THE APPROACH OF WAR.
Sentiments of the King and Queen upon the Constitution.--The
Legislative Assembly.--Its democratic Spirit.--The King's
Speech.--Painful Scene.--The Queen plans Escape.--Riot in the
Theatre.--Infatuation of the Aristocrats.--Insult to the Duke
of Orleans.--Embarrassment of the Allies.--Replies to the King
from the European Powers.--The Emigrants at Coblentz.--The King's
Veto.--Letters of the King to his Brothers.--Their Replies.--Cruel
Edicts.--Pétion chosen Mayor.--The King visits the Assembly.--Rise of
the Republican Party.
The monarch of France, though deprived of absolute power, was still in
the enjoyment of extensive prerogatives. The Assembly had conferred
upon him the title of King of the French, an annual income of five
millions of dollars, the command of the armies, and the right of
suspending the national decrees. The king and queen were probably at
this time sincere in their resolve to be resigned to the change, and
to accept the Constitution. In the first interview which Bertrand de
Moleville, a Royalist whom the king had appointed Minister of Marine,
had with the king, the following remarks were made by the monarch:
"In my opinion the Constitution has serious defects, and if I had
been at liberty to address some observations to the Assembly, very
beneficial reforms might have resulted from them. But now it is too
late, and I have accepted it, such as it is. I have sworn to cause it
to be executed, and I ought to be, and will be, strictly faithful to my
oath."
"But may I be permitted," inquired the minister, "to ask your majesty
if the queen's opinion on this point agrees with the king's?"
"Yes, precisely," said the king; "she will tell you so herself."
"I went down stairs," continues Bertrand de Moleville in his
interesting narrative, "to the queen, who, after declaring with extreme
kindness that she, as well as the king, felt under much obligation to
me for having accepted the ministry under such critical circumstances,
added these words:
"'The king has acquainted you with his intentions relative to the
Constitution. Do you think that the only plan he has to follow is to
adhere to his oath?'
"'Most certainly, madam,' I replied.
"'Well, then,' said the queen, 'be assured that nothing shall induce
us to change. Come, M. Bertrand, courage! I hope that with patience,
firmness, and perseverance, all is not yet lost.'"[301]
Just before the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly, elections had
been held, in accordance with the provisions of the Constitution, to
choose the first _Legislative Assembly_. This legislature was to be
renewed every two years. No member of the Constitutional Assembly was
eligible. The Legislative Assembly, consequently, was composed mostly
of obscure men with but little political experience. They numbered
seven hundred and forty-five.
The Legislative Assembly was convened the 1st day of October, the day
after the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly, and in the hall
which had been occupied by that body.[302] At its first sitting it was
observed that the exterior aspect of the Assembly had greatly changed;
that nearly all the white heads had disappeared; and that France had
fallen into the hands of young men. Sixty of the deputies were under
twenty-six years of age. The spirit of the new Assembly was developed
in its first decrees. A deputation was sent to inform the king that the
Assembly was organized. The president of the deputation, in conformity
with court etiquette, approached the king, and, when at four paces
distance, bowed and said,
"Sire, the Assembly is formed, and has deputed us to inform your
majesty."
Upon reporting the result of their mission, some of the deputies were
offended that the ancient titles of royalty had been retained.
"I demand," cried one, "that this title of _majesty_ be no longer
employed."
"I demand," exclaimed another, "that this title of _Sire_ be abolished.
It is only an abbreviation of Seigneur, which recognizes a sovereignty
in the man to whom it is given. There is no other majesty here than
that of the law and the people. Let us leave the king no other title
than that of King of the French."
In the room there was a gilded chair, raised above the seat of the
president, which was occupied by the king when he attended the
Assembly. It had always been a respectful custom for the members to
remain uncovered when the king was present, and to stand while he
addressed them. It was the custom for the king, in addressing the
Assembly, to be seated and to wear his hat.
"Let this scandalous gilded chair be removed," another said. "Let an
equality exist between us and the king as regards ceremony. When he is
uncovered and standing, let us stand and uncover our heads. When he is
covered and seated, let us sit and wear our hats."
