Cl-I THE WORLD'S # GREAT CLASSICS I k Timothy Dwighx D.D. LLD. Richard Henry5toddard Arthvr Richmond Marsh. AB. Pay L VAN Dyke.D.D. Albert Ellery Bergh Cc I LLV5TRATED • WITH • NEARLY TWO HVNDREDPHOTOCRAVVaES •£!€«= (^ 't INOS COLOREDPLATE5ANDFVLL- ^ic ■ PACE- PORTRAITSOf GREAT- AVTH0R5 • 'mI Clarence Cook •• Art Editor. ^ •THE- COLONIAL- PRE55 • NEW -YORK 4|o MDCCCXCIX R!0^fc^rc^r{t\rrfi\^n^rn^i??^ri^rn^tmf?T^rr^^^ THOMAS CARLYLE. Photogravure from a photograph. 5 5 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 3 \ rKMU)xova')xuu^ J J J J J J * > > > • J 1 « > » I '. •/ . • • ••! ••• • • ••• • • i • . ••• • • Copyright, 1899, By the colonial PRESS. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • c t. • • • , « « * c c SPECIAL INTRODUCTION IN Dumfriesshire, among the Scotch mists and heather, there is a little hamlet called Ecclefechan ; and in Eccle- fechan there is a peasant's cottage, wherein, on the bitter pY winter night of December 4, 1795, was born a man destined to stand for many years as the foremost figure in the literary guild of Great Britain. During four score years and six he •^ lived and wrote, always striving to see the truth, and tell it •Is as he saw it ; and when at last death came to him, in the little I house at 5 Cheyne Row, where he had dwelt since 1834, in "^ the midst of London, and yet in a sort of seclusion, the name ]l of the obscure peasant child was known to every person of ^ enlightenment throughout the civilized world. Thomas Carlyle was never anything but a very poor man ; and in his beginnings he was poor indeed. At the Annan Grammar School, and at Edinburgh University, he got such education as the time permitted ; and afterwards he taught mathematics in the school, and in 1816 was a schoolmaster at Kirkcaldy, where the famous preacher Edward Irving be- <^ came his nearest friend. For the next six or eight years he *X studied law in Edinburgh, supporting himself by tutoring and » by supplying articles to encyclopaedias ; in 1824 he was enabled \^ to visit the Continent and London ; and in 1826 he was mar- ried to Jane Welsh, and they took up their abode at a house called Comely Bank in Edinburgh. But after two years there, V circumstances took them to the village of Craigenputtock, and ^ept them there six years. Carlyle had by this time made N^ himself felt in literature ; through the medium of the " Lon- v^ don Magazine " and " Eraser's " he had published several ^\n weighty essays and criticisms, largely on German literature and biography, and had written his philosophical romance of " Sartor Resartus," which received its first corrlinl recognition in this country through the agency of Ralph Waldo Emerson, iii ^ »^ j(;>i30 iv THE FRENCH REVOLUTION who afterwards became one of Carlyle's most faithful personal friends. Not until three years after its appearance in book form in Boston did it win similar honor in England. From this time forth books and pamphlets and occasional papers continued to come from him, and his influence upon his contemporaries increased. He was the Mecca of literary pilgrimages. " The French Revolution " was the first fruit of his London resi- dence, appearing in 1837. His last great work was the " His- tory of Frederick the Great," published in the years from 1858 to 1865. He was then seventy years of age, and his subsequent utterances were few and fragmentary. Carlyle was greatly influenced by the philosophy and per- sonality of Goethe and of other German writers of that epoch. The strong character and vivid individuality of his wife were also important and sometimes disturbing elements in his life. But nothing could abate the intense original flavor of the man ; he was Carlyle from first to last. In 1866 he received the high distinction of being chosen rector of Edinburgh University, and he read his address to the students on April 2d of that year. In 1874 he received the well-merited decoration of the Prussian Order of Merit. But his career was singularly de- void of external incidents and changes. His mind was its own place, and therein he fought his fight and won his triumph and underwent his sufferings. The current of his interior ex- istence rushed with force and fret, and never reached any central serenity and poise ; there was always a foam of in- dignation within him against this or that form of evil or injustice ; his conclusions were sometimes hasty and impas- sioned : he is a true inspiration to generous minds, but not always a trustworthy guide. His currents are thrilling and stimulating, and wholesome to bathe in or drink from ; but they flow headlong through devious channels to an unknown sea. In his story of the French Revolution we find him at his best and strongest, and it is that story, consequently, that we have selected as his representative volume. More than sixty years have passed since this wonderful book was written, and it still remains a unique product of human genius applied to the treatment of history. It was published in 1837, but had been in preparation during several years pre- vious ; Carlyle took up the subject immediately after finishing his romance of " Sartor Resartus," in which his philosophy of SPECIAL INTRODUCTION v man is unfolded. " The French Revolution " may, therefore, be regarded as the work of his apogee ; he was at his highest point of intellectual vitality and efificiency. His age was about -forty; the ill-health from which he sulifered had not yet left ' its mark upon his writing ; the shadow of pessimism which' L darkened his latter years had not yet become noticeable. The French Revolution, as the chief historical fact and problem of the age, had long attracted his attention and formed the theme of his meditation ; it was in that revolution that the powers of the past and the future met, and more or less blindly and helplessly dashed against each other ; the conventional sur- face of things was broken up, and what was revealed beneath could never thenceforth be forgotten : it had stamped itself forever upon the adamantine records. The convulsion, the overthrow, the upsurging, were so violent that for a time it seemed as if quite as much evil as good had been brought forth ; but as the wreck settled down and the smoke and dust drifted aside, thoughtful minds could perceive the inestimable value of the final result. Democracy was born ; and thoughj at first he might seem an invading demon from the Bottomless Pit rather than an angelic avatar from on high, yet as his features were cleared of the grime and relieved of the distor- tion attending his advent, and his relation to the evolution of the human race became apparent, it began to be understood that he was a mighty blessing in disguise : most inconvenient and uncouth for the time being, but destined to afford the ' only means whereby man could ultimately advance beyond social and moral barbarism. Among the earliest to perceive these truths was Thomas Carlyle ; and the book in which his vision is set forth profoundly affected the intellectual attitude of the world towards the revolution itself. For his " History," it will be seen, is less a narrative than an interpretation ; Car- lyle, though he will take infinite pains to secure his facts, values them only for the spiritual meaning they contain. He gives them to us, but not until they have been thoroughly fused in his own mind and their relativity and significance deter- mined. No event or trait of character, however comparatively minor, is suffered to get out upon his page until he has pri- vately cross-questioned it and sifted it down to its inmost soul. The consequence is, of course, that his book bears small re- semblance to other accounts of the same historical episode, Jc vi THE FRENCH REVOLUTION whether written before or since. Several of the latter are per- haps more accurate in their delineation of certain component - circumstances of the great Event, because their writers have had access to wider sources of information and have enjoyed opportunities of comparison and deduction which were not accessible to Carlyle ; but none of them has given the world a volume which is even approximately so alive as this of the great Scot's, and which, consequently, makes so immediate and indelible an impression on the memory. Carlyle, during his long life, wrote much, and little that he wrote will not re- pay perusal; but in this book of the "French Revolution's — if you can read but one work of his — you will find nearly all that was best and truest in him stated in a manner most forcible and convincing. You may dissent from some of his_ conclusions ; you may take exceptions — if you are a conven- tional purist, heeding form more than matter — to his singular literary style ; but no one can seriously read this book through and remain altogether the same manner of man that he was before. And it would not be hazardous to surmise that such changes as it brought about would be changes for the better. It is the truth as Carlyle saw it ; and Carlyle saw deeper and wider than all save a few men of his generation. The indi- vidual flavor of his utterance is so marked that this fact is apt to be lost sight of; but when that quaint Scotch-German dialect has ceased to ring in our ears, and the things said in it are examined on their own merits, they will be found to wear a very catholic and substantial aspect. ~ At this day, the only criticism on the book worth making is this — that the more one knows, from other sources, of the his- tory of the period, and, indeed, of all European history, the better will be his understanding and comprehension of this book. If the reader comes to it for his first information con- cerning what happened in France during the last years of the eighteenth century, he is likely to retire from the attempt im- pressed, no doubt, and edified as to many things, but upon the whole a good deal bewildered as to what the happenings in question were, and how and why they happened. Carlyle is not an annalist, not a teacher of the historical alphabet ; he as- sumes that his reader already knows something as to the out- side of events, and that he comes to him to learn what he may of the inside — the generative causes, and the relations. To a SPECIAL INTRODUCTION vii reader thus equipped, the perusal is a constant source of marvel and delight. Never, perhaps, has a historian evinced such ab- solute and instant command of his material as does Carlyle in this book. Every event is known to him as familiarly as if it belonged to his own biography ; he has fathomed every char- acter in the story as keenly and considerately as if he or she were a member of his own fireside circle. He has made all his own to the remotest roots and ramifications, and has, moreover, studied them in their similitudes and bearings. Every thing in short, has been rendered plastic and responsive to his touch ; and in treating of whatever part, the whole is before him. Therefore, he is able to tell the tale after the manner of the Greek Chorus ; we hear him describe the scene as it passes ; we seem to hear the voices of the actors as they speak, and to behold each occurrence as it passes in its living color and right proportion. And the swift commentary, the searching moral, is never lacking, yet is never forced ; until when we lay down the book, our comprehension of the theme does not merely include the immediate outlines of this particular drama of the French Revolution, but has assigned it its proper place in the history of mankind, and the evolution of government. It has become to us the explanation of the past and the prophecy of the future. p It is no exaggeration, then, to call this book wonderful ; one I of the most wonderful ever produced by a man. Go to the materials from which it was composed, and mark how the cre- ative mind, dealing with them, has brought poignant and speak- ing life out of the cerements of their mummified, incoherent death. It is a book to be studied, not simply for what its words convey as to the matter in hand, but also as an illustration of the art and power of writing: an example of what may be done with knowledge well digested, moulded into breathing and palpitating flesh and blood by humor, charity, irony, and sympathy. How rounded and firm stand out every episode and personage : casting their shadows, flashing their lights, / making firm their roots in the substance of human life! Truly a wonderful book : the fruit of genius laboring long and faith- fully, sparing no pains, negligent of no part, admitting no , superfluity. What a brain, and what a heart and force are lav- ished here ; so that one might say that the energies of the whole lifetimes of a hundred ordinarv scholars and men would viii THE FRENCH REVOLUTION not equal the energy that has gone to the making of this single work ! Here, if not elsewhere, has this " Peasant of genius " (as the English dilettantes called him) made good his claim to be the foremost man of letters of his day. J Having in view the freshness and crispness of these pages, as if struck off at a white heat, the irrestrainable utterance of in- sight and conviction, it amazes us once more to remember that the book, as we have it, is not the book as it first came from the author's hands ; after it had been written, to the last word, and stood palpable and visible, the product of how many years of ardent and arduous toil — it was suddenly destroyed — anni- hilated from the face of the earth, and must either accept anni- hilation as its final fate, or else be all rewritten (from such scat- tered notes as might survive) ! Read the book — and to do that is mental exercise enough for the ordinary mind ; then picture to yourself what it would mean to write such a book ; and then, if you can, what it would mean to re-write it ! Not to copy it : not to remodel it : but actually to go back to the place where you began years ago, and re-create the entire thing over again, from Alpha to Omega ! Would you have done it ? Would one man in ten thousand attempt it? Yet precisely this was what it was laid upon Carlyle to do, and do it he did, without a whimper or a wavering. There, if ever, were shown the cour- age and constancy of sterling manhood ; and the story is worth recalling. After finishing the book, Carlyle gave it to his friend, John Stuart Mill, to read and to pass an opinion on it. Mill was a man heedless in some of the minor duties of life ; and instead of putting this manuscript where moth nor rust could corrupt it, nor thief break through and steal it, he left it lying loose in an odd corner, where it was found by a housemaid in search of kindling to light her fire withal, and then and there burned to ashes. One tries to imagine the state of mind in which Mill, one of the most tender-hearted and sympathetic of men, went to Carlyle to tell him what had befallen. Carlyle, for all his greatness, was but a man after all ; he had his faults and foibles, was grim at times, and might be terrible in his wrath. And Mill had to tell him that the crowning work of his career was burned to ashes by the sheer carelessness of himself, to whose care it had been intrusted ! A truly terrific mission. And be it recorded to the lasting honor of both these men, that not for an instant did the event SPECIAL INTRODUCTION ix interrupt their friendship. Mill told his story ; Carlyle ac- cepted the blow manfully, and sat him down to his desk once - more. Manfully and faithfully he wrote the book again from the first word to the last ; and this is the book we hold in our hands to-day. Is the present version as good as the first, or better, or not so good ? We shall never know ; but does not the incident impart a precious quality to these pages, which had else been lacking to them, and give them a human beauty, apart from their historic value ? The book, better or worse, was duly published at last, and safe thenceforth from mortal accidents. It made its mark at once ; it gave tone to all thought upon the French Revolution for many years thereafter. Its descriptions, its epithets, its nicknames, became a part of the language. It educated the generation to which it was given, and it will give inspiration to minds of men and women for generations to come. It placed Carlyle at the head of the guild of English literature ; and though he may never have surpassed it afterwards, neither did he ever produce anything unworthy of the repute it gave him. Curious critics may pick technical flaws in it to-day; but we look in vain for the writer who can produce its fellow. It stands solitary, a landmark for many years, to be supplemented as time goes on, but not to be superseded. No one henceforth can think of the French Revolution without thinking of Car- lyle. Julian Hawthorne. CHOICE EXAMPLES OF BOOK ILLUMINATION. Fac-similes from Illurninated Manuscripts and Illustrated Books of Early Date. A PAGE FROM A TOULOUSE BREVIARY. This is a fine example from a breviary with a miniature of St. George, written in Southern France about 1400. It is written on vellum, and is generally considered to represent the perfection of French art. In delicacy and beauty it is not surpassed by any other illustration in Biblical and liturgical manuscripts. nmt{no jiumn&iligr 3- Inftuettitm'x jimimra)^niuitium tomuii: 1)118 O'^ff""' / Ojiin pjopofmnn uom Ji nfmirfd. K ffponCouu . -^^ hiOmm amiimnojif *^ mofft iiirenlixttu Om/^^'h^Jli n ! €rnt8pftDininmrpoin< ii ominioglltbpHmfiann vlvm ann fttiKiwctimiu '^3- #^ , ijn^-: ^"1 m f ^ (Tiiilt; iiiauiiinogRu ^ W7lllaiU)$ri«[Itl5f«8JU * JhrtitHtniifjOi allrt .^.'ootff . f l^nDnftffonO^iTuugm i bus nrfflntocnuji offlniim pifmrtJiiiin/ftoiTimT)? iu>:mnfiiT riliiiminiOrt piTiuif mrprojo «& jiimw^ t02iiim.(? t.K ' ^ g»i»Gm au$.jjrqiumi8Wira U»fat1crtiopina. WumirOioQDiir fiaiwftfuntn'itioaiiJte a>iuimnammr/'mpoi I jitetRmminurtiiffmm '' cui$jnmfrnuMuntn* '.'-V rH* ^ir :c'^ ri 4 a;-- V -vJ— 1 '>N ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Thomas Carlyle (Portrait) . . . Frontispiece Photogravure from a photograph A Page from a Toulouse Breviary . . . . x Fac-simile Illumination of the Fourteenth Century A Decorative Page from a Hebrew Bible . . .182 Fac-simile example of Printing and Engraving in the Fifteenth Century Episode of the Defence of Saragossa . . . .250 Photogravure from a painting THE FRENCH REVOLUTION THE BASTILLE. Diesem Ambos vergleich' ich das Land, den Hammer dem Herrscher, Und dem Volke das Blech, das in der Mitte sich kriimmt. Wehe dem armen Blech, wenn nur willkiirliche Schlage Ungewiss treffen, und nie fertig der Kessel erscheint ! Goethe. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. BOOK FIRST. DEATH OF LOUIS XV. Chapter I. — Louis the Well-Beloved. PRESIDENT RENAULT, remarking on royal Surnames of Honor how difficult it often is to ascertain not only why, but even when, they were conferred, takes occasion, in his sleek official way, to make a philosophical reflection. " The Surname of Bien-aime (Well-beloved)," says he, " which Louis XV bears, will not leave posterity in the same doubt. This Prince, in the year 1744, while hastening from one end of^ his kingdom to the other, and suspending his conquests in Flan- ders that he might fly to the assistance of Alsace, was arrested at Metz by a malady which threatened to cut short his days. At the news of this, Paris, all in terror, seemed a city taken by storm : the churches resounded with supplications and groans ; the prayers of priests and people were every moment interrupted by their sobs: and it was from an interest so dear and tender that this Surname of Bien-aimc fashioned itself, — a title higher still than all the rest which this great Prince has earned." a So stands it written; in lasting memorial of that year 1744. Thirty other years have come and gone ; and " this great Prince " again lies sick ; but in how altered circumstances now ! Churches resound not with excessive groanings ; Paris is stoic- ally calm : sobs interrupt no prayers, for indeed none are of- fered ; except Priests' Litanies, read or chanted at fixed money- rate per hour, which are not liable to interruption. The shep- herd of the people has been carried home from Little Trianon, heavy of heart, and been put to bed in his own Chateau of Ver- sailles: the flock knows it, and heeds it not. At most, in the a Abrege Chronologique de I'Histoire dc France (Paris, 1775), p. 701. 3 4 CARLYLE [i 744— 74 immeasurable tide of French Speech (which ceases not day after day, and only ebbs toward the short hours of night), may this of the royal sickness emerge from time to time as an ar- ticle of news. Bets are doubtless depending ; nay, some people " express themselves loudly in the streets."^ But for the rest, on green field and steepled city, the May sun shines out, the May evening fades ; and men ply their useful or useless business as if no Louis lay in danger. Dame Dubarry, indeed, might pray, if she had a talent for it ; Duke d'Aiguillon too, Maupeou and the Parlement Mau- peou : these, as they sit in their high places, with France har- nessed under their feet, know well on what basis they continue there. Look to it, D'Aiguillon, sharply as thou didst, from the Mill of St. Cast, on Quiberon and the invading English ; thou, " covered if not with glory yet with meal ! " Fortune was ever accounted inconstant : and each dog has but his day. Forlorn enough languished Duke d'Aiguillon, some years ago ; covered, as we said, with meal ; nay with worse. For La Chalotais, the Breton Parlementeer, accused him not only of poltroonery and tyranny, but even of concussion (official plun- der of money) ; which accusations it was easier to get " quashed " by backstairs Influences than to get answered : neither could the thoughts, or even the tongues, of men be tied. Thus, under disastrous eclipse, had this grand-nephew of the great Richelieu to glide about ; unworshipped by the world ; resolute Choiseul, the abrupt proud man, disdaining him, or even forgetting him. Little prospect but to glide into Gascony, to rebuild Chateaus there,^ and die inglorious killing game! However, in the year 1770, a certain young soldier, Dumouriez by name, returning from Corsica, could see " with sorrow, at Compiegne, the old King of France, on foot, with dofifed hat, in sight of his army, at the side of a magnificent phaeton, doing homage to the — Dubarry." d Much lay therein ! Thereby, for one thing, could D'Aiguillon postpone the rebuilding of his Chateau, and rebuild his fortunes first. For stout Choiseul would discern in the Dubarry nothing but a wonderfully dizened Scarlet-woman ; and go on his way as if she were not. Intolerable: the source of sighs, tears, of b Memoircs de M. le Baron Bcscnval (Paris, 1805), ii. 59-50. c Arthur Young, Travels during the years 1787-88-89 (Bury St. Ed- munds, 1792), i. 44. d La Vie et les Memoires du General Dumouriez (Paris, 1822), i. 141. 1744—74] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 5 pettings and poutings ; which would not end till " France " (La France, as she named her royal valet) finally mustered heart to see Choiseul ; and with that " quivering in the chin (tremblement du menton) " natural in such case/ faltered out a dismissal : dismissal of his last substantial man, but pacifica- tion of his scarlet-woman. Thus D'Aiguillon rose again, and culminated. And with him there rose Maupeou, the banisher of Parlements ; who plants you a refractory President " at Croe in Combrailles on the top of steep rocks, inaccessible except by litters," there to consider himself. Likewise there rose Abbe Terray, dissolute Financier, paying eight pence in the shilling, — so that wits exclaim in some press at the playhouse, " Where is Abbe Terray, that he might reduce us to two-thirds ! " And so have these individuals (verily by black-art) built them a Domdaniel, or enchanted Dubarrydom ; call it an Armida- Palace, where they dwell pleasantly; Chancellor Maupeou " playing blindman's-buff " with the scarlet Enchantress ; or gallantly presenting her with dwarf Negroes; — and a Most Christian King has unspeakable peace within doors, whatever he may have without. " My Chancellor is a scoundrel ; but I cannot do without him."/" Beautiful Armida-Palace, where the inmates live enchanted lives ; lapped in soft music of adulation ; waited on by the splendors of the world ; — which nevertheless hangs wondrously as by a single hair. Should the Most Christian King die ; or even get seriously afraid of dying ! For, alas, had not the fair haughty Chateauroux to fly, with wet cheeks and flaming heart, from that Fever-scene at Metz, long since ; driven forth by sour shavelings? She hardly returned, when fever and shavelings were both swept into the background. Pompadour too, when Damiens wounded Royalty " slightly, under the fifth rib," and our drive to Trianon went off futile, in shrieks and madly shaken torches, — had to pack, and be in readiness : yet did not go, the wound not proving poisoned. For his Majesty has religious faith ; believes, at least in a Devil. And now a third peril ; and who knows what may be in it For the Doctors look grave ; ask privily. If his Majesty had not the small-pox long ago? — and doubt it may have been a false kind. Yes, Maupeou, pucker those sinister brows of thine, and peer out on it with thy e Bescnval, Mhtwircs, ii. 21. / Dulaure, Histoire dc Paris (Paris, 1824), vii. 328. 6 CARLYLE [i 744— 74 malign rat-eyes : it is a questionable case. Sure only that man is mortal ; that with the life of one mortal snaps irrevocably the wonderfulest talisman, and all Dubarrydom rushes off, with tumult, into infinite Space ; and ye, as subterranean Apparitions are wont, vanish utterly, — leaving only a smell of sulphur ! These, and what holds of these may pray, — to Beelzebub, or whoever will hear them. But from the rest of France there comes, as was said, no prayer ; or one of an opposite character, " expressed openly in the streets." Chateau or Hotel, where an enlightened Philosophism scrutinizes many things, is not given to prayer : neither are Rossbach victories, Terray Finances, nor, say only " sixty thousand Lettres dc Cachet" (which is Mau- peou's share), persuasives toward that. O Renault! Prayers? From a France smitten (by black-art) with plague after plague, and lying now, in shame and pain, with a Harlot's foot on its neck, what prayer can come? Those lank scarecrows, that prowl hunger-stricken through all highways and byways of French Existence, will they pray ? The dull millions that, in the workshop or furrowfield, grind foredone at the wheel of Labor, like haltered gin-horses, if blind so much the quieter? Or they that in the Bicetre Hospital, " eight to a bed," lie waiting their manumission? Dim are those heads of theirs, dull stagnant those hearts : to them the great Sovereign is known mainly as the great Regrater of Bread. If they hear of his sickness, they will answer with a dull Tant pis pour lid; or with the question, Will he die? Yes, will he die ? that is now, for all France, the grand ques- tion, and hope; whereby alone the King's sickness has still some interest. Chapter II. — Realized Ideals. Such a changed France have we ; and a changed Louis. Changed, truly ; and further than thou yet seest ! — To the eye of History many things, in that sick-room of Louis, are now visible, which to the Courtiers there present were invisible. For indeed it is well said, " in every object there is inexhaustible meaning ; the eye sees in it what the eye brings means of see- ing." To Newton and to Newton's Dog Diamond, what a dif- ferent pair of Universes ; while the painting on the optical retina of both was, most likely, the same ! Let the Reader here, in this sick-room of Louis, endeavor to look with the mind too. 1744—74] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 7 Time was when men could (so to speak) of a given man, by nourishing and decorating him with fit appliances, to the due pitch, make themselves a King, almost as the Bees do ; and what was still more to the purpose, loyally obey him when made. The man so nourished and decorated, thenceforth named royal, does verily bear rule ; and is said, and even thought, to be, for example, " prosecuting conquests in Flanders," when he lets himself like luggage be carried thither : and no light luggage ; covering miles of road. For he has his unblushing Chateauroux, with her bandboxes and rouge-pots, at his side ; so that, at every new station, a wooden gallery must be run up between their lodgings. He has not only his Maison-Bouclic, and Valctaille without end, but his very Troop of Players, with their paste- board coulisses, thunder-barrels, their kettles, fiddles, stage- wardrobes, portable larders (and chaffering and quarrelling enough) ; all mounted in wagons, tumbrils, second-hand chaises — sufficient not to conquer Flanders, but the patience of the world. With such a flood of loud jingling appurtenances does he lumber along, prosecuting his conquests in Flanders : wonderful to behold, So nevertheless it was and had been: to some solitary thinker it might seem strange ; but even to him inevitable, not unnatural. For ours is a most fictile world ; and man is the most fingent plastic of creatures. A world not fixable ; not fathomable ! An unfathomable Somewhat, which is Not we; which we can work with, and live amidst, — and model, miraculously in our miraculous Being, and name World. — But if the very Rocks and Rivers (as Metaphysic teaches) are, in strict language, made by those outward Senses of ours, how much more, by the Inward Sense, are all Phenomena of the spiritual kind : Digni- ties, Authorities, Holies, Unholies ! Which inward sense, more- over, is not permanent like the outward ones, but forever grow- ing and changing. Does not the Black African take of Sticks and Old Clothes (say, exported Monmouth-Street cast-clothes) what will suffice, and of these, cunningly combining them, fabricate for himself an Eidolon (Idol, or Thing Seen), and name it Miimho-Jumho; which he can thenceforth pray to, with upturned awestruck eye, not without hope? The white Euro- pean mocks; but ought rather to consider; and see whether he, at home, could not do the like a little more wisely. So it was, we say, in those conquests of Flanders, thirty 8 CARLYLE [ 1744—74 years ago : but so it no longer is. Alas, much more lies sick than poor Louis : not the French King only, but the French King- / ■^' ship ; this too, after long rough tear and wear, is breaking down. The world is all so changed ; so much that seemed vigorous has sunk decrepit, so much that was not is beginning to be ! — Borne over the Atlantic, to the closing ear of Louis, King by the Grace of God, what sounds are these; muffled ominous, new in our centuries ? Boston Harbor is black with unexpected Tea: behold a Pennsylvanian Congress gather; and ere long, on Bunker Hill, Democracy announcing, in rifle-volleys death- ^ winged, under her Star-Banner, to the tune of Yankee-doodle- doo, that she is born, and, whirlwind-like, will envelop the whole world ! Sovereigns die and Sovereignties : how all dies, and is for a Time only ; is a '' Time-phantasm, yet reckons itself real ! " The Merovingian Kings, slowly wending on their bullock-carts through the streets of Paris, with their long hair flowing, have all wended slowly on — into Eternity. Charlemagne sleeps at Salzburg, with truncheon grounded ; only Fable expecting that he will awaken. Charles the Hammer, Pepin Bow-legged, where now is their eye of menace, their voice of command? RoUo and his shaggy Northmen cover not the Seine with ships ; but have sailed off on a longer voyage. The hair of Towhead ( Tete d'ctoupcs) now needs no combing ; Iron-cutter (TaiUefer) can- not cut a cobweb ; shrill Fredegonda, shrill Brunhilda have had out their hot life-scold, and lie silent, their hot life-frenzy cooled. Neither from that black Tower de Nesle descends now darkling the doomed gallant, in his sack, to the Seine waters ; plunging into Night : for Dame de Nesle now cares not for this world's gallantry, heeds not this world's scandal ; Dame de Nesle is herself gone into Night. They arc all gone; sunk — down, down, with the tumult they made ; and the rolling and the trampling of ever new generations pass over them; and they hear it not any more forever. And yet withal has there not been realized somewhat ? Con- sider (to go no further) these strong Stone-edifices, and what they hold! Mud-Town of the Borderers (Ltitetia Parisiorum or Barisioruin) has paved itself, has spread over all the Seine Islands, and far and wide on each bank, and become City of Paris, sometimes boasting to be " Athens of Europe," and even "Capital of the Universe." Stone towers from aloft; 1744—74] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 9 long-lasting, grim with a thousand years. Cathedrals are there, and a Creed (or memory of a Creed) in them; Palaces, and a State and Law. Thou seest the Smoke-vapor; unextin- guished Breath as of a thing living. Labor's thousand hammers ring on her anvils : also a more miraculous Labor works noise- lessly, not with the Hand but with the Thought. How have cunning workmen in all crafts, with their cunning head and right-hand, tamed the Four Elements to be their ministers ; yoking the Winds to their Sea-chariot, making the very Stars their Nautical Timepiece ; — and written and collected a Bihlio- theqiie du Roi; among whose Books is the Hebrew Book ! A wondrous race of creatures : these have been realized, and what of Skill is in these : call not the Past Time, with all its con- fused wretchednesses, a lost one. Observe, however, that of man's whole terrestrial posses- sions and attainments, unspeakably the noblest are his Symbols, • divine or divine-seeming; under which he marches and fights, with victorious assurance, in this life-battle: what we can call his Realized Ideals. Of which realized Ideals, omitting the rest, consider only these two : his Church, or spiritual Guidance ; his Kingship, or temporal one. The Church : what a word was there ; richer than Golconda and the treasures of the world ! In the heart of the remotest mountains rises the little Kirk ; the Dead all slumbering round it, under their white memorial- stones, " in hope of a happy resurrection : " — dull wert thou, O Reader, if never in any hour (say of moaning midnight, when such Kirk hung spectral in the sky, and Being was as if swal- lowed up of Darkness) it spoke to thee — things unspeakable, that went into thy soul's soul. Strong was he that had a Church, what we can call a Church : he stood thereby, though " in the centre of Immensities, in the conflux of Eternities," yet manlike towards God and man ; the vague shoreless Universe had be- come for him a firm city, and dwelling which he knew. Such virtue was in Belief ; in these words, well spoken : / believe. Well might men prize their Credo, and raise stateliest Temples for it, and reverend Hierarchies, and give it the tithe of their • substance; it was worth living for and dying for. Neither was that an inconsiderable moment when wild-armed men first raised their Strongest aloft on the buckler-throne, and, with clanging armor and hearts, said solemnly : Be thou our Acknowledged Strongest! In such Acknowledged Strongest lo CARLYLE [1744—74 (well named King, Kon-ning, Can-ning, or Man that was Able) what a Symbol shone now for them, — significant with the des- tinies of the world ! A Symbol of true Guidance in return for loving Obedience; properly, if he new it, the prime want of man. A Symbol which might be called sacred ; for is there not, in reverence for what is better than we, an indestructible sacred- ness? On which ground, too, it was well said there lay in the Acknowledged Strongest a divine right ; as surely there might in the Strongest, whether Acknowledged or not, — considering who it was that made him strong. And so, in the midst of confusions and unutterable incongruities (as all growth is con- fused), did this of Royalty, with Loyalty environing it, spring up; and grow mysteriously, subduing and assimilating (for a principle of Life was in it) ; till it also had grown world-great, and was among the main Facts of our modern existence. Such a Fact, that Louis XIV., for example, could answer the ex- postulatory Magistrate with his ** L'Etat c'est moi (The State? I am the State) ; " and be replied to by silence and abashed looks. So far had accident and forethought ; had your Louis Elevenths, with the leaden Virgin in their hatband, and torture- wheels and conical oubliettes (man-eating!) under their feet; your Henri-Fourths, with their prophesied social millennium, " when every peasant should have his fowl in the pot ;" and on the whole, the fertility of this most fertile Existence (named of Good and Evil) — brought it, in the matter of the Kingship. Wondrous ! Concerning which may we not again say, that in the huge mass of Evil, as it rolls and swells, there is ever some Good working imprisoned; working towards deliverance and triumph ? How such Ideals do realize themselves ; and grow, won- drously, from amid the incongruous ever-fluctuating chaos of the Actual : this is what World-History, if it teach anything, has to teach us. How they grow ; and, after long stormy growth, bloom out mature, supreme; then quickly (for the blossom is brief) fall into decay ; sorrowfully dwindle ; and crumble down, or rush down, noisily or noiselessly disappearing. The blossom is so brief ; as of some centennial Cactus-flower, which after a century of waiting shines out for hours! Thus from the day when rough Clovis, in the Champ de Mars, in sight of his whole army, had to cleave retributively the head of that rough Frank, with sudden battle-axe, and the fierce words, " It was 1744—74] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION ii thus thou clavest the vase " (St. Remi's and mine) "at Sois- sons," forward to Louis the Grand and his L'Etat c'est moi, we count some twelve hundred years : and now this the very next Louis is dying, and so much dying with him ! — Nay, thus too, if CathoHcism, with and against Feudahsm, but not against Nature and her bounty), gave us Enghsh a Shakspeare and Era of Shakspeare, and so produced a blossom of Catholicism — it was not till Catholicism itself, so far as Law could abolish it, had been abolished here. But of those decadent ages in which no Ideal either grows or blossoms ? When Belief and Loyalty have passed away, and only the cant and false echo of them remains ; and all Solem- nity has become Pageantry ; and the Creed of persons in author- ity has become one of two things : An Imbecility or a Mac- chiavelism? Alas, of these ages World-History can take no notice ; they have to become compressed more and more, and finally suppressed in the Annals of Mankind ; blotted out as spurious — which indeed they are. Hapless ages : wherein, if ever in any, it is unhappiness to be born. To be born, and to learn only, by every tradition and example, that God's Uni- verse is Belial's and a Lie; and "the Supreme Quack" the hierarch of men ! In which mournfulest faith, nevertheless, do we not see whole generations (two, and sometimes even three successively) live, what they call living; and vanish — without chance of reappearance? In such a decadent age, or one fast verging that way, had our poor Louis been born. Grant also that if the French King- ship had not, by course of Nature, long to live, he of all men was the man to accelerate Nature. The Blossom of French Royalty, cactus-like, has accordingly made an astonishing prog- ress. In those Metz days, it was still standing with all its petals, though bedimmed by Orleans Regents and Roitc Minis- ters and Cardinals; but now, in 1774, we behold it bald, and the virtue nigh gone out of it. Disastrous indeed docs it look with those same " realized ideals," one and all ! The Church, which in its palmy season, seven hundred years ago, could make an Emperor wait bare- foot, in penance-shirt, three days, in the snow, has for centuries seen itself decaying; reduced even to forget old purposes and enmities, and join interest with the Kingship: on this younger strength it would fain stay its decrepitude ; and these two will 12 CARLYLE [1744—74 4 henceforth stand and fall together. Alas, the Sorbonne still sits there, in its old mansion; but mumbles only jargon of dotage, and no longer leads the consciences of men : not the Sorbonne ; it is Encyclopcdics, Philosophic, and who knows what nameless innumerable multitude of ready Writers, profane Singers, Ro- mancers, Players, Disputators, and Pamphleteers, that now form the Spiritual Guidance of the world. The world's Practical Guidance too is lost, or has glided into the same miscellaneous hands. Who is it that the King {Able-man, named also Roi, Rex, or Director) now guides? His own huntsmen and prickers : when there is to be no hunt, it is well said, " Le Roi ne fera rien (To-day his Majesty will do nothing). ''a He livej and lingers there, because he is living there, and none has yet laid hands on him. The nobles, in like manner, have nearly ceased either to guide or misguide ; and are now, as their master is, little more than ornamental figures. It is long since they have done with butchering one another or their king : the Workers, protected, encouraged by Majesty, have ages ago built walled towns, and there ply their craft ; will permit no Robber Baron to " live by the saddle," but maintain a gallows to prevent it. Ever since that period of the Fronde, the Noble has changed his fighting sword into a court rapier ; and now loyally attends his king as ministering satellite ; divides the spoil, not now by violence and murder, but by soliciting and finesse. These men call them- selves supports of the throne : singular gilt-pasteboard carya- tides in that singular edifice! For the rest, their privileges every way are now much curtailed. That Law authorizing a Seigneur, as he returned from hunting, to kill not more than two Serfs, and refresh his feet in their warm blood and bowels, has fallen into perfect desuetude — and even into incredibility ; for if Deputy Lapoule can believe in it, and call for the abroga- tion of it, so cannot we.& No Charolois, for these last fifty years, though never so fond of shooting, has been in use to bring down slaters and plumbers, and see them roll from their roofs ;c but contents himself with partridges and grouse. Close-viewed, a Mcmoires sur la Vie privee de Marie Antoinette, par Madame Cam- pan (Paris, 1826), i. 12. b Histoirc dc la Revolution Franqaise, par Deux Amis de la Liberie (Paris, 1792), ii. 212. c Lacretelle, Histoirc de France pendant Ic iSine Sidcle (Paris, 1819), i. 271. 1744—74] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 13 their industry and function is that of dressing gracefully and eating sumptuously. As for their debauchery and depravity, it is perhaps unexampled since the era of Tiberius and Com- modus. Nevertheless, one has still partly a feeling with the lady Marechale : " Depend upon it, Sir, God thinks twice before damning a man of that quality."^ These people, of old, surely had virtues, uses; or they could not have been there. Nay, one virtue they are still required to have (for mortal man cannot live without a conscience) : the virtue of perfect readiness to fight duels. Such are the shepherds of the people : and now how fares it with the flock? With the flock, as is inevitable, it fares ill, and ever worse. They are not tended, they are only regularly shorn. The)' are sent for, to do statute-labor, to pay statute- taxes; to fatten battle-fields (named "bed of honor") with their bodies, in quarrels which are not theirs ; their hand and toil is in every possession of man ; but for themselves they have little or no possession. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed ; to pine stagnantly in thick obscuration, in squalid destitution and obstruction : this is the lot of the millions ; peuple taillabic et corveahle a merci et miscricorde. In Brittany they once rose in revolt at the first introduction of Pendulum Clocks ; thinking it had something to do with the Gabelle. Paris requires to be cleared out periodically by the Police ; and the horde of hunger- stricken vagabonds to be sent wandering again over space — for a time. '' During one such periodical clearance," says Lacretelle, " in May, 1750, the Police had presumed withal to carry off some reputable people's children, in the hope of ex- torting ransoms for them. The mothers fill the public places with cries of despair ; crowds gather, get excited ; so many women in distraction run about exaggerating the alarm : an absurd and horrid fable rises among the people ; it is said that the doctors have ordered a Great Person to take baths of young human blood for the restoration of his own, all spoiled by debaucheries. Some of the rioters," adds Lacretelle, quite coolly, " were hanged on the following days :" the Police went on."^ O ye poor naked wretches ! and this, then, is your inar- ticulate cry to Heaven, as of a dumb tortured animal, crying from uttermost depths of pain and debasement? Do these azure skies, like a dead crystalline vault, only reverberate the d Dulaure, vii. 261. e Lacretelle, iii. 175. ^>: t4 CARLYLE [1744-74 echo of it on you? Respond to it only by "hanging on the following days " ? — Not so : not forever ! Ye are heard in Heaven. And the answer too will come — in a horror of great darkness, and shakings of the world, and a cup of trembling which all the nations shall drink. Remark, meanwhile, how from amid the wrecks and dust of this universal Decay new Powers are fashioning them- selves, adapted to the new time and its destinies. Besides the old Noblesse, originally of Fighters, there is a new recog- nized Noblesse of Lawyers ; whose gala-day and proud battle- day even now is. An unrecognized Noblesse of Commerce ; powerful enough, with money in its pocket. Lastly, power- fulest of all, least recognized of all, a Noblesse of Literature ; without steel on their thigh, without gold in their purse, but with the " grand thaumaturgic faculty of Thought " in their head. French Philosophism has arisen ; in which little word how much do we include ! Here, indeed, lies properly the cardinal symptom of the whole widespread malady. Faith is gone out; Scepticism is come in. Evil abounds and accumu- lates ; no man has Faith to withstand it, to amend it, to begin by amending himself ; it must even go on accumulating. While hollow languor and vacuity is the lot of the Upper, and want and stagnation of the Lower, and universal misery is very cer- tain, what other thing is certain? That a Lie cannot be be- lieved ! Philosophism knows only this : her other belief is mainly, that in spiritual supersensual matters no Belief is possible. Unhappy! Nay, as yet the Contradiction of a Lie is some kind of a Belief; but the Lie with its Contradiction once swept away, what will remain? The five unsatiated Senses will remain, the sixth insatiable Sense (of vanity) ; the whole dccmonic nature of man will remain — hurled forth to rage blindly without rule or rein ; savage itself, yet with all the tools and weapons of civilization: a spectacle new in History. In such a France, as in a Powder-tower, where fire un- quenched and now unquenchable is smoking and smoulder- ing all round, has Louis XV. lain down to die. With Pom- padourism and Dubarryism, his Fleur-de-lis has been shame- fully struck down in all lands and on all seas ; Poverty in- vades even the Royal Exchequer, and Tax-farming can squeeze out no more ; there is a quarrel of twenty-five years' standing 1774] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 15 ,„ with the Parlement ; everywhere Want, Dishonesty, UnbeHef, "tK and hotbrained^Sciolists for state-physicians: it is a porten- tous hour. Such things can the eye of History see in this sick-room of King Louis, which were invisible to the Courtiers there. It is twenty years, gone Christmas-day, since Lord Chesterfield, summing up what he had noted of this same France, wrote, and sent off by post, the following words, that have become memorable : " In short, all the symptoms which I have ever met with in History, previous to great Changes and Revolu- tions in Government, now exist and daily increase in France."/' Chapter III. — Viaticum. For the present, however, the grand question with the Governors of France is : Shall extreme unction, or other ghostly viaticum (to Louis, not to France) be administered? It is a deep question. For, if administered, if so much as spoken of, must not, on the very threshold of the business. Witch Dubarry vanish ; hardly to return should Louis even recover? With her vanishes Duke d'Aiguillon and Company,-! and all their Armida-Palace, as was said ; Chaos swallows the I whole again, and there is left nothing but a smell of brimstone. But then, on the other hand, what will the Dauphinists and Choiseulists say? Nay what may the royal martyr himself say, should he happen to get deadly worse, without getting delirious ? For the present, he still kisses the Dubarry hand ; so we, from the anteroom, can note: but afterwards? Doctors' bulletins may run as they are ordered, but it is " confluent small-pox " — of which, as is whispered too, the Gatekeeper's once so buxom Daughter lies ill : and Louis XV. is not a man to be trifled with in his viaticum. Was he not wont to catechise his very girls in the Parc-aux-cerfs, and pray with and for them, tliat they might preserve their — orthodoxy ?g A strange fact, not an unexampled one ; for there is no animal so strange as man. For the moment, indeed, it were all well, could Archbishop Beaumont but be prevailed upon — to wink with one eye ! Alas, Beaumont would himself so fain do it: for, singular to tell, /Chesterfield's Letters: December 25th, 1753. g Dulaure (viii. 217) ; Besenval, &c. 1 6 CARLYLE [i774 the Church too, and whole posthumous hope of Jesuitism, now hangs by the apron of this same unmentionable woman. But then " the force of public opinion " ? Rigorous Christophe de Beaumont, who has spent his life in persecuting hysterical Jansenists and incredulous Non-confessors ; or even their dead bodies, if no better might be — how shall he now open Heaven's gate, and give Absolution with the corpus delicti still under his nose? Our Grand-Almoner Roche- Aymon, for his part, will not higgle with a royal sinner about turning of the key: but there are other Churchmen; there is a King's Confessor, foolish Abbe Moudon ; and Fanaticism and Decency are not yet extinct. On the whole, what is to be done ? The doors can be well watched; the Medical Bulletin adjusted; and much, as usual, be hoped for from time and chance. The doors are well watched, no improper figure can enter. Indeed, few wish to enter ; for the putrid infection reaches even to the CEil-de-Bccuf ; so that " more than fifty fall sick, and ten die." Mesdames the Princesses alone wait at the loathsome sick-bed ; impelled by filial pity. The three Prin- cesses, Graille, Chiffe, Coche (Rag, Snip, Pig, as he was wont to name them), are assiduous there; when all have fled. The fourth Princess, Loqiie (Dud), as we guess, is already in the Nunnery, and can only give her orisons. Poor Graille and Sisterhood, they have never known a Father ; such is the hard bargain Grandeur must make. Scarcely at the D chatter (when Royalty took off its boots) could they snatch up their " enor- mous hoops, gird the long train round their waists, huddle on their black cloaks of taffeta up to the very chin ;" and so, in fit appearance of full dress, " every evening at six," walk majestically in; receive their royal kiss on the brow; and then walk majestically out again, to embroidery, small-scandal, prayers, and vacancy. If Majesty came some morning, with coffee of its own making, and swallowed it with them hastily while the dogs were uncoupling for the hunt, it was received as a grace of Heaven. ^t Poor withered ancient women ! in the wild tossings that yet await your fragile existence, be- fore it be crushed and broken ; as ye fly through hostile countries, over tempestuous seas, are almost taken by the Turks ; and wholly, in the Sansculottic Earthquake, know not your right hand from your left, be this always an assured place h Campan, i. 11-36. '^^- 1774] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 17 in your remembrance : for the act was good and loving ! To us also it is a little sunny spot, in that dismal howling waste, where we hardly find another. Meanwhile, what shall an impartial prudent Courtier do? In these delicate circumstances, while not only death or life, but even sacrament or no sacrament, is a question, the skil- fulest may falter. Few are so happy as the Duke d'Orleans and the Prince de Conde ; who can themselves, with volatile salts, attend the King's antechamber; and, at the same time, send their brave sons (Duke de Chartres, Egalitc that is to be ; Duke de Bourbon, one day Conde too, and famous among Dotards) to wait upon the Dauphin. With another few, it is a resolution taken ; jacta est alea. Old Richelieu — w^hen Arch- bishop Beaumont, driven by public opinion, is at last for en- tering the sick-room — will twitch him by the rochet, into a recess ; and there, with his old dissipated mastiff-face, and the oiliest vehemence, be seen pleading (and even, as we judge by Beaumont's change of color, prevailing) " that the King be not killed by a proposition in Divinity." Duke de Fronsac, son of Richelieu, can follow his father: when the Cure of Versailles whimpers something about sacraments, he will threaten to " throw him out of the window if he mention such a thing." Happy these, we may say; but to the rest that hover be- tween two opinions, is it not trying? He who would under- stand to what a pass Catholicism, and much else, had now got ; and how the symbols of the Holiest have become gambling- dice of the Basest — must read the narrative of those things by Besenval, and Soulavie, and the other Court Newsmen of the time. He will see the Versailles Galaxy all scattered asunder, grouped into new ever-shifting Constellations. There are nods and sagacious glances ; go-betweens, silk dowagers mysteri- ously gliding, with smiles for this constellation, sighs for that: there is tremor, of hope or desperation, in several hearts. There is the pale grinning Shadow of Death, ceremoniously ushered along by another grinning Shadow, of Etiquette : at intervals the growl of Chapel Organs, like prayer by machinery ; pro- claiming, as in a kind of horrid diabolic horse-laughter, Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity! Vol. I.— 2 l8 CARLYLE [1774 Chapter IV. — Louis the Unforgotten. Poor Louis ! With these it is a hollow phantasmagory, where like mimes they mope and mowl, and utter false sounds for hire ; but with thee it is frightful earnest. Frightful to all men is Death ; from an old named King of Terrors. Our little compact home of an Existence, where we dwelt complaining, yet as in a home, is passing, in dark agonies, into an Unknown of Separation, Foreignness, uncon- ditioned Possibility. The Heathen Emperor asks of his soul: Into what places art thou now departing? The Catholic King must answer : To the Judgment-bar of the Most High God ! Yes, it is a summing-up of Life ; a final settling, and giving-in the " account of the deeds done in the body ;" they are done now ; and lie there unalterable, and do bear their fruits, long as Eternity shall last. Louis XV had always the kingliest abhorrence of Death. Unlike that praying Duke of Orleans, Egalite's grandfather — for indeed several of them had a touch of madness — who honestly believed that there was no Death ! He, if the Court Newsmen can be believed, started up once on a time, glowing with sulphurous contempt and indignation on his poor Secre- tary, who had stumbled on the words, fen rot d'Espagne (the late King of Spain) : " Feu roi. Monsieur?" — " Monseigneur," hastily answered the trembling but adroit man of business, " c'est tin litre qn'ils prennent ('tis a title they take). "a Louis, we say, was not so happy ; but he did what he could. He would not suffer Death to be spoken of ; avoided the sight of churchyards, funereal monuments, and whatsoever could bring it to mind. It is the resource of the Ostrich ; who, hard hunted, sticks his foolish head in the ground, and would fain forget that his foolish unseeing body is not unseen too. Or sometimes, with a spasmodic antagonism, significant of the same thing, and of more, he zvould go; or stopping his court carriages, would send into churchyards, and ask " how many new graves there were to-day," though it gave his poor Pom- padour the disagreeablest qualms. We can figure the thought of Louis that day, when, all royally caparisoned for hunting, ( he met, at some sudden turning in the Wood of Senart, a' a Besenval, i. 199. 1774] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 19 ragged Peasant with a cofifin : " For whom ? " — It was for a poor brother slave, whom Majesty had sometimes noticed slav- ing in those quarters. " What did he die of? " — " Of hunger:" — the King gave his steed the spur.fr But figure his thought, when Death is now clutching at his own heart-strings ; unlocked for, inexorable ! Yes, poor Louis, Death has found thee. No palace walls or life-guards, gorgeous tapestries or gilt buckram of stififest ceremonial could keep him out; but he is here, here at thy very life-breath, and will ex- tinguish it. Thou, whose whole existence hitherto was a chimera and scenic show, at length becomest a reality : sump- tuous Versailles burst asunder, like a dream, into void Im- mensity ; Time is done, and all the scaffolding of Time falls wrecked with hideous clangor round thy soul : the pale King- doms yawn open ; there must thou enter, naked, all unking'd, and await what is appointed thee! Unhappy man, there as thou turnest, in dull agony, on thy bed of weariness, what a thought is thine ! Purgatory and Hell-fire, now ail-too pos- sible, in the prospect : in the retrospect — alas, what thing didst thou do that were not better undone ; what mortal didst thou generously help; what sorrow hadst thou mercy on? Do the " five hundred thousand " ghosts, who sank shamefully on so many battle-fields from Rossbach to Quebec, that thy Harlot might take revenge for an epigram — crowd round thee in this hour? Thy foul Harem; the curses of mothers, the tears and infamy of daughters? Miserable man! thou "hast done evil as thou couldst:" thy whole existence seems one hideous abortion and mistake of Nature; the use and meaning of thee not yet known. Wert thou a fabulous Griffin, devouring the works of men ; daily dragging virgins to thy cave ; — clad also in scales that no spear would pierce : no spear but Death's ? A Grifiin not fabulous but real ! Frightful, O Louis, seem n these moments for thee. — We will pry no further into the hor- ' rors of a sinner's deathbed. And yet let no meanest man lay flattering unction to his soul. Louis was a Ruler; but art not thou also one? His wide France, look at it from the Fixed Stars (themselves not yet Infinitude), is no wider than thy narrow brickfield, where thou too didst faithfully, or didst unfaithfully. Man. " Sym- bol of Eternity imprisoned into Time ! " it is not thy works, b Campan, iii. 39. 20 CARLYLE [i774 which are all mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater than the least, but only the Spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or continuance. But reflect, in any case, what a life-problem this of poor Louis, when he rose as Bicn-Aime from that Metz sick-bed, really was ! What son of Adam could have swayed such in- coherences into coherence? Could he? Blindest fortune alone has cast Jiirn on the top of it : he swims there ; can as little sway it as the drift-log sways the wind-tossed moon stirred Atlantic. " What have I done to be so loved ? " he said then. He may say now : What have I done to be so hated ? Thou ^ hast done nothing, poor Louis ! Thy fault is properly even this, that thou didst nothing. What could poor Louis do? Ab- dicate, and wash his hands of it — in favor of the first that would accept! Other clear wisdom there was none for him. As it- was, he stood gazing dubiously, the absurdest mortal extant, a very Solecism Incarnate, into the absurdest confused world ; — wherein at last nothing seemed so certain as this. That he, the incarnate Solecism, had five senses ; that there were Flying Tables {Tables Volantes, which vanish through the floor, to come back reloaded), and a Parc-aux-cerfs. Whereby at least we have again this historical curiosity : a human being in an original position ; swimming passively, as on some boundless " Mother of Dead Dogs," towards issues which he partly saw. For Louis had withal a kind of insight in him. So, when a new Minister of Marine, or what else it might be, came announcing his new era, the Scarlet- woman would hear from the lips of Majesty at supper: "Yes, he spread out his ware like another; promised the beautifulest things in the world ; not a thing of which will come : he does not know this region; he will see." Or again: " 'Tis the twentieth time I have heard all that ; France will never get a Navy, I believe." How touching also was this: " If / were Lieutenant of Police, I would prohibit those Paris cabriolets."'^ J Doomed mortal ; — for is it not a doom to be Solecism in- carnate ! A new Roi Faineant, King Donothing ; but with the strangest new Mayor of the Palace: no bow-legged Pepin now for Mayor, but that same cloud-capt, fire-breathing Spectre of Democracy ; incalculable, which is enveloping the world ! Was Louis, then, no wickeder than this or the other pri- c Journal dc Madame de Hausset, p. 293, &c. 1774] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 21 vate Donothing and Eatall ; such as we often enough see, under the name of Man of Pleasure, cumbering God's diHgent Creation, for a time? Say, wretcheder! His Life-solecism was seen and felt of a whole scandalized world; him endless Oblivion cannot engulf, and swallow to endless depths — not yet for a generation or two. However, be this as it will, we remark, not without interest, that " on the evening of the 4th," Dame Dubarry issues from the sick-room, with perceptible " trouble in her visage." It is the fourth evening of May, year of Grace 1774. Such a whispering in the CEil-de-Boeuf I Is he dying, then? What can be said is, that Dubarry seems making up her packages ; she sails weeping through her gilt boudoirs, as if taking leave. D'Aiguillon and Company are near their last card ; never- theless they will not yet throw up the game. But as for the sacramental controversy, it is as good as settled without being mentioned ; Louis sends for his Abbe Moudon in the course-^ of the next night ; is confessed by him, some say for the space of " seventeen minutes," and demands the sacraments of his own accord. Nay already, in the afternoon, behold is not this your Sor- ceress Dubarry with the handkerchief at her eyes, mounting D'Aiguillon's chariot ; rolling ofif in his Duchess's consolatory arms ? She is gone ; and her place knows her no more. Vanish, false Sorceress ; into Space ! Needless to hover at neighbor- ing Ruel ; for thy day is done. Shut are the royal palace- gates for evermore ; hardly in coming years shalt thou, under cloud of night, descend once, in black domino, like a black night-bird, and disturb the fair Antoinette's music-party in the Park ; all Birds of Paradise frying from thee, and musical windpipes growing mute.'^ Thou unclean, yet unmalignant, not unpitiable thing! What a course was thine: from that first trucklebcd (in Joan of Arc's country) where thy mother bore thee, with tears, to an unnamed father : forward, through lowest subterranean depths, and over highest sunlit heights, of Harlotdom and Rascaldom — to the guillotine-axe, which shears away thy vainly whimpering head ! Rest there uncursed ; only buried and abolished : what else befitted thee? Louis, meanwhile, is in considerable impatience for his sacra- d Campan, i. 197. 2 2 CARLYLE [1774 ments ; sends more than once to the window, to see whether they are not coming. Be of comfort, Louis, what comfort thou canst: they are under way, those sacraments. Towards six in the morning, they arrive. Cardinal Grand-Almoner Roche- Aymon is here in pontificals, with his pyxes and his tools : he approaches the royal pillow : elevates his wafer, mutters or seems to mutter somewhat; — and so (as the Abbe Georgel, in words that stick to one, expresses it) has Louis " made the amende honorable to God :" so does your Jesuit construe it. — " IVa, IVa," as the wild Clotaire groaned out, when life was departing, " what great God is this that pulls down the strength of the strongest kings ! "e The amende honorable, what " legal apology " you will, to God : — but not, if D'Aiguillon can help it, to man. Dubarry still hovers in his mansion at Ruel ; and while there is life, there is hope. Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon, accordingly (for he seems to be in the secret), has no sooner seen his pyxes and gear repacked, than he is stepping majestically forth again, as if the work were done ! But King's Confessor Abbe Moudon starts forward ; with anxious acidulent face, twitches him by the sleeve ; whispers in his ear. Whereupon the poor Cardinal has to turn round ; and declare audibly, " That his Majesty repents of any subjects of scandal he may have given (a pu donner) ; and purposes, by the strength of Heaven assist- ing him, to avoid the like — for the future ! " Words listened to by Richelieu with mastifif-face, growing blacker ; and answered to, aloud, " with an epithet " — which Besenval will not repeat. Old Richelieu, conqueror of Minorca, companion of Flying- Table orgies, perforator of bed-room walls,/" is thy day also done? Alas, the Chapel organs may keep going ; the Shrine of Sainte-Genevieve be let down, and pulled up again — without effect. In the evening the whole Court, with Dauphin and Dauphiness, assist at the Chapel : priests are hoarse with chant- ing their " Prayers of Forty Hours ;" and the heaving bellows blow. Almost frightful ! For the very heaven blackens ; battering rain-torrents dash, with thunder ; almost drowning the organ's voice: and electric fire-flashes make the very flambeaux on the altar pale. So that the most, as we are told, more humanely, as " the masses." Masses indeed ; and yet, - singular to say, if, with an effort of imagination, thou follow them, over Broad France, into their clay hovels, into their garrets and hutches, the masses consist all of units. Every unit of whom has his own heart and sorrows ; stands covered there with his own skin, and if you prick him he will bleed. O purple Sovereignty, Holiness, Reverence ; thou, for example, Cardinal Grand-Almoner, with thy plush covering of honor, who hast thy hands strengthened with dignities and moneys, and art set on thy world watch-tower solemnly, in sight of God, for such ends — what a thought : that every unit of these masses is a miraculous Man, even as thou thyself art ; struggling, with vision or with blindness, for his infinite Kingdom (this life which he has got, once only, in the middle of Eternities) ; with a spark of the Divinity, what thou callest an immortal soul, in him ! d Besenval, ii. 282-330. e Mercier, Nouveau Paris, in. 147. /A.D. 1834. . -•■-.<• 1774—84] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 31 Dreary, languid do these struggle in their obscure remote- ness; their hearth cheerless, their diet thin. For them, in this world, rises no Era of Hope ; hardly now in the other — if it be not hope in the gloomy rest of Death, for their faith too is fail- ing. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed ! A dumb generation ; their voice only an inarticulate cry; spokesman, in the King's Council, in the world's forum, they have none that finds cre- dence. At rare intervals (as now, in 1775), they will fling down their hoes and hammers ; and, to the astonishment of thinking mankind,^ flock hither and thither, dangerous, aimless ; get the length even of Versailles. Turgot is altering the Corn- trade, abrogating the absurdest Corn-laws ; there is dearth, real, or were it even " factitious ;" an indubitable scarcity of bread. And so, on the second day of May, 1775, these waste multitudes do here, at Versailles Chateau, in wide-spread wretchedness, in sallow faces, squalor, winged raggedness, pre- sent, as in legible hieroglyphic writing, their Petition of Griev- ances. The Chateau gates have to be shut ; but the King will appear on the balcony, and speak to them. They have seen the King's face ; their Petition of Grievances has been, if not rtad, looked at. For answer, two of them are hanged, on a " new gallows forty feet high ;" and the rest driven back to their dens — for a time. Clearly a difficult "point" for Government, that of dealing with these masses — if indeed it be not rather the sole point and problem of Government, and all other points mere accidental crotchets, superficialities, and beatings of the wind ! For let Charter-Chests, Use and Wont, Law common and special say what they will, the masses count to so many millions of units ; made, to all appearance, by God — whose Earth this is declared to be. Besides, these people are not without ferocity ; they have sinews and indignation. Do but look what holiday old Marquis Mirabeau, the crabbed old Friend of Men, looked on, in these same years, from his lodging, at the Baths of Mont d'Or : " The savages descending in torrents from the moun- tains ; our people ordered not to go out. The Curate in surplus and stole ; Justice in its peruke ; Marechausee sabre in hand, guarding the place, till the bagpipes can begin. The dance in- terrupted, in a quarter of an hour, by battle; the cries, the g Lacrctellc. France f^eudaiit le i8»tf Sihle, ii. 455. Biograpliie Uiii- versclle, sec. Turgot (by Durozoir). 32 CARLYLE [1774-84 squealings of children, of infirm persons, and other assistants, tarring them on, as the rabble does when dogs fight; fright- ful men, or rather frightful wild-animals, clad in jupes of coarse woollen, with large girdles of leather studded with copper nails ; of gigantic stature, heightened by high wooden-clogs (sabots) ; > rising on tiptoe to see the fight ; tramping time to it ; rubbing their sides with their elbows: their faces haggard {figures haves), and covered with their long greasy hair; the upper part of the visage waxing pale, the lower distorting itself into the attempt at a cruel laugh and a sort of ferocious im- patience. And these people pay the taillc! And you want further to take their salt from them ! And you know what it is you are stripping barer, or as you call it, governing; what, by the spurt of your pen, in its cold dastard indifiference, you will fancy you can starve always with impunity; always till the catastrophe come ! — Ah, Madame, such Government by Blindman's-buff, stumbling along too far, will end in the General Overturn {culbute gcnerale)."h Undoubtedly, a dark feature this in an Age of Gold — Age, • at least, of Paper and Hope ! Meanwhile, trouble us not with thy prophecies, O croaking Friend of Men : 'tis long that we have heard such; and still the old world keeps wagging, in its old way. Chapter III. — Questionable. Or is this same Age of Hope itself but a simulacrum ; as Hope too often is ? Cloud-vapor with rainbows painted on it, beautiful to see, to sail towards — which hovers over Niagara Falls? In that case, victorious Analysis will have enough to do. Alas, yes ! a whole world to remake, if she could see it : work for another than she ! For all is wrong, and gone out of joint ; the inward spiritual, and the outward economical ; head or heart, there is no soundness in it. As indeed, evils of all sorts are more or less of kin, and do usually go together : especially it is an old truth, that wherever huge physical evil is, there, as the parent and origin of it, has moral evil to a proportionate extent been. iJefore those five-and-twcnty laboring Millions, for in- stance, could get that haggardness of face, which old Mirabeau h Memoircs de Mirabeau, ecrits par Lui-meme, par son Pere, son Oncic ct son Fils Adoptif (Paris, 1834-5), ii- 186. 1774—84] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 33 now looks on, in a nation calling itself Christian, and calling man the brother of man, — what unspeakable, nigh infinite Dis- honesty (of seeming and not being) in all manner of Rulers, and appointed Watchers, spiritual and temporal, must there not, through long ages, have gone on accumulating! It will ac- cumulate : moreover, it will reach a head ; for the first of all Gospels is this, that a lie cannot endure forever. In fact, if we pierce through that rosepink vapor of Senti- mentalism, Philanthropy, and Feasts of Morals, there lies be- hind it one of the sorriest spectacles. You might ask. What bonds that ever held a human society happily together, or held it together at all, are in force here ? It is an unbelieving people ; which has suppositions, hypotheses, and froth-systems of vic- torious Analysis ; and for belief this mainly, that Pleasure is pleasant. Hunger they have for all sweet things ; and the law of Hunger : but what other law ? Within them, or over them, properly none ! Their King has become a King Popinjay: with his Maure- pas Government, gyrating as the weather-cock does, blown about by every wind. Above them they see no God ; or they even do not look above, except with astronomical glasses. The .Church indeed still is ; but in the most submissive state ; quite tamed by Philosophism ; in a singularly short time ; for the hour was come. Some twenty years ago, your Archbishop Beau- mont would not even let the poor Jansenists get buried : your Lomenie Brienne (a rising man, whom we shall meet with yet) could, in the name of the Clergy, insist on having the Anti- protestant Laws, which condemn to death for preaching, " put in execution. "a And alas, now not so much as Baron Hol- bach's Atheism can be burnt, — except as pipe-matches by the private speculative individual. Our Church stands haltered, dumb, like a dumb ox ; lowing only for provender (of tithes) ; content if it can have that ; or, with dumb stupor, expecting its further doom. And the Twenty Millions of " haggard faces;" and, as finger-post and guidance to them in their dark struggle, " a gallows forty feet high ! " Certainly a singular Golden Age ; with its Feasts of Morals, its " sweet manners," its sweet insti- tutions (institutions douces); betokening nothing but peace among men! — Peace? O Philosophe-Sentimcntalism, what hast thou to do with peace, when thy mother's name is Jezebel ? a Boissy d'Anglas, Vie de Malcsherbes, i. 15-22. Vol. I— 3 34 CARLYLE li774— H Foul Product of still fouler Corruption, thou with the corrup- ■' tion art doomed ! ' Meanwhile it is singular how long the rotten will hold to- gether, provided you do not handle it roughly. For whole - generations it continues standing, " with a ghastly afifectation | of life," after all life and truth has fled out of it: so loth are men to quit their old ways ; and, conquering indolence and inertia, venture on new. Great truly is the Actual ; is the . Thing that has rescued itself from bottomless deeps of theory and possibility, and stands there as a definite indisputable Fact, whereby men do work and live, or once did so. Wisely shall men cleave to that, while it will endure ; and quit it with regret, when it gives way under them. Rash enthusiast of Change, beware ! Hast thou well considered all that Habit does in this life of ours ; how all Knowledge and all Practice hang wondrous over infinite abysses of the Unknown, Impracticable ; and our whole being is an infinite abyss, overarched by Habit, as by a thin Earth-rind, laboriously built together? But if " every man," as it has been written, " holds con- fined within him a j/zaJ-man," what must every Society do ; — Society, which in its commonest state is called " the standing miracle of this world " ! " Without such Earth-rind of Habit," continues our author, " Call its system of Habits, in a word, Hxed ways of acting and of believing — Society would not exist at all. With such it exists, better or worse. Herein, too, in this its System of Habits, acquired, retained how you will, lies the true Law-Code and Constitution of a Society ; the only Code, though an unwritten one, which it can in nowise disohey. The Thing we call written Code, Constitution, Form of Government, and the like, what is it but some miniature image, and solemnly expressed summary of this unwritten Code? /.y— or rather, alas, is not; but only should be, and always tends to be ! In which latter discrepancy lies struggle without end." And now, we add in the same dialect, let but, by ill chance, in such ever-enduring struggle — your " thin Earth-rind" be once broken! The fountains of the great deep boil forth ; fire-fountains, enveloping, engulfing. Your " Earth- rind " is shattered, swallowed up; instead of a green flowery world, there is a waste wild-weltering chaos; — which has again, with tunuilt and struggle, to make itself into a world. On the othci hand, be this conceded : Where thou findest 1774-841 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 35 a Lie that is oppressing thee, extinguish it. Lies exist there only to be extinguished; they wait and cry earnestly for ex- tinction. Think well, meanwhile, in what spirit thou wilt do it : not with hatred, with headlong selfish violence ; but in clearness of heart, with holy zeal, gently, almost with pity. Thou wouldst not replace such extinct Lie by a new Lie, which a new Injustice of thy own were ; the parent of still other Lies ? Whereby the latter end of that business were worse than the beginning. So, however, in this world of ours, which has both an inde- structible hope in the Future, and an indestructible tendency to persevere as in the Past, must Innovation and Conservation wage their perpetual conflict, as they may and can. Wherein the " d?emonic element," that lurks in all human things, may doubtless, some once in the thousand years — get vent ! But indeed may we not regret that such conflict — which, after all, is but like that classical one of " hate-filled Amazons with heroic Youths," and will end in embraces — should usually be so spasmodic? For Conservation, strengthened by that might- iest quality in us, our indolence, sits for long ages, not vic- torious only, which she should be ; but tyrannical, incommunica- tive. She holds her adversary as if annihilated ; such ad- versary lying, all the while, like some buried Enceladus ; who, to gain the smallest freedom, has to stir a whole Trinacria with its ^tnas. Wherefore, on the whole, we will honor a Paper Age too; an Era of hope! For in this same frightful process of Encela- dus Revolt ; when the task, on which no mortal would will- ingly enter, has become imperative, inevitable — is it not even a kindness of Nature that she lures us forward by cheerful promises, fallacious or not; and a whole generation plunges into the Erebus P>lackness, lighted on by an Era of Hope? It has been well said : " Man is based on Hope ; he has properly no other possession but Hope ; this habitation of his is named the Place of Hope." 36 CARLYLE [i774— 8i Chapter IV. — Maurepas. But now, among French hopes, is not that of old M. de Maurepas one of the best-grounded ; who hopes that he, by dexterity, shall contrive to continue Minister? Nimble old man, who for all emergencies has his light jest; and ever in • the worst confusion will emerge, cork-like, unsunk ! Small ■ care to him is Perfectibility, Progress of the Species, and Astrcea Redux: good only, that a man of light wit, verging towards fourscore, can in the seat of authority feel himself important among men. Shall we call him, as haughty Cha- teauroux was wont of old, " M. Faquinet (Diminutive of Scoundrel)"? In courtier dialect, he is now named "the Nestor of France ;" such governing Nestor as France has. At bottom, nevertheless, it might puzzle one to say where the Government of France, in these days, specially is. In that Chateau of Versailles, we have Nestor, King, Queen, ministers and clerks, with paper-bundles tied in tape : but the Govern- ment? For Government is a thing that governs, that guides;- and if need be, compels. Visible in France there is not such I a thing. Invisible, inorganic, on the other hand, there is : in .:-^ Philosophe saloons, in GEil-de-Boeuf galleries ; in the tongue of the babbler, in the pen of the pamphleteer. Her MajestyJ appearing at the Opera is applauded ; she returns all radiant with joy. Anon the applauses wax fainter, or threaten to cease ; she is heavy of heart, the light of her face has fled. Is Sov- ereignty some poor Montgolfier ; which, blown into by the popular wind, grows great and mounts ; or sinks flaccid, if the wind be withdrawn? France was long a " Despotism tempered by Epigrams;" and now, it would seem, the Epigrams have got the upper hand. Happy were a young " Louis the Desired " to make France happy ; if it did not prove too troublesome, and he only knew the way. But there is endless discrepancy round him ; so many claims and clamors ; a mere confusion of tongues. Not recon- cilable by man ; not manageable, suppressible, save by some strongest and wisest man ; — which only a lightly-jesting lightly- gyrating M. de Maurepas can so much as subsist amidst. Phi- losophism claims her new Era, meaning thereby innumerable things. And claims it in no faint voice ; for France at large, I774-8T] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 37 hitherto mute, is now beginning to speak also ; and speaks in that same sense. A huge, many-toned sound ; distant, yet not unimpressive. On the other hand, the CEil-de-Boeuf, which, as nearest, one can hear best, claims with shrill vehemence that the Monarchy be as heretofore a Horn of Plenty ; where- from loyal courtiers may draw — to the just support of the throne. Let Liberalism and a New Era, if such is the wish,* be introduced ; only no curtailment of the royal moneys ! Which latter condition, alas, is precisely the impossible one. Philosophism, as we saw, has got her Turgot made Con- troller-General ; and there shall be endless reformation. Un- happily this Turgot could continue only twenty months. With a miraculous Fortnnatus' Purse in his Treasury, it might have lasted longer ; with such Purse indeed, every French Controller-General, that would prosper in these days, ought first to provide himself. But here again may we not remark the bounty of Nature in regard to Hope? Man after man advances confident to the Augean Stable, as if he could clean it ; expends his little fraction of an ability on it, with such cheer- fulness ; does, in so far as he was honest, accomplish some- thing. Turgot has faculties ; honesty, insight, heroic volition ; but the Fortunatus' Purse he has not. Sanguine Controller- General ! a whole pacific French Revolution may stand schemed in the head of the thinker ; but who shall pay the unspeak- able " indemnities " that will be needed ? Alas, far from that : on the very threshold of the business, he proposes that the Clergy, the Noblesse, the very Parlements be subjected to taxes like the People ! One shriek of indignation and astonishment reverberates through all the Chateau galleries ; M. de Maurepas has to gyrate : the poor King, who had written few weeks ago, " // n'y a que vous et moi qui airnions le peuple (There is none but you and I that has the people's interest at heart)," must write now a dismissal ;« and let the French Revolution accom- plish itself, pacifically or not, as it can. Hope, then, is deferred? Deferred; not destroyed, or abated. Is not this, for example, our Patriarch Voltaire, after long years of absence, revisiting Paris? With face shrivelled to nothing ; with " huge peruke a la Louis Quatorze, which leaves only two eyes visible, glittering like carbuncles," the old man is here.t What an outburst ! Sneering Paris has suddenly a In May 1776. b February 1778. 4CG555 38 CARLYLE [i774— 8i grown reverent ; devotional with Hero-worship. Nobles have disguised themselves as tavern-waiters to obtain sight of him : the loveliest of France would lay their hair beneath his feet. " His chariot is the nucleus of a Comet ; whose train fills w^hole streets :" they crown him in the theatre, with immortal vivats ; finally "stifle him under roses" — for old Richelieu recommended opium in such state of the nerves, and the ex- cessive Patriarch took too much. Her Majesty herself had some thought of sending for him; but was dissuaded. Let Majesty consider it, nevertheless. The purport of this man's existence has been to wither up and annihilate all whereon Majesty and Worship for the present rests : and is it so that the world recognizes him? With Apotheosis; as its Prophet and Speaker, who has spoken wisely the thing it longed to say? Add only, that the body of this same rose-stifled, beati- fied Patriarch cannot get buried except by stealth. It is wholly a notable business; and France, without doubt, is big (what the Germans call "Of good Hope"): we shall wish her a happy birth-hour, and blessed fruit. Beaumarchais too has now winded-up his Law-Pleadings (Memoircs) ;c not without result, to himself and to the world. Caron Beaumarchais (or de Beaumarchais, for he got en- nobled) had been born poor, but aspiring, esurient ; with talents, audacity, adroitness ; above all, with the talent for intrigue : a lean, but also a tough indomitable man. Fortune and dexterity brought him to the harpsichord of Mesdames, our good Prin- cesses Loqiie, Graillc and Sisterhood. Still better, Paris Du- vernier, the Court-Banker, honored him with some confidence ; to the length even of transactions in cash. Which confidence, however, Duvernier's Heir, a person of quality, would not con- tinue. Quite otherwise ; there springs a Lawsuit from it : wherein tough Beaumarchais, losing both mone}^ and repute, is, in the opinion of Judge-Reporter Goezman, of the Parlement Maupeou, and of a whole indifferent acquiescing world, miser- ably beaten. In all men's opinion, only not in his own ! In- spired by the indignation, which makes, if not verses, satirical lawpapers, the withered Music-master, with a desperate heroism, takes up his lost cause in spite of the world; fights for it, against Reporters, Parlements and Principalities, with light c ^773-6. See (Euvrcs de Beaumarchais; where they, and the history of them, arc given. 1776-85J THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 39 banter, with clear logic; adroitly, with an inexhaustible tough- ness and resource, like the skilfulest fencer ; on whom, so skil- ful he is, the whole world now looks. Three long years it lasts ; with wavering fortune. In fine, after labors comparable to the Twelve of Hercules, our unconquerable Caron triumphs ; regains his Lawsuit and Lawsuits ; strips Reporter Goezman of the judicial ermine ; covering him with a perpetual gar- ment of obloquy instead : — and in regard to the Parlement Maupeou (which he has helped to extinguish), to Parlements of all kinds, and to French Justice generally, gives rise to end- less reflections in the minds of men. Thus has Beaumar- chais, like a lean French Hercules, ventured down, driven by destiny, into the Nether Kingdoms ; and victoriously tamed hell-dogs there. He also is henceforth among the notabilities of his generation. Chapter V. — Astraea Redux Without Cash. Observe, however, beyond the Atlantic, has not the new day verily dawned ! Democracy, as we said, is born ; storm- girt, is struggling for life and victory. A sympathetic France rejoices over the Rights of Man; in all saloons, it is said, What a spectacle ! Now too behold our Deane, our Franklin, American Plenipotentiaries, here in person soliciting :d the sons of the Saxon Puritans, with their Old-Saxon temper, Old- Hebrew culture, sleek Silas, sleek Benjamin, here on such errand, among the light children of Heathenism, Monarchy, Sentimentalism, and the Scarlet-woman. A spectacle indeed ; oved which saloons may cackle joyous ; though Kaiser Joseph, questioned on it, gave this answer, most unexpected from a Philosophe : " Madame, the trade I live by is that of royalist (Mon metier a inoi c'est d'etre royaliste)." So thinks light Maurepas too ; but the wind of Philosophism and force of public opinion will blow him round. Best wishes, meanwhile, are sent ; clandestine privateers armed. Paul Jones shall equip his Bon Homme Richard: weapons, military stores can be smuggled over (if the English do not seize them) ; wherein, once more Beaumarchais, dimly as the Giant Smuggler, becomes visible — filling his own lank pocket withal. But surely, in any case, France should have a Navy. For which great di777; Deane somewhat earlier: Franklin remained till 1785. 40 CAREYLE [1776—85 object were not now the time ; now when that proud Ter- magant of the Seas has her hands full ? It is true, an im- poverished Treasury cannot build ships ; but the hint once given (which Beaumarchais says he gave), this and the other loyal Seaport, Chamber of Commerce, will build and offer them. Goodly vessels bound into the waters ; a Ville de Paris, Leviathan of ships. And now when gratuitous three-deckers dance there at anchor, with streamers flying; and eleutheromaniac Philo- sophedom grows ever more clamorous, what can a Maurepas do — but gyrate ? Squadrons cross the ocean : Gateses, Lees, rough Yankee Generals, " with woollen night-caps under their hats," present arms to the far-glancing Chivalry of France; and new-born Democracy sees, not without amazement, " Des- potism tempered by Epigrams " fight at her side. So, how- ever, it is. King's forces and heroic volunteers ; Rochambeaus, Bouilles, Lameths, Lafayettes, have drawn their swords in this sacred quarrel of mankind ; — shall draw them again else- where, in the strangest way. Off Ushant some naval thunder is heard. In the course of which did our young Prince, Duke de Chartres, " hide in the hold ;" or did he materially, by active heroism, contribute to the victory? Alas, by a second edition, we learn that there was no victory ; or that English Keppel had lis Our poor young Prince gets his Opera plaudits changed into mocking tehees ; and cannot become Grand- Admiral — the source to him of woes which one may call endless. Woe also for Ville de Paris, the Leviathan of ships ! Eng- lish Rodney has clutched it, and led it home, with the rest; so successful was his " new manoeuvre of breaking the enemy's line."^ It seems as if, according to Louis XV, " France were never to have a Navy." Brave Suffren must return from Hyder Ally and the Indian waters ; with small result ; yet with great glory for " six " non-defeats; — which indeed, with such second- ing as he had, one may reckon heroic. Let the old sea-hero rest now, honored of France, in his native Cevenncs moun- tains ; send smoke, not of gunpowder, but mere culinary smoke, through the old chimneys of the Castle of Jalcs — which one day, in other hands, shall have other fame. Brave Laperouse shall by and by lift anchor, on philanthropic Voyage of Dis- ^27th July 1778. /9th and 12th April 1782. 1776-81] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 41 covery ; for the King knows Geography.^ But, alas, this also will not prosper: the brave Navigator goes, and returns not; the Seekers search far seas for him in vain. He has vanished trackless into blue Immensity ; and only some mournful mys- terious shadow of him hovers long in all heads and hearts. Neither, while the War yet lasts, will Gibraltar surrender. Not though Crillon, Nassau-Siegen, with the ablest projectors extant, are there ; and Prince Conde and Prince d'Artois have hastened to help. Wondrous leather-roofed Floating- batteries, set afloat by French-Spanish Facte de Famille, give gallant summons: to which, nevertheless, Gibraltar answers Plutonically, with mere torrents of redhot iron — as if stone Calpe had become a throat of the Pit ; and utters such a Doom's- blast of a No, as all men must credit./^ And so, with this loud explosion, the noise of War has ceased ; an Age of Benevolence may hope, forever. Our noble volunteers of freedom have returned, to be her missionaries. Lafayette, as the matchless of his time, glitters in the Ver- sailles CEil-de-Boeuf ; has his Bust set up in the Paris Hotel- de-Ville. Democracy stands inexpugnable, immeasurable, in her New World ; has even a foot lifted towards the Old ; — and our French Finances, little strengthened by such work, are in no healthy way. What to do with the Finances? This indeed is the great question: a small but most black weather-symptom, which no radiance of universal hope can cover. We saw Turgot cast forth from the Controllership, with shrieks — for want of a For- tunatus' Purse. As little could M. de Clugny manage the duty ; or indeed do anything, but consume his wages ; attain a " place in History," where as an inefifectual shadow thou bcholdest him still lingering; — and let the duty manage itself. Did Genevese Necker possess such a Purse, then? He pos- sessed banker's skill, banker's honesty; credit of all kinds, for he had written Academic Prize Essays, struggled for India Companies, given dinners to Philosophes, and " realized a fortune in twenty years." He possessed, further, a taciturnity and solemnity ; of depth, or else of dulness. How singular for Celadon Gibbon, false swain as he had proved ; whose father, SI August 1st, 1785. h Annual Register (Dodslcy's). xxv. 258-267. September, October, 1782. 42 CARLYLE [1776—84 keeping most probably his own gig, " would not hear of such a union " — to find now his forsaken Demoiselle Curchod sitting in the high places of the world, as Minister's Madame, and " Necker not jealous ! "i A new young Demoiselle, one day to be famed as a Madame and De Stael, was romping about the knees of the Decline and Fall : the lady Necker founds Hospitals ; gives solemn Philosophe dinner-parties, to cheer her exhausted Controller- General. Strange things have happened : by clamor of Philoso- phism, management of Marquis de Pezay, and Poverty con- straining even Kings. And so Necker, Atlas-like, sustains the burden of the Finances, for five years long./ Without wages, for he refused such ; cheered only by Public Opinion, and the ministering of his noble Wife. With many thoughts in him, it is hoped ; — which, however, he is shy of uttering. His Compte Rendu, published by the royal permission, fresh sign of a New Era, shows wonders ; — which what but the genius of some Atlas-Necker can prevent from becoming portents? In Necker's head too there is a whole pacific French Revolu- tion, of its kind ; and in that taciturn dull depth, or deep dul- ness, ambition enough. Meanwhile, alas, his Fortunatus' Purse turns out to be little other than the old " vectigal of Parsimony." Nay, he too has to produce his scheme of taxing: Clergy, Noblesse to be taxed ; Provincial Assemblies, and the rest — like a mere Turgot ! The expiring M. de Maurepas must gyrate one other time. Let Necker also depart ; not unlamented. Great in a private station, Necker looks on from the dis- tance ; abiding his time. " Eighty thousand copies " of his new Book, which he calls Ad)ninistration des Finances, will be sold in few days. He is gone ; but shall return, and that more than once, borne by a whole shouting Nation. Singular Controller-General of the Finances ; once Clerk in Thelusson's Bank! i Gibbon's Letters: date, i6th June 1777, &c. /Till May 1781. 1776—84] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 43 Chapter VI. — Windbags. So marches the world, in this its Paper Age, or Era of Hope. Not without obstructions, war-explosions ; which, how- ever, heard from such distance, are little other than a cheerful marching-music. If indeed that dark living chaos of Igno- ' ranee and Hunger, five-and-twenty million strong, under your feet, were to begin playing! For the present, however, consider Longchamp; now when Lent is ending, and the glory of Paris and France has gone forth, as in annual wont. Not to assist at Tenebris Masses, but to sun itself and show itself, and salute the young Spring.^ Manifold, bright-tinted, glittering with gold ; all through the Bois de Boulogne, in longdrawn variegated rows ; — like long- drawn living flower-borders, tulips, dahlias, lilies of the valley ; all in their moving flower-pots (of new-gilt carriages) : pleas- f^ure of the eye, and pride of life! So rolls and dances the Procession : steady, of firm assurance, as if it rolled on adamant and the foundations of the world ; not on mere heraldic parch- ment — under which smoulders a lake of fire. Dance on, ye^ ""foolish ones ; ye sought not wisdom, neither have ye found it. ' Ye and your fathers have sown the wind, ye shall reap the ■ whirlwind. Was it not, from of old, written : The zvages of sin is death? But at Longchamp, as elsewhere, we remark for one thing, that dame and cavalier arc waited on each by a kind of human familiar, named jokci. Little elf, or imp ; though young, already withered ; with its withered air of premature vice, of knowing- ness, of completed elf-hood : useful in various emergencies. The name jokci (jockey) comes from the English; as the thing also fancies that it does. Our Anglomania, in fact, is grown considerable ; prophetic of much. If France is to be free, why shall she not, now when mad war is hushed, love neighboring Freedom ? Cultivated men, your Dukes de Lian- court, de la Rochefoucault admire the English Constitution, the English National Character; would import what of it they can. Of what is lighter, especially if it be light as wind, how much easier the freightage ! Non- Admiral Duke de Chartres k Mercier, Tableau dc Paris, ii. 51. Louvct, Roman dc Faiiblas, &c. 44 CARLYLE [1781—84 (not yet d'Orleans or Egalite) flies to and fro across the Strait ; importing English Fashions : this he, as hand-and- glove with an EngHsh Prince of Wales, is surely qualified to do. Carriages and saddles ; top-boots and rcdingotes, as we ^ A^ call riding-coats. Nay the very mode of riding: for now no . man on a level with his age but will trot a I'Anglaise, rising in the stirrups ; scornful of the old sitfast method, in which, according to Shakspeare, " butter and eggs " go to market. Also, he can urge the fervid wheels, this brave Chartres of ours; no whip in Paris is rasher and surer than the unprofes- 1 sional one of Monseigneur. Elf jokeis, we have seen ; but see now real Yorkshire jockeys, and what they ride on, and train : English racers for French Races. These likewise we owe first (under the Provi- dence of the Devil) to Monseigneur. Prince d'Artois also has his stud of racers. Prince d'Artois has withal the strangest horseleech : a moonstruck, much-enduring individual, of Neu- chatel in Switzerland — named Jean Paul Marat. A problematic Chevalier d'Eon, now in petticoats, now in breeches, is no less problematic in London than in Paris ; and causes bets and lawsuits. Beautiful days of international communion ! Swin- dlery and Blackguardism have stretched hands across the Channel, and saluted mutually : on the racecourse of Vincennes or Sablons, behold, in English curricle-and-four, wafted glorious among the principalities and rascalities, an English Dr. Dodd^ — for whom also the too early gallows gapes. Duke de Chartres was a young Prince of great promise, as young princes often are ; which promise unfortunately has belied itself. With the huge Orleans Property, with Duke s, de Penthievre for Father-in-law (and now the young Brother' ' in-law Lamballe killed by excesses) — he will one day be the richest man in France. Meanwhile, " his hair is all falling out, his blood is quite spoiled " — by early transcendentalism of de- bauchery. Carbuncles stud his face ; dark studs on a ground of burnished copper. A most signal failure, this young Prince ! The stufif prematurely burnt out of him: little left but foul smoke and ashes of expiring sensualities : what might have been Thought, Insight, and even Conduct, gone now. or fast going — to confused darkness, broken by bewildering dazzle- ments ; to obstreperous crotchets ; to activities which you may / Adelung, Gcschichtc dcr mcnschlichcn Narrhcit, § Dodd. 1781^84] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 45 call semi-delirious, or even semi-galvanic ! Paris affects to laugh at his charioteering ; but he heeds not such laughter. On the other hand, what a day, not of laughter, was that, when he threatened, for lucre's sake, to lay sacrilegious hand on the Palais Royal Garden \m The flower-parterres shall be riven up ; the Chestnut Avenues shall fall : time-honored boscages, under which the Opera Hamadryads were wont to wander, not inexorable to men. Paris moans aloud. Philidor, from his- Cafe de la Regence, shall no longer look on green- ness; the loungers and losels of the world, where now shall they haunt? In vain is moaning. The axe glitters ; the sacred groves fall crashing — for indeed Monseigneur was short of money : the Opera Hamadryads fly with shrieks. Shriek not, ye Opera Hamadryads ; or not as those that have no comfort. He will surround your Garden with new edifices and piazzas : though narrowed, it shall be replanted ; dizened with hydraulic jets, cannon which the sun fires at noon ; things bodily, things spiritual, such as man has not imagined ; — and in the Palais- Royal shall again, and more than ever, be the Sorcerer's Sab- bath and Satan-at-Home of our Planet. What will not mortals attempt? From remote Annonay in the Vivarais, the Brothers IVIontgolfier send up their paper- dome, filled with the smoke of burnt wool." The Vivarais Provincial Assembly is to be prorogued this same day : Vivarais Assembly-members applaud, and the shouts of congregated men. Will victorious Analysis scale the very Heavens, then? Paris hears with eager wonder ; Paris shall ere long see. From Reveillon's Paper-warehouse there, in the Rue St. An- toine (a noted Warehouse) — the new Montgolfier air-ship launches itself. Ducks and poultry have been borne skyward: but now shall men be borne.o Nay, Chemist Charles thinks of hydrogen and glazed silk. Chemist Charles will himself ascend, from the Tuileries Garden ; Montgolfier solemnly cutting the cord. By Heaven, this Charles does also mount, he and another ! Ten times ten thousand hearts go palpitating ; all tongues arc mute with wonder and fear ; — till a shout, like the voice of seas, rolls after him, on his wild way. He soars, he dwindles upwards ; has become a mere gleaming circlet — like some Turgotine snuffbox, what we call " Tnrgotine-Plati- «i 1781-82. (Dulaure, viii. 423.) n 5tli Jiiik- 1783. o October and November 1783. 