I.
After the dispersion of the Constituent Assembly, the mission of M. and
Madame Roland having terminated, they quitted Paris. This woman, who had
just left the centre of faction and business, returned to La Platière to
resume the cares of her rustic household and the pruning of her vines.
But she had quaffed of the intoxicating cup of the Revolution. The
movement in which she had participated for a moment impelled her still,
though at a distance. She carried on a correspondence with Robespierre
and Buzot; political and formal with Robespierre, pathetic and tender
with Buzot. Her mind, her soul, her heart, all recalled it. Then took
place between herself and her husband a deliberation, apparently
impartial, in order to decide whether they should bury themselves in the
country, or should return to Paris. But the ambition of the one, and the
ardent desire of the other, had decided, unknown to, and before, either.
The most trifling pretext was sufficient for their impatience. In the
month of December they were again installed in Paris.
It was the period when all their friends arrived. Pétion had just been
elected _maire_, and was creating a republic in the _commune_.
Robespierre, excluded from the Legislative Assembly by the law which
forbade the re-election of the members of the Constituent Assembly,
found a tribune in the Jacobins. Brissot assumed Buzot's place in the
new Assembly, and his reputation, as a public writer and statesman,
brought around him and his doctrines the young Girondists, who had
arrived from their department, with the ardour of their age, and the
impulse of a second revolutionary tide. They cast themselves, on their
arrival, into the places which Robespierre, Buzot, Laclos, Danton, and
Brissot had marked out for them.
Roland, the friend of all these men, but in the back ground, and
concealed in their shadow, had one of those peculiar reputations, the
more potent over opinion, as it made but little display: it was spoken
of as though an antique virtue, beneath the simple appearance of a
rustic: he was the Siéyès of his party. Beneath his taciturnity his deep
thought was assured, and in his mystery the oracle was accredited. The
brilliancy and genius of his wife attracted all eyes towards him: his
very mediocrity, the only power that has the virtue of neutralising
envy, was of service to him. As no one feared him, every body thrust him
forward--Pétion as a cover for himself--Robespierre to undermine
him--Brissot to put his own villanous reputation under the shelter of
proverbial probity--Buzot, Vergniaud, Louvet, Gensonné, and the
Girondists, from respect for his science, and the attraction towards
Madame Roland; even the Court, from confidence in his honesty and
contempt for his influence. This man advanced to power without any
effort on his own part, borne onwards by the favour of a party, by the
_prestige_ which the unknown has over opinion, by the disdain of his
opponents and the genius of his wife.
II.
The king had for some time hoped that the wrath of the Revolution would
be softened down by its triumph. Those violent acts, those stormy
oscillations between insolence and repentance, which had marked the
inauguration of the Assembly, had painfully undeceived him. His
astonished ministry already trembled before so much audacity, and in the
council avowed their incompetency. The king was desirous of retaining
men who had given him such proofs of devotion to his person. Some of
them, confidants or accomplices, served the king and queen, either by
keeping up communications with the emigrants or by their intrigues in
the interior.
M. de Montmorin, an able man, but unequal to the difficulties of the
crisis, had retired. The two principal men of the ministry were M. de
Lessart for Foreign Affairs; M. Bertrand de Molleville in the Marine
Department. M. de Lessart, placed by his position between the armed
emigrants, the impatient Assembly, undecided Europe, and the inculpated
king, could not fail to fall under his own good intentions. His plan was
to avoid war in his own country by temporising and negotiations--to
suspend the hostile demonstration of foreign power: to present to the
intimidated Assembly the king, as sole arbiter and negotiator of peace
between his people and the foreigner; and he trusted thus to adjourn the
final collisions between the Assembly and the throne, and to
re-establish the regular authority of the king by preserving peace. The
personal arrangements of the emperor Leopold aided him in his plans; he
had only to contend against the fatality which urges men and things to
their _dénouement_. The Girondists, and Brissot especially, overwhelmed
him with accusations, inasmuch as he was the man who could most retard
their triumph. By sacrificing him they could sacrifice a whole system:
their press and their harangues pointed him out to the fury of the
people;--the partisans of war marked him down as their victim. He was no
traitor--but with them to negotiate was to betray. The king, who knew he
was irreproachable and confided all his plans to him, refused to
sacrifice him to his enemies, and thus accumulated resentments against
the minister. As to M. de Molleville, he was a secret enemy of the
constitution. He advised the king to play the hypocrite, acting in the
letter, and thus to destroy the spirit, of the law,--advancing by
subterranean ways to a violent catastrophe,--when, according to him the
monarchical cause must come out victorious. Confiding in the power of
intrigue more than in the influence of opinion, seeking everywhere
traitors to the popular cause, paying spies, bargaining for consciences,
believing in no one's incorruptibility, keeping up secret intelligence
with the most violent demagogues, paying in hard money for the most
incendiary propositions under the idea of making the Revolution
unpopular from its very excesses, and filling the tribunes of the
Assembly with his agents in order to choke down with their hootings, or
render effective by their applause, the discourses of certain orators,
and thus to feign in the tribunes a false people and a false opinion;
men of small means in great matters presuming that it is possible to
deceive a nation as if it were an individual. The king, to whom he was
devoted, liked him as the depositary of his troubles, the confidant of
his relations with foreign powers, and the skilful mediator of his
negotiation with all parties. M. de Molleville thus kept himself in
well-managed balance between his favour with the king, and his
intrigues with the revolutionary party He spoke the language of the
constitution well--he had the secret of many consciences bought and paid
for.
