This constitution had many good points, was not ill adapted to the needs and aspirations of France in the year 1795, and it was hailed with delight by the public. This at first seemed a good symptom. But the Convention soon discovered that this delight was founded not so much on the excellence of the constitution, as on the fact that putting it into force would enable France to get rid of the Convention, of the men of the Revolution. This was a sobering thought.

After some consideration of this difficult point, the Convention decided, about the end of August, on a drastic step. To prevent the country from excluding the men of the Convention from the Council of Five Hundred, it enacted that two-thirds of the members of the new body must be taken from the old; this was the famous decree of the two-thirds, or decree of Fructidor. Now there was something to be said for this decree. It was, {236} of course, largely prompted by the selfish motive of men who, having power, wished to retain it. But it could be urged that since the fall of Robespierre the Convention had steered a difficult course with some ability and moderation, and had evolved a reasonable constitution for France. Was it not therefore necessary to safeguard that constitution by preventing the electors from placing its execution in the hands of a totally untried body of men?

Whatever there might be to say in favour of the decrees of Fructidor, they provoked an explosion of disgust and disappointment on the part of the public. The sections of Paris protested loudly, sent petitions to the Convention asking for the withdrawal of the decrees, and, getting no satisfaction, took up a threatening attitude. The Convention had weathered worse-looking storms, however; it held on its course and appointed the 12th of October for the elections. The sections, led by the section Lepeletier, thereupon organized resistance.

On the 4th of October, 12th of Vendemiaire, the sections of Paris called out their national guard. The Convention replied by ordering General Menou, in command of the regular troops in the city, to restore order. Menou {237} had few troops, and was weak. He failed; and that night the Convention suspended him, and, as in Thermidor, gave Barras supreme command. Barras acted promptly. He called to his help every regular army officer in Paris at that moment, among others a young Corsican brigadier, Buonaparte by name, and assigned troops and a post to each. He hastily despatched another young officer, Murat, with his hussars, to bring some field pieces into the city; and so passed the night.

On the next day the crisis came to a head. The national guards, between 20,000 and 30,000 strong, began their march on the Convention. They were firmly met at various points by the Government troops. General Buonaparte caught the insurgents in the rue St. Honore at just a nice range for his guns, promptly poured grape in, and completely dispersed them.

Once more the Convention had put down insurrection, and once more it showed moderation in its victory. It only allowed two executions to take place, but held Paris down firmly with regular troops. Buonaparte, whom Barras already knew favourably, had made so strong an impression and had rendered such good service, that he was appointed second in {238} command, and not long after got Barras' reversion and became general-in-chief of the army of the Interior.

With this last vigorous stroke the Convention closed its extraordinary career,—a career that began with the monarchy, passed through the reign of terror, and finished in the Directoire.



{239}

CHAPTER XVI

THE DIRECTOIRE

With the Directoire the Revolution enters its last phase, and with that phase all readers of history connect certain well-marked external characteristics, extravagance of dress, of manners, of living; venality and immorality unblushing and unrestrained. The period of the Directoire is that during which the political men of the Revolution, with no principles left to guide them, gradually rot away; while the men of the sword become more and more their support, and finally oust them from power.

The Councils, apart from the ex-members of the Convention, were found to be far less royalist than had been expected. The farming class, which had had great influence in the elections, had gained much from the Revolution; the farmers had got rid of the feudal burdens; they had acquired land; they had profited from free transit. Anxious to retain what they had won, they elected men of {240} moderate views rather than reactionaries. The voice of these new members could not, however, influence the choice of the Directors, who were all taken from the ex-conventionnels. They were Barras, Rewbell, Carnot, Larevelliere and Letourneur. Of these Letourneur and Carnot were ready to listen to the wishes of the electorate, and to join hands with the new party of moderates in a constructive policy. The other three however took their stand firmly on the maintenance of the settlement effected by the Convention, and on deriving all the personal advantage they could from power. Rewbell began to accumulate a vast fortune, and Barras to squander and luxuriate.

The officials appointed by the Directors were as needy and rapacious as their chiefs. Everything could be had for money. England and the United States were offered treaties on the basis of first purchasing the good will of ministers for Foreign Affairs or Directors. In the gilded halls of the Luxembourg, Barras, surrounded by a raffish court, dispensed the honours and the spoils of the new regime. Women in astounding and wilfully indecent dresses gravitated about him and his entourage, women representing all the strata heaved upwards by the Revolution, with here {241} and there a surviving aristocrat, like the widow of Beauharnais, needy, and turning to the new sun to relieve her distress. Among them morality was at the lowest ebb. For the old sacrament of marriage had been virtually demolished by law; civil marriage and divorce had been introduced, and in the governing classes, so much affected in family life and fortune by the reign of terror, the step between civil marriage and what was no marriage at all soon appeared a distinction without much difference. There seemed only one practical rule for life, to find the means of subsistence, and to have as good a time as possible.

The external situation which the new Government had to face required energetic measures. There had been great hopes after the victories of 1794, that the year 1795 would see the French armies pressing into the valley of the Danube and bringing the Austrian monarchy to terms. But the campaign of 1795 went to pieces. The generals were nearly as venal as the politicians, and Pichegru was successfully tampered with. He failed to support Jourdan; he made false movements; and as a result the French armies at the close of the summer were no further than the Rhine.

{242} Preparations were made by the Directoire to retrieve this comparative failure; the campaign of 1796 was to see a strong offensive against the Austrians to the north and to the south of the Alps. Jourdan and Moreau, the latter displacing Pichegru, were once more to attempt to penetrate towards Vienna by the valley of the Danube. At the same time a smaller army was to invade Italy and, from the valley of the Po, perhaps lend a helping hand to the armies in Germany. Buonaparte was selected for this last command.