46 CARLYLE [1781—88 tude ;" like some new daylight Moon! Finally he descends j welcomed by the universe. Duchess Polignac, with a party, ' is in the Bois de Boulogne, waiting; though it is drizzly winter, the ist of December, 1783. The whole chivalry of France, Duke de Chartres foremost, gallops to receive him./" Beautiful invention ; mounting heavenward, so beautifully, — so unguidably ! Emblem of much, and of our Age of Hope itself; which shall mount, specifically-light, majestically in this same manner ; and hover — tumbling whither Fate will. Well if it do not, Pilatre-like, explode; and deraonnt all the more tragically ! — So, riding on windbags, will men scale the Em- pyrean. Or observe Herr Doctor Mesmer, in his spacious Magnetic Halls. Long-stoled he walks ; reverend, glancing upwards, as in rapt commerce ; an Antique Egyptian Hierophant in this new age. Soft music flits ; breaking fitfully the sacred still- ness. Round their Magnetic Mystery, which to the eye is mere tubs with water — sit breathless, rod in hand, the circles of Beauty and Fashion, each circle a living circular Passion- Flozver; expecting the magnetic afflatus, and new-manufactured Fleaven-on-Earth. O women, O men, great is your infidel- faith ! A Parlementary Duport, a Bergasse, D'Espremenil we notice there ; Chemist Berthollet too — on the part of Mon- seigneur de Chartres. Had not the Academy of Sciences, with its Baillys, Frank- lins, Lavoisiers, interfered ! But it did interfere.? Mesmer may pocket his hard money, and withdraw. Let him walk silent by the shore of the Bodensee, by the ancient town of Con- stance ; meditating on much. For so, under the strangest new vesture, the old great truth (since no vesture can hide it) begins again to be revealed : That man is what we call a miraculous creature, with miraculous power over men ; and, on the whole, with such a Life in him, and such a World round him, as vic- torious Analysis, with her Physiologies, Nervous-systems, Physic and Metaphysic, will never completely name, to say nothing of explaining. Wherein also the Quack shall, in all ages, come in for his share. > p Lacretelle, iSnie Siecle, iii. 258. q August 1784. 1781—88] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 47 Chapter VII. — Contrat Social. In such succession of singular prismatic tints, flush after flush suffusing our horizon, does the Era of Hope dawn on towards fulfilment. Questionahle ! As indeed, with an Era of Hope that rests on mere universal Benevolence, victorious Analysis, Vice cured of its deformity; and, in the longrun,- on Twenty-five dark savage Millions, looking up, in hunger and weariness, to that Eccc-signum of theirs " forty feet high," — how could it but be questionable? Through ail time, if we read aright, sin was, is, will be, the parent of misery. This land calls itself most Christian, and has crosses and cathedrals ; but its High-priest is some Roche- "^ ^ Aymon, some Necklace-Cardinal Louis de Rohan. The voice J .^ of the poor, through long years, ascends inarticulate, in Jac- queries, meal-mobs ; low-whimpering of infinite moan : un- heeded of the Earth ; not unheeded of Heaven. Always more- over where the Millions are wretched, there are the Thousands straitened, unhappy ; only the Units can flourish ; or say rather, be ruined the last. Industry, all noosed and haltered, as if it too were some beast of chase for the mighty hunters of this world to bait, and cut slices from — cries passionately to these its well-paid guides and watchers, not, Guide me; but, Laissez faire, Leave me alone of your guidance ! What market has Industry in this France? For two things there may be market and demand : for the coarser kind of field-fruits, since the Millions will live, for the finer kinds of luxury and spicery — of multiform taste, from opera-melodies down to racers and courtesans ; since the Units will be amused. It is at bottom but a mad state of things. To mend and remake all which we have, indeed, victorious Analysis. Honor to victorious Analysis; nevertheless, out of the Workshop and Laboratory, what thing was victorious Ana- lysis yet known to make ? Detection of incoherences, mainly ; destruction of the incoherent. From of old. Doubt was but half a magician ; she evokes the spectres which she cannot quell. We shall have " endless vortices of froth-logic ;" whereon first words, and then things, are whirled and swal- lowed. Remark, accordingly, as acknowledged groimds of Hope, at bottom mere precursors of Despair, this perpetual 48 CARLYLE [1781—88 theorizing about Man, the Mind of Man, Philosophy of Gov- ernment, Progress of the Species and such-Uke ; the main thinking furniture of every head. Time, and so many Montes- quieus, Mablys, spokesmen of Time, have discovered innumer- able things : and now has not Jean Jacques promulgated his new Evangel of a Contrat Social; explaining the whole mys- j tery of Government, and how it is contracted and bargained for — to universal satisfaction? Theories of Government ! Such have been, and will be ; in ages of decadence. Acknowledge them in their degree ; as processes of Nature, who does noth- ing in vain ; as steps in her great process. Meanwhile, what theory is so certain as this. That all theories, were they never so earnest, painfully elaborated, are, and, by the very condi- tions of them, must be incomplete, questionable, and even false ? Thou shalt know that this Universe is, what it professes to be, an infinite one. Attempt not to swallow it, for thy logical digestion ; be thankful, if skilfully planting down this and the other fixed pillar in the chaos, thou prevent its swallowing thee. That a new young generation has exchanged the Sceptic Creed, What shall I believe f for passionate Faith in this Gospel accord- ing to Jean Jacques is a further step in the business ; and be- tokens much. Blessed also is Hope ; and always from the beginning there was some Millennium prophesied ; Millennium of Holiness ; but (what is notable) never till this new Era, any Millennium of mere Ease and plentiful Supply. In such prophesied Lubber- land, of Happiness, Benevolence, and Vice cured of its de- formity, trust not, my friends ! Man is not what one calls a happy animal ; his appetite for sweet victual is so enormous. How, in this wild Universe, which storms in on him, infinite, vague-menacing, shall poor man find, say not happiness, but existence, and footing to stand on, if it be not by girding himself together for continual endeavor and endurance? Woe, if in his heart there dwelt no devout Faith ; if the word Duty had lost its meaning for him ! For as to this of Sentimentalism, so useful for weeping with over romances and on pathetic occa- sions, it otherwise verily will avail nothing ; nay less. The healthy heart that said to itself, " How healthy am I ! " was already fallen into the fatalest sort of disease. Is not Senti- mentalism twin-sister to Cant, if not one and the same with it? Is not Cant the materia prima of the Devil ; from which all false- 1781-83] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 49 hoods, imbecilities, abominations body themselves ; from which no true thing can come ? For Cant is itself properly a double- distilled Lie ; the second-power of a Lie. And now if a whole Nation fall into that ? In such case, I answer, infallibly they will return out of it ! For life is no cun- ningly-devised deception or self-deception : it is a great truth that thou art alive, that thou hast desires, necessities ; neither can these subsist and satisfy themselves on delusions, but on fact. To fact, depend on it, we shall come back ; to such fact, blessed or cursed, as we have wisdom for. The lowest, least blessed fact one knows of, on which necessitous mortals have ever based themselves, seems to be the primitive one of Canni- balism : That / can devour Thee. What if such Primitive Fact were precisely the one we had (with our improved methods) to revert to, and begin anew from ! Chapter VIII. — Printed Paper. In such a practical France, let the theory of Perfectibility say what it will, discontents cannot be wanting your promised Reformation is so indispensable; yet it comes not; who will begin it — with himself? Discontent with what is around us, still more with what is above us, goes on increasing; seeking ever new vents. Of Street Ballads, of Epigrams that from of old tempered Despotism, we need not speak. Nor of Manuscript News- papers (Nouvellcs a la main) do we speak. Bachaumont and his journeymen and followers may close those "thirty volumes of scurrilous eaves-dropping," and quit that trade ; for at length if not liberty of the Press, there is license. Pamphlets can be surreptitiously vended and read in Paris, did they even bear to be "Printed at Pekin." We have a Coiirrier de V Europe in those years, regularly published at London ; by a De Morande, whom the guillotine has not yet devoured. There, too, an unruly Linguet, still unguillotined, when his own country has become too hot for him, and his brother Advocates have cast him out, can emit for his hoarse wailings, and Bastille Dcvoilce (Bastille Unveiled). Loquacious Abbe Raynal, at length, has his wish ; sees the Histoire Phihsophiquc, with its " lubricity," unveracity, loose loud eleutheromaniac rant (contributed, they say, by Philosophcdom at large, though in the Abbe's name, Vol. I.— 4 cro CARLYLE [1784-86 J and to his glory), burnt by the common hangman ; — and sets out on his travels as a martyr. It was the Edition of 1781 ; per- haps the last notable Book that had such fire-beatitude, — the hangman discovering now that it did not serve. Again, in Courts of Law, with their money-quarrels, divorce- cases, wheresoever a glimpse into the household existence can be had, what indications ! The Parlements of Besangon and Aix ring, audible to all France, with the amours and destinies of a young Mirabeau. He, under the nurture of a " Friend of Men," has, in State Prisons, in marching Regiments, Dutch Authors'-garrets, and quite other scenes, " been for twenty years learning to resist despotism " : despotism of men, and alas also of gods. How, beneath this rose-colored veil of Universal Benevolence and Astrcca Redux, is the sanctuary of Home so often a dreary void, or a dark contentious Hell-on-Earth ! The old Friend of Men has his own divorce-case too ; and at times, " his whole family but one " under lock and key : he writes much about reforming and enfranchising the world ; and for his own private behoof he has needed sixty Lettrcs-de-Cachct. A man of insight too ; with resolution, even with manful prin- ciple : but in such an element, inward and outward ; which he could not rule, but only madden. Edacity, rapacity ; — quite contrary to the finer sensibilities of the heart ! Fools, that ex- pect your verdant Millennium, and nothing but Love and Abundance, brooks running wine, winds whispering music, — with the whole ground and basis of your existence champed into a mud of Sensuality ; which, daily growing deeper, will soon have no bottom but the Abyss ! Or consider that unutterable business of the Diamond Neck- lace. Red-hatted Cardinal Louis de Rohan ; Sicilian jail-bird Balsamo Cagliostro ; milliner Dame de Lamotte, " with a face of some piquancy : " the highest Church Dignitaries waltzing, in Walpurgis Dance, with quack-prophets, pickpurses and pub- lic women ; — a whole Satan's Invisible World displayed ; work- ing there continually under the daylight visible one ; the smoke of its torment going up forever ! The Throne has been brought into scandalous collision with the Treadmill. Astonished Europe rings with the mystery for nine months ; sees only He unfold itself from lie ; corruption among the lofty and the low, gulosity, credulity, imbecility, strength nowhere but in the hun- ger. Weep, fair Queen, thy first tears of unmixed wretched- 1784—86] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 51 ness ! Thy fair name has been tarnished by foul breath ; irre- mediably while life lasts. No more shalt thou be loved and pitied by living hearts, till a new generation has been born, and thy own heart lies cold, cured of all its sorrows. — The Epigrams henceforth become, not sharp and bitter ; but cruel, atrocious, unmentionable. On that 31st of May, 17S6, a miserable Car- dinal Grand-Almoner Rohan, on issuing from his Bastille, is escorted by hurrahing crowds: unloved he, and worthy of no love ; but important since the Court and Queen are his ene- mies. a "^ How is our bright Era of Hope dimmed ; and the whole sky growing bleak with signs of hurricane and earthquake! It is a doomed world : gone all " obedience that made men free ; " fast going the obedience that made men slaves — -at least to one another. Slaves only of their own lusts they now are, and will be. Slaves of sin ; inevitably also of sorrow. Behold the mouldering mass of Sensuality and Falsehood ; round which plays foolishly, itself a corrupt phosphorescence, some glim- mer of Sentimentalism ; — and over all, rising, as Ark of their Covenant, the grim Patibulary Fork " forty feet high ; " which also is now nigh rotted. Add only that the French Nation dis- tinguishes itself among Nations by the characteristic of Ex- citability ; with the good, but also with the perilous evil, which belongs to that. Rebellion, explosion, of unknown extent is to be calculated on. There are, as Chesterfield wrote, " a^l the symptoms I have ever met with in History ! " Shall we say, then : Woe to Philosophism, that it destroyed-^ Religion, what it called "extinguishing the abomination (ccrascr Fin fame) " ? Woe rather to those that made the Holy an abomination, and extinguisliable ; woe to all men that live in such a time of world-abomination and world-destruction ! Nay, answer the Courtiers, it was Turgot, it was Necker, with their mad innovating ; it was the Queen's want of etiquette ; it was he, it was she, it was that. Friends ! it was every scoundrel that had lived, and quack-like pretended to be doing, and been only eating and ?;//,9doing, in all provinces of life, as Shoeblack or as Sovereign Lord, each in his degree, from the time of Charlemagne and earlier. All this (for be sure no falsehood perishes, but is as seed sown out to grow) has been storing itself cFils Adoptif, Mhnoires de Mirabcau, iv. 325. — See Carlylc's Bio- graphical Essays, sec. Diamond Necklace, § Count Cagliostro. 52 CARLYLE [1784—88 for thousands of years ; and now the account-day has come. And rude will the settlement be : of wrath laid up against the day of wrath. O my Brother, be not thou a Quack ! Die rather, if thou wilt take counsel ; 'tis but dying once, and thou art quit of it forever. Cursed is that trade ; and bears curses, thou knowest not how, long ages after thou art departed, and the wages thou hadst are all consumed ; nay, as the ancient wise have written — through Eternity itself, and is verily marked in the Doom-Book of a God ! Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. And yet, as we said, Hope is but deferred ; not abolished, not abolishable. It is very notable, and touching, how this same Hope does still light onward the French Nation through all its wild destinies. For we shall still find Hope shining, be it for fond invitation, be it for anger and menace ; as a mild heavenly light it shone ; as a red conflagration it shines : burning sulphurous-blue, through darkest regions of Terror, it still shines ; and goes not out at all, since Desperation itself is a kind of Hope. Thus is our Era still to be named of Hope, though in the saddest sense — which there is nothing left but Hope. But if any one would know summarily what a Pandora's Box lies there for the opening, he may see it in what by its nature is the symptom of all symptoms, the surviving Literature of the Period. Abbe Raynal, with his lubricity and loud loose rant, has spoken his word ; and already the fast-hastening gen- eration responds to another. Glance at Beaumarchais' Mariage de Figaro; which now (in 1784), after difficulty enough, has issued on the stage ; and " runs its hundred nights," to the admiration of all men. By what virtue or in- ternal vigor it so ran, the reader of our day will rather wonder : — and indeed will know so much the better that it flattered some pruriency of the time ; that it spoke what all were feeling, and longing to speak. Small substance in that Figaro: thin wiredrawn intrigues, thin wiredrawn sentiments and sarcasms ; a thing lean, barren ; yet which winds and whisks itself, as through a wholly mad universe, adroitly, with a high-sniffing air: wherein each, as was hinted, which is the grand secret, may see some image of himself, and of his own state and ways. So it runs its hundred nights, and all France runs with it ; laughing applause. If the soliloquizing Barber ask : " What has your Lordship done to earn all this? " and can only answer: 1784-88] THE FRENCIT RffvaLUTlCTN 53 " You took the trouble to be born (Voits z'ous ctcs donnc la peine de naifre)," all men must laugh : and a gay horse-racing Anglo- maniac Noblesse loudest of all. For how can small books have a great danger in them ? asks the Sieur Caron ; and fancies his thin epigram may be a kind of reason. Conqueror of a golden fleece, by giant smuggling ; tamer of hell-dogs, in the Parlement Maupeou ; and finally crowned Orpheus in the Theatre Franeais, Beaumarchais has now culminated, and unites the attributes of several demigods. We shall meet him once again, in the course of his decline. Still more significant are two Books produced on the eve of the ever-memorable Explosion itself, and read eagerly by all the world: Saint-Pierre's Paid et Virginie, and Louvet's Chevalier de Faitblas. Noteworthy Books ; which may be con- sidered as the last-speech of old Feudal France. In the first there rises melodiously, as it were, the wail of a moribund world : everywhere wholesome Nature in unequal conflict with diseased perfidious Art ; cannot escape from it in the lowest hut, in the remotest island of the sea. Ruin and death must strike down the loved one ; and, what is most significant of all, death even here not by necessity but by etiquette. What a world of prurient corruption lies visible in that super-sublime of modesty ! Yet, on the whole, our good Saint-Pierre is mu- sical, poetical though most morbid : we will call his Book the swan-song of old dying France. Louvet's, again, let no man account musical. Truly, if this wretched Fanblas is a death-speech, it is one under the gallows, and by a felon that does not repent. Wretched cloaca of a Book; without depth even as a cloaca! What "picture of French society " is here ? Picture properly of nothing, if not of the mind that gave it out as some sort of picture. Yet symp- tom of much ; above all, of the world that could nourish itself thereon. BOOK THIRD. THE PARLEMENT OF PARIS. Chapter I. — Dishonored Bills. WHILE the unspeakable confusion is everywhere welter- ing within, and through so many cracks in the surface sulphur-smoke is issuing, the question arises: Through what crevice will the main Explosion carry itself? Through which of the old craters or chimneys ; or must it, at once, form a new crater for itself? In every Society are such chimneys, are Institutions serving as such : even Constantinople is not without its safety-valves ; there, too, Discontent can vent itself, — in material fire ; by the number of nocturnal conflagra- tions, or of hanged bakers, the Reigning Power can read the signs of the times, and change course according to these. We may say that this French Explosion will doubtless first try all the old Institutions of escape ; for by each of these there is, or at least there used to be, some communication with the in- terior deep ; they are national Institutions in virtue of that. Had they even become personal Institutions, and what we can call choked up from their original uses, there nevertheless must the impediment be weaker than elsewhere. Through which of them, then? An observer might have guessed : Through the ■ Law Parlements ; above all, through the Parlement of Paris. ^ "^ Men, though never so thickly clad in dignities, sit not inac- cessible to the influences of their time; especially men whose life is business ; who at all turns, were it even from behind judg- ment-seats, have come in contact with the actual workings of the world. The Counsellor of Parlement, the President him- self, who has bought his place with hard money that he might be looked up to by his fellow-creatures, how shall he, in all Philosophe-soirees, and saloons of elegant culture, become not- able as a Friend of Darkness? Among the Paris Long-robes there may be more than one patriotic Malesherbes, whose rule 54 1781—83] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 55 is conscience and the public good ; there are clearly more than one hotheaded D'Espremenil, to whose confused thought any loud reputation of the Brutus sort may seem glorious. The Lepelletiers, Lamoignons have titles and wealth ; yet, at Court, are only styled " Noblesse of the Robe." There are Duports of deep scheme ; Freteaus, Sabatiers, of incontinent tongue : all nursed more or less on the milk of the Contrat Social. Nay, for the whole Body, is not this patriotic opposition also a fighting for oneself? Awake, Parlement of Paris, renew thy long war-- fare ! Was not the Parlement Maupeou abolished with ig- nominy ? Not now hast thou to dread a Louis XIV, with the crack of his whip, and his Olympian looks ; not now a Richelieu and Bastilles : no, the whole Nation is behind thee. Thou too (O heavens!) mayest become a Political Power; and with the shakings of thy horse-hair wig shake principalities and dynasties, like a very Jove with his ambrosial curls! Light old M. de Maurepas, since the end of 1781, has been fixed in the frost of death : " Never more," said the good Louis, " shall I hear his step in the room there overhead ; " his light jestings and gyratings are at an end. No more can the im- portunate reality be hidden by pleasant wit, and to-day's evil be deftly rolled over upon to-morrow. The morrow itself has arrived ; and now nothing but a solid phlegmatic M. de Ver- gennes sits there, in dull matter of fact, like some dull punctual Clerk (which he originally was) ; admits what cannot be de- nied, let the remedy come whence it will. In him is no remedy ; only clcrklike "despatch of business" according to routine. The poor King, grown older yet hardly more experienced, must himself, with such no-faculty as he has, begin governing; wherein also his Queen will give help. Bright Queen, with her quick clear glances and impulses ; clear, and even noble ; but all too superficial, vehement-shallow, for that work ! To govern France were such a problem ; and now it has grown well-nigh too hard to govern even the CEil-de-Boeuf. For if a distressed People has its cry, so likewise, and more audibly, has a bereaved Court. To the CFil-de-Boeuf it remains inconceivable how, in a France of such resources, the Horn of Plenty should run dry : did it not use to flow ? Nevertheless Nccker, with his revenue of parsimony, has "suppressed above six hundred places," be- fore the Courtiers could oust him ; parsimonious finance-pedant as he was. Again, a military pedant, Saint-German, with his 56 CARLYLE [1781—83 Prussian manoeuvres; with his Prussian notions, as if merit and not coat-of-arms should be the rule of promotion, has dis- affected military men; the Mousquetaires, with much else are suppressed : for he too was one of your suppressors ; and un- settling and oversetting, did mere mischief — to the QEil-de- Boeuf. Complaints abound ; scarcity, anxiety : it is a changed Gi^il-de-Boeuf. Besenval says, already in these years (1781) there was such a melancholy (such a tristessc) about Court, compared with former days, as made it quite dispiriting to look upon. No wonder that the CEil-de-Boeuf feels melancholy, when you are suppressing its places ! Not a place can be suppressed, but some purse is the lighter for it ; and more than one heart the heavier ; for did it not employ the working-classes too, — manu- facturers, male and female, of laces, essences ; of Pleasure gen- erally, whosoever could manufacture Pleasure? Miserable economies ; never felt over Twenty-five Millions ! So, how- j ever, it goes on : and is not yet ended. Few years more and the Wolf-hounds shall fall suppressed, the Bear-hounds, the Fal- conry ; places shall fall, thick as autumnal leaves. Duke de Polignac demonstrates, to the complete silencing of ministerial logic, that his place cannot be abolished ; then gallantly, turning to the Queen, surrenders it, since her Majesty so wishes. Less chivalrous was Duke de Coigny, and yet not luckier : " We got into a real quarrel, Coigny and I," said King Louis; "but if he had even struck me, I could not have blamed him." a In re- gard to such matters there can be but one opinion. Baron Besenval, with that frankness of speech which stamps the in- dependent man, plainly assures her Majesty that it is frightful (affreux) ; " you go to bed, and are not sure but you shall rise impoverished on the morrow : one might as well be in Turkey." It is indeed a dog's life. How singular this perpetual distress of the royal treasury! And yet it is a thing not more incredible than undeniable. A thing mournfully true : the stumbling-block on which all Minis- ters successively stumble, and fall. Be it " want of fiscal gen- ^ ius," or some far other want, there is the palpablcst discrep- ancy between Revenue and Expenditure ; a Deficit of the - Revenue : you must " choke (comblcr) the Deficit." or else it will swallow you ! This is the stern problem ; hopeless seem- a Besenval, iii. 255-58. 1783] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 57 ingly as squaring of the circle. Controller Joly de Fleury, who succeeded Necker, could do nothing with it; nothing but pro- . pose loans, which were tardily filled up ; impose new taxes, un- 1 J^ productive of money, productive of clamor and discontent. As_ little could Controller d'Ormesson do, or even less ; for if Joly maintained himself beyond year and day, D'Ormesson reckons only by months : till "the King purchased Rambouillet without consulting him," which he took as a hint to withdraw. And so, towards the end of 1783, matters threaten to come to a still- stand. Vain seems human ingenuity. In vain has our newly- devised " Council of Finances " struggled, our Intendants of Finance, Controller-General of Finances : there are unhappily no Finances to control. Fatal paralysis invades the social movement ; clouds, of blindness or of blackness, envelop us : are we breaking down, then, into the black horrors of National Bankruptcy ? Great is Bankruptcy : the great bottomless gulf into which all Falsehoods, public and private, do sink, disappearing; whither, from the first origin of them, they were all doomed. For Nature is true and not a lie. No lie you can speak or act but it will come, after longer or shorter circulation, like a Bill drawn on Nature's Reality, and be presented there for pay- ment — with the answer. No effects. Pity only that it often had so long a circulation : that the original forger were so seldom he who bore the final smart of it ! Lies, and the burden of evil they bring, are passed on; shifted from back to back, and from rank to rank ; and so land ultimately on the dumb lowest rank, who with spade and mattock, with sore heart and empty wallet, daily come in contact with reality, and can pass the cheat no further. Observe nevertheless how, by a just compensating law, if the lie with its burden (in this confused whirlpool of Society) sinks and is shifted ever downwards, then in return the dis- tress of it rises ever upwards and upwards. Whereby, after the long pining and demi-starvation of those Twenty Millions, a Duke de Coigny and his Majesty come also to have their "real quarrel." Such is the law of just Nature; bringing, though at long intervals, and were it only by Bankruptcy, matters round again to the mark. But with a Fortunatus' Purse in his pocket, through what length of time might not almost any Falsehood last ! Your 58 CARLYLE [1783 Society, your Household, practical or spiritual Arrangements, is untrue, unjust, offensive to the eye of God and man. Never- theless its heart is warm, its larder well replenished ; the innumberable Swiss of Heaven, with a kind of natural loyalty, gather round it ; will prove, by pamphleteering, musketeering, that it is a truth ; or if not an unmixed (unearthly, impossible) Truth, then better, a wholesomely attempered one (as wind is to the shorn lamb), and works well. Changed outlook,-) however, when purse and larder grow empty ! Was your Ar- - - rangement so true, so accordant to Nature's ways, then how, in the name of wonder, has Nature, with her infinite bounty, come to leave it famishing there? To all men, to all women and all children, it is now indubitable that your Arrange- ment was false. Honor to Bankruptcy ; ever righteous on the great scale, though in detail it is so cruel! Under all Falsehoods it works, unweariedly mining. No Falsehood, did it rise heaven-high and cover the world, but Bankruptcy, one day, will sweep it down, and make us free of it. Chapter II. — Controller Calonne. Under such circumstances of tristesse, obstruction and sick languor, when to an exasperated Court it seems as if fiscal genius had departed from among men, what apparition could be welcomer than that of M. de Calonne? Calonne, a man of indisputable genius ; even fiscal genius, more or less ; of experience both in managing Finance and Parlements, for he has been Intendant at Metz, at Lille ; King's Procureur at Douai. A man of weight, connected with the moneyed classes ; of unstained name — if it were not some peccadillo (of showing a Client's Letter) in that old D'Aiguillon-Lacha- lotais business, as good as forgotten now. He has kinsmen of heavy purse, felt on the Stock Exchange. Our Foulons, Ber- thiers intrigue for him : — old Foulon, who has now nothing to do but intrigue ; who is known and even seen to be what they call a scoundrel ; but of unmeasured wealth ; who, from Com- missariat-clerk which he once was, may hope, some think, if the game go right, to be Minister himself one day. Such propping and backing has M. dc Calonne ; and then intrinsically such qualities ! Hope radiates from his face ; persuasion hangs on his tongue. For all straits he has present ^ 4/ 1783] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 59 remedy, and will make the world roll on wheels before him. On the 3d of November, 1783, the (Eil-de-Boeuf rejoices in its new Controller-General. Calonne also shall have trial ; Calonne also, in his way, as Turgot and Necker had done in theirs, shall forward the consummation ; suffuse, with one other flush of brilliancy, our now too leaden-colored Era of Hope, and wind it up — into fulfilment. Great, in any case, is the felicity of the Qlil-de-Boeuf. Stinginess has fled from these royal abodes : suppression ceases ; your Besenval may go peaceably to sleep, sure that he shall awake unplundered. Smiling Plenty, as if conjured by some enchanter, has returned ; scatters contentment from her new- flowing horn. And mark what suavity of manners ! A bland smile distinguishes our Controller: to all men he listens with an air of interest, nay of anticipation ; makes their own wish clear to themselves, and grants it; or at least, grants con- ditional promise of it. " I fear this is a matter of difficulty," said her Majesty. — " Madame," answered the Controller, " if it is but difficult, it is done ; if it is impossible, it shall be done (sc fcra)." A man of such "facility" withal. To ob- serve him in the pleasure-vortex of society, which none par- takes of with more gusto, you might ask, When does he work ? And yet his work, as we see, is never behindhand ; above all, the fruit of his work: ready-money. Truly a man of incredible facility ; facile action, facile elocution, facile thought: how, in mild suasion, philosophic depth sparkles up from him, as mere wit and lambent sprightliness ; and in her Majesty's Soirees, with the weight of a world lying on him, he is the delight of men and women ! By what magic does he accomplish miracles? By the only true magic, that of genius. Men name him " the Minister ;" as indeed, when was there another such ? Crooked things are become straight by him, rough places plain ; and over the CEil-de-Boeuf there rests an unspeakable sunshine. ) Nay, in seriousness, let no man say that Calonne had not genius : genius for Persuading ; before all things, for Bor- L..rowing. With the skilfulcst judicious appliances of underhand money, he keeps the Stock-Exchanges flourishing ; so that Loan after Loan is filled up as soon as opened. " Calculators likely to know "a have calculated that he spent, in extraordi- a Besenval, iii. 216. 6o CARLYLE [1783—86 naries, " at the rate of one million daily ; " which indeed is some fifty thousand pounds sterling: but did he not procure something with it; namely peace and prosperity, for the time being ? Philosophedom grumbles and croaks ; buys, as we t said, 80,000 copies of Necker's new Book: but NonpareiK' Calonne, in her Majesty's Apartment, with the glittering retinue of Dukes, Duchesses, and mere happy admiring faces, can let Necker and Philosophedom croak. The misery is, such a time cannot last! Squandering, and'^ j^ Payment by Loan is no way to choke a Deficit. Neither is oil J the substance for quenching conflagrations ; — alas no, only for assuaging them, not permanently ! To the Nonpareil himself, who wanted not insight, it is clear at intervals, and dimly cer- tain at all times, that his trade is by nature temporary, grow- ing daily more difficult; that changes incalculable lie at no great distance. Apart from financial Deficit, the world is wholly in such a newfangled humor ; all things working loose from their old fastenings, towards new issues and combina- tions. There is not a dwarf jokei, a cropt Brutus'-head, or Anglomaniac horseman rising on his stirrups, that does not betoken change. But what then ? The day, in any case, passes pleasantly ; for the morrow, if the morrow come, there shall be counsel too. Once mounted (by munificence, suasion, magic of genius) high enough in favor with the Qiil-de-Boeuf, with the King, Queen, Stock-Exchange, and so far as possible with all men, a Nonpareil Controller may hope to go career- ing through the Inevitable, in some unimagined way, as handsomely as another. At all events, for these three miraculous years, it has been expedient heaped on expedient : till now, with such cumula- tion and height, the pile topples perilous. And here has this world's-wonder of a Diamond Necklace brought it at last to the clear verge of tumbling. Genius in that direction can no more : mounted high enough, or not mounted, we must fare forth. Hardly is poor Rohan, the Necklace-Cardinal, safely bestowed in the Auvergne Mountains, Dame de Lamotte (unsafely) in the Salpetriere, and that mournful business hushed up, when our sanguine Controller once more aston- ishes the world. An expedient, unheard of for these hun- dred and sixty years, has been propounded ; and, by dine of suasion (for his light audacity, his hope and eloquence are 1787] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 61 matchless) has been got adopted — Convocation of the j Notables. Let notable persons, the actual and virtual rulers of their districts, be summoned from all sides of France: let a true tale, of his Majesty's patriotic purposes and wretched pecu- niary impossibilities, be suasively told them ; and then the question put : What are we to do ? Surely to adopt healing measures; such as the magic of genius will unfold; such as, once sanctioned by Notables, all Parlements and all men must, with more or less reluctance, submit to. Chapter III.— The Notables. Here, then, is verily a sign and wonder ; visible to the whole world ; bodeful of much. The CEil-de-Bceuf dolorously grumbles ; were we not well as we stood — quenching con- flagrations by oil? Constitutional Philosophedom starts with joyful suprise, stares eagerly what the result will be. The public creditor, the public debtor, the whole thinking and thoughtless public have their several surprises, joyful or sor- rowful. Count Mirabeau, who has got his matrimonial and other Lawsuits huddled up, better or worse ; and works now in the dimmest element at Berlin ; compiling Prussian Mon- archies, Pamphlets On Cagliostro; writing, with pay, but not with honorable recognition, innumerable Despatches for his Government — scents or descries richer quarry from afar. He,n like an eagle or vulture, or mixture of both, preens his wings j for flight homewards.^ M. de Calonne has stretched out an Aaron's Rod over France ; miraculous ; and is summoning quite unexpected things. Audacity and hope alternate in him with misgivings ; though the sanguine-valiant side carries it. Anon he writes to an intimate friend, " Je me fais pitie a moi-mcme (I am an object of pity to myself) ;" anon invites some dedicating Poet or Poetaster to sing " this Assembly of the Notables, and the Revolution that is preparing.''^ Preparing indeed ; and a matter to be sung — only not till we have seen it, and what the issue of it is. In deep obscure unrest, all things have so long gone rocking and swaying: will M. de Calonne, h Fils Atloptif, Mcmoircs de Mirahcau. t. iv. livv. 4 et 5. c Biographic Universcllc, § Calonne (by Guizot). 62 CARLYLE [1787 with this his alchemy of the Notables, fasten all together again, and get new revenues ? Or wrench all asunder ; so that it go no longer rocking and swaying, but clashing and colliding? Be this as it may, in the bleak short days, we behold men of weight and influence threading the great vortex of French Locomotion, each on his several line, from all sides of France, towards the Chateau of Versailles : summoned thither de par le roi. There, on the 22d day of February, 1787, they have met, and got installed : Notables to the number of a Hundred and Thirty-seven, as we count them name by name ;rf and i ^ Seven Princes of the Blood, it makes the round Gross of Notables. Men of the sword, men of the robe ; Peers, digni- fied Clergy, Parlementary Presidents ; divided into Seven Boards {Bureaux) ; under our Seven Princes of the Blood, Monsieur, D'Artois, Penthievre, and the rest ; among whom let not our new Duke d'Orleans (for, since 1785, he is Chartres no longer) be forgotten. Never yet made Admiral, and now turning the corner of his fortieth year, with spoiled blood and prospects ; half-weary of a world which is more than half-weary of him, Monseigneur's future is most question- able. Not in illumination and insight, not even in conflagra- ■ , rtion ; but, as was said, " in dull smoke and ashes of outburnt ^ (.sensualities," does he live and digest. Sumptuosity and sordid- ness; revenge, life-weariness, ambition, darkness, putrescence; and, say, in sterling money, three hundred thousand a year — were this poor Prince once to burst loose from his Court- moorings, to what regions, with what phenomena, might he not sail and drift ! Happily as yet he " affects to hunt daily ;" sits there, since he must sit, presiding that Bureau of his, with dull moon-visage, dull glassy eyes, as if it were a mere tedium to him. We observe finally that Count Mirabeau has actually ar- rived. He descends from Berlin, on the scene of action ; glares into it with flashing sun-glance ; discerns that it will do noth- ing for him. He had hoped these Notables might need a Secretary. They do need one; but have fixed on Dupont de Nemours; a man of smaller fame, but then of better; — who indeed, as his friends often hear, labors under this com- plaint, surely not a universal one, of having " five kings to d Lacrctclle, iii. 286. Montgaillard, i. 347. February] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 63 correspond with."^ The pen of a Mirabeau cannot become an official one ; nevertheless it remains a pen. In defect of Secretaryship, he sets to denouncing Stock-brokerage {De- -^ nonciation de l' Agiotage) ; testifying, as his wont is, by loud ■, bruit, that he is present and busy ; — till, warned by friend Talleyrand, and even by Calonne himself underhand, that " a seventeenth Lcttre-de-Cachct may be launched against him," he timefully flits over the marches. And nov/, in stately royal apartments, as Pictures of that time still represent them, our hundred and forty-four Notables sit organized ; ready to hear and consider. Controller Calonne is dreadfully behindhand with his speeches, his preparatives ; however, the man's " facility of work " is known to us. For freshness of style, lucidity, ingenuity, largeness of view, that opening Harangue of his was unsurpassable: — had not the subject-matter been so appalling. A Deficit, concerning which accounts vary, and the Controller's own account is not unques- tioned ; but which all accounts agree in representing as " enor- mous." This is the epitome of our Controller's difficulties; ■and then his means? Mere Turgotism ; for thither, it seems, we must come at last : Provincial Assemblies ; new Taxation ; nay, strangest of all, new Land-tax, what he calls Subvention -d Tcrritoriale, from which neither Privileged nor Unprivileged, Noblemen, Clergy, nor Parlementeers, shall be exempt! Foolish enough ! These Privileged Classes have been used to tax; levying toll, tribute and custom, at all hands, while a penny was left: but to be themselves taxed? Of such Privileged persons, meanwhile, do these Notables, all but the merest fraction, consist. Headlong Calonne had given no heed to the " composition," or judicious packing of them ; but chosen such Notables as were really notable ; trusting for the issue to off-hand ingenuity, good fortune, and elo- quence that never yet failed. Headlong Controller-General! Eloquence can do much, but not all. Orpheus, with eloquence J grown rhythmic, musical (what we call Poetry), drew ir(3n tears from the cheek of Pluto: but by what witchery of rhyme or prose wilt thou from the pocket of Plutus draw gold? Accordingly, the storm that now rose and began to whistle round Calonne, first in these Seven Bureaus, and then on the c Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau (Paris, 1832), p. 20. 64 CARLYLE [1787 outside of them, awakened by them, spreading wider and wider over all France, threatens to become unappeasable. A Deficit so enormous ! Mismanagement, profusion is too clear. Peculation itself is hinted at ; nay, Lafayette and others go so far as to speak it out, with attempts at proof. The blame of his Deficit our brave Calonne, as was natural, had en- deavored to shift from himself on his predecessors ; not ex- cepting even Necker. But now Necker vehemently denies ; ^ whereupon an " angry Correspondence," which also finds Its \ way into print. In the GEil-de-Boeuf, and her Majesty's private Apart- ments, an eloquent Controller, with his " Madame, if it is but difficult," had been persuasive : but, alas, the cause is now carried elsewhither. Behold him, one of these sad days, in Monsieur's Bureau ; to which all the other Bureaus have sent deputies. He is standing at bay : alone ; exposed to an in- cessant fire of questions, interpellations, objurgations, from those " hundred and thirty-seven " pieces of logic-ordnance — what we may well call touches a feu, fire-mouths literally ! ■ Never, according to Besenval, or hardly ever, had such display of intellect, dexterity, coolness, suasive eloquence, been made by man. To the raging play of so many fire-mouths he opposes nothing angrier than light-beams, self-possession and fatherly smiles. With the imperturbablest bland clearness, he, for five hours long, keeps answering the incessant volley of fiery cap- tious questions, reproachful interpellations ; in words prompt as lightning, quiet as light. Nay, the cross-fire too : such side- questions and incidental interpellations as, in the heat of the main-battle, he (having only one tongue) could not get an- swered ; these also he takes up, at the first slake ; answers even these.o Could blandest suasive eloquence have saved France, she were saved. Heavy-laden Controller ! In the Seven Bureaus seems nothing but hindrance : in Monsieur's Bureau, a Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, with an eye himself to the Controllership, stirs up the Clergy ; there are meetings, under- ground intrigues. Neither from without anywhere comes sign of help or hope. For the Nation (where Mirabeau is now, with stentor-lungs, "denouncing Agio") the Controller has hitherto done nothing, or less. For Philosophcdom he has o Besenval, iii. 196. March- April] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 65 done as good as nothing — sent out some scientific Laperouse, or the hke : and is he not in " angry correspondence " with its Neckcr ? The very CEil-de-Boeuf looks questionable ; a falling Controller has no friends. Solid M. de Vergennes, who with his phlegmatic judicious punctuality might have kept down many things, died the very week before these sorrow- ful Notables met. And now a Seal-keeper, Gardc-dcs-Sccaux Miromenil is thought to be playing the traitor: spinning plots for Lomenie-Brienne ! Queen's-Reader Abbe de Vermond, unloved individual, was Brienne's creature, the work of his hands from the first : it may be feared the backstairs passage is open, the ground getting mined under our feet. Treacherous Garde-dcs-Sceaux Miromenil, at least, should be dismissed ; Lamoignon, the eloquent Notable, a stanch man, with con- nections, and even ideas, Parlement-Prcsident yet intent on reforming Parlements, were not he the right Keeper? So, for one, thinks busy Besenval; and, at dinner-table, rounds the same into the Controller's ear — who always, in the inter- vals of landlord-duties, listens to him as with charmed look, but answers nothing positive.^ Alas, what to answer ? The force of private intrigue, and then also the force of public opinion, grows so dangerous, con- fused ! Philosophedom sneers aloud, as if its Necker already triumphed. The gaping populace gapes over Wood-cuts or Copper-cuts ; where, for example, a Rustic is represented convoking the Poultry of his barnyard, with this opening ad- dress : " Dear animals, I have assembled you to advise me what sauce I shall dress you with ;" to which a Cock respond- ing, " We don't want to be eaten," is checked by " You wander from the point (Voits vous ccartcs de la question). ''c Laughter and logic, ballad-singer, pamphleteer ; epigram and carica- ture : what wind of public opinion is this — as if the Cave of the Winds were bursting loose! At nightfall, President La- moignon steals over to the Controller's; finds him "walking with large strides in his chamber, like one out of himself. "<^ With rapid confused speech the Controller begs M. de La- moignon to give him " an advice." Lamoignon candidly an- swers that, except in regard to his own anticipated Keeper- h lb. iii. 203. c Republished in the Miisee de la Caricature (Paris, 1834). d Besenval, iii. 209. Vol. I. -5 66 CARLYLE [1787 ship, unless that would prove remedial, he really cannot take upon him to advise. " On the Monday after Easter," the 9th of April 1787, a date one rejoices to verify, for nothing can excel the indolent falsehood of these Histoires and Mcmoires — " On the Alon- day after Easter, as I, Besenval, was riding towards Romain- ville to the Marechal de Segur's, I met a friend on the Boule- vards, who told me that M. de Calonne was out. A little further on came M. the Duke d'Orleans, dashing towards me, head to the wind" (trotting a I'Anglaisc), "and confirmed the news."^ It is true news. Treacherous Garde-des-Sceaux Miromenil is gone, and Lamoignon is appointed in his room:, but appointed for his own profit only, not for the Controller's : " next day " the Controller also has had to move. A little longer he may linger near ; be seen among the money-changers, and even '' working in the Controller's office," where much lies unfinished : but neither will that hold. Too strong blows and beats this tempest of public opinion, of private intrigue, as from the Cave of all the Winds; and blows him (higher Authority giving sign) out of Paris and France — over the horizon, into Invisibility, or outer Darkness. Such destiny the magic of genius could not forever avert. Ungrateful Qilil-de-Bceuf ! did he not miraculously rain gold manna on you ; so that, as a Courtier said, " All the world held out its hand, and I held out my hat " — for a time? Him- self is poor ; penniless, had not a " Financier's widow in Lorraine " ofifered him, though he was turned of fifty, her hand and the rich purse it held. Dim henceforth shall be his activity, though unwearied : Letters to the King, Appeals, Prognostications; Pamphlets (from London), written with the old suasive facility ; which however do not persuade. Luckily his widow's purse fails not. Once, in a year or two, some shadow of him shall be seen hovering on the Northern Border, seeking election as National Deputy ; but be sternly beckoned away. Dimmer then, far-borne over utmost European lands, in uncertain twilight of diplomacy, he shall hover, intriguing for " Exiled Princes," and have adventures ; be overset into the Rhine-stream and half-drowned, nevertheless save his papers dry. Unwearied, but in vain! In France he works miracles no more; shall hardly return thither to find a grave. e lb. iii. 211. April-May] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 67 Farewell, thou facile sanguine Controller-General, with thy light rash hand, thy suasive mouth of gold : worse men there have been, and better; but to thee also was allotted a task — of raising the wind, and the winds ; and thou hast done it. But now, while Ex-Controller Calonne flies storm-driven / over the horizon, in this singular way, what has become of the ^ Controllership ? It hangs vacant, one may say ; extinct, like the Moon in her vacant interlunar cave. Two preliminary shadows, poor M. Fourqueux, poor M. Villedeuil, do hold, in quick succession, some simulacrum of itf — as the new Moon will sometimes shine out with a dim preliminary old one in her arms. Be patient, ye Notables ! An actual new Controller is certain, and even ready ; were the indispensable manoeuvres but gone through. Long-headed Lamoignon, with Home- Secretary Breteuil, and Foreign Secretary Montmorin have exchanged looks ; let these three once meet and speak. Who is it that is strong in the Queen's favor, and the Abbe de Ver- mond's? That is a man of great capacity? Or at least that has struggled, these fifty years, to have it thought great ; now, in the Clergy's name, demanding to have Protestant death- penalties " put in execution ;" now flaunting it in the QEil- de-Boeuf, as the gayest man-pleaser and woman-pleaser ; glean- ing even a good word from Philosophedom and your Vol- taires and D'Alemberts? That has a party ready-made for him in the Notables? — Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse ! answer all the three, with the clearest instantaneous- concord ; and rush off to propose him to the King ; " in such haste," says Besenval, " that M. de Lamoignon had to bor- row a siniarre," seemingly some kind of cloth apparatus neces- sary for that.g Lomenie-Brienne, who had all his life " felt a kind of pre- destination for the highest ofifices," has now therefore obtained ..-them. He presides over the Finances; he shall have the title of Prime Minister itself, and the effort of his long life be , realized. Unhappy only that it took such talent and industry to gain the place ; that to qualify for it hardly any talent or industry was left disposable ! Looking now into his inner man, what qualification he may have, Lomenie beholds, not without astonishment, next to nothing but vacuity and pos- sibility. Principles or methods, acqm'rcment outward or in- / Besenval, iii. 225. g lb. iii. 224. 68 CARLYLE [1787 ward (for his very body is wasted, by hard tear and wear) he finds none ; not so much as a plan, even an unwise one. Lucky, in these circumstances, that Calonne has had a plan ! Calonne's plan was gathered from Turgot's and Necker's by compilation ; shall become Lomenie's by adoption. Not in vain has Lomenie studied the working of the British Con- stitution ; for he professes to have some Anglomania, of a sort. Why, in that free country, does one Minister, driven out by Parliament, vanish from his King's presence, and an- other enter, borne in by Parliament ?^f Surely not for mere change (which is ever wasteful) ; but that all men may have share of what is going; and so the strife of Freedom in- definitely prolong itself, and no harm be done. The Notables, mollified by Easter festivities, by the sacri- fice of Calonne, are not in the worst humor. Already his Majesty, while the " interlunar shadows " were in office, had held session of Notables ; and from his throne delivered promissory conciliatory eloquence : " the Queen stood wait- ing at a window, till his carriage came back ; and Monsieur from afar clapped hands to her," in sign that all was weW.i It has had the best effect ; if such do but last. Leading Notables meanwhile can be " caressed ;" Brienne's new gloss, Lamoignon's long head will profit somewhat; conciliatory eloquence shall not be wanting. On the whole, however, is it not undeniable that this of ousting Calonne and adopting the plans of Calonne, is a measure which, to produce its best effect, should be looked at from a certain distance, cursorily ; not dwelt on with minute near scrutiny? In a word, that no service the Notables could now do were so obliging as, in some handsome manner, to — take themselves away ? Their , " Six Propositions " about Provisional Assemblies, suppression W of Corvccs and suchlike, can be accepted without criticism. / The Subvention or Land-tax, and much else, one must glide hastily over ; safe nowhere but in flourishes of conciliatory eloquence. Till at length, on this 25th of May, year 1787, in solemn final session, there bursts forth what we can call an explosion of eloquence ; King, Lomenie, Lamoignon and retinue taking up the successive strain ; in harangues to the number of ten, besides his Majesty's, which last the livelong h Montgaillard, Ilistoire de France, i. 410-17. i Bescnval, iii. 220. April-May] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 69 clay ; — whereby, as in a kind of choral anthem, or bravura peal, of thanks, praises, promises, the Notables are, so to speak, organed out, and dismissed to their respective places of abode. They had sat, and talked, some nine weeks : they were the 'Y^l^ first Notables since Richelieu's, in the year 1626. By some Historians, sitting much at their ease, in the safe distance, Lomenie has been blamed for this dismissal of his Notables : nevertheless it was clearly time. There are things, as we said, which should not be dwelt on with minute close scrutiny : over hot coals you cannot glide too fast. In these Seven Bureaus, where no work could be done, unless talk were work, the questionablest matters were coming up. La- fayette, for example, in Monseigneur d'Artois' Bureau, took upon him to set forth more than one deprecatory oration about Lcttres-de-Cachet, Liberty of the Subject, Agio, and such- like ; which Monseigneur endeavoring to repress, was an- swered that a Notable being summoned to speak his opinion must speak it./ Thus too his Grace the Archbishop of Aix perorating once, with a plaintive pulpit-tone, in these words : " Tithe, that free- will offering of the piety of Christians " — " Tithe," inter- rupted Duke la Rochefoucault, with the cold business-manner he has learned from the English, " that free-will offering of the piety of Christians ; on which there are now forty-thou- sand lawsuits in this realm. "/>; Nay, Lafayette, bound to-" speak his opinion, went the length, one day, of proposing to convoke a " National Assembly." " You demand States- General ?" asked Monseigneur with an air of minatory sur- prise. — " Yes, Monseigneur ; and even better than that." — " Write it," said Monseigneur to the Clerks.' — Written accord- ingly it is ; and what is more, will be acted by and by. j Montgaillard, i. 360. k Duinont, Souvenirs sur Mirabcau. p. 21. / Toulongeon, Histoire de France dcpuis la Revolution de 1789 (Paris, 1803), i. app. 4. 70 CARLYLE [1787 Chapter IV. — Lomenie's Edicts. Thus, then, have the Notables returned home ; carrying, to all quarters of France, such notions of deficit, decrepitude, distraction ; and that States-General will cure it, or will not cure it but kill it. Each Notable, we may fancy, is as a funereal torch ; disclosing hideous abysses, better left hid ! The unquietest humor possesses all men ; ferments, seeks issue, in pamphleteering, caricaturing, projecting, declaiming; vain jangling of thought, word and deed. It is Spiritual Bankruptcy, long tolerated ; verging now towards Economical Bankruptcy, and become intolerable. For from the lowest dumb rank, the inevitable misery, as was predicted, has spread upwards. In every man is some obscure feeling that his position, oppressive or else oppressed, is a false one : all men, in one or the other acrid dialect, as assaulters or as defenders, must give vent to the unrest that is in them. Of such stufif national well-being, and the glory of rulers, is not made. O Lomenie, what a wild-heaving, waste-looking, hungry and angry world hast thou, after life- long effort, got promoted to take charge of ! Lomenie's first Edicts are mere soothing ones : Creation of Provincial Assemblies, " for apportioning the imposts," when we get any ; suppression of Corvees or statute-labor ; allevia- tion of Gahclle. Soothing measures, recommended by the Notables ; long clamored for by all liberal men. Oil cast on the waters has been known to produce a good efifect. Before venturing with great essential measures. Lomenie will sec this singular " swell of the public mind " abate somewhat. Most proper, surely. But what if it were not a swell of the abating kind? There are swells that come of upper tempest and wind-gust. But again there are swells that come of sub- terranean pent wind, some say ; and even of inward decom- position, of decay that has become self-combustion: — as when, according to Ncptuno-Plutonic Geology, the World is all de- cayed down into due attritus of this sort ; and shall now be exploded, and new-made ! These latter abate not by oil. — The fool says in his heart. How shall not to-morrow be as yesterday ; as all days — which were once to-morrows ? The wise man, looking on this France, moral, intellectual, eco- May-June] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 71 nomical, sees. " in short, all the symptoms he has ever meti with in history," — Mnabatable by soothing Edicts. "-' Meanwhile, abate or not, cash must be had ; and for that, quite another sort of Edicts, namely " bursal " or fiscal ones. How easy were fiscal Edicts, did you know for certain that the Parlement of Paris would what they call " register " them ! such right of registering, properly of mere writing down, the Parlement has got by old wont ; and, though but a Law- Court, can remonstrate, and higgle considerably about the same. Hence many quarrels ; desperate Maupeou devices, and victory and defeat ; — a quarrel now near forty years long. Hence fiscal Edicts, which otherwise were easy enough, be- come such problems. For example, is there not Calonne's Subvention Territoriale, universal, unexempting Land-tax ; the sheet anchor of Finance? Or, to show, so far as pos- sible, that one is not without original finance talent, Lomenie himself can devise an Edit du Timbre or Stamp-tax — bor- rowed also, it is true ; but then from America : may it prove luckier in France than there ! France has her resources : nevertheless, it cannot be denied, the aspect of that Parlement is questionable. Already among the Notables, in that final symphony of dismissal, the Paris President had an ominous tone. Adrien Duport, quitting mag- netic sleep, in this agitation of the world, threatens to rouse himself into preternatural wakefulness. Shallower but also louder, there is magnetic D'Espremenil, with his tropical heat (he was born at Madras) ; with his dusky confused violence; holding of Illumination, Animal Magnetism, Public Opinion, AdamWeisshaupt, Harmodius and Aristogiton, and all manner of confused violent things : of whom can come no good. The very Peerage is infected with the leaven. Our Peers have, in too many cases, laid aside their frogs, laces, bagwigs ; and go about in English costume, or ride rising in their stirrups — in the most headlong manner ; nothing but insubordina- tion, eleutheromania, confused unlimited opposition in their heads. Questionable: not to be ventured upon, if wc had a Fortunatus' Purse ! But Lomenie has waited all June, cast- ing on the waters what oil he had ; and now, betide as it may, the two Finance Edicts must out. On the 6th of July, he - forwards his proposed Stamp-tax and Land-tax to the Parle- ment of Paris; and, as if putting his own leg foremost, not 72 CARLYLE [1787 his borrowed Calonne's leg, places the Stamp-tax first in order. Alas, the Parlement will not register: the Parlement de- mands instead a " state of the expenditure," a " state of the contemplated reductions ;" " states " enough ; which his Majesty must decline to furnish ! Discussions arise ; patriotic eloquence: the Peers are summoned. Does the Nemean Lion begin to bristle ? Here surely is a duel, which France and the Universe may look upon : with prayers ; at lowest, with curi- osity and bets. Paris stirs with new animation. The outer courts of the Palais de Justice roll with unusual crowds, coming and going; their huge outer hum mingles with the clang of patriotic eloquence within, and gives vigor to it. Poor Lomenie gazes from the distance, little comforted ; has his invisible emissaries flying to and fro, assiduous, without result. So pass the sultry dog-days, in the most electric manner ; and the whole month of July. And still, in the Sanctuary of Justice, sounds nothing but Harmodius-Aristogiton eloquence, environed with the hum of crowding Paris ; and no registering accomplished, and no "states" furnished. "States?" said a lively Parlementeer : " Messieurs, the states that should be furnished us, in my opinion are the States-General" OnJ ^ which timely joke there follow cachinnatory buzzes of approval. What a word to be spoken in the Palais de Justice ! Old D'Ormesson (the Ex-Controller's uncle) shakes his judicious head; far enough from laughing. But the outer courts, and Paris and France, catch the glad sound, and repeat it ; shall repeat it, and re-echo and reverberate it, till it grow a deafening peal. Clearly enough here is no registering to be thought of. The pious Proverb says, "There are remedies for all things but death." When a Parlement refuses registering, the remedy, by long practice, has become familiar to the simplest : a Bed of Justice. One complete month this Parlement has spent in mere idle jargoning, and sound and hiry ; the Timbre Edict not registered, or like to be ; the Subvention not yet so much as spoken of. On the 6th of August let the whole refractory Body roll out, in wheeled vehicles, as far as the King's Chateau of Versailles ; there shall the King, holding his Bed of Justice, order them, by his own royal lips, to register. They may re- monstrate, in an under tone ; but they must obey, lest a worst unknown thing befall them. July] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 73 It is done : the Parlement has rolled out, on royal summons ; has heard the express royal order to register. Whereupon it has rolled back again, amid the hushed expectancy of men. And now, behold, on the morrow, this Parlement, seated once more in its own Palais, with " crowds inundating the outer courts," not only does not register, but (O portent!) declares all that was done on the prior day to be null, and the Bed of Justice as good as a futility ! In the history of France here verily is a new -^ feature. Nay better still, our heroic Parlement, getting sud- denly enlightened on several things, declares that, for its part, it is incompetent to register Tax-edicts at all, — having done it by mistake, during these late centuries ; that for such act one authority only is competent: the assembled Three Estates of the Realm ! To such length can the universal spirit of a Nation penetrate the most isolated Body-corporate: say rather, with such weapons, homicidal, in exasperated political duel, will Bodies- corporate fight ! But, in any case, is not this the real death- grapple of war and internecine duel, Greek meeting Greek, whereon men, had they even no interest in it, might look with interest unspeakable ? Crowds, as was said, inundate the outer courts : inundation of young eleutheromaniac Noblemen in English costume, uttering audacious speeches ; of Procureurs, Basoche-Clerks, who are idle in these days ; of Loungers, News- mongers and other nondescript classes, — rolls tumultuous there. "From three to four thousand persons," waiting eagerly to hear •X the Arrctcs (Resolutions) you arrive at within; applauding with bravos, with the clapping of from six to eight thousand hands ! Sweet also is the need of patriotic eloquence, when your D'Espremenil, your Freteau, or Sabaticr, issuing from his Demosthenic Olympus, the thunder being hushed for the day, is welcomed, in the outer courts, with a shout from four thou- sand throats ; is borne home shoulder-high "with benedictions," and strikes the stars with his sublime head. 74 CARLYLE [1787 Chapter V. — Lomenie's Thunderbolts. Arise, Lomenie-Brienne : here is no case for " Letters of Jussion ; " for faltering or compromise. Thou seest the whole loose fluent population of Paris (whatsoever is not solid, and fixed to work) inundating these outer courts, like a loud de- structive deluge ; the very Basoche of Lawyers' Clerks talks sedition. The lower classes, in this duel of Authority with Authority, Greek throttling Greek, have ceased to respect the City- Watch : Police-satellites are marked on the back with chalk (the M signifies mouchard, spy) ; they are hustled, hunted like ferc€ naturco. Subordinate rural Tribunals send messen- gers of congratulation, of adherence. Their Fountain of Justice is becoming a Fountain of Revolt. The Provincial Parlements look on, with intent eye, with breathless wishes, while their elder sister of Paris does battle: the whole Twelve are of one blood and temper ; the victory of one is that of all. Ever worse it grows : on the loth of August, there is "Plainte" emitted touching the "prodigalities of Calonne," and permission to " proceed " against him. No registering, but instead of it, denouncing : of dilapidation, peculation ; and ever the burden of the song, States-General ! Have the royal armories no thunderbolt, that thou couldst, O Lomenie, with red right-hand, launch it among these Demosthenic theatrical thunder-barrels, mere resin and noise for most part ; — and shatter, and smite them silent? On the night of the 14th of August, LomeYiie launches his thunderbolt, or handful of them. Letters named of the Seal (dc Cachet), as many as needful, some sixscore and odd, are delivered overnight. And so, next day betimes, the whole Parlement, once more set on wheels, is rolling incessantly towards Troyes in Champagne ; " escorted," says History, " with the blessings of all people ; " the very inn- keepers and postilions looking gratuitously reverent.a This is the 15th of August, 1787. What will not people bless ; in their extreme need ! Seldom had the Parlement of Paris deserved much blessing, or received much. An isolated Body-corporate, which, out of old con- fusions (while the Sceptre of the Sword was confusedly strug- gling to become a Sceptre of the Pen), had got itself together, a A. Lameth, Histoirc dc I'Assemblee Constituante (Int. 73), August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 75 better and worse, as Bodies-corporate do, to satisfy some dim desire of the world, and many clear desires of individuals; and so had grown, in the course of centuries, on concession, on ac- quirement and usurpation, to be what we see it : a prosperous } Social Anomaly, deciding Lawsuits, sanctioning or rejecting Laws ; and withal disposing of its places and offices by sale for ready-money, — which method sleek President Renault, after , meditation, will demonstrate to be the indififerent-best.'' In such a Body, existing by purchase for ready-money, there could not be excess of public spirit ; there might well be excess of eagerness to divide the public spoil. Men in helmets have divided that, with swords ; men in wigs, with quill and inkhorn, do divide it : and even more hatefully these latter, if more peace- ably ; for the wig-method it at once irresistibler and baser. By long experience, says Besenval, it has been found useless to sue a Parlementeer at law ; no Officer of Justice will serve a writ on one: his wig and gown are his Vulcan's-panoply, his en- chanted cloak-of-darkness. The Parlement of Paris may count itself an unloved body ; mean, not magnanimous, on the political side. Were the King weak, always (as now) has his Parlement barked, cur-like at his heels ; with what popular cry there might be. Were he strong, it barked before his face ; hunting for him as his alert beagle. An unjust Body ; where foul influences have more than once worked shameful perversion of judgment. Does not, in these very days, the blood of murdered Lally cry aloud for vengeance? Baited, circumvented, driven mad like the snared lion, Valor had to sink extinguished under vindictive Chicane. Behold him, that hapless Lally, his wild dark soul looking through his wild dark face; trailed on the ignominious death- hurdle ; the voice of his despair choked by a wooden gag ! The wild fire-soul that has known only peril and toil ; and, for three- score years, has buffeted against Fate's obstruction and men's perfidy, like genius and courage amid poltroonery, dishonesty and commonplace; faithfully enduring and endeavoring, — O Parlement of Paris, dost thou reward it with a gibbet and a gag?f The dying Lally bequeathed his memory to his boy; a j young Lally has arisen, demanding redress in the name of God and man. The Parlement of Paris does its utmost to defend b AhrcRc Chronologiquc, p. 075- cgth May 1766: Biographic Univcrscllc, § Lally. 76 CARLYLE [1787 the indefensible, abominable ; nay, what is singular, dusky- glowing Aristogiton d'Espremenil is the man chosen to be its spokesman in that. Such Social Anomaly is it that France now blesses. An un- clean Social Anomaly ; but in duel against another worse ! The exiled Parlement is felt to have " covered itself with glory." There are quarrels in which even Satan, bringing help, were not unwelcome ; even Satan, fighting stiffly, might cover himself with glory, — of a temporary sort. But what a stir in the outer courts of the Palais, when Paris finds its Parlement trundled off to Troyes in Champagne ; and nothing left but a few mute Keepers of Records ; the Demos- thenic thunder become extinct, the martyrs of liberty clean gone ! Confused wail and menace rises from the four thousand throats of Procureurs, Basoche-Clerks, Nondescripts, and Anglomaniac Noblesse ; ever new idlers crowd to see and hear ; Rascality, with increasing numbers and vigor, hunts moiichards. \i Loud whirlpool rolls through these spaces ; the rest of the City, fixed to its work, cannot yet go rolling. Audacious placards are legible ; in and about the Palais, the speeches are as good as - seditious. Surely the temper of Paris is much changed. On the third day of this business (i8th of August), Monsieur and Monseigneur d'Artois, coming in state-carriages, according to use and wont, to have these late obnoxious Arrctcs and Protests " expunged " from the Records, are received in the most marked manner. Monsieur, who is thought to be in opposition, is met with vivats and stewed flowers: Monseigneur, on the other hand, with silence; with murmurs, which rise to hisses and groans : nay an irreverent Rascality presses towards him in floods, with such hissing vehemence, that the Captain of the Guards has to give order, " Haut les amies (Handle arms) ! " — at which thunder-word, indeed, and the flash of the clear iron, the Rascal-flood recoils, through all avenues, fast enough.^ New features these. Indeed, as good M. de Malesherbes perti- nently remarks, " it is a quite new kind of contest this with the Parlement:" no transitory sputter, as from collision of hard bodies ; but more like " the first sparks of what, if not quenched, may become a great conflagration."^ This good Malesherbes sees himself now again in the King's Council, after an absence of ten years: Lomenie would profit d Montgaillard, i. 369. Bcsenval, &c. c Montgaillard, i. 2,7^. Aug.-Sept] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 77 if not by the faculties of the man, yet by the name he has. As for the man's opinion, it is not hstened to ; — wherefore he will soon withdraw, a second time ; back to his books and his trees. - In such King's Council what can a good man profit ? Turgot tries it not a second time : Turgot has quitted France and this Earth, some years ago ; and now cares for none of these things. Singular enough: Turgot, this same Lomenie, and the Abbe Morellet were once a trio of young friends ; fellow-scholars in the Sorbonne. Forty new years have carried them severally ; thus far. Meanwhile the Parlement sits daily at Troyes, calling cases ; and daily adjourns, no Procureur making his appearance to plead. Troyes is as hospitable as could be looked for: never- theless one has comparatively a dull life. No crowds now to carry you, shoulder-high, to the immortal gods ; scarcely a Pa- triot or two will drive out so far, and bid you be of firm courage. You are in furnished lodgings, far from home and domestic comfort : little to do, but wander over the unlovely Champagne fields ; seeing the grapes ripen ; taking counsel about the thou- sand-times consulted: a prey to tedium; in danger even that Paris may forget you. Messengers come and go; pacific Lo- menie is not slack in negotiating, promising; D'Ormesson and the prudent elder Members see no good in strife. After a dull month, the Parlement, yielding and retaining, makes truce, as all Parlemcnts must. The Stamp-tax is with- drawn: the Subvention Land-tax is also withdrawn; but, in its stead, there is granted, what they call a " Prorogation of the , Second Twentieth," — itself a kind of Land-tax, but not so op- ', pressive to the Influential classes ; which lies mainly on theJ Dumb class. Moreover, secret promises exist (on the part of the Elders), that finances may be raised by Loan. Of the ugly word States-General there shall be no mention. And so, on the 20th of September, our exiled Parlement re- turns : D'Espremenil said, " it went out covered with glory, but had come back covered with mud {de hone)." Not so, Aristogiton ; or if so, thou surely art the man to clean it- 78 CARLYLE [1787 Chapter VI. — Lomenie's Plots. Was ever unfortunate Chief Minister so bested as Lomenie- Brienne? The reins of the State fairly in his hand these six months ; and not the smallest motive-power (of Finance) to stir from the spot with, this way or that ! He flourishes his whip, but advances not. Instead of ready-money, there is nothing but rebellious debating and recalcitrating. Far is the public mind from having calmed ; it goes chafing and fuming ever worse : and in the royal coffers, with such yearly Deficit running on, there is hardly the color of coin. Ominous prognostics ! Malesherbes, seeing an exhausted, ex- asperated France grow hotter and hotter, talks of " conflagra- tion : " Mirabeau, without talk, has, as we perceive, descended on Paris again, close on the rear of the Parlement,/" — not to quit his native soil any more. Over the Frontiers, behold Holland invaded by Prussia ;g the French party oppressed, England and the Stadtholder triumph- ing: to the sorrow of War-secretary Montmorin and all men. But without money, sinews of war, as of work, and of existence itself, what can a Chief Minister do? Taxes profit little: this of the Second Twentieth falls not due till next year; and will then, with its " strict valuation," produce more controversy than cash. Taxes on the Privileged Classes cannot be got registered ; are intolerable to our supporters themselves : taxes on the Unprivileged yield nothing, — as from a thing drained dry more cannot be drawn. Hope is nowhere, if not in the old refuge of Loans. To Lomenie, aided by the long head of Lamoignon, deeply pondering this sea of troubles, the thought suggested itself: Why not have a Successive Loan {Emprtint Successif), or n ^. Loan that went on lending, year after year, as much as needful ; . ^ say, till 1792? The trouble of registering such Loan were the same : we had then breathing time ; money to work with, at least to subsist on. Edict of a Successive Loan must be pro- posed. To conciliate the Philosophes, let a liberal Edict walk in front of it, for emancipation of Protestants ; let a liberal Promise guard the rear of it, that when our Loan ends, in that final 1792, the States-General shall be convoked, f FWs Adoptif, Mirabeau, iv. 1. 5. g October 1787. Montgaillard, i. 374. Besenval, iii. 283, Oct. -Nov.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 79 Such liberal Edict of Protestant Emancipation, the time hav- ing come for it, shall cost a Lomenie as little as the " Death- penalties to be put in execution " did. As for the liberal Promise, of States-General, it can be fulfilled or not : the ful- filment is five good years off; in five years much intervenes. But the registering ? Ah, truly, there is the difficulty ! — How- ever, we have that promise of the Elders, given secretly at Troyes. Judicious gratuities, cajoleries, underground in- trigues, with old Foulon, named " Ame damme. Familiar- demon, of the Parlement," may perhaps do the rest. At worst and lowest, the Royal Authority has resources, — which ought it not to put forth? If it cannot realize money, the Royal Authority is as good as dead ; dead of that surest and miserablest death, inanition. Risk and win ; without risk all is already lost ! For the rest, as in enterprises of pith, a touch of stratagem often proves furthersome, his Majesty announces a Royal Hunt, for the 19th of November next; and all whom it concerns are joy- fully getting their gear ready. Royal Hunt indeed ; but of two-legged unfeathered game \ At eleven in the morning of that Royal Hunt-day, 19th of November, 1787, unexpected blare of trumpeting, tumult of charioteering and cavalcading disturbs the Seat of Justice : his Majesty is come, with Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, and Peers and retinue, to hold Royal Session and have Edicts registered. What a change, since Louis XIV entered here, in boots ; and, whip in hand, ordered his registering to be done, — with an Olympian look, which none durst gainsay; and did, without stratagem, in such unceremonious fashion, hunt as well as re- gister !/f For Louis XVI, on this day, the Registering will be enough ; if indeed he and the day suffice for it. Meanwhile, with fit ceremonial words, the purpose of the royal breast is signified : — Two Edicts, for Protestant Emanci- pation, for Successive Loan : of both which Edicts our trusty Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon will explain the purport; on both which a trusty Parlement is requested to deliver its opin- ion, each member having free privilege of speech. And so, La- moignon too having perorated not amiss, and wound up with that Promise of States-General, — the Sphere-music of Parlc- mentary eloquence begins. Explosive, responsive, sphere an- swering sphere, it waxes louder and louder. The Peers sit at- h Dulaure, vi. 306. 8o CARLYLE [1787 tentive ; of diverse sentiment : unfriendly to States-General ; unfriendly to Despotism, which cannot reward merit, and is suppressing places. But what agitates his Highness d'Or- leans? The rubicund moon-head goes wagging; darker beams the copper visage, like unsecured copper ; in the glazed eye is disquietude ; he rolls uneasy in his seat, as if he meant something. Amid unutterable satiety, has sudden new appe- tite, for new forbidden fruit, been vouchsafed? Disgust and edacity ; laziness that cannot rest ; futile ambition, revenge, non-admiralship : — O, within that carbuncled skin what a con- 7 fusion of confusions sits bottled ! -^ " Eight Couriers," in the course of the day, gallop from Ver- sailles, where Lomenie waits palpitating; and gallop back again, not with the best news. In the outer Courts of the Palais, huge buzz of expectation reigns ; it is whispered the Chief Minister has lost six votes overnight. And from within, resounds nothing but forensic eloquence, pathetic and even indignant ; heartrending appeals to the royal clemency, that his Majesty would please to summon States-General forthwith, and be the Savior of France: — wherein dusky-glowing D'Es- premenil, but still more Sabatier de Cabre, and Freteau, since named Cornmerc Freteau (Goody Freteau), are among the loud- est. For six mortal hours it lasts, in this manner ; the infinite ■-, hubbub unslackened. And so now, when brown dusk is falling through the win- dows, and no end visible, his Majesty, on hint of Garde-des- Sceaux Lamoignon, opens his royal lips once more to say, in brief. That he must have his Loan-Edict registered. — Momen- tary deep pause ! — See ! Monseigneur d'Orleans rises ; with moon-visage turned towards the royal platform, he asks, with a delicate graciosity of manner covering unutterable things : . " Whether it is a Bed of Justice, then, or a Royal Session ? " Fire flashes on him from the throne and neighborhood : surly f answer that " it is a Session." In that case, Monseigneur will crave leave to remark that Edicts cannot be registered by order in a Session ; and indeed to enter, against such registry, his individual humble Protest. " Vous ctcs bicn Ic nialfrc (You will do your pleasure)," answers the King; and thereupon, in high state, marches out, escorted by his Court-retinue ; D'Orleans himself, as in duty bound, escorting him, but only to the gate. Which duty done, D'Orleans returns in from the gate ; redacts November] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 8i his Protest, in the face of an applauding Parlement, an ap- plauding France ; and so — has cut his Court-moorings, shall we say? And will now sail and drift, fast enough, toward Chaos? Thou foolish D'Orleans ; Equality that art to be ! Is Roy- alty grown a mere wooden Scarecrow ; whereon thou, pert scaldhcaded crow, mayest alight at pleasure, and peck? Not yet wholly. Next day, a Lettre-de-Cachet sends D'Orleans to bethink himself in his Chateau of Villers-Cotterets, where, alas, is no Paris with its joyous necessaries of life ; no fascinating indis- pensable Madame de Buffon — light wife of a great Naturalist much too old for her. Monseigneur, it is said, does nothing but walk distractedly, at Villers-Cotterets ; cursing his stars. Versailles itself shall hear penitent wail from him, so hard is his doom. By a second, simultaneous Lettre-de-Cachet, Goody Freteau is hurled into the Stronghold of Ham, amid the Norman marshes ; by a third, Sabatier de Cabre into Mont St. Michel, amid the Norman quicksands. As for the Parle- ment, it must, on summons, travel out to Versailles, with its Register-Book under its arm, to have the Protest biffe (ex- punged) ; not without admonition, and even rebuke. A stroke-^ of authority, which, one might have hoped, would quiet mat^- ters. Unhappily, no : it is a mere taste of the whip to rearing coursers, which makes them rear worse ! When a team of Twenty-five Millions begins rearing, what is Lomenie's whip ? The Parlement will nowise acquiesce meekly ; and set to register the Protestant Edict, and do its other work, in salu- tary fear of these three Lettres-de-Cachet. Far from that, it begins questioning Lettres-de-Cachet generally, their legality, endurability ; emits dolorous objurgation, petition on petition to have its three Martyrs delivered ; cannot, till that be com- plied with, so much as think of examining the Protestant Edict, but puts it off always " till this day week." i In which objurgatory strain Paris and France joins it, or rather has preceded it ; making fearful chorus. And now also the other Parlements, at length opening their mouths, begin to join ; some of them, as at Grenoble and at Rennes, with portentous emphasis — threatening, by way of reprisal, to inter- i Besenval, iii. 309. Vol. I.— 6 82 CARLYLE [1787 diet the very Tax-gatherer.; " In all former contests," as Malesherbes remarks, " it was the Parlement that excited the Public ; but here it is the Public that excites the Parlement." • Chapter VII. — Internecine. What a France, through these winter months of the year 1787! The very CEil-de-Boeuf is doleful, uncertain; with a general feeling among the Suppressed, that it were better to be in Turkey. The Wolf-hounds are suppressed, the Bear- hounds, Duke de Coigny, Duke de Polignac : in the Trianon little-heav*en, her Majesty, one evening, takes Besenval's arm ; asks his candid opinion. The intrepid Besenval — having, as he hopes, nothing of the sycophant in him — plainly signifies that, with a Parlement in rebellion, and an CEil-de-Boeuf in suppres- sion, the King's Crown is in danger ; — whereupon, singular to say, her Majesty, as if hurt, changed the subject, et ne me parla plus dc ricn ! k To whom, indeed, can this poor Queen speak? In need of wise counsel, if ever mortal was ; yet beset here only by the hubbub of chaos ! Her dwelling-place is so bright to the eye, and confusion and black care darkens it all. Sorrows of the Sovereign, sorrows of the woman, thick-coming sorrows en- viron her more and more. Lamotte, the Necklace-Countess, has in these late months escaped, perhaps been suffered to es- cape, from the Salpetriere. Vain was the hope that Paris might thereby forget her ; and this ever-widening-lie, and heap of lies, subside. The Lamotte, with a V (for Voleuse, Thief) branded on both shoulders, has got to England ; and will there- from emit lie on lie ; defiling the highest queenly name : mere distracted lies ;^ which, in its present humor, France will greedily believe. For the rest, it is too clear our Successive Loan is not fill- ing. As indeed, in such circumstances, a Loan registered by expunging of Protests was not the likeliest to fill. Denuncia- tion of Lcttrcs-de-CacJiet, of Despotism generally, abates not : the Twelve Parlements are busy ; the Twelve hundred Plac- y Weber, i. 266. k Besenval, iii. 264. IMemoircs jiistificatifs de la Comtesse dc Lamotte (London. 1788). Vie de Jeanne dc St. Rcmi, Comtesse de Lamotte, &c. &c. See Diamond Necklace (ut supra). 1787I THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 83 ardcrs, Balladsingers, Pamphleteers. Paris is what, in figura- tive speech, they call " flooded with pamphlets (regorge de Brochures) ; " flooded and eddying again. Hot deluge, — from so many Patriot ready-writers, all at the fervid or boiling point ; each ready-writer, now in the hour of eruption, going like an Iceland Geyser! Against which what can a judicious Friend Morellet do ; a Rivarol, an unruly Linguet (well paid for it, — spouting cold! Now also, at length, does come discussion of the Protestant Edict ; but only for new embroilment ; in pamphlet and counter- pamphlet, increasing the madness of men. Not even Ortho- doxy, bedrid as she seemed, but will have a hand in this con- fusion. She once again in the shape of Abbe Lenfant, " whom Prelates drive to visit and congratulate," — raises audible sound from her pulpit-drum.»» Or mark how D'Espremenil, who has his own confused way in all things, produces at the right moment in Parlementary harangue, a pocket Crucifix, with the apostrophe : " Will ye crucify him afresh ? " Him, O D'Espre- menil, without scruple ; — considering what poor stuff, of ivory and filigree, he is made of! To all which add only, that poor Brienne has fallen sick ; so hard was the tear and wear of his sinful youth, so violent, incessant is this agitation of his foolish old age. Baited, bayed at through so many throats, his Grace, growing consumptive, inflammatory (with hnmciir de dartre), lies reduced to milk diet ; in exasperation, almost in desperation ; with " repose," pre- cisely the impossible recipe, prescribed as the indispensable." On the whole, what can a poor Government do, but once more recoil ineffectual? The King's Treasury is running towards the lees ; and Paris " eddies with a flood of pamphlets." At all rates, let the latter subside a little ! D'Orleans gets back to Raincy, which is nearer Paris and the fair frail Buffon ; finally to Paris itself: neither are Freteau and Sabatier ban- ished forever. The Protestant Edict is registered ; to the joy of Boissy d'Anglas and good Malesherbes : Successive Loan, all protests expunged or else withdrawn, remains open, — the rather as few or none come to fill it. States-General, for which the Parlement has clamored, and now the whole Nation clam- ors, will follow " in five years," — if indeed not sooner. O Parlement of Paris, what a clamor was that ! " Messieurs," m Lacretelle, iii. 343. Montgaillard, &c. u Besenval, iii. 317. 84 CARLYLE [1787—88 said old D'Ormesson, " you will get States-General, and you will repent it." Like the Horse in the Fable, who, to be avenged of his enemy, applied to the Man. The Man mounted ; did swift execution on the enemy ; but, unhappily, would not dismount ! Instead of five years, let three years pass, and this clamorous Parlement shall have both seen its enemy hurled prostrate, and been itself ridden to foundering (say rather, jugulated for hide and shoes), and lie dead in the ditch. Under such omens, however, we have reached the spring of 1788. By no path can the King's Government find passage for itself, but is everywhere shamefully flung back. Beleaguered by Twelve rebellious Parlements, which are grown to be the organs of an angry Nation, it can advance nowhither ; can accomplish nothing, obtain nothing, not so much as money to subsist on; but must sit there, seemingly, to be eaten up: of Deficit. The measure of the iniquity, then, of the Falsehood which has been gathering through long centuries, is nearly full ? At least, that of the Misery is ! From the hovels of the Twenty- five Millions, the misery, permeating upwards and forwards, as its law is, has got so far, — to the very Qi^il-de-Boeuf of Ver- sailles. Man's hand, in this blind pain, is set against man : not only the low against the higher, but the higher against each other ; Provincial Noblesse is bitter against Court Noblesse ; Robe against Sword ; Rochet against Pen. But against the King's Government who is not bitter? Not even Besenval, in these days. To it all men and bodies of men are become as enemies ; it is the centre whereon infinite contentions unite and clash. What new universal vertiginous movement is this ; of Institutions, social Arrangements, individual Minds, which once worked co-operative ; now rolling and grinding in dis- tracted collision? Inevitable: it is the breaking-up of a World-Solecism, worn out at last, down even to bankruptcy of money ! And so this poor Versailles Court, as the chief or central Solecism, finds all the other Solecisms arrayed against it. Most natural ! For your human Solecism, be it Person or Combination of Persons, is ever, by law of Nature, uneasy ; if verging towards bankruptcy, it is even miserable: — and when would the meanest Solecism consent to blame or amend itself, while there remained another to amend? These threatening signs do not terrify Lomenie, much less April] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 85 teach him. Lomenie, though of hght nature, is not without courage of a sort. Nay, have we not read of Hghtest creatures, trained Canary-birds, that could fiy cheerfully with lighted matches, and fire cannon ; fire whole powder-magazines ? To sit and die of Deficit is no part of Lomenie's plan. The evil is considerable; but can he not remove it, can he not attack it? At lowest, he can attack the symptom of it: these rebellious Parlements he can attack, and perhaps remove. Much is dim to Lomenie, but two things are clear : that such Parlementary duel with Royalty is growing perilous, nay internecine ; above all, that money must be had. Take thought, brave Lomenie ; thou Garde-des-Sceaux Lamoignon, who hast ideas ! So often defeated, balked cruelly when the golden fruit seemed within clutch, rally for one other struggle. To tame the Parlement, to fill the King's coffers : these are now life-and-death ques- tions. Parlements have been tamed, more than once. Set to perch " on the peaks of rocks inaccessible except by litters," a Parle- ment grows reasonable. O Maupeou, thou bold bad man, had we left thy work where it was ! — But apart from exile, or other violent methods, is there not one method, w-hereby all things are tamed, even lions ? The method of hunger ! What if the Parlement's supplies were cut ofif ; namely its Lawsuits ! Minor Courts, for the trying of innumerable minor causes, miglit be instituted : these we could call Grand Bailliagcs. Whereon the Parlement, shortened of its prey, would look with yellow despair ; but the Public, fond of cheap justice, with fa- vor and hope. Then for Finance, for registering of Edicts, why not, from our own Qiil-de-Boeuf Dignitaries, our Princes, Dukes, Marshals, make a thing we could call Plenary Court; and there, so to speak, do our registering ourselves? Saint Louis had his Plenary Court, of Great Barons ; a most useful to him : our Great Barons are still here (at least the Name of them is still here) ; our necessity is greater than his. Such is the Lomenie-Lamoignon device ; welcome to the King's Council, as a light-beam in great darkness. The device seems feasible, it is eminently needful : be it once well exe- cuted, great deliverance is wrought. Silent, then, and steady; now or never! — the World shall see one other Historical Scene ; and so singular a man as Lomenie dc Briennc still the Stage-manager there. a Montgaillard, i. 405. 86 CARLYLE [1788 Behold, accordingly, a Home-Secretary Breteuil " beautify- ing Paris," in the peaceablest manner, in this hopeful spring weather of 1788; the old hovels and hutches disappearing from our Bridges : as if for the State too there were halcyon weather, and nothing to do but beautify. Parlement seems to sit acknowledged victor. Brienne says nothing of Finance ; or even says, and prints, that it is all well. How is this ; such halcyon quiet; though the Successive Loan did not fill? In a victorious Parlement, Counsellor Goeslard de Monsabert even denounces that " levying of the Second Twentieth on strict valuation ; " and gets decree that the valuation shall not be strict, — not on the Privileged classes. Nevertheless Brienne endures it, launches no Lettre-de-Cachet against it. How is this ? Smiling is such vernal weather ; but treacherous, sudden ! For one thing, we hear it whispered, " the Intendants of Prov- ' inces have all got order to be at their posts on a certain day.".; Still more singular, what incessant Printing is this that goes on at the King's Chateau, under lock and key? Sentries oc- cupy all gates and windows ; the Printers come not out ; they sleep in their workrooms ; their very food is handed in to them ! b A victorious Parlement smells new danger. D'Espre- menil has ordered horses to Versailles ; prowls round that guarded Printing-Ofifice ; prying, snuffing, if so be the sagac- ity and ingenuity of man may penetrate it. To a shower of gold most things are penetrable. D'Espre- menil descends on the lap of a Printer's Danae, in the shape of " five hundred louis d'or : " the Danae's Husband smuggles a ball of clay to her ; which she delivers to the golden Counsel- lor of Parlement. Kneaded within it, there stick printed proof- sheets : — by Heaven ! the royal Edict of that same self-register- ing Plenary Court; of those Grand Bailliagcs that shall cut short our Lawsuits ! It is to be promulgated over all France on one and the same day. This, then, is what the Intendants were bid wait for at their posts : this is what the Court sat hatching, as its accursed cockatrice-egg; and would not stir, though provoked, till the brood were out! Hie with it, D'Espremenil, home to \ Paris ; convoke instantaneous Sessions ; let the Parlement, and the Earth, and the Heavens know it. ~-^ b Weber, i. 276. 