Chapter 3.3.VII.

In Fight.

Our Republic, by paper Decree, may be “One and Indivisible;” but

what profits it while these things are? Federalists in the

Senate, renegadoes in the Army, traitors everywhere! France, all

in desperate recruitment since the Tenth of March, does not fly

to the frontier, but only flies hither and thither. This

defection of contemptuous diplomatic Dumouriez falls heavy on the

fine-spoken high-sniffing _Hommes d’état_, whom he consorted

with; forms a second epoch in their destinies.

Or perhaps more strictly we might say, the second Girondin epoch,

though little noticed then, began on the day when, in reference

to this defection, the Girondins broke with Danton. It was the

first day of April; Dumouriez had not yet plunged across the

morasses to Cobourg, but was evidently meaning to do it, and our

Commissioners were off to arrest him; when what does the Girondin

Lasource see good to do, but rise, and jesuitically question and

insinuate at great length, whether a main accomplice of Dumouriez

had not probably been—Danton? Gironde grins sardonic assent;

Mountain holds its breath. The figure of Danton, Levasseur says,

while this speech went on, was noteworthy. He sat erect, with a

kind of internal convulsion struggling to keep itself motionless;

his eye from time to time flashing wilder, his lip curling in

Titanic scorn.[639] Lasource, in a fine-spoken attorney-manner,

proceeds: there is this probability to his mind, and there is

that; probabilities which press painfully on him, which cast the

Patriotism of Danton under a painful shade; which painful shade

he, Lasource, will hope that Danton may find it not impossible to

dispel.

‘_Les Scélérats!_’ cries Danton, starting up, with clenched

right-hand, Lasource having done: and descends from the Mountain,

like a lava-flood; his answer not unready. Lasource’s

probabilities fly like idle dust; but leave a result behind them.

‘Ye were right, friends of the Mountain,’ begins Danton, ‘and I

was wrong: there is no peace possible with these men. Let it be

war then! They will not save the Republic with us: it shall be

saved without them; saved in spite of them.’ Really a burst of

rude Parliamentary eloquence this; which is still worth reading,

in the old _Moniteur!_ With fire-words the exasperated rude Titan

rives and smites these Girondins; at every hit the glad Mountain

utters chorus: Marat, like a musical _bis_, repeating the last

phrase.[640] Lasource’s probabilities are gone: but Danton’s

pledge of battle remains lying.

A third epoch, or scene in the Girondin Drama, or rather it is

but the completion of this second epoch, we reckon from the day

when the patience of virtuous Pétion finally boiled over; and the

Girondins, so to speak, took up this battle-pledge of Danton’s

and decreed Marat accused. It was the eleventh of the same month

of April, on some effervescence rising, such as often rose; and

President had covered himself, mere Bedlam now ruling; and

Mountain and Gironde were rushing on one another with clenched

right-hands, and even with pistols in them; when, behold, the

Girondin Duperret drew a sword! Shriek of horror rose, instantly

quenching all other effervescence, at sight of the clear

murderous steel; whereupon Duperret returned it to the leather

again;—confessing that he did indeed draw it, being instigated by

a kind of sacred madness, ‘_sainte fureur_,’ and pistols held at

him; but that if he parricidally had chanced to scratch the

outmost skin of National Representation with it, he too carried

pistols, and would have blown his brains out on the spot.[641]

But now in such posture of affairs, virtuous Pétion rose, next

morning, to lament these effervescences, this endless Anarchy

invading the Legislative Sanctuary itself; and here, being

growled at and howled at by the Mountain, his patience, long

tried, did, as we say, boil over; and he spake vehemently, in

high key, with foam on his lips; “whence,” says Marat, “I

concluded he had got “_la rage_,” the rabidity, or dog-madness.

Rabidity smites others rabid: so there rises new foam-lipped

demand to have Anarchists extinguished; and specially to have

Marat put under Accusation. Send a Representative to the

Revolutionary Tribunal? Violate the inviolability of a

Representative? Have a care, O Friends! This poor Marat has

faults enough; but against Liberty or Equality, what fault? That

he has loved and fought for it, not wisely but too well. In

dungeons and cellars, in pinching poverty, under anathema of men;

even so, in such fight, has he grown so dingy, bleared; even so

has his head become a Stylites one! Him you will fling to your

Sword of Sharpness; while Cobourg and Pitt advance on us,

fire-spitting?

The Mountain is loud, the Gironde is loud and deaf; all lips are

foamy. With “Permanent-Session of twenty-four hours,” with vote

by rollcall, and a dead-lift effort, the Gironde carries it:

Marat is ordered to the Revolutionary Tribunal, to answer for

that February Paragraph of Forestallers at the door-lintel, with

other offences; and, after a little hesitation, he obeys.[642]

Thus is Danton’s battle-pledge taken up: there is, as he said

there would be, “war without truce or treaty, _ni trève ni

composition_.” Wherefore, close now with one another, Formula and

Reality, in death-grips, and wrestle it out; both of you cannot

live, but only one!

The French Revolution: A History · 第 321 / 357 章