CHAPTER III.
AT THE JACOBIN CLUB.
JUNE 21, 1791.--The expected has happened. To-day, early in the morning,the rumor of the flight of Louis XVI and his family spread over Paris.
Victoria and I went out to observe what impression the desertion of theKing and Queen would make upon the people. An innumerable multitudecovered the garden of the Palais Royal, the place before the City Hall,and the grounds of the Tuileries and the National Assembly. At teno'clock in the morning the municipal officers fired three cannon as analarm. The tocsin sounded, the drums of the National Guard rang out the"assembly." The confusion was indescribable.
In the course of our travels we met Monsieur Hubert. It was the firsttime I had come face to face with him since the day I asked his niece inmarriage. In full uniform, the banker was repairing to his Section,where his royalist district battalion, the Daughters of St. Thomas, wasassembling. He approached me and cried brusquely:
"Well? The King has gone. But we don't want the Republic, and shalldefend the Constitution to the death."
"What Constitution do you pretend to defend?" replied Victoria. "TheConstitution recognizes a hereditary King, the King absconds.Circumstances themselves demand the Republic."
Hubert was dumb for a moment. Then he said, "Citizeness! The Assemblywill name Lafayette provisionally Protector of the kingdom. For therest, the Assembly has sent commissioners after the King, and we hopethat they will succeed in reaching him before he gains the frontier. Thequestion will be simplified."
At that moment a flux of the crowd tore Victoria and me away, andcarried us on towards the palace of the Tuileries. The sentinels at thefoot of the great stairway allowed everyone up into the apartments. Thethronging visitors were, like ourselves, all under the influence of amocking curiosity, remembering, as they did, that the monarch whoinhabited these sumptuous apartments complained of the insufficiency ofhis 40,000,000 francs on the civil list, and pretended that he could notprocure the necessaries of life. Leaving the palace again, we followedthe boulevards back to the St. Antoine suburb. Everywhere weremanifested aversion for royalty, contempt for the person of Louis XVI,and hatred for the Austrian, Marie Antoinette.
Several organs of the patriotic press lent their encouragement to therepublican tendencies in the air, either by openly demanding theRepublic, or by insisting that Louis had forfeited his title. Marat, in_The Friend of the People_, voiced in these words the indignation of thepeople against the King, the court, and the ministers:
"Citizens, Louis XVI has this night taken flight.... This King,perjured, faithless, without shame, without remorse, has gone to jointhe foreign Kings, his accomplices. The thirst for absolute power whichdevours his soul will soon turn him into a ferocious assassin. He willreturn to steep himself in the blood of _his subjects_, who refuse tosubmit to his tyrannical yoke.... And, as he waits, he laughs at thedullness of the Parisians, who took him at his word.... Citizens, youare lost, if you give ear to the National Assembly, which will not ceaseto cajole you, to lull you to sleep, until the enemy has arrived underour walls! Despatch this instant couriers to the Departments. Call thefederated Bretons to your aid! Make yourselves masters of the arsenal.Disarm the mounted constables, the guards at the gates, the patrols ofthe fortifications, the hired troops--all counter-revolutionists!Citizens, name within the hour a pitiless dictator, who, with the sameblow, will sever the heads of the ministers, of their subalterns, ofLafayette, of all the scoundrels of his staff, of all thecounter-revolutionists, of all the traitors in the National Assembly."
In his _Revolutions of France_, Camille Desmoulins, with his brilliantmockery, characterized the situation thus:
"The King has fired point blank on the Nation; the shot has hung fire.Now it is the Nation's turn to shoot. Doubtless it will disdain tomeasure itself against a disarmed man, even if he be a King! And I wouldbe the first to fire in the air--but the aggressor must beg of me hislife."
Placards, inscriptions of all nature, posted on the walls of Paris,powerfully stirred the opinions of the people. Towards the close of theday, the journal called _The Mouth of Iron_ published in a supplement aproclamation addressed to the French by Louis XVI, which had been seizedat the domicile of Laporte, one of the onhangers at court, who had beencommissioned to print it and flood Paris with it.