1788] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 87 Chapter VIII. — Lomenie's Death-Throes. On the morrow, which is the 3d of May 1788, an astonished Parlement sits convoked ; hstens speechless to the speech of D'Espremenil, unfolding the infinite misdeed. Deed of treach- ery ; of unhallowed darkness, such as Despotism loves ! De- nounce it, O Parlement of Paris ; awaken France and the Uni- verse ; roll what thunder-barrels of forensic eloquence thou hast : with thee too it is verily Now or never ! The Parlement is not wanting, at such juncture. In the hour of his extreme jeopardy, the lion first incites himself by roaring, by lashing his sides. So here the Parlement of Paris. On the motion of D'Espremenil, a most patriotic Oath, of the One-and-all sort, is sworn, with united throat ; — an excellent new-idea, which, in these coming years, shall not remain unimi- tated. Next comes indomitable Declaration, almost of the rights of man, at least of the rights of Parlement ; Invocation to the friends of French Freedom, in this and in subsequent time. All which, or the essence of all which, is brought to paper ; in a tone wherein something of plaintiveness blends with, and tempers, heroic valor. And thus, having sounded the storm-bell — which Paris hears, which all France will hear ; and hurled such defiance in the teeth of Lomenie and Despot- ism, the Parlement retires as from a tolerable first day's work. But how Lomenie felt to see his cockatrice-egg (so essential to the salvation of France) broken in this premature manner, let readers fancy! Indignant he clutches at his thunderbolts (de Cachet, of the Seal) ; and launches two of them : a bolt for D'Espremenil ; a bolt for that busy Goeslard, whose service in the Second Twentieth and " strict valuation " is not forgot- ten. Such bolts clutched promptly overnight, and launched with the early new morning, shall strike agitated Paris if not into requiescence, yet into wholesome astonishment. Ministerial thunderbolts may be launched ; but if they do not hitf D'Espremenil and Goeslard, warned, both of them, as is thought, by the singing of some friendly bird, elude the Lomenie Tipstaves ; escape disguised through skywindows, over roofs, to their own Palais dc Justice : the thunderbolts have missed. Paris (for the buzz flies abroad) is struck into astonishment not wholesome. The two Martyrs of Liberty doff 88 CARLYLE [1788 their disguises ; don their long gowns : behold, in the space of an hour, by aid of ushers and swift runners, the Parlement, with its Counsellors, Presidents, even Peers, sits anew as- sembled. The assembled Parlement declares that these its two Martyrs cannot be given up, to any sublunary authority ; more- over that the " session is permanent," admitting of no adjourn- ment, till pursuit of them has been relinquished. ~-j And so, with forensic eloquence, denunciation and protest, with couriers going and returning, the Parlement, in this state of continual explosion that shall cease neither night nor day, waits the issue. Awakened Paris once more inundates those outer courts ; boils, in floods wilder than ever, through all avenues. Dissonant hubbub there is ; jargon as of Babel, in the hour when they were first smitten (as here) with mutual unintelligibility, and the people had not yet dispersed ! Paris City goes through its diurnal epochs, of working and slumbering ; and now, for the second time, most European and African mortals are asleep. But here, in this Whirlpool of Words, sleep falls not ; the Night spreads her coverlid of Dark- ness over it in vain. Within is the sound of mere martyr in- vincibility ; tempered with the due tone of plaintivieness. Without is the infinite expectant hum — growing drowsier a 1 little. So has it lasted for six-and-thirty hours. '^ But hark, through the dead of midnight, what tramp is this? Tramp as of armed men, foot and horse ; Gardes Franqaises, Gardes Suisses : marching hither ; in silent regularity ; in the flare of torchlight ! There are Sappers too, with axes and crow- bars : apparently, if the doors open not, they will be forced ! — It is Captain D'Agoust, missioned from Versailles. D'Agoust, a man of known firmness ; — who once forced Prince Conde himself, by mere incessant looking at him, to give satisfaction and fight : a he now, with axes and torches, is advancing on the very sanctuary of Justice. Sacrilegious ; yet what help ? The man is a soldier ; looks merely at his orders ; impassive, moves forward like an inanimate engine. The doors open on summons, there need no axes ; door after door. And now the innermost door opens ; discloses the long- gowned Senators of France : a hundred and sixty-seven by tale, y^ seventeen of them Peers ; sitting there, majestic, " in perma- /i nent session." Were not the man military, and of cast-iron, a Weber, i. 283. ^ May] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 89 this sight, this silence re-echoing the clank of his own boots, might stagger him ! For the hundred and sixty-seven receive him in perfect silence ; which some liken to that of the Roman Senate overfallen by Brennus ; some to that of a nest of coiners surprised by officers of the Police.^ Messieurs, said D'Agoust, De par le Roi! Express order has charged D'Agoust with the sad duty of arresting two individuals : M. Duval d'Espremenil and M, Goeslard de Monsabert. Which respectable individu- als, as he has not the honor of knowing them, are hereby in- vited, in the King's name, to surrender themselves. — Profound silence ! Buzz, which grows a murmur : " We are all D'Espre- menils ! " ventures a voice ; which other voices repeat. The President inquires, Whether he will employ violence? Cap- tain D'Agoust, honored with his Majesty's commission, has to execute his Majesty's order; would so gladly do it without violence, will in any case do it ; grants an august Senate space to deliberate which method they prefer. And thereupon D'Agoust, with grave military courtesy, has withdrawn for the moment. What boots it, august Senators ? All avenues are closed with fixed bayonets. Your Courier gallops to Versailles, through the dewy Night ; but also gallops back again, with tidings that the order is authentic, that it is irrevocable. The outer courts simmer with idle population ; but D'Agoust's grenadier-ranks stand there as immovable floodgates : there will be no revolt- ing to deliver you. " Messieurs ! " thus spoke D'Espremenil, " when the victorious Gauls entered Rome, which they had carried by assault, the Roman Senators, clothed in their pur- ple, sat there, in their curule chairs, with a proud and tranquil countenance, awaiting slavery or death. Such too is the lofty spectacle, which you, in this hour, offer to the universe (d runivers), after having generously " — with much more of the like, as can still be read.f In vain, O D'Espremenil! Here is this cast-iron Captain D'Agoust, with his cast-iron military air, come back. Despot- ism, constraint, destruction sit waving in his plumes. D'Espre- menil must fall silent ; heroically give himself up, lest worst befall. Him Goeslard heroically imitates. With spoken and speechless emotion, they fling themselves into the arms of their Parlementary brethren, for a last embrace : and so amid plau- b Besenval, iii. 355- ^ Toulongeon, i. App. 20. 90 CARLYLE [1788 dits and plaints, from a hundred and sixty-five throats ; amid wavings, sobbings, a whole forest-sigh of Parlementary pathos — they are led through winding passages, to the rear- gate ; where, in the gray of the morning, two Coaches with Exempts stand waiting. There must the victims mount ; bayo- nets menacing behind. D'Espremenil's stern question to the populace, " Whether they have courage ? " is answered by si- lence. They mount, and roll ; and neither the rising of the May sun (it is the 6th morning), nor its setting shall lighten their heart: but they fare forward continually; D'Espemenil towards the utmost Isles of Saint Marguerite, or Hieres (sup- posed by some, if that is any comfort, to be Calypso's Island) ; Goeslard toward the land-fortress of Pierre-en-Cize, extant then, near the City of Lyons. Captain D'Agoust may now therefore look forward to Majorship, to Commandantship of the Tuileries ; d — and withal vanish from History ; where nevertheless he has been fated to do a notable thing. For not only are D'Espremenil and Goes- lard safe whirling southward, but the Parlement itself has straightwav to march out : to that also his inexorable order reaches. Gathering up their long skirts, they file out, the whole Plundred and Sixty-five of them, through two rows of unsym- pathetic grenadiers : a spectacle to gods and men. The peo- ple revolt not ; they only wonder and grumble : also, we re- mark, these unsympathetic grenadiers are Gardes Frangaises — who, one day, will sympathize ! In a word, the Palais de Jus- tice is swept clear, the doors of it are locked ; and D'Agoust returns to Versailles with the key in his pocket — having, as was said, merited preferment. As for this Parlement of Paris, now turned out to the street, we will without reluctance leave it there. The Beds of Justice it had to undergo, in the coming fortnight, at Versailles, in registering, or rather refusing to register, those new-hatched Edicts ; and how it assembled in taverns and tap-rooms there, for the purpose of Protesting ; e or hovered disconsolate, with outspread skirts, not knowing where to assemble ; and was reduced to lodge Protest " with a Notary ; " and in the end, to sit still (in a state of forced " vacation "), and do nothing : all this, natural now, as the burying of the dead after battle, shall not concern us. The Parlement of Paris has as good as per- d Montgaillard, i. 404. e Weber, i. 299-303. May-July] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 91 formed its part ; doing and misdoing, so far, but hardly further, could it stir the world. Lomenie has removed the evil, then? Not at all: not so much as the symptom of the evil ; scarcely the tivclfth part of the symptom, and exasperated the other eleven ! The Intend- ants of Provinces, the Military Commandants are at their posts, on the appointed 8th of May : but in no Parlement, if not in the single one of Douai, can these new Edicts get registered. J Not peaceable signing with ink ; but browbeating, bloodshed- ding, appeal to primary club-law! Against these Bailliages, against this Plenary Court, exasperated Themis everywhere shows face of battle ; the Provincial Noblesse are of her party, and whoever hates Lomenie and the evil time ; with her Attor- neys and Tipstaves, she enlists and operates down even to the populace. At Rennes in Brittany, where the historical Ber- trand de Moleville is Intendant, it has passed from fatal con- tinual duelling, between the military and gentry, to street- 1 fighting; to stone-volleys and musket-shot: and still the ■ Edicts remain unregistered. The afflicted Bretons send re- monstrance to Lomenie, by a Deputation of Twelve ; whom, however, Lomenie, having heard them, shuts up in the Bas- tille. A second larger Deputation he meets, by his scouts, on the road, and persuades or frightens back. But now a third largest Deputation is indignantly sent by many roads : refused audience on arriving, it meets to take counsel ; invites Lafa- yette and all Patriot Bretons in Paris to assist ; agitates itself ; becomes the Breton Club, first germ of — the Jacobins' Socicty.f So many as eight Parlements get exiled : g others might need that remedy, but it is one not always easy of appliance. At Grenoble, for instance, where a Mounier, a Barnave have not been idle, the Parlement had due order (by Lcttrcs-dc-Cachct) to depart, and exile itself: but on the morrow, instead of coaches getting yoked, the alarm-bell bursts forth, ominous ; and peals and booms all day: crowds of mountaineers rush down, with axes, even with firelocks — whom (most ominous of all!) the soldiery shows no eagerness to deal with. " Axe over head," the poor General has to sign capitulation ; to en- gage that the Lcftres-dc-Cachct shall remain unexecuted, and a ^ A. F. de Bertrand-Moleville, Memoires Particulicrs (Paris, 1816), i. ch. i. Marmontel, Memoires, iv. 27. g Montgaillard, i. 308. 92 CARLYLE [1788 beloved Parlement stay where it is. Besangon, Dijon, Rouen, Bourdeaux, are not what they should be ! At Pau in Beam, where the old Commandant had failed, the new one (a Gram- mont, native to them) is met by a Procession of townsmen with the Cradle of Henri Ouatre, the Palladium of their Town ; is conjured as he venerates this old Tortoise-shell, in which the great Henri was rocked, not to trample on Bearnese liberty ; is informed, withal, that his Majesty's cannon are all safe — in the keeping of his Majesty's faithful Burghers of Pau, and do now lie pointed on the walls there ; ready for action ! h At this rate, your Grand Bailliages are like to have a stormy infancy. As for the Plenary Court, it has literally expired in the birth. The very Courtiers looked shy at it ; old Marshal Broglie declined the honor of sitting therein. Assaulted by a universal storm of mingled ridicule and execration,* this poor Plenary Court met once, and never any second time. Dis- tracted country ! Contention hisses up, with forked hydra- tongues, wheresoever poor Lomenie sets his foot. " Let a Commandant, a Commissioner of the King," says Weber, " enter one of these Parlements to have an Edict registered, the whole Tribunal will disappear, and leave the Commandant alone with the Clerk and First President. The Edict registered and the Commandant gone, the whole Tribunal hastens back, to declare such registration null. The highways are covered with Grand Dcpiitalions of Parlements, proceeding to Versailles, to have their registers expunged by the King's hand ; or re- turning home, to cover a new page with a new resolution still more audacious." ; Such is the France of this year 1788. Not now a Golden or Paper Age of Hope ; with its horse-racings, balloon-flyings, and finer sensibilities of the heart : ah, gone is that ; its golden efifulgence paled, bedarkened in this singular manner — brewing toward preternatural weather ! For, as in that wreck-storm of Paul ct Virginic and Saint-Pierre — " One huge motionless h Besenval, iii. 348. i La Cotir Plcnicre, hcro'i-tragi-comedie en trois actes et en prose ; jouee le 14 Juillct 1788, par une societe d'amateurs dans tin Chateau aux environs de Versailles; par M. I'Abbe de Vermond, Lccteur de la Reine : A Baville (Laiiioigiion's Coutitry-housc) , et se trouve a Paris, chez la Veuve Liberie, a I'enseignc de la Revolution, 1788. — La Passion, la Mart et la Resurrection du Pcuple: Imprime ^ Jerusalem, &c. &c. — See Montgaillard, i. 407. May.July] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 93 cloud " (say, of Sorrow and Indignation) " girdles our whole horizon ; streams up, hairy, copper-edged, over a sky of the color of lead." Motionless itself; but " small clouds " (as ex- iled Parlements and suchlike), " parting from it, fly over the zenith, with the velocity of birds : " — till at last, with one loud howl, the whole Four Winds be dashed together, and all the world exclaim. There is the tornado! Tout le monde s'ccria, Voila I'ouragan! For the rest, in such circumstances, the Successive Loan, very naturally, remains unfilled ; neither, indeed, can that im- post of the Second Twentieth, at least not on " strict valuation," be levied to good purpose : " Lenders," says Weber, in his hys- terical vehement manner, " are afraid of ruin ; tax-gatherers of hanging." The very Clergy turn away their face : convoked in Extraordinary Assembly, they afford no gratuitous gift {don gratnit) — if it be not that of advice; here too instead of cash is clamor for States-General./^' O Lomenie-Brienne, with thy poor flimsy mind all bewil- dered, and now " three actual cauteries " on thy worn-out body ; who art like to die of inflammation, provocation, milk- diet, dartres vivcs and maladic — (best untranslated) ; I and pre- sidest over a France with innumerable actual cauteries, which also is dying of inflammation and the rest ! Was it wise to quit the bosky verdures of Brienne, and they new ashlar Chateau there, and what it held, for this? Soft were those shades and lawns ; sweet the hymns of Poetasters, the blandishments of high-rouged Graces :"' and always this and the other Philo- sophe Morellet (nothing deeming himself or thee a questionable Sham-Priest) could be so happy in making happy: — and also (hadst thou known it), in the Military School hard by, there sat, studying mathematics, a dusky-complexioned taciturn Boy, under the name of: Napoleon Bonaparte ! — With fifty years of effort, and one final dead-lift struggle, thou hast made an exchange ! Thou hast got thy robe of office — as Hercules had his Nessus'-shirt. -^ On the 13th of July of this 1788, there fell, on the very edge of harvest, the most frightful hailstorm ; scattering into wild waste the Fruits of the Year ; which had otherwise suffered k Lamcth, Asscmb. Const. (Introd.) p. 87. / Montgaillard, i. 424. m See Memoires de Morellet. 94 CARLYLE [1788 grievously by droug-ht. For sixty leagues round Paris espe- cially, the ruin was almost total." To so many other evils, then, there is to be added, that of dearth, perhaps of famine. Some days before this hailstorm, on the 5th of July ; and still more decisively some days after it, on the 8th of August — Lomenie announces that the States-General are actually to meet in the following month of May. Till after which period, this of the Plenary Court, and the rest, shall remain postponed. Further, as in Lomenie there is no plan of forming or holding these most desirable States-General, " thinkers are invited " to furnish him with one — through the medium of discussion by the public press ! What could a poor Minister do? There are still ten months of respite reserved : a sinking pilot will fling out all things, his very biscuit-bags, lead, log, compass and quadrant, before flinging out himself. It is on this principle, of sinking, and the incipient delirium of despair, that we explain likewise the al- most miraculous " invitation to thinkers." Invitation to Chaos to be so kind as build, out of its tumultuous drift-wood, an Ark of Escape for him ! In these cases, not invitation but command has usually proved serviceable. — The Queen stood, that evening, pensive, in a window, with her face turned towards the Garden. The Chef de Gobclct had followed her with an ob- sequious cup of coffee ; and then retired till it were sipped. Her Majesty beckoned Dame Campan to approach : " Grand Dieu! " murmured she, with a cup in her hand, " what a piece of news will be made public to-day ! The King grants States- General." Then raising her eyes to Heaven (if Campan were not mistaken), she added : " 'Tis a first beat of the drum, of ill- omen for France. This Noblesse will ruin us." During all that hatching of the Plenary Court, while La- moignon looked so mysterious, Besenval had kept asking him one question : Whether they had cash ? To which as Lamoig- non always answered (on the faith of Lomenie) that the cash was safe, judicious Besenval rejoined that then all was safe. Nevertheless, the melancholy fact is, that the royal coffers are almost getting literally void of coin. Indeed, apart from all other things, this " invitation to thinkers," and the great change now at hand are enough to " arrest the circulation of capital," and forward only that of pamphlets. A few thousand gold n Marmontel, iv. 30. Campan, iii. 104, in. August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 95 louis are now all of money or money's worth that remains in the King's Treasury. With another movement as of despera- tion, Lomenie invites Necker to come and be Controller of Fi- nances ! Necker has other work in view than controlling Fi- nances for Lomenie : with a dry refusal he stands taciturn ; awaiting his time. What shall a desperate Prime Minister do? He has grasped at the strongbox of the King's Theatre : some Lottery had been set on foot for those sufferers by the hailstorm ; in his ex- treme necessity, Lomenie lays hands even on this./* To make provision for the passing day, on any terms, will soon be im- possible. — On the i6th of August, poor Weber heard, at Paris and Versailles, hawkers, " with a hoarse stifled tone of voice (voix etouffee, sourde)," drawling and snuffling, through the streets, an Edict concerning Payments (such was the soft title Rivarol had contrived for it) : all Payments at the Royal Treas- ury shall be made henceforth, three-fifths in Cash, and the re- maining two-fifths — in Paper bearing interest! Poor Weber almost swooned at the sound of these cracked voices, with their bodeful raven-note ; and will never forget the effect it had on him.g But the effect on Paris, on the World generally? From the dens of Stock-brokerage, from the heights of Political Econ- omy, of Neckerism and Philosophism ; from all articulate and inarticulate throats, rise hootings and bowlings, such as ear had not yet heard. Sedition itself may be imminent ! Mon- seigneur d'Artois, moved by Duchess Polignac, feels called to wait upon her Majesty ; and explain frankly what crisis matters stand in. " The Queen wept ; " Brienne himself wept ; — for it is now visible and palpable that he must go. Remains only that the Court, to whom his manners and garrulities were always agreeable, shall make his fall soft. The grasping old man has already got his Archbishopship of Tou- louse exchanged for the richer one of Sens : and now, in this hour of pity, he shall have the Coadjutorship for his nephew (hardly yet of due age) ; a Dameship of the Palace for his niece ; a Regiment for her husband ; for himself a red Car- dinal's-hat, a Coupe de Bois (cutting from the royal forests), and on the whole " from five to six hundred thousand livres of rev- enue : 'V finally, his Brother, the Comte de Brienne, shall still /) Besenval, iii. 360. y Weber, i. 339. r Ibid. i. 341. 96 CARLYLE [1788 continue War Minister. Biickled-roiind with such bolsters and huge featherbeds of Promotion, let him now fall as soft as he can ! And so Lomenie departs : rich if Court-titles and Money- bonds can enrich him ; but if these cannot, perhaps the poorest of all extant men. " Hissed at by the people of Versailles," he drives forth to Jardi ; southward to Brienne, — for recovery of health. Then to Nice, to Italy ; but shall return ; shall glide to and fro, tremulous, faint-twinkling, fallen on awful times : till the Guillotine — snuff out his weak existence? Alas, worse: for it is blozvn out, or choked out, foully, pitiably, on the way to the Guillotine ! In his Palace of Sens, rude Jacobin Bailiffs made him drink with them from his own wine-cellars, feast with them from his own larder; and on the morrow morning, the miserable old man lies dead. This is the end of Prime Minis- ter, Cardinal Archbishop Lomenie de Brienne. Flimsier mortal was seldom fated to do as weighty a mischief ; to have a life as despicable-envied, an exit as frightful. Fired, as the phrase is, with ambition ; blown, like a kindled rag, the sport of winds, not this way, not that way, but of all ways, straight towards such a powder-mine, — which he kindled ! Let us pity the hapless Lomenie ; and forgive him ; and, as soon as possible, forget him. Chapter IX. — Burial with Bonfire. Besenval, during these extraordinary operations, of Pay- ment two-fifths in Paper, and change of Prime Minister, had been out on a tour through his District of Command ; and, in- deed, for the last months, peacefully drinking the waters of Contrexeville. Returning now, in the end of August, towards Moulins, and " knowing nothing," he arrives one evening at Langres ; finds the whole Town in a state of uproar (grande riimcur). Doubtless some sedition; a thing too common in these days ! He alights nevertheless ; inquires of a "man toler- ably dressed," what the matter is? — " How?" answers the man, "you have not heard the news? The Archbishop is thrown out, and M. Necker is recalled ; and all is going to go well !"^ Such rumcur and vociferous acclaim has risen round M. Necker, ever from " that day when he issued from the Queen's s Besenval, iii. 366. August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 97 Apartments," a nominated Minister. It was on the 24th of August : " the galleries of the Chateau, the courts, the streets of Versailles ; in few hours, the Capital ; and, as the news flew, all France, resounded with the cry of Vive Ic Roi! Vive M. Necker! "t In Paris, indeed, it unfortunately got the length of " turbulence." Petards, rockets go off, in the Place Dauphine, more than enough. A " wicker Figure (Mannequin d' osier) " in Archbishop's stole, made emblematically, three-fifths of it satin, two-fifths of it paper, is promenaded, not in silence, to the popular judgment-bar; is doomed; shriven by a mock Abbe de Vermond ; then solemnly consumed by fire, at the foot of Henri's Statue on the Pont Neuf; — with such petarding and huzzaing that Chevalier Dubois and his City-watch see good finally to make a charge (more or less ineffectual) ; and there wanted not burning of sentry-boxes, forcing of guard-houses, and also " dead bodies thrown into the Seine over-night," to avoid new effervescence." Parlements therefore shall return from exile : Plenary Court, Payment two-fifths in Paper have vanished ; gone off in smoke, at the foot of Henri's Statue. States-General (with a Political Millennium) are now certain ; nay, it shall be announced, in our fond haste, for January next : and all, as the Langres man said, is " going to go." To the prophetic glance of Besenval, one other thing is too apparent : that Friend Lamoignon cannot keep his Keepership. Neither he nor War-minister Comte de Brienne ! Already old Foulon, with an eye to be war-minister himself, is making un- derground movements. This is that same Foulon named amc damncc dii Parlcmcnt; a man grown gray in treachery, in grip- ing, projecting, intriguing and iniquity : who once when it was objected, to some finance-scheme of his, " What will the people do?" — made answer, in the fire of discussion, "The people may eat grass : " hasty words, which fly abroad irrevocable, — and will send back tidings ! Foulon, to the relief of the world, fails on this occasion ; and will always fail. Nevertheless, it steads not M. dc Lamoignon. It steads not the doomed man that he have interviews with the / Weber, i. 342. uHistoire Parlcmciitaire de la RcvoUitinn FraiiQaisc ; ou Jourual dcs Asscmblccs Nationalcs dcpiiis 1789 (Paris. 1833 ct scqq.), i. 253. Lainetli, Assemblee Constituante, i. (Introd.) p. 89. Vol. I.— 7 98 CARLYLE [1788 King: and be "seen to return radieux," emitting rays. La- moignon is the hatred of Parlements : Comte de Brienne is Brother to the Cardinal Archbishop. The 24th of August has been ; and the 14th September is not yet, when they two, as their great Principal had done, descend, — made to fall soft, like him. And now, as if the last burden had been rolled from its heart, and assurance were at length perfect, Paris bursts forth anew into extreme jubilee. The Basoche rejoices aloud, that the foe of Parlements is fallen ; Nobility, Gentry, Commonalty have re- joiced ; and rejoice. Nay, now, with new emphasis. Rascality itself, starting suddenly from its dim depths, will arise and do it, — for down even thither the new Political Evangel, in some rude version or other, has penetrated. It is Monday, the 14th of September, 1788: Rascality assembles anew, in great force, in the Place Dauphine ; lets off petards, fires blunderbusses, to an incredible extent, without interval, for eighteen hours. There is again a wicker Figure, "Mannequin of osier-;" the centre of endless bowlings. Also Necker's Portrait snatched, or purchased, from some Printshop, is borne processionally, aloft on a perch, with huzzas ; — an example to be remembered. But chiefly on the Pont Neuf, where the Great Henri, in bronze, rides sublime ; there do the crowds gather. All pas- sengers must stop, till they have bowed to the People's King, and said audibly : Vk'c Henri Qnatre; an diahle Lamoignon! No carriage but must stop ; not even that of his Highness d'Or- leans. Your coach-doors are opened : Monsieur will please to put forth his head and bow ; or even, if refractory, to alight al- together, and kneel : from Madame a wave of her plumes, a smile of her fair face, there where she sits, shall suffice : — and surely a coin or two (to buy fusees) were not unreasonable, from the Upper Classes, friends of Liberty? In this manner it proceeds for days ; in such rude horse-play, — not without kicks. The City-watch can do nothing ; hardly save its own skin : for the last twelvemonth, as we have sometimes seen, it has been a kind of pastime to hunt the Watch. Besenval, indeed, is at hand with soldiers ; but they have orders to avoid firing, and are not prompt to stir. On Monday morning the explosion of petards began : and now it is near midnight of Wednesday ; and the " wicker Man- nequin " is to be buried, — apparently in the Antique fashion. Sept. i4th-i6th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 99 Long rows of torches, following it, move towards the Hotel La- moignon ; but " a servant of mine " (Besenval's) has run to give warning, and there are soldiers come. Gloomy Lamoignon is not to die by conflagration, or this night ; — not yet for a year, and then by gunshot (suicidal or accidental is unknown).^' Foiled Rascality burns its " Mannikin of osier," under his win- dows ; " tears up the sentry-box," and rolls off : to try Brienne ; to try Dubois Captain of the Watch. Now, however, all is be- stirring itself; Gardes Franqaises, Invalides, Horse-patrol: the Torch Procession is met with sharp shot, with the thrusting of bayonets, the slashing of sabres. Even Dubois makes a charge, with that Cavalry of his, and the crudest charge of all : " there are a great many killed and wounded." Not without clamor, complaint ; subsequent criminal trials, and official persons dy- ing of heartbreak !«; So, however, with steel-besom, Rascality is brushed back into its dim depths, and the streets are swept clear. Not for a century and half had Rascality ventured to step forth in this fashion ; not for so long, showed its huge rude lineaments in the light of day. A Wonder and new Thing : as yet gamboling merely, in awkward Brobdignag sport, not with- out quaintness; hardly in anger: yet in its huge half-vacant laugh lurks a shade of grimness, — which could unfold itself! However, the thinkers invited by Lomenie are now far on with their pamphlets : States-General, on one plan or another, will infallibly meet ; if not in January, as was once hoped, yet at latest in May. Old Duke de Richelieu, moribund in these autumn days, open his eyes once more, murmuring, " What would Louis Fourteenth " (whom he remembers) " have said !" — then closes them again, forever, before the evil time. V Histoirc dc la Revolution, par Deux Amis de la Liberie, i. 50. w Ibid., i. 58. BOOK FOURTH. STATES-GENERAL. Chapter I. — The Notables Again. THE universal prayer, therefore, is to be fulfilled ! Al- ways in days of national perplexity, when wrong abounded and help was not, this remedy of States-Gen- eral was called for ; by a Malesherbes, nay by a Fenelon ;a even Parlements calhng for it were " escorted with blessings." And now behold it is vouchsafed us ; States-General shall verily be ! To say, let States-General be, was easy ; to say in what man- ner they shall be, is not so easy. Since the year 1614, there have no States-General met in France, all trace of them has vanished from the living habits of men. Their structure, powers, methods of procedure, which were never in any measure fixed, have now become wholly a vague possibility. Clay which the potter may shape, this way or that : — say rather, the twenty-five millions of potters ; for so many have now, more or less, a vote in it ! How to shape the States-General ? There is a problem. Each Body-corporate, each privileged, each organized Class has secret hopes of its own in that matter; and also secret mis- givings of its own, — for, behold, this monstrous twenty-million Class, hitherto the dumb sheep which these others had to agree about the manner of shearing, is now also arising with hopes ! It has ceased or is ceasing to be dumb ; it speaks through Pamphlets, or at least brays and growls behind them, in unison, — increasing wonderfully their volume of sound. As for the Parlement of Paris, it has at once declared for the " old form of 1614." Which form had this advantage, that the Tiers Etat, Third Estate, or Commons, figured there as a show mainly: whereby the Noblesse and Clergy had but to avoid quarrel between themselves, and decide unobstructed what they thought best. Such was the clearly declared opinion of the Paris Parlement. But, being met by a storm of mere hooting a Montgaillarcl, i. 461. 100 1788] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION loi and howling from all men, such opinion was blown straight- way to the winds ; and the popularity of the Parlement along with it, — never to return. The Parlement's part, we said above, was as good as played. Concerning which, however, there is this further to be noted : the proximity of dates. It was on the 22d of September that the Parlement returned from " vacation " or " exile in its estates ; " to be reinstalled amid boundless jubilee from all Paris. Precisely next day it was, that this same Parlement came to its " clearly declared opinion : " and then on the morrow after that, you behold it " covered with outrages ; " its outer court, one vast sibilation, and the glory departed from it for evermore.^ A popularity of twenty-four hours was, in those times, no uncommon al- lowance. On the other hand, how superfluous was that invitation of Lomenie's : the invitation to thinkers ! Thinkers and unthink- ers, by the million, are spontaneously at their post, doing what is in them. Clubs labor : Socicte Puhlicole ; Breton Club ; En- raged Club, Club des Enrages. Likewise Dinner-parties in the Palais Royal ; your Mirabeaus, Talleyrands dining there, in company with Chamforts, Morellets, with Duponts and hot Parlementeers, not without object ! For a certain Neckcresin Lion's-provider, whom one could name, assembles them there ;c — or even their own private determination to have dinner does it. And them as to Pamphlets — in figurative language, " it is a sheer snowing of pamphlets ; like to snow-up the Government thoroughfares ! " Now is the time for Friends of Freedom ; sane, and even insane. Count, or self-styled Count, d'Aintrigues, " the young Lan- guedocian gentleman," with perhaps Chamfort the Cynic to help him, rises into furor almost Pythic ; highest, where many are high.^ Foolish young Languedocian gentleman ; who him- self so soon, "emigrating among the foremost," has to fly in- dignant over the marches, with the Confrat Social in his pocket, — toward outer darkness, thankless intriguings, ig>iis-fatitiis hoverings, and death by the stiletto! Abbe Sieyes has left Chartres Cathedral, and canonry and book-shelves there ; has let his tonsure grow, and come to Paris with a secular head, of the most irrefragable sort, to ask three questions, and answer b Weber, i. 347. c Ibid. i. 360. d Memoirc sur Ics Etats-Gcucraux. Sec Montgaillard, i. 457-9. I02 CARLYLE [1788 them: What is the Third Estate f All.— What has it hitherto been in our form of government? Nothing. — What does it want? To become Something. D'Orleans, — for be sure he, on his way to Chaos, is in the thick of this, — promulgates his Deliberations, c fathered by him, written by Laclos of the Liaisons Dangereuses. The resuh of which comes out simply : '* The Third Estate is the Nation." On the other hand, Monseigneur d'Artois, with other Princes of the Blood, publishes in solemn Memorial to the King, that if such things be listened to. Privilege, Nobility, Monarchy, Church, State and Strongbox are in danger./" In danger truly : and yet if you do not listen, are they out of danger? It is the voice of all France, this sound that rises : Immeasurable, manifold; as the sound of outbreaking waters: wise were he who knew \\diat to do in it, — if not to fly to the mountains, and hide himself? How an ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government, sitting there on such principles, in such an environment, would have deter- mined to demean itself at this new juncture, may even yet be a question. Such a Government would have felt too well that its long task was now drawing to a close ; that, under the guise of these States-General, at length inevitable, a new omnipotent Unknown of Democracy was coming into being ; in presence of which no Versailles Government either could or should, except in a provisory character, continue extant. To enact which provisory character, so unspeakably important, might its whole faculties but have sufficed ; and so a peaceable, gradual, well- conducted Abdication and Domine-diinittas have been the issue ! This for our ideal, all-seeing Versailles Government. But for the actual irrational Versailles Government? Alas, that is a Government existing there only for its own behoof : without right, except possession ; and now also without might. It fore- sees nothing, sees nothing ; has not so much as a purpose, but has only purposes, — and the instinct whereby all that exists will struggle to keep existing. Wholly a vortex ; in which vain counsels, hallucinations, falsehoods, intrigues, and imbecilities e Deliberations a prendre pour Ics Assonblccs des Bailliagcs. f Memoirc prcscntc an Roi, par Monseigneur Comtc d'Artois, M. le Prince dc Cnnde, M. le Due (\c Ronrbon, M. le Due d'Enghicn, et M. le Prince dc Conli. (Given in Hist. Pari. i. 256.) Sept. -Oct.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 103 whirl ; like withered rubbish in the meeting of winds ! The CEil-de-Boeuf has its irrational hopes, if also its fears. Since hitherto all States-General have done as good as nothing, why should these do more? The Commons, indeed, look danger- ous ; but on the whole is not revolt, unknown now for five generations, an impossibility? The Three Estates can, by management, be set against each other; the Third will, as here- tofore, join with the King; will, out of mere spite and self-in- terest, be eager to tax and vex the other two. The other two are thus delivered bound into our hands, that we may fleece them likewise. Whereupon, money being got, and the Three Estates all in quarrel, dismiss them, and let the future go as it can ! As good Archbishop Lomenie was wont to say : " There are so many accidents ; and it needs but one to save us." — Yes ; and how many to destroy us ? Poor Necker in the midst of such an anarchy does what is possible for him. He looks into it with obstinately hopeful face ; lauds the known rectitude of the kingly mind ; listens in- dulgent-like to the known perverseness of the queenly and courtly ; — emits if any proclamation or regulation one favoring the Tiers Etat; but settling nothing ; hovering afar off rather, and advising all things to settle themselves. The grand ques- tions, for the present, have got reduced to two : the Double Representation, and the Vote by Head. Shall the Commons have a " double representation," that is to say, have as many members as the Noblesse and Clergy united ? Shall the States- General, when once assembled, vote and deliberate, in one body, or in three separate bodies ; " vote by head, or vote by class," — ordre as they call it ? These are the moot-points now filling all France with jargon, logic and eleutheromania. To terminate which, Necker bethinks him. Might not a second Convocation of the Notables be fittest? Such second Convocation is re- solved on. On the 6th of November of this year, 1788, these Notables accordingly have reassembled ; after an interval of some eigh- teen months. They are Calonne's old Notables, the same Hun- dred and Forty-four, — to show one's impartiality ; likewise to save time. They sit there once again, in their Seven llurcaus, in the hard winter weather: it is the hardest winter seen since 1709; thermometer below zero of Fahrenheit, Seine River frozen over..? Cold, scarcity and clcutheromaniac clamor: a g Marmontcl, Mcmoircs (London, 1805), iv. 2)2)- Hist. Pari. &c. 104 CARLYLE [1788 changed world since these Notables were " organed out," in May gone a year ! They shall see now whether, under their Seven Princes of the Blood, in their Seven Bureaus, they can settle the moot-points. To the surprise of Patriotism, these Notables, once so patri- otic, seem to incline the wrong way ; toward the anti-patriotic side. They stagger at the Double Representation, at the Vote by Head : there is not affirmative decision ; there is mere de- bating, and that not with the best aspects. For, indeed, were not these Notables themselves mostly of the Privileged Classes ? They clamored once ; now they have their misgivings ; make their dolorous representations. Let them vanish, ineffectual ; and return no more ! They vanish, after a month's session, on this I2th of December, year 1788: the last terrestrial Notables; not to reappear any other time, in the History of the World. And so, the clamor still continuing, and the Pamphlets ; and nothing but patriotic Addresses, louder and louder, pouring in on us from all corners of France, — Necker himself some fort- night after, before the year is yet done, has to present his Report h recommending at his own risk that same Double Rep- resentation; nay almost enjoining it, so loud is the jargon and eleutheromania. What dubitating, what circumambulating! These whole six noisy months (for it began with Brienne in July), has not Report followed Report, and one Proclamation flown in the teeth of the other ?i However, that first moot-point, as we see, is now settled. As for the second, that of voting by Head or by Order, it unfortu- nately is still left hanging. It hangs there, we may say, be- tween the Privileged Orders and the Unprivileged ; as a ready- made battle-prize, and necessity of war, from the very first: which battle-prize whosoever seizes it — may thenceforth bear as battle-flag, with the best omens ! But so at least, by Royal Edict of the 24th of January,/ does it finally, to impatient expectant France, become not only indubitable that National Deputies are to meet, but possible (so far and hardly farther has the royal Regulation gone) to begin electing them. h Rapport fait an Roi dans son Conseil, le 27 Deccmhrc 1788. i 5th July ; 8th August ; 23d September, &c. &c. j Reglcmcnt da Roi pour la Convocation dcs Etats-Generaux a Ver- sailles. (Reprinted, wrong dated, in Histoire Parlementairc, i. 262.) November] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 105 Chapter II. — The Election. Up, then, and be doing ! The royal signal-word flies through France, as through vast forests the rushing of a mighty wind. At Parish Churches, in Townhalls, and every House of Con- vocation ; by Bailliages, by Seneschalsies, in whatsoever form men convene; there, with confusion enough, are Primary As- semblies forming. To elect your Electors; such is the form prescribed : then to draw up your " Writ of Plaints and Griev- ances {Cahier de plaint cs ct dolcanccs) ," of which latter there is no lack. With such virtue works this Royal January Edict ; as it rolls rapidly, in its leathern mails, along these frostbound highways, towards all the four winds. Like some Hat, or magic spell- word ; — which such things do resemble ! For always, as it sounds out " at the market-cross," accompanied with trumpet- blast; presided by Bailli, Seneschal, or other minor Function- ary, with beef-eaters ; or, in country churches, is droned forth after sermon, " an prone des messes paroissales ;" and is regis- tered, posted and let fly over all the world, — you behold how this multitudinous French People, so long simmering and buzz- ing in eager expectancy, begins heaping and shaping itself into organic groups. Which organic groups, again, hold smaller organic grouplets: the inarticulate buzzing becomes articulate speaking and acting. By Primary Assembly, and then by Secondary ; by " successive elections," and infinite elaboration and scrutiny, according to prescribed process, — shall the genuine " Plaints and Grievances " be at length got to paper ; shall the fit National Representative be at length laid hold of. How the whole People shakes itself, as if it had one life ; and, in thousand-voiced rumor, announces that it is awake, sudden- ly out of long death-sleep, and will thenceforth sleep no more ! The long looked-for has come at last ; wondrous news, of Vic- tory, Deliverance, Enfranchisement, sounds magical through every heart. To the proud strong man it has come ; whose strong hands shall no more be gyved ; to whom boundless un- conquered continents lie disclosed. The weary day-drudge has heard of it; the beggar with his crust moistened in tears. What! To us also has li()i)c reached; down even to us? Hunger and hardshii) are not to be eternal? The bread we xo6 CARLYLE [1789 extorted from the rugged glebe, and, with the toil of our sinews, reaped and ground, and kneaded into loaves, was not wholly for another, then ; but we also shall eat of it, and be filled ? Glori- ous news (answer the prudent elders), but ail-too unlikely! — Thus, at any rate, may the lower people, who pay no money- taxes and have no right to vote, k assiduously crowd round those that do ; and most Halls of Assembly, within doors and without, seem animated enough. Paris, alone of Towns, is to have Representatives ; the num- ber of them twenty. Paris is divided into Sixty Districts ; each of which (assembled in some church, or the like) is choosing two Electors. Official deputations pass from District to Dis- trict, for all is inexperience as yet, and there is endless consult- ing. The streets swarm strangely with busy crowds, pacific yet restless and loquacious ; at intervals, is seen the gleam of military muskets ; especially about the Palais, where the Parle-; ment, once more on duty, sits querulous, almost tremulous. Busy is the French world ! In those great days, what poorest speculative craftsman but will leave his workshop; if not to vote, yet to assist in voting ? On all highways is a rustling and bustling. Over the wide surface of France, ever and anon, through the spring months, as the Sower casts his corn abroad upon the furrows, sounds of congregating and dispersing ; of crowds in deliberation, acclamation, voting by ballot and by voice, — rise discrepant toward the ear of Heaven. To which political phenomena add this economical one, that Trade is stagnant, and also Bread getting dear ; for before the rigorous winter there was, as we said, a rigorous summer, with drought, and on the 13th of July with destructive hail. What a fearful day ! all cried while that tempest fell. Alas, the next anni- versary of it will be a worse. ^ Under such aspects is France electing National Representatives. The incidents and specialties of these Elections belong not to Universal, but to Local or Parish History: for which reason let not the new troubles of Grenoble or Besangon ; the bloodshed on the streets of Rcnnes, and consequent march thither of the Breton " Young Men " with Manifesto by their " Mothers, Sisters and Sweethearts ;»« nor suchlike, detain us here. It is k Rcglcmcnt du Roi (in Histoire Parlemcntaire, as above, i. 267-307). / Bailly, Mcmoircs, i. ,336. m Protestation ct Arrcie dcs Jcuncs Gens de la Ville de Nantes, du 28 & Jan.-Feb.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 107 the same sad history everywhere ; with superficial variations. A reinstated Parlement (as at Besanqon), which stands aston- ished at this Behemoth of a States-General it had itself evoked, starts forward, with more or less audacity, to fix a thorn in its nose; and, alas, is instantaneously struck down, and hurled quite out, — for the new popular force can use not only argu- ments but brickbats ! Or else, and perhaps combined with this, it is an order of Noblesse (as in Brittany), which will before- hand tic up the Third Estate, that it harm not the old privileges. In which act of tying up, never so skillfully set about, there is likewise no possibility of prospering; but theBehcmoth-Briareus snaps your cords like green rushes. Tie up ? Alas, Messieurs ! And then, as for your chivalry rapiers, valor and wager-of-bat- tle, think one moment, how can that answer? The plebeian heart too has red life in it, which changes not to paleness at glance even of you ; and " the six hundred Breton gentlemen assembled in arms, for seventy-two hours, in the Cordeliers' Cloister, at Rennes," — have come out again, zviser than they entered. For the Nantes Youth, the Angers Youth, all Brit- tany was astir ; " mothers, sisters and sweethearts " shrieking after them, March! The Breton Noblesse must even let the mad world have its way." In other Provinces, the Noblesse, with equal goodwill, finds it better to stick to Protests, to well-redacted " Cahiers of griev- ances," and satirical writings and speeches. Such is partially their course in Provence ; whither indeed Gabriel Honore Riquetti Comte de Mirabeau has rushed down from Paris, to speak a word in season. In Provence, the Privileged, backed by their Aix Parlement, discover that such novelties, enjoined though they be by Royal Edict, tend to National detriment ; and what is still more indisputa1)le, " to impair the dignity of the Noblesse." Whereupon Mirabeau protesting aloud, this same Noblesse, amid huge tumult within doors and without, flatly determines to expel him from their Assembly. No other method, not even that of successive duels, would answer with him, the obstreperous fierce-glaring man. Expelled he accord- incrlv is. 't>'.' Janvier 1789, avant Icur depart four Rennes. Arrctc des Jennes Gens de la Villc d' Angers, du 4 Fcvricr 1789. Arrcte des Meres, Sa-urs. Hpouses et Amantes des Jennes Citoyens d'Angers, du 6 Fcvrier 17S9. (Rc- printod in Histoire Parlemcntaire, i. 290-3.) 71 Hist. Pari. i. 287. I)cnx .huis de la Liberie, i. 105-128. io8 CARLYLE [1789 " In all countries, in all times," exclaims he departing, "the Aristocrats have implacably pursued every friend of the People ; and with tenfold implacability, if such a one were himself born of the Aristocracy. It was thus that the last of the Gracchi perished, by the hands of the Patricians. But he, being struck with the mortal stab, flung dust towards heaven, and called on the Avenging Deities; and from this dust there was born Marius, — Marius not so illustrious for exterminating the Cim- bri, as for overturning in Rome the tyranny of the Nobles. "0 Casting up "which new curious handful of dust (through the Printing-press), to breed what it can and may, Mirabeau stalks forth into the Third Estate. That he now, to ingratiate himself with this Third Estate, " opened a cloth-shop in Marseilles," and for moments became a furnishing tailor, or even the fable that he did so, is to us al- ways among the pleasant memorabilities of this era. Stranger Clothier never wielded the ell-wand, and rent webs for men, or fractional parts of men. The Fils Adoptif is indignant at such disparaging fable,/" — which nevertheless was widely believed in those days.9 But indeed, if Achilles, in the heroic ages, killed mutton, why should not Mirabeau, in the unheroic ones, meas- ure broadcloth? More authentic are his triumph-progresses through that dis- turbed district, with mob jubilee, flaming torches, "windows hired for two louis," and voluntary guard of a hundred men. v He is Deputy Elect, both of Aix and of Marseilles ; but will pre- fer Aix. He has opened his far-sounding voice, the depths of his far-sounding soul; he can quell (such virtue is in a spoken word) the pride-tumults of the rich, the hunger-tumults of the poor ; and wild multitudes move under him, as under the moon do billows of the sea: he has become a world-compellcr, and ruler over men. One other incident and specialty we note ; with how different an interest ! It is of the Parlement of Paris ; which starts for- ward, like the others (only with less audacity, seeing better how it lay), to nose-ring that Behemoth of a States-General. Worthy Doctor Guillotin, respectable practitioner in Paris, has drawn up his little " Plan of a Cahier of dolcances;" — as had o Fils Adoptif, v. 256. p Memoircs dc Mirabeau, v. 307. q Marat, Ami-du-Pcuplc Newspaper (in Histoire Parlcmcntairc, ii. 103), &c. Feb. -Apr.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 109 he not, having the wish and gift, the clearest Hberty to do? He is getting the people to sign it ; whereupon the surly Parlement summons him to give account of himself. He goes ; but with all Paris at his heels; which floods the outer courts, and copi- ously signs the Cahier even there, while the Doctor is giving account of himself within ! The Parlement cannot too soon dismiss Guillotin, with compliments ; to be borne home shoulder-high.^ This respectable Guillotin we hope to behold once more, and perhaps only once ; the Parlement not even once, but let it be engulfed unseen by us. Meanwhile such things, cheering as they are, tend little to cheer the national creditor, or indeed the creditor of any kind. In the midst of universal portentous doubt, what certainty can seem so certain as money in the purse, and the wisdom of keep- ing it there? Trading Speculation, Commerce of all kinds, has as far as possible come to a dead pause ; and the hand of the industrious lies idle in his bosom. Frightful enough, when now the rigor of seasons has also done its part, and to scarcity of work is added scarcity of food! In the opening spring^ there come rumors of forestallment, there come King's Edicts, Petitions of bakers against millers ; and at length, in the month of April, — troops of ragged Lackalls, and fierce cries of starva- tion! These are the thrice-framed Brigands: an actual exist- ing quotity of persons ; who, long reflected and reverberated through so many millions of heads, as in concave multiplying mirrors, become a whole Brigand World; and, like a kind of Supernatural Machinery, wondrously move the Epos of the Revolution. The Brigands are here ; the Brigands are there ; the Brigands are coming ! Not otherwise sounded the clang of Phoebus Apollo's silver bow, scattering pestilence and pale ter- ror : for this clang too was of the imagination ; preternatural ; and it too walked in formless immeasurability, having made itself like to the Night {vvktI €OLKco, long voyaging had got to port, plays over his broad simple face : the innocent King ! He rises and speaks, with sonorous tone, a conceivable speech. With which, still more with the succeed- ing one-hour and two-hours speeches of Garde-des-Sceaux and M. Necker, full of nothing but patriotism, hope, faith, and de- ficiency of the revenue, — no reader of these pages shall be tried. We remark only that, as his Majesty, on finishing the speech, put on his plumed hat, and the Noblesse according to custom imitated him, our Tiers-Etat Deputies did mostly, not without a shade of fierceness, in like manner clap-on,a and even crush -on aHistoire Parlementairc (i. 356). Mercicr, Nouveau Paris, Sic. Vol. I.— 9 130 CARLYLE [1789 their slouched hats ; and stand there awaiting the issue. Thick- buzz among them, between majority and minority of Couvres- voiis, Dccoiivrcz-vous (Hats off, Hats on) ! To which his Ma- jesty puts end, by taking off his own royal hat again. The session terminates without further accident or omen than this; with which, significantly enough, France has opened her States-General. I BOOK FIFTH. THE THIRD ESTATE. Chapter I. — Inertia. THAT exasperated France, in this same National Assem- bly of hers, has got something, nay something great, momentous, indispensable, cannot be doubted ; yet still the question were: Specially zvhatF A question hard to solve, -^ even for calm onlookers at this distance ; wholly insoluble to actors in the middle of it. The States-General, created and conflated by the passionate effort of the whole Nation, is there as a thing high and lifted up. Hope, jubilating, cries aloud that it will prove a miraculous Brazen Serpent in the Wilder- ness ; whereon whosoever looks, with faith and obedience, shall be healed of all woes and serpent-bites. We may answer, it will at least prove a symbolic Banner ; round which the exasperated complaining Twenty-five Mill- ions, otherwise isolated and without power, may rally, and work — what it is in them to work. H battle must be the work, as one cannot help expecting, then shall it be a battle-banner (say, an Italian Gonfalon, in its old Republican Carroccio) ; and shall tower up, car-borne, shining in the wind : and with iron tongue peal forth many a signal. A thing of prime necessity ; which whether in the van or in the centre, whether leading or led and driven, must do the fighting multitude incalculable ser- vices. For a season, while it floats in the very front, nay, as it were, stands solitary there, waiting whether force will gather round it, this same National Carroccio, and the signal-peals it rings, are a main object with us. The omen of the " slouch-hats clapt on " shows the Com- mons Deputies to have made up their minds on one thing: that neither Noblesse nor Clergy shall have precedence of them ; hardly even Majesty itself. To such length has the Contrat Social, and force of public opinion, carried us. For what is Majesty but the Delegate of the Nation ; delegated, and bar- 131 132 CARLYLE [1789 gained with (even rather tightly), — in some very singular pos- ture of affairs, which Jean Jacques has not fixed the date of ? Coming therefore into their Hall, on the morrow, an inor- ganic mass of Six Hundred individuals, these Commons Depu- ties perceive, without terror, that they have it all to themselves. Their Hall is also the Grand or general Hall for all the Three Orders. But the Noblesse and Clergy, it would seem, have retired to their two separate Apartments, or Halls ; and are there " verifying their powers," not in a conjoint but in a sepa- rate capacity. They are to constitute two separate, perhaps separately-voting Orders, then ? It is as if both Noblesse and -1 Clergy had silently taken for granted that they already were ' such ! Two Orders against one ; and so the Third Order to be left in a perpetual minority ? —n' Much may remain unfixed ; but the negative of that is a thing [fixed : in the Slouch-hatted heads, in the French Nation's head. Double representation, and all else hitherto gained, were other- ^ wise futile, null. Doubtless, the " powers must be verified ; " — doubtless, the Commission, the electoral Documents of your Deputy must be inspected by his brother Deputies, and found valid : it is the preliminary of all. Neither is this question, of doing it separately or doing it conjointly, a vital one: but if it lead to such ? It must be resisted ; wise was that maxim, Re- sist the beginnings ! Nay were resistance unadvisable, even dangerous, yet surely pause is very natural : pause, with Twenty-five Millions behind you, may become resistance enough. — The inorganic mass of Commons Deputies will re- strict itself to a " system of inertia," and for the present remain inorganic. Such method, recommendable alike to sagacity an'd to timid- ity, do the Commons Deputies adopt ; and, not without adroit- ness, and with ever more tenacity, they persist in it, day after day, week after week. For six weeks their history is of the kind named barren; which indeed, as Philosophy knows, is often the fruitfulcst of all. These were their still creation- days ; wherein they sat incubating! In fact, what they did was to do nothing, in a judicious manner. Daily the inorganic body reassembles ; regrets that they cannot get organization, " verifi- cation of powers in common," and begin regenerating France. Headlong motions may be made, but let such be repressed; inertia alone is at once unpunishable and unconquerable. May6th-i5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 133 Cunning must be met by cunning; proud pretension by in- ertia, by a low tone of patriotic sorrow ; low, but incurable, un- alterable. Wise as serpents; harmless as doves: what a spec- tacle for France ! Six Hundred inorganic individuals, essential - for its regeneration and salvation, sit there, on their elliptic benches, longing passionately towards life; in painful durance; like souls waiting to be born. Speeches are spoken ; eloquent ; audible within doors and without. Mind agitates itself against mind ; the Nation looks on with ever deeper interest. Thus do the Commons Deputies sit incubating. There are private conclaves, supper-parties, consultations ; Breton Club, Club of Viroflay ; germs of many Clubs. Wholly an element of confused noise, dimness, angry heat ; — wherein, however, the Eros-egg, kept at the fit temperature, may hover safe, unbroken till it be hatched. In your Mouniers, Malouets, Lechapeliers is science sufficient for that ; fervor in your Bar- naves, Rabauts. At times shall come an inspiration from royal Mirabeau: he is nowise yet recognized as royal; nay he was " groaned at," when his name was first mentioned : but he is struggling towards recognition. In the course of the week, the Commons having called their Eldest to the chair, and furnished him with young stronger- lunged assistants, — can speak articulately ; and, in audible lamentable words, declare, as we said, that they are an in- organic body, longing to become organic. Letters arrive ; but an inorganic body cannot open letters ; they lie on the table un- opened. The Eldest may at most procure for himself some kind of List or Muster-roll, to take the votes by ; and wait what will betide. Noblesse and Clergy are all elsewhere : however, an eager public crowds all galleries and vacancies ; which is some comfort. With effort, it is determined, not that a Depu- tation shall be sent, — for how can an inorganic body send depu- tations? — but that certain individual Commons Members shall, in an accidental way, stroll into the Clergy Chamber, and then into the Noblesse one ; and mention there, as a thing they have happened to observe, that the Commons seem to be sitting wait- ing for them, in order to verify their powers. That is the wiser method ! The Clergy, among whom are such a multitude of Undigni- fied, of mere Commons in Curates' frocks, depute instant re- spectful answer that they arc, and will now more than ever be, 134 CARLYLE [1789 in deepest study as to that very matter. Contrariwise the No- blesse, in cavaHer attitude, reply, after four days, that they, for their part, are all verified and constituted ; which, they had trusted, the Commons also were ; such separate verification be- ing clearly the proper constitutional wisdom-of-ancestors method ; — as they the Noblesse will have much pleasure in demonstrating by a Commission of their number, if the Com- mons will meet them. Commission against Commission ! Directly in the rear of which comes a deputation of Clergy, reiterating, in their insidious conciliatory way, the same pro- posal. Here, then, is a complexity : what will wise Commons say to this ? Warily, inertly, the wise Commons, considering that they are, if not a French Third Estate, at least an Aggregate of in- dividuals pretending to some title of that kind, determine, after talking on it five days, to name such a Commission, — though, as it were, with proviso not to be convinced : a sixth day is taken up in naming it ; a seventh and an eighth day in getting the forms of meeting, place, hour and the like, settled : so that it is not till the evening of the 23d of May that Noblesse Commission yU>^ first meets Commons Commission, Clergy acting as Concilia- ; tors; and begins the impossible task of convincing it. One J other meeting, on the 2Sth, will suffice : the Commons are incon- vincible, the Noblesse and Clergy irrefragably convincing ; the Commissions retire ; each Order persisting in its first preten- sions. Thus have three weeks passed. For three weeks, the Third- Estate Carroccio, with far-seen Gonfalon, has stood stockstill, flouting the wind ; waiting what force would gather round it. Fancy can conceive the feeling of the Court ; and how coun- sel met counsel, and loud-sounding inanity whirled in that dis- tracted vortex, where wisdom could not dwell. Your cunningly , devised Taxing-Machine has been got together ; set up with in- | credible labor ; and stands there, its three pieces in contact ; its two fly-wheels of Noblesse and Clergy, its huge working-wheel of Tiers-Etat. The two fly-wheels whirl in the softest manner ; but, prodigious to look upon, the huge working-wheel hangs motionless, refuses to stir ! The cunningest engineers are at a Reported Debates, 6th May to ist June 1789 (in Histoire Parlemcnt- aire, i. 379-422). -^ May6th-i5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 135 fault. IIow zi'ill it work, when it does begin? Fearfully, my Friends ; and to many purposes ; but to gather taxes, or grind court-meal, one may apprehend, never. Could we but have continiied gathering taxes by hand! Messeigneurs d'Artois/^ Conti, Conde (named Court Triumvirate), they of the anti-- democratic Meinoire au Roi, has not their foreboding proved true ? They may wave reproachfully their high heads ; they may beat their poor brains ; but the cunningest engineers can do nothing. Necker himself, were he even listened to, begins to look blue. The only thing one sees advisable is to bring up soldiers. New regiments, two, and a battalion of a third, have already reached Paris ; others shall get in march. Good were it, in all circumstances, to have troops within reach ; good that the command were in sure hands. Let Broglie be appointed; old Marshal Duke de Broglie ; veteran disciplinarian, of a firm drill-sergeant morality, such as may be depended on. For, alas, neither are the Clergy, or the very Noblesse what they should be ; and might be, when so menaced from without : entire, undivided within. The Noblesse, indeed, have their Catiline or Crispin D'Espremenil, dusky-glowing, all in rene- gade heat ; their boisterous Barrel-Mirabeau ; but also they have their Lafayettes, Liancourts, Lameths; above all, their D'Orleans, now cut forever from his Court-moorings, and musing drowsily of high and highest sea-prizes (for is not he too a son of Henri Quatre, and partial potential Heir-Ap- parent?) — on his voyage towards Chaos. From the Clergy again, so numerous are the Cures, actual deserters have run over: two small parties; in the second party Cure Gregoire, Nay there is talk of a whole Hundred and Forty-nine of them about to desert in mass, and only restrained by an Archbishop of Paris. It seems a losing game. But judge if France, if Paris sat idle, all this while! Ad- dresses from far and near flow in : for our Commons have now grown organic enough to open letters. Or indeed to cavil at them ! Thus poor Marquis de Breze, Supreme Usher, Master of Ceremonies, or whatever his title was, writing about this time on some ceremonial matter, sees no harm in winding up with a " Monsieur, yours with sincere attachment." — " To whom docs it address itself, this sincere attachment?" inquires Mira- bcau. " To the Dean of the Tiers-Etat.'— " There is no man in France entitled to write that," rejoins he ; whereat the Gal- 136 CARLYLE [17S9 leries and the World will not be kept from applauding.^ Poor De Breze ! These Commons have a still older grudge at him ; nor has he yet done with them. In another way, Mirabeau has had to protest against the quick suppression of his Newspaper, Journal of the States- General ; — and to continue it under a new name. In which act of valor, the Paris Electors, still busy redacting their Cahicr, could not but support him, by Address to his Majesty: they claim utmost " provisory freedom of the press ;" they have spoken even about demolishing the Bastille, and erecting a Bronze Patriot King on the site ! — These are the rich Burgh- ers : but now consider how it went, for example, with such loose miscellany, now all grown eleutheromaniac, of Loungers, Prowlers, social Nondescripts (and the distilled Rascality of our Planet), as whirls forever in the Palais Royal; — or what low infinite groan, fast changing into a growl, comes from Saint-Antoine, and the Twenty-five Millions in danger of starvation ! There is the indisputablest scarcity of corn ; — be it Aristo- crat-plot, D'Orleans-plot, of this year; or drought and 'hail of last year : in city and province, the poor man looks desolately towards a nameless lot. And this States-General, that could make us an age of gold, is forced to stand motionless ; cannot get its powers verified ! All industry necessarily languishes, if it be not that of making motions. In the Palais Royal there has been erected, apparently by subscription, a kind of Wooden Tent {en planches dc bois) ;c — most convenient; where select Patriotism can now redact reso- lutions, deliver harangues, with comfort, let the weather be as it will. Lively is that Satan-at-Home ! On his table, on his chair, in every cafe, stands a patriotic orator; a crowd round him within ; a crowd listening from without, open-mouthed, through open door and window ; with " thunders of applause for every sentiment of more than common hardiness." In Monsieur Dessein's Pamphlet-shop, close by, you cannot with- out strong elbowing get to the counter: every hour produces its pamphlet, or litter of pamphlets ; " there were thirteen to- day, sixteen yesterday, ninety-two last week."rf Think of b Monitcur (in Histoire Parlcmcntairc, L 405). c TJisfnirc Parlcmcntaire, i. 429. d Arthur Young, Travels, i. 104. May i6th-26th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 137 Tyranny and Scarcity ; Fervid-eloquence, Rumor, Pamphleteer- ing; Socictc Puhlicole, Breton Club, Enraged Club; — and whether every tap-room, coffee-room, social reunion, accidental street-group, over wide France, was not an Enraged Club ! To all which the Commons Deputies can only listen with a sublime inertia of sorrow ; reduced to busy themselves " with their internal police." Surer position no Deputies ever occu- pied ; if they keep it with skill. Let not the temperature rise too high ; break not the Eros-egg till it be hatched, till it break itself ! An eager public crowds all Galleries and vacancies ; " cannot be restrained from applauding." The two Privileged Orders, the Noblesse all verified and constituted, may look on with what face they will ; not without a secret tremor of heart. The Clergy, always acting the part of conciliators, make a clutch at the Galleries, and the popularity there ; and miss it. Deputation of them arrives, with dolorous message about the " dearth of grains," and the necessity there is of casting aside vain formalities, and deliberating on this. An insidious pro- posal ; which, however, the Commons (moved thereto by sea- green Robespierre) dexterously accept as a sort of hint, or even pledge, that the Clergy will forthwith come over to them, constitute the States-General, and so cheapen grains \c Finally- on the 27th day of May, Mirabeau, judging the time now nearly come, proposes that "the inertia cease;" that, leaving the Noblesse to their own stiff ways, the Clergy be summoned, \ " in the name of the God of Peace," to join the Commons, and begin. /^ To which summons if they turn a deaf ear, — we- shall sec ! Are not one Hundred and Forty-nine of them ready to desert? O Triumvirate of Princes, new Garde-des-Sceaux Barentin, thou Home-Secretary Breteuil, Duchess Polignac, and Queen eager to listen, — what is now to be done? This Third Estate will get in motion, with the force of all France in it ; Clergy- machinery with Noblesse-machinery, which were to serve as beautiful counterbalances and drags, will be shamefully dragged after it, — and take fire along with it. What is to be done? The Qiil-de-BcEuf waxes more confused than ever. Whisper and counter-whisper; a very tempest of whispers! Leading men from all the Three Orders are nightly spirited ^ Bailly, Memoircs, i. 114. f Histoirc rarlcmcntairc, i. 413. 138 CARLYLE [1789 thither; conjurors many of them; but can they conjure this? Necker himself were now welcome, could he interfere to pur- pose. Let Necker interfere, then ; and in the King's name ! Hap- pily that incendiary " God-of-Peace " message is not yet anszvercd„ The Three Orders shall again have conferences ; under fliis Patriot Minister of theirs, somewhat may be healed, clouted up, — we meanwhile getting forward Swiss Regi--"! ments and a " hundred pieces of field-artillery." This is what bK the CEil-de-Boeuf, for its part, resolves on. -sj But as for Necker — Alas, poor Necker, thy obstinate Third Estate has one first-last word, verification in common, as the pledge of voting and deliberating in common ! Half-way pro- posals, from such a tried friend, they answer with a stare. The tardy conferences speedily break up: the Third Estate, now ready and resolute, the whole world backing it, returns to its Hall of the Three Orders; and Necker to the CEil-de-Boeuf, with the character of a disconjured conjurer there, — fit only, for dismissal.^ And so the Commons Deputies are at last on their own strength getting under way? Instead of Chairman, or Dean, they have now got a President: Astronomer Bailly. Under way, with a vengeance ! With endless vociferous and tem- perate eloquence, borne on Newspaper wings to all lands, they have now, on this 17th day of June, determined that their name is not Third Estate, but — National Assembly! They, then, are the Nation? Triumvirate of Princes, Queen, refrac- tory Noblesse and Clergy, what, then, are you? A most deep question ; — scarcely answerable in living political dialects. All regardless of which, our new National Assembly pro- ceeds to appoint a " committee of subsistences ;" dear to France, though it can find little or no grain. Next, as if our National Assembly stood quite firm on its legs, — to appoint " four other standing committees ;" then to settle the security of the National Debt; then that of the Annual Taxation: all within eight-and-forty hours. At such rate of velocity it is going: the conjurors of the CEil-de-Bceuf may well ask themselves. Whither? £: Debates, ist to 17th June 1789 (in Histoire Parlcmentaire, i. 422- 478). June 20th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 139 Chapter II. — Mercury de Breze. Now surely were the time for a " god from the machine ;" there is a nodus worthy of one. The only question is, Which god? Shall it be Mars de Broglie, with his hundred pieces of cannon? — Not yet, answers prudence; so soft, irresolute is King Louis. Let it be Messenger Mcrcitry, our Supreme Usher dc Breze ! On the morrow, which is the 20th of June, these Hundred and Forty-nine false Curates, no longer restrainable by his Grace of Paris, will desert in a body : let De Breze inter- vene, and produce — closed doors ! Not only shall there be Royal Session, in that Salle des Menus ; but no meeting, nor working (except by carpenters), till then. Your Third Es- tate, self-styled " National Assembly," shall suddenly see itself extruded from its Hall, by carpenters, in this dexterous way ; and reduced to do nothing, not even to meet, or articulately lament, — till Majesty, with Seance Royale and new miracles, be ready ! In this manner shall De Breze, as Mercury ex machina, intervene ; and, if the GEil-de-Boeuf mistake not, work deliver- ance from the nodus. Of poor De Breze we can remark that he has yet prospered in none of his dealings with these Commons. Five weeks ago, when they kissed the hand of Majesty, the mode he took got nothing but censure; and then his " sincere attachment," how was it scornfully whiffed aside ! Before supper, this night, he writes to President Bailly, a new Letter, to be delivered shortly after dawn to-morrow, in the King's name. Which Letter, how- ever, Bailly, in the pride of office, will merely crush together into his pocket, like a bill he docs not mean to pay. p Accordingly on Saturday morning the 20th of June, shrill- sounding heralds proclaim, through the streets of Versailles, , that there is to be Seance Royale next Mondav ; and no meet- '^ing of the States-General till then. And yet. we observe, President Bailly, in sound of this, and with De Breze's Letter in his pocket is proceeding, with National Assembly at his heels, to the accustomed Salle des Menus ; as if De Breze and heralds were mere wind. It is shut, this Salle; occupied by Gardes Franqaises. " Where is your Captain ? " The Cap- tain shows his royal order: workmen, he is grieved to say, are I40 CARLYLE [1789 all busy setting up the platform for his Majesty's Seance; most unfortunately, no admission ; admission, at furthest, for President and Secretaries to bring away papers, which the joiners might destroy! — President Bailly enters with Secre- taries ; and returns bearing papers : alas, within doors, instead of patriotic eloquence, there is now no noise but hammering, sawing, and operative screeching and rumbling! A profana- tion without parallel. P The Deputies stand grouped on the Paris Road, on this umbrageous Avenue de Versailles; complaining aloud of the indignity done them. Courtiers, it is supposed, look from their windows, and giggle. The morning is none of the comfort- ablest : raw ; it is even drizzling a little. '» But all travellers pause ; patriot gallery-men, miscellaneous spectators increase the groups. Wild counsels alternate. Some desperate Deputies propose to go and hold session on the great outer Staircase at Marly, under the King's windows ; for his Majesty, it seems, has driven over thither. Others talk of making the Chateau Forecourt, what they call Place d' Amies, a Runny- mede and new Champ de Mai of free Frenchmen : nay of awakening, to sounds of indignant Patriotism, the echoes of the CEil-de-Boeuf itself. — Notice is given that President Bailly,"^ aided by judicious Guillotin and others, has found place in 1 > the Tennis-Court of the Rue St. Franqois. Thither, in long- ■ drawn files, hoarse- jingling, like cranes on wing, the Commons j Deputies angrily wend. Strange sight w^as this in the Rue St. Frangois, Vieux Ver- sailles ! A naked Tennis-Court, as the pictures of that time still give it : four walls ; naked, except aloft some poor wooden penthouse, or roofed spectators'-gallery, hanging round them : • — on the floor not now an idle teeheeing, a snapping of balls and rackets ; but the bellowing din of an indignant National Representation, scandalously exiled thither ! However, a cloud , of witnesses looks down on them, from wooden penthouse, ' from w^all-top, from adjoining roof and chimney ; rolls to- wards them from all quarters, with passionate spoken blessings, y Some table can be procured to write on ; some chair, if not to sit on, then to stand on. The Secretaries undo their tapes ; Bailly has constituted the Assembly. Experienced Mounier, not wholly new to such things, in h Bailly, Memoires, i. 185-206. June22d-23d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 141 Parlementary revolts, which he has seen or heard of, thinks that it were well, in these lamentable threatening circum- stances, to unite themselves by an Oath. — Universal acclama- tion, as from smouldering bosoms getting vent ! The Oath is__ redacted ; pronounced aloud by President Bailly, — and indeed in such a sonorous tone that the cloud of witnesses, even out- doors, hear it, and bellow response to it. Six hundred right- hands rise with President Bailly 's, to take God above to wit- ness that they will not separate for man below, but will meet ^ in all places, under all circumstances, wheresoever two or three can get together, till they have made a Constitution. Made the Constitution, Friends ! That is a long task. Six hundred hands, meanwhile, will sign as they have sw^orn : six hundred save one; one Loyalist Abdiel, still visible by this sole light-point, and namable, poor " M. Martin d'Auch, from Castelnaudary, in Languedoc." Him they permit to sign or signify refusal ; they even save him from the cloud of witnesses, by declaring " his head deranged." At four o'clock, the signatures are all appended ; new meeting is fixed for Monday morning, earlier than the hour of the Royal Ses- sion; that our Hundred and Forty-nine Clerical deserters be not balked : we will meet " at the Recollets Church or else- where," in hope that our Hundred and Forty-nine will join us ; — and now it is time to go to dinner. \ f-^ This, then, is the Session of the Tcnnis-Court, famed :^j^ Seance du Jen de Pan me; the fame of which has gone forth ^o all lands. This is Mercurius de Breze's appearance as--, Deus ex machina; this is the fruit it brings! The giggle J of Courtiers in the Versailles Avenue has already died into gaunt silence. Did the distracted Court, with Garde-des- Sceaux Barentin, Triumvirate and Company, imagine that they could scatter six hundred National Deputies, big with a Na- tional Constitution, like as much barndoor poultry, liig with next to nothing, — by the white or black rod of a Supreme r Usher? Barndoor poultry fly cackling: but National Deputies .\- turn round, lion-faced; and, w^ith uplifted right-hand, swear an Oath that makes the four corners of France tremble. President Bailly has covered him.self witli honor; which shall become rewards. The National Assembly is now doiil)ly and trebly the Nation's Assembly ; not militant, martyred only, but triumphant; insulted, and which cnnll not he insulted. 142 CARLYLE [1789 Paris disembogues itself once more, to witness, " with grim looks," the Seance Royale:i which, by a new fehcity, is post- poned till Tuesday. The Hundred and Forty-nine, and even with Bishops among them, all in processional mass, have had free leisure to march off, and solemnly join the Commons sitting waiting in their Church. The Commons welcomed them with shouts, with embracings, nay with tears;; for it is grow- ing a life-and-death matter now. As for the Seance itself, the carpenters seem to have ac- complished their platform ; but all else remains unaccom- plished. Futile, we may say fatal, was the whole matter. King Louis enters, through seas of people, all grim-silent, angry with many things, — for it is a bitter rain too. Enters, to a Third-Estate, like-wise grim-silent ; which has been wetted waiting under mean porches, at back-doors, while Court and Privileged were entering by the front. King and Garde-des- Sceaux (there is no Necker visible) make known, not with- out longwindedness, the determinations of the royal breast. The Three Orders shall vote separately. On the other hand, France may look for considerable constitutional blessings ; as specified in these Five-and-thirty Articles,^ which Garde-des- Sceaux is waxing hoarse with reading. Which Five-and- thirty Articles, adds his Majesty again rising, if the Three Orders most unfortunately cannot agree together to effect them, I myself will effect : " seul jc ferai le bien de mes pcuples," \J — which being interpreted may signify, You, contentious Depu- ties of the States-General, have probably not long to be here ! But, in fine, all shall now withdraw for this day; and meet again, each Order in its separate place, to-morrow morning, for despatch of business. This is the determination of the royal breast: pithy and clear. And herewith King, retinue, Noblesse, majority of Clergy file out, as if the whole matter were satisfactorily completed. These file out; through grim-silent seas of people. Only the Commons Deputies file not out ; but stand there in gloomy silence, uncertain what they shall do. One man of them is certain ; one man of them discerns and dares ! It is now that -p King Mirabeau starts to the Tribune, and lifts up his lion- f 4 i See Arthur Young (Travels, i. 115-118) ; A. Lameth, &c. ;' Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, c. 4. k Histoire Parlemcntairc, i. 13. June22d.23d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 143 voice. Verily a word in season ; for, in such scenes, the mo- ment is the mother of ages! Had not Gabriel Honore been- there, — one can well fancy, how the Common Deputies, af- frighted at the perils which now yawned dim all round them, and waxing ever paler in each other's paleness, might very naturally, one after one, have glided off; and the whole course of European History have been different! But he is there. List to the brool of that royal forest- voice; sorrowful, low; fast swelling to a roar! Eyes kindle- at the glance of his eye: — National Deputies were missioned by a Nation ; they have sworn an Oath ; they — But lo ! while the lion's voice roars loudest, what Apparition is this? Apparition of Mercurius de Breze, muttering somewhat ! — " Speak out," cry several. — " Messieurs,'" shrills De Breze, repeating himself, " You have heard the King's orders ! " — Mirabeau glares on- him with fire-flushing face ; shakes the black lion's mane : " Yes, Monsieur, we have heard what the King was advised ' to say : and you, who cannot be the interpreter of his orders to the States-General ; you, who have neither place nor right of speech here ; you are not the man to remind us of it. Go, Monsieur, tell those who sent you that we are here by the will of the People, and that nothing but the force of bayonets shall send us hence ! "I And poor De Breze shivers forth from the-J National Assembly; — and also (if it be not in one faintest glimmer months later) finally from the page of History! — Hapless De Breze ; doomed to survive long ages, in men's memory, in this faint way, with tremulant w'hite rod ! He was true to Etiquette, which was his Faith here below ; a martyr to respect of persons. Short woollen cloaks could not kiss Majesty's hand as long velvet ones did. Nay lately, when the poor little Dauphin lay dead, and some ceremonial Visita- tion came, was he not punctual to announce it even to the Dauphin's dead body: " Monscigneur, a Deputation of the States-General !'» Sunt lachrymcc rernm. But what does the CEil-de-Buf, now when De Breze shivers back thither? Despatch that same force of bayonets? Not so : the seas of people still hang multitudinous, intent on what is passing; nay rush and roll, loud-billowing, into the Courts of the Chateau itself; for a report has risen that Necker is to be dismissed. Worst of all, the Gardes Franqaises seem IMoniteur {Hist. Pari. ii. 22). ;» Montgaillard, ii. 38. 144 CARLYLE [17S9 indisposed to act : " two Companies of them do not fire when ordered ! "« Necker, for not being at the Seance, shall be shouted for, carried home in triumph ; and must not be dis- missed. His Grace of Paris, on the other hand, has to fly with broken coach-panels, and owe his life to furious driving. The Gardes-dii-Corps (Body-Guards), which you were draw- ing out, had better be drawn in again.o There is no sending of bayonets to be thought of. Instead of soldiers, the Qiil-de-Boeuf sends — carpenters, to take down the platform. Ineffectual shift ! In few instants, the very carpenters cease wrenching and knocking at their platform ; standing on it, hammer in hand, and listen open- mouthed./' The Third Estate is decreeing that it is, was, and ^ will be nothing but a National Assembly ; and now, moreover, an inviolable one, all members of it inviolable : " infamous, traitorous, towards the Nation, and guilty of capital crime, is any person, body-corporate, tribunal, court or commission that now or henceforth, during the present session or after it, shall dare to pursue, interrogate, arrest, or cause to be arrested, detain or cause to be detained, any," etc., etc., " on whose part soever the same be commanded. "g Which done, one can wind up with this comfortable reflection from Abbe Sieyes : " Messieurs, you are to-day what yovi were yesterday." Courtiers may shriek ; but it is, and remains, even so. Their well-charged explosion has exploded through the touch- hole; covering themselves with scorches, confusion, and un- seemly soot! Poor Triumvirate, poor Queen; and above all, poor Queen's Husband, who means well, had he any fixed meaning! Folly is that wisdom which is wise only behind- hand. Few months ago these Thirty-five Concessions had filled France with a rejoicing which might have lasted for several years. Now it is unavailing, the very mention of it slighted; Majesty's express orders set at nought. All France is in a roar; a sea of persons, estimated at-i "ten thousand," whirls "all this day in the Palais Royal. "^ The remaining Clergy, and likewise some Forty-eight Noblesse, D'Orleans among them, have now forthwith gone over to the victorious Commons ; — by whom, as is natural, they are re- ceived " with acclamation." n Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 26. p Histoirc ParJewentaire, ii. 23. o Bailly, i. 217. q Montgaillard, ii. 47. r Arthur Young, i. 119. --t- July ist-iith] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 145 The Third Estate triumphs ; Versaihes Town shouting round it ; ten thousand whirhng all day in the Palais Royal ; and all France standing a-tiptoe, not unlike whirling! Let the CEil-de-Boeuf look to it. As for King Louis, he will swal- low his injuries; will temporize, keep silence; will at all costs have present peace. It was Tuesday the 23 of June, when he spoke that peremptory royal mandate ; and the week is not done till he has written to the remaining obstinate No- blesse, that they also must oblige him, and give in. D'Espre- menil rages his last ; Barrel Mirabeau " breaks his sword," making a vow, — which he might as well have kept. The " Triple Family " is now therefore complete ; the third erring brother, the Noblesse, having joined it ; — erring but pardonable ; soothed, so far as possible, by sweet eloquence from President Bailly. So triumphs the Third Estate ; and States-General are be- come National Assembly; and all France may sing Te Deum. By wise inertia, and. wise cessation of inertia, great victory has been gained. It is the last night of June: all night you meet nothing on the streets of Versailles but " men running with torches," with shouts and jubilation. From the 2d of May when they kissed the hand of Majesty, to this 30th of June when men run with torches, we count eight weeks and three days. For eight weeks the National Carroccio has stood far- seen, ringing many a signal ; and, so much having now gath- ered round it, may hope to stand. Chapter III.— Broglie the War-God. The Court feels indignant that it is conquered ; but what then? Another time it will do better. Mercury descended in vain ; now has the time come for Mars. — The gods of the CEil-de-Boeuf have withdrawn into the darkness of their cloudy Ida ; and sit there, shaping and forging what may be needful, be it '' billets of a new National Bank," munitions of war, or things forever inscrutable to men. Accordingly, what means this " aj^paratus of troops "? The National Assembly can get no furtherance for its Committee of Subsistences; can hear only that, at Paris, the Bakers' shops are besieged ; that, in the Provinces, people are " living on meal-husks and boiled grass." But on all highways there Vol. I. — 10 146 CARLYLE [1789 hover dust-clouds, with the march of regiments, with the trail- ing of cannon : foreign Pandours, of fierce aspect ; Salis- Samade, Esterhazy, Royal-Allemand ; so many of them for- eign; to the number of thirty thousand, — which fear can magnify to fifty : all wending towards Paris and Versailles ! Already, on the heights of Montmartre, is a digging and delving; too like a scarping and trenching. The effluence of Paris is arrested Versailles-ward by a barrier of cannon at Sevres Bridge. From the Queen's Mews, cannon stand pointed on the National-Assembly Hall itself. The National Assembly has its very slumbers broken by the tramp of soldiery, swarming and defiling, endless, or seemingly end- less, all round those spaces, at dead of night, " without drum- music, without audible word of command. "-^ What means it? Shall eight, or even shall twelve Deputies, our Mirabeaus, Barnaves at the head of them, be whirled suddenly to the Castle of Ham ; the rest ignominiously dispersed to the winds ? No National Assembly can make the Constitution with cannon levelled on it from the Queen's Mews ! What means this reti- cence of the CEil-de-Boeuf, broken only by nods and shrugs? In the mystery of that cloudy Ida, what is it that they forge and shape? — Such questions must distracted Patriotism keep asking, and receive no answer but an echo. Questions and echo bad enough in themselves : — and now, above all, while the hungry food-year, which runs from August to August, is getting older; becoming more and more a famine-year ! With " meal-husks and boiled grass," ^ Brigands may actually collect ; and, in crowds, at farm and mansion, howl angrily, Food! Food! It is in vain to send soldiers against them : at sight of soldiers they disperse, they vanish as under ground ; then directly reassemble elsewhere for new tumult and plunder. Frightful enough to look at upon ; but what to hear of, reverberated through Twenty-five Millions of suspicious minds ! Brigands and Broglie, open Conflagra- tion, preternatural Rumor are driving mad most hearts in France. What will the issue of these things be? At Marseilles, many weeks ago, the Townsmen have taken arms ; for " suppressing of Brigands," and other purposes : the military Commandant may make of it what he will. Else- where, everywhere, could not the like be done? Dubious, on s A. Lamcth, Assemblee Constituante, i. 41. July ist-iith] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 147 the distracted Patriot Imagination, wavers, as a last deliver- ance, sonic foreshadow of a National Guard. P>ut conceive, above all, the Wooden Tent in the Palais Royal ! A universal hubbub there, as of dissolving worlds : there loudest bellows the mad, mad-making voice of Rumor; there sharpest gazes Suspicion into the pale dim World-Whirlpool ; discerning shapes and phantasms : imminent bloodthirsty Regiments camped on the Champ-de-Mars ; dispersed National Assembly ; redhot cannon-balls (to burn Paris) : — the mad War-god and Bellona's sounding thongs. To the calmest man it is be- coming too plain that battle is inevitable. Inevitable, silently nod Messeigneurs and Broglie: In- evitable and brief! Your National Assembly, stopped short in its Constitutional labors, may fatigue the royal ear with addresses and remonstrances : those cannon of ours stand duly levelled; those troops are here. The King's Declaration, with its Thirty-five too generous Articles, was spoken, was not listened to ; but remains yet unrevoked : he himself shall effect it, sciil il fcra! As for Broglie, he has his headquarters at Versailles, all as in a seat of war: clerks writing; significant staff -officers, in- clined to taciturnity ; plumed aides-de-camp, scouts, orderlies flying or hovering. He himself looks forth, important, im- penetrable ; listens to Besenval Commandant of Paris, and his warning and earnest counsels (for he has come out repeatedly on purpose), with a silent smile.< The Parisians resist? scorn- fully cry Messeigneurs. As a meal-mob may! They have sat quiet, these five generations, submitting to all. Their Mercier, declared, in these very years, that a Parisian revolt was hence- forth " impossible."" Stand by the royal Declaration c^ the Twenty-third of June. The Nobles of France, valorous, chiv- alrous as of old, will rally round us with one heart; — and as for this which you call Third Estate, and which we call canaille of unwashed Sansculottes, of Patclins, Scribblers, fac- tious Spouters, — brave Broglie, " with a whiff of grapeshot {salve de canons)," if need be. will give quick account of it. Thus reason they: on their cloudy Ida; hidden from men, — men also hidden from them. Good is grapeshot, Messeigneurs, on one condition : that the shooter also were made of metal ! But unfortunately he /Besenval, iii. 398. m Mercier, Tableau (/<■ Paris, vi. 22. 148 CARLYLE [1789 is made of flesh ; under his buffs and bandoleers your hired shooter has instincts, fceHngs, even a kind of thought. If is his kindred, bone of his bone, this same canaille that shall be whiffed ; he has brothers in it, a father and mother, — living on meal-husks and boiled grass. His very doxy, not yet " dead i' the spital," drives him into military heterodoxy ; declares that if he shed Patriot blood, he shall be accursed among men. The soldier, who has seen his pay stolen by rapacious Foulons, his blood wasted by Soubises, Pompadours, and the gates of promotion shut inexorably on him if he were not born noble, — is himself not without griefs against you. Your cause is not the soldier's cause ; but, as would seem, your own only, and no other god's nor man's. For example, the world may have heard how, at Bethune lately, when there rose some " riot about grains," of which sort there are so many, and the soldiers stood drawn out, and the word " Fire ! " was given, — not a trigger stirred ; only the butts of all muskets rattled angrily against the ground ; and the soldiers stood glooming, with a mixed ex- pression of countenance ; — till clutched " each under the arm of a patriot householder," they were all hurried off, in this manner, to be treated and caressed, and have their pay in- creased by subscription !^ Neither have the Gardes Frangaises, the best regiment of the line, shown any promptitude for street-firing lately. They | returned grumbling from Reveillon's ; and have not burnt a single cartridge since ; nay, as we saw, not even when bid. A dangerous humor dwells in these Gardes. Notable men too, in their way! Valadi the Pythagorean was, at one time,, an officer of theirs. Nay, in the ranks, under the three-cornered felt and cockade, what hard heads may there not be, and reflections going on, — unknown to the public! One head of the hardest we do now discern there: on the shoulders of a certain Sergeant Iloche. Lazare Hoche, that is the name of him ; he used to be about the Versailles Royal Stables, nephew of a poor herbwoman ; a handy lad ; exceedingly addicted to )< reading. He is now Sergeant Hoche, and can rise no farther, he lays out his pay in rushlights, and cheap editions of books.w On the whole, the best seems to be: Consig:n these V Histoirc Parlcmcntairc. w Dictionnairc dcs Hommcs Marcjnaiis, Londres (Paris), iSoo, ii. 198. July 1st- nthj THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 149 Gardes Frangaises to their Barracks. So Besenval thinks, and orders. Consigned to their barracks, the Gardes Fran-^ 9aises do but form a " Secret Association," an Engagement not j to act against the National Assembly. Debauched by Valadi ' •^ the Pythagorean ; debauched by money and women ! cry : rBesenval and innumerable others. Debauched by what you,J j will, or in need of no debauching, behold them, long files of \ them, their consignment broken, arrive, headed by their Sergeants, on the 26th day of June, at the Palais Royal ! 'Welcomed with vivats, with presents, and a pledge of patriot liquor ; embracing and embraced ; declaring in words that the cause of France is their cause ! Next day and the following days the like. What is singular too, except this patriot humor, and breaking of their consignment, they behave otherwise with " the most rigorous accuracy."