It was between these two men that the king, in order to comply with
popular opinion, called M. de Narbonne to the ministry of war. Madame de
Stäel and the constitutional party sought the aid of the Girondists.
Condorcet, was the mediator between the two parties. Madame de
Condorcet, an exceedingly lovely woman, united with Madame de Stäel in
enthusiasm for the young minister. The one lent him the brilliancy of
her genius, the other the influence of her beauty. These two females
appeared to fuse their feelings in one common devotion for the man
honoured by their preference. Rivalry was sacrificed at the shrine of
ambition.
III.
The point of union of the Girondist party with the constitutional party,
in that combination of which M. de Narbonne's elevation was the
guarantee, was the thirst of both parties for war. The constitutional
party desired it, in order to divert internal anarchy, and dispel those
fermentations of agitation which threatened the throne. The Girondist
party desired it in order to push men's minds to extremities. It hoped
that the dangers of the country would give it strength enough to shake
the throne and produce the republican regime.
It was under these auspices that M. de Narbonne took office. He also was
desirous of war; not to overthrow the throne in whose shadow he was
born, but to dazzle and shake the nation, to hazard fortune by desperate
casts, and to replace at the head of the people under the arms of the
high military aristocracy of the country, La Fayette, Biron, Rochambeau,
the Lameths, Dillon, Custines, and himself. If victory favoured the
French flag, the victorious army, under constituent chiefs, would
control the Jacobins, strengthen the reformed monarchy, and maintain the
establishment of the two chambers; if France was destined to reverses,
unquestionably the throne and aristocracy must fall, but better to fall
nobly in a national contest of France against her enemies, than to
tremble perpetually and to perish at last in a riot by the pikes of the
Jacobins. This was the adventurous and chivalrous policy which pleased
the young men by its heroism, and the women by its _prestige_. It
betokened the high courage of France. M. de Narbonne personified it in
the council. His colleagues, MM. de Lessart and Bertrand de Molleville,
saw in him the total overthrow of all their plans. The king, as usual,
was all indecision; one step forward and one backwards; surprised by the
event in his hesitation, and thus unable to resist a shock, or himself
to give any impulse.
Beside these official councillors, certain constituents not in the
Assembly, especially the Lameths, Duport, and Barnave, were consulted by
the king. Barnave had remained in Paris some months after the
dissolution of the Constituent Assembly. He redeemed by sincere devotion
to the monarchy the blows he had previously dealt upon it. He had
measured with an eye of judgment, the rapid declivity down which the
love of popular favour had impelled him. Like Mirabeau, he wished to
pause when it was too late. Henceforth, remaining on the brink of
events, he was besieged with terror and remorse. If his intrepid heart
did not tremble for himself, the sympathy he experienced for the queen
and royal family urged him to give the king advice which had but one
fault,--it was impossible now to follow it.
These consultations, held at Adrien Duport's, the friend of Barnave and
the oracle of the party, only served to embarrass the mind of the king
with another element of hesitation. La Fayette and his friends also
added their imperious counsel. La Fayette could not believe that he was
supplanted. The national guard, which yet remained attached to him,
still credited his omnipotence,--all these men and all these parties
lent M. de Narbonne secret support. A courtier in the eyes of the court,
an aristocrat in the eyes of the nobility, a soldier in the eyes of the
army, one of the people in the eyes of the people, irresistible in the
eyes of the women, he was the minister of public hope. The Girondists
alone had an _arrière-pensée_ in their apparent favour towards him. They
elevated him to make his fall the more conspicuous: M. de Narbonne was
to them but the hand which prepared the way for their advent.
