; sending a sound through all
hearts. And the tocsins discourse stern music; and Henriot with his
Armed Force has enveloped us! And Section succeeds Section, the livelong
day; demanding with Cambyses'-oratory, with the rattle of muskets, That
traitors, Twenty-two or more, be punished; that the Commission of
Twelve be irrecoverably broken. The heart of the Gironde dies within
it; distant are the Seventy-two respectable Departments, this fiery
Municipality is near! Barrere is for a middle course; granting
something. The Commission of Twelve declares that, not waiting to be
broken, it hereby breaks itself, and is no more. Fain would Reporter
Rabaut speak his and its last-words; but he is bellowed off. Too happy
that the Twenty-two are still left unviolated!--Vergniaud, carrying the
laws of refinement to a great length, moves, to the amazement of some,
that 'the Sections of Paris have deserved well of their country.'
Whereupon, at a late hour of the evening, the deserving Sections retire
to their respective places of abode. Barrere shall report on it. With
busy quill and brain he sits, secluded; for him no sleep to-night.
Friday the last of May has ended in this manner.

The Sections have deserved well: but ought they not to deserve better?
Faction and Girondism is struck down for the moment, and consents to be
a nullity; but will it not, at another favourabler moment rise, still
feller; and the Republic have to be saved in spite of it? So reasons
Patriotism, still Permanent; so reasons the Figure of Marat, visible in
the dim Section-world, on the morrow. To the conviction of men!--And so
at eventide of Saturday, when Barrere had just got it all varnished in
the course of the day, and his Report was setting off in the evening
mail-bags, tocsin peals out again! Generale is beating; armed men taking
station in the Place Vendome and elsewhere for the night; supplied with
provisions and liquor. There under the summer stars will they wait, this
night, what is to be seen and to be done, Henriot and Townhall giving
due signal.

The Convention, at sound of generale, hastens back to its Hall; but
to the number only of a Hundred; and does little business, puts off
business till the morrow. The Girondins do not stir out thither, the
Girondins are abroad seeking beds. Poor Rabaut, on the morrow morning,
returning to his post, with Louvet and some others, through streets all
in ferment, wrings his hands, ejaculating, "Illa suprema dies!" (Louvet,
Memoires, p. 89.) It has become Sunday, the second day of June, year
1793, by the old style; by the new style, year One of Liberty, Equality,
Fraternity. We have got to the last scene of all, that ends this history
of the Girondin Senatorship.

It seems doubtful whether any terrestrial Convention had ever met in
such circumstances as this National one now does. Tocsin is pealing;
Barriers shut; all Paris is on the gaze, or under arms. As many as a
Hundred Thousand under arms they count: National Force; and the Armed
Volunteers, who should have flown to the Frontiers and La Vendee; but
would not, treason being unpunished; and only flew hither and thither!
So many, steady under arms, environ the National Tuileries and Garden.
There are horse, foot, artillery, sappers with beards: the artillery
one can see with their camp-furnaces in this National Garden, heating
bullets red, and their match is lighted. Henriot in plumes rides, amid a
plumed Staff: all posts and issues are safe; reserves lie out, as far as
the Wood of Boulogne; the choicest Patriots nearest the scene. One
other circumstance we will note: that a careful Municipality, liberal
of camp-furnaces, has not forgotten provision-carts. No member of the
Sovereign need now go home to dinner; but can keep rank,--plentiful
victual circulating unsought. Does not this People understand
Insurrection? Ye, not uninventive, Gualches!--