Buonaparte owed his new appointment to a combination of reasons. He had for some time past, knowing the ground, placed plans for the invasion of Italy before the Government. These plans gave promise of success, and Carnot was ready to give their author a chance of carrying them into execution. Alongside of this was the strong personal impression made by Buonaparte; his capacity was unmistakable. And last of all came the element of romance,—he had fallen in love with Mme. de Beauharnais, protegee of Barras,—and Barras worked for the appointment. Early in March Napoleone Buonaparte and Josephine de Beauharnais were married; before the end of the month {243} the young general had reached his headquarters at Nice.

In the middle of April news reached Paris of a series of brilliant engagements in which the army of Italy had defeated the Austrians and Sardinians. But immediately afterwards the Directoire was faced by the unpleasant fact that their new general, disregarding his instructions, had concluded an armistice with Sardinia. Already in less than a month, Bonaparte, as he now called himself, had shown that he was a great general, and moreover a politician who might become a danger to the Directoire itself. From that moment a veiled struggle began between the two, the Directoire attempting to reduce the power and influence of its general, Bonaparte constantly appealing from the Directoire to the public by rhetorical accounts of his victories and proceedings.

While Bonaparte was invading Lombardy and attacking the great Austrian fortress of Mantua, the Directoire had to deal with conspiracy in Paris. Conspiracy was a striking feature of the period that followed the fall of Robespierre; in fact, for the ten years that follow it may be said that all internal politics revolve about conspiracies. One of the most {244} noteworthy was the one that came to a head in the spring of 1796, under the lead of Babeuf.

Babeuf was a revolutionist of extreme views, but views rather social than political. His experience before the Revolution had been that of a surveyor and land agent, and in this business he had apparently gone below the surface and had thought over that great nexus of social, political, and economic questions that centre on that of the proprietorship of the soil. The Revolution turned him into a collectivist, and with the Directoire in power, and a middle class reaction in full swing, Babeuf began to be an influence. The Revolution had so far produced popular leaders, but not popular leaders who were of the people, and whose policy was for the people. Mirabeau and Danton looked to the people, but only as opportunist statesmen. Hebert had imitated the people, but for the sake of his own advancement. Robespierre, more honestly, had attempted to be the prophet of the people, but with him democracy was only the sickly residue of Rousseau's Contrat Social, and when it came to measures, to social legislation, he proved only a narrow bourgeois and lawyer. And so it had been all the way through; the {245} people, the great national battering-ram that Danton had guided, remained a mass without expression. The people had never had leaders of their own, had never had a policy save for their demand for a vote and for the blood of their oppressors. And now here was a man of the people who had a popular policy, who put his finger on the question that lay even deeper than that of privilege, that of proprietorship.

Babeuf's doctrine was collectivist. Nature has given every man an equal right to enjoy her benefits; it is the business of society to maintain this equality; Nature imposes the obligation of labour, but both labour and enjoyment must be in common; monopolizing benefits of land or industry is a crime; there should be neither rich men nor poor; nor should there be individual proprietorship of land,—the earth is no man's property.

These doctrines were fervently accepted by a small group of devoted followers; they were widely acquiesced in by Jacobin malcontents seeking a convenient arm against the Government. Clubs were formed, the Cercle des Egaux, the Club du Pantheon; propaganda was carried on; conspiracy was evolved. Wholesale efforts were made to gain over the police and some troops. Finally the {246} Directoire got wind of the proceedings, and by prompt measures broke up the conspiracy and captured its leaders. Babeuf, arrested on the 10th of May, was sentenced to death a year later by a special court, and executed.

On the 19th of May the Directoire endorsed Bonaparte's action by signing a favourable peace with Sardinia; then taking advantage of his further successes at Lonato and Castiglione, it half bullied, half bribed the feeble Government of Spain into a treaty of alliance offensive and defensive, the treaty of San Ildefonso, signed on the 19th of August. This placed a redoubtable naval force in line against England, with the immediate result that she withdrew her fleet from the Mediterranean where it had been considerably impeding the operations of the French generals along the Italian seaboard. Before the close of the year the Directoire pushed a step further, and Hoche made an attempt, frustrated by bad weather, to disembark in Ireland, which was ready to revolt against England. In February 1797, however, Admiral Jervis crushed the Spanish fleet off Cape St. Vincent, restoring by this stroke England's commanding position at sea.

In Germany matters had not gone well with {247} the Republic. The young Archduke Charles, massing cleverly against Jourdan, drove him back to the Rhine before Moreau could effect his junction. Moreau had nothing left but retreat. This success enabled the Austrian Government to reinforce its troops in the Tyrol, whence its generals made repeated efforts to drive Bonaparte from the siege of Mantua. In September he won a considerable victory over the Austrians at Bassano; in November at Arcola; in January at Rivoli. Finally in February Mantua surrendered; Bonaparte in less than twelve months had disposed of five Austrian armies and captured the stronghold of the Hapsburgs in Italy.

Preparations were now made for a new move. The Directoire withdrew Bernadotte with a strong division from Germany to strengthen Bonaparte, and raised his army to 70,000 men. He advanced through Friuli and the Julian Alps, outflanking the Archduke Charles, who attempted to bar his way, with detached corps under Joubert and Massena. Bonaparte was irresistible. He forced his way to within a short distance of Vienna, and finally at Leoben, on the 18th of April, Austria accepted peace preliminaries. She agreed to {248} cede the Netherlands and Lombardy, in return for which she was to receive certain compensations.

Bonaparte was now negotiator as well as general. For the Directoire was in great danger; it had come face to face with a situation in which it required all the support its general could give, and in return conceded to him a corresponding increase of powers. In March and April the first election for the renewal of the Councils was held, and out of 216 outgoing ex-conventionnels who appealed to the electorate, 205 were defeated at the polls. A more unanimous pronouncement of public opinion was hardly possible.