IV.
Scarcely had he taken his place in the cabinet, than this young minister
displayed all the activity, frankness, and grace of his character in the
discussion of affairs, and his intercourse with the Assembly. He
employed the system of confidence, and surprised the Assembly by his
_abandon_, and these austere and suspicious men, who had hitherto seen
nothing but deceit in the language of ministers, now yielded to the
charm of his speeches. He addressed them, not in the official and cold
language of diplomacy, but in the open and cordial tone of a patriot. He
brought the dignity of his office to the tribune; he generously assumed
all responsibility, and he professed the most cherished principles of
the people with a sincerity that precluded the possibility of suspicion.
He openly disclosed his projects, and the energy of his mind
communicated itself to those men who were the most difficult to be won
over. The nation too saw with delight an _aristocrate_ so well adapt
himself to their costume, their principles, and their passions. The
ardour of his patriotism did not suffer the impulse, that confounded in
him the king and the people, to slacken; and in the course of his short
administration he did wonders of activity. He visited and put in a state
of defence all the fortified places; raised an army, harangued the
troops; arrested the emigration of the nobility, in the name of the
common danger; nominated the generals, and summoned La Fayette,
Rochambeau, and Luckner. A patriotic sentiment, of which he was the
soul, pervaded France; by rendering the throne the centre of the
national defence, he rendered the king again popular for a short time,
and in the enthusiasm felt for their country, all parties became
reconciled. His eloquence was rapid, brilliant, and sonorous as the
clash and din of arms. This expansion of his heart was a part of his
character; he bared his breast to the eyes of his adversaries, and by
this confidence won them to his side.
The first day of his appointment to office, instead of announcing his
nomination by a letter to the president, as was customary with the other
ministers, he proceeded to the Assembly, and mounted the tribune. "I
come to offer you," said he, "the profoundest respect for the authority
with which the people have invested you; from attachment for the
constitution, to which I have sworn; a courageous love for liberty and
equality--yes, for equality, which has no longer any opponents, but
which should nevertheless possess no less energetic supporters." Two
days afterwards he gained the entire confidence of the Assembly, when
speaking of the responsibility of the ministers. "I accept," cried he,
"the definition of the situation of ministers just made, that tells us
responsibility is death. Spare no threats, no dangers. Load us with
personal fetters, but afford us the means of aiding the constitution to
progress. For my own part, I embrace this opportunity of entreating the
members of this Assembly to inform me of every thing which they deem
useful to the welfare of the nation, during my administration. Our
interests, our enemies are the same; and it is not the letter of the
constitution only that we should seek to enforce, but the spirit; we
must not seek merely to acquit ourselves, but to succeed. You will see
that the minister is convinced that there is no hope for liberty unless
it proceed through you and from you: cease then for awhile to mistrust
us, condemn us afterwards if we have merited it; but first give us with
confidence the means of serving you."
Such words as these touched even the most prejudiced, and it was
unanimously voted that the speech should be printed, and sent to all the
departments. In order to cement the reconciliation of the king and the
nation, M. de Narbonne went to the committees of the Assembly,
communicated to them his plans, discussed his measures, and won over all
to his resolutions. This government in common was the spirit of the
constitution; the other ministers saw in this the abasement of the
executive power and an abdication of royalty, whilst M. de Narbonne saw
in it the sole means of winning back public feeling to the king. Opinion
had dethroned the royalty; it was to opinion that he looked to
strengthen it, and therefore he made himself the minister of public
opinion.