Therefore let a National Representation, 'mandatories of the Sovereign,'
take thought of it. Expulsion of your Twenty-two, and your Commission of
Twelve: we stand here till it be done! Deputation after Deputation,
in ever stronger language, comes with that message. Barrere proposes
a middle course:--Will not perhaps the inculpated Deputies consent to
withdraw voluntarily; to make a generous demission, and self-sacrifice
for the sake of one's country? Isnard, repentant of that search on which
river-bank Paris stood, declares himself ready to demit. Ready also
is Te-Deum Fauchet; old Dusaulx of the Bastille, 'vieux radoteur,
old dotard,' as Marat calls him, is still readier. On the contrary,
Lanjuinais the Breton declares that there is one man who never will
demit voluntarily; but will protest to the uttermost, while a voice is
left him. And he accordingly goes on protesting; amid rage and clangor;
Legendre crying at last: "Lanjuinais, come down from the Tribune, or I
will fling thee down, ou je te jette en bas!" For matters are come
to extremity. Nay they do clutch hold of Lanjuinais, certain zealous
Mountain-men; but cannot fling him down, for he 'cramps himself on the
railing;' and 'his clothes get torn.' Brave Senator, worthy of pity!
Neither will Barbaroux demit; he "has sworn to die at his post, and
will keep that oath." Whereupon the Galleries all rise with explosion;
brandishing weapons, some of them; and rush out saying: "Allons, then;
we must save our country!" Such a Session is this of Sunday the second
of June.

Churches fill, over Christian Europe, and then empty themselves; but
this Convention empties not, the while: a day of shrieking contention,
of agony, humiliation and tearing of coatskirts; illa suprema dies!
Round stand Henriot and his Hundred Thousand, copiously refreshed
from tray and basket: nay he is 'distributing five francs a-piece;' we
Girondins saw it with our eyes; five francs to keep them in heart! And
distraction of armed riot encumbers our borders, jangles at our Bar; we
are prisoners in our own Hall: Bishop Gregoire could not get out for
a besoin actuel without four gendarmes to wait on him! What is the
character of a National Representative become? And now the sunlight
falls yellower on western windows, and the chimney-tops are flinging
longer shadows; the refreshed Hundred Thousand, nor their shadows, stir
not! What to resolve on? Motion rises, superfluous one would think, That
the Convention go forth in a body; ascertain with its own eyes
whether it is free or not. Lo, therefore, from the Eastern Gate of the
Tuileries, a distressed Convention issuing; handsome Herault Sechelles
at their head; he with hat on, in sign of public calamity, the rest
bareheaded,--towards the Gate of the Carrousel; wondrous to see: towards
Henriot and his plumed staff. "In the name of the National Convention,
make way!" Not an inch of the way does Henriot make: "I receive no
orders, till the Sovereign, yours and mine, has been obeyed." The
Convention presses on; Henriot prances back, with his staff, some
fifteen paces, "To arms! Cannoneers to your guns!"--flashes out his
puissant sword, as the Staff all do, and the Hussars all do. Cannoneers
brandish the lit match; Infantry present arms,--alas, in the level way,
as if for firing! Hatted Herault leads his distressed flock, through
their pinfold of a Tuileries again; across the Garden, to the Gate on
the opposite side. Here is Feuillans Terrace, alas, there is our old
Salle de Manege; but neither at this Gate of the Pont Tournant is there
egress. Try the other; and the other: no egress! We wander disconsolate
through armed ranks; who indeed salute with Live the Republic, but also
with Die the Gironde. Other such sight, in the year One of Liberty, the
westering sun never saw.

And now behold Marat meets us; for he lagged in this Suppliant
Procession of ours: he has got some hundred elect Patriots at his heels:
he orders us in the Sovereign's name to return to our place, and do
as we are bidden and bound. The Convention returns. "Does not the
Convention," says Couthon with a singular power of face, "see that it
is free?"--none but friends round it? The Convention, overflowing with
friends and armed Sectioners, proceeds to vote as bidden. Many will not
vote, but remain silent; some one or two protest, in words: the
Mountain has a clear unanimity. Commission of Twelve, and the denounced
Twenty-two, to whom we add Ex-Ministers Claviere and Lebrun: these, with
some slight extempore alterations (this or that orator proposing,
but Marat disposing), are voted to be under 'Arrestment in their own
houses.' Brissot, Buzot, Vergniaud, Guadet, Louvet, Gensonne, Barbaroux,
Lasource, Lanjuinais, Rabaut,--Thirty-two, by the tale; all that we
have known as Girondins, and more than we have known. They, 'under the
safeguard of the French People;' by and by, under the safeguard of
two Gendarmes each, shall dwell peaceably in their own houses; as
Non-Senators; till further order. Herewith ends Seance of Sunday the
second of June 1793.