"The King," so declared the manifesto, "has for a long time hoped to seeorder and happiness restored by the Assembly; he renounces that hope.The safety of persons and of property is compromised. Anarchy iseverywhere. The King, considering himself a prisoner during his forcedstay in Paris, protests against all the acts of the Assembly, andagainst the Constitution, which outrages the Church, and degradesroyalty, subordinating it to the Assembly, reducing it to aninsufficient civil list, etc., etc. In the face of such motives, in thedisability under which I labor of stopping the evil, I had to seek myown safety. Frenchmen, you whom I call the inhabitants of my good cityof Paris, beware of these insurgents! Return to your King! He will bealways your friend, when our holy religion is respected, when thegovernment is stable, and when liberty is established on unshakablefoundations!
"_Signed_,
LOUIS."
Hard by the site of the Bastille, on a pile of the ruins of thefortress, a young citizen, who by the elegance of his dress and thecareful powdering of his hair seemed to be of the upper bourgeoisie,made the following motion:
"Gentlemen, in the present state of affairs, it would be veryunfortunate for our disgraceful and perfidious King to be brought backto us! What can we do with him? This fugitive will come like Thersite,shedding those fat tears of which Homer speaks. So, then, if they committhe enormous mistake of bringing Louis XVI back to us, I propose thismotion: That the Executive be exposed three days to public ridicule.That he be conducted by stages to the frontier, and that there thecommissioners of the Republic who shall have so far escorted him shallsolemnly present to this last of the Kings--their boots in his rear, andsend him to the devil."
This novel motion was received on the part of all who heard it withshouts of laughter and applause. "Yes, yes! Let them plant their bootsin the royal rear!" they echoed.
Such, in short, was the spirit of Paris on the 21st of June, 1791. Thebulk of the bourgeoisie, thunder-struck at the absconding of its King,was resolved, in case the commissioners despatched by the Assembly wereunable to overtake Louis XVI and bring him back, to shelter itselfbehind the protectorate offered to Lafayette, if they should fail toinduce the Duke of Orleans to accept the constitutional royalty. Thepeople on the contrary, were rejoiced to be rid of the King, and lookedforward to a Republic.
That evening we attended the Jacobin Club, where a great audience waspacked.
O, sons of Joel! I know not how to depict for you the emotions ofpatriotism, mingled with respect, with which we, the contemporaries ofthe great days of the Revolution, entered this ancient hall of theConvent of the Jacobins in St. Honore Street, an immense hall, withwalls of stone blackened and crumbled with age, lighted only by a fewtapers placed on a heavy table, behind which sat the president andsecretaries of the club.
The Jacobin Club was the revolutionary church most frequented by thepeople. In that plebeian forum were debated the great questions thatagitated Paris, France, Europe! It was from that hearth glowing withpatriotism that radiated the civic virtues which from one end of thecountry to the other fired all hearts. The Club of the Jacobins was thepolitical school of the proletariat; it was there that the workingmentook direct hold of public affairs; it was in the midst of itstempestuous debates that the opinion of the people cleared itself andtook form, whence it often went to weigh, with no negligible force, uponthe deliberations of the National Assembly. It was from the heights ofthe ringing tribunal of the Jacobins that the vigilant citizens watchedand heralded the manoeuvres of our enemies, and kept their eyes on thepublic functionaries; it was from this popular tribunal that issued thecries of mistrust or alarm. It was, in brief, from this tribunal thatthe patriots, at the approach of grave
perils, reawoke the slumbering,misled or wearied public opinion, infused into it new activity, andrekindled in it the fever of revolution--a sublime mission!
Alas, by an unexplainable error of judgment, or of political tact, theJacobins on the 21st of June, the day of the flight of Louis XVI, didnot respond to the prayers of the people. The Jacobins did not profit bythe circumstance, as favorable as unexpected, of the desertion of theKing, to demand of the National Assembly, in the name of theConstitution, that the title of Louis XVI be declared forfeit. In thismeeting, otherwise so moving, the conduct of the Jacobins wasindecisive, equivocal, and blameworthy; for, in a revolution, not toprofit by every favorable event is an unpardonable fault. A single errorbrings defeat.