But the Directors were not capable of accepting the verdict of the country; power was theirs, and they were resolved it should remain theirs. In the Councils an extreme party led by Boissy d'Anglas, Pichegru and Camille Jordan, embarked on a policy of turning out the Directors and repealing all the revolutionary legislation, especially that directed against the emigres and the Church. They formed the Club de Clichy. In the centre of the house opinions were more moderate,—moderate progressive, and moderate Jacobin; in the latter party, Sieyes, Talleyrand, Benjamin Constant, {249} and as a social and literary influence, the daughter of Necker, Mme. de Stael.

The first step in the struggle was marked by the election of Barthelemy, the negotiator of the treaty of Bale and a moderate, to the Directoire instead of Letourneur, who retired by rotation. Long debates followed on the emigres and the priests, and their course led to an attack by the Councils, supported by Carnot and Barthelemy, on the Ministry. Some changes were made, and it was at this moment that Talleyrand secured the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs.

The Five Hundred now became interested in some rather obscure negotiations that Bonaparte was conducting in Italy with a view to converting the peace preliminaries of Leoben into a definite treaty. No sooner had he disposed of Austria than he had treacherously turned on Venice and seized the city. He was now juggling with this and the other French acquisitions in Italy in rather dubious fashion, and the orators of the opposition fastened on this as a text. It was just at this moment that Barras turned to his old protege and asked for his help. Bonaparte's sword leapt from the scabbard instantly. He issued a proclamation to his army denouncing the factious opposition {250} of the Clichiens; and he sent Augereau, his grenadier general, to Barras' assistance. The result was the revolution of Fructidor.

Late on the 3rd of September, Barras, Rewbell and Larevelliere, announced the discovery of a great royalist conspiracy. Barthelemy was arrested; Carnot just succeeded in escaping. Next morning Augereau with 2,000 men surrounded the assembly, arrested Pichegru and several leading members, and prevented the other members from meeting. Meanwhile small groups of supporters of Barras from the two Councils came together and proceeded to transact business. On the 5th, the 19th of Fructidor, decrees were passed by the usurping bodies; they provided for the deportation of Carnot, Barthelemy, Pichegru and others; they arbitrarily annulled a number of elections; they ordered all returned emigres to leave France; they repealed a recent law in favour of liberty of worship, and they placed the press under strict Government control. On the next day two new Directors were chosen from the successful faction, Merlin de Douai and Francois de Neufchateau.

The Fructidorians now controlled the situation, led by Tallien, Chenier, Jourdan in the Councils. Many officials were removed and {251} replaced by their adherents. Priests were severely repressed, thousands being imprisoned. Military tribunals were formed to deal with emigres, and, in the course of the next two years, sent nearly 200 to the firing party.

Six weeks after Fructidor, on the 17th of October, the long struggle between France and Austria was concluded by the treaty of Campo Formio, signed by Bonaparte and Cobenzl. Austria ceded the Netherlands to France; her Lombard province was incorporated in the newly formed Cisalpine Republic, which she recognised; all the left bank of the Rhine from Bale was ceded to France; Austria took Venice; and a congress was to meet at Rastatt to consider territorial readjustments within the Empire.

After Fructidor and Campo Formio matters proceeded more quietly for awhile, the close of the year being marked by only two incidents that need be recorded here, one the departure of Sieyes as ambassador to Berlin, the other the triumphant return of Bonaparte from Italy, and the ovations which the Parisian public gave him. But meanwhile, even with the Councils packed, the Directors were once more in difficulties, for the financial situation was {252} getting worse and worse, and the venality, extravagance and incapacity of the Government seemed likely to result in a general bankruptcy. Already 145,000,000,000,000 of assignats had been issued. Gold was difficult to procure, a quotation for a louis in 1797 being three thousand and eighty francs in paper. A new form of assignat had been tried, but without much success. The expenses of the war were enormous, an army of over 1,000,000 men having doubled the annual expenses of the State. Had not Bonaparte systematically bled Italy of money and treasure the Directoire could not have conducted business so long. As it was, it could go on no longer. The new taxes, on property and income, had not become effective, largely because collection was devolved on the communes. And so, a few days after the revolution of Fructidor, a partial bankruptcy was declared; interest payments were suspended on two-thirds of the debt.

In the following spring, March-April 1798, the elections once more proved disastrous to the Directors. They really had few supporters beyond those who held office under them, or who hoped for their turn to come to hold office. Over 400 deputies were to be chosen, and opinion was still so hostile that {253} the only chance of the Directors was in illegal action. They tampered with the elections; and, finding this insufficient to accomplish their object, succeeded by another stroke of violence in getting a decree, on the 4th of May, 22d of Floreal, excluding a number of the newly elected deputies. All this proved in vain. The temper of the Councils was solidly hostile, and now the hostility came as much from the Jacobin as from any other part of the house.

Partly from weakness, partly to create a diversion, the Directoire was now drifting into a new war. In February, owing to French intrigues, a riot took place at Rome, which resulted in a republic being proclaimed and the Pope being driven from the city. Further north the same process was repeated. French troops occupied Bern, and under their influence an Helvetic republic came into existence. Meanwhile, the war with England continued with increased vigour; a great stroke was aimed at England's colonial empire of the East, Bonaparte sailing from Toulon for Egypt on the 19th of May. On the 12th of June he seized Malta; on the 21st of July he routed the Mamelukes in the battle of the Pyramids; and on the 1st of August his fleet was destroyed at its anchorage, near the mouth {254} of the Nile, by Admiral Nelson. The best army and the best general of the Directoire were cut off in Egypt.