These decrees, abolishing the respect due to rank, and the courtesies
so essential to mitigate the ferocity of political strife, were
promptly passed. The Constitutional party throughout France were
generally mortified and alarmed, and the king was deeply wounded. He
declared that the Constitution did not require of him to expose the
monarchical dignity to insult, and that he would not preside at the
opening of the legislative body in person, but would assign the duty
to his ministers.[303] Alarmed by the decision of the king and by the
indications of public disapproval, the Assembly, after a debate of two
days, repealed the obnoxious decrees.
The Jacobins regarded the repeal as a defeat, and in the Assembly,
in their clubs, and in their journals, did what they could to rouse
the indignation of the populace. The royalist journals also united
with them in the attempt to overwhelm this return to moderation with
derision. "See," they cried, "how contemptible is this revolution; how
conscious of its own weakness. See, in two days, how often it has given
itself the lie." The Royalists still persisted in their endeavor to
goad the revolutionary party to every conceivable outrage, that Europe
might be more effectually roused to crush the Revolution.[304]
On the 7th the king proceeded to the Assembly. He was received,
apparently, with unanimous applause, some shouting energetically "_Vive
le Roi!_" and others, still more energetically, "_Vive sa majesté!_"
The king's speech was conciliatory, and was received with warm
approval. The members of the Assembly, however, retained their seats
while the king was addressing them. Louis regarded this as an insult,
and it wounded him most keenly.
The queen attended the sitting in a private box. The disrespect
with which the king was treated pierced her very soul. She sat as
in a stupor of silence, her countenance, pallid and wan, betraying
the bitterness of her anguish. The king, upon leaving the Assembly,
hastened immediately to the private apartment of the queen. He was so
pale and agitated that the queen uttered an exclamation of surprise.
The unhappy monarch threw himself upon a sofa, and, pressing a
handkerchief to his eyes, said,
"All is lost! Ah! madam, and you are witness to this humiliation. What!
you are come to France to see--"
"These words," writes Madame Campan, "were interrupted by sobs. The
queen threw herself upon her knees before him, and pressed him in her
arms. I remained with them, not from any blamable curiosity, but from
a stupefaction which rendered me incapable of determining what I ought
to do. The queen said to me, '_Oh go, go_,' with an accent which
expressed, 'Do not remain to witness the dejection and despair of your
sovereign.' I withdrew, struck with the contrast between the shouts
of joy without the palace, and the profound grief which oppressed the
sovereigns within."
The queen resolved immediately to leave Paris and to return to her
friends in Vienna, that from the heart of Austria she might plan for
the recovery of the throne. The king so far fell in with this plan
as to write a letter which M. Goguelat was to take to the emperor.
During the whole day the garden and court-yard of the Tuileries were
thronged, and the rejoicing shouts of the people filled the air. The
ignorant populace, believing that the king and the queen shared their
joy, called loudly for them to take an airing in their carriage in the
Elysian Fields. It was not deemed prudent to decline. With heavy hearts
they entered their carriage, and rode slowly along the magnificent
avenue, escorted by the officers of the Parisian army. Here a new
insult awaited them. Though they were repeatedly greeted with shouts
of "_Vive le Roi!_" a gigantic man, with stentorian voice, kept near
the carriage window, ever interrupting those shouts with the cry, "_No,
don't believe them_. _Vive la Nation!_" This one ill-omened voice,
incessantly reiterated, sank deep into their hearts, and obliterated
all impressions of public acclaim. In the deepest dejection they
returned to the palace.[305]
That night Paris blazed with illuminations, and the shouts of joyful
revelry filled all the streets; but in these resounding plaudits the
queen heard but the death-knell of the monarchy, and, in the retirement
of her boudoir, she was at midnight planning her escape from France.
