THE MASSACRES
The event of the 20th of June was like lightning flashing in darkness.
Instantly people saw where they were. Moderate, loyal, reasonable men,
startled at the danger of the King, smarting at the indignity he had
suffered, fearful of mob rule and mob violence, rallied to the throne,
signed petitions protesting against the event. Louis himself, realizing
that his life was in jeopardy, made appeals both to the assembly and to
his people.
The first reply to the King's appeal, unsolicited and unappreciated, came
from La Fayette. On receiving news of the event of the 20th he left his
headquarters and reached Paris on the 28th. He appealed to the assembly
and rallied the centre, still responsive if a leader could be found. He
then began to concert measures for getting control of the city by means
of the national guards. At this point, however, his scheme failed. The
Court {140} would not support him, the King too prudent, the Queen too
impolitic. Marie Antoinette herself, it is said, in her rancorous
dislike of La Fayette, gave Pétion the secret as to his contemplated use
of the national guards; and this proved fatal. Checked by the action of
the mayor and the Jacobins, unsupported by the Tuileries, La Fayette had
to abandon his efforts.
Another attempt followed. The Department of the Seine, presided by La
Rochefoucauld, tried to assert its constitutional authority over the
great city situated within its limits. It voted the suspension of
Pétion, mayor of Paris, and of Manuel, his procureur, for dereliction of
duty in failing to maintain order on the 20th of June.
The action of La Rochefoucauld in suspending Pétion took place on the 7th
of July, a moment at which the advance of the Duke of Brunswick was
momentarily expected and at which the national excitement was tending to
overpower the royalist reaction. This reaction was now checked. The
Jacobins were resolved to use mob pressure to whatever extent was
necessary for accomplishing their purpose. On the 11th they passed
through the assembly a declaration that the country was in danger, and
two days later imposed a vote quashing the {141} action of the Department
and reinstating Pétion.
The ferment now blended inextricably the war fever and the action against
the King. Volunteers were enrolling for the army. National guards were
being summoned from the provinces to renew the federation of 1791, and
the violent section of the agitators saw in these national guards the
means for pushing over the royal authority. A demonstration better
organized than that of the 20th of June, and armed, could rid France of
the Bourbon incubus. Preparations for such a demonstration were at once
taken in hand.
Among the provincial troops now assembled in or marching towards Paris,
there was no body more remarkable than the battalion of the 300
Marseillais. Like a whirlwind of patriotic emotion they swept through
France, dragging the cannon with which they meant to knock at the gates
of the Tuileries, chanting Rouget's new song forever to be associated
with the name of their own city. These Marseillais were red-hot
republicans, and in judging the political situation of that moment this
constitutes one of the salient points. The Parisian patriots were on the
whole far less republican than those of the provinces. {142} Among the
men who were organizing the new demonstration the greater part meant
nothing more than ridding themselves of Louis, of an executive officer
whom they regarded as treacherous and as secretly in league with the
enemy. What should come after him they did not much consider. In the
forming of this state of opinion the individual action of Robespierre had
played a great part. Robespierre, who feared in war the opportunity for
the soldier, saw in republicanism merely the triumph of a Cromwell; to
him La Fayette was a tangible danger, the word _republic_ an empty
formula. And so, with an influence still widening, despite his
opposition to the war, he steadily preached the doctrine that the form of
government was nothing so long as civil, social and political equality
were secured.
At the parade held on the 14th of July,--the Marseillais had not yet
arrived,--there were no cries of _Vive le roi_, and none of, _Vive la
république_, but _Vive la nation_ was the adopted formula. Yet at the
same moment Billaud-Varennes, one of the most advanced of the Jacobins,
was addressing the Club in favour of a republic; and the _fédérés_ formed
a central committee which on the 17th petitioned the {143} assembly for
the suspension of the King. To support the movement further the section
committees were decreed in continuous session, and came under the control
of the organization.