At ten o'clock, under mild stars, the Hundred Thousand, their work well
finished, turn homewards. This same day, Central Insurrection Committee
has arrested Madame Roland; imprisoned her in the Abbaye. Roland has
fled, no one knows whither.

Thus fell the Girondins, by Insurrection; and became extinct as a Party:
not without a sigh from most Historians. The men were men of parts, of
Philosophic culture, decent behaviour; not condemnable in that they were
Pedants and had not better parts; not condemnable, but most unfortunate.
They wanted a Republic of the Virtues, wherein themselves should be
head; and they could only get a Republic of the Strengths, wherein
others than they were head.

For the rest, Barrere shall make Report of it. The night concludes with
a 'civic promenade by torchlight:' (Buzot, Memoires, p. 310. See Pieces
Justificatives, of Narratives, Commentaries, &c. in Buzot, Louvet,
Meillan: Documens Complementaires, in Hist. Parl. xxviii. 1-78.) surely
the true reign of Fraternity is now not far?




BOOK 3.IV.

TERROR


Chapter 3.4.I.

Charlotte Corday.

In the leafy months of June and July, several French Departments
germinate a set of rebellious paper-leaves, named Proclamations,
Resolutions, Journals, or Diurnals 'of the Union for Resistance to
Oppression.' In particular, the Town of Caen, in Calvados, sees its
paper-leaf of Bulletin de Caen suddenly bud, suddenly establish
itself as Newspaper there; under the Editorship of Girondin National
Representatives!

For among the proscribed Girondins are certain of a more desperate
humour. Some, as Vergniaud, Valaze, Gensonne, 'arrested in their own
houses' will await with stoical resignation what the issue may be. Some,
as Brissot, Rabaut, will take to flight, to concealment; which, as the
Paris Barriers are opened again in a day or two, is not yet difficult.
But others there are who will rush, with Buzot, to Calvados; or far over
France, to Lyons, Toulon, Nantes and elsewhither, and then rendezvous
at Caen: to awaken as with war-trumpet the respectable Departments; and
strike down an anarchic Mountain Faction; at least not yield without a
stroke at it. Of this latter temper we count some score or more, of the
Arrested, and of the Not-yet-arrested; a Buzot, a Barbaroux, Louvet,
Guadet, Petion, who have escaped from Arrestment in their own homes;
a Salles, a Pythagorean Valady, a Duchatel, the Duchatel that came in
blanket and nightcap to vote for the life of Louis, who have escaped
from danger and likelihood of Arrestment. These, to the number at one
time of Twenty-seven, do accordingly lodge here, at the 'Intendance,
or Departmental Mansion,' of the Town of Caen; welcomed by Persons in
Authority; welcomed and defrayed, having no money of their own. And the
Bulletin de Caen comes forth, with the most animating paragraphs: How
the Bourdeaux Department, the Lyons Department, this Department after
the other is declaring itself; sixty, or say sixty-nine, or seventy-two
(Meillan, p. 72, 73; Louvet, p. 129.) respectable Departments either
declaring, or ready to declare. Nay Marseilles, it seems, will march on
Paris by itself, if need be. So has Marseilles Town said, That she
will march. But on the other hand, that Montelimart Town has said, No
thoroughfare; and means even to 'bury herself' under her own stone and
mortar first--of this be no mention in Bulletin of Caen.