It was deemed by the king and queen of the utmost importance to assume
publicly the appearance of content. A few evenings after this, the
royal family attended the Théâtre Italien. As Madame Duguzon sang the
words, "_Ah! how I love my mistress_," she turned to the royal box,
and gracefully courtesied to the queen. Immediately many Jacobins
in the pit shouted, "No mistress! no master! liberty!" This caused
others to shout, "Long live the king! long live the queen!" Still
more energetically the Jacobins replied, "No king! no queen!" In an
instant the theatre was thrown into a Babel of tumult. The infuriated
antagonists from words proceeded to blows, and a fierce fight took
place under the eyes of the royal family. News of the affray spread
rapidly through Paris, and the excitable mob was rapidly gathering,
when the royal guards surrounded the king and queen and bore them
safely to the palace. This was the last time the royal family ventured
into the theatre.[306]
The queen was all this time carrying on a private correspondence with
the foreign powers in cipher, and through her agents was conferring
with William Pitt in London. "The queen told me," writes Madam Campan,
"that her secret envoy was returned from London, and that all he had
been able to wring from Pitt, whom he found alarmingly reserved, was,
that _he would not suffer the French monarchy to fall_; that to suffer
the revolutionary spirit to erect an organized republic in France would
be a great error as regarding the tranquillity of Europe."[307]
The queen complained that she herself was greatly embarrassed by the
arrogance of the nobles. "When I do any thing," she said to Madame
Campan, "which the _noblesse_ do not like, I am treated with marked
neglect. No one will come to my card-parties, and the king is left in
solitude."[308]
The Royalists, indeed, seem to have been abandoned to utter
infatuation. They did every thing in their power to insult and
exasperate those who were not their political confederates. The Duke
of Orleans went to the Tuileries to attend the king's levee. The
courtiers who thronged the anterooms, as soon as he entered, crowded
around him, hustled him about, trod on his toes, and punched him with
their elbows. "Gentlemen," they shouted to each other, "watch the
dishes!" implying that the duke was provided with poison to sprinkle
upon the refreshments. The duke was at last compelled to retire without
seeing the royal family. The crowd followed him to the staircase,
and, as he descended, spit upon him, covering his head and clothes
with saliva. The duke supposed, though erroneously, that the king and
queen instigated this unpardonable outrage. It is not strange that
this man, when his hour of power came, voted to send the king to the
guillotine.[309]
The queen was unrelenting in her hostility to La Fayette, and often
treated him with the most irritating rudeness. "Her aversion," says
Madame Campan, "for the general increased daily, and grew so powerful
that when, toward the end of the Revolution, he seemed willing to
support the tottering throne she could never bring herself to incur
so great an obligation to him."[310] On one occasion La Fayette met
the queen in a private interview, while his aids waited for him in the
saloon. Some of the ladies of the court, to insult La Fayette and his
aids, said loudly, "_It is very alarming to see the queen alone with a
rebel and a brigand_."
The feelings of the king were now so outraged that he could not
cheerfully persevere in his resolves to maintain the new order of
affairs. The allied sovereigns were, however, so embarrassed by the
acceptance of the Constitution by the king, and by the reiterated
declaration of the king that he accepted and adopted the whole system
of governmental reform, that they hesitated for a time to carry into
execution the declaration of Pilnitz. Louis XVI. notified all the
courts of Europe of the change which had been introduced into the
government of France, and sent to them all, with much ceremonial pomp,
a copy of the Constitution elegantly engrossed upon satin paper. The
allies could no longer pretend that they were waging war against a
_revolted people_. It was now necessary, if they continued hostile, to
assail the legitimate king, and to deny, in the face of the world, that
the government of France had any right to mitigate the severity of its
despotism.
The courts of Europe were quite bewildered by the new aspect which
affairs thus assumed. It was necessary for them to take some notice
of the courteous communication which had been transmitted to them.
Leopold of Austria seemed disposed to give up the conflict, thinking
that the safety of his sister Marie Antoinette would be promoted by
peace. He therefore returned a pacific answer. Prussia and England sent
back courteous replies with assurances of their amicable intentions.
Holland, the Italian principalities, and Switzerland assumed a friendly
attitude. Russia was cold, haughty, and reserved. Gustavus of Sweden
returned the insulting reply that the King of France was a prisoner,
and that his assent to the Constitution was obtained upon compulsion,
and therefore deserved no respect from the foreign powers.[311] The
Electors of Treves and of Mentz, in whose territories the emigrants
had mostly taken refuge, returned evasive and unsatisfactory replies.
Spain, also, while declaring that she had no wish to disturb the
internal tranquillity of France, could not conceal her displeasure that
free institutions were established so near her borders.