On the 30th of July, Brunswick crossed the frontier; the advance of his
columns was heralded by a proclamation or manifesto. In this document he
announced to the people of France that he entered the country as the ally
of their sovereign, and with the purpose of visiting on Paris an
"exemplary and never-to-be-forgotten vengeance . . . military execution
and total subversion," and of bringing "the guilty rebels to the death
they have deserved." Copies of the manifesto reached Paris on the 3rd of
August, with immediate effect. To Louis the Prussian general's
utterances appeared so incredible that they were promptly disavowed as a
forgery. To the people they confirmed the suspicion that had been
rankling for three long years, that had been envenomed by all the poison
of Marat. A howl of execration arose, a howl not against Brunswick but
against the inmates of the Tuileries; and in that howl the voices of the
Marseillais, who had just reached the city, were raised loudest.
{144} The inevitable result followed in just one week, a week spent in
preparations by the popular leaders. At one o'clock in the morning of
the 10th of August delegates from the sections met at the Hotel de Ville
and assumed control of the city. This body was joined by Danton, Marat
and Hébert, among others, and of these Danton more than anyone else
represented the driving power. Orders were given for ringing the tocsin.
All Paris knew the movement was coming, and understood the signal.
At the Tuileries preparations for resistance had been made. The Marquis
de Mandat took charge of the defence. He had about 1,500 well-disposed
national guards from the western or middle class districts, and about
1,000 excellent Swiss infantry of the King's household troops. These he
posted to good advantage, guarding the palace and the bridges over the
Seine to the south. For a while all went well. The insurrection began
slowly; and when it did roll up as far as the bridges Mandat's musketry
held it easily at bay.
The insurrectional Commune now realized that Mandat was a considerable
obstacle and set to work to remove him. In his official station as a
national guard commander he was {145} under the jurisdiction of the
mayor, so Pétion was made to write, ordering him to report at the Hotel
de Ville. Mandat declined to obey. The attack still hung fire. The
order was repeated. Mandat, this time, weakly allowed himself to be
persuaded into compliance. He proceeded to the Hotel de Ville,--and was
butchered on the stairs by a band of insurgents.
After the defence had lost its general, and with daylight over the scene,
events moved fast. The national guards at the palace could not be kept
to their posts in the absence of their chief and in presence of the
swelling numbers of the attackers. The defence of the bridges had to be
given up and the Swiss withdrew into the palace. A lull followed while
the insurrection gathered up its strength for the attack on the Tuileries
itself.
During that lull, at half past eight, Louis, with his family, left the
palace. He believed resistance useless; he feared a massacre might
occur; he was averse as ever to bloodshed; and so was persuaded that his
best course would be to seek refuge in the assembly.
Just as Louis left, the real attack was delivered on the palace. The
Swiss replied with musketry, sallied out, charged the insurgents {146}
and drove them across the Carrousel; then they returned, and presently
received a written order from the King bidding them not to fire. This
momentarily paralyzed the defence. The insurgents, led by the provincial
_fédérés_, were not yet beaten, but flowed back once more to the attack.
Some field pieces which they had, breached the palace doors, a sharp
struggle followed, and soon the insurgents had got a foothold. What
followed was a massacre. Many of the Swiss were cut down in the
corridors and rooms of the palace. Others were mown down by musketry
trying to escape across the Tuileries gardens. A few got away and sought
refuge in a near-by church, but were there overtaken by the popular fury,
and butchered. The rage of the people was unbridled, and success turned
it into ferocity, even bestiality. The bodies of the Swiss were
mutilated in an atrocious fashion.
While the triumphant insurgents were sacking the palace and committing
their barbarities on the unfortunate Swiss, Louis and his family remained
unmolested in the assembly. They were to remain there for three days
while their fate was being decided, temporary accommodation being found
for them. The situation was really this, that no party was yet {147}
quite prepared for the destruction of the King himself, only of the royal
power. The assembly which, a year earlier, had assumed the position that
the King was necessary to the constitution had now virtually abandoned
it, and the Commune, while going much further than the assembly, was not
yet ready to strike Louis. But it did claim the custody of the royal
family, and that, after a three days' struggle, the assembly conceded.
On the 13th of August the royal family went to imprisonment in the
Temple, a small mediaeval dungeon in the central quarter of Paris.
Only about three hundred members of the assembly were present to face the
storm when Louis sought refuge in its midst. Vergniaud was president.