-*" They are growing questionable, these Gardes ! Eleven ringleaders of them are put in the Abbaye Prison. It boots not in the least. The imprisoned Eleven have only, " by the hand of an individual," to drop, towards nightfall, a line in the Cafe de Foy ; where Patriotism harangues loudest on its table. " Two hundred young persons, soon waxing to four j thousand," with fit crowbars, roll towards the Abbaye ; smite asunder the needful doors; and bear out their Eleven, with other military victims : — to supper in the Palais Royal Garden : to board and lodging " in camp-beds, in the Theatre des . Varictcs; " other national Prytaneum as yet not being in readi- ness. Most deliberate ! Nay so punctual were these young per- sons, that finding one military victim to have been imprisoned for real civil crime, they returned him to his cell, with protest. Why new military force was not called out? New military force was called out. New military force did arrive, full gal- lop, with drawn sabre : but the people gently " laid hold of their bridles;" the dragoons sheathed their swords; lifted their caps by way of salute, and sat like mere statues of dragoons, — except indeed that a drop of liquor being brought them, they " drank to the King and Nation with the greatest cordiality."^ And now, ask in return, why Messeigncurs and Broglie the great god of war, on seeing these things, did not pause, and take some other course, any other course? Unhappily, as X Besenval, iii. 394-6. 3' Histoire Parlcmentaire, ii. 32. I50 CARLYLE [1789 we said, they could see nothing. Pride, which goes before a fall ; wrath, if not reasonable, yet pardonable, most natural, had hardened their hearts and heated their heads: so, with imbecility and violence (ill-matched pair), they rush to seek their hour. All Regiments are not Gardes Franqaises, or i debauched by Valadi the Pythagorean: let fresh undebauched Regiments come up ; let Royal-Allemand, Salis-Samade, Swiss j^' Chateau- Vieux come up, — which can fight, but can hardly speak except in German gutturals ; let soldiers march, and highways thunder with artillery-wagons : Majesty has a nczu Royal Session to hold, — and miracles to work there ! The whiff of grapeshot can, if needful, become a blast and tempest. In which circumstances, before the redhot balls begin rain- ing, may not the Hundred-and-twenty Paris Electors, though their Cahicr is long since finished, see good to meet again daily, as an " Electoral Club " ? They meet first " in a Tavern ;" — where " a large wedding-party " cheerfully gives place to them.- But latterly they meet in the Hotel-de-ViUe, in the Townhall itself. Flesselles, Provost of Merchants, with his four Echevins (Scabms, Assessors), could not prevent it ; such was the force of public opinion. He, with his Eche- vins, and the Six-and-Twenty Town-Councillors, all appointed from Above, may well sit silent there, in their long gowns; and consider, with awed eye, what prelude this is of con- vulsion coming from Below, and how they themselves shall fare in that! Chapter IV.— To Arms! So hangs it, dubious, fateful, in the sultry days of July. It is the passionate printed advice of M. Marat, to abstain, of all things, from violence.^ Nevertheless the hungry poor are already burning Town Barriers, where Tribute on eatables is levied ; getting clamorous for food. i The twelfth July morning is Svmday: the streets are well placarded with an enormous-sized De par le Roi, " inviting peaceable citizens to remain within doors," to feel no alarm, to gather in no crowd. Why so? What mean these " placards z Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille {Collection des Memoires, par Berville et Barriere, Paris, 1821), p. 269. a Avis au Pciiplc, ou les Ministres devoiles, ist July 1789 (in Histoirc Parlementairc, ii. 27), July i2th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 151 fof enormous size"? Above all, what means this clatter of military; dragoons, hussars, rattling in from all points of the compass towards the Place Louis Quinze; with a staid gravity of face, though saluted with mere nicknames, hootings and even missiles ?& Besenval is with them. Swiss Guards of his are already in the Champs Elysees, with four pieces of [ artillery. Have the destroyers descended on us, then? From the Bridge of Sevres to utmost Vincennes, from Saint-Denis to the Champ-de-Mars, we are begirt ! Alarm, of the vague un- known, is in every heart. The Palais Royal has become a place of awestruck interjections, silent shakings of the head: one can fancy with what dolorous stound the noon-tide cannon (which the Sun fires at crossing his meridan) went off there; bodeful, like an inarticulate voice of doom.c Are these troops verily come out " against Brigands " ? Where are the Brig- ands? What mystery is in the wind? — Hark! a human voice reporting articulately the Job's-news: Neckcr, People's Min- ister, Saviour of France, is dismissed. Impossible ; incredible ! ^"^ Treasonous of the public peace! Such a voice ought to be choked in the water- works ;£^ — had not the news-bringer quickly fled. Nevertheless, friends, make of it what you will, the news is true. Necker is gone. Necker hies northward -incessantly, in obedient secrecy, since yesternight. We have \^ a new Ministry: Broglie the War-god; Aristocrat Breteuil; ''^iFoulon who said the people might eat grass! Rumor, therefore, shall arise; in the Palais Royal, and in broad France. Paleness sits on every face ; confused tremor and fremescence; waxing into thunder-peals, of Fury stirred on by Fear, f But see Camille Desmoulins, from the Cafe de Foy, rush- ing out, sybilline in face; his hair streaming, in each hand a pistol ! He springs to a table : the Police satellites are eying him ; alive they shall not take him, not they alive him alive. This time he speaks without stammering: — Friends! shall we die like hunted hares? Like sheep hounded into their pin- fold ; bleating for mercy, where is no mercy, but only a whetted knife? The hour is come; the supreme hour of Frenchman and Man ; when Oppressors are to try conclusions with Op- pressed ; and the word is, swift Death, or Deliverance forever. 6 Besenval, iii. 411. c Histoirc Parlementairc, ii. 81. d Ibid. 152 CARLYLE [1789 Let such hour be w^//-come ! Us, meseems, one cry only befits : To Arms ! Let universal Paris, universal France, as with the throat of the whirlwind, sound only : To arms ! — " To arms ! " yell responsive the innumerable voices ; like one great voice, as of a Demon yelling- from the air : for all faces wax fire-eyed, all hearts burn up into madness. In such, or fitter words,^ does Camillc evoke the Elemental Powers, in this great moment. — Friends, continues Camille, some rallying- sign! Cockades, green ones; — the color of Hope! — as with the flight of locusts, these green tree-leaves ; green ribands from the neighboring shops; all green things are snatched, and made cockades of. Camille descends from his table, " stifled with embraces, wetted with tears ; " has a bit of green riband handed him ; sticks it in his hat. And now to Curtius* Image-shop there ; to the Boulevards ; to the four winds ; and rest not till France be on fire ! France, so long shaken and wind-parched, is probably at the right inflammable point. — As for poor Curtius, who, one grieves to think, might be but imperfectly paid, — he cannot make two words about his Images. The Wax-bust of Necker, the Wax-bust of D'Orleans, helpers of France ; these, cov- ered with crape, as in funeral procession, or after the manner of suppliants appealing to Heaven, to Earth, and Tartarus itself, a mixed multitude bears off. For a sign ! As indeed man, with his singular imaginative faculties, can do little or nothing without signs : thus Turks look to their Prophet's Banner; also Osier Mannikins have been burnt, and Necker's Portrait has erewhile figured, aloft on its perch. In this manner march they, a mixed, continually increasing multitude ; armed with axes, staves and miscellanea ; grim, many-sounding, through the streets. Be all Theatres shut ; let all dancing, on planked floor, or on the natural greensward, cease ! Instead of a Christian Sabbath, and feast of guinguette tabernacles, it shall be a Sorcerer's Sabl)ath ; and Paris, gone rabid, dance, — with the Fiend for piper! However, Besenval, with horse and foot, is in the Place Louis Quinze. Mortals promenading homewards, in the fall of the day, saunter by, from Chaillot or Passy, from flirtation and a little thin wine; with sadder step than usual. Will e Vieux Cordelier, par Camille Desmoulins, No. 5 (reprinted in Col- lection des Memoires, par Baudouin Freres, Paris, 1825), p. 81. July 12th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 153 the Bust-Procession pass that way ? Behold it ; behold also Prince Lambesc dash forth on it, with his Royal- Allemands ! Shots fall, and sabre-strokes ; Busts are hewed asunder ; and, alas, also heads of men. A sabred Procession has nothing for it but to explode, along what streets, alleys, Tuileries Avenues it finds; and disappear. One unarmed man lies hewed down; a Garde Fran<;aise by his uniform: bear him (or bear even the report of him) dead and glory to his Barracks; — where he has comrades still alive ! But why not now, victorious Lambesc, charge through that Tuileries Garden itself, where the fugitives are vanishing? Not show the Sunday promenaders too, how steel glitters, besprent with blood ; that it be told of, and men's ears tingle ? — Tingle, alas, they did; but the wrong way. Victorious Lambesc, in this his second or Tuileries charge, succeeds but in overturn- ing (call it not slashing, for he struck with the flat of his sword) one man, a poor old schoolmaster, most pacifically tottering there ; and is driven out, by barricade of chairs, by flights of " bottles and glasses," by execrations in bass voice and treble. Most delicate is the mob-queller's vocation ; ] wherein Too-much may be as bad as Not-enough. For each / of these bass voices, and more each treble voice, borne to all ' parts of the City, rings now nothing but distracted indigna- tion; will ring all night. The cry, To arms! roars tenfold; steeples with their metal storm-voice boom out> as the sun sinks ; armorers' shops are broken open, plundered ; the streets are a living foam-sea, chafed by all the winds. Such issue came of Lambesc's charge on the Tuileries Garden: no striking of salutary terror into Chaillot prome- naders ; a striking into broad wakefulness of Frenzy and the three Furies, — which otherwise were not asleep! For they lie always, those subterranean Eumcnides (fabulous and yet so true), in the dullest existence of man; and can dance, bran- dishing their dusky torches, shaking their serpent-hair. Lam- besc with Royal-Allemand may ride to his barracks, with curses for his marching-music ; then ride back again, like one troubled in mind : vengeful Gardes Franqaiscs, .yacrring. with knit brows, start out on him, from their barracks in the Chausse d'Antin ; pour a volley into him (killing and wounding) ; which he must not answer, but ride on.« a Weber, ii. 75-91. c 154 CARLYLE [1789 Counsel dwells not under the plumed hat. If the Eumenides awaken, and Broglie has given no orders, what can a Besenval do? When the Gardes Frangaises, with Palais-Royal volun- teers, roll down, greedy of more vengeance, to the Place Louis Quinze itself, they find neither Besenval, Lambesc, Royal-Allemand, nor any soldier now there. Gone is military order. On the far Eastern Boulevard, of Saint-Antoine, the Chasseurs Normandie arrive, dusty, thirsty, after a hard day's ride ; but can find no billet-master, see no course in this City of Confusions ; cannot get to Besenval, cannot so much as discover where he is : Normandie must even bivouac there, in its dust and thirst, — unless some patriot will treat it to a cup of liquor, with advices. Raging multitudes surround the H6tel-de-Ville, crying: Arms ! Orders ! The Six-and-twenty Town-Councillors, with -, their long gowns, have ducked under (into the raging chaos) ; \^ — shall never emerge more. Besenval is painfully wriggling- iimself out, to the Champ-de-Mars ; he must sit there " in the cruelest uncertainty : " courier after courier may dash off for Versailles ; but will bring back no answer, can hardly bring him- self back. For the roads are all blocked with batteries and pickets, with floods of carriages arrested for examination : such was Broglie's one sole order; the (Eil-de-Boeuf, hearing in the distance such mad din, which sounded almost like invasion, will before all things keep its own head whole. A new Ministry, with, as it were, but one foot in the stirrup, cannot take leaps. Mad Paris is abandoned altogether to itself. What a Paris, when the darkness fell ! A European metro- politan City hurled suddenly forth from its old combinations and arrangements ; to crash tumultuously together, seeking new. Use and wont will now no longer direct any man ; each man, with what of originality he has, must begin thinking; or following those that think. Seven hundred thousand indi- viduals, on the sudden, find all their old paths, old ways of act- ing and deciding, vanish from under their feet. And so there go they, with clangor and terror, they know not as yet whether running, swimming or flying, — headlong into the New Era. With clangor and terror: from above, Broglie the war-god im- pends, preternatural, with his redhot cannon-balls ; and from below, a preternatural Brigand-world menaces with dirk and firebrand : madness rules the hour. July i3thj THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 155 p Happily, in place of the submerged Twenty-six, the Electoral ^ 1 Club is gathering ; has declared itself a " Provisional Munici- l^pality." On the morrow it will get Provost Flesselles, with an Echevin or two, to give help in many things. For the present it decrees one most essential thing: that forthwith a " Parisian Militia " shall be enrolled. Depart, ye heads of Districts, to labor in this great work ; while we here, in Permanent Com- mittee, sit alert. Let fencible men, each party in its own range of streets, keep watch and ward, all night. Let Paris court a little fever-sleep ; confused by such fever-dreams, of " violent motions at the Palais Royal ; " — or from time to time start awake, and look out, palpitating, in its nightcap, at the clash of discordant mutually-unintelligible Patrols ; on the gleam of dis- tant Barriers, going up ail-too ruddy towards the vault of Night.fr Chapter V. — Give Us Arms. On Monday the huge City has awoke, not to its week-day in- dustry : to what a different one ! The working man has become a fighting man ; has one want only : that of arms. The industry of all crafts has paused ; — except it be the smith's, fiercely ham- mering pikes ; and, in a faint degree, the kitchener's, cooking offhand victuals : for houche va toujoitrs. Women too are sew--\^ ing cockades ; — not now of green, which being D'Artois color, J ^ the H6tel-de-Ville has had to interfere in it ; but of red and blue, our old Paris colors : these, once based on a ground of constitu- tional zvhite, are the famed Tricolor, — which (if Prophecy err not) " will go round the world." All shops, unless it be the Bakers' and Vintners', are shut : Paris is in the streets; — rushing, foaming like some Venice wine-glass into which you had dropped poison. The tocsin, by order, is pealing madly all steeples. Arms, ye Elector Munici- pals ; thou Flesselles with thy Echevins, give us arms ! Fles- selles gives what he can ; fallacious, perhaps, insidious promises of arms from Charlevillc ; order to seek arms here, order to seek them there. The new jMunicipals give what they can ; some three hundred and sixty indifferent firelocks, the equipment of the City-Watch : " a man in wooden shoes, and without coat, directly clutches one of them, and mounts guard." Also as b Deux Amis, i. 267-306. ^ u 156 CARLYLE [1789 hinted, an order to all Smiths to make pikes with their whole soul. ' Heads of Districts are in fervent consultation ; subordinate Patriotism roams distracted, ravenous for arms. Hitherto at the H6tel-de-VilIe was only such modicum of indifferent fire- locks as we have seen. At the so-called Arsenal, there lies nothing but rust, rubbish and saltpetre, — overlooked too by the guns of the Bastille. His Majesty's Repository, what they call Gardc-M cubic, is forced and ransacked : tapestries enough, and gauderies ; but of serviceable fighting-gear small stock ! Two silver-mounted cannons there are ; an ancient gift from his Majesty of Siam to Louis Fourteenth: gilt sword of the Good Henri ; antique Chivalry arms and armor. These, and such as these, a necessitous Patriotism snatches greedily, for want of better. The Siamese cannons go trundling, on an errand they were not meant for. Among the indifferent firelocks are seen tourney-lances ; the princely helm and hauberk glittering amid ill-hatted heads, — as in a time when all times and their posses- sions are suddenly sent jumbling! At the Maison dc Saint-Lazare, Lazar-House once, now a Correction-House with Priests, there was no trace of arms ; but, on the other hand, corn, plainly to a culpable extent. Out with it, to market ; in this scarcity of grains ! — Heavens, will "fifty- two carts," in long rows, hardly carry it to the Halle aiix Blcds? Well, truly, ye reverend Fathers, was your pantry filled ; fat are your larders ; over-generous your wine-bins, ye plotting ex- asperators of the Poor ; traitorous forestallers of bread ! Vain is protesting, entreaty on bare knees : the House of Saint-Lazarus has that in it which comes not out by protesting. Behold, how, from every window, it vomits: mere torrents of furniture, of bellowing and hurlyburly ; — the cellars also leak- ing wine. Till, as was natural, smoke rose, — kindled, some say, by the desperate Saint-Lazaristes themselves, desperate of other riddance ; and the Establishment vanished from this world in flame. Remark nevertheless that " a thief " (set on or not by Aristocrats), being detected there, is " instantly hanged." Look also at the Chatelet Prison. The Debtors' Prison of La Force is broken from without ; and they that sat in bondage to Aristocrats go free: hearing of which the Felons at the Chatelet do likewise " dig up their pavements," and stand on the offensive ; with the best prospects, — had not Patriotism, passing Julyisth] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 157 that way, " fired a volley " into the Felon world ; and crushed it down again under hatches. Patriotism consorts not with thieving and felony : surely also Punishment, this day, hitches (if she still hitch) after Crime, with frightful shoes-of-swiftness f " Some score or two " of wretched persons, found prostrate with drink in the cellars of that Saint-Lazare, are indignantly haled to prison ; the Jailor has no room ; whereupon, other place of security not suggesting itself, it is written, " on les pcndit, they hanged them."o Brief is the word ; not wathout signifi- cance, be it true or untrue ! In such circumstances, the Aristocrat, the unpatriotic rich man is packing-up for departure. But he shall not get depart- ed. A wooden-shod force has seized all Barriers, burnt or not : all that enters, all that seeks to issue, is stopped there, and dragged to the PI6tel-de-Ville : coaches, tumbrils, plate, furni- ture, *' many meal-sacks," in time even " flocks and herds " en- cumber the Place de Greve.& And so it roars, and rages, and brays ; drums beating, steeples pealing, criers rushing with hand-bells : " Oyez, oyez, All men to their Districts to be enrolled ! " The Districts have met in gardens, open squares ; are getting marshalled into volunteer troops. No redhot ball has yet fallen from Besenval's Camp ; on the contrary. Deserters with their arms are continually dropping in : nay now, joy of joys, at two in the afternoon, the Gardes Frangaises, being ordered to Saint-Denis, and flatly .declining, have come over in a body ! It is a fact worth many. Three thousand six hundred of the best fighting men, with complete accoutrement ; with cannoneers even, and cannon ! Their officers are left standing alone ; could not so much as suc- ceed in " Spiking the guns." The very Swiss, it may now be hoped, Chateau-Vieux and the others, will have doubts about fighting. Our Parisian Militia, — which some think it were better to name National Guard, — is prospering as heart could wish. It promised to be forty-eight thousand ; but will in few hours double and quadruple that number: invincible, if we had only arms ! But see, the promised Charleville Boxes, marked Arfillcrirf Here, then, are arms enough ? — Conceive the blank face of Pa- a Histoire Parlemcntairc, ii. 96. b Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille, p. 290. *-. 158 CARLYLE [1789 triotism, when it found them filled with rags, foul linen, can- dle-ends, and bits of wood ! Provost of the Merchants, how is this ? Neither at the Chatreux Convent, whither we were sent with signed order, is there or ever was there any weapon of war. Nay here, in this Seine Boat, safe under tarpaulings (had not the nose of Patriotism been of the finest), are "five thou- sand-weight of gunpowder ; " not coming i)i, but surreptitiously going out! What meanest thou, Flesselles? 'Tis a tickhsh game, that of " amusing" us. Cat plays with captive mouse :^ but mouse with enraged cat, with enraged National Tiger? J Meanwhile, the faster, O ye black-aproned Smiths, smite; with strong arm and willing heart. This man and that, all stroke from head to heel, shall thunder alternating, and ply the great forge-hammer, till stithy reel and ring again ; while ever and anon, overhead, booms the alarm-cannon, — for the City has now got gunpowder. Pikes are fabricated; fifty thousand ofn them, in six-and-thirty hours ; judge whether the Black-aproned i W- have been idle. Dig trenches, unpave the streets, ye others,- assiduous, men and maid, cram the earth in barrel-barricades, at each of them a volunteer sentry ; pile the whinstones in win- dow-sills and upper rooms. Have scalding pitch, at least boiling water ready, ye weak old women, to pour it and dash it on Royal-Allemand, with your old skinny arms : your shrill curses along with it will not be wanting ! — Patrols of the new- born National Guard, bearing torches, scour the streets, all that night ; which otherwise are vacant, yet illuminated in every win- dow by order. Strange-looking ; like some naphtha-lighted "7 City of the Dead, with here and there a flight of perturbed Ghosts. O poor mortals, how ye make this Earth bitter for each other '; this fearful and wonderful Life fearful and horrible ; and Satan has his place in all hearts ! Such agonies and ragings and wailings ye have, and have had, in all times : — to be buried all, in so deep silence ; and the salt sea is not swoln with your tears. Great meanwhile is the moment, when tidings of Freedom reach us ; when the long-enthralled soul, from amid its chains and squalid stagnancy, arises, were it still only in blindness and bewilderment, and swears by Him that made it, that it will be freet Free? Understand that well, it is the deep command- ment, dimmer or clearer, of our whole being, to be jrce. Free- dom is the one purport, wisely aimed at, or unwisely, of all Julyi3th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 159 man's struggles, toilings and sufferings, in this Earth. Yes, su- preme is such a moment (if thou have known it) : first vision as of a flame-girt Sinai, in this our waste Pilgrimage, — which thenceforth wants not its pillar of cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night! Something it is even, — nay, something con- siderable, when the chains have grown corrosive, poisonous, — to be free " from oppression by our fellow-man." Forward, ye maddened sons of France ; be it toward this destiny or toward that ! Around you is but starvation, falsehood, corruption and the calm of death. Where ye are is no abiding. Imagination may, imperfectly, figure how Commandant Besenval, in the Champ-de-Mars, has worn out these sorrowful hours. Insurrection raging all round ; his men melting away ! From Versailles, to the most pressing messages, comes no answer ; or once only some vague word of answer which is worse than none. A Council of Officers can decide merely that there is no decision : Colonels inform hmi, " weeping," that they do not think their men will fight. Cruel uncertainty is here,- war-god Broglie sits yonder, inaccessible in his Olympus ; does not descend terror-clad, does not produce his whifif of grape- shot ; sends no orders. Truly, in the Chateau of Versailles all seems mystery : in the Town of Versailles, w^ere we there, all is rumor, alarm and in- dignation. An august National Assembly sits, to appearance, menaced with death ; endeavoring to defy death. It has re- solved " that Necker carries with him the regrets of the Na- tion." It has sent solemn Deputation over to the Chateau, with entreaty to have these troops withdrawn. In vain : his AIajcsty,_ with a singular composure, invites us to be busy rather with our own duty, making the Constitution ! Foreign Pandours, and suchlike, go pricking and prancing, with a swashbuckler air; with an eye too probably to the Salle des Menus, — were it not for the " grim-looking countenances " that crowd all avenues there.o Be firm, ye National Senators; the cynosure of a firm, grim-looking people ! The august National Senators determine that there shall, at least, be Permanent Session till this thing end. Wherein, however, consider that worthy Lafranc de Pompignan, our new President, whom we have named Bailly's successor, is an old man, wearied with tnany things. He is the Brother of that a See Lamcth ; Fcrrieres, &c. i6o CARLYLE [1789 Pompignan who meditated lamentably on the Book of Lamen- tations: Savcs-vous pourquoi Jeremie Se lamentait toute so vie? C'cst qu'il prevoyait Que Pompignan le traduirait! Poor Bishop Pompignan withdraws ; having got Lafayette for helper or substitute : this latter, as nocturnal Vice-President, .' with a thin house in disconsolate humor, sits sleepless, with ; lights unsnuffed ; — waiting what the hours will bring. So at Versailles. But at Paris, agitated Besenval, before retiring for the night, has stept over to old M, de Sombreuil, of the Hotel des Invalides hard by. M. de Sombreuil has, what is a great secret, some eight-and-twenty thousand stand o^ muskets deposited in his cellars there ; but no trust in the temper of his Invalides. This day, for example, he sent twenty of the fellows down to unscrew those muskets ; lest Sedition might snatch at them : but scarcely, in six hours, had the twenty unscrewed twenty gun-locks, or dogheads {chines) of locks, — each Invalide his dogshead ! If ordered to fire, they would, he imagines, turn their cannon against himself. Unfortunate old military gentlemen, it is your hour, not of glory ! Old Marguis de Launay too, of the Bastille, has pulled up his drawbridges long since, "and retired into his interior; | with sentries walking on his battlements, under the midnight sky, aloft over the glare of illuminated Paris ; — whom a Na- tional Patrol, passing that way, takes the liberty of firing at : "seven shots towards twelve at night," which do not take ef¥ect.& This was the 13th day of July 1789; a worse day, many said, than the last 13th was, when only hail fell out of Heaven, not madness rose out of Tophet, ruining worse than crops ! In these same days, as Chronology will teach us, hot old Marquis Mirabeau lies stricken down, at Argentcuil, — not with- in sound of these alarm-guns; for he properly is not there, and only the body of him now lies, deaf and cold forever. It was on Saturday night that he, drawing his last life-breaths, gave up the ghost there ; — leaving a world, which would never go to his mind, now broken out, seemingly, into deliration and the culhute gcncrale. What is it to him, departing elsewhither, on his long journey ? The old Chateau Mirabeau stands silent, far b Deux Amis de la Liberie, i. 312. July 14th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 161 off, on its scarped rock, in that " gorge of two windy valleys ; " the pale-fading spectre now of a Chateau: this huge World- riot, and France, and the World itself, fades also, like a shadow on the great still mirror-sea ; and all shall be as God wills. Young Mirabeau, sad of heart, for he loved this crabbed brave old Father ; sad of heart, and occupied with sad cares, — is withdrawn from Public History, The great crisis transacts itself without him.c Chapter VI. — Storm and Victory. But, to the living and the struggling, a new Fourteenth morn- ing dawns. Under all roofs of this distracted City is the nodus of a drama, not untragical, crowding towards solution. The bustlings and preparings, the tremors and menaces; the tears that fell from old eyes ! This day, my sons, ye shall quit you like men. By the memory of your fathers' wrongs, by the hope of your children's rights! Tyranny impends in red wrath: help for you is none, if not in your own right hands. This day ye must do or die. From earliest light, a sleepless Permanent Committee has heard the old cry, now waxing almost frantic, mutinous : Arms ! Arms ! Provost Flesselles, or what traitors there are among you, may think of those Charleville Boxes. A hundred-and- fifty-thousand of us ; and but the third man furnished with so much as a pike ! Arms are the one thing needful ; with arms we are an unconquerable man-defying National Guard ; with- out arms, a rabble to be whiffed with grapeshot. Happily the word has arisen, for no secret can be kept, — that there lie muskets at the Hotel des InvaUdes. Thither will we : King's Procureur M. Ethys de Corny, and whatsoever of authority a Permanent Committee can lend, shall go with us. Besenval's Camp is there ; perhaps he will not fire on us ; if ^he kill us, we shall but die. Alas, poor Besenval, with his troops melting away in that manner, has not the smallest humor to fire ! At five o'clock this morning, as he lay dreaming, oblivious in the Ecolc Militaire, a " figure " stood suddenly at his bedside ; " with face rather handsome ; eyes inflamed, speech rapid and curt, air audacious :" such a figure drew Priam's curtains! The message and mo- c Fils Adoptif, Mirabeau, vi. 1. i. Vol. I.— II 1 62 CARLYLE [1789 nition of the figure was, that resistance would be hopeless ; that if blood flowed, woe to him who shed it. Thus spoke the figure : and vanished. " Withal there was a kind of eloquence that struck one." Besenval admits that he should have arrested him, but did not.d Who this figure with inflamed eyes, with speech rapid and curt, might be? Besenval knows, but men- tions not. Camille Desmoulins? Pythagorean Marquis Valadi, inflamed with " violent motions all night at the Palais Royal ? " Fame names him " Young M. Meillar ; 'V then shuts her lips about him forever. In any case, behold, about nine in the morning, our National Volunteers rolhng in long wide flood south-westward to the Hotel des Invalides; in search of the one thing needful. King's Procureur M. Ethys de Corny and officials are there ; the Cure of Saint Etienne du Mont marches unpacific at the head of his militant Parish ; the Clerks of the Basoche in red coats we see marching, now Volunteers of the Basoche ; the Volunteers of the Palais Royal : — National Volunteers, numerable by tens of thousands ; of one heart and mind. The King's muskets are the Nation's ; think, old M. de Sombreuil, how, in this extremity, thou wilt refuse them! Old M. de Sombreuil would fain hold parley, send couriers ; but it skills not : the walls are scaled, no Invalide firing a shot ; the gates must be flung open. Patriot- ism rushes in, tumultuous, from grunsel up to ridge-tile, through all rooms and passages; rummaging distractedly for arms. What cellar, or what cranny can escape it? The arms are found ; all safe there ; lying packed in straw, — apparently with a view to being burnt ! More ravenous than famishing lions over dead prey, the multitude, with clangor and vocifera- tion, pounces on them; struggling, dashing, clutching: — to the jamming-up, to the pressure, fracture and probable extinction of the weaker Patriot.^ And so, with such protracted crash of deafening, most discordant Orchestra-music, the Scene is changed ; and eight-and-twenty thousand sufficient firelocks are on the shoulders of as many National Guards, lifted thereby out of darkness into fiery light. Let Besenval look at the glitter of these muskets, as they d Besenval, iii. 414. e Tableaux dc la Revolution, Prise de la Bastille (a folio Collection of Pictures and Portraits, with letter-press, not always uninstructive. — part of it said to be by Chamfort). f Deux Amis, i. 302. July 14th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 163 flash by ! Gardes Frangaises, it is said, have cannon levelled on him ; ready to open, if need v^ere, from the other side of the River.^ Motionless sits he ; " astonished," one may flatter one- self, " at the proud bearing (i^crc contcnance) of the Pari- sians." — And now, to the Bastille, ye intrepid Parisians ! There grapeshot still threatens: thither all men's thoughts and steps are now tending. Old De Launay, as we hinted, withdrew " into his interior " soon after midnight of Sunday. He remains there ever since, hampered, as all military gentlemen now are, in the saddest con- flict of uncertainties. The H6tel-de-Ville " invites him to ad- mit National Soldiers, which is a soft name for surrendering. On the otlier hand. His Majesty's orders were precise. His garrison is but eighty-two old Invalides, reinforced by thirty- two young Swass ; his walls indeed are nine feet thick, he has cannon and powder; but, alas, only one day's provision of victuals. The city too is French, the poor garrison mostly French. Rigorous old De Launay, think what thou wilt do ! ^ All morning, since nine, there has been a cry everywhere: To the Bastille ! Repeated " deputations of citizens " have been here, passionate for arms ; whom De Launay has got dismissed by soft speeches through portholes. Towards noon. Elector Thuriot de la Rosiere gains admittance ; finds De Launay in- disposed for surrender ; nay disposed for blowing up the place rather. Thuriot mounts with him to the battlements : heaps of paving-stones, old iron and missiles lie piled ; cannon all duly levelled; in every embrasure a cannon, — only drawn back a little ! But outwards, behold, O Thuriot, how the multitude flows on, wclhng through every street : tocsin furiously pealing, all drums beating the gcncrale: the Suburb Saint- Antoine roll- ing hither-ward wholly, as one man! Such vision (spectral yet real) thou, O Thuriot, as from thy Mount of Vision, bcholdest in this moment : prophetic of what other Phantasmagories, and loud-gibbering Spectral Realities, which thou yet beholdest not, but shalt! "Que vottlea-voitsf" said De Launay, turning pale at the sight, with an air of reproach, almost of menace. " Mon- sieur," said Thuriot, rising into the moral-sublime, " what mean yoiif Consider if I could not precipitate bofh of us from this height," — say only a hundred feet, exclusive of the walled ditch ! Whereupon De Launay fell silent. Thuriot shows himself g Besenval, iii. 416. i64 CARLYLE [1789 from some pinnacle, to comfort the multitude becoming sus- picious, fremescent : then descends ; departs with protest ; with warning addressed also to the Invalides, — on whom, however, it produces but a mixed indistinct impression. The old heads are none of the clearest ; besides, it is said, De Launay has been profuse of beverages (prodigua des buissons). They think, they will not fire, — if not fired on, if they can help it ; but must, on the whole, be ruled considerably by circumstances. Woe to thee, De Launay, in such an hour, if thou canst not, taking some one firm decision, rule circumstances ! Soft speeches will not serve ; hard grapeshot is questionable ; but hovering between the two is unquestionable. Ever wilder swells the tide of men ; their infinite hum waxing ever louder, into imprecations, perhaps into crackle of stray musketry, — which latter, on the walls nine feet thick, cannot do execution. The Outer Drawbridge has been lowered for Thuriot ; new deputation of citizens (it is the third, and noisiest of all) pene- trates that way into the Outer Court ; soft speeches producing no clearance of these, De Launay gives fire ; pulls up his Draw- bridge. A slight sputter ; — which has kindled the too com- bustible chaos ; made it a roaring fire-chaos ! Bursts forth Insurrection, at sight of its own blood (for there were deaths by that sputter of fire), into endless rolling explosion of musketry, distraction, execration ; — and over head, from the Fortress, let one great gun, with its grapeshot, go booming, to show what we could do. The Bastille is beseiged ! On, then, all Frenchmen, that have hearts in your bodies ! Roar with all your throats, of cartilage and metal, ye Sons of Liberty ; stir spasmodically whatsoever of utmost faculty is in you, soul, body, or spirit ; for it is the hour ! Smite, thou Louis Tournay, cartwright of the Marais, old-soldier of the Regiment Dauphine ; smite at that Outer Drawbridge chain, though the fiery hail whistles round thee ! Never, over nave or felloe, did thy axe strike such a stroke. Down with it, man ; down with it to Orcus: let the whole accursed Edifice sink thither, and Tyranny be swallowed up forever ! Mounted, some say, on the roof of the guard-room, some " on bayonets stuck into joints of the wall," Louis Tournay smites, brave Aubin Bonnemere (also an old soldier) seconding him: the chain yields, breaks; the huge Drawbridge slams down, thundering {avec fracas). Glorious ; and yet, alas, it is still but the outworks. The Eight July 14th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 165 grim Towers, with their InvaHde musketry, their paving-stones and cannon-mouths, still soar aloft intact ; — Ditch yawning im- passable, stone-faced ; the inner Drawbridge with its back to- wards us : the Bastille is still to take ! To describe this Siege of the Bastille (thought to be one of the most important in History) perhaps transcends the talent of mortals. Could one but, after infinite reading, get to under- stand so much as the plan of the building ! But there is open Esplanade, at the end of the Rue Saint-Antoine ; there are such Forecourts, Cour Avance, Cour de I'Orme, arched Gateway (where Louis Tournay now fights) ; then new drawbridges, dormant-bridges, rampant-bastions, and the grim Eight Towers : a labyrinthic Mass, high-frowning there, of all ages from twenty years to four hundred and twenty ; — beleaguered, in this its last hour, as we said, by mere Chaos come again! Ordnance of all calibres ; throats of all capacities ; men of all plans, every man his own engineer: seldom since the war of Pygmies and Cranes was there seen so anomalous a thing. Half-pay Elie is home for a suit of regimentals ; no one would heed him in colored clothes : half-pay Hulin is haranguing Gardes Franqaises in the Place de Greve. Frantic Patriots pick up the grapeshots; bear them, still hot (or seemingly so), to the H6tel-de-Ville : — Paris, you perceive, is to be burnt ! Flesselles is '' pale to the very lips ; " for the roar of the multi- tude grows deep. Paris wholly has got to the acme of its frenzy ; whirled, all ways, by panic madness. At every street- barricade, there whirls simmering a minor whirlpool, — strengthening the barricade, since God knows what is coming ; and all minor whirlpools play distractedly into that grand Fire- Mahlstrom which is lashing round the Bastille. And so it lashes and it roars. Cholat the wine-merchant has become an impromptu cannoneer. See Georget, of the Marine Service, fresh from Brest, ply the King of Siam's cannon. Singular (if we were not used to the like) : Georget lay, last night, taking his ease at his inn ; the King of Siam's cannon also lay, knowing nothing of him, for a hundred years. Yet now, at the right instant, they have got together, and discourse eloquent music. For, hearing what was toward, Georget sprang from the Brest diligence, and ran. Gardes Franqaises also will be here, with real artillery: were not the walls so thick ! — Upwards from the Esplanade, horizon- 1 66 CARLYLE [1789 tally from all neighboring roofs and windows, flashes one ir- regular deluge of musketry, without effect. The Invalides lie flat, firing comparatively at their ease from behind stone; hardly through portholes show the tip of a nose. We fall, shot ; and make no impression. Let conflagration rage; of whatsoever is combustible? Guard-rooms are burnt, Invalides m'ess-rooms. A distracted " Pefukemaker with two fiery torches " is for burning " the saltpetres of the Arsenal ; " — had not a woman run scream- ing ; had not a Patriot, with some tincture of Natural Philoso- phy, instantly struck the wind out of him (butt of musket on pit of stomach), overturned barrels, and stayed the de- vouring element. A young beautiful lady, seized escaping in these Outer Courts, and thought falsely to be De Launay's daughter shall be burnt in De Launay's sight ; she lies swooned on a paillasse: but again a Patriot, it is brave Aubin Bonne- mere the old soldier, dashes in, and rescues her. Straw is burnt; three cartloads of it, hauled thither, go up in white smoke: almost to the choking of Patriotism itself; so that Elie had, with singed brows, to drag back one cart ; and Reole the " gigantic haberdasher " another. Smoke as of Tophet ; confusion as of Babel ; noise as of the Crack of Doom ! Blood flows ; the aliment of new madness. The wounded are carried into houses of the Rue Cerisaie ; the dying leave their last mandate not to yield till the accursed Stronghold fall. And yet, alas, how fall ? The walls are so thick ! Deputa- tions, three in number, arrive from the H6tel-de-Ville ; Abbe Fauchet (who was of one) can say, with what almost super- _i human courage of benevolence.^ These wave their Town-flag in the arched Gateway ; and stand, rolling their drum ; but to no purpose. In such Crack of Doom, De Launay cannot hear them, dare not believe them: they return, with justified fage, the whew of lead still singing in their ears. What to do? The Firemen are here, squirting with their fire-pumps on the Invalides cannon, to wet the touchholes ; they unfor- tunately cannot squirt so high ; but produce only clouds of spray. Individuals of classical knowledge propose catapults. \./ Santerre, the sonorous Brewer of the Suburb Saint-Antoine, advises rather that the place be fired, by a " mixture of phos- o Fauchet's Narrative (Deux Amis, i. 324). Jalyuth] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 167 phorus and oil-of-turpentine spouted up through forcing- pumps:" O Spinola Santerre, hast thou the mixture ready? Every man his own engineer ! And still the fire-deluge abates not : even women are firing, and Turks ; at least one woman (with her sweetheart), and one Turk.^ Gardes Fran(;aises have come : real cannon, real cannoneers. Usher Maillard is busy ; half-pay Elie, half-pay Hulin rage in the midst of thou- sands. How the great Bastille Clock ticks (inaudible) in its Inner Court there, at its ease, hour after hour ; as if nothing special, for it or the world, were passing ! It tolled One when the firing began ; and is now pointing towards Five, and still the firing slakes not. — Far down, in their vaults, the seven Prisoners hear muffled din as of earthquakes ; their Turnkeys answer vaguely. Woe to thee, De Launay, with thy poor hundred Invalides ! Broglie is distant, and his ears heavy : Besenval hears, but can send no help. One poor troop of Hussars has crept, recon- noitring, cautiously along the Quais, as far as the Pont Neuf. " We are come to join you," said the Captain; for the crowd seems shoreless. A large-headed dwarfish individual, of smoke-bleared aspect, shambles forward, opening his blue lips, for there is sense in him ; and croaks : " Alight then, and give up your arms ! " The Hussar-Captain is too happy to be escorted to the Barriers, and dismissed on parole. Who the squat individual was? Men answer. It is M. Marat, author of the excellent pacific Avis an Pcuple! Great truly, O thou remarkable Dogleech, is this thy day of emergence and new- birth : and yet this same day come four years — ! — But let the curtains of the Future hang. What shall De Launay do? One thing only De Launay could have done: what he said he would do. Fancy him sitting, from the first, with lighted taper, within arm's-length of the Powder-Magazine ; motionless, like old Roman Senator, or Bronze Lamp-holder ; coldly apprising Thuriot, and all men, by a slight motion of his eye, what his resolution was: — Harmless he sat there, while unharmed ; but the King's Fortress, meanwhile, could, might, would, or should in no- wise be surrendered, save to the King's Messenger: one old man's life is worthless, so it be lost with honor ; but think, b Deux Amis, i. 319; Dusaulx, &c. 1 68 CARLYLE [1789 ye brawling canaille, how it will be when a whole Bastille springs skyward ! — In such statuesque, taper-holding attitude, one fancies De Launay might have left Thuriot, the red Clerks of the Basoche, Cure of Saint-Stephen and all the tag- rag-and-bobtail of the world, to work their will. And yet, withal, he could not do it. Hast thou considered how each man's heart is so tremulously responsive to the hearts of all men ; hast thou noted how omnipotent is the very sound of many men? How their shriek of indignation palsies the strong soul ; their howl of contumely withers with unfelt pangs? The Ritter Gluck confessed that the ground- tone of the noblest passage, in one of his noblest Operas, was the voice of the Populace he had heard at Vienna, crying to their Kaiser : Bread ! Bread ! Great is the combined voice of men ; the utterance of their instincts, which are truer than their thoughts: it is the greatest a man encounters, among the sounds and shadows which make up this World of Time. He who can resist that, has his footing somewhere beyond Time. De Launay could not do it. Distracted, he hovers between two; hopes in the middle of despair; surrenders not his Fortress ; declares that he will blow it up, seizes torches to blow it up, and does not blow it. Unhappy old De Launay, it is the death-agony of thy Bastille and thee ! Jail, Jailoring and Jailor, all three, such as they may have been, must finish. For four hours now has the World-Bedlam roared : call it the World-Chima^ra, blowing fire ! The poor Invalides have sunk under their battlements, or rise only with reversed mus- kets : they have made a white flag of napkins ; go beating the chamade, or seeming to beat, for one can hear nothing. The very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of firing; disheart- ened in the fire-deluge: a porthole at the drawbridge is opened, as by one that would speak. See Huissier Maillard, the shifty man ! On this plank, swinging over the abyss of that stone Ditch ; plank resting on parapet, balanced by weight of Patriots, — he hovers perilous : such a Dove to- wards such an Ark! Deftly thou shifty Usher: one man already fell ; and lies smashed, far down there, against the masonry! Usher Maillard falls not; deftly, unerring he walks, with outspread palm. The Swiss holds a paper through his porthole; the shifty Usher snatches it, and returns. Terms of surrender : Pardon, immunity to all ! Are they accepted ? July 14th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 169 — " Foi d'ofRcier, On the word of an officer," answers half- pay Huhn, — or half-pay Elie, for men do not agree on it, — • " they are ! " Sinks the drawbridge, — Usher Maillard bolt- ing it when down ; rushes-in the living deluge : the Bastille is fallen! Victoire! La Bastille est prise '.a Chapter VII.— Not a Revolt. Why dwell on what follows? Hulin's foi d'oMcier should have been kept, but could not. The Swiss stand drawn up, disguised in white canvas smocks ; the Invalides without dis- guise ; their arms all piled against the wall. The first rush of victors, in ecstasy that the death-peril is passed, " leaps joyfully on their necks;" but new victors rush, and ever new, also in ecstasy not wholly of joy. As we said, it was a living deluge, plunging headlong: had not the Gardes Frangaises, in their cool military way, " wheeled round with arms levelled," it would have plunged suicidally, by the hundred or the thou- sand, into the Bastille-ditch. And so it goes plunging through court and corridor ; bil- lowing uncontrollable, firing from windows — on itself ; in hot frenzy of triumph, of grief and vengeance for its slain. The poor Invalides will fare ill ; one Swiss, running off in his white smock, is driven back, with a death-thrust. Let all Prisoners be marched to the Townhall, to be judged ! — Alas, already one poor Invalide has his right hand slashed off him ; his maimed body dragged to the Place de Greve and hanged there. This same right hand, it is said, turned back De Launay from the Powder-Magazine, and saved Paris. De Launay, " discovered in gray frock with poppy-colored riband," is for killing himself with the sword of his cane. He shall to the H6tel-de-Ville ; Hulin, Maillard and others escorting him ; Elie marching foremost " with the capitulation- paper on his sword's point." Through roarings and cursings ; through bustlings, clutchings, and at last through strokes ! Your escort is hustled aside, felled down ; Hulin sinks ex- I hausted on a heap of stones. Miserable De Launay ! He shall never enter the H6tcl-dc-Ville : only his "bloody hair- a Histoirc dc la Revolution, par Deux Amis dc la Libertc, i. 267-,io6; Bcscnval, iii. 410-434; Dnsaiilx, Prise de la Bastille, 201-301; Baiily, Mcinoircs {Collection dc Bcrvillc et Barricre), i. 322 et scqq. 170 CARLYLE [r789 queue, held up in a bloody hand ;" that shall enter, for a sign. The bleeding trunk lies on the steps there; the head is off through the streets; ghastly, aloft on a pike. Rigorous De Launay has died; crying out, " O friends, kill me fast!" Merciful De Losnie must die; though Grati- tude embraces him, in this fearful hour, and will die for him; it avails not. Brothers, your wrath is cruel! Your Place de Greve is become a Throat of the Tiger; full of mere fierce bellowings, and thirst of blood. One other officer is massacred ; one other Invalide is hanged on the Lamp-iron; with diffi- culty, with generous perseverance, the Gardes Franqaises will save the rest. Provost Flesselles, stricken long since with the paleness of death, must descend from his seat, " to be judged at the Palais Royal:" — alas, to be shot dead, by an unknown hand, at the turning of the first street ! — O evening sun of July, how, at this hour, thy beams fall slant on reapers amid peaceful woody fields ; on old women spinning in cottages ; on ships far out in the silent main ; on Balls at the Orangerie of Versailles, where high-rouged Dames of the Palace are even now dancing with double- jacketed Hussar-Officers; — and also on this roaring Hell- porch of a H6tel-de-Ville ! Babel Tower, with the confusion of tongues, were not Bedlam added with the conflagration of thoughts, was no type of it. One forest of distracted steel- bristles, endless, in front of an Electoral Committee; points itself, in horrid radii, against this and the other accused breast. It was the Titans warring with Olympus ; and they, scarcely crediting it, have conquered: prodigy of prodigies; delirious, — as it could not but be. Denunciation, vengeance ; blaze of triumph on a dark ground of terror; all outward, all inward things fallen into one general wreck of madness ! Electoral Committee? Had it a thousand throats of brass, it would not suffice. Abbe Lefevre, in the Vaults down below, is black as Vulcan, distributing that " five thousand-weight of Powder;" with what perils, these eight-and-forty hours! Last night, a Patriot, in liquor, insisted on sitting to smoke on the edge of one of the Powder-barrels: there smoked he, independent of the world, — till the Abbe " purchased his pipe for three francs," and pitched it far. Elie, in the grand Hall, Electoral Committee looking on, sits " with drawn sword bent in three places ; " with battered July 1 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 171 helm, for he was of the Queen's Regiment, Cavalry ; with torn regimentals, face singed and soiled; comparable, some think, to "an antique warrior;" — judging the people; form- ing a list of Bastille Heroes. O Friends, stain not with blood the greenest laurels ever gained in this world. Such is the burden of Elie's song: could it but be listened to. Courage, Elie ! Courage, ye Municipal Electors ! A declining sun ; the need of victuals, and of telling news, will bring assuage- ment, dispersion: all earthly things must end. |~ Along the streets of Paris circulate Seven Bastille Pris- /*■' ; oners, borne shoulder-high ; seven Heads on pikes ; the Keys - of the Bastille ; and much else. See also the Gardes Fran- gaises, in their steadfast military way, marching home to their barracks, with the Invalides and Swiss kindly enclosed in hol- low square. It is one year and two months since these same men stood unparticipating, with Brennus d'Agoust at the Palais de Justice, w^hen Fate overtook D'Espremenil ; and now they have participated ; and will participate. Not Gardes Franqaises henceforth, but Centre Grenadiers of the National Guard: men of iron discipline and humor, — not without a kind of thought in them ! Likewise ashlar stones of the Bastille continue thundering through the dusk ; its paper archives shall fly white. Old secrets come to view ; and long-buried Despair finds voice. Read this portion of an old Letter :« " If for my consolation Monseigneur would grant me, for the sake of God and the Most Blessed Trinity, that I could have news of my dear wife ; were it only her name on a card, to show that she is alive! It were the greatest consolation I could receive ; and I should forever bless the greatness of Monseigneur." Poor Prisoner, who namest thyself Qncret-Danery, and hast no other history, — she is dead, that dear wife of thine, and thou art dead ! 'Tis fifty years since thy breaking heart put this question ; to be heard now first, and long heard, in the hearts of men. But so does the July twilight thicken ; so must Paris, as sick children, and all distracted creatures do, brawl itself finally into a kind of sleep. Municipal Electors, astonished to find their heads still uppermost, arc home : only ]\Iorcau de Saint-Mery, of tropical birth and heart, of coolest judgment; a Dated a la Bastille, 7 Octohrc 1752: sii^iird Qiu'i-t't-OriiuTy. Bcistillc DevoiUc; in Linguct, Manoircs siir la Ihislillc (Paris, i8ji), p. 199. 172 CARLYLE [1789 he, with two others, shall sit permanent at the Townhall. Paris sleeps ; gleams upward the illuminated City : patrols go clashing, without common watchword ; there go rumors ; alarms of war, to the extent of " fifteen thousand men march- ing through the Suburb Saint-Antoine," — who never got it marched through. Of the day's distraction judge by this of the night : Moreau de Saint-Mery, " before rising from his seat, gave upwards of three thousand orders. "^ What a head ; comparable to Friar Bacon's Brass Head ! Within it lies all Paris. Prompt must the answer be, right or wrong; in Paris is no other Authority extant. Seriously, a most cool clear head ; — for which also thou, O brave Saint-Mery, in many capacities, from august Senator to Merchant's Clerk, Book- dealer, Vice-King ; in many places, from Virginia to Sardinia, shalt, ever as a brave man, find employment.^ Besenval has decamped, under cloud of dusk, " amid a great efifluence of people," who did not harm him ; he marches, with faint-growing tread, down the left bank of the Seine, all night, — towards infinite space. Re-summoned shall Besen- val himself be ; for trial, for difftcult acquittal. His King's- troops, his Royal-Allemand, are gone hence forever. The Versailles Ball and lemonade is done ; the Orangerie is silent except for nightbirds. Over in the Salle des Menus Vice-President Lafayette, with unsnuffed lights, " with some Hundred or so of Members, stretched on tables round him," sits erect ; outwatching the Bear. This day, a second solemn Deputation went to his Majesty; a second, and then a third: with no efifect. What will the end of these things be? In the Court, all is mystery, not without whisperings of terror; though ye dream of lemonade and epaulettes, ye foolish women ! His Majesty, kept in happy ignorance, per- haps dreams of double-barrels and the Woods of Meudon. Late at night, the Duke de Liancourt, having ofificial right of entrance, gains access to the Royal Apartments, unfolds, with earnest clearness, in his constitutional way, the Job's-news. " Mais," said poor Louis, " c'cst une rcvolte, Why, that is a revolt ! " — Sire," answered Liancourt, " it is not a revolt, — it is a revolution." h Dusaulx. c Biographic Universelle, § Moreau Saint-Mery (by Fournier-Pescay). Julyisth] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 173 Chapter VIII. — Conquering Your King. On the morrow a fourth Deputation to the Chateau is on foot : of a more solemn, not to say awful character ; for, be- sides " orgies in the Orangerie," it seems " the grain-convoys are all stopped ;" nor has Mirabeau's thunder been silent. Such Deputation is on the point of setting out, — when lo, his Majesty himself, attended only by his two Brothers, steps in; quite in the paternal manner ; announces that the troops, and all causes of offence, are gone, and henceforth there shall be nothing but trust, reconcilement, goodwill ; whereof he " per- mits, and even requests," a National Assembly to assure Paris in his name. Acclamation, as of men suddenly delivered from death, gives answer. The whole Assembly spontaneously rises to escort his Majesty back ; " interlacing their arms to keep- off the excessive pressure from him ;" for all Versailles is crowding and shouting. The Chateau Musicians, with a felici- tous promptitude, strike up the Sein de sa Famille (Bosom of one's Family) : the Queen appears at the Balcony with her little boy and girl, " kissing them several times ;" infinite Vivats spread far and wide, — and suddenly there has come, as it were, a new Heaven-on-Earth. Eighty-eight august Senators, Bailly, Lafayette and our repentant Archbishop among them, take coach for Paris, with the great intelligence ; benedictions without end on their heads. From the Place Louis Quinze, where they alight, all the way to the H6tel-de-Ville, it is one sea of Tricolor cock- ades, of clear National muskets ; one tempest of huzzaings, hand-clappings, aided by " occasional rollings " of drum-music. Harangues of due fervor are delivered ; especially by Lally Tollendal, pious son of the ill-fated murdered Lally ; on \vhose head, in consequence, a civic crown (of oak or parsley) is forced, — which he forcibly transfers to Bailly's. ' But surely, for one thing, the National Guard should have a General ! Moreau de Saint-Mery, he of the " three thou- sand orders," casts one of his significant glances on the Bust of Lafayette, which has stood there ever since the American War of Liberty. Whereupon, by acclamation. Lafayette is nominated. Again, in room of the slain traitor or quasi- traitor Flesselles, President Bailly shall be — Provost of the 174 CARLYLE [1789 Merchants? No: Mayor of Paris! So be it. Maire de Paris! Mayor Bailly, General Lafayette: Vive Bailly, vive Lafayette! the universal out-of-doors multitude rends the welkin in confirmation. — And now, finally, let us to Notre- Dame for a Te Daim. Towards Notre-Dame Cathedral, in glad procession, these Regenerators of the Country walk, through a jubilant people; in fraternal manner ; Abbe Lefevre, still black with his gun- powder services, walking arm in arm with the white-stoled Archbishop. Poor Bailly comes upon the Foundling Children, sent to kneel to him; and "weeps." Te Dcuin, our Arch- bishop officiating, is not only sung, but shot, — with blank cartridges. Our joy is boundless, as our woe threatened to be. Paris, by her own pike and musket, and the valor of her own heart, has conquered the very war-gods, — to the satis- faction now of Majesty itself. A courier is, this night, getting under way for Necker : the People's Minister, invited back by King, by National Assembly, and Nation, shall traverse France amid shoutings, and the sound of trumpet and timbrel. Seeing which course of things, Messeigneurs of the Court Triumvirate, Messieurs of the dead-born Broglie Ministry, and others such, consider that their part also is clear: to mount and ride. Ofif, ye too-royal Broglies, Polignacs and Princes of the Blood; ofif while it is yet time! Did not the Palais Royal, in its late nocturnal " violent motions," set a specific price (place of payment not mentioned) on each of your heads? — With precautions, with the aid of pieces of cannon and regiments that can be depended on, Messeigneurs, between the 1 6th night and 17th morning, get to their several roads. Not without risk! Prince Conde has (or seems to have) "men galloping at full speed:" with a view, it is thought, to fling him into the river Oise, at Pont-Sainte-Mayence.a The Polignacs travel disguised : friends, not servants, on their coach-box. Broglie has his own difficulties at Versailles, runs his own risks at Metz and Verdun ; does nevertheless get safe to Luxemburg, and there rests. This is what they call the First Emigration ; determined on, as appears, in full Court-conclave; his Majesty assisting; prompt he, for his share of it, to follow any counsel whatso- ever. " Three Sons of France, and four Princes of the blood o Weber, ii. 126. V Julyi7th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 175 of St. Louis," says Weber, " could not more effectually humble the Burghers of Paris than by appearing to withdraw in fear of their life." Alas, the Burghers of Paris bear it with unex- pected stoicism ! The Man D'Artois indeed is gone ; but has he carried, for example, the Land D'Artois with him? Not even Bagatelle the Country-house (which shall be useful as a Tavern) ; hardly the four- valet Breeches, leaving the Breeches- maker'! — As for old Foulon, one learns that he is dead; at least " a sumptuous funeral " is going on ; the undertakers honoring him, if no other will. Intendant Berthier, his son- in-law, is still living ; lurking : he joined Besenval, on that Eumenides Sunday; appearing to treat it with levity; and is now fled no man knows whither. The Emigration is not gone many miles. Prince Conde hardly across the Oise, when his Majesty, according to ar- rangement, for the Emigration also thought it might do good, — undertakes a rather daring enterprise : that of visiting Paris in person. With a Hundred Members of Assembly; with^ small or no military escort, which indeed he dismissed at ■ the Bridge of Sevres, poor Louis sets out ; leaving a desolate Palace; a Queen weeping, the Present, the Past and the. Future all so unfriendly for her. At the Barrier of Passy, Mayor Bailly, in grand gala, pre- sents him with the keys ; harangues him, in Academic style ; mentions that it is a great day ; that in Henri Quatre's case, the King had to make conquest of his People ; but in this happier case, the People makes conquest of its King (o con- quis son Roi). The King, so happily conquered, drives for- ward, slowly, through a steel people, all silent, or shouting only Vive la Nation; is harangued at the Townhall by Moreau of the three thousand orders, by King's Procureur M. Ethys de Corny, by Lally Tollendal, and others ; knows not what to think of it or say of it ; learns that he is " Restorer of French Liberty," — as a Statue of him, to be raised on the site of the Bastille, shall testify to all men. Finally, he is shown at the Balcony, with a Tricolor cockade in his hat ; is greeted now, with vehement acclamation, from Square and Street, from all windows and roofs : — and so drives home again amid glad mingled and, as it were, intermarried shouts, of Viz'c Ic Roi and Vii'C la Nation; wearied but safe. It was Sunday when the red-hot balls hung over us, in 176 CARLYLE [1789 mid air: it is now but Friday, and "the Revolution is sanc- tioned." An august National Assembly shall make the Con- stitution ; and neither foreign Pandour, domestic Triumvirate, with levelled Cannon, Guy-Faux powder-plots (for that too was spoken of) ; nor any tyrannic Power on the Earth or under the Earth, shall say to it. What dost thou? — So jubi- lates the People ; sure now of a Constitution. Cracked Mar- quis Saint-Huruge is heard under the windows of the Cha- teau; murmuring sheer speculative-treason.c Chapter IX. — The Lanterne. The Fall of the Bastille may be said to have shaken all France to the deepest foundations of its existence. The rumor of these wonders flies everywhere : with the natural speed of Rumor ; with an effect thought to be preternatural, produced by plots. Did D'Orleans or Laclos, nay did Mirabeau (not overburdened with money at this time) send riding Couriers out from Paris ; to gallop " on all radii," or highways, to- wards all points of France? It is a miracle, which no pene- trating man will call in question. c? Already in most Towns, Electoral Committees were met ; to regret Necker, in harangue and resolution. In many a Town, as Rennes, Caen, Lyons, an ebullient people was already regretting him in brickbats and musketry. But now, at every Town's-end in France, there do arrive, in these days of terror, — " men," as men will arrive ; nay " men on horseback," since Rumor oftenest travels riding. These men declare, with alarmed countenance. The Brigands to be coming, to be just at hand ; and do then — ride on, about their further business, be what it might! Whereupon the whole population of such Town defensively flies to arms. Petition is soon thereafter forwarded to National Assembly ; in such peril and terror of peril, leave to organize yourself cannot be withheld: the armed population becomes everywhere an enrolled National Guard. Thus rides Rumor, careering along all radii, from Paris outwards, to such purpose : in few days, some say in not many hours, all France to the utmost borders bristles with bayonets. Singular, but undeniable, — miraculous or not ! — c Campan, ii. 46-64. d Toulongeon, i. 95 ; Weber, &c. &c. July22d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 177 But thus may any chemical liquid, though cooled to the freez- ing-point, or far lower, still continue liquid ; and then, on the slightest stroke or shake, it at once rushes wholly into ice. Thus has France, for long months and even years, been chemi- cally dealt with ; brought below zero ; and now, shaken by the Fall of a Bastille, it instantaneously congeals: into one crystallized mass, of sharp-cutting steel ! Guai a chi la tocca, 'Ware who touches it! In Paris, an Electoral Committee, with a new Mayor and General, is urgent with belligerent workmen to resume their handicrafts. Strong Dames of the Market {Dames de la Halle) deliver congratulatory harangues ; present " bouquets to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve." Unenrolled men deposit their arms, — not so readily as could be wished : and receive " nine francs." With Te Deiims, Royal Visits, and sanctioned Revo- lution, there is halcyon weather; weather even of preter- natural brightness; the hurricane being overblown. Nevertheless, as is natural, the waves still run high, hol- low rocks retaining their murmur. We are but at the 22d of the month, hardly above a week since the Bastille fell, when it suddenly appears that old Foulon is alive; nay, that he is here, in early morning, in the streets of Paris : the extortioner, the plotter, who would make the people eat grass, and was a liar from the beginning! — It is even so. The decep- tive " sumptuous funeral " (of some domestic that died) ; the hiding-place at Vitry towards Fontainebleau, have not availed that wretched old man. Some living domestic or dependent, for none loves Foulon, has betrayed him to the Village. Merci- less boors of Vitry unearth him ; pounce on him, like hell- hounds: Westward, old Infamy; to Paris, to be judged at the H6tel-de-Ville ! His old head, which seventy-four years have bleached, is bare ; they have tied an emblematic bundle of grass on his back ; a garland of nettles and thistles is round his neck : in this manner ; led with ropes ; goaded on with curses and menaces, must he, with his old limbs, sprawl forward ; the piti- ablest, most unpitied of all old men. Sooty Saint-Antoine, and every street, musters its crowds as he passes; — the Hall of the H6tel-de-Ville, the Place de Greve itself, will scarcely hold his escort and him. Foulon must not only be judged righteously, but judged there where he stands, without any delay. Appoint seven judges, ye Vol. I. — 12 1 78 CARLYLE [1789 Municipals, or seventy-and-seven ; name them yourselves, or we will name them: but judge him!a Electoral rhetoric, elo- quence of Mayor Bailly, is wasted, for hours, explaining the beauty of the Law's delay. Delay, and still delay ! Behold, O Mayor of the People, the morning has worn itself into noon: and he is still unjudged! — Lafayette, pressingly sent for, arrives ; gives voice : This Foulon, a known man, is guilty almost beyond doubt ; but may he not have accomplices ? Ought not the truth to be cunningly pumped out of him, — in the Abbaye Prison ? It is a new light ! Sansculottism claps hands; — at which handclapping, Foulon (in his fainness, as his Destiny would have it) also claps. " See ! they understand one another ! " cries dark Sansculottism, blazing into fury of suspicion. — " Friends," said " a person in good clothes," stepping forward, "what is the use of judging this man? Has he not been judged these thirty years?" With wild "^ x, yells, Sansculottism clutches him, in its hundred hands: he J ' is whirled across the Place de Greve, to the " Lanterne," Lamp-iron which there is at the corner of the Rue de la Van- nerie; pleading bitterly for life, — to the deaf winds. Only with the third rope — for two ropes broke, and the quavering voice still pleaded — can he be so much as got hanged ! His Body is dragged through the streets; his Head goes aloft on a pike, the mouth filled with grass : amid sounds as of Tophet, from a grass-eating people. & Surely if Revenge is a " kind of Justice," it is a " wild " kind ! O mad Sansculottism, hast thou risen, in thy mad darkness, in thy soot and rags ; unexpectedly, like an En- celadus, living-buried, from under his Trinacria? They that would make grass be eaten do now eat grass, in this manner? After long dumb-groaning generations, has the turn sud- ly become thine? — To such abysmal overturns, and frightful instantaneous inversions of the centre-of-gravity, are human Solecisms all liable, if they but knew it; the more liable, the falser (and tophcavier) they are! — To add to the horror of Mayor Bailly and his Municipals, word comes that Berthier has also been arrested ; that he is on his way thither from Compiegne. Berthier, Intendant (say Tax-levier) of Paris; sycophant and tyrant; forestaller of a Hisloire Parlemcntairc, ii. 146-9. h Deux Amis de la Liberie, ii. 60-6. July22d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 179 Corn ; contriver of Camps against the people ; — accused of many things : is he not Foulon's son-in-law ; and, in that one point, guilty of all? In these hours, too, when Sanscu- lottism has its blood up! The shuddering Municipals send one of their number to escort him, with mounted National Guards. At the fall of day, the wretched Berthier, still \vearing a face of courage, arrives at the Barrier ; in an open carriage ; with the Municipal beside him ; five hundred horsemen with drawn sabres ; unarmed footmen enough : not without noise ! Placards go brandished round him ; bearing legibly his indict- ment, as Sansculottism with unlegal brevity, " in huge letters," draws it up.<^ Paris is come forth to meet him : with hand- clappings, with windows flung up ; with dances, triumph-songs, as of the Furies. Lastly, the Head of Foulon ; this also meets • him on a pike. Well might his " look become glazed," and sense fail him, at such sight ! — Nevertheless, be the man's conscience what it may, his nerves are of iron. At the Hotel- de-Ville he will answer nothing. He says he obeyed superior orders; they have his papers; they may judge and deter- mine: as for himself, not having closed an eye these two nights, he demands, before all things, to have sleep. Leaden sleep, thou miserable Berthier! Guards rise with him, in motion towards the Abbaye. At the very door of the Hotel- de-Ville, they are clutched ; flung asunder, as by a vortex of mad arms ; Berthier whirls towards the Lanterne. He snatches a musket ; fells and strikes, defending himself like a mad , lion : he is borne down, trampled, hanged, mangled : his Head too, and even his Heart, flics over the City on a pike. Horrible, in Lands that had known equal justice! Not so unnatural in Lands that had never known it. " Lc sang qui coide, est-il done si pur?" asks Barnave ; intimating that the Gallows, though by irregular methods, has its own, — Thou thy- self, O Reader, when thou turnest that corner of the Rue de la Vannerie, and discerncst still that same grim Bracket of old Iron, wilt not want for reflections. " Over a grocer's shop," or otherwise ; with " a bust of Louis XIV in the niche c" II a vote lc Rot ct la France (He robbed tbc King and France)." " He devoured tbe substance of the People." " He was tbc slave of tbc rich, and tbe tyrant of tbe poor." " He drank tbe blood of tbe \vi sitting on M. le President's right hand, or on his left: the Cote Droit conservative; the Cote Gauche destructive. Intermediate is Anglomaniac Constitutionalism, or Two-Chamber Royalism;- with its Mouniers, its Lallys, — fast verging towards nonentity. Pre-eminent, on the Right Side, pleads and perorates Cazale the Dragoon-captain, eloquent, mildly fervent; earning for himself the shadow of a name. There also blusters Barrel-Mirabeau, the Younger Mirabeau, not without wit : dusky D'Espremenil does nothing but sniff and ejaculate ; might, it is fondly thought, lay prostrate the Elder Mirabeau himself, would he but try,^ — which he does not. Last and greatest, see, for one moment, the Abbe Maury ; with his Jesuitic eyes, his impassive brass face, " image of all the cardinal sins." Indomitable, unquench- able, he fights jesuitico-rhetorically ; with toughest lungs and heart ; for Throne, especially for Altar and Tithes. So that a shrill voice exclaims once, from the Gallery : " Messieurs of the Clergy, you have to be shaved ; if you wriggle too much, you will get cut."c The Left Side is also called the D'Orleans side ; and some- ' times, derisively, the Palais Royal. And yet, so confused, real- -, imaginary seems everything, " it is doubtful," as Mirabeau said, " whether D'Orleans himself belong to that same D'Orleans party." What can be known and seen is, that his moon-visage does beam from that point of space. There likewise sits sea- green Robespierre ; throwing in his light weight, with decision, not yet with effect. A thin lean Puritan and Precisian, he would make away with formulas ; yet lives, moves and has his being wholly in formulas, of another sort. " Peuplc," such, according to Robespierre, ought to be the Royal method of promulgating Laws, " Peuple, this is the Law I have framed for thee; dost thou accept it?" — answered, from Right side, from Centre and Left, by inextinguishable laughter.^ Yet men n of insight discern that the Seagreen may by chance go far: ' '' This man," observes Mirabeau, " will do somewhat ; he be-j lieves every word he says." h Biographic UnivcrscUe, § D'Espremenil Cby Beaulieu). c Dictinnnairc dcs Honimes Marqnans, ii. 519. d Monitcur, No. 67 (in Hist. Pari.). July- August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 191 Abbe Sieyes is busy with mere Constitutional work ; where- in, unluckily, fellow-workmen are less pliable than, with one who has completed the Science of Polity, they ought to be. Courage, Sieyes, nevertheless ! Some twenty months of heroic travail, of contradiction from the stupid, and the Constitution shall be built ; the top-stone of it brought out with shouting, — say rather, the top-paper, for it is all Paper ; and thou hast done in it what the Earth or the Heaven could require, thy utmost. Note likewise this Trio ; memorable for several things ; memo- rable were it only that their history is written in an epigram: " Whatsoever these Three have in hand," it is said, "Duport thinks it, Barnave speaks it, Lameth does it.'V But royal Mirabeau ? Conspicuous among all parties, raised above and beyond them all, this man rises more and more. As we often say, he has an eye, he is a reality; while others are formulas and eye-glasses. In the Transient he will detect the Perennial ; find some firm footing even among Paper-vortexes. His fame is gone forth to all lands ; it gladdened the heart of the crabbed old Friend of Men himself before he died. The very Postillions of inns have heard of Mirabeau : when an im- patient Traveller complains that the team is insufficient, his Postillion answers, " Yes, Monsieur, the wheelers are weak ; but my mirabeau (main horse), you see, is a right one, mais mon mirabeau est excellent."f And now. Reader, thou shalt quit this noisy Discrepancy of a National Assembly; not (if thou be of humane mind) without pity. Twelve hundred brother men are there, in the centre of Twenty-five Millions; fighting so fiercely with Fate and with one another ; struggling their lives out, as most sons of Adam do, for that which profiteth not. Nay, on the whole, -^ it is admitted further to be very dull. " Dull as this day's As- ' sembly," said some one. "Why date, Ponrquoi datcr?" an-; swered Mirabeau. ^ Consider that they are Twelve Hundred ; that they not only speak, but read their speeches ; and even borrow and steal speeches to read ! With Twelve Hundred fluent speakers, and their Noah's Deluge of vociferous commonplace, silence unat- tainable may well seem the one blessing of Life. But figure Twelve Hundred pamphleteers ; droning forth perpetual pam- e See Toulongeon, i. c. 3. f Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 255. 192 CARLYLE [1789 phlets : and no man to gag them ! Neither, as in the American Congress, do the arrangements seem perfect. A Senator has not his own Desk and Newspaper here; of Tobacco (much less of Pipes) there is not the shghtest provision. Conversation itself has to be transacted in a low tone, with continual inter- ruption : only " Pencil-notes " circulate freely, " in incredible numbers, to the foot of the very tribune. "g' Such work is it, regenerating a Nation; perfecting one's Theory of Irregular Verbs ! Chapter III. — The General Overturn. Of the King's Court, for the present, there is almost nothing whatever to be said. Silent, deserted are these halls ; Royalty languishes forsaken of its war-god and all its hopes, till once ^the CEil-de-Boeuf rally again. The sceptre is departed from King Louis ; is gone over to the Sallc des Menus, to the Paris Townhall, or one knows not whither. In the July days, while- all ears were yet deafened by the crash of the Bastille, and Ministers and Princes were scattered to the four winds, it seemed as if the very Valets had grown heavy of hearing. Be- senval, also in flight towards Infinite Space, but hovering a little at Versailles, was addressing his Majesty personally for an Order about post-horses ; when, lo, " the Valet-in-waiting places himself familiarly between his Majesty and me," stretching out his rascal neck to learn what it was ! His Majesty, in sudden choler, whirled round ; made a clutch at the tongs : " I gently prevented him ; he grasped my hand in thankfulness ; and I noticed tears in his eyes."/» Poor King ; for French Kings also are men ! Louis Four- teenth himself once clutched the tongs, and even smote with them ; but then it was at Louvois, and Dame Maintenon ran up. — The Queen sits weeping in her inner apartments, sur- rounded by weak women : she is " at the height of unpopu- larity ;" universally regarded as the evil genius of France. Her friends and familiar counsellors have all fled ; and fled, surely, on the foolishest errand. The Chateau Polignac still frowns aloft, on its "bold and enormous cubical rock," amid the bloom- ing champaigns, amid the blue girdling mountains of g See Dumont (pp. 159-67) ; Arthur Young, &c. h Besenval, iii. 419. July- August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 193 Auvergne :'" but no Duke and Duchess Polignac look forth from it; they have fled, they have " met Necker at Bale ; " they shall not return. That France should see her Nobles resist the Irresistible, Inevitable, with the face of angry men, was un- happy, not unexpected ; but with the face and sense of pettish children? This was her peculiarity. They understood noth- ing ; would understand nothing. Does not, at this hour, a new Polignac, first-born of these Two, sit reflective in the Castle of i Ham ;;' in an astonishment he will never recover from ; the most , confused of existing mortals ? King Louis has his new Ministry : mere Popularities ; Old- President Pompignan ; Necker, coming back in triumph ; and other such.^' But what will it avail him? As was said, the sceptre, all but the wooden gilt sceptre, has departed elsewhither. Volition, determination is not in this man: only innocence, in- I dolence ; dependence on all persons but himself, on all circum- ; stances but the circumstances he were lord of. So troublous internally is our Versailles and its work. Beautiful, if seen from afar, resplendent like a Sun ; seen near at hand, a mere Sun's- Atmosphere, hiding darkness, confused ferment of ruin ! But over France, there goes on the indisputablest " destruc- tion of formulas ;" transaction of realities that follow therefrom. So many millions of persons, all gyved, and high strangled, with formulas ; whose Life nevertheless, at least the digestion and hunger of it, was real enough ! Heaven has at length sent an abundant harvest ; but what profits it the poor man, when Earth with her formulas interposes? Industry, in these times of in- surrection, must needs lie dormant; capital, as usual, not circu- lating, but stagnating timorously in nooks. The poor man is short of work, is therefore short of money ; nay even had he money, bread is not to be bought for it. Were it plotting of Aristocrats, plotting of D'Orleans ; were it Brigands, preter- natural terror, and the clang of Phoebus Apollo's silver bow, — enough, the markets are scarce of grain, plentiful only in tunmlt. Farmers seem lazy to thresh ; — being either " bribed ;" or need- ing no bribe, with prices ever rising, with perhaps rent itself no longer so pressing. Neither, what is singular, do municipal enactments, " That along with so many measures of wheat you shall sell so many of rye," and other the like, much mend the matter. Dragoons with drawn swords stand ranked among 1 Arthur Young, i. 165. ;" A.u. 1835. k Montgaillard, ii. 108. Vol. I. — 13 X94 CARLYLE [1789 the corn-sacks, often more dragoons than sacks.^ Meal-mobs abound ; growing into mobs of a still darker quality. Starvation has been known among the French Common- alty before this ; known and familiar. Did not we see them, in the year 1775, presenting, in sallow faces, in wretchedness and raggedness, their Petition of Grievances ; and, for answer, get- ting a brand-new Gallows forty feet high ? Hunger and Dark- , ness, through long years ! For look back on that earlier Paris Riot, when a Great Personage, worn out by debauchery, was believed to be in want of Blood-baths ; and Mothers, in worn raiment, yet with living hearts under it, " filled the public places " with their wild Rachel-cries, — stilled also by the Gal- lows. Twenty years ago, the Friend of Men (preaching to the deaf) described the Limousin Peasants as wearing a " pain- stricken (souffre-dottlcur) look," a look past complaint ; '' as if the oppression of the great were like the hail and the thunder, a thing irremediable, the ordinance of Nature.^ And now if, in some great hour, the shock of a falling Bastille should awaken you ; and it were found to be the ordinance of Art merely ; and remediable, reversible ! Or has the Reader forgotten that " flood of savages," which, in sight of the same Friend of Men, descended from the moun- tains at Mont d'Or? Lank-haired haggard faces; shapes raw- boned, in high sabots, in woollen jupes, with leather girdles studded with copper nails ! They rocked from foot to foot, and beat time with their elbows too, as the quarrel and battle, which was not long in beginning, went on ; shouting fiercely ; the lank faces distorted into similitude of a cruel laugh. For they were darkened and hardened: long had they been the prey of excise-men and tax-men ; of " clerks with the cold spurt of their pen." It was the fixed prophecy of our old Marquis, which no man would listen to, that " such Government by Blind-man's- '( bufif, stumbling along too far, would end by the General Over- turn, the Cidbnte Gcncrale! " No man would listen ; each went his thoughtless way ; — and Time and Destiny also travelled on. The Government by Blind-man's-buff, stumbling along, has reached the precipice inevitable for it. Dull Drudgery, driven on, by clerks with the cold dastard spurt of their pen, has been driven — into a Com- / Arthur Young, i. 129. &c. w Fils Adoptif, Manoircs de Mirabcau, i. 364-394. July-August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 195 munion of Drudges ! For now, moreover, there have come the strangest confused tidings ; by Paris Journals with their paper wings ; or still more portentous, where no Journals are," by rumor and conjecture : Oppression not inevitable ; a Bastille prostrate, and the Constitution fast getting ready ! Which Con- stitution, if it be something and not nothing, what can it be but bread to eat? The Traveller, " walking uphill, bridle in hand," overtakes " a poor woman ; " the image, as such commonly are, of drudgery and scarcity ; " looking sixty years of age, though she is not yet twenty-eight." They have seven children, her poor drudge and she : a farm, with one cow, which helps to make the children soup ; also one little horse, or garron. They have rents and quit-rents. Hens to pay to this Seigneur, Oat-sacks to that ; King's taxes. Statute-labor, Church-taxes, taxes enough ; — and think the times inexpressible. She has heard that some- where, in some manner, some thing is to be done for the poor : " God send it soon ; for the dues and taxes crush us down {nous ecrasent) ! "0 Fair prophecies are spoken, but they are not fulfilled. There have been Notables, Assemblages, turnings-out and comings-in. Intriguing and manoeuvring ; Parlementary eloquence and arguing, Greek meeting Greek in high places, has long gone on ; yet still bread comes not. The harvest is reaped and garnered ; yet still we have no bread. Urged by despair and by hope, I what can Drudgery do, but rise, as predicted, and produce the ', General Overturn? Fancy, then, some Five full-grown Millions of such gaunt figures, with their haggard faces {figures Mves) ; in woollen jupes, with copper-studded leather girths, and high sabots, start- ing up to ask, as in forest-roarings, their washed Upper-Classes, after long unreviewed centuries, virtually this question: How have ye treated us ; how have ye taught us, fed us and led us, while we toiled for you? The answer can be read in flames, over the nightly summer-sky. This is the feeding and leading we have had of you: Emptiness, — of pocket, of stomach, of head and of heart. Behold there is nothing in us; nothing but what nature gives her wild children of the desert : Ferocity and Appetite ; Strength grounded on Hunger. Did ye mark among n See Arthur Young, i. 137, 150, &c. Ibid., i. 134. 196 CARLYLE [1789 your Rights of Man, that man was not to die of starvation, while there was bread reaped by him? It is among the Mights of Man. Seventy-two Chateaus have flamed aloft in the Maconnais ^ and Beaujolais alone : this seems the centre of the conflagra- ' tion ; but it has spread over Dauphine, Alsace, the Lyonnais ; the whole South-East is in a blaze. All over the North, from Rouen to Metz, disorder is abroad : smugglers of salt go openly in armed bands : the barriers of towns are burnt ; toll-gatherers, tax-gatherers, official persons put to flight. " It was thought," says Young, " the people, from hunger, would revolt ; " and we see they have done it. Desperate Lackalls, long prowling aim- less, now finding hope in desperation itself, everywhere form a nucleus. They ring the Church-bell by way of tocsin : and the Parish turns out to the work./' Ferocity, atrocity ; hunger and revenge : such work as we can imagine ! Ill stands it now with the Seigneur, who, for example, " has walled-up the only Fountain of the Township ;" who has ridden high on his chartier and parchments ; who has preserved Game not wisely but too well. Churches also, and Canonries, are sacked, without mercy ; which have shorn the flock too close, forgetting to feed it. Woe to the land over which Sansculot- tism, in its day of vengeance, tramps roughshod, — shod in sabots ! Highbred Seigneurs, with their delicate women and . little ones, had to " fly half-naked," under cloud of night : glad to escape the flames, and even worse. You meet them at the tables-d'hote of inns ; making wise reflections or foolish, that " rank is destroyed ; " uncertain whither they shall now wend.g The metayer will find it convenient to be slack in paying rent. As for the tax-gatherer, he, long hunting as a biped of prey, may now find himself hunted as one ; his Majesty's Exchequer will not " fill up the Deficit " this season : it is the notion of many, that a Patriot Majesty, being the Restorer of French Liberty, has abolished most taxes, though, for their private ends, some men make a secret of it. Where this will end ? In the Abyss, one may prophesy ; whither all Delusions are, at all moments, traveling; where this Delusion has now arrived. For if there be a Faith, from of old, it is this, as we often repeat, that no Lie can live forever. The very Truth has to change its vesture, from time to time ; and be p Sec Hist. Pari. ii. 243-6. q See Young, i. 149, &c. July-August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 197 born again. But all Lies have sentence of death written down against them, in Heaven's Chancery itself ; and, slowly or fast, advance incessantly towards their hour. " The sign of a Grand Seigneur being landlord," says the vehement plain-spoken Arthur Young, "are wastes, landcs, deserts, ling: go to his residence, you will find it in the middle of a forest, peopled with deer, wild boars and wolves. The fields are scenes of pitiable management, as the houses are of misery. To see so many mil- lions of hands, that would be industrious, all idle and starving: O, if I were legislator of France for one day, I would make these great lords skip again ! 'V O Arthur, thou now actually beholdest them skip; — wilt thou grow to grumble at that too? For long years and generations it lasted ; but the time came. Featherbrain, whom no reasoning and no pleading could touch, the glare of the firebrand had to illuminate : there remained but that method. Consider it, look at it ! The widow is gathering nettles for her children's dinner; a perfumed Seigneur, deli- cately lounging in the CEil-de-Bceuf, has an alchemy whereby he will extract from her the third nettle, and name it Rent and Law : such an arrangement must end. Ought it not? But, O most fearful is such an ending ! Let those, to whom God, in his great mercy, has granted time and space, prepare another and milder one. To some it is a matter of wonder that the Seigneurs did not do something to help themselves ; say, combine and arm : for there were a " hundred and fifty thousand of them," all valiant enough. Unhappily, a hundred and fifty thousand, scattered over wide Provinces, divided by mutual ill-will, cannot com- bine. The highest Seigneurs, as we have seen, had already emigrated, — with a view of putting France to the blush. Neither are arms now the peculiar property of Seigneurs ; but of every mortal who has ten shillings wherewith to buy a secondhand firelock. Besides, those starving peasants, after all, have not four feet and claws, that you could keep them down permanently in that manner. They are not even of black color: they are mere Unwashed Seigneurs ; and a Seigneur too has human bowels ! — The Seigneurs did what they could ; enrolled in National Guards ; fled, with shrieks, complaining to Heaven and Earth. One Seigneur, famed Mcmmay of Quincey, near r See Young, i. 12, 48, 84, &c. 198 CARLYLE Ii7«9 Vesoul, invited all the rustics of his neighborhood to a banquet ; blew-up his Chateau and them with gunpowder; and instan- taneously vanished, no man yet knows whither.^ — Some half- dozen years after, he came back; and demonstrated that it was by accident. Nor are the Authorities idle ; though unluckily, all Authori- ties, Municipalities and suchlike, are in the uncertain transi- tionary state ; getting regenerated from old Monarchic to new Democratic; no Official yet knows clearly what he is. Never- theless, Mayors old or new do gather Marechaussccs, National Guards, Troops of the line ; justice, of the most summary sort, is not wanting. The Electoral Committee of Macon, though but a Committee, goes the length of hanging, for its own behoof, as many as twenty. The Prevot of Dauphine tra- verses the country " with a movable column," with tipstaves, gallows-ropes ; for gallows any tree will serve, and suspend its culprit, or " thirteen " culprits. Unhappy country! How is the fair gold-and-green of the ripe bright Year defaced with horrid blackness ; black ashes of Chateaus, black bodies of gibbeted Men! Industry has ceased in it; not sounds of the hammer and saw, but of the tocsin and alarm-drum. The sceptre has departed, zvhither one knows not ; — breaking itself in pieces : here impotent, there tyrannous. National Guards are unskilful and of doubt- ful purpose ; Soldiers arc inclined to mutiny : there is danger they they two may quarrel, danger that they may agree. Stras- burg has seen riots: a Townhall torn to shreds, its archives scattered white on the winds ; drunk soldiers embracing drunk citizens for three days, and Mayor Dietrich and Marshal Rochambeau reduced nigh to desperation.^ Through the middle of all which phenomena is seen, on his triumphant transit, " escorted," through Befort for instance, " by fifty National Horsemen and all the military music of the place," — M. Necker returning from Bale ! Glorious as the meridian ; though poor Necker himself partly guesses whither it is leading." One highest culminating day, at the Paris Townhall ; with immortal vivats, with wife and daughter s Hist. Pari. ii. 161. ^Arthur Young, i. 141. Dampmartin, Evencmcns qui se sont passes sous mcs ycux, i. 105-127. u Biographic Universcllc, § Necker (by Lally-Tollendal). V July-August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 199 kneeling publicly to kiss his hand ; with Besenval's pardon granted, — but indeed revoked before sunset: one highest day, but then lower days, and ever lower, down even to lowest! Such magic is in a name; and in the want of a name. Like some enchanted Mambrino's Helmet, essential to victory, comes this " Saviour of France ;" beshouted, becymballed by the world : alas, as soon to be rfwenchanted, to be pitched shamefully over the lists as a Barber's Basin ! Gibbon " could wish to show him " (in this ejected, Barber's-Basin state) to any man of solidity, who were minded to have the soul burnt out of him, and become a caput mortuum, by Ambition, un- successful or successful.^ Another small phasis we add, and no more: how, in the Autumn months, our sharp-tempered Arthur has been " pes- tered for some days past," by shot, lead-drops and slugs, " rattling five or six times into my chaise and about my ears ;" all the mob of the country gone out to kill Game U It is even so. On the Cliffs of Dover, over all the Marches of France, there appear, this autumn, two signs on the Earth: emigrant flights of French Seigneurs ; emigrant winged flights of French Game ! Finished, one may say, or as good as finished, is the Preservation of Game on this Earth ; completed for endless Time. What part it had to play in the History of Civilization is played: plaudite ; exeat! In this manner does Sansculottism blaze up, illustrating many things ; — producing, among the rest, as we saw, on the Fourth of August, that semi-miraculous Night of Pentecost in the National Assembly ; semi-miraculous, which had its causes, and its effect. Feudalism is struck dead ; not on parchment only, and by ink ; but in very fact, by fire ; say, by self-com- bustion. This conflagration of the South-East will abate ; will be got scattered, to the West, or elsewhither : extinguish it will not, till the fuel be all done. V Gibbon's Letters. x Young, i. 176. 260 CARLYLE [1789 Chapter IV. — In Queue. If we look now at Paris, one thing is too evident : that the Bakers' shops have got their Queues, or Tails; their long strings of purchasers, arranged in tail, so that the first come be the first served, — were the shop once open! This waiting in tail, not seen since the early days of July, again makes its appearance in August. In time, we shall see it perfected by practice to the rank almost of an art ; and the art, or quasi- art, of standing in tail become one of the characteristics of the Parisian People, distinguishing them from other Peoples whatsoever. But consider, while work itself is so scarce, how a man must not only realize money, but stand waiting (if his wife is too weak to wait and struggle) for half-days in the Tail, till he get it changed for dear bad bread ! Controversies, to the length sometimes of blood and battery, must arise in these exasperated Queues. Or if no controversy, then it is but one, accordant Paiige Lingua of complaint against the Powers that be. France has begun her long Curriculum of Hungering, instructive and productive beyond Academic Curriculums ; which extends over some seven most strenuous years. As Jean Paul says of his own life, " to a great height shall the business of Hungering go." Or consider, in strange contrast, the jubilee Ceremonies ; for, in general, the aspect of Paris presents these two features : jubilee ceremonials and scarcity of victual. Processions enough walk in jubilee; of Young Women, decked and dizened, their ribands all tricolor ; moving with song and tabor, to the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve, to thank her that the Bastille is down. The Strong Men of the Market, and the Strong Women, fail not with their bouquets and speeches. Abbe Fauchet, famed in such work (for Abbe Lcfevre could only distribute powder) blesses tricolor cloth for the National Guard ; and makes it a National Tricolor Flag ; victorious, or to be victorious, in the cause of civil and religious liberty all over the world. Fauchet, we say, is the man for Te-Denms, and public Consecrations ; — to which, as in this instance of the Flag, our National Guard will " reply with volleys of mus- ketry," Church and Cathedral though it be ;y filling Notre y See Hist. Pari, iii. 20; Mercier, Nouveau Paris, &c. August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 201 Dame with such noisiest fuliginous Amen, significant of several things. On the whole, we will say our new Mayor Bailly, our new Commander Lafayette named also " Scipio-Americanus," have bought their preferment dear. Bailly rides in gilt state-coach, with beef-eaters and sumptuosity; Camille Desmoulins, and others, sniffing at him for it : Scipio bestrides the " white charger," and waves with civic plumes in sight of all France. Neither of them, however, does it for nothing; but, in truth, at an exorbitant rate. At this rate, namely : of feeding Paris, and keeping it from fighting. Out of the City-funds, some seventeen thousand of the utterly destitute are employed digging on Montmartre, at tenpence a day, which buys them, at market price, almost two pounds of bad bread : — they look very yellow, when Lafayette goes to harangue them. The Townhall is in travail, night and day; it must bring forth Bread, a Municipal Constitution, regulations of all kinds, curbs on the Sansculottic Press; above all. Bread, Bread. Purveyors prowl the country far and wide, with the appetite of lions ; detect hidden grain, purchase open grain ; by gentle means or forcible, must and will find grain. A most thankless task ; and so difficult, so dangerous, — even if a man did gain some trifle by it! On the 19th of August, there is food for one day .