The emigrants, however, were still rallying at Coblentz and making
formidable preparations for war. The king was vacillating. It is
certain that he sent, apparently, the most sincere injunctions to the
emigrants at Coblentz to disband and to return to France, accepting the
new order of things. It is equally certain that he kept up a private
correspondence with the emigrants, encouraging them to persevere and to
march to his rescue.[312]
This hostile gathering at Coblentz, ever threatening the kingdom with
invasion, kept France in a continual state of ferment. The Minister of
War reported to the Assembly that nineteen hundred of the officers of
the army had deserted their posts and joined the menacing foe. After a
long and very anxious debate, a decree was passed declaring that the
French emigrants assembled at Coblentz were believed to be conspiring
against France; that if, on the 1st of January next, they still
continued assembled, they should be declared guilty of conspiracy,
prosecuted as such, and punished with death; and that the revenues of
those who refused to comply with this decree should be levied, during
their lives, for the benefit of the nation, without prejudice to the
rights of wives, children, and lawful creditors.[313]
The king, on the 10th of November, returned this law with his _veto_.
It was an imposing scene. All the ministers of the king, in a body,
went to the Assembly. It was generally understood that the power of the
_veto_ was to be exercised. Breathless silence pervaded the Assembly.
The bill was returned to the president with the official formula,
"_The king will examine it_." Loud murmurs immediately rose from all
parts of the house, and the ministers retired, leaving the Assembly in
deep irritation. The conviction was strengthened that the king was in
sympathy with the conspirators.
To efface this impression the king the next day issued a proclamation
to the emigrants exhorting them to cease to harass France by their
threatening attitude, and like good citizens to return and respect
the established laws of their country. He entreated them not to compel
him to employ severe measures against them. As to the charge that he
was deprived of his liberty, he said that the _veto_ which he had just
interposed in their favor was sufficient proof of the freedom of his
actions. At the same time he published two very decisive letters to his
two brothers. To Louis he wrote as follows:
"Paris, November 11, 1791.
"To Louis Stanislas Xavier, French Prince, the King's Brother,--I
wrote to you, my brother, on the 16th of October last, and you ought
not to have had any doubt of my real sentiments. I am surprised that
my letter has not produced the effect which I had a right to expect
from it. In order to recall you to your duty I have used all the
arguments that ought to touch you most. Your absence is a pretext for
all the evil disposed; a sort of excise for all the deluded French,
who imagine that they are serving me by keeping all France in an
alarm and agitation, which are the torment of my life.
"The Revolution is finished. The Constitution is completed. France
wills it; I will maintain it. Upon its consolidation now depends the
welfare of the monarchy. The Constitution has conferred rights upon
you; it has attached to them one condition which you ought to lose no
time in fulfilling. Believe me, brother, and repel the doubts which
pains are taken to excite in you respecting my liberty. I am going
to prove to you, by a most solemn act, and in a circumstance which
interests you, that I can act freely. Prove to me that you are my
brother and a Frenchman by complying with my entreaties. Your proper
place is by my side; your interests, your sentiments alike urge you
to come and resume it. I invite you, and, if I may, I order you to do
so. (Signed), Louis."
In a similar strain he wrote to his brother Charles. But neither the
proclamation to the emigrants nor the letters to his brothers produced
any effect. The Count of Provence (Louis XVIII.), in his reply, said,
"The order which the letter contains for me to return and resume my
place by your majesty's person is not the free expression of your will.
My honor, my duty, nay, even my affection alike forbid me to obey."
The Count of Artois (Charles X.) replied,
"The decisions referred to in this letter have furnished me with a
fresh proof of the moral and physical captivity in which our enemies
dare to hold your majesty. After this declaration your majesty will
think it natural that, faithful to my duty and the laws of honor, I
should not obey orders evidently wrung from you by violence."
Another very serious difficulty now arose. The Constitution established
freedom of conscience and of worship. It, however, justly required that
all governmental officers should take the oath of allegiance to the
Constitution. The Church had been so long in intimate alliance with the
State, that that alliance was not severed, and the clergy, as public
functionaries who received their salaries from the national treasury,
were consequently required to take the oath. Any one was at liberty to
refuse to take this oath. By so doing he merely forfeited employment
by the nation. He was still permitted to perform the functions of the
ministry for any who were disposed to support him as their pastor.