Presently the Commune sent a request that the assembly should depose the
King. Vergniaud thereupon proposed a middle course; the assembly could
suspend the King from his functions and call together a convention to
solve the constitutional question that the suspension of the Executive
presented; in the meanwhile ministers elected by the assembly should
constitute a provisional Executive Council. These proposals were
carried, and the Executive Council was elected; it contained most of the
members of the {148} Brissotin ministry, but with a new member. At the
head of the poll was Danton, and Danton was made Minister of Justice.
Danton now clearly appears as the man of the situation. The people had
triumphed, and Danton was the statesman of the people. He bridged the
gap between the Commune and the assembly. He gave rein to the popular
fury and to the destruction of every anti-popular influence, and he
attempted, by placing himself at the head of the flood, to direct it
against the great external danger that menaced France.
On the 11th of August the assembly decreed that universal suffrage should
be put in force for the elections to the convention. Large police powers
were voted to the Commune, which Robespierre now joined; and laws were
passed aimed against those suspected of being in sympathy with the
advancing army or with Louis. The _appel nominal_ was placed in force in
many of the sections, and Danton put the machinery of his ministry at
work to reinforce these measures, to convert them to use for terrorizing
the moderates, for satisfying the popular suspicions against the
aristocrats, for weighing on the elections. The primaries were to begin
on the 27th of August, those for Paris {149} on the 2d of September; the
meeting of electors for nominating the deputies of Paris was to take
place on the 5th of September.
Meanwhile Brunswick's columns were making steady, methodical progress
through the hills of Lorraine, through the frontier belt of fortresses.
The French armies in their front were weak in numbers, even weaker in
leadership. La Fayette, who had attempted to reaffirm the constitution
on hearing of the event of the 10th of August, deemed it prudent to ride
over the frontier when commissioners of the assembly reached his camp; he
was seized as a prisoner by the allies to remain their captive for many
years. On the 20th the Prussian guns opened on Longwy; on the 23rd it
surrendered. On the 30th the siege of Verdun was begun, Verdun which
Louis had so nearly reached the year before. It was generally known that
the fortress could not stand more than a few days. Between it and Paris
there was only the Argonne, a few miles of hilly passes, and then 100
miles of open country.
The steady advance of Brunswick drove Paris into a state approaching
delirium. On the news of the fall of Longwy reaching the city, the
extremists, their appetites whetted by {150} the butchery of the Swiss,
began to plot a massacre of the political prisoners, of the royalists, of
the suspect. On the 28th of August Danton, riding on the wings of the
storm, asked power from the Commune to carry out domiciliary visits for
the purpose of arresting suspects. This power was granted, and in three
days the prisons were filled to overflowing, priests and persons of title
being specially singled out for arrest.
By the 1st of September Paris was ready to answer the Duke of Brunswick,
was ready for the stroke that was to destroy the anti-revolutionists,
that was to strike terror to the hearts of all enemies of the people.
But the awfulness of the deed delayed its execution. The day passed in
high-wrought excitement; at any moment news might arrive of the fall of
Verdun,--that might be the signal for the explosion of the popular fury.
On the 2d there was still no news of Verdun, but the moment could not be
delayed much longer. In the night preparations had been made. Men to do
the business of popular execution had been approached; some had been
offered pay. The leaders were determined to carry through their
enterprise. In the assembly Danton thundered from the tribune: {151}
"Verdun has not yet surrendered. One part of the people will march to
the frontier, another will throw up intrenchments, and the rest will
defend our cities with pikes. Paris will second these great efforts.
The assembly will become a war committee. We demand that whoever refuses
to serve shall be punished by death. The tocsin you will hear presently
is not a signal of alarm; it is ringing the charge against the enemies of
our country. To conquer them we must be audacious, yet more audacious,
and still more audacious, and France is saved."
The tocsin rang, as Danton had ordered; alarm guns were fired; drummers
woke the echoes of the streets and of the squares, and presently the deed
of supreme audacity and of supreme horror began to come into being.
Crowds collected about the prisons. Groups forced a way in. More or
less improvised committees took possession, and massacre began.
The massacre of September is one of the most lurid events of the
Revolution, easier therefore for the romancist to deal with than for the
historian. Its horrors are quite beyond question. At one point,
Bicêtre, the killing continued until late on the 6th, nearly four days.