At the moment when the emperor sent to the king a communication
threatening the frontiers, and the king personally informed the Assembly
of the energetic measures he had adopted, M. de Narbonne, re-entering
the Assembly after the king's departure, mounted the tribune. "I am on
the eve of quitting Paris," said he, "in order to visit our frontiers;
not that I believe the mistrust felt by the soldiers for their officers
has any foundation, but because I hope to dissipate them by addressing
all in the name of their king and their country. I will say to the
officers, that ancient prejudices and an affection for their king
carried to an excess for a time, may have excused their conduct, but
that the word treason is unknown amongst nations of honourable men. To
the soldiers, your officers who remain at the head of the army are bound
by their oath and their honour to the Revolution. The safety of the
state depends on the discipline of the army. I confide my post to the
minister of foreign affairs, and such is my confidence, such should be
the confidence of the nation in his patriotism, that I take on myself
the responsibility of all the orders that he may give in my name." M. de
Narbonne displayed on this occasion as much skill as magnanimity; he
felt that he had sufficient credit with the nation to cover the
unpopularity of his colleague, M. de Lessart, already denounced by the
Girondists, and thus placed himself between them and their victim. The
Assembly was carried away by his enthusiasm; he obtained 20,000,000 of
francs for the preparations for war, and the grade of marshal of France
for the aged Luckner. The press and the clubs themselves applauded him,
for the general eagerness for war swept away all before it, even the
resentments of faction.
One man alone of the Jacobins resisted the influence of this enthusiasm:
this man was Robespierre. Up to this time Robespierre had been merely a
discusser of ideas, a subaltern agitator, indefatigable and intrepid,
but eclipsed by other and greater names. From this day he became a
statesman; he felt his own mental strength; he based this strength on a
principle, and alone and unaided ventured to cope with the truth. He
devoted himself without regarding even the number of his adversaries,
and by exercising he doubled his force.
All the cabinets of the princes threatened by the Revolution still
debated the question of peace or war. It was discussed alike in the
councils of Louis XVI., in the meetings of parties in the Assembly, at
the Jacobins, and in the public journals. The moment was decisive, for
it was evident that the negotiation between the emperor Leopold and
France on the subject of the reception of emigrants in the states
dependent on the empire was fast drawing to a close, and that before
long the emperor would have given satisfaction to France by dispersing
these bodies of emigrés, or that France would declare war against him,
and by this declaration draw on herself the hostilities of all her
enemies at the same time. France thus would defy them all.
We have already seen that the Statesmen, and Revolutionists,
Constitutionalists, and Girondists, Aristocrats, and Jacobins, were all
in favour of war. War was, in the eyes of all, an appeal to destiny, and
the impatient spirit of France wished that it would pronounce at once,
either by victory or defeat. Victory seemed to France the sole issue by
which she could extricate herself from her difficulties at home, and
even defeat did not terrify her. She believed in the necessity of war,
and defied even death. Robespierre thought otherwise, and it is for that
reason that he was Robespierre.
He clearly comprehended two things; the first, that war was a gratuitous
crime against the people; the second, that a war, even though
successful, would ruin the cause of democracy. Robespierre looked on the
Revolution as the rigorous application of the principles of philosophy
to society. A passionate and devoted pupil of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the
_Contrat Social_ was his gospel; war, made with the blood of the people,
was in the eyes of this philosopher--what it must ever be in the eyes of
the wise--wholesale slaughter to gratify the ambition of a few, glorious
only when it is defensive. Robespierre did not consider France placed in
such a position as to render it absolutely necessary for her safety that
the human vein should be opened, whence would flow such torrents of
blood. Embued with a firm conviction of the omnipotence of the new ideas
on which he nourished faith and fanaticism within a heart closed against
intrigue, he did not fear that a few fugitive princes, destitute of
credit, and some thousand aristocratic emigrés, would impose laws or
conditions on a nation whose first struggle for liberty had shaken the
throne, the nobility, and the clergy. Neither did he think that the
disunited and wavering powers of Europe would venture to declare war
against a nation that proclaimed peace so long as we did not attack
them. But should the European cabinets be sufficiently mad to attempt
this new crusade against human reason, then Robespierre fully believed
they would be defeated, for he knew that there lies invincible force in,
the justice of a cause--that right doubles the energy of a nation, that
despair often supplies the want of weapons, and that God and men were
for the people.