In the Province of Vendée the majority of the clergy refused to take
the oath, and carried with them the immense majority of the simple and
superstitious peasants. The churches in which they had ministered were
immediately assigned to other priests who had taken the oath. The great
mass of the people abandoned the churches and followed their nonjuring
pastors to private houses, barns, and into the fields. Great enthusiasm
was excited, and the nonjuring priests endeavored to excite the people
against their colleagues who had taken the oath, and against the people
who accepted their ministrations. Acts of violence were frequent and
civil war was imminent.
The Legislative Assembly was alarmed, and endeavored to meet the
difficulty by adopting measures totally hostile to the free spirit of
the Constitution. They resolved that the nonjuring priests should again
be called upon to take the oath of allegiance to the Constitution;
that, if they refused, they should be not only deprived of all salary,
but should be removed from their parishes, and even imprisoned, if need
be, that they might not excite their former parishioners to civil war.
They were also forbidden to exercise the privilege of private worship.
The administrative bodies were required to transmit a list of such
priests to the Assembly, with notes relative to the conduct of each one.
These decrees were surely unconstitutional. The bishops and the priests
who were endangered by them sent to the king an earnest remonstrance
against them. Many of the most influential of the Constitutionalists
were opposed to them as both tyrannical and cruel. The king was so
moved that he said to his ministers, who coincided with him in opinion,
"They shall take my life before they shall compel me to sanction such
decrees."
The king returned the bill with his _veto_, and aggravated the odium
this would naturally excite by retaining, contrary to the solicitations
of his best friends, nonjuring ecclesiastics to perform the religious
services of his chapel. Though we can not commend the _prudence_ we
must respect the _spirit_ which impelled him to say,
"The Constitution decrees freedom of religious worship for every body.
The king is surely entitled to that liberty as much as his subjects."
All argument was on one side, but peril, more powerful than argument,
on the other. "The nonjuring priests," it was exclaimed, "are exciting
civil war. The law of self-defense renders it imperative that we should
strike them down."
Upon the completion of the Constitution, La Fayette, emulating the
character of Washington, resigned the command of the National Guard
and retired to his estates. Bailly also resigned his post as mayor of
Paris. The command of the Guard was intrusted to six generals, who were
to exercise it in rotation. A new mayor of Paris was to be chosen. La
Fayette was the candidate of the Constitutionalists, and Pétion of
that radical portion of the Republicans who were termed Jacobins. The
aristocracy, with their accustomed infatuation, supported Pétion with
their influence and with a large outlay of money. They feared that a
constitutional monarchy might be sustained, but they believed that the
Jacobins would introduce such anarchy as might secure the recall of the
old monarchy.
"The Marquis de la Fayette," said the queen, "only desires to be Mayor
of Paris that he may be _mayor of the palace_. Pétion is a Jacobin and
a Republican; but he is a fool, incapable of ever being the leader of
a party. He will be a nullity of a mayor. Besides, it is possible that
the knowledge of the interest we take in his election may bring him
over to the king."[314]
Pétion was chosen by a large majority. Bitterly did the king and queen
afterward bewail his election. But thus through all this tragedy did
they spurn those who alone had the heart and the ability to help them.
In the midst of these troubles the most alarming rumors were every day
reaching Paris respecting the threatening aspect of the emigrants. All
along the Germanic frontiers, at Strasbourg, Coblentz, Worms, they
were marshaling their battalions and collecting munitions of war.
Exasperated by these persistent and audacious threats, the Assembly
sent a deputation of twenty-four members to the king with a decree
declaring that the Electors of Treves and Mentz, and other princes
of the Germanic empire should be required to break up these hostile
assemblages formed within their territories for the invasion of France.
M. de Vaublanc, who headed the deputation, said to the king,
"Sire, if the French who were driven from their country by the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes had assembled in arms on the
frontiers, and had been protected by Germanic princes, we ask you,
sire, what would have been the conduct of Louis XIV.? Would he have
suffered these assemblages? That which he would have done for the
sake of his authority, your majesty can not hesitate to do for the
maintenance of the Constitution."