The {152} total number of victims was very large, possibly between 2,000
and 3,000. At many places the slaughter was indiscriminate, accompanied
by nameless barbarities, carried out by gangs of brutal ruffians who were
soon intoxicated with gore and with wine. But alongside of these aspects
were others more difficult to do justice to, but the careful weighing of
which is necessary if any just estimate of the event is to be reached.
The massacring was carried out by a small number of individuals, perhaps
two or three hundred in all, and of these a considerable proportion
undoubtedly acted in a spirit of blind political and social rage, and in
the belief that they were carrying out an act of justice. A large mass
of citizens gave the massacres their approval by forming crowds about the
prison doors. As to these crowds there are two salient facts. The first
is that on the first day they were large and excited, and afforded that
moral support without which the massacres could hardly have been carried
out. After the first day they diminished rapidly; and by the end of the
third day all popular support was gone, and a feeling of horror had
seized on the city and supplanted everything else. Then again the mob,
as it crowded about the {153} prison doors, showed a marked attitude.
Many of the prisoners, those who were so lucky as to pass for good
citizens and friends of the people, were released. As these came out the
crowd received them with every sign of joy and of fraternization. When
on the contrary it was a victim coming out to be slaughtered, there was
silence, no shouting, no exultation.
In other words, the event was, with most, an act of popular justice, and
this was the appearance it had even when seen from the interior of the
prisons. At l'Abbaye Maillard presided over the self-appointed tribunal,
and it is impossible to doubt that, whenever he was satisfied that the
prisoner deserved his freedom, he attempted to secure his life. The case
of St. Méard, an aristocrat, a colonel, who had enough good sense and
courage to speak plainly to the judges, avowing himself a royalist but
persuading them that he took no part in anti-revolutionary schemes, is
most illuminating. Maillard declared he saw no harm in him; he was
acquitted; and was fraternally embraced by the crowd when he safely
passed the fatal door.
All did not have the good fortune of St. Méard. The case of the
Princesse de {154} Lamballe, at La Force, must serve to give the worst
side of, and to close, this chapter of blood. Long the friend,
confidante and agent of the Queen, she had followed her to the Temple,
and had been removed from there but a few days previously. She was too
well known and too near Marie Antoinette to have any chance of escape.
In a fainting condition she was dragged before the tribunal, and was soon
passed out to the executioners. It is not probable that she had much
consciousness of what followed. The gang of murderers at this point were
butchers of the Halles, and they apparently treated their victim as they
might have a beast brought to the slaughter. She was carried under the
arms to where a pile of bodies had accumulated, and, in a moment made
ready, was butchered in the technical sense of the term. Her head was
hoisted on a pike, as also other parts of her dismembered anatomy, and
carried in triumph to be displayed under the windows of the prisoners at
the Temple.
Verdun fell on the 2d of September, at the very moment when Danton was
announcing its continued resistance. On the 5th the Duke of Brunswick
resumed his march on Paris, and {155} on the same day, the electors of
that city met and chose twenty deputies to the convention; their choice
was coloured by the fact that the massacres were still continuing. At
the head of the poll stood Robespierre; Danton was next; among the others
may be noted Camille Desmoulins, Marat, and, last of all, the duc
d'Orléans, who a few days later metamorphosed his Bourbon name into
Philippe _Egalité_.
Throughout France the electoral process was everywhere giving much the
same result. Less than one-tenth of the electors used their franchise;
and the extreme party won great successes. By the middle of September
the new deputies were reaching Paris. The _Législative_ in its last
moments was feeble and undignified. Marat threatened it with massacre,
and declared that its members were as much the enemies of the country as
were the imprisoned aristocrats. Under this menace the Législative
watched the massacres of September without raising a hand to protect its
unfortunate victims. Danton did the same. As minister of Justice the
prisoners and the tribunals were under his special charge. But although
he may have facilitated the escape of some individuals, and although he
took no direct {156} part, yet he believed that no government could be
established strong enough to save the Revolution, at such a crisis as it
had reached, save by paying this toll of blood to the suspicion, the
vengeance, the cruelty, the justice of the people. He dared to pay the
price, and later he, and he alone, dared to shoulder the responsibility.
{157}