■2' Complaints there are that the food is spoiled, and produces an effect on the intestines: not corn but plaster-of- paris ! Which effect on the intestines, as well as that " smart- ing in the throat and palate," a Townhall Proclamation warns you to disregard, or even to consider as drastic-beneficial. The Mayor of Saint-Denis, so black was his bread, has, by a dyspeptic populace, been hanged on the Lanterne there. National Guards protect the Paris Corn-Market: first ten suffice; then six hundred.^ Busy are ye, Bailly, Brissot de Warville, Condorcet, and ye others ! For, as just hinted, there is a Municipal Constitution to be made too. The old Bastille Electors, after some ten days of psalmodying over their glorious victory, began to hear it asked, in a splenetic tone. Who put yon there? They accord- ingly had to give place, not without moanings and audible growlings on both sides, to a new larger Body, specially elected for that post. Which new Body, augmented, altered, then s See Bailly, Mimoircs, ii. i37-409- « I^i^t, Pari ii. 421. 20 2 CARLYLE [1789 fixed finally at the number of Three Hundred, with the title of Town Representatives {Rcprcscntants dc la Commune), now sits there ; rightly portioned into Committees ; assiduous making a Constitution ; at all moments when not seeking flour. And such a Constitution ; little short of miraculous : one that shall " consolidate the Revolution " ! The Revolution is finished, then? Mayor Bailly and all respectable friends of Freedom would fain think so. Your Revolution, like jelly sufficiently boiled, needs only to be poured into shapes, of Constitution, and " consolidated " therein ? Could it, indeed, contrive to cool; which last, however, is precisely the doubt- ful thing, or even the not doubtful ! Unhappy Friends of Freedom ; consolidating a Revolution ! They must sit at work there, their pavilion spread on very Chaos ; between two hostile worlds, the Upper Court-world, the nether Sansculottic one ; and, beaten on by both, toil pain- fully, perilously, — doing, in sad literal earnest, " the impos- sible." Chapter V.— The Fourth Estate. Pamphleteering opens its abysmal throat wider and wider; never to close more. Our Philosophes, indeed, rather with- draw ; after the manner of Marmontel, " retiring in disgust the first day." Abbe Raynal, grown gray and quiet in his Marseilles domicile, is little content with this work : the last literary act of the man will again be an act of rebellion ; an indignant Letter to the Constituent Assembly; answered by " the order of the day." Thus also Philosophe Morellet puckers discontented brows ; being indeed threatened in his benefices by that Fourth of August: it is clearly going too far. How astonishing that those " haggard figures in woollen jupes " would not rest as satisfied with Speculation, and vic- torious Analysis, as we! Alas, yes: Speculation, Philosophism, once the ornament and wealth of the salon, will now coin itself into mere Prac- tical Propositions, and circulate on street and highway, uni- versally; with results! A Fourth Estate, of Able Editors, springs up; increases and multiplies; irrepressible, incal- culable. New Printers, new Journals, and ever new (so prurient is the world), let our Three Hundred curb and con- Aug.-Sepi.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 203 solidate as they can ! Loustalot, under the wing of Prudhomme dull-blustering Printer, edits weekly his Revolution de Paris; in an acrid, emphatic manner. Acrid, corrosive, as the spirit of sloes and copperas, is Marat, Friend of the People; struck already with the fact that the National Assembly, so full of Aristocrats, " can do nothing," except dissolve itself and make way for a better; that the Townhall Representatives are little other than babblers and imbeciles, if not even knaves. Poor is this man; squalid, and dwells in garrets; a man unlovely to the sense, outward and inward ; a man forbid ; — and is becoming fanatical, possessed with fixed-idea. Cruel liisus of Nature ! Did Nature, O poor Marat, as in cruel sport, knead thee out of her leavings and miscellaneous waste clay; and fling thee forth, stepdame-like, a Distraction into this distracted Eighteenth Century? Work is appointed thee there; which thou shalt do. The Three Hundred have summoned and will again summon Marat: but always he croaks- forth answer sufficient ; always he will defy them, or elude them ; and en- dure no gag. Carra, " Ex-secretary of a decapitated Hospodar," and then of a Necklace-Cardinal ; likewise Pamphleteer, Ad- venturer in many scenes and lands, — draws nigh to Mercier, of the Tableau de Paris; and, with foam on his lips, proposes an Annates Patriotiqnes. The Moniteur goes its prosperous way ; Barrere " weeps " on paper as yet loyal ; Rivarol, Royou are not idle. Deep calls to deep: your Doniine Salvum Fac Regem shall awaken Pangc Lingua; with an Ami-du-Peuple there is a King's-Friend Newspaper, Ami-du-Roi. Camille / Desmoulins has appointed himself Procureur-Gencrale de la Lanterne, Attorney-General of the Lamp-iron ; and pleads, not with atrocity, under an atrocious title ; editing weekly his brilliant Revolutions of Paris and Brabant. Brilliant, we say ; for if, in that thick murk of Journalism, with its dull bluster- ing, with its fixed or loose fury, any ray of genius greet thee, be sure it is Camille's. The thing that Camille touches, he with his light finger adorns: brightness plays, gentle, unex- pected, amid horrible confusions ; often is the word of Ca- ^ mille worth reading, when no otlicr's is. Questionable Camille, J how thou glitterest with a fallen, rebellious, yet still semi- celestial light: as is the starlight on the brow of Lucifer! Son of the Morning, into what times and what lands art thou fallen ! 204 CARLYLE [1789 But in all things there is good ; — though it be not good for " consolidating Revolutions." Thousand wagon-loads of this Pamphleteering and Newspaper matter lie rotting slowly in the Public Libraries of our Europe. Snatched from the great gulf, like oysters by bibliomaniac pearl-divers, there must they first rot, then what was pearl, in Camille or others, may be seen as such, and continue as such. Nor has public speaking declined, though Lafayette and his Patrols look sour on it. Loud always in the Palais Rayol, loudest the Cafe de Foy ; such a miscellany of Citizens and Citizenesses circulating there. " Now and then," according to Camille, " some Citizens employ the liberty of the press for a private purpose; so that this or the other Patriot finds himself short of his watch or pocket-handkerchief ! " But for the rest, in Camille's opinion, nothing can be a livelier image of the Roman Forum. " A Patriot proposes his motion ; if it finds any supporters, they make him mount on a chair, and speak. If he is applauded, he prospers and redacts ; if he is hissed, he goes his ways." Thus they, circulating and perorating. Tall shaggy Marquis Saint-Huruge, a man that has had losses, and has deserved them, is seen eminent, and also heard. " Bellowing " is the character of his voice, like that of a Bull of Bashan ; voice which drowns all voices, which causes frequently the hearts of men to leap. Cracked or half- cracked is this tall Marquis's head, uncracked are his lungs; the cracked and the uncracked shall alike avail him. Consider farther that each of the Forty-eight Districts has its own Committee ; speaking and motioning continually ; aid- ing in the search for grain, in the search for a Constitution ; checking and spurring the poor Three Hundred of the Town- hall. That Danton, with a " voice reverberating from the domes," is President of the Cordeliers District ; which has already become a Goshen of Patriotism. That apart from the " seventeen thousand utterly necessitous, digging on Mont- martre," most of whom, indeed, have got passes, and been dismissed into Space " with four shillings," — there is a strike, or union, of Domestics out of place ; who assemble for public speaking: next, a strike of Tailors, for even they will strike and speak ; farther, a strike of JcKirneymen Cordwainers ; a strike of Apothecaries: so dear is bread.t All these, having h Histoire Parlemcntairc, ii. 359, 417, 423. Aug.-Sept.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 205 struck, must speak ; generally under the open canopy ; and pass resolutions ; — Lafayette and his Patrols watching them suspiciously from the distance. Unhappy mortals : such tugging and lugging, and throttling of one another, to divide, in some not intolerable way, the joint Felicity of man in this Earth ; when the whole lot to be divided is such a " feast of shells! " — Diligent are the Three Hundred ; none equals Scipio-Americanus in dealing with mobs. But surely all these things bode ill for the con- solidating of a Revolution. BOOK SEVENTH. THE INSURRECTION OF WOMEN. Chapter I. — Patrollotism. NO, Friends, this Revolution is not of the consoHdating kind. Do not fires, fevers, sown seeds, chemical mixtures, men, events, — all embodiments of Force that work in this miraculous Complex of Forces named Uni- verse, — go on growing, through their natural phases and de- velopments, each according to its kind ; reach their height, reach their visible decline; finally sink under, vanishing, and what we call dief They all grow; there is nothing but what grows, and shoots forth into its special expansion, — once give it leave to spring. Observe too that each grows with a rapidity proportioned, in general, to the madness and unhealthiness there is in it : slow regular growth, though this also ends in death, is what we name health and sanity. A Sansculottism, which has prostrated Bastilles, which has got pike and musket, and now goes burning Chateaus, passing resolutions and haranguing under roof and sky, may be said to have sprung; and, by law of Nature, must grow. To judge by the madness and diseasedness of both itself, and of the soil and element it is in, one might expect the rapidity and_J monstrosity would be extreme. Many things, too, especially all diseased things, grow by shoots and fits. The first grand fit and shooting-forth of Sansculottism was that of Paris conquering its King; for Bailly's figure of rhetoric was ail-too sad a reality. The King is conquered; going at large on his parole; on condition, say, of absolutely good behavior, — which, in these circum- stances, will unhappily mean no behavior whatever. A quite untenable position, that of Majesty put on its good behavior! Alas, is it not natural that whatever lives try to keep itself living? Whereupon his Majesty's behavior will soon become 206 Aug. -Sept.] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 207 exceptionable ; and so the Second grand Fit of Sansculottism, that of putting him in durance, cannot be distant. Necker, in the National Assembly, is making moan, as usual, about his Deficit: Barriers and Customhouses burnt; the Tax-gatherer hunted, not hunting; his Majesty's Exchequer all but empty. The remedy is a Loan of thirty millions; then, on still more enticing terms, a Loan of eighty millions : neither of which Loans, unhappily, will the Stockjobbers venture to lend. The Stockjobber has no country, except his own black pool of Agio. And yet, in those days, for men that have a country, what a glow of patriotism burns in many a heart; penetrating in- wards to the very purse! So early as the 7th of August, a Don Patriotiqiie, " Patriotic Gift of jewels to a considerable extent," has been solemnly made by certain Parisian women; and solemnly accepted with honorable mention. Whom forth- with all the world takes to imitating and emulating. Patriotic Gifts, always with some heroic eloquence, which the Presi- dent must answer and the Assembly listen to, flow in from far and near: in such number that the honorable mention can only be performed in " lists published at stated epochs." Each gives what he can : the very cordwainers have behaved munifi- cently ; one landed proprietor gives a forest ; fashionable society gives its shoe-buckles, takes cheerfully to shoeties. Unfortunate-females give what they " have amassed in lov- ing."a The smell of all cash, as Vespasian thought, is good. Beautiful, and yet inadequate ! The Clergy must be " in- vited " to melt their superfluous Church-plate, — in the Royal Mint. Nay finally, a Patriotic Contribution, of the forcible sort, has to be determined on, though unwillingly: let the fourth part of your declared yearly revenue, for this once only, be paid down; so shall a National Assembly make the Constitution, undistracted at least by insolvency. Their own wages, as settled on the 17th of August, arc but Eighteen Francs a day, each man ; but the Public Service must have sinews, must have money. To appease the Deficit ; not to "comhler, or choke, the Deficit," if you or mortal could ! For withal, as Mirabeau was heard saying, " it is the Deficit that saves us." Towards the end of August, our National Assembly in its a Histoire Parlementaire, ii. 427. 2o8 CARLYLE [1789 constitutional labors has got so far as the question of Veto: shall Majesty have a Veto on the National Enactments ; or not have a Veto? What speeches were spoken, within doors and without ; clear, and also passionate logic ; imprecations, comminations ; gone happily, for most part, to Limbo ! Through the cracked brain and uncracked lungs of Saint- Huruge, the Palais Royal rebellows with Veto. Journalism is busy, France rings with Veto. " I never shall forget," says Dumont, " my going to Paris, one of those days, with Mirabeau ; and the crowd of people we found waiting for his carriage about Le Jay the Bookseller's shop. They flung themselves before him ; conjuring him, with tears in their eyes, not to suffer the Veto Ahsoht. They were in a frenzy: ' Monsieur le Comte, you are the People's father, you must save us ; you must defend us against those villains who are bringing back Despotism. If the King get this Veto, what is the use of National Assembly? We are slaves; all is done.' "& Friends, if the sky fall, there will be catching of larks ! Mirabeau, adds Dumont, was eminent on such occasions : he answered vaguely, with a Patrician imperturbability, and bound himself to nothing. Deputations go to the H6tel-de-Ville ; anonymous Letters to Aristocrats in the National Assembly, threatening that fifteen thousand, or sometimes that sixty thousand, " will march to illuminate you." The Paris Districts are astir; Petitions signing: Saint-Huruge sets forth from the Palais Royal with an escort of fifteen hundred individuals, to petition in person. Resolute, or seemingly so, is the tall shaggy Mar- quis, is the Cafe de Foy : but resolute also is Commandant- General Lafayette. The streets are all beset by Patrols : Saint- Huruge is stopped at the Barriere des Bons Homuies; he may bellow like the bulls of Bashan, but absolutely must return. The brethren of the Palais Royal " circulate all night," and make motions, under the open canopy; all Coffeehouses being shut. Nevertheless Lafayette and the Townhall do prevail ; Saint-Huruge is thrown into prison; Veto Ahsolu adjusts itself into Suspensive Veto, prohibition not forever, but for a term of time ; and this doom's clamor will grow silent, as the others have done. So far has consolidation prospered, though with difficulty; repressing the Nether Sansculottic world ; and the Constitu- b Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 156. Aug.-Sept] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 209 tion shall be made. With difficulty: amid jubilee and scarcity; Patriotic Gifts, Bakers'-queues ; Abbe-Fauchet Harangues, with their Amen of platoon-musketry! Scipio-Americanus has deserved thanks from the National Assembly and France. They offer him stipends and emoluments to a handsome ex- tent ; all which stipends and emoluments he, covetous of far other blessedness than mere money, does, in his chivalrous way, without scruple, refuse. ~' To the Parisian common man, meanwhile, one thing re- mains inconceivable : that now when the Bastille is down, and French Liberty restored, grain should continue so dear. Our Rights of Man are voted. Feudalism and all Tyranny abolished; yet behold we stand in queue! Is it Aristocrat forestallers ; a Court still bent on intrigues? Something is rotten somewhere. And yet, alas, what to do? Lafayette, with his Patrols, prohibits everything, even complaint. Saint-Huruge and other heroes of the Veto lie in durance. People's-Friend Marat was seized ; Printers of Patriotic Journals are fettered and forbidden ; the very Hawkers cannot cry, till they get license and leaden badges. Blue National Guards ruthlessly dissi- pate all groups ; scour, with levelled bayonets, the Palais Royal itself. Pass, on your affairs, along the Rue Taranne, the Patrol, presenting his bayonet, cries. To the left! Turn into the Rue Saint-Benoit, he cries. To the right! A judicious Patriot (like Camille Desmoulins, in this instance) is driven, for quietness' sake, to take the gutter. O much-suffering People, our glorious Revolution is evapo- rating in tricolor ceremonies and complimentary harangues! Of which latter, as Loustalot acridly calculates, " upwards of two thousand have been delivered within the last month at the Townhall alone. "f And our mouths, unfilled with bread, are to be shut, under penalties? The Caricaturist promulgates his emblematic Tablature: Le Patrouillotismc chassant le "n Patriotisme, Patriotism driven out by Patrollotism. Ruthless | <^.— Patrols ; long superfine harangues ; and scanty ill-baked loaves, more like baked Bath bricks, — which produce an effect on the intestines! Where will this end? In consolidation? c Revolutions dc Paris Newspaper (cited in Histoire Parlementaire, ii- 357). Vol. I. — 14 2IO CARLYLE [1789 Chapter II Richard, My King. For, alas, neither is the Townhall itself without misgivings. The Nether Sansculottic world has been suppressed hitherto: but then the Upper Court-world ! Symptoms there are that the CEil-de-Boeuf is rallying. More than once in the Townhall Sanhedrim, often enough from those outspoken Bakers'-queues, has the wish uttered itself: O that our Restorer of French Liberty were here; that he could see with his own eyes, not with the false eyes of Queens and Cabals, and his really good heart be enlight- ened ! For falsehood still environs him ; intriguing Dukes de Guiche, with Bodyguards ; scouts of Bouille ; a new flight of intriguers, now that the old is flown. What else means this advent of the Regiment de Flandre ; entering Versailles, as we hear, on the 23d of September, with two pieces of can- non? Did not the Versailles National Guard do duty at the Chateau ? Had they not Swiss ; Hundred Swiss ; Gardcs-du- Corps, Bodyguards so-called? Nay, it would seem, the num- ber of Bodyguards on duty has, by a manoeuvre, been doubled : / the new relieving Battalion of them arrived at its time ; but. the old relieved one does not depart! "^ Actually, there runs a whisper through the best-informed Upper-Circles, or a nod still more portentous than whispering, of his Majesty's flying to Metz; of a Bond (to stand by him therein), which has been signed by Noblesse and Clergy, to the incredible amount of thirty, or even of sixty thousand. La- fayette coldly whispers it, and coldly asseverates it, to Count d'Estaing at the Dinner-table ; and D'Estaing, one of the bravest men, quakes to the core lest some lackey overhear it ; ^ and tumbles thoughtful, without sleep, all night.c^ Regiment Ide Flandre, as we said, is clearly arrived. His Majesty, they say, hesitates about sanctioning the Fourth of August ; makes observations, of chilling tenor, on the very Rights of Man ! Likewise, may not all persons, the Bakers'-queues themselves discern, on the streets of Paris, the most astonishing number of Officers on furlough, Crosses of St. Louis, and suchlike? Some reckon "from a thousand to twelve hundred." Oflicers d Brouillon de Lcttrc de M. d'Estaing a la Reine (in Histoire Parle- vtentaire, iii. 24). October 1st] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 2II of all uniforms; nay one uniform never before seen by eye: green faced with red! The tricolor cockade is not always -^ visible : but what, in the name of Heaven, may these black cockades, which some wear, foreshadow? Hunger whets everything, especially Suspicion and Indig- nation. Realities themselves, in this Paris, have grown unreal, preternatural. Phantasms once more stalk through the brain of hungry France. O ye laggards and dastards, cry shrill voices from the Queues, if ye had the hearts of men, ye would take your pikes and secondhand firelocks, and look into it ; not leave your wives and daughters to be starved, murdered and worse ! — Peace, women ! The heart of man is bitter and heavy ; Patriotism, driven out by Patrollotism, knows not what to resolve on. The truth is, the CEil-de-Boeuf has rallied ; to a certain un- known extent. A changed CEil-de-Boeuf ; with Versailles Na- tional Guards, in their tricolor cockades, doing duty there; a Court all flaring with tricolor! Yet even to a tricolor Court men will rally. Ye loyal hearts, burnt-out Seigneurs, rally round your Queen ! With wishes ; which will produce hopes ; which will produce attempts ! For indeed self-preservation being such a law of Nature, what can a rallied Court do, but attempt and endeavor, or call it plot, — with such wisdom and unwisdom as it has? They will fly, escorted, to Metz, where brave Bouille com- mands ; they will raise the Royal Standard : the Bond-signa- tures shall become armed men. Were not the King so languid ! Their Bond, if at all signed, must be signed without his privity. — Unhappy King, he has but one resolution : not to have a civil war. For the rest, he still hunts, having ceased lock- making ; he still dozes, and digests ; is clay in the hands of the potter. Ill will it fare with him, in a world where all is helping itself; where, as has been written, " whosoever is not hammer must be stithy ;" and " the very hyssop on the wall grows there, in that chink, because the whole Universe could not prevent its growing ! " But as for the coming-up of this Regiment de Flandre, may it not be urged that there were Saint-IIuruge Petitions, and continual meal-mobs? Undel)auche(l soldiers, be there plot, or only dim elements of a plot, arc always good. Did not 212 CARLYLE [1789 the Versailles Municipality (an old Monarchic one, not yet refoundeci into a Democratic) instantly second the proposal? Nay the very Versailles National Guard, wearied with con- ' tinual duty at the Chateau, did not object; only Draper Le- cointre, who is now Major Lecointre, shook his head. — Yes, , Friends, surely it was natural this Regiment de Flandre should be sent for, since it could be got. It was natural that, at sight of military bandoleers, the heart of the rallied CEil-de-Bceuf should revive ; and Maids of Honor, and gentlemen of honor, speak comfortable words to epauletted defenders and to one another. Natural also, and mere common civility, that the Bodyguards, a Regiment of Gentlemen, should invite their Flandre brethren to a Dinner of welcome ! — Such invitation, in the last days of September, is given and accepted. Dinners are defined as " the ultimate act of communion ;" men that can have communion in nothing else, can sympa- thetically eat together, can still rise into some glow of brother- hood over food and wine. The Dinner is fixed on, for Thurs- day the First of October; and ought to have a fine effect. Further, as such Dinner may be rather extensive, and even the Noncommissioned and the Common man be introduced, to see and to hear, could not his Majesty's Opera Apartment, which has Iain quite silent ever since Kaiser Joseph was here, be obtained for the purpose? — The Hall of the Opera is granted ; the Salon d'Hercule shall be drawing-room. Not only the Officers of Flandre, but of the Swiss, of the Hundred Swiss ; nay of the Versailles National Guard, such of them as have any loyalty, shall feast: it will be a Repast like few. And now suppose this Repast, the solid part of it, trans- acted ; and the first bottle over. Suppose the customary loyal toasts drunk ; the King's health, the Queen's with deafening vivats ; — that of the Nation " omitted," or even " rejected." Suppose champagne flowing; with pot-valorous speech, with instrumental music ; empty featherheads growing ever the noisier, in their own emptiness, in each other's noise. Her Majesty, who looks unusually sad to-night (his Majesty sitting dulled with the day's hunting), is told that the sight of it would cheer her. Behold ! She enters there, issuing from her State-rooms, like the Moon from clouds, this fairest tmhappy Queen of Hearts; royal husband by her side, young Dauphin October ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 213 in her arms ! She descends from the Boxes, amid splendor and acclaim ; walks queenlikc round the Tables ; gracefully escorted, gracefully nodding ; her looks full of sorrow, yet of gratitude and daring, with the hope of France on her mother-bosom ! And now, the band striking up, O Richard, O mon Roi, rimivcrs t'abandonne (O Richard, O my King, the world is all forsaking thee), could man do other than rise to height of pity, of loyal valor? Could featherheaded young ensigns do other than, by white Bourbon Cockades, handed them from fair fingers ; by waving of swords, drawn to pledge the Queen's health ; by trampling of National Cock- ades ; by scaling the Boxes, whence intrusive murmurs may come; by vociferation, tripudiation, sound, fury and distrac- tion, within doors and without, — testify what tempest-tost state of vacuity they are in? Till champagne and tripudiation do their work ; and all lie silent, horizontal ; passively slum- bering with meed-of-battle dreams ! — A natural Repast ; in ordinary times, a harmless one : now fatal, as that of Thyestes ; as that of Job's Sons, when a strong wind smote the four corners of their banquet-house ! Poor ill-advised Marie- Antoinette ; with a woman's vehemence, not with a sovereign's foresight ! It was so natural, yet so unwise. Next day, in public speech of ceremony, her Majesty _ declares herself " delighted with the Thursday." \ The heart of the CEil-de-Boeuf glows into hope ; into daring, which is premature. Rallied Maids of Honor, waited on by Abbes, sew " white cockades ;" distribute them, with words, with glances, to epauletted youths ; who in return, may kiss, not without fervor, the fair sewing fingers. Captains of horse and foot go swashing with " enormous white cockades ;" nay one Versailles National Captain has mounted the like, so witch- ing were the words and glances, and laid aside his tricolor ! Well may Major Lecointrc shake his head with a look of severity ; and speak audiljlc resentful words. But now a swash- buckler, with enormous white cockade, overhearing the Major, invites him insolently, once and then again elsewhere, to re- cant ; and failing that, to duel. Which latter feat Major Le- cointre declares that he will not perform, not at least by any known laws of fence ; that he nevertheless will, according to mere law of Nature, by dirk and blade, " exterminate " any " vile gladiator " who may insult him or the Nation ; — where- 214 CARLYLE [1789 upon (for the Major is actually drawing his implement) " they are parted," and no weasands slit.o Chapter III. — Black Cockades. But fancy what effect this Thyestes Repast, and trampling on the National Cockade, must have had in the Salic des Menus; in the famishing Bakers'-queues at Paris ! Nay such Thyestes Repasts, it would seem, continue. Flandre has given its Counter-Dinner to the Swiss and Hundred Swiss ; then on Saturday there has been another. Yes, here with us is famine; but yonder at Versailles is food enough and to spare ! Patriotism stands in queue, shivering hunger-struck, insulted by Patrollotism ; while i bloodyminded Aristocrats, heated with excess of high living, ' trample on the National Cockade. Can the atrocity be true? Nay look : green uniforms faced with red ; black cockades, — the color of Night ! Are we to have military onfall ; and death also by starvation? For, behold, the Corbeil Cornboat, which used to come twice a-day, with its plaster-of-paris meal, now comes only once. And the Townhall is deaf ; and the men are laggard and dastard ! — At the Cafe de Foy, this Saturday evening, a new thing is seen, not the last of its kind : a woman engaged in public speaking. Her poor man, she says, was put to silence by his District ; their Presidents and Officials would not let him speak. Wherefore she here, with her shrill tongue, will speak ; denouncing, while her breath endures, the Corbeil Boat, the plaster-of-paris bread, sacrilegious Opera-dinners, green uniforms. Pirate Aristo- crats, and those black cockades of theirs ! — Truly, it is time for the black cockades at least to vanish. Them Patrollotism itself will not protect. Nay sharp-tempered " M. Tassin," at the Tuileries parade on Sunday morning, for- gets all National military rule ; starts from the ranks, wrenches down one black cockade which is swashing ominous there, and tramples it fiercely into the soil of France. Patrollotism itself is not without suppressed fury. Also the Districts begin to stir ; the voice of President Danton reverberates in the Cor- a Moniteiir (in Histoire Parlementaire, iii. 59); Deux Amis, iii. 128- 141; Campan, ii. 70-85; &c. &c. October 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 215 deliers : People's-Friend Marat has flown to Versailles and back again; — swart bird, not of the halcyon kind.6 And so Patriot meets promenading Patriot, this Sunday; and sees his own grim care reflected on the face of another. Groups, in spite of Patrollotism, which is not so alert as usual, fluctuate deliberative; groups on the Bridges, on the Quais, at the patriotic Cafes. And ever as any black cock- ade may emerge, rises the many-voiced growl and bark: A has, Down! All black cockades are ruthlessly plucked of¥: one individual picks his up again ; kisses it, attempts to refix it ; but a " hundred canes start into the air," and he desists. Still worse went it with another individual ; doomed, by ex- temporate Plchiscitum, to the Lanterne; saved, with diffi- culty, by some active Corps-de-Garde. — Lafayette sees signs of an effervescence; which he doubles his Patrols, doubles his diligence, to prevent. So passes Sunday the 4th of October 1789. Sullen is the male heart, repressed by Patrollotism ; vehe- ment is the female, irrepressible. The public-speaking woman at the Palais Royal was not the only speaking one : — Men know not what the pantry is, when it grows empty; only house- mothers know. O women, wives of men that will only cal- culate and not act! Patrollotism is strong; but Death, by- starvation and military onfall, is stronger. Patrollotism re- presses male Patriotism ; but female Patriotism ? Will Guards named National thrust their bayonets into the bosoms of women? Such thought, or rather such dim unshaped raw material of a thought, ferments universally under the female nightcap; and, by earliest daybreak, on slight hint, will ex- plode. Chapter IV. — The Menads. If Voltaire once, in splenetic humor, asked his country- men : " But you, Gualches, what have you invented ? " they can now answer: The Art of Insurrection. It was an art needed in these last singular times: an art for which the French nature, so full of vehemence, so free from depth, was perhaps of all others the fittest. b Camille's Newspaper. Revolutions dc Paris ct dc Brabant (in His- toire Parlctiicntairc, iii. 108). 2i6 CARLYLE [1789 Accordingly, to what a height, one may well say of per- fection, has this branch of human industry been carried by France, within the last half-century! Insurrection, which Lafayette thought might be " the most sacred of duties," ranks now, for the French people, among the duties which they can perform. Other mobs are dull masses ; which roll onwards with a dull fierce tenacity, a dull fierce heat, but emit no light-flashes of genius as they go. The French mob, again, is among the liveliest phenomena of our world. So rapid, ^y audacious ; so clear-sighted, inventive, prompt to seize the i ■ "^ moment ; instinct with life to its finger-ends ! That talent,-- were there no other, of spontaneously standing in queue, dis- tinguishes, as we said, the French People from all Peoples, ancient and modern. Let the Reader confess too that, taking one thing with another, perhaps few terrestrial Appearances are better worth considering than mobs. Your mob is a genuine outburst of Nature ; issuing from, or communicating with, the deepest deep of Nature. When so much goes grinnipg and grimacing as a lifeless Formality, and under the stifif 'i^uckram no heart can be felt beating, here once more, if nowhere else, is a Sin- cerity and Reality. Shudder at it ; or even shriek over it, if thou must; nevertheless consider it. Such a Complex of human Forces and Individualities hurled forth, in their trans- cendental mood, to act and react, on circumstances and on one another ; to work out what it is in them to work. The thing they will do is known to no man ; least of all to them- selves. It is the inflammablest immeasurable Firework, gen- erating, consuming itself. With what phases, to what extent, with what results it will burn off, Philosophy and Perspicacity conjecture in vain. " Man," as has been written, " is forever interesting to man ; " nay properly there is nothing else interesting." In which light also may we not discern why most Battles have become so weari- some? Battles, in these ages, are transacted by mechanism; with the slightest possible development of human individuality or spontaneity: men now even die, and kill one another, in an artificial manner. Battles ever since Homer's time, when they were Fighting Mobs, have mostly ceased to be worth looking > at, worth reading of or remembering. How many wearisome" bloody Battles does History strive to represent ; or even, in a 1 October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 217 husky way, to sing: — and she would omit or carelessly slur- over this one Insurrection of Women ? A thought, or dim raw-material of a thought, was fermenting all night, universally in the female head, and might explode. In squalid garret, on Monday morning Maternity awakes, to hear children weeping for bread. Maternity must forth to the streets, to the herb-markets and Bakers'-queues ; meets there with hunger-stricken Maternity, sympathetic, exasperative. O we unhappy women ! But, instead of Bakers'-queues, why not | to Aristocrats' palaces, the root of the matter? Allans ! Let us assemble. To the H6tel-de-Ville ; to Versailles; to the Lanterne. In one of the Guardhouses of the Quartier Saint-Eustache, " a young woman " seizes a drum, — for how shall National Guards give fire on women, on a young woman? The young woman seizes the drum; sets forth, beating it, " uttering cries relative to the dearth of grains." Descend, O mothers ; descend, ye Judiths, to food and revenge! — All women gather and go; crowds storm all stairs, force out all women: the female In- surrectionary Force, according to Camille, resembles the Eng- lish Naval one ; there is a universal " Press of women." Robust Dames of the Halle, slim Mantua-makers, assiduous, risen with the dawn ; ancient Virginity tripping to matins ; the Housemaid, with early broom ; all must go. Rouse ye, O women ; the lag- gard men will not act ; they say, we ourselves may act ! And so, like snowbreak from the mountains, for every stair- case is a melted brook, it storms; tumultuous, wild-shrilling, towards the H6tel-de-Ville. Tumultuous ; with or without drum-music : for the Faubourg Saint- Antoine also has tucked- up its gown ; and with besom-staves, fire-irons, and even rusty pistols (void of ammunition), is flowing on. Sound of it flies, with a velocity of sound, to the utmost Barriers. By seven ■, o'clock, on this raw October morning, fifth of the month, the < Townhall will see wonders. Nay, as chance would have it, a male party are already there; clustering tumultuously round some National Patrol, and a Baker who has been seized with short weights. They are there ; and have even lowered the rope . of the Lanterne. So that the of^cial persons have to snmgglo forth the short-weighing Baker by back-doors, and even send " to all the Districts " for more force. Grand it was, says Camille, to see so many Judiths, from eight 2i8 CARLYLE [1789 to ten thousand of them in all, rushing out to search into the root of the matter ! Not unfrightful it must have been ; ludicro- terrific, and most unmanageable. At such hour the over- watched Three Hundred are not yet stirring: none but some Clerks, a company of National Guards ; and M. de Gouvion, the Major-general. Gouvoin has fought in America for the cause of civil Liberty ; a man of no inconsiderable heart, but deficient in head. He is, for the moment, in his back apart- ment ; assuaging Usher Maillard, the Bastille-sergeant, who has come, as too many do, with " representation." The as- suagement is still incomplete when our Judiths arrive. The National Guards form on the outer stairs, with levelled bayonets ; the ten thousand Judiths press up, resistless ; with obtestations, with outspread hands, — merely to speak to the Mayor. The rear forces them ; nay from male hands in the rear, stones already fly; the National Guard must do one of two things ; sweep the Place de Greve with cannon, or else open to right and left. They open ; the living deluge rushes in. Through all rooms and cabinets, upwards to the topmost belfry : ravenous ; seeking arms, seeking Mayors, seeking justice ; — while, again, the better-dressed speak kindly to the Clerks ; point out the misery of these poor women ; also their ailments, some even of an interesting sort.o Poor M. de Gouvion is shiftless in this extremity ; — a man shiftless, perturbed : who will one day commit suicide. How happy for him that Usher Maillard the shifty was there, at the moment, though making representations ! Fly back, thou shifty Maillard : seek the Bastille Company ; and O return fast with it ; above all, with thy own shifty head ! For, behold, the Judiths can find no Mayor or Municipal ; scarcely, in the top- most belfry, can they find poor Abbe Lefevre the Powder-dis- tributor. Him, for want of a better, they suspend there : in the pale morning light; over the top of all Paris, which swims in one's failing eyes : — a horrible end ? Nay the rope broke, as French ropes often did ; or else an Amazon cut it. Abbe Le- fevre falls, some twenty feet, rattling among the leads ; and lives long years after, though always with " a tremblemcnt in the limbs."ft And now doors fly under hatchets ; the Judiths have broken a Deux Amis, iii. 141-166. b Dusaulx, Prise de la Bastille, note, p. 281. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 219 the Armory ; have seized guns and cannons, three money-bags, paper-heaps ; torches flare : in few minutes, our brave H6tel-de- Ville, which dates from the Fourth Henry, will, with all that it >/ holds, be in flames ! Chapter V. — Usher Maillard. In flames, truly, — were it not that Usher Maillard, swift of foot, shifty of head, has returned ! Maillard, of his own motion, — for Gouvion or the rest would not even sanction him, — snatches a drum ; descends the Porch- stairs, ran-tan, beating sharp, with loud rolls,hisRogues'-march: To Versailles! Allans; a Versailles! As men beat on kettle or warming-pan, when angry she-bees, or say, flying desperate wasps, are to be hived ; and the desperate insects hear it, and cluster round it, — simply as round a guidance, where there was none : so now these Menads round shifty Maillard, Riding- Usher of the Chatelet. The axe pauses uplifted ; Abbe Lefevre is left half-hanged : from the belfry downwards all vomits itself. What rub-a-dub is that? Stanislas Maillard, Bastille hero, will lead us to Versailles ? Joy to thee, Maillard ; blessed art thou above Riding-Ushers ! Away, then, away ! The seized cannon are yoked with seized cart-horses : brown- locked Demoiselle Theroigne, with pike and helmet, sits there as gunneress, " with haughty eye and serene fair countenance ; " comparable, some think, to the Maid of Orleans, or even recall- ing " the idea of Pallas Athene. "<^ Maillard (for his drum still rolls) is, by heaven-rending acclamation, admitted General. Maillard hastens the languid march. Maillard, beating rhythmic, with sharp ran-tan, all along the Quais, leads forward, with difficulty, his Menadic host. Such a host — marched not in silence ! The bargeman pauses on the River ; all wagoners and coach-drivers fly ; men peer from windows, — not women, lest they be pressed. Sight of sights : Bacchantes, in these ultimate Formalized Ages! Bronze Henri looks on, from his Pont- Neuf ; the Monarchic Louvre, Medicean Tuileries see a day like none heretofore seen. And now Maillard has his Menads in the Champs FJysces (Fields Tartarean rather) ; and the H6tel-dc-Ville has sufi^ered comparatively nothing. Broken doors ; an Abbe Lefevre, who c Deux Amis, iii. 157. 220 CARLYLE [1789 shall never more distribute powder ; three sacks of money, most part of which (for Sansculottism, though famishing, is not with- out honor) shall be returned :<^ this is all the damage. Great Maillard ! A small nucleus of Order is round his drum ; but his outskirts fluctuate like the mad Ocean: for Rascality male and female is flowing in on him, from the four winds : guidance there is none but in his single head and two drumsticks. O Maillard, when, since War first was, had General of Force such a task before him as thou this day ? Walter the Penniless still touches the feeling heart : but then Walter had sanction ; had space to turn in ; and also his Crusaders were of the male sex. Thou, this day, disowned of Heaven and Earth, art Gen- eral of Menads. Their inarticulate frenzy thou must, on the spur of the instant, render into articulate words, into actions that are not frantic. Fail in it, this way or that ! Pragmatical Officiality, with its penalties and law-books, waits before thee ; Menads storm behind. If such hewed off the melodious head of Orpheus, and hurled it into the Peneus waters, what may they not make of thee, — the rhythmic merely, with no music but a sheep-skin drum! — Maillard did not fail. Remarkable Mail- ; ■, lard, if fame were not an accident, and History a distillation of ' '^ Rumor, how remarkable wert thou ! On the Elysian Fields there is pause and fluctuation ; but, for Maillard, no return. He persuades his Menads, clamorous for arms and the Arsenal, that no arms are in the Arsenal ; that an unarmed attitude, and petition to a National Assembly, will be the best : he hastily nominates or sanctions generalesses, captains of tens and fifties ; — and so, in loosest-flowing order, to the rhythm of some "eight drums" (having laid aside his own), with the Bastille Volunteers bringing up his rear, once more takes the road. Chaillot, which will promptly yield baked loaves, is not plundered ; nor are the Sevres Potteries broken. The old arches of Sevres Bridge echo under Menadic feet ; Seine River gushes on with his perpetual murmur; and Paris flings after us the boom of tocsin and alarm-drum, inaudible, for the present, amid shrill-sounding hosts, and the splash of rainy weather. To Meudon, to Saint-Cloud, on both hands, the report of them is gone abroad ; and hearths, this evening, will have a topic. The press of women still continues, for it d Hist. Pari. iii. 310. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 221 is the cause of all Eve's Daughters, mothers that are, or that ought to he. No carriage-lady, were it with never such hys- terics, hut must dismount, in the mud-roads, in her silk shoes, and walk.c In this manner, amid wild October weather, they, a wild unwinged stork-flight, through the astonished country wend their way. Travellers of all sorts they stop; especially travellers or couriers from Paris. Deputy Lechapclier, in his elegant vesture, from his elegant vehicle, looks forth amazed through his spectacles ; apprehensive for life ; — states eagerly that he is Patriot-Deputy Lechapelier, and even Old-President Lechapelier, who presided on the Night of Pentecost, and is original member of the Breton Club. Thereupon " rises huge shout of Vive Lechapelier, and several armed persons spring up behind and before to escort X-nm^f Nevertheless, news, despatches from Lafayette, or vague noise of rumor, have pierced through, by side roads. In the National Asseinbly, while all is busy discussing the order of the day; regretting that there should be Anti-National Re- pasts in Opera-halls; that his Majesty should still hesitate about accepting the Rights of Man, and hang conditions and peradventures on them, — Mirabeau steps up to the President, experienced Mounier as it chanced to be ; and articulates, in bass-undertone: "Mounier, Paris marche sur nous (Paris is marching on us)." — " May be (Je n'en sais rien) ! " — " Believe it or disbelieve it, that is not my concern ; but Paris, I say, is marching on us. Fall suddenly unwell; go over to the Cha- teau ; tell them this. There is not a moment to lose." — " Paris marching on us ? " responds Mounier, with an atrabiliar ac- cent: " Well, so much the better. We shall the sooner be a Re- public." Mirabeau quits him, as one quits an experienced President getting blind-fold into deep waters ; and the order of the day continues as before. Yes, Paris is marching 011 us; and more than the women of Paris! Scarcely was Maillard gone, when M. de Gouvion's message to all the Districts, and such tocsin and drumming of the gcncrale. began to take cfToct. Armed National Guards from every District ; especially the Grenadiers of the Centre, who are our old Gardes Fran(;aises, arrive, in quick sequence, on the Place de Greve. An " immense people " is there ; Saint- e Deux Amis, iii. 15Q. /Ibid. ii. 177; Dictionnairc dcs Homines Marquans, ii. 379, 222 CARLYLE [1789 Antoine, with pike and rusty firelock, is all crowding thither, be it welcome or unwelcome. The Centre Grenadiers are re- ceived with cheering : " It is not cheers that we want," answer they gloomily ; " the Nation has been insulted ; to arms, and come with us for orders! " Ha, sits the wind sof Patriotism and Patrollotism are now one ! The Three Hundred have assembled ; " all the Committees are in activity ;" Lafayette is dictating despatches for Ver- sailles, when a Deputation of the Centre Grenadiers introduces itself to him. The Deputation makes military obeisance ; and thus speaks, not without a kind of thought in it: " Mon General, we are deputed by the Six Companies of Grena- diers. We do not think you a traitor, but we think the Govern- ment betrays you ; it is time that this end. We cannot turn our bayonets against women crying to us for bread. The people are miserable, the source of the mischief is at Ver- sailles : we must go seek the King, and bring him to Paris. We must exterminate {cxter miner) the Regiment de Flandre and the Gardes-du-Corps, who have dared to trample on the National Cockade. If the King be too weak to wear his crown, let him lay it down. You will crown his Son, you will name a Council of Regency : and all will go better.''^ Reproachful astonishment paints itself on the face of Lafayette ; speaks itself from his eloquent chivalrous lips : in vain. " My General, we would shed the last drop of our blood for you ; but the root of the mischief is at Versailles ; we must go and bring the King to Paris ; all the people wish it, tout le peuple le veut." My General descends to the outer staircase ; and harangues : once more in vain. " To Versailles ! To Versailles ! " Mayor Bailly, sent for through floods of Sansculottism, attempts academic oratory from his gilt state-coach ; realizes nothing but infinite hoarse cries of: "Bread! To Versailles!" — and gladly shrinks within doors. Lafayette mounts the white charger; and again harangues, and reharangues: with elo- quence, with firmness, indignant demonstration ; with all things but persuasion. " To Versailles ! To Versailles ! " So lasts it, hour after hour; — for the space of half a day. The great Scipio-Americanus can do nothing; not so much as escape. "Morbleu, mon General," cry the Grenadiers serry- S Deux Amis, iii. 161. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 223 ing their ranks as the white charger makes a motion that way, " you will not leave us, you will abide with us ! " A perilous juncture: Mayor Bailly and the Municipals sit quak- ing within doors ; my General is prisoner without : the Place de Greve, with its thirty thousand Regulars, its whole irregu- lar Saint-Antoine and Saint-Marceau, is one minatory mass of clear or rusty steel ; all hearts set, with a moody fixedness, on one object. Moody, fixed are all hearts: tranquil is no heart, — if it be not that of the white charger, who paws there, with arched neck, composedly champing his bit; as if no World, with its Dynasties and Eras, were now rushing down. The drizzly day bends westward ; the cry is still : " To Ver- sailles!" Nay now, borne from afar, come quite sinister cries ; hoarse, reverberating in long-drawn hollow murmurs, with syllables too like those of " Lanterne!" Or else, irregular Sansculottism may be marching off, of itself; with pikes, nay with cannon. The inflexible Scipio does at length, by aide- de-camp, ask of the Municipals : Whether or not he may go ? A Letter is handed out to him, over armed heads ; sixty thou- sand faces flash fixedly on his, there is stillness and no bosom breathes, till he have read. By Heaven, he grows suddenly pale ! Do the Municipals permit ? " Permit and even order," — since he can no other. Clangor of approval rends the welkin. To your ranks, then ; let us march ! It is, as we compute, towards three in the afternoon. In- dignant National Guards may dine for once from their haver- sack : dined or undincd, they march with one heart. Paris flings-up her windows, " claps hands," as the Avengers, with their shrilling drums and shalms tramp by ; she will then sit pensive, apprehensive, and pass rather a sleepless night. /» On the white charger, Lafayette, in the slowest possible manner, going and coming, and eloquently haranguing among the ranks, rolls onward with his thirty thousand. Saint-Antoine, with pike and cannon, has preceded him ; a mixed multitude, of all and of no arms, hovers on his flanks and skirts ; the country once more pauses agape : Paris marche sur nous. hDeux Amis, iii. 165. 2 24 CARLYLE [1789 Chapter VI.— To Versailles. For, indeed, about this same moment, Maillard has haUed his draggled Menads on the last hill-top ; and now Versailles, and the Chateau of Versailles, and far and wide the inheritance of Royalty opens to the wondering eye. From far on the right, over Marly and Saint-Germain-en-Laye ; round towards Ram- bouillet, on the.left: beautiful all; softly embosomed; as if in sadness, in the dim moist weather ! And near before us is Ver- sailles, New and Old ; with that broad frondent Avenue de Versailles between, — stately-frondent, broad, three hundred feet as men reckon, with its four Rows of Elms ; and then the Chateau de Versailles, ending in royal Parks and Pleasances, gleaming Lakelets, Arbors, Labyrinths, the Menagerie, and Great and Little Trianon. High-towered dwellings, leafy pleasant places ; where the gods of this lower world abide : whence, nevertheless, black Care cannot be excluded ; whither Menadic Hunger is even now advancing, armed with pike- thyrsi ! Yes, yonder, Mesdames, where our straight frondent Avenue, joined, as you note, by Two frondent brother Avenues from this hand and from that, spreads out into Place Royal and Palace Forecourt, — yonder is the Salle dcs Menus. Yonder an august Assembly sits regenerating France. Forecourt, Grand Court, Court of Marble, Court narrowing into Court you may discern next, or fancy: on the extreme verge of which that glass-dome, visibly glittering like a star of hope, is the — Qiil- de-Boeuf! Yonder, or nowhere in the world, is bread baked for us. But, O Mesdames, were not one thing good : That our cannons, with Demoiselle Theroigne and all show of war, be put to the rear? Submission beseems petitioners of a National Assembly ; we are strangers in Versailles, — whence, too au- dibly, there comes even now a sound as of tocsin and gencrale! Also to put on, if possible, a cheerful countenance, hiding our sorrows ; and even to sing? Sorrow, pitied of the Heavens, is hateful, suspicious to the Earth. — So counsels shifty Maillard ; haranguing his Menads, on the heights near Versailles.^ Cunning Maillard's dispositions are obeyed. The draggled Insurrectionists advance up the Avenue, " in three columns," I See Hist. Pari. iii. 70-117; Deux Amis, iii. 166-177, &c. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 225 among the four Elm-rows ; " singing Henri Quatrc," with what melody they can ; and shouting Vive Ic Roi. Versailles, though the Elm-rows are dripping wet, crowds from both sides, with : "Vivcnt nos Parisiennes, Our Paris ones forever ! " Prickers, scouts have been out towards Paris, as the rumor deepened: whereby his Majesty, gone to shoot in the Woods of Meudon, has been happily discovered, and got home ; and the gencrale and tocsin set a-sounding. The Bodyguards are already drawn up in front of the Palace Grates ; and look down the Avenue de Versailles; sulky, in wet buckskins. Flandre too is there, repentant of the Opera-Repast. Also Dragoons dismounted are there. Finally Major Lecointre, and what he can gather of the Versailles National Guard ; — though it is to be observed, our Colonel, that same sleepless Count d'Estaing, giving neither order nor ammunition, has vanished most im- properly ; one supposes, into the CEil-de-Boeuf. Red-coated Swiss stand within the Grates, under arms. There likewise, in their inner room, " all the Ministers," Saint-Priest, Lamenta- tion Pompignan and the rest, are assembled with M. Necker: they sit with him there ; blank, expecting what the hour will bring. President Mounier, though he answered Mirabeau with a taut mieux, and affected to slight the matter, had his own fore- bodings. Surely, for these four weary hours he has reclined not on roses ! The order of the day is getting forward : a Deputation to his Majesty seems proper, that it might please him to grant " Acceptance pure and simple " to those Consti- tution-Articles of ours ; the " mixed qualified Acceptance," with its peradventurcs, is satisfactory to neither gods nor men. So much is clear. And yet there is more, which no man speaks, which all men now vaguely understand. Disquietude, absence of mind is on every face ; Members whisper, uneasily come and go : the order of the day is evidently not the day's want. Till at length, from the outer gates, is heard a rustling and justling, shrill uproar and squabbling, muffled by walls ; which testifies that the hour is come! Rushing and crushing one hears now ; then enter Usher Maillard, with a Deputation of Fifteen muddy dripping Women, — having, by incredible industry, and aid of all the macers, persuaded the rest to wait out of doors. National Assembly shall now, therefore, look its august task directly in the face : regenerative Constitutional- VOL. 1. — IS 2 26 CARLYLE I17S9 ism has an unregenerate Sansculottism bodily in front of it; crying, " Bread ! Bread ! " Shifty Maillard, translating frenzy into articulation ; repres- sive with the one hand, expostulative with the other, does his best ; and really, though not bred to public speaking, manages rather well : — In the present dreadful rarity of grains, a Depu- tation of Female Citizens has, as the august Assembly can dis- cern, come out from Paris to petition. Plots of Aristocrats are too evident in the matter; for example, one miller has been ; bribed " by a bank-note of 200 livres " not to grind, — name un- I known to the Usher, but fact provable, at least indubitable. Further, it seems, the National Cockade has been trampled on ; also there are Black Cockades, or were. All which things will not an august National Assembly, the hope of France, take : into its wise immediate consideration ? J And Menadic Hunger, irrepressible, crying " Black Cock- ades," crying " Bread, Bread," adds, after such fashion : Will it not? — Yes, Messieurs, if a Deputation to his Majesty, for the " Acceptance pure and simple," seemed proper, — how much more now, for " the afflicting situation of Paris ; " for the calming of this effervescence ! President Mounier, with a speedy Deputation, among whom we notice the respectable figure of Doctor Guillotin, gets himself forward on march. Vice-President shall continue the order of the day ; Usher Maillard shall stay by him to repress the women. It is four o'clock, of the miserablest afternoon, when Mounier steps out. O experienced Mounier, what an afternoon ; the last of thy political existence ! Better had it been to " fall suddenly un- well," while it was yet time. For, behold, the Esplanade, over all its spacious expanse, is covered with groups of squalid drip- ping Women ; of lankhaired male Rascality, armed with axes,) rusty pikes, old muskets, iron-shod clubs (batons fcrrcs, which end in knives or swordblades, a kind of extempore billhook) ; — looking nothing but hungry revolt. The rain pours : Gardes- du-Corps go caracoling through the groups " amid hisses ; " irritating and agitating what is but dispersed here to reunite there. Innumerable squalid women beleaguer the President and Deputation ; insist on going with him : has not his Majesty himself, looking from the window, sent out to ask, What we wanted ? " Bread, and speech with the King {Du pain, et parlcr October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 227 an Roi)," that was the answer. Twelve women are clamorously added to the Deputation ; and march with it, across the Es- planade ; through dissipated groups, caracoling Bodyguards and the pouring rain. President Mounier, unexpectedly augmented by Twelve women, copiously escorted by Hunger and Rascality, is him- self mistaken for a group : himself and his Women are dis- persed by caracolers ; rally again with difficulty, among the mud.a Finally the Grates are opened ; the Deputation gets access, with the Twelve women too in it ; of which latter, Five shall even see the face of his Majesty. Let wet Menadism, in the best spirits it can, expect their return. Chapter VII At Versailles. But already Pallas Athene (in the shape of Demoiselle Theroigne) is busy with Flandre and the dismounted Dra- goons. She, and such women as are fittest, go through the ranks; speak with an earnest jocosity; clasp rough troopers to their patriot bosom, crush down spontoons and musketoons with soft arms : can a man, that were worthy of the name of man, attack famishing patriot women? One reads that Theroigne had bags of money, which she distributed over Flandre: — furnished by whom? Alas, with money-bags one seldom sits on insurrectionary cannon. Ca-i lumnious Royalism ! Theroigne had only the limited earnings' of her profession of unfortunate-female; money she had not,; V but brown locks, the figure of a Heathen Goddess and an eIo-| quent tongue and heart. Meanwhile Saint-Antoine, in groups and troops, is continu- ally arriving ; wetted, sulky ; with pikes and impromptu bill- hooks : driven thus far by popular fixed idea. So many hirsute figures driven hither, in that manner: figures that have come to do they know not what ; figures that have come to see it done! Distinguished among all figures, who is this, of gaunt stature, with leaden breastplate, though a small one -b bushy in red grizzled locks ; nay with long tile-heard ? It is Jourdan, unjust dealer in mules ; a dealer no longer, but a Painter's a Mounier, Expose Justificatif (cited in Deux Amis, iii. 185). b See Weber, ii. 185-231. 228 CARLYLE [1789 Model, playing truant this day. From the necessities of Art comes his long tile-beard ; whence his leaden breastplate (un- less indeed he were some Hawker licensed by leaden badge) may have come, will perhaps remain forever a Historical Prob- lem. Another Saul among the people we discern : " Pere Adam, Father Adam," as the groups name him ; to us better known as bull-voiced Marquis Saint-Huruge ; hero of the Veto; a man that has had losses, and deserved them. The tall Marquis, emitted some days ago from limbo, looks peripatetic- ally on this scene from under his umbrella, not without inter- est. All which persons and things, hurled together as we see ; Pallas Athene, busy with Flandre ; patriotic Versailles Na- tional Guards, short of ammunition, and deserted by D'Estaing their Colonel, and commanded by Lecointre their Major ; then caracoling Bodyguards, sour, dispirited, with their buckskins wet ; and finally this flowing sea of indignant Squalor, — may they not give rise to occurrences? Behold, however, the Twelve She-deputies return from the Chateau. Without President Mounier, indeed ; but radiant with joy, shouting " Life to the King and his House." Appar- ently the news are good, Mesdames ? News of the best ! Five of us were admitted to the internal splendors, to the Royal Pres- ence. This slim damsel, " Louison Chabray, worker in sculp- ture, aged only seventeen," as being of the best looks and ad- dress, her we appointed speaker. On whom, and indeed on all of us, his Majesty looked nothing but graciousness. Nay when Louison, addressing him, was like to faint, he took her in his royal arms, and said gallantly, " It was well worth while (EUe en valiit bicn la peine)." Consider, O Women, what a King! His words were of comfort, and that only : there shall be pro- vision sent to Paris, if provision is in the world ; grains shall circulate free as air ; millers shall grind, or do worse, while their mill-stones endure ; and nothing be left wrong which a Restorer of French Liberty can right. Good news these ; but, to wet Menads, ail-too incredible ! There seems no proof, then ! Words of comfort, — they are words only ; which will feed nothing. O miserable People, betrayed by Aristocrats, who corrupt thy very messengers ! In his royal arms. Mademoiselle Louison? In his arms? Thou shameless minx, worthy of a name — that shall be nameless ! Yes, thy skin is soft : ours is rough with hardship ; and well October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 229 wetted, waiting here in the rain. No children hast thou hungry at home ; only alabaster dolls, that weep not ! The traitress ! To the Lanterne ! — And so poor Louison Chabray, no assevera- tion or shrieks availing her, fair slim damsel, late in the arms of Royalty, has a garter round her neck, and furibund Amazons at each end ; is about to perish so, — when two Bodyguards gallop up, indignantly dissipating ; and rescue her. The mis- credited Twelve hasten back to the Chateau, for an " answer in writing." Nay, behold, a new flight of Menads, with " M. Brunout Bastille Volunteer," as impressed-commandant, at the head of it. These also will advance to the Grate of the Grand Court, and see what is toward. Human patience, in wet buckskins, has its limits. Bodyguard Lieutenant M. de Savonnieres for one moment lets his temper, long provoked, long pent, give way. He not only dissipates these latter Menads ; but cara- coles and cuts, or indignantly flourishes, at M. Brunout, the impressed-commandant ; and, finding great relief in it, even chases him ; Brunout flying nimbly, though in a pirouette manner, and now with sword also drawn. At which sight of wrath and victory, two other Bodyguards (for wrath is con- tagious, and to pent Bodyguards is so solacing) do likewise give way ; give chase, with brandished sabre, and in the air make horrid circles. So that poor Brunout has nothing for it but to retreat with accelerated nimbleness, through rank after rank ; Parthian-like, fencing as he flies ; above all, shouting lustily, " On noits laisse assassincr, They are getting us assas- sinated ! " Shameful ! Three against one ! Growls come from the Lecointrian ranks ; bellowings, — lastly shots. Savonnieres' arm is raised to strike : the bullet of a Lecointrian musket shatters it ; the brandished sabre jingles down harmless. Brunout has escaped, this duel well ended : but the wild howl of war is everywhere beginning to pipe ! The Amazons recoil ; Saint-Antoine has its cannon pointed (full of grapeshot) ; thrice applies the lit flambeau ; which thrice refuses to catch, — the touchholes are so wetted ; and voices cry : " Arreted, il n'est pas temps encore, Stop, it is not yet time ! "c Messieurs of the Garde-du-Corps, yc had orders not to fire ; nevertheless two of you limp dismounted, and one war- c Deux Amis, ii. 192-201. 230 CARLYLE [1789 horse lies slain. Were it not well to draw back out of shot- range ; finally to file ofif, — into the interior? If in so filing off, there did a musketoon or two discharge itself at these armed shopkeepers, hooting and crowing, could man wonder? Drag- gled are your white cockades of an enormous size ; would to Heaven they were got exchanged for tricolor ones ! Your buckskins are wet, your hearts heavy. Go, and return not ! The Bodyguards file off, as we hint ; giving and receiving shots ; drawing no life-blood ; leaving boundless indignation. Some three times in the thickening dusk, a glimpse of them is seen, at this or the other Portal : saluted always with execra- tions, with the whew of lead. Let but a Bodyguard show face, he is hunted by Rascality ; — for instance, poor " M. de Mouche- ton of the Scotch Company," owner of the slain war-horse ; and has to be smuggled off by Versailles Captains. Or rusty firelocks belch after him, shivering asunder his — hat. In the end, by superior Order, the Bodyguards, all but the few on immediate duty, disappear ; or as it were abscond ; and march, under cloud of night, to Rambouillet.of We remark also that the Versaillese have now got ammuni- tion : all afternoon, the official Person could find none ; till, in these so critical moments, a patriotic Sublieutenant set a pistol to his ear, and would thank him to find some, — which he thereupon succeeded in doing. Likewise that Flandre, dis- armed by Pallas Athene, says openly, it will not fight with citi- zens ; and for token of peace has exchanged cartridges with the Versaillese. Sansculottism is now among mere friends ; and can " cir- culate freely ; " indignant at Bodyguards ; — complaining also considerably of hunger. Chapter VIII.— The Equal Diet. But why lingers Mounier ; returns not with his Deputation? It is six, it is seven o'clock ; and still no Mounier, no Accept- ance pure and simple. -^ And, behold, the dripping Menads, not now in deputation but in mass, have penetrated into the Assembly : to the shame- fulest interruption of public speaking and order of the day. d Weber, ubi supra. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 23! Neither Maillard nor Vice-President can restrain them, except within wide limits ; not even, except for minutes, can the Hon- voice of Mirabeau, though they applaud it : but ever and anon they break-in upon the regeneration of France with cries of: " Bread ; not so much discoursing ! Dii pain; pas taut de longs discours! " — So insensible were these poor creatures to bursts of parliamentary eloquence ! One learns also that the royal Carriages are getting yoked, as if for Metz. Carriages, royal or not, have verily showed themselves at the back Gates. They even produced, or quoted, a written order from our Versailles Municipality, — which is a Monarchic not a Democratic one. However, Versailles Patrols drove them in again ; as the vigilant Lecointre had strictly charged them to do. A busy man, truly, is Major Lecointre, in these hours. For Colonel d'Estaing loiters invisible in the CEil-de-Boeuf ; in- visible, or still more questionably visible for instants : then also a too loyal Municipality requires supervision : no order, civil or military, taken about any of these thousand things ! Le- cointre is at the Versailles Townhall : he is at the Grate of the Grand Court ; communing with Swiss and Bodyguards. He is in the ranks of Flandre ; he is here, he is there : studious to prevent bloodshed ; to prevent the Royal Family from flying to Metz ; the Menads from plundering Versailles. At the fall of night, we behold him advance to those armed groups of Saint-Antoine, hovering ail-too grim near the Salle des Menus. The receive him in a half-circle ; twelve speakers behind cannons with lighted torches in hand, the cannon- mouths toivards Lecointre: a picture for Salvator! He asks, in temperate but courageous language : What they, by this their journey to Versailles, do specially want ? The twelve speakers reply, in few words inclusive of much : " Bread, and the end of these brabbles ; Dn pain, ct la Hn des affaires.'" When the affairs will end, no Major Lecointre, nor no mortal, can say; but as to bread, he inquires, How many arc you? — learns that they are six hundred, that a loaf each will suffice ; and rides off to the Municipality to get six hundred loaves. Which loaves, however, a Municipality of Monarchic temper will not give. It will give two tons of rice rather, — could you but know whether it should be boiled or raw. Nay when this too is accepted, the Municipals have disappeared ; — ducked 232 CARLYLE [1789 under, as the Six-and-twenty Long-gowned of Paris did ; and, leaving not the smallest vestige of rice, in the boiled or raw state, they there vanish from History ! Rice comes not ; one's hope of food is balked ; even one's hope of vengeance: is not M. de Moucheton of the Scotch Company, as we said, deceitfully smuggled ofif? Failing all which, behold only M. de Moucheton's slain war-horse, lying on the Esplanade there! Saint-Antoine, balked, esurient, pounces on the slain war-horse ; flays it ; roasts it, with such fuel, of paling, gates, portable timber as can be come at, not without shouting; and, after the manner of ancient Greek Heroes, they lifted their hands to the daintily readied repast; such as it might be.^ Other Rascality prowls discursive ; seek- ing what it may devour. Flandre will retire to its barracks ; Lecointre also with his Versaillese, — all but the vigilant Patrols, charged to be doubly vigilant. So sink the shadows of night, blustering, rainy ; and all paths grow dark. Strangest Night ever seen in these regions, — perhaps since the Bartholomew Night, when Versailles, as Bassompierre writes of it, was a chetif chateau. O for the Lyre of some Orpheus, to constrain, with touch of melodious strings, these mad masses into Order ! For here all seems fallen asunder, in wide-yawning dislocation. The highest, as in down-rushing of a World, is come in contact with the lowest : the Rascality of France beleaguering the Royalty of France ; " ironshod batons " lifted round the diadem, not to guard it ! With denunciations of bloodthirsty Anti-National Body- guards, are heard dark growlings against a Queenly Name. The Court sits tremulous, powerless ; varies with the vary- ing temper of the Esplanade, with the varying color of the rumors from Paris. Thick-coming rumors ; now of peace, now of war. Necker and all the Ministers consult ; with a blank issue. The CEil-de-Boeuf is one tempest of whispers : — We will fly to Metz ; we will not fly. The royal Carriages again attempt egress, — though for trial merely ; they are again driven in by Lecointre's Patrols. In six hours nothing has been resolved on ; not even the Acceptance pure and simple. In six hours? Alas, he who, in such circumstances, cannot resolve in six minutes, may give up the enterprise : him Fate has already resolved for. And Menadism, meanwhile, and e Weber ; Deux- Amis, &c. October 5th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 233 Sansculottism takes counsel with the National Assembly ; grows more and more tumultuous there. Mounier returns not ; Authority nowhere shows itself : the Authority of France lies, for the present, with Lecointre and Usher Maillard. — This then is the abomination of desolation ; come suddenly, though long foreshadowed as inevitable ! For, to the blind, all things are sudden. Misery which, through long ages, had no spokesman, no helper, will now be its own helper and speak for itself. The dialect, one of the rudest, is, what it could be, this. At eight o'clock there returns to our Assembly not the Depu- tation ; but Doctor Guillotin announcing that it will return ; also that there is hope of the Acceptance pure and simple. He himself has brought a Royal Letter, authorizing and command- ing the freest " circulation of grains." Which Royal Letter Menadism with its whole heart applauds. Conformably to which the Assembly forthwith passes a Decree ; also received with rapturous Menadic plaudits : — Only could not an august Assembly contrive farther to " fix the price of bread at eight sous the half-quartern ; butchers'-meat at six sous the pound ; " which seem fair rates ? Such motion do " a multitude of men and women," irrepressible by Usher Maillard, now make ; does an august Assembly hear made. Usher Maillard himself is not always perfectly measured in speech ; but if rebuked, he can justly excuse himself by the peculiarity of the circum- stances.^ But finally, this Decree well passed, and the disorder con- tinuing ; and Members melting away, and no President Mounier returning, — what can the Vice-President do but also melt away? The Assembly melts, under such pressure, into deliquium ; or, as it is of^cially called, adjourns. Maillard is despatched to Paris, with the " Decree concerning Grains " in his pocket; he and some women, in carriages belonging to the King. Thitherward slim Louison Chabray has already set forth, with that " written answer " which the Twelve She- deputies returned in to seek. Slim sylph, she has set forth, through the black muddy country: she has much to tell, her poor nerves so flurried ; and travels, as indeed to-day on this road all persons do, with extreme slowness. President Mounier has not come, nor tlic Acceptance pure and simple ; f Moniteur (in Hist. Pari. iii. 105). 234 CARLYLE [1789 though six hours with their events have come ; though courier on courier reports that Lafayette is coming. Coming, with war or with peace? It is time that the Chateau also should de- termine on one thing or another ; that the Chateau also should show itself alive, if it would continue living! Victorious, joyful after such delay, Mounier does arrive at last, and the hard-earned Acceptance with him ; which now, alas, is of small value. Fancy Mounier's surprise to find his Senate, whom he hoped to charm by the Acceptance pure and simple, all gone ; and in its stead a Senate of Menads ! For as Erasmus's Ape mimicked, say with wooden splint, Erasmus shaving, so do these Amazons hold, in mock majesty, some confused parody of National Assembly. They make motions ; deliver speeches ; pass enactments ; productive at least of loud laughter. All galleries and benches are filled ; a Strong Dame of the Market is in Mounier's Chair. Not without difficulty, Mounier, by aid of macers and persuasive speaking, makes his way to the Female-President ; the Strong Dame, before ab- dicating, signifies that, for one thing, she and indeed her whole senate male and female (for what was one roasted war-horse among so many ?) are suffering very considerably from hunger. Experienced Mounier, in these circumstances, takes a two- fold resolution : To reconvoke his Assembly Members by sound of drum ; also to procure a supply of food. Swift messengers fly, to all bakers, cooks, pastrycooks, vintners, restorers ; drums beat, accompanied with shrill vocal proclamation, through all streets. They come : the Assembly Members come ; what is still better, the provisions come. On tray and barrow come these latter ; loaves, wine, great store of sausages. The nour- ishing baskets circulate harmoniously along the benches ; nor, according to the Father of Epics, did any soul lack a fair share of victual {BalTOensed with ! To such length has modern machinery reached. Bankruptcy, we said, was great ; but indeed Money itself is a standing miracle. On the whole, it is a matter of endless difficulty, that of the Clergy. Clerical property may be made the Nation's, Vol. I.— 17 258 CARLYLE [1789—96 and the Clergy hired servants of the State ; but if so, is it not an altered Church? Adjustment enough, of the most con- fused sort, has become unavoidable. Old landmarks, in any sense, avail not in a new France. Nay literally, the very Ground is new divided ; your old particolored Provinces be- come new uniform Departments Eighty-three in number; — whereby, as in some sudden shifting of the Earth's axis, no mortal knows his new latitude at once. The Twelve old Parlements too, what is to be done with them? The old Parlements are declared to be all " in permanent vacation," — till once the new equal-justice, of Departmental Courts, National Appeal-Court, of elective Justices, Justices of Peace, and other Thouret-and-Duport apparatus be got ready. They have to sit there, these old Parlements, uneasily waiting; as it were, with the rope round their neck ; crying as they can. Is there none to deliver us? But happily the answer being, None, none, they are a manageable class, these Parlements. They can be bullied, even, into silence ; the Paris Parlement, wiser than most, has never whimpered. They will and must sit there, in such vacation as is fit ; their Chamber of Vaca- tion distributes in the interim what little justice is going. With the rope round their neck, their destiny may be suc- cinct ! On the 13th of November 1790, Mayor Bailly shall , walk to the Palais de Justice, few even heeding him; and with municipal seal stamp and a little hot wax, seal up the Parlementary Paper-rooms, — and the dread Parlement of Paris pass away, into Chaos, gently as does a Dream ! So shall the Parlements perish, succinctly ; and innumerable eyes be dry. \ Not so the Clergy. For, granting even that Religion were dead ; that it had died, half-centuries ago, with unutterable Dubois ; or emigrated lately to Alsace, with Necklace-Cardinal Rohan ; or that it now walked as goblin revcnant, with Bishop Talleyrand of Autun ; yet does not the Shadow of Religion, the Cant of Religion, still linger? The Clergy have means and material : means, of number, organization, social weight ; a material, at lowest, of public ignorance, known to be the mother of devotion. Nay withal, is it incredible that there might, in simple hearts, latent here and there like gold-grains in the mud-beach, still dwell some real Faith in God, of so singular and tenacious a sort that even a Maury or a Talley- rand could still be the symbol for it? — Enough, the Clergy 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 259 has strength, the Clergy has craft and indignation. It is a most fatal business this of the Clergy. A weltering hydra-coil, which the National Assembly has stirred up about its ears ; hissing, stinging; which cannot be appeased, alive; which cannot be trampled dead ! Fatal, from first to last ! Scarcely after fifteen months' debating, can a Ciz'il Constitution of the Clergy be so much as got to paper ; and then for getting it into reality? Alas, such Civil Constitution is but an agree- ment to disagree. It divides France from end to end, with a new split, infinitely complicating all the other splits : — Catholi- cism, what of it there is left, with the Cant of Catholicism, raging on the one side, and sceptic Heathenism on the other ; both, by contradiction, waxing fanatic. What endless jarring, of Refractory hated Priests, and Constitutional despised ones ; of tender consciences, like the King's, and consciences hot- seared, like certain of his People's : the whole to end in Feasts of Reason and a War of La Vendee ! So deep-seated is Religion in the heart of man, and holds of all infinite pas- sions. If the dead echo of it still did so much, what could not the living voice of it once do? Finance and Constitution, Law and Gospel : this surely were work enough ; yet this is not all. In fact, the Ministry, and Necker himself, whom a brass inscription, " fastened by the people over his door-lintel," testifies to be the " Ministre adore " are dwindling into clearer and clearer nullity. Execu- tion or legislation, arrangement or detail, from their nerve- less fingers all drops undone ; all lights at last on the toiled shoulders of an august Representative Body. Heavy-laden National Assembly ! It has to hear of innumerable fresh re- volts. Brigand expeditions ; of Chateaus in the West, espe- cially of Charter-Chests, Chartiers, set on fire ; for there too the overloaded Ass frightfully recalcitrates. Of Cities in the South full of heats and jealousies ; which will end in crossed sabres, Marseilles against Toulon, and Carpentras beleaguered by Avignon ; — of so much Royalist collision in a career of Freedom ; nay of Patriot collision, which a more difiference of velocity will bring about ! Of a Jourdan Coup-tete, who has skulked thitherward, to those southern regions, from the claws of the Chatclet ; and will raise whole scoundrel regiments. Also it has to hear of Royalist Camp of Jalcs: Jales, moun- tain-girdled Plain, amid the rocks of the Cevennes ; whence 26o CARLYLE [1789—90 Royalism, as is feared and hoped, may dash down hke a mountain dekige, and submerge France ! A singular thing this Camp of Jales ; existing mostly on paper. For the Soldiers at Jales, being peasants or National Guards, were in heart sworn Sansculottes; and all that the Royalist Captains could do, was, with false words, to keep them, or rather keep the report of them, drawn up there, visible to all imagina- tions, for a terror and a sign, — if peradventure France might be reconquered by theatrical machinery, by the picture of a Royalist Army done to the life !a Not till the third summer was this portent, burning out by fits and then fading, got finally extinguished ; was the old Castle of Jales, no Camp being visible to the bodily eye, got blown asunder by some National Guards. Also it has to hear not only of Brissot and his Friends of the Blacks, but by and by of a whole St. Domingo blazing skyward ; blazing in literal fire, and in far worse metaphorical ; beaconing the nightly main. Also of the shipping interest, and the landed interest, and all manner of interests, reduced to distress. Of Industry everywhere manacled, bewildered ; and only Rebellion thriving. Of sub-officers, soldiers and sailors in mutiny by land and water. Of soldiers, at Nanci, as we shall see, needing to be cannonaded by brave Bouille. Of sailors, nay the very galley-slaves, at Brest, needing also to be cannonaded, but with no Bouille to do it. For indeed, to say it in a word, in those days there was no King in Israel, and every man did that which was right in his own eyes.^ Such things has an august National Assembly to hear of, as it goes on regenerating France. Sad and stern: but what remedy ? Get the Constitution ready ; and all men will swear to it : for do not " Addresses of adhesion " arrive by the cart- load? In this manner, by Heaven's blessing, and a Constitu- tion got ready, shall the bottomless fire-gulf be vaulted in, with rag-paper ; and Order will wed Freedom, and live with her there, — till it grow too hot for them. O Cote Gauche, worthy are ye, as the adhesive Addresses generally say, to " fix the a Dampmartin, Evencmens, i. 208. b See Deux Amis, iii. c. 14; iv. c. 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, T4. EA-^edition des Volontaircs dc Brest sur Lannion; Les Lyounais Sanveurs des Daii- phinois; Massacre au Mans; Troubles du Maine (Pamphlets and Ex- cerpts, in Hist. Pari. iii. 251; iv. 162-168), &c. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 261 regards of the Universe ;" the regards of this one poor Planet, at lowest ! — Nay, it must be owned, the Cote Droit makes a still madder figure. An irrational generation ; irrational, imbecile, and with the vehement obstinacy characteristic of that ; a generation which will not learn. Falling Bastilles, Insurrections of Women, thousands of smoking Manorhouses, a country brist- ling with no crop but that of Sansculottic steel: these were tolerably didactic lessons ; but them they have not taught. There are still men, of whom it was of old written, Bray them in a mortar ! Or, in milder language. They have zveddcd their delusions: fire nor steel, nor any sharpness of Experi- ence, shall sever the bond ; till death do us part ! On such may the Heavens have mercy ; for the Earth, with her rigorous Necessity, will have none. Admit, at the same time, that it was most natural. Man lives by Hope: Pandora, when her box of gods'-gifts flew all out, and became gods'-curses, still retained Hope. How shall an irrational mortal, when his highplace is never so evidently pulled down, and he, being irrational, is left resourceless, part with the belief that it will be rebuilt? It would make all so straight again ; it seems so unspeakably desirable ; so reason- able, — would you but look at it aright ! For, must not the thing which was continue to be ; or else the solid World dis- solve ? Yes, persist, O infatuated Sansculottes of France ! Re- volt against constituted Authorities ; hunt out your rightful Seigneurs, who at bottom so loved you, and readily shed their blood for you, — in country's battles as at Rossbach and else- where ; and, even in preserving game, were preserving you, could ye but have understood it: hunt them out, as if they were wild wolves ; set fire to their Chateaus and Chartiers as to wolf-dens; and what then? Why, then turn every man his hand against his fellow ! In confusion, famine, desolation, regret the days that are gone ; ruefully recall them, recall us with them. To repentant prayers we will not be deaf. So, with dimmer or clearer consciousness, must the Right Side reason and act. An inevitable position perhaps ; but a most false one for them. Evil, be thou our good: this hence- forth must virtually be their prayer. The fiercer the eflferves- cence grows, the sooner will it pass; for. after all, it is but some mad effervescence ; the World is solid, and cannot dis- solve. 262 CARLYLE [1789—90 For the rest, if they have any positive industry, it is that of plots, and backstairs conclaves. Plots which cannot be executed ; which are mostly theoretic on their part ; — for which nevertheless this and the other practical Sieur Augeard, Sieur Maillebois, Sieur Bonne Savardin, gets into trouble, gets imprisoned, and escapes with difficulty. Nay there is a poor practical Chevalier Favras, who, not without some pass- ing reflex on Monsieur himself, gets hanged for them, amid loud uproar of the world. Poor Favras, he keeps dictating his last wall " at the H6tel-de-Ville, through the whole remainder of the day," a weary February day ; offers to reveal secrets, if they will save him ; handsomely declines since they will not ; then dies, in the flare of torchlight, with politest composure ; remarking, rather than exclaiming, with out- spread hands : " People, I die innocent ; pray for me."<^ Poor Favras ; — type of so much that has prowled indefatigable over France, in days now ending; and, in freer field, might have earned instead of prowling, — to thee it is no theory ! In the Senate-house again, the attitude of the Right Side is that of calm unbelief. Let an august National Assembly make a Fourth-of- August Abolition of Feudality ; declare the Clergy State-servants, who shall have wages ; vote Suspensive Vetos, new Law-Courts ; vote or decree what contested thing it will ; have it responded to from the four corners of France, nay get King's Sanction, and wdiat other Acceptance were conceivable, — the Right Side, as we find, persists, with im- perturbablest tenacity, in considering, and ever and anon shows that it still considers, all these so-called Decrees as mere temporary whims, which indeed stand on paper, but in practice and fact are not, and cannot be. Figure the brass head of an Abbe Maury flooding forth Jesuitic eloquence in this strain ; dusky D'Espremenil, Barrel Mirabcau (probably in liquor), and enough of others, cheering him from the Right ; and, for example, with what visage a seagreen Robespierre eyes him from the Left. And how Sieyes ineffably sniffs on him, or does not deign to sniff; and how the Galleries groan in spirit, or bark rabid on him ; so that to escape the Lan- terne, on stepping forth, he needs presence of mind, and a pair of pistols in his girdle! For he is one of the toughest of men. c See Deux Amis, iv. c. 14, 7; Hist. Pari. vi. 384. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 263 Here indeed becomes notable one great difference between our two kinds of civil war ; between the modern lingual or Parliamentary-logical kind, and the ancient or manual kind in the steel battlefield; — so much to the disadvantage of the former. In the manual kind, where you front you foe with drawn weapon, one right stroke is final ; for, physically speak- ing, when the brains are out the man does honestly die, and trouble you no more. But how different when it is with arguments you fight ! Here no victory yet definable can be considered as final. Beat him down with Parliamentary in- vective, till sense be fled ; cut him in two, hanging one half on this dilemma-horn, the other on that ; blow the brains or thinking-faculty quite out of him for the time : it skills not ; he rallies and revives on the morrow ; to-morrow he repairs his golden fires ! The thing that zvill logically extinguish him is perhaps still a desideratum in Constitutional civilization. For how, till a man know, in some measure, at what point he becomes logically defunct, can Parliamentary Business be carried on, and Talk cease or slake? Doubtless it was some feeling of this difficulty ; and the clear insight how little such knowledge yet existed in the French Nation, new in the Constitutional career, and how defunct Aristocrats would continue to w^alk for unlimited periods, as Partridge the Almanac-maker did, — that had sunk into the deep mind of People's-friend Marat, an eminently practical mind ; and had grown there, in that richest putres- cent soil, into the most original plan of action ever submitted to a People. Not yet has it grown ; but it has germinated, it is growing; rooting itself into Tartarus, branching towards Heaven: the second season hence, we shall see it risen out of the bottomless Darkness, full-grown, into disastrous Twi- light, — a Hemlock-tree, great as the world ; on or under whose boughs all the People's-fricnds of the world may lodge. " Two hundred and Sixty thousand Aristocrat heads : " that is the precisest calculation, though one would not stand on a few hundreds ; yet we never rise as high as the round Three hun- dred thousand. Shudder at it, O People ; but it is as true as that ye yourselves, and your People's-friend, are alive. These prating Senators of yours hover ineffectual on the barren letter, and will never save the Revolution. A Cassandra- Marat cannot do it, with his single shrunk arm ; but with a 264 CARLYLE [1789-90 few determined men it were possible. " Give me," said the People's-friend, in his cold way, when young Barbaroux, once his pupil in a course of what was called Optics, went to see him, " Give me two hundred Naples Bravoes, armed each with a good dirk, and a muff on his left arm by way of shield: with them I will traverse France, and accomplish the Revolution. "a Nay, be brave, young Barbaroux; for thou seest there is no jesting in those rheumy eyes, in that soot-bleared figure, most earnest of created things; neither indeed is there madness, of the strait-waistcoat sort. Such produce shall the Time ripen in cavernous Marat, the man forbid ; living in Paris cellars, lone as fanatic Anchorite in his Thebaid ; say, as far-seen Simon on his Pillar, — taking peculiar views therefrom. Patriots may smile ; and, using him as bandog now to be muzzled, now to be let bark, name him, as Desmoulins does " Maximum of Patriotism " and " Cassandra-Marat :" but were it not singular if this dirk- and-muff plan of his (with superficial modifications) proved to be precisely the plan adopted? After this manner, in these circumstances, do august Sena- tors regenerate France. Nay, they are, in very deed, believed to be regenerating it ; on account of which great fact, main fact of their history, the wearied eye can never be permitted wholly to ignore them. But, looking away now from these precincts of the Tuile- ries, where Constitutional Royalty, let Lafayette water it as he will, languishes too like a cut branch ; and august Senators are perhaps at bottom only perfecting their " theory of defec- tive verbs," — ^how does the yotmg Reality, young Sansculottism thrive ? The attentive observer can answer : It thrives bravely ; putting forth new buds ; expanding the old buds into leaves, into boughs. Is not French Existence, as before, most pru- rient, all loosened, most nutrient for it? Sansculottism has the property of growing by what other things die of: by agitation, contention, disarrangement; nay in a word, by what is the symbol and fruit of all these: Hunger. In such a France as this, Hunger, as we have remarked, can hardly fail. The Provinces, the Southern Cities feel it in their turn ; and what it brings : Exasperation, preternatural Suspicion. In Paris some halcyon days of abundance fol- aMemoircs dc Barbaroux (Paris, 1822), p. 57. October 2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 265 lowed the Menaclic Insurrection, with its Versailles grain- carts, and recovered Restorer of Liberty ; but they could not continue. The month is still October, when famishing Saint- Antoine, in a moment of passion, seizes a poor Baker, in- nocent " Frangois the Baker ;"ft and hangs him, in Constan- tinople wise ; — but even this, singular as it may seem, does not cheapen bread ! Too clear it is, no Royal bounty, no Municipal dexterity can adequately feed a Bastille-destroying Paris. Wherefore, on view of the hanged Baker, Constitu- tionalism in sorrow and anger demands " Loi Martiale," a kind of Riot Act ; — and indeed gets it most readily, almost before the sun goes down. This is that famed Martial Law, with its Red Flag, its " Drapcan Rouge," in virtue of which Mayor Bailly, or any Mayor, has but henceforth to hang out that new Oriflamme of his ; then to read or mumble something about the King's peace ; and, after certain pauses, serve any undispersing As- semblage with musket-shot, or whatever shot will disperse it. A decisive Law; and most just on one proviso: that all Patrollotism be of God, and all mob-assembling be of the Devil; — otherwise not so just. Mayor Bailly, be unwilling to use it! Hang not out that new Oriflamme, flame not of gold but of the want of gold! The thrice-blessed Revolution is done, thou thinkest? If so, it will be well with thee. But now let no mortal say henceforth that an august Na- tional Assembly wants riot : all it ever wanted was riot enough to balance Court-plotting; all it now wants, of Heaven or of Earth, is to get its theory of defective verbs perfected. Chapter IIL— The Muster. With famine and a Constitutional theory of defective verbs -1 going on, all other excitement is conceivable. A universal shaking and sifting of French Existence this is: in the course of which, for one thing, what a multitude of low-lying figures are sifted to the top, and set busily to work there ! Dogleech Marat, now far-seen as Simon Stylites, we already know ; him and others, raised aloft. The mere sample these of what is coming, of what continues coming, upwards from 621st October 1789 {Monitcur, No. 76). 2 66 CARLYLE [1789-90 the realm of Night! — Chaumette, by and by Anaxagoras Chaumette, one already descries : meUifluous in street-groups ; not now a seaboy on the high and giddy mast: a meUifluous tribune of the common people, with long curling locks, on bournestone. of the thoroughfares; able sub-editor too; who shall rise, — to the very gallows. Clerk Tallien, he also is become sub-editor; shall become able-editor; and more. Bib- liopolic Momoro, Typographic Prudhomme see new trades opening. Collot d'Herbois, tearing a passion to rags, pauses on the Thespian boards; listens, with that black bushy head, to the sound of the world's drama: shall the Mimetic become Real? Did ye hiss him, O men of Lyons ?c Better had ye clapped ! Happy now, indeed, for all manner of mimetic, half -original men ! Tumid blustering, with more or less of sincerity, which need not be entirely sincere, yet the sincerer the better, is like to go far. Shall we say, the Revolutioni-element works itself rarer and rarer; so that only lighter and lighter bodies will float in it; till at last the mere blown-bladder is your only swimmer? Limitation of mind, then vehemence, prompti- tude, audacity, shall all be available; to which add only these two : cunning and good lungs. Good fortune must be presup- posed. Accordingly, of all classes the rising one, we observe, is now the Attorney class : witness Bazires, Carriers, Fouquier- Tinvilles, Basoche-Captain Bourdons: more than enough. Such figures shall Night, from her wonder-bearing bosom, emit ; swarm after swarm. Of another deeper and deepest swarm, not yet dawned on the astonished eye ; of pilfering Candle-snuffers, Thief-valets, disfrocked Capuchins, and so many Heberts, Henriots, Ronsins, Rossignols, let us, as long as possible, forbear speaking. Thus, over France, all stirs that has what the Physiologists call irritabiliiy in it: how much more all wherein irritability has perfected itself into vitality, into actual vision, and force that can will! All stirs; and if not in Paris, flocks thither. Great and greater waxes President Danton in his Cordeliers Section ; his rhetorical tropes are all " gigantic : " energy flashes from his black brows, menaces in his athletic figure, rolls in the sound of his voice "reverberating from the domes:" this man also, like Mirabeau, has a natural eye, and begins to see c Buzot, Mcmoircs (Paris, 1823), p. 90. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 267 whither ConstitutionaHsm is tending, though with a wish in it different from Mirabeau's. Remark, on the other hand, how General Dumouriez has quitted Normandy and the Cherbourg Breakwater, to come — whither we may guess. It is his second or even third trial at Paris, since this New Era began ; but now it is in right earnest, for he has quitted all else. Wiry, elastic, unwearied man; whose life w-as but a battle and a march! No, not a creature of Choiseul's ; " the creature of God and of my sword," — he fiercely answered in old days. Overfalling Corsican batteries,^ . in the deadly fire-hail ; wriggling invincible from under his horse, at Closterkamp of the Netherlands, though tethered with " crushed stirrup-iron and nineteen wounds ; " tough, minatory, standing at bay, as forlorn hope, on the skirts of Poland ; intriguing, battling in cabinet and field ; roaming far out, obscure, as King's spial, or sitting sealed up, enchanted in Bastille ; fencing, pamphleteering, scheming and struggling from the very birth of h\m,d — the man has come thus far. How repressed, how irrepressible ! Like some incarnate spirit in prison, which indeed he zvas; hewing on granite walls for deliverance ; striking fire-flashes from them. And now has the general earthquake rent his cavern too ? Twenty years younger, what might he not have done ! But his hair has a shade of gray ; his way of thought is all fixed, military. He can grow no further, and the new world is in such growth. We will name him, on the whole, one of Heaven's Swiss ; without faith ; wanting above all things work, work on any side. Work also is appointed him ; and he will do it. Not from over France only are the unrestful flocking to- wards Paris ; but from all sides of Europe. Where the car- cass is, thither will the eagles gather. Think how many a Spanish Guzman, Martinico Fournier named " Fournicr I' Americain," Engineer Miranda from the very Andes, were flocking or had flocked. Walloon Pcreyra might boast of the strangest parentage: him, they say. Prince Kaunitz the Diplo- matist heedlessly dropped ; like ostrich-egg, to be hatched of Chance, — into an ostrich-ra^rr/ Jewish or German Freys do business in the great Cesspool of Agio; which Cesspool this Assignat-fvdii has quickened, into a Mother of dead dogs. Swiss Claviere could found no Socinian Gcnevese Colony in d Dumouriez, Memoires, i. 28, &c. 268 CARLYLE [1789—90 Ireland ; but he paused, years ago, prophetic, before the Minis- ter's Hotel at Paris ; and said, it was borne on his mind that he one day was to be Minister, and laughed.^ Swiss Pache, on the other hand, sits sleekheaded, frugal ; the wonder of his own alley, and even of neighboring ones, for humility of mind, and a thought deeper than most men's : sit there, Tartuffe, till wanted ! Ye Italian Dufournys, Flemish Prolys, flit hither all ye bipeds of prey ! Come whosesoever head is hot ; thou of mind nngoverned, be it chaos as of undevelopment or chaos as of ruin ; the man who cannot get known, the man who is too well known ; if thou have any vendible faculty, nay if thou have but edacity and loquacity, come ! They come ; with hot unutterabilities in their heart ; as Pilgrims towards a miraculous shrine. Nay how many come as vacant Strollers, aimless, of whom Europe is full, merely towards something! For benighted fowls, when you beat their bushes, rush to- wards any light. Thus Frederick Baron Trenck too is here ; mazed, purblind, from the cells of Magdeburg; Minotauric cells, and his Ariadne lost ! Singular to say, Trenck, in these years, sells wine ; not indeed in bottle, but in wood. Nor is our England without her missionaries. She has her life-saving Needham / to whom was solemnly presented a " civic sword," — long since rusted into nothingness. Her Paine : rebellious Staymaker ; unkempt ; who feels that he, a single Needleman, did, by his Common-Sense Pamphlet, free America ; — that he can and will free all this World ; perhaps even the other. Price-Stanhope Constitutional Association sends over to congratulate •,g welcomed by National Assembly, though they are but a London Club ; whom Burke and Tory- ism eye askance. On thee too, for country's sake, O Chevalier John Paul, be a word spent, or misspent ! In faded naval uniform, Paul Jones lingers visible here ; like a wineskin from which the wine is all drawn. Like the ghost of himself! Low is his e Dumont, Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, p. 399. f A trustworthy gentleman writes to me, three years ago. with a feel- ing which I cannot hut respect, that his Fatlicr, " thc_ late Admiral Nesham " (not Ncrdhaiu, as the French Journalists give it) is the Eng- lishman meant; and furthermore that the sword is "not rusted at all," but still lies, with the due memory attached to it, in his (the son's) possession, at Plymouth, in a clear state. (Note of 1857.) g Monitcur, 10 Novembre, 7 Dccembre, 1789. 1789-90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 269 once loud bruit ; scarcely audible, save, with extreme tedium, in ministerial antechambers, in this or the other charitable dining-room, mindful of the past. What changes ; culminat- ings and declinings ! Not now, poor Paul, thou lookest wist- ful over the Solway brine, by the foot of native Crififel, into blue mountainous Cumberland, into blue Infinitude ; environed with thrift, with humble friendliness ; thyself, young fool, longing to be aloft from it, or even to be away from it. Yes, beyond that sapphire Promontory, which men name St. Bees, which is not sapphire either, but dull sandstone, when one gets close to it, there is a world. Which world thou too shalt taste of ! — From yonder White Haven rise his smoke-clouds ; ominous though ineffectual. Proud Forth quakes at his belly- ing sails ; had not the wind suddenly shifted. Flamborough reapers, homegoing, pause on the hill-side : for what sulphur- cloud is that that defaces the sleek sea ; sulphur-cloud spitting streaks of fire? A sea cock-fight it is, and of the hottest; where British Serapis and French-American Bonne Homme Richard do lash and throttle each other, in their fashion ; and lo the desperate valor has suffocated the deliberate, and Paul Jones too is of the Kings of the Sea ! The Euxine, the Meotian waters felt thee next, and long- skirted Turks, O Paul ; and thy fiery soul has wasted itself in thousand contradictions ; — to no purpose. For, in far lands, with scarlet Nassau-Siegens, with sinful Imperial Catherines, is not the heart broken, even as at home with the mean? Poor Paul ! hunger and dispiritment track thy sinking foot- steps : once, or at most twice, in this Revolution-tumult the figure of thee emerges ; mute, ghostlike, as " with stars dim- twinkling through." And then, when the light is gone quite out, a National Legislature grants " ceremonial funeral " ! As good had been the natural Presbyterian Kirk-bell, and six feet of Scottish earth, among the dust of thy loved ones. — Such world lay beyond the Promontory of St. Bees. Such is the life of sinful mankind here below. But of all strangers far the notablcst for us is Baron Jean Baptiste de Clootz ; — or, dropping baptisms and feudalisms, World-Citizen Anacharsis Clootz, from Cleves. Him mark, judicious Reader. Thou hast known his uncle, sharp-sighted, thorough-going Cornelius de Pauw, who mercilessly cuts down cherished illusions ; and of the finest antique vSpartans will 270 CARLYLE [1789—90 make mere modern cutthroat Mainots.^J The Hke stuff is in Anacharsis : hot metal ; full of scoriae, which should and could have been smelted out, but which will not. He has wandered over this terraqueous Planet ; seeking, one may say, the Paradise we lost long ago. He has seen English Burke; has been seen of the Portugal Inquisition ; has roamed, and fought, and written ; is writing, among other things, " Evi- dences of the Mahometan Religion." But now, like his Scythian adoptive godfather, he finds himself in the Paris Athens; surely, at last, the haven of his soul. A dashing man, beloved at Patriotic dinner-tables ; with gaiety, nay with humor; headlong, trenchant, of free purse; in suitable cos- tume ; though what mortal ever more despised costumes ? Under all costumes Anacharsis seeks the man ; not Stylites Marat will more freely trample costumes, if they hold no man. This is the faith of Anacharsis : That there is a Para- dise discoverable ; that all costumes ought to hold men. O Anacharsis, it is a headlong, swift-going faith. Mounted thereon, meseems, thou art bound hastily for the City of No- where; and wilt arrive! At best, we may say, arrive in good riding attitude; which indeed is something. So many new persons and new things have come to occupy this France. Her old Speech and Thought, and Ac- tivity which springs from these, are all changing; ferment- ing towards unknown issues. To the dullest peasant, as he sits sluggish, overtoiled, by his evening hearth, one idea has come : that of Chateaus burnt ; of Chateaus combustible. How altered all Coffeehouses, in Province or Capital ! The Autre de Procope has now other questions than the Three Stagyrite Unities to settle ; not theatre-controversies, but a world-con- troversy: there, in the ancient pigtail mode, or with modern Brutus' heads, do well-frizzed logicians hold hubbub, and Chaos umpire sits. The ever-enduring melody of Paris Saloons has got a new ground-tone : ever-enduring ; which has been heard, and by the listening Heaven too, since Julian the Apos- tate's time and earlier ; mad now as formerly. Ex-Censor Suard, iiA'-Censor, for we have freedom of the Press ; he may be seen there ; impartial, even neutral. Tyrant Grimm rolls large eyes, over a questionable coming Time. Atheist Naigeon, beloved-disciple of Diderot, crows, in his h De Pauw, Recherches stir les Crecs, &c. 1789-90J THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 271 small difficult way, heralding glad dawn.' But on the other hand, how many Morellets, Marmontels, who had sat all their life hatching Philosophe eggs, cackle now, in a state border- ing on distraction, at the brood they have brought out \j It was so delightful to have one's Philosophe Theorem demon- strated, crowned in the saloons : and now an infatuated people will not continue speculative, but have Practice ! There also observe Preceptress Genlis, or Sillery, or Sillery- Genlis, — for our husband is both Count and Marquis, and we have more than one title. Pretentious, frothy ; a puritan yet creedless ; darkening counsel by words without wisdom ! For, it is in that thin element of the Sentimentalist and Distin- guished-Female that Sillery-Genlis works ; she would gladly be sincere, yet can grow no sincerer than sincere-cant : sin- cere-cant of many forms, ending in the devotional form. For the present, on a neck still of moderate whiteness, she wears as jewel a miniature Bastille, cut on mere sandstone, but then actual Bastille sandstone. M. le Marquis is one of D'Or- leans's errand-men ; in National Assembly, and elsewhere. Madame, for her part, trains up a youthful D'Orleans gen- eration in what superfinest morality one can ; gives meanwhile rather enigmatic account of fair Mademoiselle Pamela, the Daughter whom she has adopted. Thus she, in Palais-Royal Saloon ; — whither, we remark, D'Orleans himself, spite of La- fayette, has returned from that English "mission" of his: surely no pleasant mission : for the English would not speak to him ; and Saint Hannah More of England, so unlike Saint Sillery-Genlis of France, saw him shunned, in Vauxhall Gar- dens, like one peststruck,/v' and his red-blue impassive visage waxing hardly a shade blvier. Chapter IV. — Journalism. As for Constitutionalism, with its National Guards, it is doing what it can; and has enough to do: it must, as ever, with one hand wave persuasively, repressing Patriotism ; and keep the other clenched to menace Royalist plotters. A most delicate task ; requiring tact. -{ t Naigeon, Adresse a I'Assemblec Nationale (Paris, 1790), sur la liberie dcs opinions. j See MariTKmtel, Memoires, passim; Morellet, Memoires, &c. k Hannah More's Life and Correspondence, ii. c. 5. 272 CARLYLE [1789—90 Thus, if People's-friend Marat has to-day his writ of "prise de corps, or seizure of body," served on him, and dives out of sight, to-morrow he is left at large; or is even encouraged, as a sort of bandog whose baying may be useful. President Danton, in open Hall, with reverberating voice, declares that, in a case like Marat's, " force may be resisted by force." ' Whereupon the Chatelet serves Danton also with a writ; — ; which however, as the whole Cordeliers District responds to it, what Constable will be prompt to execute? Twice more, on new occasions, does the Chatelet launch its writ ; and twice more in vain : the body of Danton cannot be seized by Cha- telet ; he unseized, should he even fly for a season, shall behold the Chatelet itself flung into limbo. Municipality and Brissot, meanwhile, are far on with their Mvmicipal Constitution. The Sixty Districts shall become Forty-eight Sections; much shall be adjusted, and Paris have its Constitution. A Constitution wholly Elective ; as indeed all French Government shall and must be. And yet, one fatal element has been introduced : that of citoyen actif. No man who does not pay the marc d'argent, or yearly tax equal to three-days labor, shall be other than a passive citizen : not the slightest vote for him ; were he acting, all the year round, with sledge-hammer, with forest-levelling axe ! Unheard of ! cry Patriot Journals. Yes truly, my Patriot Friends, if Liberty, the passion and prayer of all men's souls, means Liberty to send your fifty-thousandth part of a new Tongue-fencer into National Debating-club, then, be the gods witness, ye are hardly entreated. O, if in National Palaver (as the Africans name it), such blessedness is verily found, what tyrant would deny it to Son of Adam ! Nay, might there not be a Female Parliament too, with " screams from the Opposition benches," and " the honorable Member borne out in hysterics " ? To a Children's Parliament would I gladly consent ; or even lower if ye wished it. P>eIoved Brothers! Liberty, one may fear, is actually, as the ancient w'ise men said, of Heaven. On this Earth, where, thinks the enlightened public, did a brave little Dame de Staal (not Necker's Daughter, but a far shrewder than she) find the nearest approach to Liberty? After mature computation, cool as Dilworth's, her answer is. In the Bastille. a " Of Heaven ? " answer many, asking. Woe that they should a De Staal, Memoircs (Paris, 1821), i. 169-280. 1789-90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION . 273 ask ; for that is the very misery ! " Of Heaven " means much ; share in the National Palaver it may, or may as probably not mean. One Sansculottic bough that cannot fail to flourish is Jour- nalism. The voice of the People being the voice of God, shall not such divine voice make itself heard? To the ends of France ; and in as many dialects as when the first great Babel was to be built ! Some loud as the lion ; some small as the sucking dove. JMirabeau himself has his instructive Journal or Journals, with Geneva hodmen working in them ; and withal has quarrels enough with Dame le Jay, his Female Bookseller, so ultra-compliant otherwise. ft King's-fricnd Royou still prints himself. Barrere sheds tears of loyal sensibility in Break-of-Day Journal, though with declining sale. But why is Freron so hot, democratic ; Freron, the King's-friend's Nephew? He has it by kind, that heat of his: zvasp Freron begot him; Voltaire's Frclon; who fought stinging, while sting and poison-bag were left, were it only as Reviewer, and over Printed Waste-paper. Constant, illumina- tive, as the nightly lamplighter, issues the useful Moniteur, for it is now become diurnal : with facts and few commentaries ; official, safe in the middle; — its Able Editors sunk long since, recoverably or irrecoverably, in deep darkness. Acid Loustalot, with his " vigor," as of young sloes, shall never ripen, but die untimely : his Prudhomme, however, will not let that Re- volutions de Paris die ; but edit it himself, with much else, — dull-blustering Printer though he be. Of Cassandra-Marat we have spoken often ; yet the mosf | surprising truth remains to be spoken : that he actually does i not want sense ; but, with croaking gelid throat, croaks out j masses of the truth, on several things. Nay sometimes, one might almost fancy he had a perception of humor, and were laughing a little, far down in his inner man. Camillc is wittier than ever, and more outspoken, cynical ; yet sunny as ever. A light melodious creature ; " born," as he shall yet say with ^ bitter tears, " to write verses ;" light Apollo, so clear, soft- lucent, in this war of the Titans, wherein he shall not conquer! Folded and hawked Newspapers exist in all countries ; but. in such a Journalistic element as this of France, other and stranger sorts are to be anticipated. What says the English b Dumont, Souvenirs, 6. Vol. I.— i3 2 74 CARLYLE [1789-90 reader to a Journal-AMche, Placard-Journal; legible to him that has no half-penny ; in bright prismatic colors, calling the eye from afar? Such, in the coming months, as Patriot Associations, public and private, advance, and can subscribe funds, shall plenteously hang themselves out: leaves, limed leaves, to catch what they can! The very Government shall have its Pasted Journal ; Louvet, busy yet with a new " charm- ing romance," shall write Sentinelles, and post them with effect ; nay Bertrand de Moleville, in his extremity, shall still more cunningly try it.c Great is Journalism. Is not every Able Editor a Ruler of the World, being a persuader of it ; though self-elected, yet sanctioned, by the sale of his Numbers? Whom indeed the world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be : that of merely doing nothing to him ; which ends in starvation. Nor esteem it small what those Bill-stickers had to do in Paris : above Threescore of them : all with their crosspoles, haversacks, pastepots ; nay with leaden badges, for the Munic- ipality licenses them. A Sacred College, properly of World- rulers' Heralds, though not respected as such in an Era still incipient and raw. They made the walls of Paris didactic, suasive, with an ever-fresh Periodical Literature, wherein he that ran might read : Placard Journals, Placard Lampoons, Municipal Ordinances, Royal Proclamations ; the whole other or vulgar Placard-department superadded, — or omitted from contempt ! What unutterable things the stone-walls spoke, during these live years ! But it is all gone ; To-day swallow- ing Yesterday, and then being in its turn swallowed of To- morrow, even as Speech ever is. Nay what, O thou immortal Man of Letters, is Writing itself but Speech conserved for a time ? The Placard Journal conserved it for one day ; some Books conserve it for the matter of ten years ; nay some for three thousand: but what then? Why, then, the years being all run, it also dies, and the world is rid of it. O, were there not a spirit in the word of man, as in man himself, that sur- vived the audible bodied word, and tended either godward or else devilward forevermore, why should he trouble himself much with the truth of it, or the falsehood of it, except for commercial purposes? His immortality indeed, and whether it shall last half a lifetime or a lifetime and a half; is not c See Bertrand-Moleville, Mhnoires, ii. 100, &c. 1789-90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 275 that a very considerable thing? Immortality, mortality: — there were certain runaways whom Fritz the Great bullied back into the battle with a : " R — , zvollt ihr ezvig lehcn, Unprintable Off- scouring of Scoundrels, would ye live forever ! " This is the Communication of Thought ; how happy when there is any Thought to communicate ! Neither let the simpler old methods be neglected, in their sphere. The Palais-Royal Tent, a tyrannous PatroUotism has removed ; but can it remove the lungs of man? Anaxagoras Chaumette we saw mounted on bourne-stones, while Tallien worked sedentary at the sub- editorial desk. In any corner of the civilized world, a tub can be inverted, and an articulate-speaking biped mount thereon. Nay, with contrivance, a portable trestle, or folding-stool, can be procured, for love or money ; this the peripatetic Orator can take in his hand, and, driven out here, set it up again there: saying mildly, with a Sage Bias, Oinnia mea mecmn porto. Such is Journalism, hawked, pasted, spoken. How changed since One old Metra walked this same Tuileries Garden, in gilt cocked-hat, with Journal at his nose, or held loose-folded be- hind his back ; and was a notability of Paris, " Metra the News- man ; "d and Louis himself was wont to say: Qii'en dit Metra? Since the first A^enetian News-sheet was sold for a ga::za, or farthing, and named Gazette! We live in a fertile world. Chapter V. — Clubbism. Where the heart is full, it seeks, for a thousand reasons, in a thousand ways, to impart itself. How sweet, indispensable, in such cases, is fellowship ; soul mystically strengthening soul ! The meditative Germans, some think, have been of opinion that Enthusiasm in general means simply excessive Congregating — Schivariucrey, or Szvarming. At any rate, do we not see glim- mering half-red embers, if laid together, get into the brightest white glow ? In such a France, gregarious Reunions will needs multiply, intensify ; French Life will step out of doors, and, from do- mestic, become a public Club Life. Old Clubs, which already germinated, grow and flourish ; new everywhere bud forth. It is the sure symptom of Social LTnrest : in such way. most in- fallibly of all, does Social Unrest exhibit itself; find solaccment, d Dulaure, Histoire de Paris, viii. 483 ; Mercier, Nouveau Paris, &c. * 276 CARLYLE [1789—90 and also nutriment. In every French head there hands now, whether for terror of for hope, some prophetic picture of a New France : prophecy which brings, nay which almost is, its own fulfilment ; and in all ways, consciously and unconsciously, works towards that. Observe, moreover, how the Aggregative Principle, let it be but deep enough, goes on aggregating, and this even in a geometrical progression ; how when the whole world, in such a plastic time, is forming itself into Clubs, some One Club, the strongest or luckiest, shall by friendly attracting, by victorious compelling, grow ever stronger, till it become immeasurably strong ; and all the others, with their strength, be either lovingly absorbed into it, or hostilely abolished by it. This if the Club-"f spirit is universal; if the time is plastic. Plastic enough is the' time, universal the Club-spirit: such an all-absorbing, para- mount One Club cannot be wanting. What a progress, since the first salient-point of the Breton Committee ! It worked long in secret, not languidly ; it has come with the National Assembly to Paris ; calls itself Club; calls itself, in imitation, as is thought, of those generous Price- Stanhope English who sent over to congratulate, French Revo- *■» lutioii Club; but soon, with more originality. Club of Friends of ; the Cousfifution. Moreover it has leased for itself, at a fair^ rent, the Hall of the Jacobins Convent, one of our " superfluous edifices"; and does therefrom now, in these spring months, begin shining out on an admiring Paris. And so, by degrees, under the shorter popular title of Jacobins Club, it shall become memorable to all times and lands. Glance into the interior: strongly yet modestly benched and seated ; as many as Thirteen Hundred chosen Patriots ; Assembly Members not a few. Barnave, the tv-o Lameths are seen there ; occasionally Mira- beau, perpetually Robespierre ; also the ferret-visage of Fouquier-Tinville with other attorneys ; Anacharsis of Prus- sian Scythia, and miscellaneous Patriots, — though all is yet in the most perfectly clean-washed state ; decent, nay dignified. President on platform, President's bell are not wanting ; oratori- cal Tribune high-raised ; nor strangers' galleries, wherein also sit women. Has any French Antiquarian Society preserved that written Lease of the Jacobins Convent Hall? Or was it, unluckicr even than Magna Charta, dipt by sacrilegious Tailors? Universal History is not indifferent to it. 1789-90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 277 These Friends of the Constitution have met mainly, as their name may foreshadow, to look after Elections when an Election comes, and procure fit men: but likewise to consult generally that the Commonweal take no damage ; one as yet sees not how. For indeed let two or three gather together anywhere, if it be not in Church, where all are bound to the passive state; no mortal can say accurately, themselves as little as any, for zvliat they are gathered. How often has the broached barrel proved not to be for joy and heart-effusion, but for duel and head- breakage ; and the promised feast become a Feast of the Lapithai ! This Jacobins Club, which at first shone resplendent, and was thought to be a new celestial Sun for enlightening the Nations, had, as things all have, to work through its appointed phases: it burned unfortunately more and more lurid, more sulphurous, distracted ; — and swam at last, through the aston- ] ished Heaven, like a Tartarean Portent, and lurid-burning ' Prison of Spirits in Pain. Its style of eloquence? Rejoice, Reader, that thou knowest it not, that thou canst never perfectly know. The Jacobins pub- lished a Journal of Debates, where they that have the heart may \k I examine : impassioned, dull-droning Patriotic eloquence ; im- ^ placable, unfertile — save for Destruction, which was indeed its work : most wearisome, though most deadly. Be thankful that T)blivion covers so much ; that all carrion is by and by buried in the green Earth's bosom, and even makes her grow the greener. The Jacobins are buried; but their work is not; it continues- " making the tour of the world," as it can. It might be seen ._ lately, for instance, with bared bosom and death-defiant eye, as I far on as Greek Missolonghi ; strange enough, old slumbering I Hellas was resuscitated, into soiuiiainbulisin which will become clear wakefulness, by a voice from the Rue St. Honore ! All ^ dies, as we often say; except the spirit of man, of what man does. Thus has not the very House of the Jacobins vanished : scarcely lingering in a few old men's memories? The St. Honore Market has brushed it away, and now where dull- droning eloquence, like a Trump of Doom, once shook the world, there is pacific chaffering for poultry and greens. The sacred - National Assembly Hall itself has become common ground; President's platform permeable to wain and dustcart ; for the Rue de Rivoli runs there. Verily, at Cockcrow (of this Cock or the other), all Apparitions do melt and dissolve in space. 278 CARLYLE [1789—90 The Paris Jacobins became " the Mother Society, Societe Mere ; " and had as many as " three hundred " shrill-tongued daughters in " direct correspondence " with her. Of indirectly corresponding, what we may call grand-daughters and minute progeny, she counted " forty-four thousand ! " — But for the pre- sent we note only two things : the first of them a mere anecdote. One night, a couple of brother Jacobins are door-keepers ; for / the members take this post of duty and honor in rotation, and admit none that have not tickets : one door-keeper was the worthy Sieur Lais, a patriotic Opera-singer, stricken in years, whose windpipe is long since closed without result ; the other, young, and named Louis Philippe, D'Orleans's firstborn, has in this latter time, after unheard-of destinies, become Citizen-King, and struggles to rule for a season. All flesh is grass ; higher reedgrass, or creeping herb. The second thing we have to note is historical : that the Mother Society, even in this its effulgent period, cannot content all Patriots. Already it must throw off, so to speak, two dis- satisfied swarms ; a swarm to the right, a swarm to the left. One party, which thinks the Jacobins lukewarm, constitutes it--/ self into CUih of the Cordeliers; a hotter Club: it is Danton's element ; with whom goes Desmoulins. The other party, again, j which thinks the Jacobins scalding-hot, flies off to the right, and becomes " Club of 1789, Friends of the Monarchic Constitution." They are afterwards named " Feidllans Cliih;" their place of meeting being the Feuillans Convent. Lafayette is, or becomes, their chief man ; supported by the respectable Patriot every- where, by the mass of Property and Intelligence, — with the most flourishing prospects. They, in these June days of 1790, do, in the Palais Royal, dine solemnly with open windows ; to the cheers of the people ; with toasts, with inspiriting songs, — with one song at least, among the feeblest ever sung.a They shall, in due time, be hooted forth, over the borders, into Cimmerian Night. Another expressly Monarchic or Royalist Club, " Club des Monarchiens," though a Club of ample funds, and all sitting on damask sofas, cannot realize the smallest momentary cheer: realizes only scoffs and groans ; — till, ere long, certain Patriots in disorderly sufficient number, proceed thither, for a night or for nights, and groan it out of pain. Vivacious alone shall the a Hist. Pari. vi. 334. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 279 Mother Society and her family be. The very Cordeliers may, as it were, return into her bosom, which will have grown warm enough. Fatal-looking! Are not such Societies an incipient New Order of Society itself? The Aggregative Principle anew at work in a Society grown obsolete, cracked asunder, dissolving ' into rubbish and primary atoms ? J Chapter VI. — Je le Jure. With these signs of the times, is it not surprising that the dominant feeling all over France was still continually Hope? O blessed Hope, sole boon of man : whereby, on his strait prison- walls, are painted beautiful far-stretching landscapes; and into the night of very Death is shed holiest dawn ! Thou art to all an indefeasible possession in this God's-world ; to the wise a sacred Constantine's-banner, written on the eternal skies ; under which they shall conquer, for the battle itself is victory : to the foolish some secular mirage, or shadow of still waters, painted on the parched Earth ; whereby at least their dusty pilgrimage, if devious, becomes cheerfuler, becomes possible. In the death tumults of a sinking Society, French Hope sees only the birth-struggles of a new unspeakably better Society ; and sings, with full assurance of faith, her brisk Melody, which some inspired fiddler has in these very days composed for her, — ■ the world-famous Ca-ira. Yes ; " that will go : " and then there will come — ? All men hope ; even Marat hopes — that Patriotism will take muff and dirk. King Louis is not without hope : in the chapter of chances ; in a flight to some Bouille ; in getting popularized at Paris. But what a hoping People he had, judge by the fact, and series of facts, now to be noted. Poor Louis, meaning the best, with little insight and even less-- determination of his own, has to follow, in that dim wayfaring of his, such signal as may be given him ; by backstairs Royalism, by official or backstairs Constitutionalism, whichever for the ' month may have convinced the royal mind. If flight to BouilleJ and (horrible to think!) a draiving of the civil sword do hang as theory, portentous in the background, much nearer is this fact of these Twelve Hundred Kings, who sit in the Salic ilc Manege. Kings uncontrollable by him, not yet irreverent to 2 8o CARLYLE [1790 him. Could kind management of these but prosper, how much better were it than armed Emigrants, Turin intrigues, and the help of Austria ! Nay are the tzvo hopes inconsistent ? Rides in the suburbs, we have found, cost little; yet they always brought z'ivats.a Still cheaper is a soft word ; such as has many times turned away wrath. In these rapid days, while France is all getting divided into Departments, Clergy about to be re- modelled, Popular Societies rising, and Feudalism and so much else is ready to be hurled into the melting-pot, — might not one try? On the 4th of February, accordingly, M. le President reads to his National Assembly a short autograph, announcing that his Majesty will step over, quite in an unceremonious way, prob- ably about noon. Think, therefore. Messieurs, what it may mean; especially, how ye will get the Hall decorated a little. The Secretaries' Bureau can be shifted down from the platform ; on the President's chair be slipped this cover of velvet, " of a violet color sprigged with gold fleur-de-lys ; " — for indeed M. le President has had previous notice underhand, and taken counsel with Doctor Guillotin. Then some fraction of " velvet carpet," of like texture and color, cannot that be spread in front of the chair, where the Secretaries usually sit? So has judicious Guil- lotin advised ; and the effect is found satisfactory. Moreover, as it is probable that his Majesty, in spite of the fleur-de-lys vel- vet, will stand and not sit at all, the President himself, in the interim, presides standing. And so, while some honorable Member is discussing, say, the division of a Department, Ushers announce: " His Majesty I " In person, with small suite, enter Majesty: the honorable Member stops short; the Assembly starts to its feet : the Twelve Hundred Kings " almost all," and the Galleries no less, do welcome the Restorer of French Liberty with loyal shouts. His Majesty's Speech, in diluted conven- tional phraseology, expresses this mainly : That he, most of all Frenchmen, rejoices to see France getting regenerated ; is sure, at the same time, that they will deal gently with her in the pro- cess, and not regenerate her roughly. Such was his Majesty's speech : the feat he performed was coming to speak it, and going back again. Surely, except to a very hoping People, there was not much here to build upon. Yet what did they not build ! The fact that a See Bertrand-Moleville, i. 241, &c. February 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 281 the King has spoken, that he has vohmtarily come to speak, how inexpressibly encouraging! Did not the glance of his royal countenance, like concentrated sunbeams, kindle all hearts in an august Assembly ; nay thereby in an inflammable enthusiastic France ? To move " Deputation of thanks " can be the happy lot of but one man ; to go in such Deputation the lot of not many. The Deputed have gone, and returned with what highest-flown*] compliment they could ; whom also the Queen met, Dauphin j in hand. And still do not our hearts burn with insatiable grati- ' tude ; and to one other man a still higher blessedness suggests itself : To move that we all renew the National Oath. Happiest honorable Member, with his word so in season as word seldom was ; magic Fugleman of a whole National Assem- bly, which sat there bursting to do somewhat; Fugleman of a whole onlooking France ! The President swears ; declares that every one shall swear, in distinct je le jure. Nay the very Gal- lery sends him down a written slip signed, with their Oath on it ; and as the Assembly now casts an eye that way, the Gallery all stands up and swears again. And then out of doors, con- sider at the H6tel-de-Ville how Bailly, the great Tennis-Court swearer, again swears, towards nightfall, with all the Munici- pals, and Heads of Districts assembled there. And " M. Danton suggests that the public would like to partake : " whereupon Bailly, with escort of Twelve, steps forth to the great outer stair- case ; sways the ebullient multitude with stretched hand ; takes their oath, with a thunder of " rolling drums," with shouts that rend the welkin. And on all streets the glad people, with moisture and fire in their eyes, " spontaneously formed groups, and swore one another,"^ — and the whole City was illuminated. , This was the Fourth of February 1790: a day to be marked [ white in Constitutional annals. Nor is the illumination for a night only, but partially or totally it lasts a series of nights. For each District, the Electors of each District will swear specially ; and always as the District swears, it illuminates itself. Behold them, District after Dis- trict, in some open square, where the Non-Electing People can all see and join: with their uplifted right-hands, and jc Ic jure; with rolling drums, with cmbracings, and that infinite hurrah of the enfranchised, — which any tyrant that there may be can con- 6 Newspapers (in Hist. Pari. iv. 445). 282 CARLYLE [1789—90 sider! Faithful to the King, to the Law, to the Constitution which the National Assembly shall make. Fancy, for example, the Professors of Universities parading the streets with their young France, and swearing, in an en- thusiastic manner, not without tumult. By a larger exercise of fancy, expand duly this little word: The like was repeated in every Town and District in France ! Nay one Patriot Mother, in Lagnon of Brittany, assembles her ten children ; and, with her own aged hand, swears them all herself, the high-souled vener- able woman. Of all which, moreover, a National Assembly must be eloquently apprised. Such three weeks of swearing! Saw the Sun ever such a swearing people ? Have they been bit by a swearing tarantula ? No : but they are men and French- men ; they have Hope ; and, singular to say, they have Faith, were it only in the Gospel according to Jean Jacques. O my Brothers, would to Heaven it were even as ye think and have sworn ! But there are Lover's Oaths, which, had they been true as love itself, cannot be kept ; not to speak of Dicer's Oaths, also a known sort. Chapter VII. — Prodigies. To such length had the Contrat Social brought it, in believing hearts. Man, as is well said, lives by faith ; each generation has its own faith, more or less ; and laughs at the faith of its pred- ecessor, — most unwisely. Grant indeed that this faith in the Social Contract belongs to the stranger sorts ; that an unborn generation may very wisely, if not laugh, yet stare at it, and piously consider. For, alas, what is Contrat? If all men were ■! such that a mere spoken or sworn Contract would bind them, all men were then true men, and Government a superfluity. Not what thou and I have promised to each other, but what the balance of our forces can make us perform to each other : that, in so sinful a world as ours, is the thing to be counted on. But above all, a People and a Sovereign promising to one another; as if a whole People, changing from generation to generation, nay from hour to hour, could ever by any method be made to speak or promise ; and to speak mere solecisms : " We, be the Heavens witness, which Heavens, however, do no miracles now ; we, ever-changing Millions, will allozv thee, changeful Unit, to force us or govern us ! " The world has perhaps seen few faiths comparable to that. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 283 So nevertheless had the world then construed the matter. Had they not so construed it, how different had their hopes been, their attempts, their resuks ! But so and not otherwise did the Upper Powers will it to be. Freedom by social Con- tract : such was verily the Gospel of that Era. And all men had believed in it, as in a Heaven's Glad-tidings men should ; and with overflowing heart and uplifted voice clave to it, and stood fronting Time and Eternity on it. Nay smile not ; or only with a smile sadder than tears ! This too was a better faith than the one it had replaced ; than faith merely in the Everlasting Nothing and man's Digestive Power; lower than which no faith can go. Not that such universally prevalent, universally jurant, feeling of Hope could be a unanimous one. Far from that. The time was ominous : social dissolution near and certain ; social renovation still a problem, difficult and distant, even though sure. But if ominous to some clearest onlooker, whose faith stood not with the one side or with the other, nor in the ever-vexed jarring of Greek with Greek at all, — how un- speakably ominous to dim Royalist participators ; for whom Royalism was Mankind's palladium ; for whom, with the aboli- tion of Most-Christian Kingship and Most-Talleyrand Bishop- ship, all loyal obedience, all religious faith was to expire, and final Night envelop the Destinies of Man ! On serious hearts, of that persuasion, the matter sinks down deep ; prompting, as we have seen, to backstairs plots, to Emigration with pledge of war, to Monarchic Clubs ; nay to still madder things. The Spirit of Prophecy, for instance, had been considered extinct for some centuries : nevertheless these last-times, as indeed is the tendency of last-times, do revive it ; that so, of French mad things, we might have sample also of the maddest. In remote rural districts, whither Philosophism has not yet radiated, where a heterodox Constitution of the Clergy is bringing strife round the altar itself, and the very Church- bells are getting melted into small money-coin, it appears proli- ablc that the End of the World cannot be far off. Deep-musing atrabiliar old men, especially old women, hint in an obscure way that they know what they know. The Holy Virgin, silent so long, has not gone dumb ; — and truly now, if ever more in this world, were the time for her to speak. One Prophetess, though careless Historians have omitted her name, condition 2S4 CARLYLE [1789—90 and whereabout, becomes audible to the general ear ; credible to not a few ; credible to Friar Gerle, poor Patriot Chartreux, in the National Assembly itself! She, in Pythoness recitative, with wild-staring eye, sings that there shall be a Sign; that the heavenly Sun himself will hang out a Sign, or Mock Sun, — which, many say, shall be stamped with the Head of hanged Favras. List, Dom Gerle, with that poor addled poll of thine ; list, O, list ; — and hear nothing.^ Notable, however, was that " magnetic vellum, velin mag- netiquc," of the Sieurs d'Hozier and Petit- Jean, Parlementeers of Rouen. Sweet young D'Hozier, " bred in the faith of his Missal, and of parchment genealogies," and of parchment gen- erally ; adust, melancholic, middle-aged Petit-Jean : why came these two to Saint-Cloud, where his Majesty was hunting, on the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul ; and waited there, in antechambers, a wonder to whispering Swiss, the livelong day ; and even waited without the Grates, when turned out ; and had dismissed their valets to Paris, as with purpose of end- less waiting? They have a magnetic vellum, these two; whereon the Virgin, wonderfully clothing herself in Mes- merean Cagliostric Occult-Philosophy, has inspired them to jot down instructions and predictions for a much-straitened King. To whom, by Higher Order, they will this day present it ; and save the Monarchy and World. Unaccountable pair of visual-objects ! Ye should be men, and of the Eigh- teenth Century ; but your magnetic vellum forbids us so to interpret. Say, are ye aught? Thus ask the Guard-house Captains, the Mayor of Saint-Cloud ; nay, at great length, thus asks the Committee of Researches, and not the Municipal, but the National Assembly one. No distinct answer, for weeks. At last it becomes plain that the right answer is negative. Go, ye Chimeras, with your magnetic vellum ; sweet young Chimera, adust middle-aged one ! The Prison-doors are open. Hardly again shall ye preside the Rouen Chamber of Ac- counts ; but vanish obscurely into Limbo.^ a Deux Amis, v. 7. b See Deux Amis, v. 199. 1789—90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 285 Chapter VIII. — Solemn League and Covenant. Such dim masses, and specks of even deepest black, work^ in that white-hot glow of the French mind, now wholly in | fusion and co;/fusion. Old women here swearing their ten children on the new Evangel of Jean Jacques ; old women there looking up for Favras' Heads in the celestial Luminary : 1 these are preternatural signs, prefiguring somewhat. J In fact, to the Patriot children of Hope themselves it is undeniable that difficulties exist : emigrating Seigneurs ; Parle- ments in sneaking but most malicious mutiny (though the rope is round their neck) ; above all, the most decided " de- ficiency of grains." Sorrowful ; but to a Nation that hopes, not irremediable. To a Nation which is in fusion and ardent commtmion of thought ; which, for example, on signal of one Fugleman will lift its right-hand like a drilled regiment, and swear and ihuminate, till every village from Ardennes to the Pyrenees has rolled its village-drum, and sent up its little oath, and glimmer of tallow-illumination some fathoms into the reign of Night! If grains are defective, the fault is not of Nature or Na--i tional Assembly, but of Art and Anti-National Intriguers. J Such malign individuals, of the scoundrel species, have power to vex us, while the Constitution is a-making. Endure it, ye heroic Patriots : nay rather, why not" cure it ? Grains do grow, they lie extant there in sheaf or sack ; only that re- graters and Royalist plotters, to provoke the People into illegality, obstruct the transport of grains. Quick, ye or- ganized Patriot Authorities, armed National Guards, meet together ; unite your goodwill ; in union is tenfold strength : let the concentrated flash of your Patriotism strike stealthy Scoundrclism blind, paralytic, as with a coup dc soldi. Under which hat or nightcap of the Twenty-five millions, this pregnant Idea first arose, for in some one head it did rise, no man can now say. A most small idea, near at hand for the whole world : but a living one, fit ; and which waxed, whether into greatness or not, into immeasurable size. When a Nation is in this state that the Fugleman can operate on it, what will the word in season, the act in season, not do! It will grow verily, like the Boy's Bean, in the Fairy-Tale, 2 86 CARLYLE [1789-90 heaven-high, with habitations and adventures on it, in one night. It is nevertheless unfortunately still a Bean (for your long-lived Oak grows not so) ; and the next night, it may lie felled, horizontal, trodden into common mud. — But remark, at least, how natural to any agitated Nation, which has Faith, this business of Covenanting is. The Scotch, believing in a righteous Heaven above them, and also in a Gospel far other than the Jean-Jacques one, swore, in their extreme need, a Solemn League and Covenant, — as Brothers on the forlorn- hope, and imminence of battle, who embrace, looking godward : and got the whole Isle to swear it; and even, in their tough Old-Saxon Hebrew-Presbyterian way, to keep it more or less ; — for the thing, as such things are, was heard in Heaven and partially ratified there : neither is it yet dead, if thou wilt look, nor like to die. The French too, with their Gallic-Ethnic excitability and effervescence, have, as we have seen, real Faith, of a sort ; they are hard bested, though in the middle of Hope : a National Solemn League and Covenant there may be in France too ; under how different conditions ; with how different development and issue! Note, accordingly, the small commencement ; first spark of a mighty firework : for if the particular Jwt cannot be fixed upon the particular District can. On the 29th day of last November, were National Guards by the thousand seen filing, from far and near, with military music, with Municipal officers in tricolor sashes, towards and along the Rhone-stream, to the little town of Etoile. There with ceremonial evolution and manoeuvre, with fanfaronading, musketry salvoes, and what else the Patriot genius could devise, they made oath and ob- testation to stand faithfully by one another, under Law and King ; in particular, to have all manner of grains, while grains there were, freely circulated, in spite both of robber and re- grater. This was the meeting of Etoile, in the mild end of November, 1789. But now, if a mere empty Review, followed by Review- dinner, ball, and such gesticulation and flirtation as there may be, interests the happy County-town, and makes it the envy of surrounding County-towns, how much more might this ! In a fortnight, larger Montelimart, half ashamed of itself, will do as good, and better. On the Plain of Montelimart, or what is equally sonorous, " under the Walls of Monteli- 1789-90] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 287 mart," the 13th of December sees new gathering and obtesta- tion ; six thousand strong ; and now indeed, with these three remarkable improvements, as unanimously resolved on there. First, that the men of Montelimart do federate with the already federated men of Etoile. Second, that, implying not expressing the circulation of grain, they " swear in tlie face of God and their Country " with much more emphasis and com- prehensiveness, " to obey all decrees of the National Assembly, and see them obeyed, till death, jiisqua la morty Third, and most important, that ofBcial record of all this be solemnly delivered in, to the National Assembly, to M. de Lafayette, and " to the Restorer of French Liberty ;" who shall all take what comfort from it they can. Thus does larger Montelimart vindicate its Patriot importance, and maintain its rank in the municipal scale.a And so, with the New-year, the signal is hoisted : for is not a National Assembly, and solemn deliverance there, at lowest a National Telegraph ? Not only grain shall circulate, while there is grain, on highways or the Rhone-waters, over all that South-Eastern region, — where also if Monseigneur d'Artois saw good to break in from Turin, hot welcome might await him ; but whatsoever Province of France is straitened for grain, or vexed with a mutinous Parlement, unconstitu- tional plotters. Monarchic Clubs, or any other Patriot ailment, can go and do likewise, or even do better. And now, especially, when the February swearing has set them all agog! From Brittany to Burgundy, on most Plains of France, under most City-walls, it is a blaring of trumpets, waving of banners, a Constitutional manoeuvring: under the vernal skies, while Nature too is putting forth her green Hopes, under bright sun- shine defaced by the stormful East ; like Patriotism victorious, though with diflficulty, over Aristocracy and defect of grain ! There march and constitutionally wheel, to the Qa-ira-mg mood of fife and drum, under their tricolor Municipals, our clear- gleaming Phalanxes ; or halt, with uplifted right-hand, and artillery salvoes that imitate Jove's thunder ; and all the Coun- try, and metaphorically all " the Universe," is looking on. Wholly, in their best apparel, brave men, and beautifully dizened women, most of whom have lovers there ; swearing, by the eternal Heavens and this green-growing all-nutritive Earth, that France is free! a Hist. Pari. vii. 4. 2 88 CARLYLE [1790 Sweetest days, when (astonishing to say) mortals have actually met together in communion and fellowship ; and man, were it only once through long despicable centuries, is for moments verily the brother of man ! — And then the Deputa- tions to the National Assembly, with high-flowing descriptive harangue ; to M. de Lafayette, and the Restorer ; very fre- quently moreover to the Mother of Patriotism, sitting on her stout benches in that Hall of the Jacobins ! The general ear is filled with Federation. New names of Patriots emerge, which shall one day become familiar: Boyer-Fonfrede elo- quent denunciator of a rebellious Bordeaux Parlement ; Max Isnard eloquent reporter of the Federation of Draguignan ; eloquent pair, separated by the whole breadth of France, who are nevertheless to meet. Ever wider burns the flame of Federation ; ever wider and also brighter. Thus the Brittany and Anjou brethren mention a Fraternity of all true French- men ; and go the length of invoking " perdition and death " on any renegade: moreover, if in their National-Assembly harangue, they glance plaintively at the marc d'argent which makes so many citizens passive, they, over in the Mother- Society, ask, being henceforth themselves " neither Bretons nor Angevins but French," Why all France has not one Federa- tion, and universal Oath of Brotherhood, once for all lb A most pertinent suggestion ; dating from the end of March. Which pertinent suggestion the whole Patriot world cannot but catch, and reverberate and agitate till it become lo^id; — which in that case the Townhall Municipals had better take up, and meditate. Some universal Federation seems inevitable : the Where is given ; clearly Paris : only the When, the How ? These also productive Time will give ; is already giving. For always as the Federative work goes on, it perfects itself, and Patriot genius adds contribution after contribution. Thus, at Lyons, in the end of the May month, we behold as many as fifty, or some say sixty thousand, met to federate ; and a multitude looking on. which it would be difficult to number. From dawn to dusk ! For our Lyons Guardsmen took rank, at five in the bright dewy morning; came pouring in, bright-gleaming, to the Quay de Rhone, to march thence to the Federation-field ; amid wavings of hats and lady-handkerchiefs ; glad shoutings b Reports, &c. (in Hist. Pari. ix. 122-147). May] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 289 of some two hundred thousand Patriot voices and hearts ; the beautiful and brave ! Among whom, courting no notice, and yet the notablest of all, what queen-like Figure is this ; w'ith her escort of housefriends and Champagneux the Patriot Editor; come abroad with the earliest? Radiant with en- thusiasm are those dark eyes, is that strong Minerva-face, looking dignity and earnest joy ; joyfulest she where all are joyful. It is Roland de la Platriere's Wife.c Strict elderly Roland, King's Inspector of Manufactures here ; and now like- wise, by popular choice, the strictest of our new Lyons Munic- ipals : a man who has gained much, if worth and faculty be gain ; but, above all things, has gained to wife Phlipon the Paris Engraver's daughter. Reader, mark that queenlike burgher-woman: beautiful, Amazonian-graceful to the eye; more so to the mind. Unconscious of her worth (as all worth is), of her greatness, of her crystal clearness ; genuine, the creature of Sincerity and Nature, in an age of Artificiality, Pollution and Cant ; there, in her still completeness, in her still invincibility, she, if thou knew it, is the noblest of all living Frenchwomen, — and will be seen, one day. O, blessed rather while «nseen, even of herself! For the present she gazes, nothing doubting, into this grand theatricality; and thinks her young dreams are to be fulfilled. From dawn to dusk, as we said, it lasts ; and truly a sight like few. Flourishes of drums and trumpets are something: but think of an " artificial Rock fifty feet high," all cut into crag-steps, not without the similitude of " shrubs " ! The in- terior cavity, — for in sooth it is made of deal, — stands solemn, a " Temple of Concord :" on the outer summit rises " a Statue of Liberty," colossal, seen for miles, with her Pike and Phrygian Cap, and civic column ; at her feet a Country's Altar, '\4utcl de la Patrie: " — on all which neither deal-timber nor lath-and-plaster, with paint of various colors, have been spared. But fancy then the banners all placed on the steps of the Rock ; high-mass chanted ; and the civic oath of fifty thousand : with what volcanic outburst of sound from iron and other throats, enough to frighten back the very Soane and Rhone ; and how the brightest fireworks, and balls, and even repasts closed in that night of the gods !(^ And so the c Madame Roland, Memoires, i. (Discours Preliminaire, p. 23). d Hist. Pari. xii. 274. Vol, I. — 19 290 CARLYLE [1790 Lyons Federation vanishes too, swallowed of darkness ; — and yet not wholly, for our brave fair Roland was there; also she, though in the deepest privacy, writes her Narrative of it in Chatnpagneux's Courrier de Lyons; a piece which " circu- lates to the extent of sixty thousand;" which one would like now' to read. But on the whole, Paris, we may see, will have little to devise; will only have to borrow and apply. And then as to the day, what day of all the calendar is fit, if the Bastille Anniversary be not? The particular spot too, it is easy to see, must be the Champ-de-Mars ; where many a Julian the Apostate has been lifted on bucklers, to France's or the world's sovereignty; and iron Franks, loud-clanging, have responded to the voice of a Charlemagne ; and from of old mere sublimi- ties have been familiar. Chapter IX. — Symbolic. How natural, in all decisive circumstances, is Symbolic -7 ^^ Representations to all kinds of men! Nay, what is man's-/ whole terrestrial Life but a Symbolic Representation, and , making visible, of the Celestial invisible Force that is in him?j 'By act and word he strives to do it; with sincerity, if pos- :,. sible ; failing that, with theatricality, which latter also may have its meaning. An Almacks Masquerade is not nothing; in more genial ages, your Christmas Guisings, Feasts of the Ass, Abbots of Unreason, were a considerable something: sincere sport they were ; as Almacks may still be sincere wish for sport. But what, on the other hand, must not sincere earnest have been ; say, a Hebrew Feast of Tabernacles have been! A whole Nation gathered, in the name of the Highest, under the eye of the Highest ; imagination itself flagging under the reality ; and all noblest Ceremony as yet not grown ceremonial, but solemn, significant to the outmost fringe ! Neither, in modern private life, are theatrical scenes, of tear- ful women wetting whole ells of cambric in concert, of im- passioned bushy-whiskered youth threatening suicide, and suchlike, to be so entirely detested: drop thou a tear over them thyself rather. At anv rate, one can remark that no Nation will throw-by I790] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 291 its work, and deliberately go out to make a scene, without meaning something thereby. For indeed no scenic individual, with knavish hypocritical views, will take the trouble to solil- oquize a scene : and now consider, is not a scenic Nation placed precisely in that predicament of soliloquizing ; for its own behoof alone ; to solace its own sensibilities, maudlin or other? — Yet in this respect, of readiness for scenes, the dif- ference of Nations, as of men, is very great. If our Saxon Puritanic friends, for example, swore and signed their National Covenant, without discharge of gunpowder, or the beating of any drum, in a dingy Covenant-Close of the Edinburgh High- street, in a mean room, where men now drink mean liquor, it was consistent with their ways so to swear it. Our Gallic- Encyclopedic friends, again, must have a Champ-de-Mars, seen of all the world, or universe ; and such a Scenic Exhibi- tion, to which the Coliseum Amphitheatre was but a stroller's barn, as this old Globe of ours had never or hardly ever beheld. Which method also we reckon natural, then and there. Nor perhaps was the respective keeping of these two Oaths far out of due proportion to such respective display in taking them : inverse proportion, namely. For the theatricality of a People goes in a compound ratio: ratio indeed of their trust- fulness, sociability, fervency; but then also of their excita- bility, of their porosity, not continent; or say, of their ex- plosiveness, hot-flashing, but which does not last. How true also, once more, is it that no man or Nation of men, conscious of doing a great thing, was ever, in that thing, doing other than a small one! O Champ-de-Mars Federa- tion, with three hundred drummers, twelve hundred wind- musicians, and artillery planted on height after height to boom the tidings of it all over France, in few minutes! Could no Atheist-Naigeon contrive to discern, eighteen centuries ofif, those Thirteen most poor mean-ilressed men, at frugal Supper, in a mean Jewish dwelling, with no syml)ol but hearts god- initiated into the " Divine depth of Sorrow," and a Do this in remembrance of me; — and so cease that small difficult crow- ing of his, if he were not doomed to it ? 292 CARLYLE [1790 Chapter X. — Mankind. Pardonable are human theatricalities ; nay, perhaps touch- ing-, like the passionate utterance of a tongue which with sin- cerity stammers; of a head which with insincerity babbles, — having gone distracted. Yet, in comparison with unpremedi- tated outbursts of Nature, such as an Insurrection of Women, how foisonless, unedifying, undelightful ; like small ale palled, like an effervescence that has effervesced ! Such scenes, coming of forethought, were they world-great, and never so cunningly devised, are at bottom mainly pasteboard and paint. But the others are original ; emitted from the great everliving heart of Nature herself: what figure they will assume is unspeak- ably significant. To us, therefore, let the French National Solemn League and Federation be the highest recorded triumph of the Thespian Art : triumphantly surely, since the whole Pit, which was of Twenty-five Millions, not only claps hands, but does itself spring on the boards and passionately set to playing there. And being such, be it treated as such : with sincere cursory admiration ; with wonder from afar. A whole Nation gone mumming deserves so much ; but deserves not that loving minuteness a Menadic Insurrection did. Much more let prior, and as it were rehearsal scenes of Federation come and go, henceforward, as they list ; and, on Plains and under City-walls, innumerable regimental bands blare-off into the Inane, without note from us. One scene, however, the hastiest reader will momentarily pause on : that of Anacharsis Clootz and the Collective sinful Posterity of Adam. — For a Patriot Municipality has now, on the 4th of June, got its plan concocted, and got it sanctioned by National Assembly; a Patriot King assenting; to whom, were he even free to dissent, Federative harangues, overflow- ing with loyalty, have doubtless a transient sweetness. There shall come Deputed National Guards, so many in the hundred, from each of the Eighty-three Departments of France. Like- wise from all Naval and Military King's Forces shall Deputed quotas come ; such Federation of National with Royal Soldier has, taking place spontaneously, been already seen and sanc- tioned. For the rest, it is hoped, as many as forty thousand may arrive ; expenses to be borne by the Deputing District ; Juneigth] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 293 of all which let District and Department take thought, and elect fit men, — whom the Paris brethren will fly to meet and welcome. Now, therefore, judge if our Patriot Artists are busy; taking deep counsel how to make the Scene worthy of a look from the Universe! As many as fifteen thousand men, spadesmen, barrow-men, stonebuilders, rammers, with their engineers, arc at work on the Champ-de-Mars ; hollowing it out into a National Amphitheatre, fit for such solemnity. For one may hope it will be annual and perennial ; a " Feast of Pikes, Fete des Piques" notablest among the hightides of the year: in any case, ought not a scenic Free Nation to have some permanent National Amphitheatre? The Champ- de-Mars is getting hollowed out ; and the daily talk and the nightly dream in most Parisian heads is of Federation and that only. Federate Deputies are already under way. Na- tional Assembly, what with its natural work, what with hear- ing and answering harangues of these Federates, of this Federation, will have enough to do ! Harangue of " Ameri- can Committee," among whom is that faint figure of Paul Jones as " with the stars dim-twinkling through it," — come to congratulate us on the prospect of such auspicious day. Harangue of Bastille Conquerors, come to " renounce " any special recompense, any peculiar place at the solemnity ; — since the Centre Grenadiers rather grumble. Harangue of " Tennis- Court Club," who enter with far-gleaming Brass-plate, aloft on a pole, and the Tennis-Court Oath engraved theron ; which far-gleaming Brass-plate they purpose to affix solemnly in the Versailles original locality, on the 20th of this month, which is the anniversary, as a deathless memorial, for some years : they will then dine, as they come back, in the Bois de Boulogne ;a — cannot, however, do it without apprising the world. To such things does the august National Assembly ever and anon cheerfully listen, suspending its regenerative labors; and with some touch of impromptu eloquence, make friendly reply ; — as indeed the wont has long been ; for it is a gesticu- lating, sympathetic People, and has a heart, and wears it on its sleeve. In which circumstances, it occurred to the mind of Ana- charsis Clootz, that while so much was embodying itself into a See Deux Amis, v. 122; Hist. Pari &c. 294 CARLYLE [1790 Club or Committee, and perorating applauded, there yet re- mained a greater and greatest ; of which, if it also took body and perorated, what might not the effect be: Humankind namely, le Genre Hurnain itself! In what rapt creative mo- ment the Thought rose in Anacharsis's soul ; all his throes, while he went about giving shape and birth to it ; how he w^as sneered at by cold worldlings ; but did sneer again, being a man of polished sarcasm ; and moved to and fro persuasive in coffeehouse and soiree, and dived down assiduous-obscure in the great deep of Paris, making his Thought a Fact : of all this the spiritual biographies of that period say nothing. Enough that on the 19th evening of June 1790, the sun's slant rays lighted a spectacle such as our foolish little Planet has not often had to show : AnacharsisClootz entering the august Salle de Manege, with the Human Species at his heels, Swedes, Spaniards, Polacks ; Turks, Chaldeans, Greeks, dwellers in Mesopotamia ; behold them all ; they have come to claim place in the grand Federation, having an undoubted interest in it. " Our Ambassador titles," said the fervid Clootz, " are not written on parchment, but on the living hearts of all men." These whiskered Polacks, long-fllowing turbaned Ishmaelites, astrological Chaldeans, who stand so mute here, let them plead with you, august Senators, more eloquently than eloquence could. They are the mute representatives of their tongue- tied, befettered, heavy-laden Nations; who from out of that dark bewilderment gaze wistful, amazed, with half-incredulous hope, towards you, and this your bright light of a French Federation : bright particular daystar, the herald of universal day. We claim to stand there, as mute monuments, pathetically adumbrative of much. — From bench and gallery comes " re- peated applause ;" for what august Senator but is flattered even by the very shadow of Human Species depending on him. From President Sieyes, who presides this remarkable fortnight, in spite of his small voice, there comes eloquent though shrill reply. Anacharsis and the " Foreigners Com- mittee " shall have place at the Federation ; on condition of telling their respective Peoples what they see there. In the mean time, we invite them to the " honors of the sitting, honneur de la seance." A long-flowing Turk, for rejoinder, bows with Eastern solenmity, and utters articulate sounds : but owing to his imperfect knowledge of the French dialect,^ b Monitcur, &c. (in Hist. Pari. xii. 283). Jnne] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 295 his words are like spilt water ; the thought he had in him re- mains conjectural to this day. Anacharsis and Mankind accept the honors of the sitting; and have forthwith, as the old Newspapers still testify, the satisfaction to see several things. First and chief, on the motion of Lameth, Lafayette, Saint-Fargeau and other Patriot Nobles, let the others repugn as they w^ill: all Titles of No- bility, from Duke to Esquire, or lower, are henceforth abolished. Then, in like manner. Livery Servants, or rather the Livery of Servants, Neither, for the future, shall any man or woman, self-styled noble, be " incensed," — foolishly fumigated with incense, in Church ; as the wont has been. In a word. Feudal- ism being dead these ten months, why should her empty trap- pings and scutcheons survive? the very Coats-of-arms will require to be obliterated ; — and yet Cassandra-Marat on this and the other coach-panel notices that they " are but painted over," and threaten to peer through again. So that henceforth De Lafayette is but the Sieur Motier, and Saint-Fargeau is plain Michel Lepelletier ; and Mirabeau soon after has to say huffingly, " With your Riquetti you have set Europe at cross-purposes for three days." For his Count- hood is not indifferent to this man ; which indeed the ad- miring People treat him with to the last. But let extreme Patriotism rejoice, and chiefly Anacharsis and Mankind ; for now it seems to be taken for granted that one Adam is Father of us all ! — Such was, in historical accuracy, the famed feat of Ana- charsis. Thus did the most extensive of Public Bodies fincf a sort of spokesman. Whereby at least we may judge of one thing: v/hat a humor the once sniffing mocking City of Paris and Baron Clootz had got into ; when such exhibition could appear a propriety, next door to a sublimity. It is true, Envy did, in after-times, pervert this success of Anacharsis ; making him, from incidental " Speaker of the Foreign-Nations Com- mittee," claim to be official permanent " Speaker, Oratenr, of the Human Species," which he only deserved to be ; and al- leging, calumniously, that his astrological Chaldeans, and the rest, were a mere French tagrag-and-bobtail disguised for the nonce; and, in short, sneering and fleering at him in her cold barren way: all which however, he, the man In- was, could receive on thick enough panoply, or even rebound therefrom, and also go his way. 296 CARLYLE [1790 Most extensive of Public Bodies, we may call it ; and also the most unexpected : for who could have thought to see All Nations in the Tuileries Riding-Hall ? But so it is ; and truly as strange things may happen when a whole People goes mumming and miming. Hast not thou thyself perchance seen diademed Cleopatra, daughter of the Ptolemies, plead- ing, almost with bended knee, in unheroic tea-parlor, or dimlit retail-shop, to inflexible gross Burghal Dignitary, for leave to reign and die ; being dressed for it, and moneyless, with small children ; — while suddenly Constables have shut the Thespian barn, and her Antony pleaded in vain? Such visual spectra flit across this Earth, if the Thespian Stage be rudely interfered with: but much more, when, as was said. Pit jumps on Stage, then is it verily, as in Herr Tieck's Drama, a Ver- kehrte Welt, or World Topsy-turvied ! Having seen the Human Species itself, to have seen the " Dean of the Human Species " ceased now to be a miracle. Such " Doyen du Genre Hiimain, Eldest of Men," had shown himself there, in these weeks: Jean Claude Jacob, a born Serf, deputed from his native Jura Mountains to thank the National Assembly for enfranchising them. On his bleached worn face are ploughed the furrowings of one hundred and twenty years. He has heard dim patois-idXk, of immortal Grand-Monarch victories ; of a burned Palatinate, as he toiled and moiled to make a little speck of this Earth greener; of Cevennes Dragoonings ; of Marlborough going to the war. Four generations have bloomed out, and loved and hated, and rustled off: he was forty-six when Louis Fourteenth died. The Assembly, as one man, spontaneously rose, and did rever- ence to the Eldest of the World ; old Jean is to take seance among them, honorably, with covered head. He gazes feebly there, with his old eyes, on that new wonder-scene ; dream- like to him, and uncertain, wavering amid fragments of old memories and dreams. For Time is all growing unsubstan- tial, dreamlike ; Jean's eyes and mind are weary, and about to close, — and open on a far other wonder-scene, which shall be real. Patriot Subscription, Royal Pension was got for him, and he returned home glad ; but in two months more he left it all, and went on his unknown way.f c Deux Amis, iv. iii. July ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 297 Chapter XI. — As in the Age of Gold. Meanwhile to Paris, ever going and returning, day after day, and all day long, towards that Field of Mars, it becomes painfully apparent that the spade work there cannot be got done in time. There is such an area of it ; three hundred thousand square feet: for from the Ecole Militaire (which will need to be done up in wood with balconies and galleries) westward to the Gate by the River (where also shall be wood, in triumphal arches), we count some thousand yards of length ; and for breadth, from this umbrageous Avenue of eight rows, on the South side, to that corresponding one on the North, some thousand feet more or less. All this to be scooped out, and wheeled up in slope along the sides ; high enough ; for it must be rammed down there, and shaped stair-wise into as many as " thirty ranges of convenient seats," firm-trimmed with turf, covered with enduring timber; — and then our huge pyramidal Fatherland's Altar, Autel de la Patrie, in the centre, also to be raised and stair-stepped. Force-work with a ven- geance ; it is a World's Amphitheatre ! There are but fifteen days good : and at this languid rate, it might take half as many weeks. What is singular too, the spadesmen seem to work lazily ; they will not work double-tides, even for offer of more wages, though their tide is but seven hours ; they declare angrily that the human tabernacle requires occasional rest! Is it Aristocrats secretly bribing? Aristocrats were capable of that. Only six months since, did not evidence get afloat that subterranean Paris, — for we stand over quarries and cata- combs, dangerously, as it were midway between Heaven and the Abyss, and are hollow underground, — was charged with gunpowder, which should make us " leap " ? Till a Corde- liers Deputation actually went to examine, and found it — carried off again !« An accursed, incurable brood ; all asking for " passports," in these sacred days. Trouble, of rioting, chateau-burning, is in the Limousin and elsewhere ; for they are busy ! Between the best of Peoples and the best of Restorer Kings they would sow grudges ; with what a fiend's grin would they see this Federation, looked for by the Universe, fail! 23(1 December 1789 (Newspapers in Ilist. Pari. iv. 44). 298 CARLYLE [1790 Fail for want of spadework, however, it shall not. He that has four limbs and a French heart can do spadework ; and will ! On the first July Monday, scarcely has the signal-cannon boomed; scarcely have the languescent mercenary Fifteen Thousand laid down their tools, and the eyes of onlookers turned sorrowfully to the still high Sun ; when this and the other Patriot, fire in his eye, snatches barrow and mattock, and himself begins indignantly wheeling. Whom scores and then hundreds follow ; and soon a volunteer Fifteen Thousand are shovelling and trundling; with the heart of giants: and all in right order, with that extemporaneous adroitness of theirs : whereby such a lift has been given, worth three mer- cenary ones ; — which may end when the late twilight thickens, in triumph-shouts, heard or heard of beyond Montmartre ! A sympathetic population will zvait, next day, with eager- ness, till the tools are free. Or why wait? Spades elsewhere exist ! And so now bursts forth that effulgence of Parisian enthusiasm, good-heartedness and brotherly love ; such if Chroniclers are trustworthy, as was not witnessed since the Age of Gold. Paris, male and female, precipitates itself to- wards its Southwest extremity, spade on shoulder. Streams of men, without order ; or in order, as ranked fellow-crafts- men, as natural or accidental reunions, march towards the Field of Mars. Three-deep these march ; to the sound of stringed music ; preceded by young girls with green boughs and tricolor streamers : they have shouldered, soldier-wise, their shovels and picks ; and with one throat are singing ga- ira. Yes, pardieu ga-ira, cry the passengers on the streets. All corporate Guilds, and public and private Bodies of Citi- zens, from the highest to the lowest, march ; the very Hawkers, one finds, have ceased bawling for one day. The neighboring Villages turn out; their able men come march- ing, to village fiddle or tambourine and triangle, under their Mayor, or Mayor and Curate, who also walk bespaded, and in tricolor sash. As many as one hundred and fifty thou- sand workers ; nay at certain seasons, as some count, two hundred and fifty thousand ; for, in the afternoon especially, what mortal but, finishing his hasty day's work, would run ! A stirring City: from the time you reach the Place Louis- Quinze, southward over the River, by all Avenues, it is one living throng. So many workers ; and no mercenary mock- Feb. 2d-i2th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 299 workers, but real ones that lie freely to it: each Patriot stretches himself against the stubborn glebe ; hews and wheels with the whole weight that is in him. Amiable infants, aimahles cnfaiis! They do the "police de r atelier " too, the guidance and governance, themselves ; with that ready will of theirs, with that extemporaneous adroit- ness. It is a true brethren's work ; all distinctions confounded, abolished; as it was in the beginning, when Adam himself delved. Long-frocked tonsured Monks, with short-skirted Water-carriers, with swallow-tailed well-frizzled Incroyables of a Patriot turn ; dark Charcoalmen, meal-white Peruke- makers ; or Peruke-wearers, for Advocate and Judge are there, and all Heads of Districts : sober Nuns sisterlike with flaunting Nymphs of the Opera, and females in common circumstances named unfortunate: the patriot Ragpicker, and perfumed dweller in palaces ; for Patriotism, like New-birth, and also like Death, levels all. The Printers have come marching, Prudhomme's all in Paper-caps with Revolutions de Paris printed on them ; — as Camille notes ; wishing that in these great days there should be a Facte des Ecrivains too, or Federation of Able Editors.* Beautiful to see ! The snowy linen and delicate pantaloon alternates with the soiled. check- shirt and bushel-breeches ; for both have cast their coats, and under both are four limbs and a set of Patriot muscles. There do they pick and shovel ; or bend forward, yoked in long strings to box-barrow or overloaded tumbril ; joyous, with one mind. Abbe Sieyes is seen pulling, wiry, vehement, if too light for draught ; by the side of Beauharnais, who shall get Kings though he be none. Abbe Ad^aury did not pull ; but the Charcoalmen brought a mummer guised like him, and he had to pull in effigy. Let no august Senator disdain the work: Mayor Bailly, Generalissimo Lafayette are there; — and, alas, shall be there again another day! The King him- self comes to see: sky-rending Vive-le-roi! "and suddenly with shouldered spades they form a guard of honor round him." Whosoever can come comes; to work, or to look, and bless the work. Whole families have come. One whole family we see clearly of three generations : the father picking, the mother shovelling, the young ones wheeling assiduous ; old grand- fe See Newspapers, &c. (in Hist. Pari. vi. 381-406). d oo CARLYLE [1790 father, hoary with ninety-three years, holds in his arms the youngest of a.\l:c frisky, not helpful this one; who never- theless may tell it to his grand-children ; and how the Future and the Past alike looked on, and with failing or with half- formed voice, faltered their ga-ira. A vintner has wheeled in, on Patriot truck, beverage of wine : " Drink not, my brothers, if ye are not thirsty ; that your cask may last the longer :" neither did any drink but men " evidently exhausted." A dapper Abbe looks on, sneering : " To the barrow ! " cry several ; whom he, lest a worse thing befall him, obeys ; nevertheless one wiser Patriot barrowman, arriving now, interposes his " arrctez;" setting down his own barrow, he snatches the Abbe's; trundles it fast, like an infected thing, forth of the Champ-de-Mars circuit, and discharges it there. Thus too a certain person (of some quality, or private capital, to appearance), entering hastily, flings down his coat, waist- coat and two watches, and is rushing to the thick of the work : " But your watches ? " cries the general voice. — " Does one distrust his brothers?" answers he; nor were the watches stolen. How beautiful is noble-sentiment: like gossamer gauze, beautiful and cheap ; which will stand no tear and wear ! Beautiful cheap gossamer gauze, thou film-shadow of a raw-material of Virtue, which art not woven, nor likely to be, into Duty ; thou art better than nothing, and also worse ! Young Boarding-school Boys, College Students, shout Vive la Nation, and regret that they have yet " only their sweat to give." What say we of Boys? Beautifulest Hebes ; the loveliest of Paris, in their light air-robes, with riband-girdle of tricolor, are there ; shoveling and wheeling with the rest ; their Hebe eyes brighter with enthusiasm, and long hair in beautiful dishevelment ; broad-pressed are their small fingers ; but they make the patriot barrow go, and even force it to the summit of the slope (with a little tracing, which what man's arm were not too happy to lend?) — then bound down with it again, and go for more ; with their long locks and tricolors blown black ; graceful as the rosy Hours. O, as that evening Sun fell over the Champ-de-Mars, and tinted with fire the thick umbrageous boscage that shelters it on this hand and on that, and struck direct on those Domes and two-and-forty Win- dows of the Ecole Militaire, and made them all of burnished c Mercier, ii. 76, &c. Feb. 2d-i2th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 301 gold, — saw he on his wide zodiac road other such sight? A living garden spotted and dotted with such flowerage ; all colors of the prism ; the beautifulest blent friendly with the usefulest ; all glowing and working brotherlike there under one warm feel- ing, were it but for days ; once and no second time ! But Night is sinking; these Nights, too, into Eternity. The hastiest traveller Versailles-ward has drawn bridle on the heights of Chaillot : and looked for moments over the River ; reporting at Versailles what he saw, not without tears. c^ Meanwhile, from all points of the compass, Federates are ar- riving : fervid children of the South, " who glory in their Mira- beau ; " considerate North-blooded Mountaineers of Jura ; sharp Bretons, with their Gaelic suddenness ; Normans, not to be over- reached in bargain : all now animated with one noblest fire of Patriotism. Whom the Paris brethren march forth to receive ; with military solemnities, with fraternal embracing, and a hospitality worthy of the heroic ages. They assist at the As- sembly's Debates, these Federates ; the Galleries are reserved for them. They assist in the toils of the Champ-de-Mars ; each new troop will put its hand to the spade ; lift a hod of earth on the Altar of the Fatherland. But the flourishes of rhetoric, for it is a gesticulating People ; the moral-sublime of those Ad- dresses to an august Assembly, to a Patriot Restorer ! Our Breton Captain of Federates kneels even, in a fit of enthusiasm, and gives up his sword ; he wet-eyed to a King wet-eyed. Poor Louis ! These, as he said afterwards, were among the bright days of his life. Reviews also there must be ; royal Federate-reviews, with King, Queen and tricolor Court looking on : at lowest, if, as is too common, it rains, our Federate Volunteers will file through the inner gateways, Royalty standing dry. Nay there, should some stop occur, the beautifulest fingers in France may take you softly by the lapel, and, in mild flute-voice, ask : " Monsieur, of what Province are you? " Happy he who can reply, chivalrous- ly lowering his sword's point, " Madame, from the Province your ancestors reigned over." He that happy " Provincial Ad- vocate," now Provincial Federate, shall be rewarded by a sun- smile, and such melodious glad words addressed to a King : " Sire, these are your faithful Lorrainers." Cheerier verily, in these holidays, is this " skyblue faced with red " of a National d Mercier, ii. 81. 302 CARLYLE [1790 Guardsman, than the dull black and gray of a Provincial Advo- cate, which in workdays one was used to. For the same thrice- blessed Lorrainer shall, this evening, stand sentry at a Queen's door ; and feel that he could die a thousand deaths for her : then again, at the outer gate, and even a third time, she shall see him ; nay he will make her do it ; presenting arms with emphasis, " making his musket jingle again : " and in her salute there shall again be a sun-smile, and that little blonde-locked too hasty Dauphin shall be admonished, " Salute, then. Monsieur ; don't be unpolite ; " and therewith she, like a bright Sky-wanderer or Planet with her little Moon, issues forth peculiar-^" But at night, when Patriot spadework is over, figure the sacred rites of hospitality ! Lepelletier Saint-Fargeau, a mere private senator, but with great possessions, has daily his "hun- dred dinner-guests ; " the table of Generalissimo Lafayette may double that number. In lowly parlor, as in lofty saloon, the wine-cup passes round ; crowned by the smiles of Beauty ; be it of lightly-tripping Grisette or of high-sailing Dame, for both equally have beauty, and smiles precious to the brave. Chapter XII. — Sound and Smoke. And so now, in spite of plotting Aristocrats, lazy hired spade- men, and almost of Destiny itself (for there has been much rain too), the Champ-de-Mars, on the 13th of the month, is fairly ready : trimmed, rammed, buttressed with firm masonry ; and Patriotism can stroll over it admiring; and as it were re- hearsing, for in every head is some unutterable image of the morrow. Pray Heaven there be not clouds. Nay what far worse cloud is this, of a misguided Municipality that talks of admitting Patriotism to the solemnity by tickets ! Was it by tickets we were admitted to the work ; and to what brought the work? Did we take the Bastille by tickets? A misguided Municipality sees the error ; at late midnight, rolling drums announce to Patriotism starting half out of its bed-clothes, that it is to be ticketless. Pull down thy nightcap therefore ; and. with demi-articulate grumble, significant of several things, go pacified to sleep again. To-morrow is Wednesday morning ; unforgettable among the fasti of the world. e Narrative by a Lorraine Federate (given in Hist. Pari. vi. 389-91). July i4tli] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 303 The morning comes, cold for a July one ; but such a festivity would make Greenland smile. Through every inlet of that Na- tional Amphitheatre (for it is a league in circuit, cut with open- ings at due intervals), floods-in the living throng; covers, with- out tumult, space after space. The Ecole Militaire has galleries and overvaulting canopies, wherein Carpentry and Painting have vied, for the Upper Authorities ; triumphal arches, at the Gate by the River, bear inscriptions, if weak, yet well-meant and orthodox. Far aloft, over the Altar of the Fatherland, on their tall crane standards of iron, swing pensile our antique Casso- lettes or Pans of Incense ; dispensing sweet incense-fumes, — unless for the Heathen Mythology, one sees not for whom. Two hundred thousand Patriotic Men ; and, twice as good, one hundred thousand Patriotic Women, all decked and glorified as one can fancy, sit waiting in this Champ-de-Mars. What a picture: that circle of bright-dyed Life, spread up there, on its thirty-seated Slope ; leaning, one would say, on the thick umbrage of those Avenue-Trees, for the stems of them are hidden by the height; and all beyond it mere greenness of Summer Earth, with the gleams of waters, or white sparklings of stone edifices : little circular enamel picture in the centre of such a vase — of emerald ! A vase not empty : the Invalides Cupolas want not their population, nor the distant Windmills of Montmartre ; on remotest steeple and invisible village belfry stand men with spy-glasses. On the heights of Chaillot are many-colored undulating groups ; round and far on, over all the circling heights that embosom Paris, it is as one more or less peopled Amphitheatre ; which the eye grows dim with measur- ing. Nay heights, as was before hinted, have cannon ; and a floating-battery of cannon is on the Seine. When eye fails, ear shall serve ; and all France properly is but one Amphitheatre ; for in paved town and unpaved hamlet men walk listening ; till the muffled thunder sound audible on their horizon, that they too may begin swearing and firing !a But now, to streams of music, come Federates enough, — for they have asseml)Ied on the Boulevard Saint-Antoinc or thereby, and come marching through the City, with their Eighty-three Department Banners, and blessings not loud but deep ; comes National Assembly, and takes seat under its Canopy ; comes Royalty, and takes seat on a throne beside it. And Lafayette, on white charger, is here, and a Deux Amis, v. 168. 304 CARLYLE [1790 all the civic Functionaries ; and the Federates form dances, till their strictly military evolutions and manoeuvres can begin. Evolutions and manoeuvres? Task not the pen of mortal to describe them : truant imagination droops ; — declares that it is not worth while. There is wheeling and sweeping, to slow, to quick and double-quick time : Sieur Motier, or Generalissimo Lafayette, for they are one and the same, and he is General of France, in the King's stead, for four-and-twenty hours ; Sieur Motier must step forth, with that sublime chivalrous gait of his ; solemnly ascend the steps of the Fatherland's Altar, in sight of Heaven and of the scarcely breathing Earth ; and, under the creak of those swinging Cassolettes, " pressing his sword's point firmly there," pronounce the Oath, To King, to Law, and Na- tion (not to mention "grains" with their circulating), in his own name and that of armed France. Whereat there is waving of banners, and acclaim sufficient. The National Assembly must swear, standing in its place ; the King himself audibly. The King swears ; and now be the welkin split with vivats : let citi- zens enfranchised embrace, each smiting heartily his palm into his fellow's ; and armed Federates clang their arms ; above all, that floating battery speak ! It has spoken, — to the four corners of France. From eminence to eminence bursts the thunder ; faint-heard, loud-repeated. What a stone, cast into what a lake ; in circles that do not grow fainter. From Arras to Avignon ; from Metz to Bayonne ! Over Orleans and Blois it rolls, in cannon-recitative ; Puy bellows of it amid his granite mountains ; Pau where is the shell-cradle of Great Henri. At far Marseilles, one can think, the ruddy evening witnesses it ; over the deep-blue Mediterranean waters, the Castle of If ruddy-tinted darts forth, from every cannon's mouth, its tongue of fire ; and all the people shout : Yes, France is free. O glorious France, that has burst out so ; into universal sound and smoke ; and attained — the Phrygian Cap of Liberty ! In all Towns, Trees of Liberty also may be planted ; with or without advantage. Said we not, it was the highest stretch attained by the Thespian Art on this Planet, or perhaps attainable? The Thespian Art, unfortunately, one must still call it ; for behold there, on this Field of Mars, the National Banners, be- fore there could be any swearing, were to be all blessed. A most proper operation ; since surely without Heaven's blessing be- stowed, say even, audibly or inaudibly sought, no Earthly ban- July 14th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 305 ner or contrivance can prove victorious : but now the means of doing it? By what thrice-divine Frankhn thunder-rod shall miraculous fire be drawn out of Heaven; and descend gently, lifegiving, with health to the souls of men? Alas, by the sim- plest : by Two Hundred shaven-crowned Individuals, '' in snow- white albs, with tricolor girdles," arranged on the steps of Fatherland's Altar; and, at their head for spokesman, Soul's- Overseer Talleyrand-Perigord ! These shall act as miraculous thunder-rod, — to such length as they can. O ye deep azure Heavens, and thou green all-nursing Earth ; ye Streams ever- flowing; deciduous Forests that die and are born again, con- tinually, like the sons of men ; stone Mountains that die daily with every rain-shower, yet are not dead and levelled for ages of ages, nor born again (it seems) but with new world-explo- sions, and such tumultuous seething and tumbling, steam half- way to the Moon ; O thou unfathomable mystic All, garment and dwelling-place of the Unnamed ; and thou, articulate-speaking Spirit of Man, who mouldest and modellest that Unfathomable Unnameable even as we see, — is not there a miracle : That some French mortal should, we say not have believed, but pretended to imagine he believed that Talleyrand and Two Hundred pieces of white Calico could do it ! Here, however, we are to remark with the sorrowing His- torians of that day, that suddenly, while Episcopus Talleyrand, long-stoled, with mitre and tricolor belt, was yet but hitching up the Altar-steps to do his miracle, the material Heaven grew black ; a north-wind, moaning cold moisture, began to sing ; and there descended a very deluge of rain. Sad to see ! The thirty- staired Seats, all round our Amphitheatre, get instantaneously slated with mere umbrellas, fallacious when so thick set : our antique Cassolettes become water-pots ; their incense-smoke gone hissing, in a whifif of muddy vapor. Alas, instead of vivats, there is nothing now but the furious peppering and rattling. From three to four hundred thousand human individuals feel that they have a skin ; happily nnpervious. The General's sash runs water : how all military banners droop ; and will not wave, but lazily flap, as if metamorphosed into painted tin-banners ! Worse, far worse, these hundred thousand, such is the His- torian's testimony, of the fairest of France! Their snowy muslins all splashed and draggled ; the ostrich-feather shrunk shamefully to the backbone of a feather: all caps are ruined; Vol. I. — 20 o 06 CARLYLE [1790 innermost pasteboard molten into its original pap: Beauty no longer swims decorated in her garniture, like Love-goddess hidden-revealed in her Paphian clouds, but struggles in dis- astrous imprisonment in it, for " the shape was noticeable ; " and now only sympathetic interjections, titterings, teheeings, and resolute good-humor will avail. A deluge; an incessant sheet or fluid-column of rain ; — such that our Overseer's very mitre must be filled ; not a mitre, but a filled and leaky fire-bucket on his reverend head ! — Regardless of which, Overseer Talleyrand performs his miracle : the Blessing of Talleyrand, another than that of Jacob, is on all the Eighty-three departmental flags of France ; which wave or flap, with such thankfulness as needs. Towards three o'clock, the sun beams out again : the remaining evolutions can be transacted under bright heavens, though with decorations much damaged. « On Wednesday our Federation is consummated : but the festivities last out the week, and over into the next. Festivities such as no Bagdad Caliph, or Aladdin with the Lamp, could have equalled. There is a Jousting on the River ; with its water- somersets, splashing and haha-ing: Abbe Fauchet, Te Deum Fauchet, preaches, for his part, in the " rotunda of the Corn- Market," a funeral harangue on Franklin ; for whom the Na- tional Assembly has lately gone three days in black. The Motier and Lepelletier tables still groan with viands ; roofs ringing with patriotic toasts. On the fifth evening, w^hich is the Christian Sabbath, there is a universal Ball. Paris, out of doors and in, man, woman and child, is jigging it, to the sound of harp and four-stringed fiddle. The hoariest-headed man will tread one other measure, under this nether Moon; speechless nurslings, infants as we call them, vrjina reKva, crow in arms; and sprawl out numb-plump little limbs, — impatient for muscu- larity, they know not why. The stiffest balk bends more or less ; all joists creak. Or out, on the Earth's breast itself, behold the Ruins of the Bastille. All lamplit, allegorically decorated ; a Tree of Liberty sixty feet high ; and Phrygian Cap on it, of size enormous, under which King Arthur and his round-table might have dined ! In the depths of the background is a single lugubrious lamp, ren- dering dim-visible one of your iron cages, half-buried, and some Prison stones, — Tyranny vanishing downwards, all gone but the a Deux Amis, v. 143-179. July i4th-i8th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 307 skirt : the rest wholly lamp-festoons, trees real or of pasteboard ; in the similitude of a fairy grove ; with this inscription, readable to runner : " Ici I' on danse, Dancing Here." As indeed had been obscurely foreshadowed by Cagliostro^ prophetic Quack of Quacks, when he, four years ago, quitted the grim durance ; — to fall into a glimmer, of the Roman Inquisition, and not quit it. But, after all, what is this Bastille business to that of the Champs Ely sees! Thither, to these Fields well named Elysian, all feet tend. It is radiant as day with festooned lamps ; little oil-cups, like variegated fire-flies, daintily illumine the highest leaves : trees there are all sheeted with variegated fire, shedding far a glimmer into the dubious wood. There, under the free sky, do tight-limbed Federates, with fairest newfound sweet- hearts, elastic as Diana, and not of that coyness and tart humor of Diana, thread their jocund mazes, all through the ambrosial night ; and hearts were touched and fired ; and seldom surely had our old Planet, in that huge conic Shadow of hers, " which goes beyond the Moon, and is named Night," curtained such a Ball-room. Or if, according to Seneca, the very gods look down on a good man struggling with adversity, and smile ; what must they think of Five-and-twenty million indifferent ones victorious over it, — for eight days and more ? In this way, and in such ways, however, has the Feast of Pikes danced itself off: gallant Federates wending home- wards, towards every point of the compass, with feverish nerves, heart and head much heated ; some of them, indeed, as Dampmartin's elderly respectable friend from Strasburg, quite " burnt out with liquors," and flickering towards extinc- tion. ^ The Feast of Pikes has danced itself off, and become defunct, and the ghost of a Feast ; — nothing of it now remain- ing but this vision in men's memory ; and the place that knew it (for the slope of that Champ-de-Mars is crumbled to half the original heighten ) now knowing it no more. Undoubtedly one of the mcmorablest National Ilightides. Never or hardly ever, as we said, was Oath sworn with such heart-effusion, emphasis and expenditure of joyance ; and then it was broken irremediably within year and day. Ah, why? When the swear- ing of it was so heavenly-joyful, bosom clasped to bosom, and b See his Let Ire an Pcnple Franqais (London, 1786). c Dampmartin, Ilvcucmcns, i. 144-184. d Dulaure, Histoirc de Paris, viii. 25. 