Meanwhile Nelson, returning to Italy to refit his ships, decided the court of Naples to join in the war against France, and determined the march of Ferdinand and his army against Rome, which city he occupied on the 29th of November. Championnet, commander of the French forces in southern Italy, brought one more flash of triumph to his country's arms; though heavily outnumbered, he drove Ferdinand out of Rome, followed him to Naples, and took the city by storm after desperate street fighting at the end of December.

At Naples, as elsewhere, France set up a vassal state, the Parthenopean Republic, that lived but few weeks and ended in tragedy. For early in the year 1799, Austria and Russia placed an army in the field in northern Italy, the war with Austria beginning in March. Its first events took place in Germany, where Jourdan, for the fourth time attempting to force his way through the valley of the Danube, once more met with failure. The Archduke Charles fought him at Stockach, and there defeated him. This defeat gave the northern command to Massena and sent Jourdan {255} back to politics. When, some years later, the victor of Fleurus was again entrusted with the command of large armies, it was only to lead them to failure at Talavera, and to disaster at Vittoria.

Just as the war with Austria broke out again, the yearly elections for the Councils were being held. The war brought about a recurrence of revolutionary fever, which resulted in great Jacobin successes at the polls. But the new deputies, like the old, were hostile to the discredited Directoire. France wanted some stronger, abler, more honest, more dignified executive than she had; she would no longer tolerate that a gang of shady politicians should fatten in an office they did nothing to make effective. And as the war cloud grew blacker and the national finances more exhausted, the Jacobins themselves undertook to reform the Republic. The first step was to get a strong foothold in the enemy's camp. This was effected by electing Sieyes to fill the vacancy caused by the retirement of Rewbell from the Directoire,—Sieyes, who was known for his hostility to the existing system, whose reputation for solidity and political integrity was wide, whose capacity as a constitutionalist and reformer was extraordinarily overrated.

{256} With Sieyes on the Directoire there comes into existence an ill-defined, vague conspiracy, all the more dangerous in that it was far more a general push of a great number of men towards a new set of conditions, than a cut-and-dried plot involving precise action and precise results at a given moment. In this new set of conditions Sieyes, and those who thought with him, recognised one fact as inevitable, the fact Robespierre had so early foreseen and so constantly dreaded. The influence of the army must be brought in; and the influence of the army meant the influence of one of the generals. And as Sieyes and his friends looked about for a general to suit their purpose, they found it difficult to pick their man. Bonaparte had long been cut off in Egypt by the English fleet, and news of his army only reached Paris after long delays and at long intervals. Jourdan had almost lost his prestige by his continued ill success, and was in any case indisposed to act with Sieyes. In Italy all the generals were doing badly.

The Russian field marshal Suvaroff, with an Austro-Russian army, was sweeping everything before him. On the 27th of April he defeated Moreau at Cassano; he then occupied Milan, and drove the French south into Genoa. {257} At this moment Macdonald, who had succeeded Championnet at Naples, was marching northwards to join Moreau. Suvaroff got between them and, after three days' hard fighting, from the 17th to the 19th of June, inflicted a second severe defeat on the French, at La Trebbia. These reverses shattered the whole French domination of Italy; their armies were defeated, their vassal republics sank, that of Naples under horrible conditions of royalist reprisal and massacre.

The Directoire suffered heavily in prestige by the events of a war which it had so lightly provoked and was so incompetent to conduct. In June the Councils made a further successful attack on the Executive and succeeded, in quick succession, in forcing out three of the Directors, Treilhard, Larevelliere, and Merlin. For them were substituted Gohier, who was colourless; Moulin, who was stupid, and Ducos, who was pliable. Of the Thermidorians Barras alone remained, and Barras, after five years of uninterrupted power and luxury, was used up as a man of action; he was quite ready to come to reasonable terms with Sieyes, or, if matters should turn that way, with the Comte de Provence, whose agents were in touch with him.

{258} Sieyes who owed his position in great part to the support of the Jacobins in the Council of Five Hundred, now found them an obstacle. The defeats of the armies were making them unruly. They had formed a club, meeting in the Manege, that threatened to develop all the characteristics of the old Jacobin Club, and that caused widespread alarm. The Ancients ordered the closing of the Manege. But the Jacobins, led by Jourdan, Bernadotte, minister of war, and others, continued their meetings in new quarters. They began to clamour for a new committee of public safety.

Sieyes now selected Joubert to retrieve the situation. This young general had been one of Bonaparte's most brilliant divisional commanders. He had a strong following in the army, was a staunch republican, and was possibly a general of the first order. He was sent for, was told to assume command in Italy, and was given every battalion that could possibly be scraped together. With these he was to win a battle decisive not only of the fate of Italy but of that of the Republic and of the Directoire.

Joubert left Paris on the 16th of July. A month later, having concentrated all that was left of the Italian armies together with his {259} reinforcements at Genoa, he marched north. At Novi, half way to the Po, Suvaroff barred his advance. A great battle was fought; the French were heavily defeated; and Joubert was killed. One week later, just as the disastrous news of Novi was reaching Paris, General Bonaparte with a few officers of his staff embarked at Alexandria, and risking the English men of war, set sail for France.

Bonaparte now becomes the central figure on the historical stage, and the events that follow belong to his history more than to that of the Revolution. Here all that remains to be done is to indicate the nature of the change that now took place, his connection with the schemes of Sieyes for ridding France of the Directoire and placing something more effective in its stead.