The king, anxious to regain the ground he had lost by his _veto_,
decided to go to the Assembly and reply in person to their message. On
the evening of the 14th of December, his coming having been previously
announced, he entered the hall. He was received with the most frigid
silence. His speech, however, soon enkindled enthusiasm and applause.
He assured the Assembly that he warmly sympathized with them in all
their solicitude for the honor of France, that he had already signified
to the Electors of Treves and Mentz that the continued assemblage of
troops within their borders for the invasion of France would be deemed
cause for war. He said that he had written to Leopold, the Emperor
of Germany, demanding his interference to prevent the gathering of
troops, hostile to France, within the limits of the Germanic empire,
and concluded with the declaration that he would faithfully guard the
Constitution, and that he appreciated the glory of being the king of a
free people.[315]
This speech was received with great applause, and it was immediately
voted that it should be sent to each of the eighty-three departments
of the empire. Immediately upon the king's retiring, the Count Louis
de Narbonne, minister of war, entered, and informed the Assembly that
one hundred thousand men were immediately to be assembled, by order of
the king, upon the Rhine, to repel invasion; that three generals were
appointed to command them--Luckner, Rochambeau, and La Fayette; that
he was about to set out immediately to inspect the fortresses on the
frontiers. At the same time all the diplomatic agents who were accused
of favoring the aristocratic party were removed, and more democratic
officers were appointed in their place. These measures were so popular,
and gave such evidence that the king sincerely intended to defend the
Constitution, that even the obnoxious _vetos_ were accepted without
farther murmurs.
These measures were prosecuted with vigor. Luckner and Rochambeau,
having been appointed marshals of France, hastened to the frontiers. La
Fayette soon followed them. Battalions of the National Guard escorted
him as he left Paris, and he was greeted every where with shouts of
applause.
The emigrants were unanimous in their desire for the invasion of
France, for the entire overthrow of the Constitution, and the
restoration of the Old Régime. Leopold of Austria, however, anxious
for the safety of his sister Marie Antoinette, and embarrassed by the
king's acceptance of the Constitution, was desirous of effecting some
compromise by which a constitution should be permitted to France, but
one much more aristocratic in its provisions. Gustavus of Sweden and
Catherine of Russia were eager for prompt and energetic war. Catherine
wrote a strong letter to Leopold to rouse him to action.
"The King of Prussia," she wrote, "for a mere incivility offered to
his sister, sent an army into Holland to punish the affront. And will
the Emperor of Austria patiently suffer insults and affronts to be
heaped upon his sister, the Queen of France, the degradation of her
rank and dignity, and the overthrow of the throne of a king who is his
brother-in-law and his ally?"[316]
Under this state of affairs, the French embassador, in January, 1792,
was instructed to inform the Austrian government that there was reason
to apprehend that a coalition was being formed against the sovereignty
and independence of France, and to inquire of Leopold whether he
did or did not intend to interfere against the French Revolution.
Thus pressed, the Austrian cabinet returned an answer containing the
following avowal:
"When France gave to Europe the spectacle of a lawful king forced by
atrocious violence to fly, protesting solemnly against the acquiescence
which they had extorted from him, and a little afterward stopped and
detained prisoner by his subjects--yes, it then _did_ concern the
brother-in-law and the ally of the king to invite the other powers
of Europe to join with him in a declaration to France that they all
view the cause of his most Christian majesty as their own; that they
demand that this prince and his family be set at liberty and have power
to go where they please; and they require for these royal personages
inviolability and due respect, which by the law of nature and nations
are due from subjects to their princes; that they will unite to avenge
in the most signal manner every farther attempt that may be committed,
or may be suffered to be committed, against the liberty, the honor, and
the safety of the king, the queen, and the royal family; and that,
finally, they will not acknowledge as constitutional and legally
established in France any laws but those which shall have the voluntary
acquiescence of the king, enjoying perfect liberty. But if, on the
other hand, these demands are not complied with, they will in concert
employ all the means in their reach to put a stop to the scandalous
usurpation of power which bears the appearance of an open rebellion,
and which, from the dangers of the example, it concerns all the
governments of Europe to repress."