3o8 CARLYLE [1790 Five-and-twenty million hearts all burning together ; O ye in- exorable Destinies, why? — Partly because it was sworn with such overjoyance; but chiefly, indeed, for an older reason: that Sin had come into the world, and Misery by Sin ! These Five-and-twenty millions, if we will consider it, have now henceforth, with that Phrygian Cap of theirs, no force over them, to bind and guide ; neither in them, more than hereto- fore, is guiding force, or rule of just living: how then, while they all go rushing at such a pace, on unknown ways, with no bridle, towards no aim, can hurlyburly unutterable fail? For verily not Federation-rosepink is the color of this Earth and her work : not by outbursts of noble-sentiment, but with far other ammunition, shall a man front the world. But how wise, in all cases, to " husband your fire ;" to keep it deep down, rather, as genial radical-heat ! Explosions, the forciblest, and never so well directed, are questionable ; far oftenest futile, always frightfully wasteful : but think of a man, of a Nation of men, spending its whole stock of fire in one artificial Firework! So have we seen fond weddings (for individuals, like Nations, have their Hightides) celebrated with an outburst of triumph and deray, at which the elderly shook their heads. Better had a serious cheerfulness been ; for the enterprise was great. Fond pair ! the more triumphant ye feel, and victorious over terrestrial evil, which seems all abolished, the wider-eyed will your disappointment be to find terrestrial evil still extant. " And why extant ? " will each of you cry : " Because my false mate has played the traitor : evil was abolished ; I, for one, meant faithfully, and did, or would have done ! " Whereby the over-sweet moon of honey changes itself into long years of vinegar : perhaps divulsive vinegar, like Hannibal's. Shall we say, then, the French Nation has led Royalty, or wooed and teased poor Royalty to lead her, to the hymeneal Fatherland's Altar, in such over-sweet manner ; and has, most thoughtlessly, to celebrate the nuptials with due shine and demonstration, — burnt her bed? BOOK SECOND. NANCI. Chapter I. — Bouille. DIMLY visible, at Metz on the North-Eastern frontier, a certain brave Bouille, last refuge of Royalty in all straits and meditations of flight, has for many months hovered occasionally in our eye; some name or shadow of a brave Bouille : let us now, for a little, look fixedly at him, till he become a substance and person for us. The man him- self is worth a glance ; his position and procedure there, in these days, will throw light on many things. For it is with Bouille as with all French Commanding Officers ; only in a more emphatic degree. The grand Na- tional Federation, we already guess, was but empty sound, or worse : a last loudest universal Hep-hep-hiirrah, with full bumpers, in that National Lapithse-feast of Constitution- making ; as in loud denial of the palpably existing ; as if, with hurrahings, you would shut out notice of the inevitable, already knocking at the gates ! Which new National bumper, one may say, can but deepen the drunkenness ; and so, the louder it swears Brotherhood, will the sooner and the more surely lead to Cannibalism. Ah, under that fraternal shine and clangor, what a deep world of irreconcilable discords lie mo- mentarily assuaged, damped-down for one moment ! Respect- able military Federates have barely got home to their quarters ; and the inflammablest, " dying, burnt up with liquors and kind- ness," has not yet got extinct ; the shine is hardly out of men's eyes, and still blazes filling all men's memories, — when your discords burst forth again, very considerably darker than ever. Let us look at Bouille, and see how. Bouille for the present commands in the Garrison of Metz, and far and wide over the Fast and North ; being indeed, by a late act of Government with sanction of National Assembly, 309 3IO CARLYLE [1790 appointed one of our Four supreme Generals. Rochambeau and Mailly, men and Marshals of note in these days, though to us of small moment, are two of his colleagues ; tough old babbling Liickner, also of small moment for us, will probably be the third. Marquis de Bouiile is a determined Loyalist ; not indeed disinclined to moderate reform, but resolute against immoderate. A man long suspect to Patriotism ; who has more than once given the august Assembly trouble ; who would not, for example, take the National Oath, as he was bound to do, but always put it off on this or the other pre- text, till an autograph of Majesty requested him to do it as a favor. There, in this post, if not of honor yet of eminence and danger, he waits, in a silent concentrated manner; very dubious of the future. " Alone," as he says, or almost alone, of all the old military Notabilities, he has not emigrated ; but thinks always, in atrabiliar moments, that there will be noth- ing for him too but to cross the marches. He might cross, say, to Treves or Coblentz, where Exiled Princes will be one day ranking ; or say, over into Luxemburg, where old Broglie loiters and languishes. Or is there not the great dim Deep of European Diplomacy ; where your Calonnes, your Breteuils are beginning to hover, dimly discernible? With immeasurable confused outlooks and purposes, with no clear purpose but this of still trying to do his Majesty a service, Bouiile waits ; struggling what he can to keep his district loyal, his troops faithful, his garrisons furnished. He maintains, as yet, with his Cousin Lafayette some thin diplo- matic correspondence, by letter and messenger ; chivalrous constitutional professions on the one side, military gravity and brevity on the other; which thin correspondence one can see growing ever the thinner and hollower, towards the verge of entire vacuity.o A quick, choleric, sharply discerning, stub- bornly endeavoring man ; with supprcssed-explosive resolution, with valor, nay headlong audacity : a man who was more in his place, lionlike defending those Windward Isles, or, as with military tiger-spring, clutching Nevis and Montserrat from the English, — than here in this suppressed condition, muzzled and fettered by diplomatic packthreads ; looking out for a civil war, which may never arrive. Few years ago Bouiile was to have led a French East-Indian Expedition, and o Bouiile, Memoires (London, 1797), i. c. 8. I790] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 311 reconquered or conquered Pondicherry and the Kingdoms of the Sun : but the whole world is suddenly changed, and he with it ; Destiny willed it not in that way, but in this. Chapter II. — Arrears and Aristocrats. Indeed, as to the general outlook of things, Bouille him- self augurs not well of it. The French Army, ever since those old Bastille days, and earlier, has been universally in the ques- tionablest state, and growing daily worse. Discipline, which is at all times a kind of miracle, and works by faith, broke down then ; one sees not with what near prospect of recov- ering itself. The Gardes Francjaises played a deadly game ; but how they won it, and wear the prizes of it, all men know. In that general overturn, we saw the hired Fighters refuse to fight. The very Swiss of Chateau- Vieux, which indeed is a kind of French Swiss, from Geneva and the Pays de Vaud, are understood to have declined. Deserters glided over ; Royal- Allemand itself looked disconsolate, though stanch of purpose. In a word, we there saw Military Rule, in the shape of poor Besenval with that convulsive unmanageable Camp of his> pass two martyr-days on the Champ-de-Mars ; and then, veil- ing itself, so to speak, " under cloud of night," depart " down the left bank of the Seine," to seek refuge elsewhere ; this ground having clearly become too hot for it. But what new ground to seek, what remedy to try Quar- ters that were "uninfected:" this doubtless, with judicious strictness of drilling, were the plan. Alas, in all quarters and places, from Paris onward to the remotest hamlet, is infec- tion, is seditious contagion : inhaled, propagated by contact and converse, till the dullest soldier catch it ! There is speech of men in uniform with men not in uniform; men in uniform read journals, and even write in them.o There are public peti- tions or remonstrances, private emissaries and associations ; there is discontent, jealousy, uncertainty, sullen suspicious humor. The whole French Army fermenting in dark heat, glooms ominous, boding good to no one. So that, in the general social dissolution and revolt, we are to have this deepest and dismalest kind of it, a revolting sol- a See Newspapers of July 1789 (in Hist. Pari. ii. 35), &c. 312 CARLYLE 1 1 790 diery? Barren, desolate to look upon is this same business of revolt under all its aspects ; but how infinitely more so, when it takes the aspect of military mutiny! The very implement of rule and restraint, whereby all the rest was managed and held in order, has become precisely the frightfulest immeas- urable implement of misrule; like the element of Fire, our indispensable all-ministering servant, when it gets the mastery, and becomes conflagration. Discipline we called a kind of miracle: in fact, is it not miraculous how one man moves hundreds of thousands; each unit of whom, it may be, loves him not, and singly fears him not, yet has to obey him, to go hither or go thither, to march and halt, to give death, and even to receive it, as if a Fate had spoken ; and the word- of-command becomes, almost in the literal sense, a magic- word? Which magic-word, again, if it be once forgotten; the spell of it once broken ! The legions of assiduous ministering spirits rise on you now as menacing fiends ; your free orderly arena becomes a tumult-place of the Nether Pit, and the hapless magician is rent limb from limb. Military mobs are mobs with muskets in their hands; and also with death hanging over their heads, for death is the penalty of disobedience, and they have disobeyed. And now if all mobs are properly frenzies, and work frenetically with mad fits of hot and of cold, fierce rage alternating so incoherently with panic terror, consider what your military mob will be, with such a conflict of duties and penalties, whirled between remorse and fury, and, for the hot fit, loaded fire-arms in its hand! To the soldier himself, revolt is frightful, and oftenest perhaps pitiable; and yet so dangerous, it can only be hated, cannot be pitied. An anoma- lous class of mortals these poor Hired Killers ! With a frank- ness, which to the Moralist in these times seems surprising, they have sworn to become machines ; and nevertheless they are still partly men. Let no prudent person in authority re- mind them of this latter fact; but always let force, let injustice above all, stop short clearly on this side of the rebounding- point! Soldiers, as we often say, do revolt: were it not so, several things which are transient in this world might be perennial. Over and above the general quarrel which all sons of Adam maintain with their lot here below, the grievances of I790] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 313 the French soldiery reduce themselves to two. First, that their Officers arc Aristocrats ; secondly, that they cheat them of their Pay. Two grievances ; or rather we might say one, capable of becoming a hundred ; for in that single first propo- sition, that the Of^cers are Aristocrats, what a multitude of corollaries lie ready ! It is a bottomless ever-flowing fountain of grievances this ; what you may call a general raw-material of grievance, wherefrom individual grievance after grievance will daily body itself forth. Nay there will even be a kind of comfort in getting it, from time to time, so embodied. Pecula- tion of one's Pay ! It is embodied ; made tangible, made denounceable ; exhalable, if only in angry words. For unluckily that grand fountain of grievances does exist: Aristocrats almost all our Officers necessarily are ; they have it in the blood and bone. By the law of the case, no man can pretend to be the pitifulest lieutenant of militia till he have first verified, to the satisfaction of the Lion-King, a Nobility of four generations. Not nobility only, but four gen- erations of it : this latter is the improvement hit upon, in com- paratively late years, by a certain War-minister much pressed for commissions. ^ An improvement which did relieve the op- pressed War-minister, but which split France still further into yawning contrasts of Commonalty and Nobility, nay of new Nobility and old ; as if already with your new and old, and then with your old, older and oldest, there were not con- trasts and discrepancies enough ; — the general clash whereof men now see and hear, and in the singular whirlpool, all con- trasts gone together to the bottom ! Gone to the bottom or going ; with uproar, without return ; going everywhere save in the Military section of things ; and there, it may be asked, can they hope to continue always at the top ? Apparently, not. It is true, in a time of external Peace, when there is no fighting, but only drilling, this question. How you rise from the ranks, may seem theoretical rather. But in reference to the Rights of Man it is continually practical. The soldier has sworn to be faithful not to the King only, but to the Law and the Nation. Do our commanders love the Revolution? ask all soldiers. Unhappily no, they hate it, and love the Counter- Revolution. Young epauletted men, with quality-blood in them, poisoned with quality-pride, do snifif openly, with indignation b Dampmartin, Evencmcns, \. 80. 314 CARLYLE [1790 struggling; tc become contempt, at our Rights of Man, as at some newfangled cobweb, which shall be brushed down again. Old Officers, more cautious, keep silent, with closed uncurled lips ; but one guesses what is passing within. Nay who knows, how, under the plausiblest word of command, might lie Counter-Revolution itself, sale to Exiled Princes and the Austrian Kaiser : treacherous Aristocrats hoodwinking the small insight of us common men? — In such manner works that general raw-material of grievance; disastrous; instead of trust and reverence, breeding hate, endless suspicion, the impossibility of commanding and obeying. And now when this second more tanglible grievance has articulated itself uni- versally in the mind of the common man: Peculation of his Pay ! Peculation of the despicablest sort does exist, and has long existed ; but, unless the new-declared Rights of Man, and all rights whatsoever, be a cobweb, it shall no longer exist. The French Military System seems dying a sorrowful suicidal death. Nay more, citizen, as is natural, ranks himself against citizen in this cause. The soldier finds audience, of numbers and sympathy unlimited, among the Patriot lower- classes. Nor are the higher wanting to the officer. The officer still dresses and perfumes himself for such sad unemigrated soiree as there may still be ; and speaks his woes, — which woes, are they not Majesty's and Nature's? Speaks, at the same time, his gay defiance, his firm-set resolution. Citizens, still more Citizenesses, see the right and the wrong; not the Military System alone will die by suicide, but much along with it. As was said, there is yet possible a deeper overturn than any yet witnessed : that deepest upturn of the black-burning sulphurous stratum whereon all rests and grows ! But how these things may act on the rude soldier-mind, with its military pedantries, its inexperience of all that lies ofif the parade-ground ; inexperience as of a child, yet fierceness of a man, and vehemence of a Frenchman ! It is long that secret communings in mess-room and guard-room, sour looks, thousandfold petty vexations between commander and com- manded, measure everywhere the weary military day. Ask Captain Dampmartin ; an authentic, ingenious literary officer of horse ; who loves the Reign of Liberty, after a sort : yet has had his heart grieved to the quick many times, in the hot I790] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 315 South-Western region and elsewhere ; and has seen riot, civil battle by daylight and by torchlight, and anarchy hatefuler than death. How insubordinate Troopers, with drink in their heads, meet Captain Dampmartin and another on the ram- parts, where there is no escape or side-path ; and make mili- tary salute punctually, for we look calm on them ; yet make it in a snappish, almost insulting manner: how one morning they " leave all their chamois-shirts " and superfluous buffs, which they are tired of, laid in piles at the Captains' doors ; whereat " we laugh," as the ass does eating thistles : nay how they " knot two forage-cords together," with universal noisy cursing, with evident intent to hang the Quartermaster : — all this the worthy Captain, looking on it through the ruddy-and- sable of fond regretful memory, has flowingly written down.c Men growl in vague discontent ; officers fling up their com- missions and emigrate in disgust. Or let us ask another literary Officer ; not yet Captain ; Sub- lieutenant only, in the Artillery Regiment La Fere : a young man of twenty-one ; not unentitled to speak ; the name of him is Napoleon Buonaparte. To such height of Sublieutenancy has he now got promoted, from Brienne School, five years ago; " being found qualified in mathematics by La Place." He is lying at Auxonne, in the West, in these months ; not sump- tuously lodged — " in the house of a Barber, to whose wife he did not pay the customary degree of respect ;" or even over at the Pavilion, in a chamber with bare walls ; the only fur- niture an indifferent " bed without curtains, two chairs, and in the recess of a window a table covered with books and papers: his Brother Louis sleeps on a coarse mattress in an adjoining room." However, he is doing something great :-n writing his first Book or Pamphlet, — eloquent vehement Letter to M. Matteo Buftafuoeo, our Corsican Deputy, who is not a Patriot, but an Aristocrat unworthy of Dcputyship. Joly of . Dole is Publisher. The literary Sublieutenant corrects the^ proofs ; " sets out on foot from Auxonne every morning at four o'clock, for Dole : after looking over the proofs, he par- takes of an extremely frugal breakfast with Joly, and immedi- ately prepares for returning to his Garrison ; where he arrives before noon, having thus walked above twenty miles in the course of the morning." c Dampmartin, Ev6nemens, i. 122-146. 3i6 CARLYLE [1790 This Sublieutenant can remark that, in drawing-rooms, on streets, on highways, at inns, everywhere men's minds are ready to kindle into a flame. That a Patriot, if he appear in the drawing-room, or amid a group of officers, is liable enough to be discouraged, so great is the majority against him : but no sooner does he get into the street, or among the soldiers, than he feels again as if the whole Nation were with him. That after the famous Oath, To the King, to the Nation, and Law, there was a great change ; that before this, if ordered to fire on the people, he for one would have done it in the King's name ; but that after this, in the Nation's name, he would not have done it. Likewise that the Patriot officers, more numerous too in the Artillery and Engineers than else- where, were few in number ; yet that having the soldiers on their side, they ruled the regiment ; and did often deliver the Aristocrat brother officer out of peril and strait. One day, for example, " a member of our own mess roused the mob, by singing from the windows of our dining-room, O Richard, O my King; and I had to snatch him from their fury." d All which let the reader multiply by ten thousand ; and spread it, with slight variations, over all the camps and gar- risons of France. The French Army seems on the verge of universal mutiny. Universal mutiny ! There is in that what may well make Patriot Constitutionalism and an august Assembly shudder. Something behooves to be done ; yet what to do no man can tell. Mirabeau proposes even that the Soldiery, having come to such a pass, be forthwith disbanded, the whole Two Hun- dred and Eighty Thousand of them ; and organized anew.^ Impossible this, in so sudden a manner ! cry all men. And yet literally, answer we, it is inevitable, in one manner or another. Such an army, with its four-generation Nobles, its peculated Pay, and men knotting forage-cords to hang their Quartermaster, cannot subsist beside such a Revolution. Your alternative is a slow-pining chronic dissolution and new or- ganization ; or a swift decisive one ; the agonies spread over years, or concentrated into an hour. With a Mirabeau for Minister or Governor, the latter had been the choice ; with no Mirabeau for Governor, it will naturally be the former. rf Norvins, Histoirc dc Napoleon, i. 47; Las Cases, Mcmoires (trans- lated into ITazlitt's Life of Napoleon, i. 23-31). e Moniteur, 1790, No. 233. August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 317 Chapter III. — Bouilld at Metz. To Bouille, in his North-Eastern circle, none of these things are altogether hid. Many times flight over the marches gleams-out on him as the last guidance in such bewilderment ; nevertheless he continues here ; struggling always to hope the best, not from new organization, but from happy Counter- Revolution and return to the old. For the rest, it is clear to him that this same National Federation, and universal swearing and fraternizing of People and Soldiers, has done " incalculable mischief." So much that fermented secretly has hereby got vent, and become open : National Guards and Sol- diers of the line, solemnly embracing one another on all parade- fields, drinking, swearing patriotic oaths, fall into disorderly street-processions, constitutional unmilitary exclamations and hurrahings. On which account the Regiment Picardie, for one, has to be drawn out in the square of the barracks, here at Metz, and sharply harangued by the General himself; but expresses penitence./^ Far and near, as accounts testify, insubordination has begun grumbling louder and louder. Officers have been seen shut up in their mess-rooms ; assaulted with clamorous demands, not without menaces. The insubordinate ringleader is dis- missed with " yellow furlough," yellow infamous thing they call cartouche jatine: but ten new ringleaders rise in his stead, and the yellow cartouche ceases to be thought disgraceful. " Within a fortnight," or at furthest a month, of that sublime Feast of Pikes, the whole French Army, demanding Arrears, forming Reading Clubs, frequenting Popular Societies, is in a state which Bouille can call by no name but that of mutiny. Bouille knows it as few do; and speaks by dire experience. Take one instance instead of many. It is still an early day of August, the precise date now undiscoverable, when Bouille, about to set out for the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, is once more suddenly summoned to the barracks of Metz. The soldiers stand ranged in fighting order, muskets loaded, the officers all there on compulsion ; and required with many-voiced emphasis to have their arrears paid. Picardie was penitent ; but we see it has relapsed : the /Bouille, Memoircs, i. 113. 31 8 CARLYLE [179° wide space bristles and lours with mere mutinous armed men. Brave Bouille advances to the nearest Regiment, opens his commanding lips to harangue ; obtains nothing but querulous- indignant discordance, and the sound of so many thousand livres legally due. The moment is trying; there are some ten thousand soldiers now in Metz, and one spirit seems to have spread among them. Bouille is firm as the adamant; but what shall he do? A German Regiment, named of Salm, is thought to be of better temper : nevertheless Salm too may have heard of the precept. Thou shalt not steal; Salm too may know that money is money. Bouille walks trustfully towards the Regiment de Salm, speaks trustful words; but here again is answered by the cry of forty-four thousand livres odd sous. A cry waxing more and more vociferous, as Salm's humor mounts; which cry, as it will produce no cash or promise of cash, ends in the wide simultaneous whirr of shouldered muskets, and a determined quick-time march on the part of Salm — towards its Colonel's house, in the next street, there to seize the colors and military chest. Thus does Salm, for its part; strong in the faith that meum is not tmtvt, that fair speeches are not forty-four thousand livres odd sous. Unrestrainable ! Salm tramps to military time, quick con- suming the way. Bouille and the officers, drawing sword, have to dash into double-quick pas-de-charge, or unmilitary running ; to eet the start; to station themselves on the outer staircase, and stand there with what of death-defiance and sharp steel they have ; Salm truculently coiling itself up, rank after rank, opposite them, in such humor as we can fancy, which hap- pily has not yet mounted to the murder-pitch. There will Bouille stand, certain at least of one man's purpose : in grim calmness, awaiting the issue. What the intrepidest of men and generals can do is done. Bouille, though there is a barricad- ing picket at each end of the street, and death under his eyes, contrives to send for a Dragoon Regiment with orders to charge: the dragoon officers mount, the dragoon men will not : hope is none there for him. The street, as we say, bar- ricaded ; the Earth all shut out, only the indififcrcnt heavenly Vault overhead: perhaps here or there a timorous house- holder peering out of window, with prayer for Bouille ; copious Rascality, on the pavement, with prayer for Salm: there do August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 319 the two parties stand ; — like chariots locked in a narrow thor- oughfare; like locked w^restlers at a dead-grip! For two hours they stand : Bouille's sword glittering in his hand, adamantine resolution clouding his brows : for two hours by the clocks of Metz. Moody-silent stands Salm, with occasional clangor; but does not fire. Rascality, from time to time, urges some grenadier to level his musket at the General ; who looks on it as a bronze General would : and always some corporal or other strikes it up. In such remarkable attitude, standing on that staircase for two hours, does brave Bouille, long a shadow, dawn on us visibly out of the dimness, and become a person. For the rest, since Salm has not shot him at the first instant, and since in himself there is no variableness, the danger will diminish. The Mayor, " a man infinitely respectable," with his Munici- pals and tricolor sashes, finally gains entrance ; remonstrates, perorates, promises ; gets Salm persuaded home to its bar- racks. Next day, our respectable Mayor lending the money, the officers pay-down the half of the demand in ready cash. With which liquidation Salm pacifies itself ; and for the present all is hushed up, as much as may h&.g Such scenes as this of Metz, or preparations and demon- strations towards such, are universal over France : Damp- martin, with his knotted forage-cords and piled chamois- jackets, is at Strasburg, in the South-East ; in these same days or rather nights. Royal Champagne is " shouting Vive la Nation, an diable les Aristocrates, with some thirty lit candles," at Hesdin, on the far North-West. " The garrison of Bitche," Deputy Rewbell is sorry to state, " went out of the town with drums beating ; deposed its officers ; and then returned into the town, sabre in hand."/f Ought not a Na- tional Assembly to occupy itself with these objects? Military France is everywhere full of sour inflammatory humor, which exhales itself fuliginously, this way or that : a whole con- tinent of smoking flax ; which, blown on here or there by any angry wind, might so easily start into a blaze, into a con- tinent of fire. Constitutional Patriotism is in (\qq\) natural alarm at these things. The august Assembly sits diligently deliberating; dare nowise resolve, with Mirabcau, on an instantaneous dishand- g Bouille, i. 140-5. liMoniteur (in Hist. Pari. vii. 29). C.2 CARLYLE [1790 ment and extinction; finds that a course of palliatives is easier. But at least and lowest, this grievance of the Arrears shall be rectified. A plan, much noised of in those days, under the name " Decree of the Sixth of August," has been devised for that. Inspectors shall visit all armies; and, with certain elected corporals and " soldiers able to write," verify what arrears and peculations do lie due, and make them good. Well if in this way the smoky heat be cooled down ; if it be not, as we say, ventilated overmuch, or, by sparks and collision somewhere, sent up! Chapter IV.— Arrears at Nanci. We are to remark, however, that of all districts, this of Bouille's seems the inflammablest. It was always to Bouille and Metz that Royalty would fly: Austria lies near; here more than elsewhere must the disunited People look over the borders, into a dim sea of Foreign Politics and Diplomacies, with hope or apprehension, with mutual exasperation. It was but in these days that certain Austrian troops, marching peaceably across an angle of this region, seemed an Invasion realized; and there rushed towards Stenai, with musket on shoulder, from all the winds, some thirty thousand National Guards, to inquire what the matter was.i A matter of mere diplomacy it proved ; the Austrian Kaiser, in haste to get to Belgium, had bargained for this short cut. The in- finite dim movement of European politics waved a skirt over these spaces, passing on its way ; like the passing shadow of a condor; and such a winged flight of thirty thousand, with mixed cackling and crowing, rose in consequence ! For, in addition to all, this people, as we said, is much divided : Aris- tocrats abound ; Patriotism has both Aristocrats and Aus- trians to watch. It is Lorraine, this region ; not so illuminated as old France : it remembers ancient Feudalisms ; nay within man's memory it had a Court and King of its own, or indeed the splendor of a Court and King, without the burden. Then, contrariwise, the Mother Society, which sits in the Jacobins Church at Paris, has Daughters in the Towns here; shrill- tongued, driven acrid : consider how the memory of good King Stanislaus, and ages of Imperial Feudalism, may com- iMoniteur, Seance du 9 Aout 1790. August] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 321 port with this New acrid Evangel, and what a virulence of discord there may be ! In all which, the Soldiery, officers on one side, private men on the other, takes part, and now indeed principal part; a Soldiery, moreover, all the hotter here as it lies the denser, the frontier Province requiring more of it. So stands Lorraine: but the capital City more especially so. The pleasant City of Nanci, which faded Feudalism loves, where King Stanislaus personally dwelt and shone, has an Aristocrat Alunicipality, and then also a Daughter Society: it has some forty thousand divided souls of population ; and three large Regiments, one of which is Swiss Chateau-Vieux, dear to Patriotism ever since it refused fighting, or was thought to refuse, in the Bastille days. Here unhappily all evil influences seem to meet concentred ; here, of all places, may jealousy and heat evolve itself. These many months, ac- cordingly, man has been set against man. Washed against Unwashed ; Patriot Soldier against Aristocrat Captain, ever the more bitterly : and a long score of grudges has been running up. Nameable grudges, and likewise unnameable: for there is a punctual nature in Wrath ; and daily, were there but glances of the eye, tones of the voice, and minutest commissions or omissions, it will jot-down somewhat, to account, under the head of sundries, which always swells the sum-total. For ex- ample, in April last, in those times of preliminary Federation, when National Guards and Soldiers were everywhere swearing brotherhood, and all France was locally federating, preparing for the grand National Feast of Pikes, it was observed that these Nanci officers threw cold water on the whole brotherly business ; that they first hung back from appearing at the Nanci Federation ; then did appear, but in mere rcdingote and undress, with scarcely a clean shirt on ; nay that one of them, as the National Colors flaunted by in that solemn moment, did, without visible necessity, take occasion to spit. J Small "sundries as per journal," but then incessant ones ! The Aristocrat Municipality, pretending to be Constitutional, keeps mostly quiet ; not so the Daughter Society, the five thousand adult male Patriots of the place, still less the nve thousand female: not so the young, whiskered or whisker- less, four-generation Noblesse in epaulettes ; the grim Patriot j DcMx Amis, v. 217. Vol. I. — 21 32 2 CARLYLE [1790 Swiss of Chateau-Vieux, effervescent infantry of Regiment du Roi, hot troopers of Mestre-de-Camp ! Walled Nanci, which stands so bright and trim, with its strajght streets, spacious squares, and Stanislaus' Architecture, on the fruitful alluvium of the Meurthe ; so bright, amid the yellow corn- fields in these Reaper-Months, — is inwardly but a den of dis- cord, anxiety, inflammability, not far from exploding. Let Bouille look to it. If that universal military heat, which we liken to a vast continent of smoking flax, do anywhere take fire, his beard, here in Lorraine and Nanci, may the most readily of all get singed by it. Bouille, for his part, is busy enough, but only with the general superintendence ; getting his pacified Salm, and all other still tolerable Regiments, marched out of Metz, to south- ward towns and villages ; to rural cantonments as at Vic, Marsal and thereabout, by the still waters ; where is plenty of horse-forage, sequestered parade-ground, and the soldier's speculative faculty can be stilled by drilling. Salm, as we said, received only half-payment of arrears ; naturally not without grumbling. Nevertheless that scene of the drawn sword may, after all, have raised Bouille in the mind of Salm ; for men and soldiers love intrepidity and swift inflexible decision, even when they suffer by it. As indeed is not this fundamentally the quality of qualities for a man? A quality which by itself is next to nothing, since inferior animals, asses, dogs, even mules have it ; yet, in due combination, it is the indispensable basis of all. Of Nanci and its heats, Bouille, commander of the whole, knows nothing special : understands generally that the troops in that City are perhaps the worst.k The Officers there have it all, as they have long had it, to themselves ; and unhappily seem to manage it ill. " Fifty yellow furloughs," given out in one batch, do surely betoken difficulties. But what was Patriotism to think of certain light-fencing Fusileers " set on," or supposed to be set on, " to insult the Grenadier-club," — considerate speculative Grenadiers and that reading-room of theirs? With shoutings, with hootings ; till the specula- tive Grenadier drew his side-arms too ; and there ensued battery and duels! Nay more, are not swashbucklers of the same stamp " sent out " visibly, or sent out presumably, now k Bouill6, i. c. 9. Auuust] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 323 in the dress of Soldiers to pick quarrels with the Citizens; now, disguised as Citizens, to pick quarrels with the Soldiers? For a certain Roussiere, expert in fence, was taken in the very fact; four Officers (presumably of tender years) hound- ing him on, who thereupon fled precipitately ! Fence-master Roussiere, haled to the guardhouse, had sentence of three months' imprisonment : but his comrades demanded " yellow furlough for him of all persons ; nay thereafter they produced him on parade ; capped him in paper-helmet, inscribed Iscariot; marched him to the gate of the City ; and there sternly com- manded him to vanish forevermore. On all which suspicions, accusations and noisy procedure, and on enough of the like continually accumulating, the Officer could not but look with disdainful indignation; per- haps disdainfully express the same in words, and " soon after fly over to the Austrians." So that when it here, as elsewhere, comes to the question of Arrears, the humor and procedure is of the bitterest : Regi- ment Mestre-de-Camp getting, amid loud clamor, some three gold louis a-man, — which have, as usual, to be borrowed from the Municipality ; Swiss Chateau-Vieuv applying for the like, but getting instead instantaneous courrois, or cat-o'-nine-tails, with subsequent unsufiferable hisses from the women and chil- dren: Regiment du Roi, sick of hope deferred, at length seiz- ing its military chest, and marching it to quarters, but next day marching it back again, through streets all struck silent : — unordered paradings and clamors, not without strong liquor ; objurgation, insubordination ; your military ranked Arrange- ment going all (as the Typographers say of set types, in a similar case) rapidly to pie .'I Such is Nanci in these early days of August ; the sublime Feast of Pikes not yet a month old. Constitutional Patriotism, at Paris and elsewhere, may well quake at the news. War-Minister Latour du Pin runs breath- less to the National Assembly, with a written message that " all is burning, tout bride, tout presse." The National As- sembly, on the spur of the instant, renders such Decrct, and "order to submit and repent," as he requires; if it will avail anything. On the other hand, Journalism, through all its throats, gives hoarse outcry, condemnatory, elegiac-applausive. The Forty-eight Sections lift up voices; sonorous Brewer, or / Deux Amis, v. c. 8. 324 CARLYLE [1790 call him now Colonel Santerre, is not silent, in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. For, meanwhile, the Nanci soldiers have sent a Deputation of Ten, furnished with documents and proofs; who will tell another story than the " all-is-burning " one. Which deputed Ten, before ever they reach the Assembly Hall, assiduous Latour du Pin picks up, and, on warrant of Mayor Bailly, claps in prison ! Most unconstitutionally ; for they had officers' furloughs. Whereupon Saint-Antoine, in indignant uncertainty of the future, closes its shops. Is Bouille a traitor, then, sold to Austria? In that case, these poor pri- vate sentinels have revolted mainly out of Patriotism? New Deputation, Deputation of National Guardsmen now, sets forth from Nanci to enlighten the Assembly. It meets the old deputed Ten returning, quite unexpectedly wnhanged ; and proceeds thereupon with better prospects ; but effects nothing. Deputations, Government Messengers, Orderlies at hand-gallop, Alarms, thousand-voiced Rumors, go vibrating continually ; backwards and forwards, — scattering distraction. Not till the last week of August does M. de Malseigne, selected as Inspector, get down to the scene of the mutiny ; with Authority, with cash, and " Decree of the Sixth of August." He now shall see these Arrears liquidated, justice done, or at least tumult quashed. Chapter V. — Inspector Malseigne. Of Inspector Malseigne we discern, by direct light, that he is " of Herculean stature ;" and infer, with probability, that he is of truculent mustachioed aspect, — for Royalist Officers now leave the upper lip unshaven ; that he is of indomitable bull- heart ; and also, unfortunately, of thick bull-head. On Tuesday the 24th of August 1790, he opens session as inspecting Commissioner ; meets those " elected corporals, and soldiers that can write." He finds the accounts of Chateau- Vieux to be complex ; to require delay and reference : he takes to haranguing, to reprimanding; ends amid audible grumbling. Next morning, he resumes session, not at the Townhall as prudent Municipals counselled, but once more at the barracks. Unfortunately Chateau- Vieux, grumbling all night, will now hear of no delay or reference ; from repri- Aug. 28th-29th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 325 manding on his part, it goes to bullying, — answered with continual cries of " Jugea tout de suite, Judge it at once;" whereupon M. de Malseigne will off in a huff". But lo, Cha- teau-Vieux, swarming all about the barrack-court, has sen- tries at every gate ; M. de Malseigne, demanding egress, can- not get it, not though Commandant Denoue backs him, can get only " Jugcz tout de suite." Here is a nodus ! Bull-hearted M. de Malseigne draws his sword ; and will force egress. Confused splutter. M. de Malseigne's sword breaks ; he snatches Commandant Denoue's : the sentry is wounded. M. de Malseigne, whom one is loth to kill, does force egress, — followed by Chateau-Vieux all in disarray ; a spectacle to Nanci. M. de Malseigne walks at a sharp pace, yet never runs ; wheeling from time to time, with menaces and movements of fence ; and so reaches Denoue's house, unhurt ; which house Chateau-Vieux, in an agitated manner, invests, — hindered as yet from entering, by a crowd of officers formed on the staircase. M. de Malseigne retreats by back ways to the Townhall, flustered though undaunted ; amid an escort of National Guards. From the Towmhall he, on the morrow, emits fresh orders, fresh plans of settlement with Chateau-Vieux ; to none of which will Chateau-Vieux listen : whereupon he finally, amid noise enough, emits order that Chateau-Vieux shall march on the morrow morning, and quarter at Sarre Louis. Chateau-Vieux flatly refuses march- ing; M. de Malseigne "takes act," due notarial protest, of such refusal, — if happily that may avail him. This is the end of Thursday; and, indeed, of M. de Mal- seigne's Inspectorship, which has lasted some fifty hours. To such length, in fifty hours, has he unfortunately brought it. Mestre-de-Camp and Regiment du Roi hang, as it were, flut- tering ; Chateau-Vieux is clean gone, in what way we see. Over-night, an Aide-de-Camp of Lafayette's, stationed here for such emergency, sends swift emissaries far and wide to summon National Guards. The slumber of the country is broken by clattering hoofs, by loud fraternal knockings ; everywhere the Constitutional Patriot must clutch his fighting- gear, and take the road for Nanci. And thus the Herculean Inspector has sat all Thursday, among terror-struck Municipals, a centre of confused noise: all Thursday, Friday, and till Saturday towards noon. Cha- 326 CARLYLE [1790 teau-Vieux, in spite of the notarial protest, will not march a step. As many as four thousand National Guards are drop- ping or pouring in; uncertain what is expected of them, still more uncertain what will be obtained of them. For all is uncertainty, commotion and suspicion : there goes a word that Bouille, beginning to bestir himself in the rural Can- tonments eastward, is but a Royalist traitor ; that Chateau- Vieux and Patriotism are sold to Austria, of which latter M. de Malseigne is probably some agent. Mestre-de-Camp and Roi flutter still more questionably: Chateau- Vieux, far from marching, " waves red flags out of two carriages," in a passion- ate manner, along the streets ; and next morning answers its Officers : " Pay us, then ; and we will march with you to the world's end ! " Under which circumstances, towards noon on Saturday, M. de Malseigne thinks it were good perhaps to inspect the ramparts, — on horseback. He mounts, accordingly, with escort of three troopers. At the gate of the City, he bids two of them wait for his return ; and with the third, a trooper to be depended upon, he — gallops ofif for Luneville ; where lies a certain Carbineer Regiment not yet in a mutinous state ! The two left troopers soon get uneasy ; discover how it is, and give the alarm. Mestre-de-Camp, to the number of a hundred, saddles in frantic haste, as if sold to Austria; gallops out pellmell in chase of its Inspector. And so they spur, and the Inspector spurs ; career- ing, with noise and jingle, up the valley of the River Meurthe, towards Luneville and the midday sun : through an astonished country ; indeed almost to their own astonishment. What a hunt ; Actason-like ; — which Actseon de Malseigne happily gains. To arms, ye Carbineers of Luneville: to chas- tise mutinous men, insulting your General Officer, insulting your own quarters ; — above all things, fire soon, lest there be parleying and ye refuse to fire ! The Carbineers fire soon, ex- ploding upon the first stragglers of Mestre-de-Camp ; who shriek at the very flash, and fall back hastily on Nanci, in a state not far from distraction. Panic and fury : sold to Austria without an if; so much per regiment, the very sums can be specified ; and traitorous Malseigne is fled ! Help, O Heaven ; help, thou Earth, — ye unwashed Patriots ; ye too are sold like us ! Efi^ervescent Regiment du Roi primes its firelocks, Mestre- de-Camp saddles wholly: Commandant Denoue is seized, is August 29th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 327 flung in prison with a " canvas-shirt {sarreau de toile)," about him ; Chateau-Vieux bursts-up the magazines ; distributes " three thousand fusils " to a Patriot people : Austria shall have a hot bargain. Alas, the unhappy hunting-dogs, as we said, have hunted axvay their huntsman ; and do now run howling and baying, on what trail they know not ; nigh rabid ! And so there is tumultuous march of men, through the night ; with halt on the heights of Flinval, whence Luneville can be seen all illuminated. Then there is parley, at four in the morning; and reparley ; finally there is agreement : the Carbineers gave in ; Malseigne is surrendered, with apologies on all sides. After weary confused hours, he is even got under way; the Lunevillers all turning out, in the idle Sunday, to see such de- parture : home-going of mutinous Mestre-de-Camp with its Inspector captive. Mestre-de-Camp accordingly marches; the Lunevillers look. See ! at the corner of the first street, our In- spector bounds off again, bull-hearted as he is ; amid the slash of sabres, the crackle of musketry ; and escapes, full gallop, with only a ball lodged in his hn^-jcrkin. The Herculean man ! And yet it is an escape to no purpose. For the Carbineers, to whom after the hardest Sunday's ride on record, he has come circling back, " stand deliberating by their nocturnal watch-fires ; " de- liberating of Austria, of traitors, and the rage of Mestre-de- Camp. So that, on the whole, the next sight we have is that of M. de Malseigne, on the Monday afternoon, faring bull-hearted through the streets of Nanci ; in open carriage, a soldier stand- ing over him with drawn sword ; amid the " furies of the wom- en," hedges of National Guards, and confusion of Babel : to the Prison beside Commandant Denoue ! That finally is the lodging of Inspector Malseigne.o Surely it is time Bouille were drawing near. The Country all round, alarmed with watch-fires, illuminated towns, and marching and rout, has been sleepless these several nights. Nanci, with its uncertain National Guards, with its distributed fusils, mutinous soldiers, black panic and redhot ire, is not a City but a Bedlam. a Deux Amis, v. 206-251; Newspapers and Documents (in Hist. Pari. vii. 59-162). 328 CARLYLE [1790 Chapter VI. — Bouille at Nanci. Haste with help, thou brave Bouille : if swift help come not, all is now verily " burning ; " and may burn, — to what lengths and breadths ! Much, in these hours, depends on Bouille ; as it shall now fare with him, the whole Future may be this way or be that. If, for example, he were to loiter dubitating, and not come ; if he were to come, and fail : the whole Soldiery of France to blaze into mutiny, National Guards going some this way, some that ; and Royalism to draw its rapier, and Sansculottism to snatch its pike ; and the Spirit of Jacobinism, as yet young, girt with sun-rays, to grow instantaneously mature, girt with hell-fire, — as mortals, in one night of deadly crisis, have had their heads turned gray ! Brave Bouille is advancing fast, with the old inflexibility ; gathering himself, unhappily " in small affluences," from East, from West and North ; and now on Tuesday morning, the last day of the month, he stands all concentred, unhappily still in small force, at the village of Frouarde, within some few miles. Son of Adam with a more dubious task before him is not in the world this Tuesday morning. A weltering inflammable sea of doubt and peril, and Bouille sure of simply one thing, his own determination. Which one thing, indeed, may be worth many. He puts a most firm face on the matter : " Submission, or unsparing battle and destruction ; twenty- four hours to make your choice ; " this was the tenor of his Proclamation ; thirty copies of which he sent yesterday to Nanci : — all which, we find, were intercepted and not posted.^ Nevertheless, at half-past eleven this morning, seemingly by way of answer, there does wait on him at Frouarde some Depu- tation from the mutinous Regiments, from the Nanci Munici- pals, to see what can be done. Bouille receives this Deputation " in a large open court adjoining his lodging: " pacified Salm, and the rest, attend also, being invited to do it, — all happily still in the right humor. The Mutineers pronounce themselves with a decisiveness, which to Bouille seems insolence ; and happily to Salm also. Salm, forgetful of the Mctz staircase and sabre, demands that the scoundrels " be hanged " there and then. ft Compare Bonille, Memoires, 1. 153-176; Deux Amis, v. 251-271, Hist. Pari, ubi supra. August 31st] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 329 Bouille represses the hanging ; but answers that mntinous Sol- diers have one course, and not more than one : To Hberate, with heartfelt contrition, Messieurs Denoue and De Malseigne ; to get ready forthwith for marching off, whither he shall order ; and " submit and repent," as the National Assembly has decreed, as he yesterday did in thirty printed Placards proclaim. These are his terms, unalterable as the decrees of Destiny. Which terms as they, the Mutineer deputies, seemingly do not accept, it were good for them to vanish from this spot, and even to do it prompt- ly ; with him too, in few instants, the word will be. Forward ! The Mutineer deputies vanish, not unpromptly ; the Municipal ones, anxious beyond right for their own individualities, prefer abiding with Bouille. Brave Bouille, though he puts a most firm face on the matter, knows his position full well: how at Nanci, what with re- bellious soldiers, with uncertain National Guards, and so many distributed fusils, there rage and roar some ten thousand fight- ing men ; while with himself is scarcely the third part of that number, in National Guards also uncertain, in mere pacified Regiments, — for the present full of rage, and clamor to march ; but whose rage and clamor may next moment take such a fatal new figure. On the top of one uncertain billow, therewith to calm billows ! Bouille must " abandon himself to Fortune ;" who is said sometimes to favor the brave. At half-past twelve, the Mutineer deputies having vanished, our drums beat ; we march : for Nanci ! Let Nanci bethink itself, then ; for Bouille has thought and determined. And yet how shall Nanci think : not a City but a Bedlam ! Grim Chateau-Vieux is for defence to the death ; forces the Mu- nicipality to order, by tap of drum, all citizens acquainted with artillery to turn out, and assist in managing the cannon. On the other hand, effervescent Regiment du Roi is drawn up in its barracks ; quite disconsolate, hearing the humor Salm is in ; and ejaculates dolefully from its thousand throats : " La lot, la lot, Law, law ! " Mestre-de-Camp blusters, with profane swearing, in mixed terror and furor ; National Guards look this way and that, not knowing what to do. What a Bedlam-City : as many plans as heads ; all ordering, none obeying : quiet none, — except the Dead, who sleep underground, having done their fighting. And, behold, Bouille proves as good as his word: "at half- 330 CARLYLE [1790 past two " scouts report that he is within half a league of the gates ; rattling along, with cannon and array ; breathing nothing but destruction. A new Deputation, Municipals, Mutineers, Officers, goes out to meet him ; with passionate entreaty for yet one other hour. Bouille grants an hour. Then, at the end thereof, no Denoue or Malseigne appearing as promised, he rolls his drums, and again takes the road. Towards four o'clock, the terror-struck Townsmen may see him face to face. His can- nons rattle there, in their carriages ; his vanguard is within thirty paces of the Gate Stanislaus. Onward like a Planet, by appointed times, by law of Nature ! What next ? Lo, flag of truce and chamade, conjuration to halt: Malseigne and Denoue are on the street, coming hither; the soldiers all repentant, ready to submit and march ! Adamantine Bouille's look alters not ; yet the word Halt is given : gladder moment he never saw. Joy of joys ! Malseigne and Denoue do verily issue ; escorted by National Guards ; from streets all frantic, with sale to Austria and so forth ; they salute Bouille, unscathed. Bouille steps aside to speak with them, and with other heads of the Town there ; having already ordered by what Gates and Routes the mutineer Regiments shall file out. Such colloquy with these two General Officers and other principal Townsmen was natural enough ; nevertheless one wishes Bouille had postponed it, and not stepped aside. Such tumultous inflammable masses, tumbling along, making way for each other ; this of keen nitrous oxide, that of sulphurous fire- damp, — were it not well to stand between them, keeping them well separate, till the space be cleared ? Numerous stragglers of Chateau- Vieux and the rest have not marched with their main columns, which are filing out by the appointed Gates, taking station in the open meadows. National Guards are in a state of nearly distracted uncertainty ; the populace, armed and unarmed, roll openly delirious, — betrayed, sold to the Austrians, sold to the Aristocrats. There are loaded cannon, with lit matches, among them, and Bouille's vanguard is halted within thirty paces of the Gate. Command dwells not in that mad inflamma- ble mass ; which smolders and tumbles there, in blind smoky rage ; which will not open the Gate when summoned ; says it will open the cannon's throat sooner! — Cannonade not, O Friends, or be it through my body ! cries heroic young Desilles, young Captain of Roi, clasping the murderous engine in his August 3ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 331 arms, and holding it. Chateau- Vieux Swiss, by main force, with oaths and menaces, wrench off the heroic youth ; who un- daunted, amid still louder oaths, seats himself on the touch-hole. Amid still louder oaths, with ever louder clangor, — and, alas, with the loud crackle of first one, and then of three other muskets ; which explode into his body ; which roll // in the dust, — and do also, in the loud madness of such moment, bring lit cannon-match to ready priming ; and so, with one thunderous belch of grapeshot, blast some fifty of Bouille's vanguard into air! Fatal ! That sputter of the first musket-shot has kindled such a cannon-shot, such a death-blaze ; and all is now red-hot mad- ness, conflagration as of Tophet. With demoniac rage, the Bouille vanguard storms through that Gate Stanislaus ; with fiery sweep, sweeps Mutiny clear away, to death, or into shel- ters and cellars ; from which latter, again. Mutiny continues firing. The ranked Regiments hear it in their meadow ; they rush back again through the nearest Gate; Bouille gallops in, distracted, inaudible ; — and now has begun in Nanci, as in that doomed Hall of the Nibelungen, " a murder grim and great." Miserable : such scene of dismal aimless madness as the anger of Heaven but rarely permits among men ! From cellar or from garret, from open street in front, from successive corners of cross-streets on each hand, Chateau-Vieux and Patriotism keep up the murderous rolling-fire, on murderous not Unpatriotic fires. Your blue National Captain, riddled with balls, one hard- ly knows on whose side fighting, requests to be laid on the colors to die: the patriotic Woman (name not given, deed sur- viving) screams to Chateau-Vieux that it must not fire the other cannon ; and even flings a pail of water on it, since screaming avails not.a Thou shalt fight ; thou shalt not fight ; and with whom shalt thou fight ! Could tumult awaken the old Dead, Burgundian Charles the Bold might stir from under that Rotunda of his : never since he, raging, sank in the ditches, and lost Life and Diamond, was such a noise heard here. Three thousand, as some count, lie mangled, gory: the half of Chateau-Vieux has been shot, without need of Court-Martial. Cavalry, of Mestre-dc-Camp or their foes, can do little. Regi- ment du Roi was persuaded to its barracks ; stands there pal- pitating. Bouille, armed with the terrors of the Law, and fa- a Deux Amis, v. 268. 332 CARLYLE [1790 vored of Fortune, finally triumphs. In two murderous hours he has penetrated to the grand Squares, dauntless, though with loss of forty officers and live hundred men : the shattered remnants of Chateau- Vieux are seeking covert. Regiment du Roi, not effervescent now, alas, no, but liai'i)ig effervesced, will offer to ground its arms ; will '' march in a quarter of an hour." Nay these poor effervesced require " escort " to march with, and get it ; though they are thousands strong, and have thirty ball-car- tridges a man ! The Sun is not yet down, when Peace, which might have come bloodless, has come bloody : the m.utinous Regiments are on march, doleful, on their three Routes ; and from Nanci rises wail of women and men, the voice of weeping and desolation ; the City weeping for its slain who awaken not. These streets are empty but for victorious patrols. Thus has Fortune, favoring the brave, dragged Bouille, as himself says, out of such a frightful peril " by the hair of the head." An intrepid adamantine man, this Bouille : — had he stood in old Broglie's place in those Bastille days, it might have been all different ! He has extinguished mutiny, and immeasur- able civil war. Not for nothing, as we see ; yet at a rate which he and Constitutional Patriotism consider cheap. Nay, as for Bouille, he, urged by subsequent contradiction which arose, de- clares coldly, it was rather against his own private mind, and more by public military rule of duty, that he did extinguish it,^ — immeasurable civil war being now the only chance. Urged, we say, by subsequent contradiction ! Civil war, indeed, is Chaos ; and in all vital Chaos there is new Order shaping itself free : but what a faith this, that of all new Orders out of Chaos and Possibility of Man and his Universe, Louis Sixteenth and Two-Chamber Monarchy were precisely the one that would shape itself ! It is like undertaking to throw deuce-ace, say only five hundred successive times, and any other throw to be fatal — for Bouille. Rather thank Fortune, and Heaven, always, thou intrepid Bouille ; and let contradiction go its way ! Civil war, conflagrating universally over France at this moment, might have led to one thing or to another thing : meanwhile, to quench conflagration, wheresoever one finds it, wheresoever one can ; this, in all times, is the rule for man and General Officer. But at Paris, so agitated and divided, fancy how it went, when the continually vibrating Orderlies vibrated thither at b Bouille, i. 175. September] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 333 hand-gallop, with such questionable news ! High is the gratula- tion ; and also deep the indignation. An august Assembly, by overwhelming majorities, passionately thanks Bouille ; a King's autograph, the voices of all Loyal, all Constitutional men run to the same tenor. A solemn National funeral-service, for the Law-defenders slain at Nanci, is said and sung in the Champ- de-Mars ; Bailly, Lafayette and National Guards, all except the few that protested, assist. With pomp and circumstance, with episcopal Calicoes in tricolor girdles. Altar of Fatherland smok- ing with cassolettes, or incense-kettles ; the vast Champ-de-Mars wholly hung round with black mortcloth, — which mortcloth and expenditure Marat thinks had better have been laid out in bread, in these dear days, and given to the hungry living Patriot. c On the other hand, living Patriotism, and Saint-Antoine, which we have seen noisily closing its shops and suchlike, assembles now " to the number of forty thousand ; " and, with loud cries, under the very windows of the thanking National Assembly, demands revenge for murdered Brothers, judgment on Bouille, and in- stant dismissal of War-Minister Latour du Pin. At sound and sight of which things, if not War-Minister Latour, yet " Adored Minister " Necker sees good, on the 3d of September 1790, to withdraw softly, almost privily, — with an eye to the " recovery of his health." Home to native Switzer- land ; not as he last came ; lucky to reach it alive ! Fifteen months ago, we saw him coming, with escort of horse, with sound of clarion and trumpet ; and now, at Arcis-sur-Aube, while he departs, unescorted, soundless, the Populace and Mu- nicipals stop him as a fugitive, are not unlike massacring him as a traitor ; the National Assembly, consulted on the matter, gives him free egress as a nullity. Such an unstable " drift- mould of Accident " is the substance of this lower world, for them that dwell in houses of clay ; so, especially in hot regions and times, do the proudest palaces we build of it take wings, and become Sahara sand-palaces, spinning many-pillared in the whirlwind, and bury us under their sand ! — In spite of the forty thousand, the National Assembly persists in its thanks ; and Royalist Latour du Pin continues Minister. The forty thousand assemble next day, as loud as ever; roll towards Latour's Hotel; find cannon on the porch-steps with c Ami du Peuple (in Hist. Pari, ubi supra). 334 CARLYLE [1790 flambeau lit; and have to retire elsewhither, and digest their spleen, or reabsorb it into the blood. Over in Lorraine meanwhile, they of the distributed fusils, ringleaders of Mestre-de-Camp, of Roi, have got marked out for judgment ; — yet shall never get judged. Briefer is the doom of Chateau-Vieux. Chateau-Vieux is, by Swiss law, given up for instant trial in Court-Martial of its own officers. Which Court- jMartial, with all brevity (in not many hours), has hanged some Twenty-three, on conspicuous gibbets; marched some Three- score in chains to the Galleys ; and so, to appearance, finished the matter off. Hanged men do cease for ever from this Earth ; but out of chains and the Galleys there may be resuscitation in triumph. Resuscitation for the chained Hero ; and even for the chained Scoundrel or Semi-scoundrel! Scottish John Knox, such World-Hero as we know, sat once nevertheless pulling grim-taciturn at the oar of French Galley, " in the Water of Lore; " and even flung their Virgin-Mary over, instead of kiss- ing her, — as a " pented bredd," or timber Virgin, who could naturally swim.t^ So, ye of Chateau-Vieux, tug patiently, not without hope ! But indeed at Nanci generally. Aristocracy rides triumphant, rough. Bouille is gone again, the second day; an Aristocrat Municipality, with free course, is as cruel as it had before been cowardly. The Daughter Society, as the mother of the whole mischief, lies ignominiously suppressed; the Prisons can hold no more ; bereaved down-beaten Patriotism murmurs, not loud but deep. Here and in the neighboring Towns, " flattened balls " picked from the streets of Nanci are worn at buttonholes : balls flattened in carrying death to Patriotism ; men wear them there, in perpetual memento of revenge. Mutineer deserters roam the woods; have to demand charity at the musket's end. All is dissolution, mutual rancor, gloom and despair: — till National Assembly Commissioners arrive, with a steady gentle flame of Constitutionalism in their hearts ; who gently lift up the down-trodden, gently pull down the too uplifted ; reinstate the Daughter Society, recall the mutineer deserter ; gradually levelling, strive in all wise ways to smooth and soothe. With such gradual mild levelling on the one side ; as with solemn funeral-service, cassolettes, Courts-Martial, National thanks, on the other, — all that Officiality can do is done. The buttonhole d Knox's History of the Reformation, b. i. September] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 335 will drop its flat ball ; the black ashes, so far as may be, get green again. This is the " Affair of Nanci ; " by some called the " Massacre of Nanci ; " — properly speaking, the unsightly wrong-side of that thrice-glorious Feast of Pikes, the right-side of which formed a spectacle for the very gods. Right-side and wrong lie always so near : the one was in July, in August the other ! The- atres, the theatres over in London, are bright with their paste- board simulacrum of that " Federation of the French people," brought out as Drama: this of Nanci, we may say, though not played in any pasteboard Theatre, did for many months enact itself, and even walk spectrally, in all French heads. For the news of it fly pealing through all France : awakening, in town and village, in clubroom, messroom, to the utmost borders, some mimic reflex or imaginative repetition of the business ; always with the angry questionable assertion : It was right ; It was wrong. Whereby come controversies, duels ; embitterment, vain jargon; the hastening forward, the augmenting and intensifying of whatever new explosions lie in store for us. Meanwhile, at this cost or at that, the mutiny, as we say, is stilled. The French army has neither burst-up in universal simultaneous delirium ; nor been at once disbanded, put an end to, and made new again. It must die in the chronic manner, through years, by inches ; with partial revolts, as of Brest Sailors or the like, which dare not spread ; with men unhappy, insub- ordinate ; officers unhappier, in Royalist mustachioes, taking horse, singly or in bodies, across the Rhine :e sick dissatisfaction, sick disgust on both sides ; the Army moribund, fit for no duty : — till it do, in that unexpected manner, phoenix-like, with long throes, get both dead and new-born ; then start forth strong, nay stronger and even strongest. Thus much was the brave Bouille hitherto fated to do. Wherewith let him again fade into dimness; and, at Metz or the rural Cantonments, assiduously drilling, mysteriously diplo- matizing, in scheme within scheme, hover as formerly a faint shadow, the hope of Royalty. e See Dampmartin, i. 349, &c. &c BOOK THIRD THE TUILERIES. Chapter I. — Epimenides. HOW true, that there is nothing dead in this Universe; that what we call dead is only changed, its forces work- ing in inverse order! "The leaf that lies rotting in moist winds," says one, " has still force ; else how could it rot?" Our whole Universe is but an infinite Complex of Forces ; thousandfold, from Gravitation up to Thought and Will ; man's Freedom environed with Necessity oi" Nature: in all which nothing at any moment slumbers, but all is forever awake and busy. The thing that lies isolated inactive thou shalt nowhere discover; seek ev It is a state of nervous excitabihty such as few nations know. Chapter V. — The Day of Poniards. Or, again, what means this visible reparation of the Castle of Vincennes? Other Jails being all crowded with prisoners, new space is wanted here : that is the Municipal account. For in such changing of Judicatures, Parlements being abolished, and New Courts but just set up, prisoners have accumulated. Not to say that in these times of discord and club-law, offences and committals are, at any rate, more numerous. Which Munic- ipal account, does it not sufficiently explain the phenomenon? Surely, to repair the Castle of Vincennes was of all enterprises that an enlightened Municipality could undertake the most innocent. Not so, however, does neighboring Saint-Antoine look on it : Saint-Antoine, to whom these peaked turrets and grim donjons, ail-too near her own dark dwelling, are of them- selves an offence. Was not Vincennes a kind of minor Bas- tille? Great Diderot and Philosophes have lain in durance here ; great Mirabeau, in disastrous eclipse, for forty-two months. And now when the old Bastille has become a dancing- ground (had any one the mirth to dance), and its stones are getting built into the Pont Louis-Seize, does this minor, com- parative insignificance of a Bastille flank itself with fresh- hewn mullions, spread out tyrannous wings ; menacing Pa- triotism ? New space for prisoners : and what prisoners ? A D'Orleans, with the chief Patriots on the tip of the Left? It is said, there runs " a subterranean passage " all the way from the Tuileries hither. Who knows? Paris, mined with quarries and catacombs, does hang wondrous over the abyss; Paris was once to be blown up, — though the powder, when we went to look, had got withdrawn. A Tuileries, sold to Austria and Coblentz, should have no subterranean passage. Out of which might not Coblentz or Austria issue, some morn- ing; and, with cannon of long range, " foudroyer," bethunder a patriotic Saint-Antoine into smoulder and ruin ! k Montgaillard, ii. 282; Deux Amis, vi. c. 1. February 28th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 359 So meditates the benighted soul of Saint-Antoine, as it sees the aproned workmen, in early spring, busy on these towers. An official-speaking Municipality, a Sieur Motier with his legions of mouchards, deserve no trust at all. Were Patriot Santerre, indeed, Commander ! But the sonorous Brewer commands only our own Battalion: of such secrets he can explain nothing, knows nothing, perhaps suspects much. And so the work goes on ; and afflicted benighted Saint-Antoine hears rattle of hammers, sees stones suspended in air./ Saint-Antoine prostrated the first great Bastille: will it falter over this comparative insignificance of a Bastille? Friends, what if we took pikes, firelocks, sledge-hammers ; and helped ourselves ! — Speedier is no remedy ; nor so cer- tain. On the 28th day of February, Saint-Antoine turns out, as it has now often done; and, apparently with little super- fluous tumult, moves eastward to the eye-sorrow of Vin- cennes. With grave voice of authority, no need of bullying and shouting, Saint-Antoine signifies to parties concerned there, that its purpose is. To have this suspicious Strong- hold razed level with the general soil of the country. Remon- strance may be proffered, with zeal ; but it avails not. The outer gate goes up, drawbridges tumble ; iron window-stan- chions, smitten out with sledge-hammers, become iron-crow- bars: it rains a rain of furniture, stone-masses, slates: with chaotic clatter and rattle, Demolition clatters down. And now hasty expresses rush through the agitated streets, to warn Lafayette, and the Municipal and Departmental Authorities ; Rumor warns a National Assembly, a Royal Tuileries, and all men who care to hear it : That Saint-Antoine is up ; that Vincennes, and probably the last remaining Institution of the Country, is coming down.w Quick, then, Let Lafayette roll his drums and fly eastward ; for to all Constitutional Patriots this is again bad news. And you, ye Friends of Royalty, snatch your poniards of improved structure, made to order; your sword-canes, secret arms, and tickets of entry ; quick, by backstairs passages, rally round the Son of Sixty Kings. An effervescence probably got up by D'Orleans and Company, for the overthrow of Throne and Altar: it is said her Majesty shall be put in prison, put / Montgaillard, ii. 285. m Deux Amis, vi. 11-15; Newspapers (in Hist. Pari. ix. 111-17). 360 CARLYLE [1791 out of the way; what then will his Majesty be? Clay for the Sansculottic Potter ! Or were it impossible to fly this day ; a brave Noblesse suddenly all rallying? Peril threatens, hope invites: Dukes de Villequier, de Duras, Gentlemen of the Chamber give Tickets and admittance; a brave Noblesse is suddenly all rallying. Now were the time to " fall sword in hand on those gentry there," could it be done with effect. The Hero of two Worlds is on his white charger: blue Nationals, horse and foot, hurrying eastward; Santerre, with the Saint-Antoine Battalion, is already there, — apparently in- disposed to act. Heavy-laden Hero of two Worlds, what tasks are these! The jeerings, provocative gambollings of that Patriot Suburb, which is all out on the streets now, are hard to endure; unwashed Patriots jeering in sulky sport; one unwashed Patriot " seizing the General by the boot," to unhorse him. Santerre, ordered to fire, makes answer ob- liquely, " These are the men that took the Bastille ;" and not a trigger stirs. Neither dare the Vincennes Magistracy give warrant of arrestment, or the smallest countenance : wherefore the General '* will take it on himself," to arrest. By prompti- tude, by cheerful adroitness, patience and brisk valor without limits, the riot may be again bloodlessly appeased. Meanwhile the rest of Paris, with more or less unconcern, may mind the rest of its business: for what is this but an effervescence, of which there are now so many? The Na- tional Assembly, in one of its stormiest moods, is debating a Law against Emigration ; Mirabeau declaring aloud, " I swear beforehand that I will not obey it." Mirabeau is often at the Tribune this day ; with endless impediments from without ; with the old unabated energy from within. What can mur- murs and clamors, from Left or from Right, do to this man ; like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved ? With clear thought ; with strong bass voice, though at first low, uncertain, he claims audience, sways the storm of men: anon the sound of him waxes, softens : he rises into far-sounding melody of strength, triumphant, which subdues all hearts ; his rude seamed face, desolate, fire-scathed, becomes fire-lit, and radiates : once again men feel, in these beggarly ages, what is the potency and omnipotency of man's word on the souls of men. " I will triumph, or be torn in fragments," he was once heard to say. " Silence," he cries now, in strong word of command, in im- February 28th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 361 perial consciousness of strength, " Silence, the thirty voices, Silence aux trente voix!" — and Robespierre and the Thirty Voices die into mutterings; and the Law is once more as Mirabeau would have it. How different, at the same instant, is General Lafayette's street-eloquence ; wrangling with sonorous Brewers, with an ungrammatical Saint- Antoine ! Most different, again, from both is the Cafe-de-Valois eloquence, and suppressed fan- faronade, of this multitude of men with Tickets of Entry ; who are now inundating the Corridors of the Tuileries. Such things can go on simultaneously in one City, How much more in one Country ; in one Planet with its discrepancies, every Day a mere crackling infinitude of discrepancies, — which nevertheless do yield some coherent net-product, though an infinitesimally small one ! But be this as it may, Lafayette has saved Vincennes ; and is marching homeward with some dozen of arrested demoli- tionists. Royalty is not yet saved ; — nor indeed specially en- dangered. But to the King's Constitutional Guards, to these old Gardes Frangaises, or Centre Grenadiers, as it chanced to be, this affluence of men with Tickets of Entry is becoming more and more unintelligible. Is his Majesty verily for Metz, then ; to be carried off by these men, on the spur of the in- stant? That revolt of Saint- Antoine got up by traitor Royal- ists for a stalking-horse? Keep a sharp outlook, ye Centre Grenadiers on duty here : good never came from the " men in black." Nay they have cloaks, rcdingotes; some of them leather-breeches, boots, — as if for instant riding! Or what is this that sticks visible from the lapel of a Chevalier de Court ?o Too like the handle of some cutting or stabbing instrument ! He glides and goes ; and still the dudgeon sticks from his left lapel. " Hold, Monsieur! " — a Centre Grenadier clutches him; clutches the protrusive dudgeon, whisks it out in the face of the world : by Heaven, a very dagger ; hunting-knife or what- soever you will call it; fit to drink the life of Patriotism! So fared it with Chevalier de Court, early in the day; not without noise ; not without commentaries. And now this con- tinually increasing multitude at nightfall ? Have they daggers too? Alas, with them too, after angry parlcyings. there has begun a groping and a rummaging; all men in black, spite a Wcbcr, ii. 286. 362 CARLYLE [1791 of their Tickets of Entry, are clutched by the collar, and groped. Scandalous to think of: for always, as the dirk, sword-cane, pistol, or were it but tailor's bodkin, is found on him, and with loud scorn drawn forth from him, he, the hap- less man in black, is flung ail-too rapidly down stairs. Flung ; and ignominiously descends, head foremost; accelerated by ignominious shovings from sentry after sentry; nay, as it is written, by smitings, twitchings, — spurnings a posteriori, not to be named. In this accelerated way emerges, uncertain which end uppermost, man after man in black, through all issues, into the Tuileries Garden ; emerges, alas, into the arms of an indignant multitude, now gathered and gathering there, in the hour of dusk, to see what is toward, and whether the Heredi- tary Representative is carried off or not. Hapless men in black ; at last convicted of poniards made to order ; convicted " Chevaliers of the Poniard " ! Within is as the burning ship ; without is as the deep sea. Within is no help; his Majesty, looking forth, one moment, from his interior sanctuaries, coldly bids all visitors " give up their weapons ;" and shuts the door again. The weapons given up form a heap ; the convicted Chevaliers of the Poniard keep descending pellmell, with impetuous velocity ; and at the bottom of all stair-cases the mixed multitude receives them, hustles, buffets, chases and disperses thcm.^ Such sight meets Lafayette, in the dusk of the evening, as he returns, successful with difficulty at Vincennes : Sansculotte Scylla hardly weathered, here is Aristocrat Charybdis gurgling under his lee ! The patient Hero of two Worlds almost loses temper. He accelerates, does not retard, the flying Chevaliers ; delivers, indeed, this or the other hunted Loyalist of quality, but rates him in bitter words, such as the hour suggested ; such as no saloon could pardon. Hero ill-bested ; hanging, so to speak, in mid-air ; hateful to Rich divinities above ; hateful to indigent mortals below ! Duke de Villequier, Gentleman of the Chamber, gets such contumelious rating, in presence of all people there, that he may see good first to exculpate him- self in the Newspapers ; then, that not prospering, to retire over the Frontiers, and begin plotting at Brussels. <^ His Apart- ment will stand vacant ; usefuller, as we may find, than when it stood occupied. b Hist. Pari. ix. 139-48. c Montgaillard, ii. 286. February 28th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 363 So fly the Chevaliers of the Poniard ; hunted of Patriotic men, shamefully in the thickening dusk. A dim miserable business ; born of darkness ; dying away there in the thicken- ing dusk and dimness. In the midst of which, however, let the reader discern clearly one figure running for its life : Crispin-Catiline d'Espremenil, — for the last time, or the last but one. Is it not yet three years since these same Centre Grenadiers, Gardes Fran^aises then, marched him towards the Calypso Isles, in the gray of the May morning; and he and they have got thus far. Buffeted, beaten down, delivered by popular Petion, he might well answer bitterly : " And I too, Monsieur, have been carried on the People's shoulders. "^ A fact which popular Petion, if he like, can meditate. But happily, one w^ay and another, the speedy night covers up this ignominious Day of Poniards ; and the Chevaliers escape, though maltreated, with torn coat-skirts and heavy hearts, to their respective dwelling-houses. Riot twofold is quelled ; and little blood shed, if it be not insignificant blood from the nose : Vincennes stands undemolished, reparable ; and the Hereditary Representative has not been stolen, nor the Queen smuggled into Prison. A day long remembered : commented on with loud hahas and deep grumblings ; with bitter scornfulness of triumph, bitter rancor of defeat. Royal- ism, as usual, imputes it to D'Orleans and the Anarchists intent on insulting Majesty: Patriotism, as usual, to Royalists, and even Constitutionalists, intent on stealing Majesty to Metz : we, also as usual, to Preternatural Suspicion, and Phoebus Apollo having made himself like the Night. Thus, however, has the reader seen, in an unexpected arena, on, this last day of February 1791, the Three long-con- tending elements of French Society dashed forth into singular comico-tragical collision ; acting and reacting openly to the eye. Constitutionalism, at once quelling Sansculottic riot at Vincennes, and Royalist treachery in the Tuileries, is great, this day, and prevails. As for poor Royalism, tossed to and fro in that manner, its daggers all left in a heap, what can one think of it? Every dog, the Adage says, has its day: has it ; has had it ; or will have it. For the present, the day is Lafayette's and the Constitution's. Nevertheless Hunger and Jacobinism, fast growing fanatical, still work; their day, d See Mercier, ii. 40, 202. 364 CARLYLE [1791 were they once fanatical, will come. Hitherto, in all tempests, Lafayette, like some divine Sea-ruler, raises his serene head: the upper ^olus blasts fly back to their caves, like foolish unbidden winds : the under sea-billows they had vexed into froth allay themselves. But if, as we often write, the sub- marine Titanic Fire-powers came into play, the Ocean-bed from beneath being hurst? If they hurled Poseidon Lafayette and his Constitution out of Space; and, in the Titanic melly, sea were mixed with sky? Chapter VI. — Mirabeau. The spirit of France waxes ever more acrid, fever-sick : to- wards the final outburst of dissolution and delirium. Suspicion rules all minds : contending parties cannot now commingle ; stand separated sheer asunder, eying one another, in most aguish mood, of cold terror or hot rage, Counter-Revolution, Days of Poniards, Castries Duels ; Flight of Mesdames, of Monsieur and Royalty ! Journalism shrills ever louder its cry of alarm. The sleepless Dionysius-Ear of the Forty-eight Sections, how feverishly quick has it grown ; convulsing with strange pangs the whole sick Body, as in such sleeplessness and sickness the ear will do ! Since Royalists get Poniards made to order, and a Sieur Motier is no better than he should be, shall not Patriotism too, even of the indigent sort, have Pikes, secondhand Fire- locks, in readiness for the worst ? The anvils ring, during this March month, with hammering of Pikes. A Constitutional Municipality promulgated its Placard, that no citizen except the " active " or cash-citizen was entitled to have arms ; but there rose, instantly responsive, such a tempest of astonish- ment from Club and Section, that the Constitutional Placard, almost next morning, had to cover itself up, and die away into inanity, in a second improved edition.a So the ham- mering continues ; as all that it betokens does. Mark, again, how the extreme tip of the Left is moimting in favor, if not in its own National Hall, yet with the Nation, especially with Paris. For in such universal panic of doubt, the opinion that is sure of itself, as the meagrest opinion may oOrdonnance du 17 Mars 1791 {Hist. Pari. ix. 257). March] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 365 the soonest be, is the one to which all men will rally. Great is Belief, were it never so meagre ; and leads captive the doubting heart. Incorruptible Robespierre has been elected Public Accuser in our new Courts of Judicature ; virtuous Petion, it is thought, may rise to be Mayor. Cordelier Dan- ton, called also by triumphant majorities, sits at the Depart- mental Council-table ; colleague there of Mirabeau. Of incor- ruptible Robespierre it was long ago predicted that he might go far, mean meagre mortal though he was ; for Doubt dwelt not in him. Under which circumstances ought not Royalty likewise to cease doubting, and begin deciding and acting? Royalty has always that sure trump-card in its hand: Flight out of Paris. Which sure trump-card Royalty, as we see, keeps ever and anon clutching at, grasping ; and swashes it forth tentatively ; yet never tables it, still puts it back again. Play it, O Royalty ! If there be a chance left, this seems it, and verily the last chance ; and now every hour is rendering this a doubtfuler. Alas, one would so fain both fly and not fly ; play one's card and have it to play. Royalty, in all human likelihood, will not play its trump-card till the honors, one after one, be mainly lost ; and such trumping of it prove to be the sudden finish of the game! Here accordingly a question always arises ; of the prophetic sort ; which cannot now be answered. Suppose Mirabeau, with whom Royalty takes deep counsel, as with a Prime Minister that cannot yet legally avow himself as such, had got his ar- rangements completed? Arrangements he has; far-stretching plans that dawn fitfully on us, by fragments, in the confused darkness. Thirty Departments ready to sign loyal Addresses, of prescribed tenor: King carried out of Paris, but only to Compiegne and Rouen, hardly to Metz, since, once for all, no Emigrant rabble shall take the lead in it : National Assembly consenting, by dint of loyal Addresses, by management, by force of Bouille, to hear reason, and follow thither \b Was it so, on these terms, that Jacobinism and Mirabeau were then to grapple, in their Hercules-and-Typhon duel ; Death inevi- table for the one or the other? The duel itself is determined on, and sure: but on what terms: much more, with what issue, we in vain guess. It is vague darkness all : unknown b Sec Pits Adoptif, vii. 1. 6; Dumont, c. 11, 12, 14. 366 CARLYLE [1791 what is to be; unknown even what has already been. The giant Mirabeau walks in darkness, as we said; companionless, on wild ways : what his thoughts during these months were, no record of Biographer, nor vague Fils Adoptif, will now ever disclose. To us, endeavoring to cast his horoscope, it of course re- mains doubly vague. There is one Herculean Man ; in inter- necine duel with him, there is Monster after Monster. Emigrant Noblesse return, sword on thigh, vaunting of their Loyalty never sullied ; descending from the air, like Harpy-swarms with ferocity, with obscene greed. Earthward there is the Typhon of Anarchy, Political, Religious ; sprawling hundred- headed, say with Twenty-five million heads; wide as the area of France ; fierce as Frenzy ; strong in very Hunger. With these shall the Serpent-queller do battle continually, and ex- pect no rest. As for the King, he as usual will go wavering chameleon- like ; changing color and purpose with the color of his en- vironment ; — good for no Kingly use. On one royal person, on the Queen only, can Mirabeau perhaps place dependence. It is possible, the greatness of this man, not unskilled too in blandishments, courtiership, and graceful adroitness, might, with most legitimate sorcery, fascinate the volatile Queen, and fix her to him. She has courage for all noble daring; an eye and a heart : the soul of Theresa's Daughter. " Faut-il done, Is it fated then," she passionately writes to her Brother, " that I with the blood I am come of, with the sentiments I have, must live and die among such mortals ? "c Alas, poor Princess, Yes. " She is the only man" as Mirabeau observes, " whom his Majesty has about him." Of one other man Mirabeau is still surer : of himself. There lie his resources ; sufficient or insufficient. Dim and great to the eye of Prophecy looks that future. A perpetual life-and-death battle ; confusion from above and from below ; — mere confused darkness for us ; with here and there some streak of faint lurid light. We see a King perhaps laid aside ; not tonsured, — tonsuring is out of fashion now, — but say, sent away anywhither, with handsome annual allow- ance and stock of smith-tools. We see a Queen and Dauphin, Regent and Minor; a Queen " mounted on horseback," in c Fils Adoptif, ubi supra. March] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 367 the din of battles, with Moriamur pro rege nostra ! " Such a day," Mirabeau writes, " may come." Din of battles, wars more than civil, confusion from above and from below : in such environment the eye of Prophecy sees Comte de Mirabeau, like some Cardinal de Retz, storm- fully maintain himself ; with head all-devising, heart all-daring, if not victorious, yet unvanquished, while life is left him. The specialties and issues of it, no eye of Prophecy can guess at: it is clouds, we repeat, and tempestuous night ; and in the middle of it, now visible, far-darting, now laboring in eclipse, is Mirabeau indomitably struggling to be Cloud-Compeller ! — One can say that, had Mirabeau lived, the History of France and of the World had been different. Further that the man would have needed, as few men ever did, the whole compass of that same " Art of Daring, Art d'Oser," which he so prized ; and likewise that he, above all men then living, would have practised and manifested it. Finally, that some substan- tiality, and no empty simulacrum of a formula, would have been the result realized by him : a result you could have loved, a result you could have hated ; by no likelihood, a result you could only have rejected with closed lips, and swept into quick forgetfulness forever. Had Mirabeau lived one other yearl Chapter VII. — Death of Mirabeau. ~ But Mirabeau could not live another year, any more than he could live another thousand years. Men's years are num- bered, and the tale of Mirabeau's was now complete. Im- portant or unimportant ; to be mentioned in World-History for some centuries, or not to be mentioned there beyond a day or two, — it matters not to peremptory Fate. From amid the press of ruddy busy Life, the Pale Messenger beckons silently: wide-spreading interests, projects, salvation of French Monarchies, what thing soever man has on hand, he must suddenly quit it all, and go. Wert thou saving French Mon- archies; wert thou blacking shoes on the Pont Neuf! The ^ most important of men cannot stay ; did the World's His- tory depend on an hour, that hour is not to be given. Whereby, ^ indeed, it comes that these same zvould-Jia-c'C-beens are mostly a vanity; and the World's History could never in the least 368 CARLYLE [1791 be what it would, or might, or should, by any manner of potentiality, but simply and altogether what it is. The fierce wear and tear of such an existence has w^asted out the giant oaken strength of Mirabeau, A fret and fever that keeps heart and brain on fire: excess of effort, of excite- ment ; excess of all kinds : labor incessant, almost beyond credibility ! " If I had not lived with him," says Dumont, " I never should have known what a man can make of one . day; what things may be placed within the interval of twelve hours. A day for this man was more than a week or a month is for others: the mass of things he guided on together was prodigious ; from the scheming to the executing not a mo- ment lost." — " Monsieur le Comte," said his Secretary to him once, "what you require is impossible." — "Impossible!" — answered he, starting from his chair, "Ne me ditcs jamais ce bete de mot. Never name to me that blockhead of a word."o And then the social repasts ; the dinner which he gives as Commandant of National Guards, " which cost five hun- dred pounds ;" alas, and " the Syrens of the Opera ;" and all the ginger that is hot in the mouth : — down what a course is this man hurled ! Cannot Mirabeau stop ; cannot he fly, and save himself alive? No! there is a Nessus-Shirt on this Hercules; he must storm and burn there, wdthout rest, till he be consumed. Human strength, never so Herculean, has its measure. Herald shadows flit pale across the fire-brain of Mirabeau ; heralds of the pale repose. While he tosses and storms, straining every nerve, in that sea of ambition and confusion, there comes, sombre and still, a monition that for him the issue of it will be swift death. In January last, you might see him as President of the Assembly ; " his neck wrapt in linen cloths, at the evening session:" there was sick heat of the blood, alternate darken- ing and flashing in the eyesight ; he had to apply leeches, f after the morning labor, and preside bandaged. " At parting \ he embraced me," says Dumont, " with an emotion I had ' never seen in him : * I am dying, my friend ; dying as by slow fire ; we shall perhaps not meet again. When I am gone, they will know what the value of me was. The miseries I have held back will burst from all sides on France.' "& Sick- ness gives louder warning; but cannot be listened to. On a Dumont, p. 311. b Dumont, p. 267. April 2d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 369 the 27th day of March, proceeding towards the Assembly, he had to seek rest and help in Friend de Lamarck's, by the road; and lay there, for an hour, half- fainted, stretched on a sofa. To the Assembly nevertheless he went, as if in spite of Destiny itself; spoke, loud and eager, five several times; then quitted the Tribune — forever. He steps out, utterly ex- hausted, into the Tuileries Gardens ; many people press round him, as usual, with applications, memorials; he says to the Friend who was with him : " Take me out of this ! " And so, on the last day of March 1791, endless anxious multitudes beset the Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin ; incessantly inquiring: within doors there, in that House numbered, in our time, 42, the overw-earied giant has fallen down, to die.c Crowds of all parties and kinds ; of all ranks from the King to the meanest man ! The King sends publicly twice a-day to inquire ; privately besides : from the world at large there is no end of inquiring. " A written bulletin is handed out every three hours," is copied and circulated ; in the end, it is printed. The People spontaneously keep silence; no car- riage shall enter with its noise: there is crowding pressure; but the Sister of Mirabeau is reverently recognized, and has free way made for her. The People stand mute, heart-stricken ; to all it seems as if a great calamity were nigh : as if the last man of France, who could have swayed these coming troubles, lay there at hand-grips with the unearthly Power. The silence of a whole People, the wakeful toil of Cabanis, Friend and Physician, skills not : on Saturday the second day of April, Mirabeau feels that the last of the Days has risen for him ; that on this day he has to depart and be no more. His death is Titanic, as his life has been ! Lit up, for the -^ last time, in the glare of coming dissolution, the mind of the man is all glowing and burning; utters itself in sayings, such as men long remember. He longs to live, yet acquiesces in death, argues not with the inexorable. His speech is wild and wondrous: unearthly Phantasms dancing now their torch-dance round his soul : the soul itself looking out, fire- radiant, motionless, girt together for that great hour! At times comes a beam of light from him on the world he is quitting. " I carry in my heart the death-dirge of the French Monarchy ; the dead remains of it will now be the spoil of c Fils Adoptif, viii. 420-79. Vol. I. — 24 370 CARLYLE [1791 the factious." Or again, when he heard the cannon fire, what is characteristic too : " Have we the Achilles' Funeral already ?" So likewise, while some friend is supporting him : " Yes, sup- port that head ; would I could bequeath it thee ! " For the man dies as he has lived ; self-conscious, conscious of a world looking on. He gazes forth on the young Spring, which for him will never be Summer. The Sun has risen ; he says, " Si ce 11' est pas la Dieu, c'est du moins son cousin germain."d — Death has mastered the outworks ; power of speech is gone ; the citadel of the heart still holding out: the moribund giant, passionately, by sign, demands paper and pen ; writes his passionate demand for opium, to end these agonies. The sorrowful Doctor shakes his head : Dormir, " To sleep," writes the other passionately pointing at it ! So dies a gigantic Heathen and Titan ; stumbling blindly, undismayed, down to his rest. At half-past eight in the morning. Doctor Petit, standing at the foot of the bed, says, " // ne souffre plus." His suffering and his working are now ended. Even so, ye silent Patriot multitudes, all ye men of France ; this man is rapt away from you. He has fallen suddenly, without bending till he broke ; as a tower falls, smitten by sudden lightning. His word ye shall hear no more, his guidance follow no more. — The multitudes depart, heartstruck ; spread the sad tidings. How touching is the loyalty of men to their Sovereign Man! All theatres, public amusements close ; no joyful meeting can be held in these nights, joy is not for them: the People break in upon pri- vate dancing-parties, and sullenly command that they cease. Of such dancing-parties apparently but two came to light ; and these also have gone out. The gloom is universal ; never in this City was such sorrow for one death ; never since that old night when Louis XH. departed, " and the Cricurs des Corps went sounding their bells, and crying along the streets : Le bon rot Louis, pere du penple, est mort, The good King Louis, Father of the People, is dead ! "e King Mirabeau is now the lost King; and one may say with little exaggeration, all the People mourns for him. For three days there is low wide moan ; weeping in the d Fits Adoptif, viii. 450; Journal de la maladie et de la mort de Mira- beau, par P. J. G. Cahanis (Paris, 1803). e Renault, Abregc Chronologique, p. 429. April 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 371 National Assembly itself. The streets are all mournful ; orators mounted on the homes, with large silent audience, preaching the funeral sermon of the dead. Let no coachman whip fast, distractively with his rolling wheels, or almost at all, through these groups ! His traces may be cut ; himself and his fare, as incurable Aristocrats, hurled sulkily into the kennels. The bourne-stone orators speak as it is given them ; the Sansculottic People, with its rude soul, listens eager, — as men will to any Sermon, or Scrmo, when it is a spoken Word meaning a Thing, and not a Babblement meaning No-thing. In the" Restaurateur's of the Palais-Royal, the waiter remarks, " Fine weather, Monsieur:" — "Yes, my friend," answers the ancient Man of Letters, "very fine; but Mirabeau is dead." Hoarse - rhythmic threnodies come also from the throats of ballad- singers ; are sold on gray-white paper at a sou each./" But of Portraits, engraved, painted, hewn and written ; of Eulogies, Reminiscences, Biographies, nay Vaudevilles, Dramas and Melodramas, in all Provinces of France, there will, through these coming months, be the due immeasurable crop ; thick as the leaves of Spring. Nor, that a tincture of burlesque might be in it, is Gobel's Episcopal Mandcmcnt wanting; goose Gobel, who has just been made Constitutional Bishop of Paris. A Mandement wherein ^a ira alternates strangely with Nomine Domini, and you are, with a grave countenance, invited to " rejoice at possessing in the midst of you a body of Prelates created by Mirabeau, zealous followers of his doc- trine, faithful imitators of his virtues. "g So speaks, and cackles manifold, the Sorrow of France ; wailing articulately, inarticulately, as it can, that a Sovereign Man is snatched away. In the National Assembly, when difficult questions are astir, all eyes will " turn mechanically to the place where Mirabeau sat," — and Mirabeau is absent now. On the third evening of the lamentation, the fourth of April, there is solemn Public Funeral ; such as deceased mortal seldom had. Procession of a league in length ; of mourners reckoned loosely at a hundred thousand. All roofs are thronged with on-lookers, all windows, lamp-irons, branches of trees. *' Sadness is painted on every countenance ; many f Fils Adoptif, viii. 1. 10; Newspapers and Excerpts (in Hist. Pari ix. 366-402). g Hist. Pari. ix. 405. 