When, about eight in the evening, Victoria and I entered the hall of theJacobins, the chamber and the galleries were packed with spectatorsdrawn thither by the importance of the debates which the events of theday were expected to call forth. Men, women, young girls, waited withfeverish impatience for the meeting to be thrown open. One of thestriking features of our revolution was the passionate interest taken bywomen in the affairs of the community; already, sons of Joel, you haveseen them, these valiant Gallic women, taking as virile a part in actionas in discussion, like their mothers of Gaul in the centuries agone.
The members of the bureau of the club took their places, and the tumulthushed. Citizen Prieur, of La Marne, presided; at his sides were thesecretaries, Goncourt, Chery, Jr., Lampidor, and Danjou. The presidentrang his bell, and announced the reading of an address sent to all thesocieties in the departments, which were in correspondence with thecentral club. Thus was explained the marvelous unanimity between theparent society of the Jacobins and the affiliated societies in theprovinces. A profound silence now reigned in the chamber, while CitizenDanjou read the address:
"Brothers and friends:
"The King, led astray by criminal suggestions, has separated himself from the National Assembly. Far from being downcast over this development, our courage and that of our fellow citizens is risen to the emergency. Not a shadow of trouble, not a disordered movement, has accompanied the impression made upon us by this fact.
"A calm and determined firmness leaves us the disposition of all our forces; consecrated to the defense of a great cause, they will be victorious!
"All divisions are forgotten, all patriots are united. The National Assembly--that is our guide; the Constitution--that is our rallying cry."
It would be difficult to express the surprise, the disfavor, I hadalmost said the sorrow, which were produced in the audience by thereading of this opiate-laden manifesto, accepted by the majority of themembers of the club.
But unexpectedly Camille Desmoulins appeared on the scene. He strodetoward the tribunal and demanded of the president the floor for acommunication he had to make to the Jacobins. Though still a young man,Desmoulins was an influential member of the Club of the Cordeliers. Hisphysiognomy was expressive, ironical, and finely cut. He leaped to theplatform, and in his incisive voice, while sober in gesture and bearing,he let loose his biting sarcasm:
"Citizens, while the National Assembly decrees--and decrees and decreesand never lets up decreeing--as much good as bad, and more bad thangood--the people is acting admirably as police; and, showing itself noless a friend of provisional rule than the Assembly, it has decreed thatall pillagers shall be provisionally--hanged to the lamp-post. CrossingVoltaire Quay just now, I saw Lafayette preparing to review thebatallions of the blue-bonnets, drawn up on the quay. Convinced of theneed of uniting on one leader, I yielded to an attraction which drew meover to the famous white horse. 'Monsieur Lafayette,' I called to him,'I have indeed said some evil of you during the year, and thought noless. Now is the time to convict me of false testimony in safeguardingpublic affairs!' 'I have always known you for a good citizen,' gallantlyreplied the General, holding out his hand to me; 'the common danger hasunited all parties. There is no longer in the Assembly but one singlespirit!'--'One single spirit! That is very few for so numerous andillustrious an assembly,' quoth I to the General. 'But why does thissingle soul of the Assembly affect to speak in its decrees of the_carrying off_ of the King, when the Executive writes to the Assemblythat no one is carrying him off at all, that he is going himself? I canpardon the lie of a servant who lies in the fear of losing his place ifhe tells the truth,' continued I, 'but the Assembly is not, to myknowledge, the servant of the Executive, whether present or in flight.The Assembly has three million pikes and bayonets at its service.Whence, then, comes the baseness, or the treason, which dictated to itsuch a vile falsehood!' '_The carrying off of the King!_ The Assemblywill correct that mistake in wording,' the General answered me. And headded several times, 'The conduct of the King is indeed infamous.'"
Camille Desmoulins stopped. He had seen Robespierre enter the hall, andprepared to descend from the tribunal, saying with cordial deference:
"Here is my friend and master. I yield him the floor."
Had it not been for the certainty of hearing Robespierre, the audiencewould undoubtedly have insisted on the completion of the lively orationjust begun. But Robespierre was one of the most esteemed orators of theJacobin Club, a high appreciation which he merited by his great talent,his tireless energy, the loftiness of his character, his integrity, theausterity of his morals, and his devotion to the revolutionary cause.Unhappily, that medal had a reverse: Robespierre carried his mistrust ofmen to an extreme; he showed himself always cold, harsh, and suspicious,to the point of committing acts of injustice towards citizens asdevoted as himself to the public cause, but who had the pretension toserve it by means different from his.