Such animating paragraphs we read in this Newspaper; and fervours, and
eloquent sarcasm: tirades against the Mountain, frame pen of Deputy
Salles; which resemble, say friends, Pascal's Provincials. What is
more to the purpose, these Girondins have got a General in chief, one
Wimpfen, formerly under Dumouriez; also a secondary questionable General
Puisaye, and others; and are doing their best to raise a force for war.
National Volunteers, whosoever is of right heart: gather in, ye National
Volunteers, friends of Liberty; from our Calvados Townships, from the
Eure, from Brittany, from far and near; forward to Paris, and extinguish
Anarchy! Thus at Caen, in the early July days, there is a drumming and
parading, a perorating and consulting: Staff and Army; Council; Club of
Carabots, Anti-jacobin friends of Freedom, to denounce atrocious Marat.
With all which, and the editing of Bulletins, a National Representative
has his hands full.

At Caen it is most animated; and, as one hopes, more or less animated in
the 'Seventy-two Departments that adhere to us.' And in a France begirt
with Cimmerian invading Coalitions, and torn with an internal La Vendee,
this is the conclusion we have arrived at: to put down Anarchy by Civil
War! Durum et durum, the Proverb says, non faciunt murum. La Vendee
burns: Santerre can do nothing there; he may return home and brew beer.
Cimmerian bombshells fly all along the North. That Siege of Mentz is
become famed;--lovers of the Picturesque (as Goethe will testify),
washed country-people of both sexes, stroll thither on Sundays, to see
the artillery work and counterwork; 'you only duck a little while
the shot whizzes past.' (Belagerung von Mainz, Goethe's Werke, xxx.
278-334.) Conde is capitulating to the Austrians; Royal Highness of
York, these several weeks, fiercely batters Valenciennes. For, alas,
our fortified Camp of Famars was stormed; General Dampierre was killed;
General Custine was blamed,--and indeed is now come to Paris to give
'explanations.'

Against all which the Mountain and atrocious Marat must even make head
as they can. They, anarchic Convention as they are, publish Decrees,
expostulatory, explanatory, yet not without severity; they ray forth
Commissioners, singly or in pairs, the olive-branch in one hand, yet the
sword in the other. Commissioners come even to Caen; but without
effect. Mathematical Romme, and Prieur named of the Cote d'Or, venturing
thither, with their olive and sword, are packed into prison: there may
Romme lie, under lock and key, 'for fifty days;' and meditate his New
Calendar, if he please. Cimmeria and Civil War! Never was Republic One
and Indivisible at a lower ebb.--

Amid which dim ferment of Caen and the World, History specially notices
one thing: in the lobby of the Mansion de l'Intendance, where busy
Deputies are coming and going, a young Lady with an aged valet, taking
grave graceful leave of Deputy Barbaroux. (Meillan, p.75; Louvet, p.
114.) She is of stately Norman figure; in her twenty-fifth year; of
beautiful still countenance: her name is Charlotte Corday, heretofore
styled d'Armans, while Nobility still was. Barbaroux has given her
a Note to Deputy Duperret,--him who once drew his sword in the
effervescence. Apparently she will to Paris on some errand? 'She was
a Republican before the Revolution, and never wanted energy.' A
completeness, a decision is in this fair female Figure: 'by energy
she means the spirit that will prompt one to sacrifice himself for his
country.' What if she, this fair young Charlotte, had emerged from
her secluded stillness, suddenly like a Star; cruel-lovely, with
half-angelic, half-demonic splendour; to gleam for a moment, and in a
moment be extinguished: to be held in memory, so bright complete was
she, through long centuries!--Quitting Cimmerian Coalitions without, and
the dim-simmering Twenty-five millions within, History will look fixedly
at this one fair Apparition of a Charlotte Corday; will note whither
Charlotte moves, how the little Life burns forth so radiant, then
vanishes swallowed of the Night.