The Republican party in the Legislative Assembly were called the
Girondists because their leaders were generally from the department
of the Gironde. The evidence to them was conclusive, and is now
universally admitted, that the king, instead of sustaining the
Constitution, was conspiring with the emigrants and the foreign powers
for its overthrow. The Girondists, thus assured that the king was
hostile to constitutional liberty while pretending that he was its
friend that he might more effectually assail it, were anxious for his
dethronement and for the establishment of a republic. Candor surely
can not censure them. Twenty-five millions of men were not bound to
place their liberties in the hands of a monarch who was conspiring with
foreign foes to enslave them anew.
The Republican party increased so rapidly and swayed such an influence
that the king was compelled early in 1792 to dismiss his Royalist
ministers, and to call into his cabinet the leaders of the Republicans,
Dumouriez, Roland, and others. He was compelled very reluctantly to
take this step, and soon by them he was compelled, with still greater
reluctance, to declare war against Austria.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 301: Bertrand de Moleville, t. vi., p. 22. See also Mémoires
de Madame Campan, t. ii., p. 161.]
[Footnote 302: "This Assembly (the Constituent) had consisted of the
most imposing body of men that had ever represented, not only France,
but the human race. The men of the Constituent Assembly were not
Frenchmen, they were universal men. They were, and they felt themselves
to be, workmen of God, called by him to restore social reason, and
found right and justice throughout the universe. The declaration of
the Rights of Man proves this. Thus there was not one of its apostles
who did not proclaim peace among the nations. Mirabeau, La Fayette,
Robespierre himself, erased war from the symbol which they presented to
the nation."--_Hist. of the Girondists, by Lamartine_, vol. i., p. 250.]
[Footnote 303: Lamartine, in cautious apology for these decrees, says,
"The people was a slave, freed but yesterday, and who still trembled at
the clank of his chains."--_Hist. of the Girondists_, vol. i., p. 210.]
[Footnote 304: "The aristocratic party preferred any thing, even the
Jacobins, to the establishment of the constitutional laws. The most
unbridled disorders seemed preferable, because they buoyed up the hope
of a total change; and, twenty times over, upon occasions when persons
but little acquainted with the secret policy of the court expressed the
apprehensions they entertained of the popular societies, the initiated
answered that a sincere Royalist ought to favor the Jacobins."--_Madame
Campan_, vol. ii., p. 162.]
[Footnote 305: "What King Louis is, and can not help being, readers
already know. A king who can not take the Constitution, nor reject the
Constitution, nor do any thing at all but miserably ask, 'What shall I
do?'"--_Carlyle, History of the French Revolution_, vol. ii., p. 22.]
[Footnote 306: The king's government hired hand-clappers and
applauders. Fifty thousand dollars a month were devoted to
paragraph-writers and journalists. Two hundred and eighty applauders
were hired at three shillings each a day to clap and shout whenever the
king made his appearance, and to crowd the galleries of the Legislative
Assembly whenever the king presented himself there. The account-books
of this expenditure still exist.--_Montgaillard_, vol. iii., p. 141.]
[Footnote 307: Madame Campan, vol. ii., p. 189.]
[Footnote 308: Id., 174.]
[Footnote 309: Bertrand Moleville, vol. i., p. 177. Bertrand was an
eye-witness of this scene, which he graphically describes.]
[Footnote 310: Madame Campan, vol. ii., p. 127.]
[Footnote 311: The Empress Catharine of Russia wrote to Marie
Antoinette a letter with her own hand, containing the following
sentence: "Kings ought to proceed in their career, undisturbed by the
cries of the people, as the moon pursues her course unimpeded by the
howling of dogs."--_Madame Campan_, vol. i., p. 207.]
[Footnote 312: Mémoires de Madame Campan, t. ii., p. 172.]
[Footnote 313: Thiers, vol. i., p. 204.]
[Footnote 314: Bertrand's Private Memoirs, vol. v., p. 106.]
[Footnote 315: There was an earnest debate in February, 1800, in the
British House of Commons as to who were the aggressors in this war. Mr.
Pitt denounced the French as the aggressors. Mr. Fox, on the contrary,
affirmed that the war was unavoidable on the part of France from the
menacing conduct of the German powers.]
[Footnote 316: Mémoires de Bouillé, p. 314.]