While Bonaparte was sailing the Mediterranean,—seven long weeks from Alexandria to Frejus,—the disgust and weariness of France increased. Jourdan and Bernadotte, in a blundering way, attempted to wrest power from the Directors, but proved unequal in prestige and ability to the task;—a more powerful and more subtle political craftsman was needed. Then in the gloom of the public {260} despondence three sudden flashes electrified the air, flash on flash. Massena, with the last army of the Republic, turning sharply right and left, beat the Austrians, destroyed Suvaroff in the mountains of Switzerland about Zurich. Before the excitement had subsided, came a despatch from the depths of the Mediterranean, penned with Ossianic exaggeration by the greatest of political romanticists, in which was announced the destruction of a turbaned army of Turks at Aboukir by the irresistible demi-brigades of the old army of Italy. And then, suddenly, people ran out into the streets to be told that the man himself was in France; Bonaparte had landed at Frejus.

Rarely has a country turned to an individual as France turned to Bonaparte at that moment. And he, playing with cool mastery and well-contained judgment on the political instrument fate had placed in his hands, announced himself as the man of peace, of reform, of strong civil government, of republican virtue. It was one long ovation from Frejus to Paris.

At Paris Bonaparte judged, and judged rightly, that the pear, as he crudely put it, was ripe. All parties came to him, and Sieyes came {261} to him. The author of that epoch-making pamphlet Qu'est-ce que le Tiers Etat?, and the greatest soldier produced by the Revolution, put their heads together to bring the Revolution to an end.

Sieyes and Bonaparte effected their purpose on the 9th and 10th of November, the 18th and 19th of Brumaire. The method they adopted was merely a slight development of that used by Barras and Augereau at the Revolution of Fructidor two years earlier. Some of the Directors were put under constraint; others supported the conspiracy. But the Council of Five Hundred resisted strenuously, and it was only after scenes of great violence that it succumbed. It was only at the tap of the army drums and at the flash of serried bayonets, that the last assembly of the Revolution abandoned its post. The man of the sword, so long foreseen and dreaded by Robespierre, had come into his own, and the Republic had made way for the Consulate.



{262}

CHAPTER XVII

ART AND LITERATURE

French literature has great names before 1789, and after 1815. Voltaire, Diderot, Rousseau, to mention only the giants, wrote before the Revolution; and, Chateaubriand, Thiers, Hugo, Musset, Beranger, Courrier, after Napoleon had fallen. In between there is little or nothing. The period is like a desolate site devastated by flame, stained with blood, with only here and there a timid flower lending a little colour, a touch of grace, a gleam of beauty, to a scene of destruction and violence.

No verse or prose of the period gives the note of the Revolution on its idealistic side more strikingly than Fabre d'Eglantine's nomenclature of the months for the Revolutionary Calendar. Although slightly tinged with pedantism and preciosity, its freshness, its grace, its inspiration and sincerity, give it a flavour almost of primitive art. It remains one of the few notable prose poems of French literature.

{263} VENDEMIAIRE, premier mois de l'annee republicaine et de l'automne; prend son etymologie des vendanges qui ont lieu pendant ce mois.

BRUMAIRE, deuxieme mois de l'annee republicaine; il tire son nom des brouillards et des brumes basses qui font en quelque sorte la transsudation de la nature pendant ce mois.

FRIMAIRE, troisieme mois de l'annee republicaine, ainsi nomme du froid tantot sec, tantot humide, qui se fait sentir pendant ce mois.

NIVOSE, quatrieme mois de l'annee republicaine, et le premier de l'hiver; il prend son etymologie de la neige qui blanchit la terre pendant ce mois.

PLUVIOSE, cinquieme mois de l'annee republicaine; il tire son nom des pluies qui tombent generalement avec plus d'abondance pendant ce mois.

VENTOSE, sixieme mois de l'annee republicaine, ainsi nomme des giboulees qui ont lieu, et du vent qui vient secher la terre pendant ce mois.

{264}

GERMINAL, septieme mois de l'annee republicaine, et le premier du printemps; il prend son etymologie de la fermentation et du developpement de la seve pendant ce mois.

FLOREAL, huitieme mois de l'annee republicaine, ainsi nomme de l'epanouissement des fleurs que la terre produit pendant ce mois.

PRAIRIAL, neuvieme mois de l'annee republicaine; il tire son nom de la fecondite riante et de la recolte des prairies pendant ce mois.

MESSIDOR, dixieme mois de l'annee republicaine, et le premier de l'ete; il prend son etymologie de l'aspect des epis ondoyans et des moissons dorees qui couvrent les champs pendant ce mois.

THERMIDOR, onzieme mois de l'annee republicaine, ainsi nomme de la chaleur tout-a-la-fois solaire et terrestre qui embrase l'air pendant ce mois.

FRUCTIDOR, douzieme mois de l'annee republicaine; il tire son nom des fruits que le soleil dore et murit pendant ce mois.[1]

{265} Fabre d'Eglantine was not the only member of the assemblies of the Revolution to deserve a place in literature. The great orators, Mirabeau, Danton, Vergniaud, Robespierre, and others, rose to a high pitch of rhetoric in their speeches. Famous apostrophes which they uttered are still current phrases: Nous sommes ici par le volonte du peuple, et nous n'ont sortiront que par le force des bayonettes.—Silence aux trente voix!—De l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace! Some extracts from the orators have been given in preceding chapters, and the pamphleteers have also been drawn from; the latter, even in the pages of Desmoulins, Loustallot or Mallet, rarely attain the level of the best literature.

{266} The following passage from Desmoulins shows the unfortunate journalist at his best, when, backed by Danton, in December 1793, he raised the standard of mercy against terrorism and the infamous sans-culottism of Hebert.

O mes chers concitoyens! Serions nous donc arrives a ce point que de nous prosterner devant de telles divinites? Non, la Liberte, cette Liberte descendue du ciel, ce n'est point une nymphe de l'Opera, ce n'est point un bonnet rouge, une chemise sale, ou des haillons. La Liberte, c'est le bonheur, c'est la raison, c'est l'egalite, c'est la justice.... Voulez vous que je la reconnaisse, que je tombe a ses pieds, que je verse tout mon sang pour elle? ouvrez les prisons....