The deep silence in the hall was re-established. The scatteringconversation ceased. Robespierre was on the platform. His features,ordinarily impassible as a mask of marble, were now marked with a bitterirony, and he uttered his words in a voice that was at once curt,sonorous and metallic:
"It is not to me, citizens, that the flight of the first functionary ofthe State comes as a disastrous event. This day could be the finest dayof the Revolution. It can still become so! The recovery of the fortymillions which the entertainment of this royal individual costs would bethe least of its blessings. But for that, citizens, other measures mustbe taken than those adopted by the National Assembly. And I seized themoment when the session was suspended to come here to speak to you ofthese measures, which there they do not allow me to propose. Indeserting now his post, the King has chosen the very moment when thepriests are trying to raise up against the Constitution all the idiotsand blind-men who have survived the light of philosophy in the wholeeighty-three departments of France; the moment when the Emperor ofAustria and the King of Sweden are at Brussells to receive this perjuredand deserting King. That does not alarm me a bit. Oh, no! Let Europeleague herself against us--the Revolution will conquer Europe!
"No, I fear not the coalition of Kings," continued Robespierre, in atone of proud disdain. "But do you know, fellow citizens, what frightensme? It is to hear our enemies hold the same language as we, it is tohear them exclaim like us, that we must rally to the defense of theConstitution. Louis XVI does not count alone on the assistance offoreign forces to re-enter his kingdom in triumph; he counts as well onthe support of a party within, which to-day wears the mask ofpatriotism; of that party the National Assembly is the accomplice."
This new affirmation, so clear, so precise, of the culpable conduct ofthe Assembly excited afresh the murmurs of the Jacobins and the applauseof the people. Every ear was strained to catch, with anxious impatience,the measures which Robespierre was about to announce as necessary tomake this the most splendid day of the Revolution.
"What I have just said to you is the exact truth," proceeded Robespierresolemnly. "But could I make the National Assembly listen to the truth?No! I was not heard. Ah, I know, this denunciation is dangerous for me.What does that matter--it is useful for the public good. Thisdenunciation will sharpen for me a thousand po
niards! I shall become anobject of hatred to my colleagues of the Assembly, who are nearly allcounter-revolutionists--some through ignorance, others through fear,some through private reasons, others through blind confidence, othersthrough corruption. I devote myself to hate--to death. I know it!" addedRobespierre, with stoical tranquility.
"Ah! when, still unknown, I sat in the Assembly, I had already made thesacrifice of my life to truth, to the country. But to-day, when I owe somuch to the recognition, to the love of my friends, I accept death as ablessing. It will prevent me from witnessing inevitable evils."
Then, overcoming his passing emotion and returning to his naturalinflexibility of bearing, he added in a voice short and firm:
"I have just held trial over the Assembly; now let it hold trial overme!"
The conclusion of this discourse produced an extraordinary effect uponthe audience, and when Robespierre left the platform, the Jacobins rosewith one spontaneous motion. Camille Desmoulins ran to the orator, and,his face moist with tears, said to Robespierre as he clasped him in afraternal embrace:
"We shall die with you!"
One of the striking characteristics of Robespierre's policy was never toventure a motion when its success was problematical. Hence the apparentcontradiction between the beginning and the end of the address he hadjust delivered. He had evidently intended to advise prompt and decisivemeasures against the royal power and against the Assembly; but, feelingthe ground, and becoming assured that the measures he had to proposewould meet with opposition among the Jacobins, Robespierre considered itwiser, more politic, to temporize, and to confine himself to castingsuspicion upon the National Assembly.
Almost as soon as Robespierre left the tribunal, there were seen toenter the hall first Danton, a man of energy and action, and thenLafayette.
The presence of these two men, personifying respectively action andreaction, revolution and counter-revolution, drew forth from the meetingan obstreperous manifestation, part acclamation, part hisses. Theexteriors of these two men offered a contrast in keeping with that oftheir opinions.