372 CARLYLE I1791 persons weep." There is double hedge of National Guards; there is National Assembly in a body; Jacobin Society, and Societies; King's Ministers, Municipals, and all Notabilities, Patriot or Aristocrat. Bouille is noticeable there, " with his hat on ;" say, hat drawn over his brow, hiding many thoughts ! Slow-wending, in religious silence, the Procession of a league in length, under the level sun-rays, for it is five o'clock, moves and marches : with its sable plumes ; itself in a religious silence ; but, by fits with the muffled roll of drums, by fits with some long-drawn wail of music, and strange new clangor of trom- bones, and metallic dirge-voice ; amid the infinite hum of men. In the Church of Saint-Eustache, there is funeral oration by Cerutti ; and discharge of fire-arms, which " brings down pieces of the plaster." Thence, forward again to the Church of Sainte-Genevieve ; which has been consecrated, by supreme decree, on the spur of this time, into a Pantheon for the Great Men of the Fatherland, Aitx Grands Honunes la Patric reconnaissante. Hardly at midnight is the business done ; and Mirabeau left in his dark dwelling: first tenant of that Father- land's Pantheon. Tenant, alas, who inhabits but at will, and shall be cast out. For, in these days of convulsion and disjection, not even the dust of the dead is permitted to rest. Voltaire's bones are, by and by, to be carried from their stolen grave in the Abbey of Scellieres, to an eager stealing grave, in Paris his birth-city : all mortals processioning and perorating there ; cars drawn by eight white horses, goadsters in classical cos- tume, with fillets and wheat-ears enough ; — though the weather is of the wettest./^ Evangelist Jean Jacques too, as is most proper, must be dug up from Ermenonville, and processioned, with pomp, with sensibility, to the Pantheon of the Father- land. i He and others: while again Mirabeau, we say, is cast forth from it, happily incapable of being replaced; and rests now, irrecognizable, reburied hastily at dead of night " in the central part of the Churchyard Sainte-Catherine, in the Suburb Saint-Marceau," to be disturbed no farther. So blazes out, far-seen, a Man's Life, and becomes ashes and a caput mortumn, in this World-Pyre, which we name French Revolution: not the first that consumed itself there; h Moniteur, du 13 Juillet 1791. iMoniteur, du 18 Septembre 1794. See also du 30 Aout, &c. 1791. April 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 373 nor, by thousands and many millions, the last ! A man who " had swallowed all formulas ; " who, in these strange times and circumstances, felt called to live Titanically, and also to die so. . As he, for his part, had swallowed all formulas, what Formula is there, never so comprehensive, that will express truly the plus and the tniniis of him, give us the accurate net-result of him? There is hitherto none such. Moralities not a few must shriek condemnatory over this Mirabeau ; the Morality by which he could be judged has not yet got uttered in the speech of men. We will say this of him again : That he is a Reality and no Simulacrum ; a living Son of Nature our general Mother ; not a hollow Artifice, and mechanism of Conventionalities, son of nothing, brother to nothing. In which little word, let the earnest man, walking sorrowful in a world mostly of " Stuffed Clothes-suits," that chatter and grin meaningless on him, quite ghastly to the earnest soul, — think what significance there is ! Of men who, in such sense, are alive, and see with eyes the number is now not great : it may be well, if in this huge French Revolution itself, with its all-developing fury, we find some Three. Mortals driven rabid we find ; sputtering the acridest logic ; baring their breast to the battle-hail, their neck to the guillotine : — of whom it is so painful to say that they too are still, in good part, manufactured Formalities, not facts but Hearsays ! Honor to the strong man, in these ages, who has shaken him- self loose of shams, and is something. For in the way of being worthy, the first condition surely is that one be. Let Cant cease, at all risks and at all costs : till Cant cease, nothing else can begin. Of human Criminals, in these centuries, writes the Moralist, I find but one unforgivable : the Quack. " Hateful to God," as divine Dante sings, " and to the Enemies of God, "A Dio spiacente ed a' nemici siii! " But whoever will, with sympathy, which is the first essential towards insight, look at this questionable Mirabeau, may find that there lay verily in him, as the basis of all, a Sincerity, a great free Earnestness ; nay call it Honesty, for the man did before all things see, with that clear flashing vision, into what •was, into what existed as fact ; and did, with his wild heart, fol- low that and no other. Whereby on what ways soever he travels and struggles, often enough falling, he is still a brother man. k 374 CARLYLE [1 791 Hate him not ; thou canst not hate him ! Shining through such soil and tarnish, and now victorious effulgent, and oftenest struggling eclipsed, the light of genius itself is in this man; which was never yet base and hateful ; but at worst was lament- able, lovable with pity. They say that he was ambitious, that he wanted to be Minister. It is most true. And was he not simply the one man in France who could have done any good as Minister ? Not vanity alone, not pride alone ; far from that ! Wild burstings of affection were in this great heart ; of fierce lightning, and soft dew of pity. So sunk bemired in wretchedest defacements, it may be said of him, like the Magdalen of old, that he loved much : his Father, the harshest of old crabbed men, he loved with warmth, with veneration. r Be it that his falls and follies are manifold, — as himself often lamented even with tears.i Alas, is not the Life of every such man already a poetic Tragedy ; made up " of Fate and of one's own Deservings," of Schicksal nnd eigene Schuld; full of the ! elements of Pity and Fear? This brother man, if not Epic for \J_ ' us, is Tragic ; if not great, is large ; large in his qualities, world- large in his destinies. Whom other men, recognizing him as such, may, through long times, remember, and draw nigh to I examine and consider: these, in their several dialects, will say ] of him and sing of him, — till the right thing be said ; and so the ■ Formula that can judge him be no longer an undiscovered one. Here then the wild Gabriel Honore drops from the tissue of our History; not without a tragic farewell. He is gone: the flower of the wild Riquetti or Arrighetti kindred ; which seems as if in him, with one last effort, it had done its best, and then expired, or sunk down to the undistinguished level. Crabbed old Marquis Mirabeau, the Friend of Men, sleeps sound. The Bailli Mirabeau, worthy Uncle, will soon die forlorn, alone. Barrel-Mirabeau, already gone across the Rhine, his Regiment of Emigrants will drive nigh desperate. " Barrel-Mirabeau," says a biographer of his, " went indignantly across the Rhine, and drilled Emigrant Regiments. But as he sat one morning in his tent, sour of stomach doubtless and of heart, meditating in Tartarean humor on the turn things took, a certain Captain or Subaltern demanded admittance on business. Such Captain is refused ; he again demands, with refusal ; and then again ; till Colonel Viscount Barrel-Mirabeau, blazing up into a mere burn- j Dumont, p. 287. April 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 375 ing brandy-barrel, clutches his sword, and tumbles out on this canaille of an intruder, — alas, on the canaille of an intruder's sword-point, who had drawn with swift dexterity ; and dies, and the Newspapers name it apoplexy and alarming accident." So die the Mirabeaus. New Mirabeaus one hears not of : the wild kindred, as we said, is gone out with this its greatest. As families and kindreds sometimes do ; producing, after long ages of unnoted notability, some living quintessence of all the qualities they had, to flame forth as a man world-noted ; after whom they rest as if ex- hausted ; the sceptre passing to others. The chosen Last of the Mirabeaus is gone ; the chosen man of France is gone. It was he who shook old France from its basis ; and, as if with his single hand, has held it toppling there, still unfallen. What things de- pended on that one man ! He is as a ship suddenly shivered on sunk rocks : much swims on the waste waters, far from help. BOOK FOURTH. VARENNES. Chapter I. — Easter at Saint-Cloud. THE French Monarchy may now therefore be considered as, in all human probability, lost; as struggling hence- forth in blindness as well as weakness, the last light of reasonable guidance having gone out. What remains of re- sources their poor Majesties will waste still further, in uncertain loitering and wavering. Mirabeau himself had to complain that they only gave him half confidence, and always had some plan within his plan. Had they fled frankly with him to Rouen or anywhither, long ago ! They may fly now with chance im- measurably lessened ; which will go on lessening towards abso- lute zero. Decide, O Queen ; poor Louis can decide nothing : execute this Flight-project, or at least abandon it. Correspond- ence with Bouille there has been enough ; what profits consulting and hypothesis, while all around is in fierce activity of practice ? The Rustic sits waiting till the river run dry : alas, with you it is not a common river, but a Nile Inundation ; snows melting in the unseen mountains ; till all, and you where you sit, be sub- merged. Many things invite to flight. The voice of Journals invites ; Royalist Journals proudly hinting it as a threat. Patriot Journals rabidly denouncing it as a terror. Mother Society, waxing more and more emphatic, invites ; — so emphatic that, as was prophe- sied, Lafayette and your limited Patriots have ere long to branch ofif from her, and from themselves into Feuillans ; with infinite public controversy; the victory in which, doubtful though it look, will remain with the Mwlimited Mother. Moreover, ever since the Day of Poniards, we have seen unlimited Patriotism openly equipping itself with arms. Citizens denied "activity," which is facetiously made to signify a certain weight of purse, cannot buy blue uniforms, and be Guardsmen; but man is 376 April] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 377 greater than blue cloth ; man can fight, if need be, in multiform cloth, or even almost without cloth, — as Sansculotte. So pikes continue to be hammered, whether those Dirks of improved structure with barbs be " meant for the West-India market," or not meant. Men beat, the wrong way, their plough-shares into swords. Is there not what we may call an " Austrian Committee," Coniite Autrichien, sitting daily and nightly in the Tuileries? Patriotism, by vision and suspicion, knows it too well ! If the King fly, will there not be Aristocrat- Austrian in- vasion ; butchery ; replacement of Feudalism ; wars more than civil ? The hearts of men are saddened and maddened. Dissident Priests likewise give trouble enough. Expelled from their Parish Churches, where Constitutional Priests, elect- ed by the Public, have replaced them, these unhappy persons resort to Convents of Nuns, or other such receptacles ; and there, on Sabbath, collecting assemblages of Anti-Constitutional in- dividuals, who have grown devout all on a sudden,a they worship or pretend to worship in their strait-laced contu- macious manner ; to the scandal of Patriotism. Dissident Priests, passing along with their sacred wafer for the dying, seem wishful to be massacred in the streets; wherein Patriot- ism will not gratify them. Slighter palm of martyrdom, how- ever, shall not be denied : martyrdom not of massacre, yet of fustigation. At the refractory places of worship, Patriot men appear; Patriot women with strong hazel wands, which they apply. Shut thy eyes, O Reader; see not this misery, peculiar to these later times, — of martyrdom without sin- cerity, with only cant and contumacy! A dead Catholic Church is not allowed to lie dead ; no it is galvanized into the detestablest death-life ; whereat Humanity, we say, shuts its eyes. For the Patriot women take their hazel wands, and fustigate, amid laughter of bystanders, with alacrity : broad bottom of Priests ; alas, Nuns too, reversed and cotillons re- trousses! The National Guard does what it can: Municipality " invokes the Prinicples of Toleration ;" grants Dissident wor- shippers the Church of the Thcatins: promising protection. But it is to no purpose : at the door of that Thcatins Church appears a Placard, and suspended atop, like Plebeian Consular fasces — a bundle of Rods ! The Principles of Toleration must do the best they may: but no Dissident man shall worship contuma- a Toulongeon, i. 262. 378 CARLYLE [1791 ciously; there is a Plebiscitum to that effect; which, though unspoken, is like the laws of the Medes and Persians. Dissident contumacious Priests ought not to be harbored, even in private, by any man: the Club of the Cordeliers openly denounces Majesty himself as doing it.^ Many things invite to flight : but probably this thing above all others, that it has become impossible! On the 15th of April, notice is given that his Majesty, who has suffered much from catarrh lately, will enjoy the Spring weather, for a few days, at Saint-Cloud. Out at Saint-Cloud? Wishing to celebrate hia Easter, his Paqucs or Pasch, there ; with refractory Anti-Con- stitutional Dissidents? — Wishing rather to make off for Com- piegne, and thence to the Frontiers? As were, in good sooth, perhaps feasible, or would once have been ; nothing but some two chasseurs attending you ; chasseurs easily corrupted ! It is a pleasant possibility, execute it or not. Men say there are thirty thousand Chevaliers of the Poniard lurking in the woods there : lurking in the woods, and thirty thousand, — for the hu- man Imagination is not fettered. But now, how easily might these, dashing out on Lafayette, snatch off the Hereditary Rep- resentative; and roll away with him, after the manner of a whirl-blast, whither they listed ! — Enough, it were well the King did not go. Lafayette is forewarned and forearmed: but, in- deed, is the risk his only; or his and all France's? Monday the eighteenth of April is come ; the Easter Journey to Saint-Cloud shall take effect. National Guard has got its orders ; a First Division, as Advanced Guard, has even marched, and probably arrived. His Majesty's Maison-houche, they say, is all busy stewing and frying at Saint-Cloud ; the King's dinner not far from ready there. About one o'clock, the Royal Car- riage, with its eight royal blacks, shoots stately into the Place du Carrousel ; draws up to receive its royal burden. But hark ! from the neighboring Church of Saint-Roch, the tocsin begins ding-dong-ing. Is the King stolen, then ; is he going; gone? Multitudes of persons crowd the Carrousel : the Royal Carriage still stands there, — and, by Heaven's strength, shall stand ! Lafayette comes up, with aides-de-camp and oratory ; pervad- ing the groups : " Taisea-vous," answer the groups ; " the King shall not go." Monsieur appears, at an upper window: ten thousand voices bray and shriek, " Nous ne voulons pas que le b Newspapers of April and June 1791 (in Hist. Pari. ix. 449; x. 217). April-June] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 379 Roi parte." Their Majesties have mounted. Crack go the whips ; but twenty Patriot arms have seized each of the eight bridles : there is rearing, rocking, vociferation ; not the smallest headway. In vain does Lafayette fret, indignant ; and perorate and strive : Patriots in the passion of terror bellow round the Royal Carriage ; it is one bellowing sea of Patriot terror run frantic. Will Royalty fly off towards Austria ; like a lit rocket, towards endless Conflagration of Civil War? Stop it, ye Patriots, in the name of Heaven ! Rude voices passionately apostrophize Royalty itself. Usher Campan, and other the like official persons, pressing forward with help or advice, are clutched by the sashes, and hurled and whirled, in a confused perilous manner; so that her Majesty has to plead passionately from the carriage-window. Order cannot be heard, cannot be followed ; National Guards know not how to act. Centre Grenadiers, of the Observatoire Battalion, are there ; not on duty ; alas, in quasi-mutiny ; speak- ing rude disobedient words ; threatening the mounted Guards with sharp shot if they hurt the People. Lafayette mounts and dismounts ; runs haranguing, panting ; on the verge of despair. For an hour and three-quarters ; " seven quarters of an hour," by the Tuileries Clock ! Desperate Lafayette will open a pass- age, were it by the cannon's mouth, if his Majesty will order. Their Majesties, counselled to it by Royalist friends, by Patriot foes, dismount ; and retire in, with heavy indignant heart ; giving up the enterprise. Maison-honche may eat that cooked dinner themselves : his Majesty shall not see Saint-Cloud this day, — nor any day.c The pathetic fable of imprisonment in one's own Palace has become a sad fact, then? Majesty complains to Assembly; Municipality deliberates, proposes to petition or address ; Sec- tions respond with sullen brevity of negation. Lafayette flings down his Commission ; appears in civic pepper-and-salt frock ; and cannot be flattered back again ; not in less than three days ; and by imheard-of entreaty; National Guards kneeling to him, and declaring that it is not sycophancy, that they are free men kneeling here to the Statue of Liberty. For the rest, those Centre Grenadiers of the Observatoire are disbanded, — yet in- deed are re-enlisted, all but fourteen, under a new name, and with new quarters. The King must keep his Easter in Paris ; c Deux Amis, vi. c. 1.; Hist. Pari. ix. 407-14. 380 CARLYLE [1 79 1 meditating much on this singular posture of things ; but as good as determined now to fly from it, desire being whetted by difficulty. Chapter II. — Easter at Paris. For above a year, ever since March 1790, it would seem, there has hovered a project of Flight before the royal mind ; and ever and anon has been condensing itself into something like a purpose ; but this or the other difficulty always vaporized it again. It seems so full of risks, perhaps of civil war itself ; above all, it cannot be done without effort. Somnolent laziness will not serve : to fly, if not in a leather vache, one must verily stir oneself. Better to adopt that Constitution of theirs ; execute it so as to show all men that it is zwexecutable ? Better or not so good : surely it is easier. To all difficulties you need only say. There is a lion in the path, behold your Constitution will not act ! For a somnolent person it requires no effort to coun- terfeit death, — as Dame de Stael and Friends of Liberty can see the King's Government long doing, faisant la mart. Nay now, when desire whetted by difficulty has brought the matter to a head, and the royal mind no longer halts between two, what can come of it ? Grant that poor Louis were safe with Bouille, what, on the whole, could he look for there? Ex- asperated Tickets of Entry answer : Much, all. But cold Reason answers : Little, almost nothing. Is not loyalty a law of Nature ? ask the Tickets of Entry. Is not love of your King, and even death for him, the glory of all Frenchmen, — except these few Democrats? Let Democrat Constitution-builders see what they will do without their Keystone ; and France rend its hair, having lost the Hereditary Representative ! Thus will King Louis fly ; one sees not reasonably towards what. As a maltreated Boy, shall we say, who, having a Step- mother, rushes sulky into the wide world ; and will wring the paternal heart? — Poor Louis escapes from known unsupport- able evils, to an unknown mixture of good and evil, colored by Hope. He goes, as Rabelais did when dying, to seek a great May-be : je vais chercher un grand Peut-ctre! As not only the sulky Boy but the wise grown Man is obliged to do, so often, in emergencies. For the rest, there is still no lack of stimulants, and step- May 4th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 381 dame maltreatments, to keep one's resolution at the due pitch. Factious disturbances cease not : as indeed how can they, unless authoritatively conjured, in a Revolt which is by nature bottom- less? If the ceasing of faction be the price of the King's somnolence, he may awake when he will and take wing. Remark, in any case, what somersets and contortions a dead Catholicism is making, — skilfully galvanized : hideous, and even piteous, to behold ! Jurant and Dissident, with their shaved crowns, argue frothing everywhere ; or are ceasing to argue, and stripping for battle. In Paris was scourging while need con- tinued : contrariwise, in the Morbihan of Brittany, without scourging, armed Peasants are up, roused by pulpit-drum, they know not why. General Dumouriez, who has got missioned thitherward, finds all in sour heat of darkness ; finds also that explanation and conciliation will still do much.* But again, consider this : that his Holiness, Pius Sixth, has seen good to excommunicate Bishop Talleyrand ! Surely, we will say then, considering it, there is no living or dead Church in the Earth that has not the indubitablest right to excommunicate Talleyrand. Pope Pius has right and might, in his way. But truly so likewise has Father Adam, ci-devant Marquis Saint- Huruge, in his way. Behold, therefore, on the Fourth of May, in the Palais Royal, a mixed loud-sounding multitude ; in the middle of whom, Father Adam, bull-voiced Saint-Huruge, in white hat, towers visible and audible. With him, it is said, walks Journalist Gorsas, walk many others of the washed sort ; for no authority will interfere. Pius Sixth, with his plush and tiara, and power of the Keys, they bear aloft : of natural size, — made of lath and combustible gum. Royou, the King's Friend, is borne too in effigy ; with a pile of Newspaper King's-Friends, condemned Numbers of the Ami-dn-Roi; fit fuel of the sacrifice. Speeches are spoken ; a judgment is held, a doom proclaimed, audible in bull-voice, towards the four winds. And thus, amid great shouting, the holocaust is consummated, under the sum- mer sky ; and our lath-and-gum Holiness, with the attendant victims, mounts up in flame, and sinks down in ashes ; a decom- posed Pope : and right or might, among all the parties, has better or worse accomplished itself, as it could. o But. on the whole, reckoning from Martin Luther in the Market-place of Witten- *Deux Amis, v. 410-21 ; Dumouriez, ii. c. 5. a Hist. Pari. x. 99-102. 382 CARLYLE [1 791 berg to Marquis Saint-Huruge in this Palais Royal of Paris, what a journey have we gone ; into what strange territories has it carried us ! No Authority can now interfere. Nay Religion herself, mourning for such things, may after all ask, What have / to do with them ? In such extraordinary manner does dead Catholicism somerset and caper, skilfully galvanized. For, does the reader inquire into the subject-matter of controversy in this case; what the difference between Orthodoxy or My-doxy and Heterodoxy or Thy-doxy might here be ? My-doxy is, that an august National Assembly can equalize the extent of Bishoprics ; that an equal- ized Bishop, his Creed and Formularies being left quite as they were, can swear Fidelity to King, Law and Nation, and so be- come a Constitutional Bishop. Thy-doxy, if thou be Dissident, is that he cannot ; but that he must become an accursed thing. Human ill-nature needs but some Homoiousian iota, or even the pretense of one ; and will flow copiously through the eye of a needle: thus always must mortals go jargoning and fuming, And, like the ancient Stoics in their porches. With fierce dispute maintain their churches. This AutO'da-fe of Saint-Huruge's was on the Fourth of May 1791, Royalty sees it ; but says nothing. Chapter III. — Count Fersen. Royalty, in fact, should, by this time, be far on with its prepa- rations. Unhappily much preparation is needful. Could a Hereditary Representative be carried in leather vachc, how easy were it ! But it is not so. New Clothes are needed ; as usual, in all Epic transactions, were it in the grimmest iron ages ; consider " Queen Chrimhilde, with her sixty sempstresses," in that iron Nihelimgcn Song! No Queen can stir without new clothes. Therefore, now. Dame Campan whisks assiduous to this mantua-maker and to that: and there is clipping of frocks and gowns, upper clothes and under, great and small ; such a clipping and sewing as — might have been dispensed with. Moreover, her Majesty cannot go a step anywhither without her Necessaire; dear Necessaire, of inlaid ivory and rosewood ; cunningly devised ; which holds May.June] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 383 perfumes, toilette-implements, infinite small qucenlike furni- tures : necessary to terrestrial life. Not without a cost of some five hundred louis, of much precious time, and difficult hood- winking which does not blind, can this same Necessary of life be forwarded by the Flanders Carriers, — never to get to hand.^ All which, you would say, augurs ill for the prospering of the enterprise. But the whims of women and queens must be humored. Bouille, on his side, is making a fortified Camp at Montmedi; gathering Royal-Allemand, and all manner of other German and true French Troops thither, "to watch the Austrians." His' Majesty will not cross the frontiers, unless on compulsion. Neither shall the Emigrants be much employed, hateful as they are to all people.^ Nor shall old war-god Broglie have any hand in the business ; but solely our brave Bouille ; to whom, on the day of meeting, a Marshal's Baton shall be delivered, by a rescued King, amid the shouting of all the troops. In the mean while, Paris being so suspicious, were it not perhaps good to write your Foreign Ambassadors an ostensible Constitutional Letter ; desiring all Kings and men to take heed that King Louis loves the Constitution, that he has voluntarily sworn, and does again swear, to maintain the same, and will reckon those his enemies who affect to say otherwise? Such a Constitutional Circular is dispatched by Couriers, is communicated confi- dentially to the Assembly, and printed in all Newspapers ; with the finest effect.^ Simulation and dissimulation mingle exten- sively in human affairs. We observe, however, that Count Fersen is often using his Ticket of Entry ; which surely he has clear right to do. A gal- lant Soldier and Swede, devoted to this fair Queen ; — as indeed the Highest Swede now is. Has not King Gustav, famed fiery Chevalier du Nord, sworn himself, by the old laws of chivalry, her Knight? He will descend on fire-wings, of Swedish mus- ketry, and deliver her from these foul dragons, — if, alas, the assassin's pistol intervene not ! But, in fact, Count Fersen does seem a likely young soldier, of alert decisive ways : he circulates widely, seen, unseen ; and has business on hand. Also Colonel the Duke de Choiseul, nephew of Choiseul the great, of Choiseul the now deceased ; b Campan, ii. c. 18. c Bntiille. Mcmoircs, ii. c. 10. d Moniteiir, Seance du 2Z Avril I7pi. 384 CARLYLE [1791 he and Engineer Goguelat are passing and repassing between Metz and the Tuileries : and Letters go in cipher, — one of them, a most important one, hard to J^cipher ; Fersen having ciphered it in haste.^ As for Duke de Villequier, he is gone ever since the Day of Poniards; but his Apartment is useful for her Majesty. On the other side, poor Commandant Gouvion, watching at the Tuileries, second in National command, sees several things hard to interpret. It is the same Gouvion who sat, long months ago, at the Townhall, gazing helpless into that Insurrection of Women ; motionless, as the brave stabled steed when conflagra- tion rises, till Usher Maillard snatched his drum. Sincerer Patriot there is not ; but many a shiftier. He, if Dame Campan gossip credibly, is paying some similitude of love-court to a certain false Chambermaid of the Palace, who betrays much to him: the Nccessaire, the clothes, the packing of jewels,/' — could he understand it when betrayed. Helpless Gouvion gazes with sincere glassy eyes into it; stirs up his sentries to vigilance; walks restless to and fro ; and hopes the best. But, on the whole, one finds that, in the second week of June, Colonel de Choiseul is privately in Paris ; having come " to see his children." Also that Fersen has got a stupendous new Coach built, of the kind named Berline; done by the first artists; ac- cording to a model : they bring it home to him, in ChoiseuFs presence; the two friends take a proof-drive in it, along the streets ; in meditative mood ; then send it up to " Madame Sulli- van's, in the Rue de Clichy," far North, to wait there till wanted. Apparently a certain Russian Baroness de Korff, with Waiting- woman, Valet, and two Children, will travel homewards with some state : in whom these young military gentlemen take in- terest ? A Passport has been procured for her ; and much as- sistance shown, with Coachbuilders and suchlike ; — so helpful- polite are young military men. Fersen has likewise purchased a Chaise fit for two, at least for two waiting-maids ; further, cer- tain necessary horses: one would say, he is himself quitting France, not without outlay? We observe finally that their Majesties, Heaven willing, will assist at Corpus-Chnsti Day, this blessed Summer Solstice, in Assumption Church, here at Paris, to the joy of all the world. For which same day, more- e Choiseul, Relation du Depart de Louis XVI (Paris, 1822), p. 39. / Campan, ii. 141. June 2oth-2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 385 over, brave Bouille, at Metz, as we find, has invited a party of friends to dinner ; but indeed is gone from home, in the interim, over to Montmedi. These are of the Phenomena, or visual Appearances, of this wide- working terrestrial world : which truly is all phenomenal, what they call spectral ; and never rests at any moment ; one never at any moment can know why. On Monday night, the Twentieth of June 1791, about eleven o'clock, there is many a hackney-coach, and glass-coach (car- rosse de remise), still rumbling, or at rest, on the streets of Paris. But of all glass-coaches, we recommend this to thee, O Reader, which stands drawn up in the Rue de TEchelle, hard by the Car- rousel and outgate of the Tuileries ; in the Rue de I'Echelle that then was ; " opposite Ronsin the saddler's door," as if waiting for a fare there ! Not long does it wait : a hooded Dame, with two hooded Children has issued from Villequier's door, where no sentry walks, into the Tuileries Court-of-Princes ; into the Carrousel ; into the Rue de I'Echelle ; where the Glass-coachman readily admits them ; and again waits. Not long ; another Dame, likewise hooded or shrouded, leaning on a servant, issues in the same manner ; bids the servant good-night ; and is, in the same manner, by the Glass-coachman, cheerfully admitted. Whither go so many Dames? 'Tis his Majesty's Couchce, Majesty just gone to bed, and all the Palace-world is retiring home. But the Glass-coachman still waits ; his fare seemingly incomplete. By and by, we note a thickset Individual, in round hat and peruke, arm-and-arm with some servant, seemingly of the Run- ner or Courier sort ; he also issues through Villequier's door ; starts a shoebuckle as he passes one of the sentries, stoops down to clasp it again ; is however, by the Glass-coachman, still more cheerfully admitted. And fiow, is his fare complete? Not yet; the Glass-coachman still waits. — Alas ! and the false Chamber- maid has warned Gouvion that she thinks the Royal Family will fly this very night; and Gouvion, distrusting his own glazed eyes, has sent express for Lafayette ; and Lafayette's Carriage, flaring with lights, rolls this moment through the inner Arch of the Carrousel, — where a Lady shaded in broad gypsy-hat, and leaning on the arm of a servant, also of the Runner or Courier sort, stands aside to let it pass, and has even the whim to touch a spoke of it with her badine, — light little magic rod which she calls badine, such as the Beautiful then wore. The flare of La- VoL. I.— 25 386 CARLYLE [1791 fayette's Carriage rolls past : all is found quiet in the Court-of- Princes ; sentries at their post ; Majesties' Apartments closed in smooth rest. Your false Chambermaid must have been mis- taken ? Watch thou, Gouvion, with Argus' vigilance ; for, of a truth, treachery is within these walls. But where is the Lady that stood aside in gypsy-hat, and touched the wheel-spoke with her badinef O Reader, that Lady that touched the wheel-spoke was the Queen of France ! She has issued safe through that inner Arch, into the Carrousel it- self ; but not into the Rue de TEchelle. Flurried by the rattle and rencounter, she took the right hand not the left ; neither she nor her Courier knows Paris ; he indeed is no Courier, but a loyal stupid ci-devant Bodyguard disguised as one. They are off, quite wrong, over the Pont Royal and River ; roaming disconso- late in the Rue du Bac ; far from the Glass-coachman, who still waits. Waits, with flutter of heart; with thoughts — which he must button close up, under his jarvie-surtout ! Midnight clangs from all the City-steeples ; one precious hour has been spent so; most mortals are asleep. The Glass-coach- man waits ; and in what mood ! A brother jarvie drives up, en- ters into conversation; is answered cheerfully in jarvie-dialect: the brothers of the whip exchange a pinch of snuff ;g decline drinking together ; and part with good-night. Be the Heavens blest ! here at length is the Queen-lady, in gypsy-hat ; safe after perils ; who has had to inquire her way. She too is admitted ; her Courier jumps aloft, as the other, who is also a disguised Bodyguard, has done : and now, O Glass-coachman of a thou- sand, — Count Fersen, for the Reader sees it is thou, — drive ! Dust shall not stick to the hoofs of Fersen : crack ! crack ! the Glass-coach rattles, and every soul breathes lighter. But is Fersen on the right road? North-eastward, to the Barrier of Saint-Martin and Metz Highway, thither were we bound : and lo, he drives right Northward ! The royal Individual, in round hat and peruke, sits astonished ; but right or wrong, there is no remedy. Crack, crack, we go incessant, through the slumber- ing City. Seldom, since Paris rose out of mud, or the Long- haired Kings went in Bullock-carts, was there such a drive. Mortals on each hand of you, close by, stretched out horizontal, dormant ; and we alive and quaking ! Crack, crack, through the Rue de Grammont ; across the Boulevard ; up the Rue de la g Weber, ii. 340-2 ; Choiseul, pp. 44-56. June 2oth-2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 3S7 Chaussee d'Antin, — these windows, all silent, of Number 42, were Mirabeau's. Towards the Barrier not of Saint-Martin, but of Clichy on the utmost North ! Patience, ye royal Individuals ; Fersen understands what he is about. Passing up the Rue de Clichy, he alights for one moment at Madame Sullivan's : "Did Count Fersen's Coachman get the Baroness de Korff's new Ber- line ? " — " Gone with it an hour-and-half ago," grumbles re- sponsive the drowsy Porter. — " C'est hien." Yes, it is well ; — though had not such hour-and-half been lost it were still better. Forth therefore, O Fersen, fast, by the Barrier de Clichy ; then Eastward along the Outer Boulevard, what horses and whip- cord can do ! Thus Fersen drives, through the ambrosial night. Sleeping Paris is now all on the right-hand of him ; silent except for some snoring hum : and now he is Eastward as far as the Barrier de Saint-Martin ; looking earnestly for Baroness de Korff's Berline. This Heaven's Berline he at length does descry, drawn up with its six horses, his own German Coachman waiting on the box. Right, thou good German : now haste, whither thou knowest ! — And as for us of the Glass-coach, haste too, O haste ; much time is already lost ! The august Glass-coach fare, six Insides, has- tily packs itself into the new Berline ; two Bodyguard Couriers behind. The Glass-coach itself is turned adrift, its head towards the City ; to wander whither it lists, — and be found next morn- ing tumbled in a ditch. But Fersen is on the new box, with its brave new hammer-cloths ; flourishing his whip ; he bolts for- ward towards Bondy. There a third and final Bodyguard Courier of ours ought surely to be, with post-horses ready- ordered. There likewise ought that purchased Chaise, with the two Waiting-maids and their bandboxes, to be ; whom also her Majesty could not travel without. Swift, thou deft Fersen, and may the Heavens turn it well ! Once more, by Heaven's blessing, it is all well. Here is the sleeping Hamlet of Bondy ; Chaise with Waiting-women ; horses all ready, and postillions with their churn-boots, impatient in the dewy dawn. Brief harnessing done, the postillions with their churn-boots vault into the saddles ; brandish circularly their little noisy whips. Fersen, under his jarvie-surtout, bends in lowly silent reverence of adieu ; roj^al hands wave speechless inex- pressible response; Baroness de Korff's Berline, with the Royalty of France, bounds off: forever, as it proved. Deft Fer- 388 CARLYLE [1791 sen dashes obliquely Northward, through the country, towards Bougret; gains Bougret, finds his German Coachman and chariot waiting there ; cracks off, and drives undiscovered into unknown space. A deft active man, we say ; what he undertook to do is nimbly and successfully done. And so the Royalty of France is actually fled ? This precious night, the shortest of the year, it flies, and drives ! Baroness de Korff is, at bottom, Dame de Tourzel, Governess of the Royal Children : she who came hooded with the two hooded little ones ; little Dauphin; little Madame Royale, known long afterwards as Duchesse d'Angouleme. Baroness de Korfif's Waiting-maid is the Queen in gypsy-hat. The royal Individual in round hat and peruke, he is Valet for the time being. The other hooded Dame, styled Travelling-companion, is kind Sister Elizabeth; she had sworn, long since, when the Insurrection of Women was, that only death should part her and them. And so they rush there, not too impetuously, through the Wood of Bondy : — over a Rubicon in their own and France's History. Great; though the future is all vague! If we reach Bouille? If we do not reach him? O Louis! and this all round thee is the great slumbering Earth (and overhead, the great watchful Heaven) ; the slumbering Wood of Bondy, — where Longhaired Childeric Donothing was struck through with iron ;/» not un- reasonably, in a world like ours. These peaked stone-towers are Raincy ; towers of wicked D'Orleans. All slumbers save the multiplex rustle of our new Berline. Loose-skirted scarecrow of an Herb-merchant, with his ass and early greens, toilsomely plodding, seems the only creature we meet. But right ahead the great Northeast sends up evermore his gray brindled dawn : from dewy branch, birds here and there, with short deep warble, salute the coming Sun. Stars fade out, and Galaxies ; Street- lamps of the City of God. The Universe, O my brothers, is flinging wide its portals for the Levee of the Great High King. Thou, poor King Louis, farest nevertheless, as mortals do, to- wards Orient lands of Hope ; and the Tuileries with its Levees, and France and the Earth itself, is but a larger kind of doghutch, — occasionally going rabid. h Renault, Abrege Chronologtque, p. 36. Juneaist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 389 Chapter IV. — Attitude. But in Paris, at six in the morning; when some Patriot Deputy, warned by a billet, awoke Lafayette, and they went to the Tuileries? — Imagination may paint, but words cannot, the surprise of Lafayette ; or with what bewilderment helpless Gou- vion rolled glassy Argus' eyes, discerning now that his false Chambermaid had told true ! However, it is to be recorded that Paris, thanks to an august National Assembly, did, on this seeming doomsday, surpass it- self. Never, according to Historian eye-witnesses, was there seen such an " imposing attitude. "»' Sections all " in perma- nence ; " our Townhall too, having first, about ten o'clock, fired three solemn alarm-cannons : above all, our National Assembly ! National Assembly, likewise permanent, decides what is need- ful ; wath unanimous consent, for the Cote Droit sits dumb, afraid of the Lanterne. Decides with a calm promptitude, which rises towards the sublime. One must needs vote, for the thing is self-evident, that his Majesty has been abducted, or spirited away, " enlevc," by some person or persons unknown : in which case, what will the Constitvition have us do? Let us return to first principles, as we always say : " revenons anx principes." By first or by second principles, much is promptly decided: Ministers are sent for, instructed how to continue their func- tions ; Lafayette is examined ; and Gouvion, who gives a most helpless account, the best he can. Letters are found written : one Letter, of immense magnitude; all in his Majesty's hand, and evidently of his Majesty's own composition ; addressed to the National Assembly. It details with earnestness, with a child- like simplicity, what woes his Majesty has suffered. Woes great and small : A Necker seen applauded, a Majesty not ; then in- surrection ; want of due furniture in Tuileries Palace ; want of due cash in Civil List ; general want of cash, of furniture and order ; anarchy everywhere : Deficit never yet, in the smallest, " choked or comhlc:" — wherefore, in brief, his Majesty has re- tired towards a place of Liberty ; and, leaving Sanctions, Federa- tion, and what Oaths there may be, to shift for themselves, does now refer — to what, thinks an august Assembly? To that i Deux Amis, vi. 67-178; Toulongcon, ii. 1-38; Caniillc, Prudhomnie and Editors (in Hist. Pari. x. 240-4). 390 CARLYLE [1791 " Declaration of the Twenty-third of June," with its ''Seul il fera, He alone will make his People happy." As if that were not buried, deep enough, under two irrevocable Twelvemonths, and the wreck and rubbish of a whole Feudal World ! This strange autograph Letter the National Assembly decides on printing ; on transmitting to the Eighty-three Departments, with exegetic commentary, short but pithy. Commissioners also shall go forth on all sides ; the People be exhorted ; the Armies be in- creased ; care taken that the Commonweal suffer no damage. — And now, with a sublime air of calmness, nay of indifference, we " pass to the order of the day ! " By such sublime calmness, the terror of the People is calmed. These gleaming Pike-forests, which bristled fateful in the early sun, disappear again ; the far-sounding Street-orators cease, or spout milder. We are to have a civil war ; let us have it then. V The King is gone ; but National Assembly, but France and we remain. The People also takes a great attitude ; the People , also is calm; motionless as a couchant lion. With but a few hroolings, some waggings of the tail ; to show what it zvill do ! Cazales, for instance, was beset by street-groups, and cries of Lanterne; but National Patrols easily delivered him. Likewise all King's effigies and statues, at least stucco ones, get abolished. Even King's names; the word Roi fades suddenly out of all shop-signs ; the Royal Bengal Tiger itself, on the Boulevards, becomes the National Bengal one, Tigre National.] How great is a calm couchant People! On the morrow, men will say to one another : " We have no King, yet we slept sound enough." On the morrow, fervent Achille de Chatelet, and Thomas Paine the rebellious Needleman, shall have the walls of Paris profusely plastered with their Placard ; announcing that there must be a Republic.^ — Need we add, that Lafayette too, though at first menaced by Pikes, has taken a great attitude, or indeed the greatest of all ? Scouts and Aides-de-camp fly forth, vague, in quest and pursuit ; young Romoeuf towards Valen- ciennes, though with small hope. Thus Paris ; sublimely calmed, in its bereavement. But from the Messageries Royalcs, in all Mail-bags, radiates forth far- darting the electric news : Our Hereditary Representative is flown. Laugh, black Royalists : yet be it in your sleeve only ; lest Patriotism notice, and waxing frantic, lower the Lanterne ! In j VValpoliana. k Dumont, c. 16. June2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 391 Paris alone is a sublime National Assembly with its calmness; truly, other places must take it as they can: with open mouth and eyes; with panic cackling, with wrath, with conjecture. How each one of those dull leathern Diligences, with its leathern bag and " The King is fled," furrows up smooth France as it goes ; through town and hamlet, ruffles the smooth public mind into quivering agitation of death-terror; then lumbers on, as if nothing had happened! Along all highways; towards the utmost borders ; till all France is ruffled, — roughened up (metaphorically speaking) into one enormous, desperate-mind- ed red guggling Turkey Cock ! For example, it is under cloud of night that the leathern Monster reaches Nantes ; deep sunk in sleep. The word spoken rouses all Patriotic men: General Dumouriez, enveloped in roquelaures, has to descend from his bedroom ; finds the street covered with " four or five thousand citizens in their shirts."^ Here and there a faint farthing rushlight, hastily kindled ; and so many swart-featured haggard faces with nightcaps pushed back ; and the more or less flowing drapery of nightshirt : open- mouthed till the General say his word ! And overhead, as al- ways, the Great Bear is turning so quiet round Bootes ; steady, indifferent as the leathern Diligence itself. Take comfort, ye men of Nantes ; Bootes and the steady Bear are turning ; an- cient Atlantic still sends his brine, loud-billowing, up your Loire stream ; brandy shall be hot in the stomach ; this is not the Last of the Days, but one before the Last. — The fools ! If they knew what was doing, in these very instants, also by candle- light, in the far Northeast ! Perhaps, we may say, the most terrified man in Paris or France is — who thinks the Reader? — seagreen Robespierre. Double paleness, with the shadow of gibbets and halters, over- casts the seagreen features : it is too clear to him that there is to be " a Saint-Bartholomew of Patriots," that in four-and- twenty hours he will not be in life. These horrid anticipations of the soul he is heard uttering at Petion's : by a notable witness. By Madame Roland, namely : her whom we saw last year, radiant at the Lyons Federation. These four months, the Rolands have been in Paris ; arranging with Assembly Com- mittees the Municipal affairs of Lyons, affairs all sunk in debt ; communing, the while, as was most natural, with the best / Dumouriez, Memoires, ii. 109. 392 CARLYLE [i79i Patriots to be found here, with our Brissots, Petions, Buzots, Robespierres : who were wont to come to us, says the fair Hostess, four evenings in the week. They, running about, busier than ever this day, would fain have comforted the sea- green man ; spake of Achille de Chatelet's Placard ; of a Journal to be called The Republican; of preparing men's minds for a Republic. " A Republic ? " said the Seagreen, with one of his dry husky «»sportful laughs, " What is that? ""i O seagreen Incorruptible, thou shalt see! Chapter V.— The New Berline. But scouts, all this while, and aides-de-camp, have flown forth faster than the leathern Diligences. Young Romceuf, as we said, was off early towards Valenciennes: distracted Vil- lagers seize him, as a traitor with a finger of his own in the plot; drag him back to the Townhall; to the National As- sembly, which speedily grants a new passport. Nay now, that same scarecrow of an Plerb-merchant with his ass has bethought him of the grand new Berline seen in the Wood of Bondy; and delivered evidence of it:" Romceuf, fur- nished with new passport, is sent forth with double speed on a hopefuler track; by Bondy, Claye and Chalons, towards Metz, to track the new Berline; and gallops a franc etrier. Miserable new Berline! Why could not Royalty go in some old Berline similar to that of other men? Flying for life, one does not stickle about his vehicle. Monsieur, in a commonplace travelling-carriage is off Northwards ; Madame, his Princess, in another, with variation of route: they cross one another while changing horses, without look of recogni- tion ; and reach Flanders, no man questioning them. Precisely in the same manner, beautiful Princess de Lamballe set off, about the same hour; and will reach England safe: — would she had continued there! The beautiful, the good, but the unfortunate; reserved for a frightful end! All runs along, unmolested, speedy, except only the new Berline. Huge leathern vehicle :— huge Argosy, let us say, or Acapulco ship; with its heavy stern-boat of Chaise-and- m Madame Roland, ii. 70. nMonitcur, &c. (in Hist. Pari. x. 244-253). June2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 393 pair; with its three yellow Pilot-boats of mounted Body- guard Couriers, rocking aimless round it and ahead of it, to bewilder, not to guide! It lumbers along, lurchingly with stress, at a snail's pace; noted of all the world. The Body- guard Couriers, in their yellow liveries, go prancing and clattering; loyal but stupid; unacquainted with all things. Stoppages occur; and breakages, to be repaired at Etoges. King Louis too will dismount, will walk up hills, and enjoy the blessed sunshine: — with eleven horses and double drink- money, and all furtherances of Nature and Art, it will be found that Royalty, flying for life, accomplishes Sixty-nine miles in Twenty-two incessant hours. Slow Royalty! And yet not a minute of these hours but is precious: on minutes hang the destinies of Royalty now. Readers, therefore, can judge in what humor Duke de Choi- seul might stand waiting, in the village of Pont-de-Somme- velle, some leagues beyond Chalons, hour after hour, now when the day bends visibly westward. Choiseul drove out of Paris, in all privity, ten hours before their Majesties' fixed time; his Hussars, led by Engineer Goguelat, are here duly, come " to escort a Treasure that is expected :" but, hour after hour, is no Baroness de Korff's Berline. Indeed, over all that Northeast Region, on the skirts of Champagne and of Lorraine, where the great Road runs, the agitation is con- siderable. For all along, from this Pont-de-Sommevelle North- eastward as far as Montmedi, at Post-villages and Towns, escorts of Hussars and Dragoons do lounge waiting; a train or chain of Military Escorts ; at the Montmedi end of it our brave Bouille : an electric thunder-chain ; which the invisible Bouille, like a Father Jove, holds in his hand — for wise pur- poses ! Brave Bouille has done what man could ; has spread out his electric thunder-chain of Military Escorts, onwards to the threshold of Chalons: it waits but for the new Korflf Berline ; to receive it, escort it, and, if need be, bear it off in whirlwind of military fire. They lie and lounge there, we say, these fierce Troopers ; from Montmedi and Stenai, through Clermont, Saintc-Menehould to utmost Pont-de-Sommcvelle, in all Post-villages ; for the route shall avoid Verdun and great Towns : they loiter impatient, " till the Treasure ar- rive." Judge what a day this is for brave Bouille : perhaps the 394 CARLYLE [1791 first day of a new glorious life ; surely the last day of the old ! Also, and indeed still more, what a day, beautiful and terrible, for your young full-blooded Captains : your Dandoins, Comte de Damas, Duke de Choiseul, Engineer Goguelat, and the like ; intrusted with the secret ! — Alas, the day bends ever more westward; and no Korff Berline comes to sight. It is four hours beyond the time, and still no Berline. In all Village-streets, Royalist Captains go lounging, looking often Paris-ward ; with face of unconcern, with heart full of black care : rigorous Quartermasters can hardly keep the private dragoons from cafes and dramshops.« Dawn on our bewilder- ment, thou new Berline; dawn on us, thou Sun-Chariot of a new Berline, with the destinies of France ! It was of his Majesty's ordering, this military array of Escorts : a thing solacing the Royal imagination with a look of security and rescue ; yet, in reality, creating only alarm, and, where there was otherwise no danger, danger without end. For each Patriot, in these Post-villages, asks naturally: This clatter of cavalry, and marching and lounging of troops, what means it? To escort a Treasure? Why escort, when no Patriot will steal from the Nation ; or where is your Treasure? — There has been such marching and counter- marching: for it is another fatality, that certain of these Military Escorts came out so early as yesterday; the Nine- teenth not the Twentieth of the month being the day first appointed ; which her Majesty, for some necessity or other, saw good to alter. And now consider the suspicious nature of Patriotism ; suspicious, above all, of Bouille the Aristocrat ; and how the sour doubting humor has had leave to accumu- late and exacerbate for four-and-twenty hours ! At Pont-de-Sommevelle, these Forty foreign Hussars of Go- guelat and Duke Choiseul are becoming an unspeakable mys- tery to all men. They lounged long enough, already, at Sainte-Menehould ; lounged and loitered till our National Volunteers there, all risen into hot wrath of doubt, " demanded three hundred fusils of their Townhall," and got them. At which same moment too, as it chanced, our Captain Dandoins was just coming in, from Clermont with Ms troop, at the other end of the Village. A fresh troop ; alarming enough ; though a Declaration dti Siciir La Cache du Regiment Royal-Dragons (in Choiseul, pp. 125-39). June2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 395 happily they are only Dragoons and French ! So that Gogue- lat with his Hussars had to ride, and even to do it fast ; till here at Pont-de-Sommevelle, where Choiseul lay waiting, h'e found resting-place. Resting-place as on burning marie. For the rumor of him flies abroad ; and men run to and fro in fright and anger : Chalons sends forth exploratory pickets of National Volunteers towards this hand; which meet exploratory pick- ets, coming from Sainte-Menehould, on that. What is it, ye whiskered Hussars, men of foreign guttural speech ; in the name of Heaven, what is it that brings you ? A Treasure ? — exploratory pickets shake their heads. The hungry Peasants, however, know too well what Treasure it is ; Military seizure for rents, feudalities ; which no Bailifif could make us pay ! This they know ; — and set to jingling their Parish-bell by way of tocsin ; with rapid effect ! Choiseul and Goguelat, if the whole country is not to take fire, must needs, be there Berline, be there no Berline, saddle and ride. They mount ; and this parish tocsin happily ceases. They ride slowly Eastward; towards Sainte-Menehould; still hoping the Sun-Chariot of a Berline may overtake them. Ah me, no Berline ! And near now is that Sainte-Menehould, which ex- pelled us in the morning, with its " three hundred National fusils ; " which looks, belike, not too lovingly on Captain Dan- doins and his fresh Dragoons, though only French ; — which, in a word, one dare not enter the second time, under pain of explosion ! With rather heavy heart, our Hussar Party strikes off to the left; through by-ways, through pathless hills and woods, they, avoiding Sainte-Menehould and all places which have seen them heretofore, will make direct for the distant Village of Varennes. It is probable they will have a rough evening ride. This first military post, therefore, in the long thunder-chain, has gone off with no effect ; or with worse, and your chain threatens to entangle itself ! — The Great Road, however, is got hushed again into a kind of quietude, though one of the wake- fulest. Indolent Dragoons cannot, by any Quartermaster, be kept altogether from the dramshop ; where Patriots drink, and will even treat, eager enough for news. Captains, in a state near distraction, beat the dusty highway, with a face of indif- ference; and no Sun-Chariot appears. Why lingers it? In- credible, that with eleven horses, and such yellow Couriers and 396 CARLYLE [i79i furtherances, its rate should be under the weightiest dray-rate, some three miles an hour ! Alas, one knows not whether it ever even got out of Paris ; — and yet also one knows not whether, this very moment, it is not at the Village-end ! One's heart flutters on the verge of unutterabilities. Chapter VI. — Old-Dragoon Drouet. In this manner, however, has the Day bent downwards. Wearied mortals are creeping home from their field-labor ; the village-artisan eats with relish his supper of herbs, or has strolled forth to the village-street for a sweet mouthful of air and human news. Still summer-eventide everywhere! The great Sun hangs flaming on the utmost Northwest ; for it is his longest day this year. The hill-tops rejoicing will ere long be at their ruddiest, and blush Good-night. The thrush, in green dells, on long-shadowed leafy spray, pours gushing his glad serenade, to the babble of brooks grown audibler; silence is stealing over the Earth. Your dusty Mill of Valmy, as all other mills and drudgeries, may furl its canvas, and cease swashing and circling. The swenkt grinders in this Tread- mill of an Earth have ground out another Day; and lounge there, as we say, in village-groups ; movable, or ranked on social stone-seats ;a their children, mischievous imps, sporting about their feet. Unnotable hum of sweet human gossip rises from this Village of Sainte-Menehould, as from all other vil- lages. Gossip mostly sweet, unnotable ; for the very Dra- goons are French and gallant ; nor as yet has the Paris-and- Verdun Diligence, with its leathern bag, rumbled in, to terrify the minds of men. One figure nevertheless we do note at the last door of the ; " Village : that figure in loose-flowing night-gown, of Jean Bap- ; tiste Drouet, Master of the Post here. An acrid choleric man, rather dangerous-looking ; still in the prime of life, though he has served, in his time, as a Conde Dragoon. This day, from an early hour Drouet got his choler stirred, and has been kept fretting. Hussar Goguelat in the morning saw good, by way of thrift, to bargain with his own Innkeeper, not with Drouet regular Maitre de Post, about some gig-horse for the sending a Rapport de M. Remy (in Choiseul, p. 143). Junezist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 397 back of his gig; which thing Drouet perceiving came over in red ire, menacing the Innkeeper, and would not be appeased. Wholly an unsatisfactory day. For Drouet is an acrid Patriot too, was at the Paris Feast of Pikes : and what do these Bouille soldiers mean ? Hussars, — with their gig, and a vengeance to it ! — have hardly been thrust out, when Dandoins and his fresh Dragoons arrive from Clermont, and stroll. For what pur- pose? Choleric Drouet steps out and steps in, with long- flowing night-gown; looking abroad, with that sharpness of faculty which stirred choler gives to man. On the other hand, mark Captain Dandoins on the street of that same Village; sauntering with a face of indifference, a heart eaten of black care ! For no Korff Berline makes its ap- pearance. The great Sun flames broader towards setting; one's heart flutters on the verge of dread unutterabilities. By Heaven ! here is the yellow Bodyguard Courier ; spur- ring fast, in the ruddy evening hght! Steady, O Dandoins, stand with inscrutable indifferent face; though the yellow blockhead spurs past the Post-house ; inquires to find it ; and stirs the Village, all delighted with his fine livery. — Lumber- ing along with its mountains of bandboxes, and Chaise behind, the Korfif Berline rolls in ; huge Acapulco ship with its Cock- boat, having got thus far. The eyes of the Villagers look en- lightened, as such eyes do when a coach-transit, which is an event, occurs for them. Strolling Dragoons respectfully, so fine are the yellow liveries, bring hand to helmet ; and a Lady in gypsy-hat responds with a grace peculiar to her.ft Dan- doins stands with folded arms, and what look of indifference and disdainful garrison-air a man can, while the heart is like leaping out of him. Curled disdainful mustachio ; careless glance, — which however surveys the Village-groups, and does not like them. With his eye he bespeaks the yellow Courier, Be quick, be quick ! Thick-headed Yellow cannot understand the eye ; comes up mumbling, to ask in words : seen of the Vil- lage ! Nor is Post-master Drouet unobservant all this while: but steps out and steps in, with his long-flowing nightgown, in the level sunlight ; prying into several things. When a man's faculties, at the right time, are sharpened by choler, it may load to much. That Lady in slouched gypsy-hat, though sitting b Declaration de La Cache (in Choiseul, ubi suprd). 398 CARLYLE [1 791 back in the Carriage, does she not resemble some one we have seen, some time; — at the Feast of Pikes, or elsewhere? And this Grosse-Tete in round hat and peruke, which, looking rear- ward, pokes itself out from time to time, methinks there are features in it ? Quick, Sieur Guillaume, Clerk of the Di- rcctoire, bring me a new Assignat ! Drouet scans the new Assignat; compares the Paper-money Picture with the Gross Head in round hat there : by Day and Night ! you might say the one was an attempted Engraving of the other. And this march of Troops ; this sauntering and whispering, — I see it ! Drouet Post-master of this Village, hot Patriot, Old-Dra- goon of Conde, consider, therefore, what thou wilt do. And fast, for behold the new Berline, expeditiously yoked, cracks whipcord, and rolls away! — Drouet dare not, on the spur of the instant, clutch the bridles in his own two hands ; Dandoins, with broadsword, might hew you off. Our poor Nationals, not one of them here, have three hundred fusils, but then no powder ; besides one is not sure, only morally-certain. Drou- et, as an adroit Old-Dragoon of Conde, does what is advis- ablest; privily bespeaks Clerk Guillaume, Old-Dragoon of Conde he too; privily, while Clerk Guillaume is saddling two of the fleetest horses, slips over to the Townhall to whisper a word ; then mounts with Clerk Guillaume ; and the two bound eastward in pursuit, to see what can be done. They bound eastward, in sharp trot : their moral-certainty permeating the Village, from the Townhall outwards, in busy whispers. Alas ! Captain Dandoins orders his Dragoons to mount ; but they, complaining of long fast, demand bread-and- cheese first ; — before which brief repast can be eaten, the whole Village is permeated ; not whispering now, but blustering and shrieking ! National Volunteers, in hurried muster, shriek for gunpowder ; Dragoons halt between Patriotism and Rule of the Service, between bread-and-cheese and fixed bayonets : Dandoins hands secretly his Pocket-book, with its secret de- spatches, to the rigorous Quartermaster : the very Ostlers have stable-forks and flails. The rigorous Quartermaster, half- saddled, cuts out his way with the sword's edge, amid levelled bayonets, amid Patriot vociferations, adjurations, flail-strok'es ; and rides frantic \c — few or even none following him ; the rest, so sweetly constrained, consenting to stay there. c Declaration de La Cache (in Choiseul, p. 134). June 2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 399 And thus the new Berline rolls ; and Drouet and Guillaume gallop after it, and Dandoins' Troopers or Trooper gallops af- ter them ; and Sainte-Menehould, with some leagues of the King's Highway, is in explosion ; — and your Military thunder- chain has gone off in a self-destructive manner; one may fear, with the frightfulest issues. Chapter VII.— The Night of Spurs. This comes of mysterious Escorts, and a new Berline with eleven horses : " he that has a secret should not only hide it, but hide that he has it to hide." Your first Military Escort has exploded self-destructive ; and all Military Escorts, and a sus- picious Country will now be up, explosive ; comparable not to victorious thunder. Comparable, say rather, to the first stir- ring of an Alpine Avalanche ; which, once stir it, as here at Sainte-Menehould, will spread, — all round, and on and on, as far as Stenai ; thundering with wild ruin, till Patriot Villagers, Peasantry, Military Escorts, new Berline and Royalty are down, — ^jumbling in the Abyss ! The thick shades of Night are falling. Postillions crack and whip : the Royal Berline is through Clermont, where Colonel Comte de Damas got a word whispered to it ; is safe through, towards Varennes ; rushing at the rate of double drink-money : an Unknown, " Inconnu on horseback," shrieks earnestly some hoarse whisper, not audible, into the rushing Carriage-win- dow, and vanishes, left in the nightd August Travellers pal- pitate; nevertheless overwearied Nature sinks every one of them into a kind of sleep. Alas, and Drouet and Clerk Guil- laume spur; taking side-roads, for shortness, for safety; scat- tering abroad that moral-certainty of theirs ; which flies, a bird of the air carrying it ! And your rigorous Quartermaster spurs ; awakening hoarse trumpet-tone, — as here at Clermont, calling out Dragoons gone to bed. Brave Colonel de Damas has them mounted, in part, these Clermont men ; young Cornet Rcmy dashes off with a few. But the Patriot Magistracy is out here at Cler- mont too ; National Guards shrieking for ball-cartridges ; and the Village "illuminates itself;" — deft Patriots springing out of bed ; alertly, in shirt or shift, striking a light ; sticking up d Campan, ii. 159. 400 CARLYLE [1791 each his farthing candle, or penurious oil-cruse, till all glitters and glimmers ; so deft are they ! A camisado, or shirt-tumult, everywhere: storm-bell set a-ringing; village-drum beating furious generale, as here at Clermont, under illumination ; dis- tracted Patriots pleading and menacing ! Brave young Colonel de Damas, in that uproar of distracted Patriotism, speaks some fire-sentences to what Troopers he has : " Comrades insulted at Sainte-Menehould : King and Country calling on the brave ;" then gives the fire-word, Drazv swords. Whereupon, alas, the Troopers only smite their sword-handles, driving them farther home ! " To me, whoever is for the King ! " cries Damas in despair; and gallops, he with some poor loyal Two, of the Subaltern sort, into the bosom of the Night.^ Night unexampled in the Clermontais; shortest of the year; remark-ablest of the century: Night deserving to be named of Spurs ! Cornet Remy, and those Few he dashed off with, has missed his road; is galloping for hours towards Verdun ; then, for hours, across hedged country, through roused hamlets, towards Varennes. Unlucky Cornet Remy; unluckier Colonel Damas, with whom there ride desperate only some loyal Two ! More ride not of that Clermont Escort : of other Escorts, in other Villages, not even Two may ride ; but only all curvet and prance, — impeded by storm-bell and your Village illuminating itself. And Drouet rides and Clerk Guillaume; and the Country runs, — Goguelat and Duke Choiseul are plunging through morasses, over clifTs, over stock and stone, in the shaggy woods of the Clermontais ; by tracks ; or trackless, with guides ; Hussars tumbling into pitfalls, and lying " swooned three quarters of an hour," the rest refusing to march with- out them. What an evening ride from Pont-de-Sommevelle ; what a thirty hours, since Choiseul quitted Paris, with Queen's- valet Leonard in the chaise by him! Black Care sits behind the rider. Thus go they plunging; rustle the owlet from his branchy nest; champ the sweet-scented forest-herb, queen- of-the-meadows spilling her spikenard ; and frighten the ear of Night. But hark! towards twelve o'clock, as one guesses, for the very stars are gone out : sound of the tocsin from Varennes? Checking bridle, the Hussar Officer listens: e'Procbs-verhal du Directoire de Clermont (in Choiseul, pp. 189-95). June2istl THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 401 " Some fire undoubtedly ! " — yet rides on, with double breath- lessness, to verify. Yes, gallant friends that do your utmost, it is a certain sort of fire : difficult to quench. — The Korff Berline, fairly ahead of all this riding Avalanche, reached the little paltry Village of Varennes about eleven o'clock ; hopeful, in spite of that hoarse-whispering Unknown. Do not all Towns now lie behind us; Verdun avoided, on our right? Within wind of Bouille himself, in a manner; and the darkest of mid- summer nights favoring us ! And so we halt on the hill-top at the South end of the Village ; expecting our relay ; which young Bouille, Bouille's own son, with his Escort of Hussars, was to have ready ; for in this Village is no post. Distracting to think of : neither horse nor Hussar is there ! Ah, and stout horses, a proper relay belonging to Duke Choiseul, do stand at hay, but in the Upper Village over the Bridge ; and we know not of them. Hussars likewise do wait, but drinking in the taverns. For indeed it is six hours beyond the time ; young Bouille, silly stripling, thinking the matter over for this night, has retired to bed. And so our yellow Couriers, in- experienced, must rove, groping, bungling, through a Village mostly asleep: Postilions will not, for any money, go on with the tired horses; not at least without refreshment; not they, let the Valet in round hat argue as he likes. Miserable ! " For five-and-thirty minutes " by the King's watch, the Berline is at a dead stand: Round-hat arguing with Chum-boots ; tired horses slobbering their meal-and- water; yellow Couriers groping, bungling; — young Bouille asleep, all the while, in the Upper Village, and Choiseul's fine team standing there at hay. No help for it; not with a King's ransom ; the horses deliberately slobber, Round-hat argues, Bouille sleeps. And mark now, in the thick night, do not two Horsemen, with jaded trot, come clank-clanking; and start with half-pause, if one noticed them, at sight of this dim mass of a Berline, and its dull slobbering and arguing ; then prick off faster, into the Village? It is Drouet, he and Clerk Guillaume! Still ahead, they two, of the whole riding hurlyburly ; unshot, though some brag of having chased them. Perilous is Drouet's errand also; but he is an Old-Dragoon, with his wits shaken thoroughly awake. The Village of Varennes lies dark and slumberous ; a most Vol. I.— 26 40 2 CARLYLE [1 79 1 unlevel Village, of inverse saddle-shape, as men write. It sleeps; the rushing of the River Aire singing lullaby to it. Nevertheless from the Golden Arm, Bras d'Or Tavern, across that sloping Marketplace, there still comes shine of social light; comes voice of rude drovers, or the like, who have not yet taken the stirrup-cup; Boniface Le Blanc, in white apron, serving them: cheerful to behold. To this Bras d'Or Drouet enters, alacrity looking through his eyes; he nudges Boniface, in all privacy, " Camarade, es-tu bon Patriote, Art thou a good Patriot?" — ''Si je suis!" answers Boniface. — " In that case," eagerly whispers Drouet — what whisper is needful, heard of Boniface alone.a And now see Boniface Le Blanc bustling, as he never did for the j oiliest toper. See Drouet and Guillaume, dexterous Old-Dragoons, instantly down blocking the Bridge, with a " furniture-wagon they find there," with whatever wagons, tumbrils, barrels, barrows their hands can lay hold of; — till no carriage can pass. Then swiftly, the Bridge once blocked, see them take station hard by, under Varennes Archway: joined by Le Blanc, Le Blanc's Brother, and one or two alert Patriots he has roused. Some half-dozen in all, with National muskets, they stand close, waiting under the Archway, till that same Korff Berline rumble up. It rumbles up: Altc la! lanterns flash out from under coat-skirts, bridles chuck in strong fists, two National muskets level themselves fore and aft through the two Coach-doors: " Mesdames, your Passports ? "—Alas, alas! Sieur Sausse, Procureur of the Township, Tallow-chandler also and Grocer, is there, with official grocer-politeness ; Drouet with fierce logic and ready wit : — The respected Travelling Party, be it Baroness de Korff's, or persons of still higher consequence, will per- haps please to rest itself in M. Sausse's till the dawn strike up ! O Louis; O hapless Marie- Antoinette, fated to pass thy life with such men! Phlegmatic Louis, art thou but lazy semi-animate phlegm, then, to the centre of thee? King, Cap- tain-General, Sovereign Frank ! if thy heart ever formed, since it began beating under the name of heart, any resolution at all, be it now then, or never in this world : — " Violent nocturnal individuals, and if it were persons of high consequence? And if it were the King himself? Has the King not the power, aTDeux Amis, vi. 139-78. June2ist] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 403 which all beggars have, of travelling unmolested on his own Highway ? Yes : it is the King ; and tremble ye to know it ! The King has said, in this one small matter ; and in France, or under God's Throne, is no power that shall gain- say. Not the King shall ye stop here under this your miser- able Archway; but his dead body only, and answer it to Heaven and Earth. To me, Bodyguards; Postillions, en avant!" — One fancies in that case the pale paralysis of these two Le Blanc musketeers ; the drooping of Drouet's under- jaw ; and how Procureur Sausse had melted like tallow in furnace-heat : Louis faring on ; in some few steps awaken- ing Young Bouille, awakening relays and Hussars : trium- phant entry, with cavalcading high-brandishing Escort, and Escorts, into Montmedi; and the whole course of French History different ! Alas, is was not in the poor phlegmatic man. Had it been in him, French History had never come under this Varennes Archway to decide itself. — He steps out; all step out. Procureur Sausse gives his grocer-arms to the Queen and Sister Elizabeth ; Majesty taking the two children by the hand. And thus they walk, coolly back, over the Market- place to Procureur Sausse's ; mount into his small upper story; where straightway his Majesty "demands refresh- ments." Demands refreshments, as is written ; gets bread- and-cheese with a bottle of Burgundy ; and remarks, that it is the best Burgundy he ever drank! -^ Meanwhile the Varennes Notables, and all men, official and non-official, are hastily drawing-on their breeches ; getting their fighting gear. Mortals half-dressed tumble out barrels, lay felled trees ; scouts dart off to all the four winds, — the tocsin begins clanging, " the Village illuminates itself." Very singular : how these little Villages do manage, so adroit are they, when startled in midnight alarm of war. Like little adroit municipal rattlesnakes suddenly awakened: for their storm- bell rattles and rings; their eyes glisten luminous (with tal- low-light), as in rattle-snake ire; and the Village will sting. Old-Dragoon Drouct is our engineer and generalissimo; valiant as a Ruy Diaz: — Now or never, ye Patriots, for the soldiery is coming; massacre by Austrians, by Aristocrats, wars more than civil, it all depends on you and the hour! — National Guards rank themselves, half-buttoned : mortals. 404 CARLYLE [1791 we say, still only in breeches, in under-petticoat, tumble out barrels and lumber, lay felled trees for barricades : the Vil- lage will sting. Rabid Democracy, it would seem, is not con- fined to Paris, then ? Ah no, whatsoever Courtiers might talk ; too clearly no. This of dying for one's King is grown into a dying for one's self, agai)ist the King, if need be. And so our riding and running Avalanche and Hurlyburly has reached the Abyss, Korff Berline foremost ; and may pour itself thither, and jumble: endless! For the next six hours, need we ask if there was a clattering far and wide ? Clattering and tocsining and hot tumvilt, over all the Clermontais, spread- ing through the Three-Bishoprics : Dragoon and Hussar Troops galloping on roads and no-roads ; National Guards arming and starting in the dead of night ; tocsin after tocsin transmitting the alarm. In some forty minutes, Goguelat and Choiseul, with their wearied Hussars, reach Varennes. Ah, it is no fire, then ; or a fire difficult to quench ! They leap the tree-barricades, in spite of National sergeant ; they enter the village, Choiseul instructing his Troopers how the matter really is ; who respond interjectionally, in their guttural dia- lect, " Der Konig; die Kdniginn! " and seem stanch. These now, in their stanch humor, will, for one thing, beset Procureur Sausse's house. Most beneficial : had not Drouet stormfully ordered otherwise ; and even bellowed, in his extremity, " Can- noneers, to your guns ! " — two old honeycombed Field-pieces, empty of all but cobwebs ; the rattle whereof, as the Can- noneers with assured countenance trundled them up, did never- theless abate the Hussar ardor, and produce a respectfuler ranking farther back. Jugs of wine, handed over the ranks, — for the German throat too has sensibility, — will complete the business. When Engineer Goguelat, some hour or so afterwards, steps forth, the response to him is — a hiccuping Vive la Nation! What boots it? Goguelat, Choiseul, now also Count Damas, and all the Varennes Officiality are with the King; and the King can give no order, form no opinion ; but sits there, as he has ever done, like clay on potter's wheel ; perhaps the absurdcst of all pitiable and pardonable clay-figures that now circle under the Moon. He will go on, next morning, and take the National Guard zvith him ; Sausse permitting ! Hap- less Queen : with her two children laid there on the mean June 22d] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 405 bed, old Mother Sausse kneeling to Heaven, with tears and an audible prayer, to bless them ; imperial Marie- Antoinette near kneeling to Son Sausse and Wife Sausse, amid candle- boxes and treacle-barrels, — in vain! There are Three thou- sand National Guards got in ; before long they will count Ten thousand : tocsin spreading like fire on dry heath, or far faster. Young Bouille, roused by this Varennes tocsin, has taken horse, and — fled towards his Father. Thitherward also rides, in an almost hysterically desperate manner, a certain Sieur Aubriot, Choiseul's Orderly ; swimming dark rivers, our Bridge being blocked; spurring as if the Hell-hunt were at his heels. Through the village of Dun, he galloping still on, scatters the alarm ; at Dun, brave Captain Deslons and his Escort of a Hundred saddle and ride. Deslons too gets into Varennes ; leaving his hundred outside, at the tree-barricade ; offers to cut King Louis out, if he will order it: but unfor- tunately " the work will prove hot :" whereupon King Louis has " no orders to give."& And so the tocsin clangs, and Dragoons gallop, and can do nothing, having galloped : National Guards stream in like the gathering of ravens : your exploding Thunder-chain, fall- ing Avalanche, or what else we liken it to, does play, with a vengeance, — up now as far as Stenai and Bouille himself.c Brave Bouille, son of the whirlwind, he saddles Royal-Alle- mand ; speaks fire-words, kindling heart and eyes ; distributes twenty-five gold-louis a company: — Ride, Royal-Allemand, long-famed : no Tuileries Charge and Necker-Orleans Bust- Procession ; a very King made captive, and world all to win ! — Such is the Night deserving to be named of Spurs. At six o'clock two things have happened. Lafayette's Aide-de-camp, Romceuf, riding d franc etrier, on that old Herb-merchant's route, quickened during the last stages, has got to Varennes; where the Ten thousand now furiously de- mand, with fury of panic terror, that Royalty shall forthwith return Paris-ward, that there be not infinite bloodshed. Also, on the other side, " English Tom," Choiseul's jokei, flying with that Choiseul relay, has met Bouille on the heights of Dun ; a Rapport de M. Aubriot (in Clioiscnl, pp. 150-7). h Extrait d'un Rapport de M. Deslons (in Choiseul, pp. 164-7). c Bouille, ii. 74-6. 4o6 CARLYLE [:79i the adamantine brow flushed with dark thunder; thunderous rattle of Royal-Allemand at his heels. English Tom answers as he can the brief question, How is it at Varennes? — then asks in. turn, What he, English Tom, with M. de Choiseul's horses, is to do, and whither to ride? — To the Bottomless Pool ! answers a thunder-voice ; then again speaking and spurring, orders Royal-Allemand to the gallop; and vanishes, swearing (en jiirant).d 'Tis the last of our brave Bouille. Within sight of Varennes, he having drawn bridle, calls a council of officers; finds that it is in vain. King Louis has departed, consenting : amid the clangor of universal stormbell ; amid the tramp of Ten thousand armed men, already arrived ; and say, of Sixty thousand flocking thither. Brave Deslons, even without " orders," darted at the River Aire with his Hundred ;^ swam one branch of it, could not the other ; and stood there, dripping and panting, with inflated nostril ; the Ten thousand answering him with a shout of mockery, the new Berline lumbering Paris-ward its weary inevitable way. No help, then, in Earth ; nor, in an age not of miracles, in Heaven ! That night, " Marquis de Bouille and twenty-one more of us rode over the Frontiers : the Bernardine monks at Orval in Luxemburg gave us supper and lodging."/^ With little of speech, Bouille rides ; with thoughts that do not brook speech. Northward, towards uncertainty, and the Cimmerian Night : towards West-Indian Isles, for with thin Emigrant delirium the son of the whirlwind cannot act ; towards England, to- wards premature Stoical death ; not towards France any more. Honor to the Brave ; who, be it in this quarrel or in that, is a substance and articulate-speaking piece of human Valor, not a fanfaronading hollow Spectrum and squeaking and gibbering Shadow ! One of the few Royalist Chief-actors this Bouille, of whom so much can be said. The brave Bouille too, then, vanishes from the tissue of our Story. Story and tissue, faint ineffectual Emblem of that grand Miraculous Tissue, and Living Tapestry named French Revolution, which did weave itself then in very fact, " on the loud-sounding Loom of Time " ! The old Brave drop out d Declaration du Sicur Thomas (in Choiscul, p. i8R). e Weber, ii. 386. / Aubriot, ut supra, p. 158. June 25th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 407 from it, with their strivings ; and new acrid Drouets, of new strivings and color, come in: — ^as is the manner of that weaving. Chapter VIII.— The Return. So, then, our grand RoyaHst Plot, of Flight to Metz, has executed itself. Long hovering in the background, as a dread royal ultimatum, it has rushed forward in its terrors: verily to some purpose. How many Royalist Plots and Projects, one after another, cunningly-devised, that were to explode like powder-mines and thunder-claps ; not one solitary Plot of which has issued otherwise ! Powder-mine of a Seance Royal e on the Twenty-third of June 1789, which exploded as we then said, " through the touchhole ;" which next, your wargod Broglie having reloaded it, brought a Bastille about your ears. Then came fervent Opera-Repast, with flourishing of sabres, and O Richard, O my King; which, aided by Hunger, produces Insurrection of Women, and Pallas Athene in the shape of Demoiselle Theroigne. Valor profits not ; neither has fortune smiled on fanfaronade. The Bouille Armament ends as the Broglie one has done. Man after man spends himself in this cause, only to work it quicker ruin ; it seems a cause doomed, forsaken of Earth and Heaven. On the Sixth of October gone a year. King Louis, escorted by Demoiselle Theroigne and some two hundred thousand, made a Royal Progress and Entrance into Paris, such as man had never witnessed ; we prophesied him Two more such; and accordingly another of them, after this Flight to Metz, is now coming to pass. Theroigne will not escort here ; neither does Mirabeau now " sit in one of the accompanying carriages." Mirabeau lies dead, in the Pantheon of Great Men. Theroigne lies living, in dark Austrian Prison ; having gone to Liege, professionally, and been seized there. Be- murmured now by the hoarse-flowing Danube; the light of her Patriot Supper-parties gone quite out ; so lies Theroigne : she shall speak with the Kaiser face to face, and return. And France lies — how ! Fleeting Time shears down the great and the little ; and in two years alters many things. But at all events, here, we say, is a second Ignominious Royal Procession, though much altered ; to be witnessed also 4o8 CARLYLE [1791 by its hundreds of thousands. Patience, ye Paris Patriots ; the Royal BerHne is returning. Not till Saturday: for the Royal Berline travels by slow stages; amid such loud-voiced confluent sea of National Guards, sixty thousand as they count; amid such tumult of all people. Three National-As- sembly Commissioners, famed Barnave, famed Petion, gen- erally-respectable Latour-Maubourg, have gone to meet it; of whom the two former ride in the Berline itself beside Majesty, day after day. Latour, as a mere respectability, and a man of whom all men speak well, can ride in the rear, with Dame de Tourzel and the Soubrettes. So on Saturday evening, about seven o'clock, Paris by hundreds of thousands is again drawn up: not now dancing the tricolor joy-dance of hope ; nor as yet dancing in fury- dance of hate and revenge : but in silence, with vague look of conjecture, and curiosity mostly scientific. A Saint- Antoine Placard has given notice this morning that " whosoever insults Louis shall be caned, whosoever applauds him shall be hanged." Behold then, at last, that wonderful New Berline ; encircled by blue National sea with fixed bayonets, which flows slowly, floating it on, through the silent assembled hundreds of thou- sands. Three yellow Couriers sit atop bound with ropes ; Petion, Barnave, their Majesties, with Sister Elizabeth, and the Children of France, are within. Smile of embarrassment, or cloud of dull sourness, is on the broad phlegmatic face of his Majesty ; who keeps declar- ing to the successive Official persons, what is evident, " Eh hicii, me voilci, Well, here you have me ;" and what is not evident, " I do assure you I did not mean to pass the fron- tiers ;" and so forth : speeches natural for that poor Royal Man ; which Decency would veil. Silent is her Majesty, with a look of grief and scorn; natural for that Royal Woman. Thus lumbers and creeps the ignominious Royal Procession, through many streets, amid a silent-gazing people: com- parable Mercier thinks,a to some Procession dii Roi de Ba- soche; or say, Procession of King Crispin, with his Dukes of Sutormania and royal blazonry of Cordwainery. Except in- deed that this is not comic; ah no, it is comico-tragic ; with bound Couriers, and a Doom hanging over it ; most fantastic, yet most miserably real. Miserablest Hchilc hidibrmin of a o Nouveau Paris, iii. 22. July] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 409 Pickleherring Tragedy ! It sweeps along there, in most tingor- geous pall, through many streets in the dusty summer evening ; gets itself at length wriggled out of sight; vanishing in the Tuileries Palace, — towards its doom, of slow torture, peine forte et dure. Populace, it is true, seizes the three rope-bound yellow Cou- riers ; will at least massacre them. But our august Assembly, which is sitting at this great moment, sends out Deputation of rescue ; and the whole is got huddled up. Barnave, " all dusty," is already there, in the National Hall ; making brief discreet address and report. As indeed, through the whole journey, this Barnave has been most discreet, sympathetic; and has gained the Queen's trust, whose noble instinct teaches her always who is to be trusted. Very different from heavy Petion ; who, if Campan speak truth, ate his luncheon, com- fortably filled his wine-glass, in the Royal Berline; flung out his chicken-bones past the nose of Royalty itself; and, on the King's saying, " France cannot be a Republic," answered, " No, it is not ripe yet." Barnave is henceforth a Queen's adviser, if advice could profit : and her Majesty astonishes Dame Campan by signifying almost a regard for Barnave ; and that, in a day of retribution and Royal triumph, Bar- nave shall not be executed.^ On Monday night Royalty went ; on Saturday evening it returns : so much, within one short week, has Royalty accom- plished for itself. The Pickleherring Tragedy has vanished in the Tuileries Palace, towards " pain strong and hard." Watched, fettered and humbled, as Royalty never was. Watched even in its sleeping-apartments and inmost recesses: for it has to sleep with door set ajar, blue National Argus watching, his eye fixed on the Queen's curtains ; nay, on one occasion, as the Queen cannot sleep, he offers to sit by her pillow, and converse a little \c b Campan, ii. c. 18. c Ibid. ii. 149. 41 o CARLYLE [1791 Chapter IX Sharp Shot. In regard to all which, this most pressing question arises^ What is to be done with it? Depose it! resolutely answer Robespierre and the thoroughgoing few. For, truly, with a King who runs away, and needs to be watched in his very bedroom that he may stay and govern you, what other rea- sonable thing can be done? Had Philippe d'Orleans not been a caput mortuHui! But of him, known as one defunct, no man now dreams. Depose it not ; say that it is inviolable, that it was spirited away, was enlevc; at any cost of sophistry and solecism, re-establish it ! so answer with loud vehemence all manner of Constitutional Royalists ; as all your pure Royalists do naturally likewise, with low vehemence, and rage compressed by fear, still more passionately answer. Nay Bar- nave and the two Lameths, and what will follow them, do likewise answer so. Answer, with their whole might: ter- rorstruck at the unknown Abysses on the verge of which, driven thither by themselves mainly, all now reels, ready to plunge. By mighty effort and combination, this latter course is the course fixed on ; and it shall by the strong arm, if not by the clearest logic, be made good. With the sacrifice of all their heard-earned popularity, this notable Triumvirate, says Toulon- geon, " set the Throne up again, which they had so toiled to overturn: as one might set up an overturned pyramid, on its vertex ; " to stand so long as it is held. Unhappy France; unhappy in King, Queen and Constitu- tion ; one knows not in which unhappiest ! Was the meaning of our so glorious French Revolution this, and no other. That when Shams and Delusions, long soul-killing, had become body-killing, and got the length of Bankruptcy and Inanition, a great People rose and, with one voice, said, in the Name of the Highest: Shams shall be no more? So many sorrows and bloody horrors, endured, and to be yet endured through dismal coming centuries, were they not the heavy price paid and payable for this same: Total Destruction of Shams from among men ? And now, O Barnave Triumvirate ! is it in such (/on6/c-distilled Delusion, and Sham even of a Sham, that an efifort of this kind will rest acquiescent? Messieurs of July 1 7th] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 411 the popular Triumvirate, never! — But, after all, what can poor popular Triumvirates, and fallible august Senators, do? They can, when the Truth is ail-too horrible, stick their heads ostrich-like into what sheltering Fallacy is nearest; and wait there, a posteriori. Readers who saw the Clermontais and Three-Bishopricks gallop in the Night of Spurs ; Diligences ruffling up all France into one terrific terrified Cock of India ; and the Town of Nantes in its shirt, — may fancy what an affair to settle this was. Robespierre, on the extreme Left, with per- haps Petion and lean old Goupil, for the very Triumvirate has defalcated, are shrieking hoarse ; drowned in Constitu- tional clamor. But the debate and arguing of a whole Nation ; the bellowings through all Journals, for and against ; the reverberant voice of Danton ; the Hyperion shafts of Camille, the porcupine-quills of implacable Marat : — conceive all this. Constitutionalists in a body, as we often predicted, do now recede from the Mother Society, and become Feuillans; threatening her with inanition, the rank and respectability being mostly gone. Petition after Petition, forwarded by Post, or borne in Deputation, comes praying for Judgment and Dcchcance, which is our name for Deposition ; praying, at lowest, for Reference to the Eighty-three Departments of France. Hot Marseillese Deputation comes declaring, among other things : " Our Phocean Ancestors flung a Bar of Iron into the Bay at their first landing; this Bar will float again on the Mediterranean brine before we consent to be slaves." All this for four weeks or more, while the matter still hangs doubtful ; Emigration streaming with double violence over the frontiers ;a France seething in fierce agitation of this question and prize-question: What is to be done with the fugitive Hereditary Representative? Finally, on Friday the 15th of July 1791, the National Assembly decides ; in what negatory manner we know. Where- upon the Theatres all close, the i?o;/rn(?-stones and Portable- chairs begin spouting. Municipal Placards flaming on the walls, and Proclamations published by sound of trumpet, " in- vite to repose ;" with small effect. And so, on Sunday the 17th, there shall be a thing seen, worthy of rememliering. Scroll of a Petition, drawn up by Brissots, Dantons. by Cor- a Bouillc, ii. loi. 412 CARLYLE [1791 deliers, Jacobins ; for the thing was infinitely shaken and manipulated, and many had a hand in it: such Scroll lies now visible, on the wooden framework of the Fatherland's Altar, for signature. Unworking Paris, male and female, is crowding thither, all day, to sign or to see. Our fair Roland herself the eye of History can discern there " in the morn- ing;"^ not without interest. In few weeks the fair Patriot will quit Paris; yet perhaps only to return. But, what with sorrow of balked Patriotism, what with closed theatres, and Proclamations still publishing themselves by sound of trumpet, the fervor of men's minds, this day, is great. Nay, over and above, there has fallen out an incident, of the nature of Farce-Tragedy and Riddle ; enough to stimu- late all creatures. Early in the day, a Patriot (or some say, it was a Patriotess, and indeed the truth is undiscoverable), while standing on the firm deal-board of Fatherland's Altar, feels suddenly, with indescribable torpedo-shock of amaze- ment, his bootsole pricked through from below; clutches up suddenly this electrified bootsole and foot; discerns next in- stant — the point of a gimlet or bradawl playing up, through the firm deal-board, and now hastily drawing itself back! Mystery, perhaps Treason? The wooden framework is im- petuously broken up; and behold, verily a mystery; never explicable fully to the end of the world ! Two human indi- viduals, of mean aspect, one of them with a wooden leg, lie ensconsed there, gimlet in hand : they must have come in overnight ; they have a supply of provisions, — no " barrel of gunpowder" that one can sec; they affect to be asleep; look blank enough, and give the lamest account of themselves. " Mere curiosity ; they were boring up, to get an eye-hole ; to see, perhaps ' with lubricity,' whatsoever, from that nezv point of vision, could be seen:" — little that was edifying, one would think ! But indeed what stupidest thing may not human Dulness, Pruriency, Lubricity, Chance and the Devil, choos- ing Two out of Half-a-million idle human heads, tempt them to?c Sure enough, the two human individuals with their gimlet are there. Ill-starred pair of individuals ! For the result of it all is, that Patriotism, fretting itself, in this state of nervous excitability, with hypotheses, suspicions and reports, b Madame Roland, ii. 74. c Hist. Pari. xi. 104-7. Julyiyth] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 413 keeps questioning these two distracted human individuals, and again questioning them ; claps them into the nearest Guard- house, clutches them out again; one hypothetic group snatch- ing them from another: till finally, in such extreme state of nervous excitability. Patriotism hangs them as spies of Sieur Motier; and the life and secret is choked out of them for- evermore. Forevermore, alas ! Or is a day to be looked for when these two evidently mean individuals, who are human nevertheless, will become Historical Riddles ; and, like him of the Iron Mask (also a humg^n individual, and evidently nothing more), — have their Dissertations? To us this only is certain, that they had a gimlet, provisions and a wooden leg; and have died there on the Lanterne, as the unluckiest fools might die. And so the signature goes on, in a still more excited manner. And Chaumette, for Antiquarians possess the very Paper to this houT,d — has signed himself " in a flowing saucy hand slightly leaned;" and Hebert, detestable Pere Duchesne, as if " an inked spider had dropped on the paper ;" Usher Maillard also has signed, and many Crosses, which cannot write. And Paris, through its thousand avenues, is welling to the Champ-de-Mars and from it, in the utmost excitability of humor; central Fatherland's Altar quite heaped with sign- ing Patriots and Patriotesses ; the Thirty benches and whole internal Space crowded with onlookers, with comers and goers ; one regurgitating whirlpool of men and women in their Sun- day clothes. All which a Constitutional Sieur Motier sees ; and Bailly, looking into it with his long visage made still longer. Auguring no good ; perhaps Dcchcance and Deposi- tion after all ! Stop it, ye Constitutional Patriots ; fire itself is quenchable, — yet only quenchable at -first. Stop it, truly: but how stop it? Have not the first free People of the Universe a right to petition? — Happily, if also unhappily, here is one proof of riot: these two human indi- viduals hanged at the Lanterne. Proof, O treacherous Sieur Motier? Were they not two human individuals sent thither by thee to be hanged ; to be a pretext for lliy bloody Drapcau Rouge? This question shall many a Patriot, one day, ask; and answer affirmatively, strong in Preternatural Suspicion. Enough, towards half-past seven in the evening, the mere d Ibid. xi. 113, &c. 414 CARLYLE [1791 natural eye can behold this thing : Sieur Motier, with Munici- pals in scarf, with blue National Patrollotism, rank after rank, to the clang of drums; wending resolutely to the Champ-de- Mars; Mayor Bailly, with elongated visage, bearing, as in sad duty bound, the Drapeau Rouge. Howl of angry derision rises in treble and bass from a hundred thousand throats, at the sight of Martial Law ; which nevertheless, waving its Red sanguinary Flag, advances there, from the Gros-Caillou Entrance; advances, drumming and waving, towards Altar of Fatherland. Amid still wilder howls, with objurgation, obtestation ; with flights of pebbles and mud, saxa et faces; with crackle of a pistol-shot ; — finally with volley-fire of Patrol- lotism; levelled muskets; roll of volley on volley! Precisely after one year and three days, our sublime Federation Field is wetted, in this manner, with French blood. Some " Twelve unfortunately shot," reports Bailly, count- ing by units ; but Patriotism counts by tens and even by hun- dreds. Not to be forgotten, nor forgiven ! Patriotism flies, shrieking, execrating. Camille ceases journalizing, this day; great Danton with Camille and Freron have taken wing, for their life ; Marat burrows deep in the Earth, and is silent. Once more Patrollotism has triumphed; one other time; but it is the last. This was the Royal Flight to Varennes. Thus was the Throne overturned thereby; but thus also was it victoriously set up again — on its vertex; and will stand while it can be held. lliii 3 1158 00 ll«f UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles ThU book is DUE on Che last da.c stamped below. JAN 6 197\ ££J 5 1981 otf 2 5 1981 IRTQCMni JUL 14 1987 Form L9-Series 444 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES LIBRARY , ^ ililli 1 1 III 3 1158 00094 97; UC SOUTHERfJ REGIONAL LIBRARY FAC AA 000 250 095 7 •=••* .-,?',