Few poets marked the epoch, and of their works the most famous are battle songs. Rouget de Lisle, on the declaration of war against Austria in April 1792, composed the music and words of the best known song in the world, the famous Marseillaise. One of its strophes follows:

Amour sacre de la patrie, Conduis, soutiens, nos bras vengeurs. Liberte, liberte cherie, Combats avec tes defenseurs. {267} Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire Accoure a tes males accens, Que tes enemis expirans Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire. Aux armes, citoyens! Formez vos bataillons! Marchez; qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons.

A better song poem than the Marseillaise, though not quite so famous, was written by Joseph Chenier, the Chant du depart; it was a great favourite with Bonaparte.

La victoire, en chantant, nous ouvre la barriere, La liberte guide nos pas, Et du nord au midi, la trompette guerriere A sonne l'heure des combats; Tremblez enemis de la France, Rois ivres de sang et d'orgueil, Le peuple souverain s'avance; Tyrans, descendez au cercueil! La Republique nous appelle, Sachons vaincre ou sachons perir, Un Francais doit vivre pour elle, Pour elle, un Francais doit mourir!

With the Cheniers we come to the one considerable poet of the revolutionary period, Andre, brother of the author of the Chant du depart. He was sent to the guillotine on the {268} 7th of Thermidor at the age of 31, having published only two poems, one on the Oath of the tennis court in 1789, and the other on the festival organized for the Swiss of Chateauvieux' mutinous regiment by Collot d'Herbois in the spring of 1792. The opening lines of his first poem strike the note of a new era:

Reprends ta robe d'or, ceins ton riche bandeau, Jeune et divine poesie, Quoique ces temps d'orage eclipsent ton flambeau. * * * * * * La liberte du genie et de l'art T'ouvre tous les tresors. Ta grace auguste et fiere De nature et d'eternite Fleurit. Tes pas sont grands. Ton front ceint de lumiere Touche les cieux.~.~.~.

And foreseeing, as a poet should, the tragedies to come, he pleads for guidance to avert the resulting woes from the people:

Ah, ne le laissez pas, dans la sanglante rage D'un ressentiment inhumain, Souiller sa cause et votre ouvrage. Ah! ne le laissez pas sans conseil et sans frein, Armant, pour soutenir ses droits si legitimes, La torche incendiaire et le fer assassin, Venger la raison par des crimes.

{269} Always among the moderates, Chenier was revolted by the apotheosis accorded by Collot and the democratic party to the Swiss of the regiment of Chateauvieux. On the 15th of April 1792 he published some stinging verses on the subject, that possibly cost him his life.

Salut, divin triomphe! entre dans nos murailles; Rend nous ces guerriers illustres Par le sang de Desille et par les funerailles De tant de Francais massacres.~.~.~. Un seul jour peut atteindre a tant de renommee, Et ce beau jour luira bientot: C'est quand tu conduiras Jourdan a notre armee, Et Lafayette a l'echafaud.~.~.~. Invoque en leur galere, ornement des etoiles, Les Suisses de Collot d'Herbois.~.~.~. Ces heros que jadis sur les bancs des galeres Assit un arret outrageant, Et qui n'ont egorge que tres peu de nos freres Et vole que tres peu d'argent!

Among the verses published after Chenier's death the most striking are those that have to deal with the period of the reign of terror; of these a few lines will be quoted. The poet raised his voice while all Paris howled against Charlotte Corday, the assassin of Marat:

{270}

Non, non, je ne veux point honorer en silence, Toi qui crus par ta mort resusciter la France Et devouas tes jours a punir des forfaits. Le glaive arma ton bras, fille grande et sublime, Pour faire honte aux dieux, pour reparer leur crime, Quand d'un homme a ce monstre ils donnerent les traits.

Mais la France a la hache abandonne ta tete, C'est au monstre egorge qu'on prepare une fete. Parmi ses compagnons, tous dignes de son sort, Oh! quel noble dedain fit sourire ta bouche, Quand un brigand, vengeur de ce brigand farouche, Crut te faire palir aux menaces de mort!

C'est lui qui dut palir, et tes juges sinistres, Et notre affreux senat, et ses affreux ministres, Quand, a leur tribunal, sans crainte et sans appui, Ta douceur, ton langage et simple et magnanime Leur apprit qu'en effet, tout puissant qu'est le crime, Qui renonce a la vie est plus puissant que lui.

Carrier and the atrocities at Nantes gave him an even stronger text:

Vingt barques, faux tissus de planches fugitives, S'entrouvrant au milieu des eaux, Ont elles, par milliers, dans les gouffres de Loire Vomi des Francais enchaines, Au proconsul Carrier, implacable apres boire, {271} Pour son passetemps amenes? Et ces porte-plumets, ces commis de carnage, Ces noirs accusateurs Fouquiers, Ces Dumas, ces jures, horrible areopage De voleurs et de meurtriers, Les ai-je poursuivis jusqu'en leurs bacchanales, Lorsque, les yeux encore ardents, Attables, le bordeaux de chaleurs brutales Allumant leurs fronts impudents, Ivres et begayant la crapule et les crimes, Ils rappellent avec des ris, Leurs meurtres d'aujourd'hui, leurs futures victimes, Et parmi les chansons, les cris, Trouvent deca, dela, sous leur main, sous leur bouche, De femmes un venal essaim, Depouilles du vaincu, transfuges de sa couche, Pour la couche de l'assassin?

The writer of such lines could not hope to escape the proscriptions of the Terror; and it was in prison, awaiting his turn for the guillotine, that his last fragments were written. There a young girl, a fellow prisoner, became the heroine of perhaps his most beautiful lines:

LA JEUNE CAPTIVE.