He thought, moreover, that if it was the duty of France to propagate the
advantages and the light of reason and liberty, the natural and peaceful
extension of the French Revolution in the world would prove far more
infallible than our arms,--that the Revolution should be a doctrine and
not an universal monarchy realised by the sword, and that the patriotism
of nations should not coalesce against his dogmata. Their strength was
in their minds, for in his eyes the power of the Revolution lay in its
enlightenment. But he understood more: he understood that an offensive
war would inevitably ruin the Revolution, and annihilate that premature
republic of which the Girondists had already spoken to him, but which he
himself could not as yet define. Should the war be unfortunate, thought
he, Europe will crush without difficulty beneath the tread of its armies
the earliest germs of this new government, to the truth of which perhaps
a few martyrs might testify, but which would find no soil from whence to
spring anew. If fortunate, military feeling, the invariable companion of
aristocratic feeling, honour, that religion that binds the soldier to
the throne; discipline, that despotism of glory, would usurp the place
of those stern virtues to which the exercise of the constitution would
have accustomed the people,--then they would forgive every thing, even
despotism, in those who had saved them. The gratitude of a nation to
those who have led its children to victory is a pitfall in which the
people will ever be ensnared,--nay, they even offer their necks to the
yoke; civil virtues must ever fade before the brilliancy of military
exploits. Either the army would return to surround the ancient royalty
with all its strength, and France would have her Monk, or the army would
crown the most successful of its generals, and liberty would have her
Cromwell. In either case the Revolution escaped from the people, and
lay at the mercy of the soldiery, and thus to save it from war was to
save it from a snare. These reflections decided him; as yet he meditated
no violence; he but saw into the future, and read it aright. This was
the original cause of his rupture with the Girondists; their justice was
but policy, and war appeared to them politic. Just or unjust, they
wished for it as a means of destruction to the throne, of aggrandisement
for themselves. Posterity must decide, if in this great quarrel the
first blame lies on the side of the democrat, or the ambitious
Girondists. This fierce contest, destined to terminate in the death of
both parties, began on the 12th of December at a meeting of the Jacobin
Club.
V.
"I have meditated during six months, and even from the first day of the
Revolution," said Brissot, the leader of the Gironde, "to what party I
should give my support. It is by the force of reason, and by considering
facts, that I have come to the conviction that a people, who, after ten
centuries of slavery, have re-conquered liberty, have need of war. War
is necessary to consolidate liberty, and to purge the constitution from
all taint of despotism. War is necessary to drive from amongst us those
men whose example might corrupt us. You have the power of chastising the
rebels, and intimidating the world; have the courage to do so. The
emigrés persist in their rebellion, the sovereigns persist in supporting
them. Can we hesitate to attack them? Our honour, our public credit, the
necessity of strengthening our revolution, all make it imperative on us.
France would be dishonoured, did she tamely suffer the insolence and
revolt of a few factions, and outrages that a despot would not bear for
a fortnight. How shall we be looked upon? No! we must avenge ourselves,
or become the opprobrium of all the other nations. We must avenge
ourselves by destroying these herds of _brigands_, or consent to behold
faction, conspiracy, and rebellion perpetuated, and the insolence of the
aristocrats greater than ever. They rely on the army at Coblentz,--in
that they put their trust. If you would at one blow destroy the
aristocracy, destroy Coblentz, and the chief of the nation will be
compelled to reign, according to the Constitution, with us and through
us."
These words, pronounced by the statesman of the Gironde, awakened an
echo in the breast of every man, from the Jacobin Club to the extremity
of the country. The vehement applause of the tribunes was merely the
expression of that impatience to know the final decision that pervaded
all parties. Robespierre needed iron nerve and determination to confront
his friends, his enemies, and public opinion; and yet he sustained this
struggle of a single idea against all this passion for weeks. Great
convictions are indefatigable; and Robespierre, by his own unaided
exertions, balanced all France during a month. His very enemies spoke
with respect of his firmness, and those who had not the courage to
follow him, yet would have been ashamed not to esteem him. His
eloquence, which had been dry, verbose, and dialectic, now became more
elegant and more imposing. The public journals printed his speeches.
"You, O people, who do not possess the means of procuring the speeches
of Robespierre, I promise them to you," said the _Orateur du Peuple_,
the Jacobin paper. "Preserve carefully the numbers that contain these
speeches; they are masterpieces of eloquence, that should be preserved
in every family, in order to teach future generations that Robespierre
existed for the public good and the preservation of liberty."
After having exhausted every argument that philosophy, policy, and
patriotism could suggest against an offensive war, commenced by the
Gironde, and secretly fomented by the ministers, and carried on by the
generals most suspected by the people, he mounted the tribune for the
last time, against Brissot, on the night of the 13th January, and
declared his conviction against war, in a speech as admirable as it was
pathetic.
VI.