The young Marquis of Lafayette, tall of stature, slim, urbane, presentedthe accepted type of the grand seigneur. He wore with grace his uniformof commander-in-chief of the National Guard. Booted and spurred, hissword at his side, his hat under his arm, he entered that darksome hallwhere on every face he could read the sentiments of hostility which hecalled forth; and yet he advanced with the same aristocratic ease withwhich he would have presented himself in the Oeil-de-Boeuf, or courtcircle, at Versailles. His intrepid front bespoke the man insensible todanger; his piercing yet ever indecisive and fugitive glance, revealed ahabit of conduct stamped with capability and cunning, yet always veeringwith his ambitions, and as changeable and diverse as the events whichgave them birth; finally, his smile, which was almost invariablyaffable, courteous and insinuating, seemed to be ever courtingpopularity.
Danton, though also young and of athletic build, was careless of dress.The ill-restrained mettle of his carriage, his flashing eye, hiscountenance at once sensual and bold, idealistic and tender; his robust,sanguine and exuberant make-up, all bore testimony to the mostcontradictory qualities within him,--vices and virtues; energy andweakness; appalling cruelty and inexpressible, deep-seated tenderness;pettiness and heroism.
The presence of Danton in the hall of the Jacobins reawoke, re-excitedthe people. "There is Danton! There is Danton!" were the words which ranthrough the assembly with a thrill of curiosity, sympathy andconfidence.
Danton mounted the tribunal, and in his thundering voice cried out:
"Citizens, on the result of this session hangs perhaps the safety of thecountry! The first functionary of the State has disappeared! Here, inthis meeting, are assembled the men charged with the regeneration ofFrance--some powerful in their genius, others in their influence! Francewill be saved if all internal dissension is hushed. That has not yetbeen done. Experience reveals to us the extent of our woes. I ought tospeak, I shall speak, as if I were engraving history for posterity!
"And first," pursued Danton, indicating Lafayette with a gesture ofcontempt, "and first I interpellate Monsieur Lafayette, here present. Iask him what he has come to do here--he, at the Jacobins? He the signerof so many projected laws directed against liberty! He who demanded thedissolution of the Jacobin Club, composed almost entirely, according tohim, of men without law, subsidized to perpetuate anarchy! He, whotriumphantly led the inhabitants of the suburb of St. Antoine to thedestruction of the dungeon of Vincennes, that last den of tyranny, andwho, the same evening, accorded protection to the assassins who werearmed with poniards to assist the King in his flight! Let us not deceiveourselves! That flight is the result of a conspiracy in which the publicofficials were confederates. And you, Lafayette, who answered with yourhead for the person of Louis XVI, have you paid your debt?"
In spite of this vehement apostrophe, which drew the applause of thepeople, Lafayette maintained his imperturbable coolness. He smiled, andindicated with a nod of his head that he wished to reply to the speaker.
"Citizens," continued Danton, "in order to save France, the people musttake great satisfaction, and establish radical reforms. The people istired of being braved by its enemies. It is anxious to send them back tooblivion. It is not a matter of altering the principle of theirrevocability of the Representatives of the people, but of expellingfrom the National Assembly and delivering to justice those of thedeputies who call down civil war upon France by the audacity of aninfamous rebellion. But if the voice of the defenders of the people issmothered, if our guilty officers put the country in danger, I shallappeal from them to posterity. It is for it to judge between them andme!"--
And Danton left the tribunal.
Great was the consternation of the populace, thus a second time deceivedin its hopes; for the legitimate accusations hurled by the orator atLafayette, and the vague proposition to drive the traitors from theAssembly, led to no positive measure, indicated no means of providingfor the safety of the nation.
Lafayette stepped upon the platform just vacated by Danton. Hecomfortably established himself there. Then, bowing with a grand air tothe assembly, he laid down his hat, and said in a calm voice and withaccents of perfect courtesy:
"Gentlemen, one of messieurs my predecessors did me the honor to ask whyI had come to the Jacobins. I come to them because it is to them thatall citizens should come in these times of crises and alarms. More thanever, gentlemen, must we now fight for liberty. I said among the first:'A people that wishes to become free, holds its destiny in its ownhands.' I was never more sure of liberty than after enjoying thespectacle presented to us by the capital during this day."
After a second obeisance to the audience, no less courteous than thefirst, the Marquis of Lafayette descended from the tribunal and quicklygained the door of the hall.