"L'epi naissant murit, de la faux respecte; Sans crainte du pressoir, le pampre tout l'ete Boit les doux presents de l'aurore; Et moi, comme lui belle, et jeune comme lui, {272} Quoique l'heure presente ait de trouble et d'ennui, Je ne veux point mourir encore.

"Je ne suis qu'au printemps, je veux voir la moisson; Et comme le soleil, de saison en saison, Je veux achever mon annee. Brillante sur ma tige, et l'honneur du jardin, Je n'ai vu luire encore que les feux du matin, Je veux achever ma journee. * * * * * * Ainsi, triste et captif, ma lyre toutefois S'eveillait, ecoutant ces plaintes, cette voix, Ces voeux d'une jeune captive; Et secouant le faix de mes jours languissants, Aux douces lois des vers je pliais les accents De sa bouche aimable et naive."

One last quotation gives a picture of the prison of St. Lazare, whence he went to the scaffold a few days after penning these lines:

Ici meme, en ces parcs ou la mort nous fait paitre, Ou la hache nous tire au sort, Beaux poulets sont ecrits; maris, amants sont dupes. Caquetages; intrigues de sots. On y chante, on y joue, on y leve des jupes; On y fait chansons et bon mots; L'un pousse et fait bondir sur les toits, sur les vitres, Un ballon tout gonfle de vent, Comme sont les discours des sept cents plats belitres, {273} Dont Barere est le plus savant. L'autre court; l'autre saute; et braillent, boivent, rient, Politiqueurs et raisonneurs; Et sur les gonds de fer soudain les portes crient, Des juges tigres nos seigneurs Le pourvoyeur parait. Quelle sera la proie Que la hache appelle aujourd'hui?

Francois de Neufchateau, who became a Director after the revolution of Fructidor, and the younger Chenier, were perhaps the best dramatists of the epoch. The former hardly deserves extended notice. Chenier's Charles IX, played at the outbreak of the Revolution, had a great success as a political play, and he followed it up with several others that served as pegs on which excited audiences might hang their political hats. Voltaire's Brutus, unplayable half a century before, was all the vogue now; and the dramatist had only to air democratic sentiments to please his audience.

The thing went far, and art suffered in the process. Plot and dialogue took on the feverish colours of the Revolution. Audiences howled la Carmagnole or the ca ira, before the curtain went up; and when the play began, revelled in highly-spiced, political dramatics, in which the Pope soon became the most reviled and popular of villains. The Pope {274} drunk, the Pope kicked in the stomach by his brutal confederate George III, the Pope making love to Madame de Polignac, the Pope surrounded by the tyrants of Europe swallowed up by the flame-belching volcano of an enchanted island, such were the titbits that brought moisture to the palates of the connoisseurs of the drama in Paris.

The efforts of Joseph Chenier to get his tragedy Timoleon, played, at a moment when he was not in good repute with the Committee of Public Safety, may serve as an example of many similar incidents. The words, "We need laws, not blood," in his Charles IX, had displeased Robespierre and Billaud-Varennes, and the Jacobins were resolved to prevent any new production. He read the Ms. of his Timoleon however, with great success, to the company of the Theatre de la Republique. Vilate may be left to continue the tale:

Le lendemain je me trouve place, dans la Societe des Jacobins, pres David et Michot. Celui-ci disait a l'autre: Ah! la belle tragedie que celle de Timoleon; c'est un chef d'oeuvre; demande a Vilate. Je ne pus me defendre de rendre une justice eclatante~.~.. au genie de l'auteur. Le peintre (David)... nous repond: Chenier une belle tragedie! c'est impossible. Son ame a-t-elle jamais pu sentir la liberte {275} pour la bien rendre? Non, je n'y crois pas. A quelques jours de la, me trouvant avec Barere et Billaud-Varennes, on parle de Timoleon. Billaud ne put dissimuler son humeur: Elle ne vaut rien; elle n'aura pas l'honneur de la representation. Qu'entend-il par ce vers contre-revolutionaire:

N'est-on jamais tyran qu'avec un diademe?

Barere, qui avait mele ses applaudissements a la lecture de la piece, mais auquel j'avais deja rapporte les propos de David, ajoute: Oui, il n'y a pas de genie revolutionaire; elle manque dans le plan. Billaud a Barere: Ne souffrons pas qu'elle soit jouee. Barere: Donnons lui le plaisir de quelques repetitions.

Several rehearsals were accordingly permitted to take place. Two performances followed. At the third there came a collapse.

On laisse aller la tragedie jusqu'a la scene ou Aristocles va pour placer le bandeau royal sur la tete de Timophane, sous pretexte que le peuple de Corinthe concentre son indignation.~.~.~.

A man in the pit thereupon rose and called out:

Si le peuple eut besoin d'etre provoque pour s'elever contre la tyrannie, c'est une injure faite au peuple francais que de lui offrir cet exemple de faiblesse et d'ineptie. A bas la toile!

The cry was taken up; a riotous scene followed; and presently: on pousse l'horreur jusqu'au point de forcer Chenier a bruler {276} lui-meme, sur le theatre, le fruit de huit mois de travaux et de veilles.

Art, like literature, languished during the Revolution, or meretriciously touched herself up with the fashionable rouge. Before and after are great periods, but for the moment art seems to have lost its cunning; the artist, like David, turns politician. Fragonard and Greuze both survived to see the Empire, but lost their vogue. The touch of Greuze could hardly be appreciated in the age of Danton; the luscious sweetness of Fragonard was in like case; both of these great artists were ruined by the Revolution and died in poverty. Instead of these graceful masters of the false pastoral taste of the decaying century, a robust group of military painters arises, Vernet, Charlet, Gericault, and later Raffet, most brutal, but most candid portrayer of the armies of the Republic. The false classical style, inherited from the period of Louis XVI, is metamorphosed by David and Gros, becomes inflated, declamatory, vapid, and wooden. David's immense picture, the most insistent canvas now hanging in the Louvre, representing the three Horatii swearing to Rome that they would conquer or die, gives the note of the period. False sentiment, {277} mock heroics, glittering formula, lay figure attitude, all are there.