"Yes, I am vanquished; I yield to you," cried he, in a broken voice, "I
also demand war. What do I say?--I demand a war, more terrible, more
implacable than you demand. I do not demand it as an act of prudence, an
act of reason, an act of policy, but as the resource of despair. I
demand it on one condition, which doubtless you have anticipated,--for I
do not think that the advocates of war have sought to deceive us. I
demand it deadly--I demand it heroic--I demand it such as the genius of
Liberty would declare against all despotism--such as the people of the
Revolution, under their own leaders, would render it;--not such as
intriguing cowards would have it, or as the ambitious and traitorous
ministers and generals would carry it on.
"Frenchmen, heroes of the 14th of July, who, without guide or leader,
yet acquired your liberty, come forth, and let us form that army which
you tell us is destined to conquer the universe. But where is the
general, who, imperturbable defender of the rights of the people, and
born with a hatred to tyrants, has never breathed the poisonous air of
the courts, and whose virtue is attested by the hatred and disgrace of
the court; this general, whose hands, guiltless of our blood, are worthy
to bear before us the banner of freedom; where is he, this new Cato,
this third Brutus, this unknown hero? let him appear and disclose
himself, he shall be our leader. But where is he? Where are these
soldiers of the 14th of July, who laid down, in the presence of the
people, the arms furnished them by despotism. Soldiers of Châteauvieux,
where are you? Come and direct our efforts. Alas! it is easier to rob
death of its prey, than despotism of its victims. Citizens! Conquerors
of the Bastille, come! Liberty summons you, and assigns you the honour
of the first rank! They are mute. Misery, ingratitude, and the hatred of
the aristocracy, have dispersed them. And you, citizens, immolated at
the Champ-de-Mars, in the very act of a patriotic confederation, you
will not be with us. Ah, what crime had these females, these massacred
babes, committed? Good God! how many victims, and all amongst the
people--all amongst the patriots, whilst the powerful conspirators live
and triumph. Rally round us, at least you national guards, who have
especially devoted yourselves to the defence of our frontiers in this
war with which a perfidious court threatens us. Come--but how?--you are
not yet armed. During two whole years you have demanded arms, and yet
have them not. What do I say? You have been refused even uniforms, and
condemned to wander from department to department, objects of contempt
to the minister, and of derision to the patricians, who receive you
only to enjoy the spectacle of your distress. No matter; come, we will
combat naked like the American savages.
"But shall we await the orders of the war office to destroy thrones?
Shall we await the signal of the court? Shall we be commanded by these
patricians, these eternal favourites of despotism, in this war against
aristocrats and kings? No--let us march forward alone; let us be our own
leaders. But see, the orators of war stop me! Here is Monsieur Brissot,
who tells me that Monsieur le Comte de Narbonne must conduct this
affair; that we must march under the orders of Monsieur le Marquis de La
Fayette; that the executive power alone possesses the right of leading
the nation to victory and freedom. Ah, citizens, this word has dispelled
all the charm! Adieu, victory and the independence of the people; if the
sceptres of Europe ever be broken, it will not be by such hands. Spain
will continue for some time the degraded slave of superstition and
royalism. Leopold will continue the tyrant of Germany and Italy, and we
shall not speedily behold Catos or Ciceros replace the pope and the
cardinals in the conclave. I declare openly, that war, as I understand
the term--war, such as I have proposed, is impracticable. And if it be
the war of the court, of the ministers, of the patricians who affect
patriotism, that we must accept--oh, then, far from believing in the
freedom of the world, I despair of your liberty. The wisest course left
us is to defend it against the perfidy of those enemies at home who lull
you with these heroic illusions.
"I continue calmly and sorrowfully. I have proved that liberty possesses
no more deadly foe than war; I have proved that war, advised by men
already objects of suspicion, was, in the hands of the executive power,
nought save a means of annihilating the constitution, only the end of a
plot against the Revolution. Thus to favour these plans of war, under
what pretext soever, is to associate ourselves with these treasonable
plots against the Revolution. All the patriotism in the world, all the
pretended political commonplaces, cannot change the nature of things. To
inculcate, like M. Brissot and his friends, confidence in the executive
power, and to call down public favour on the generals, is to disarm the
Revolution of its last hope--the vigilance and energy of the nation. In
the horrible position in which despotism, intrigue, treason, and the
general blindness have placed us, I consult alone my head and my heart.