With Barbaroux's Note of Introduction, and slight stock of luggage,
we see Charlotte, on Tuesday the ninth of July, seated in the Caen
Diligence, with a place for Paris. None takes farewell of her, wishes
her Good-journey: her Father will find a line left, signifying that she
is gone to England, that he must pardon her and forget her. The drowsy
Diligence lumbers along; amid drowsy talk of Politics, and praise of the
Mountain; in which she mingles not; all night, all day, and again
all night. On Thursday, not long before none, we are at the Bridge of
Neuilly; here is Paris with her thousand black domes,--the goal and
purpose of thy journey! Arrived at the Inn de la Providence in the Rue
des Vieux Augustins, Charlotte demands a room; hastens to bed; sleeps
all afternoon and night, till the morrow morning.

On the morrow morning, she delivers her Note to Duperret. It relates to
certain Family Papers which are in the Minister of the Interior's hand;
which a Nun at Caen, an old Convent-friend of Charlotte's, has need of;
which Duperret shall assist her in getting: this then was Charlotte's
errand to Paris? She has finished this, in the course of Friday;--yet
says nothing of returning. She has seen and silently investigated
several things. The Convention, in bodily reality, she has seen; what
the Mountain is like. The living physiognomy of Marat she could not see;
he is sick at present, and confined to home.

About eight on the Saturday morning, she purchases a large sheath-knife
in the Palais Royal; then straightway, in the Place des Victoires, takes
a hackney-coach: "To the Rue de l'Ecole de Medecine, No. 44." It is the
residence of the Citoyen Marat!--The Citoyen Marat is ill, and cannot
be seen; which seems to disappoint her much. Her business is with Marat,
then? Hapless beautiful Charlotte; hapless squalid Marat! From Caen in
the utmost West, from Neuchatel in the utmost East, they two are
drawing nigh each other; they two have, very strangely, business
together.--Charlotte, returning to her Inn, despatches a short Note to
Marat; signifying that she is from Caen, the seat of rebellion; that she
desires earnestly to see him, and 'will put it in his power to do France
a great service.' No answer. Charlotte writes another Note, still
more pressing; sets out with it by coach, about seven in the evening,
herself. Tired day-labourers have again finished their Week; huge Paris
is circling and simmering, manifold, according to its vague wont: this
one fair Figure has decision in it; drives straight,--towards a purpose.

It is yellow July evening, we say, the thirteenth of the month; eve of
the Bastille day,--when 'M. Marat,' four years ago, in the crowd of the
Pont Neuf, shrewdly required of that Besenval Hussar-party, which had
such friendly dispositions, "to dismount, and give up their arms, then;"
and became notable among Patriot men! Four years: what a road he has
travelled;--and sits now, about half-past seven of the clock, stewing
in slipper-bath; sore afflicted; ill of Revolution Fever,--of what other
malady this History had rather not name. Excessively sick and worn, poor
man: with precisely elevenpence-halfpenny of ready money, in paper; with
slipper-bath; strong three-footed stool for writing on, the while; and a
squalid--Washerwoman, one may call her: that is his civic establishment
in Medical-School Street; thither and not elsewhither has his road led
him. Not to the reign of Brotherhood and Perfect Felicity; yet surely
on the way towards that?--Hark, a rap again! A musical woman's-voice,
refusing to be rejected: it is the Citoyenne who would do France a
service. Marat, recognising from within, cries, Admit her. Charlotte
Corday is admitted.

Citoyen Marat, I am from Caen the seat of rebellion, and wished to speak
with you.--Be seated, mon enfant. Now what are the Traitors doing at
Caen? What Deputies are at Caen?--Charlotte names some Deputies. "Their
heads shall fall within a fortnight," croaks the eager People's-Friend,
clutching his tablets to write: Barbaroux, Petion, writes he with
bare shrunk arm, turning aside in the bath: Petion, and Louvet,
and--Charlotte has drawn her knife from the sheath; plunges it, with one
sure stroke, into the writer's heart. "A moi, chere amie, Help, dear!"
No more could the Death-choked say or shriek. The helpful Washerwoman
running in, there is no Friend of the People, or Friend of the
Washerwoman, left; but his life with a groan gushes out, indignant, to
the shades below. (Moniteur, Nos. 197, 198, 199; Hist. Parl. xxviii.
301-5; Deux Amis, x. 368-374.)