I respect nothing, save my country; I obey nought, save truth. I know
that some patriots blame the frankness with which I present this
discouraging future of our situation. I do not conceal my fault from
myself. Is not the truth already sufficiently guilty because it is the
truth? Ah! so that our slumbers be light, what matter, though we be
awakened by the clash of chains?--and in the quietude of slavery let us
no longer disturb the repose of these fortunate patriots. No, but let
them know that we can measure with a firm eye and steady heart the depth
of the abyss. Let us adopt the device of the palatine of Posnania--'_I
prefer the storms of liberty to the serenity of slavery_.'
"If the moment of emancipation be not yet arrived, at least we should
have the patience to await it. If this generation was but destined to
struggle in the quicksand of vice, into which despotism had plunged it;
if the theatre of our revolution was destined but to present to the eyes
of the universe a struggle between perfidy and weakness, egotism and
ambition;--the rising generation would commence the task of purifying
this earth, so sullied by vice. It would bring, not the peace of
despotism or the sterile agitations of intrigue, but fire and sword to
lay low the thrones and exterminate the oppressors. O more fortunate
posterity, thou art not stranger to us! It is for thee that we brave the
storms and the intrigues of tyranny. Often discouraged by the obstacles
that environ us, we feel the necessity of struggling for thee. Thou
shalt complete our work. Retain on thy memory the names of the martyrs
of liberty." The sentiments of Rousseau were to be traced in these
words.
VII.
Louvet, one of the friends of Brissot, felt their power, and mounted the
tribune in order to move the man who alone arrested the progress of the
Gironde. "Robespierre," said he, apostrophising him directly;
"Robespierre--you alone keep the public mind in suspense--doubtless this
excess of glory was reserved for you. Your speeches belong to
posterity, and posterity will come to judge between you and me. But you
Will mar a great responsibility by persisting in your opinions; you are
accountable to your contemporaries, and even to future generations--yes,
posterity will judge between us, unworthy as I may be of it. It will
say, a man appeared in the Constituent Assembly--inaccessible to all
passions, one of the most faithful defenders of the people--it was
impossible not to esteem and cherish his virtues--not to admire his
courage--he was adored by the people, whom he had constantly served, and
he was worthy of it. A precipice opens. Fatigued by too much labour,
this man imagined he saw peril where there was none, and did not see it
where it really was. A man of no note was present, entirely occupied
with the present moment, aided by other citizens, he perceived the
danger, and could not remain silent. He went to Robespierre, and sought
to make him touch it with his finger. Robespierre turned away his eyes,
and withdrew his hand, the stranger persisted, and saved his country."
Robespierre smiled with disdain and incredulity at these words. The
suppliant gestures of Louvet, and the adjurations of the tribunes
found-him the next morning firm and unmoved. Brissot resumed the debate
on war;--"I implore Monsieur Robespierre," said he, in conclusion, "to
terminate so unworthy a struggle, which profits alone the enemies of the
public welfare." "My surprise was extreme," cried Robespierre, "at
seeing this morning, in the journal edited by M. Brissot, the most
pompous eulogium on M. de La Fayette." "I declare," replied Brissot,
"that I am utterly ignorant of the insertion of this letter in '_Le
Patriots Français_.'" "So much the better," returned Robespierre. "I am
delighted to find that M. Brissot is not a party to any such apologies."
Their words became as bitter as their hearts, and hate became more
perceptible at every reply. The aged Dusaulx interfered, made a touching
appeal to the patriots, and entreated them to embrace. They complied. "I
have now fulfilled a duty of fraternity, and satisfied my heart," cried
Robespierre. "I have yet a more sacred debt to pay my country. All
personal regard must give place to the sacred interests of liberty and
humanity. I can easily reconcile them here with the regard and respect I
have promised to those who serve them; I have embraced M. Brissot, but
I persist in opposing him: let our peace repose only on the basis of
patriotism and virtue." Robespierre, by his very isolation, proved his
force, and obtained fresh influence over the minds of the waverers. The
papers began to side with him. Marat heaped invectives on Brissot;
Camille Desmoulins, in his pamphlets, exposed the shameful association
of Brissot, in London, with Morande, the dishonoured libellist. Danton
himself, the orator of success, fearing to be deceived by fortune,
hesitated between the Girondists and Robespierre. He remained silent for
a long time, and then made a speech full of high-sounding words, beneath
which was visible the hesitation of his convictions, and the
embarrassment of his mind.