A few artists succeeded in carrying the elegance of the 18th century through the storm into the period beyond, notably Prud'hon, who has been called the Watteau of the Revolution. His portraits of the women of the Bonaparte family, Josephine, Hortense, Pauline, have all the grace and fascination of the earlier age, merge with it the abandon of the Directoire period, and touch the whole with the romanticism and individualism of the coming century. In terrible contrast with these lovely and alluring women of the new age, is the grim figure caught in a few masterly strokes by David, as Marie Antoinette, proud and unbending as ever, but shorn of all the glory of Versailles, her face haggard, her hair gray, dishevelled, mutilated by scissors, passed by on the prisoner's cart on her way to the guillotine. It is the guillotine, in art as in politics the most potent of solvents, that stands between Trianon and the romantics.



END



[1] TO THE NUMBER OF THE DAY IN:

Vendemiare, add 21 to get dates in September, October; Brumaire, add 21 to get dates in October, November; Frimaire, add 20 to get dates in November, December; Nivose, add 20 to get dates in December, January; Pluviose, add 19 to get dates in January, February; Ventose, add 18 to get dates in February, March; Germinal, add 20 to get dates in March, April; Floreal, add 19 to get dates in April, May; Prairial, add 19 to get dates in May, June; Messidor, add 18 to get dates in June, July; Thermidor, add 18 to get dates in July, August; Fructidor, add 17 to get dates in August, September; Fructidor was followed by five jours supplementaires, the sans cullotides.



{279}

INDEX OF NAMES OF PLACES AND PERSONS

Abbaye, l', 153. Aiguillon, duc d', 37, 76, 95. Aix en Provence, 230. Aix la Chapelle, 172. Alembert, d', 18, 19. Almaia, 23. Alsace, 106. Amsterdam, 34. Arcola, 247. Argonne, 149, 157. Arras, 199. Artois, Cte d', 55, 62, 71, 100. Artois, Ctsse d', 33. Augereau, 250. Aulard, 8. Avignon, v.

Babeuf, 244, 245, 246. Bailly, 55, 58, 71, 73, 74, 86, 123, 129, 108. Bale, 229, 249. Barere, 159, 167, 168, 176, 180, 183, 187, 213, 217, 225, 228. Barras, 159, 221, 224, 237, 238, 240, 241, 242, 250, 257. Barry, Mme. du, 14, 37. Barthelemy, 229, 249, 250. Bassano, 247. Bastille, 66, 67, 105. Bayle, 15. Beauharnais, Vcte de, 76, 186, 189. Beauharnais, Josephine, 241, 242. Beaumarchais, 21, 22, 23. Bernadotte, 258, 259. Besenval, 63, 65, 66, 67, 70. Billaud, 142, 193, 213, 218, 219, 225, 228. Biron, 186, 189, 190, see also Lauzun. Blanc, 4, 5. Blondel, 82. Boissy d'Anglas, 248. Bonaparte, 133, 237, 238, 242, 243, 247-253, 256, 259-261; see also Napoleon I. Bordeaux, 185. Bouille, 108, 109, 113, 117, 118, 136, 166. Boyer Fonfrede, 197. Breteuil, 64, 71. Breze, Dreux, 58, 59. Brienne, see Lomenie. Brissot, 84, 128, 131, 132, 135, 136, 159, 161, 187, 188, 197. Brittany, 187. Broglie, 63, 66. Brunswick, 136, 140, 143, 149, 150, 154, 157, 158, 170, 182. Brutus, 21, 273. Buzot, 174, 187, 188, 198.

Calonne, 34, 39, 41-43. Calvin, 17. Cambaceres, 224, 230. Cambon, 128, 159, 176, 218. Campo Formio, 251. Carlyle, 4. Carnot, 159, 187, 216, 217, 240, 242, 249, 250. Carrier, 199, 200, 225, 226, 270, 271. Carteaux, 192. Cassano, 256. Castiglione, 246. Cathelineau, 187. Cercle des Egaux, 245. Chabannes, Mlle. de, 210. Chalier, 186. Championnet, 254, 257. Charette, 187, 234. Charles, Archduke, 247, 254. Charlet, 276. Chateau Gontier, 198. Chateauvieux, 108, 136, 268. Chaumette, 208. Chenier, A., 209, 267-273. Chenier, J., 216, 250, 267, 273-275. Clairon, 33. Claviere, 134, 135. Clermont-Tonnerre, 59, 129. Club Breton, 57, 58, 94. Club de Clichy, 248, 249. Club du Pantheon, 245. Cobenzl, 251. Coblenz, 130, 135, 170, 227. Coburg, 192, 200. Collot, 193, 196, 205, 213, 220, 225, 228, 268. Condorcet, 78, 128, 159, 198. Constant, Benj., 1, 248. Corday, Charlotte, 188, 189, 269, 270. Cordeliers, 109, 120, 121, 123. Couthon, 128, 187, 195, 208, 217, 220, 221. Cromwell, 110, 142. Custine, 170, 176, 186, 189.

Danton, 40, 120, 122, 124, 128, 136, 144, 148, 150, 151, 154, 155, 156, 158, 159, 166, 171-176, 185-188, 191-194, 202-208, 244, 245, 265. Dauphine, 44, 94. David, 276, 277. Desmoulins, 64-66, 91, 104, 155, 197, 204, 205, 207, 208, 265, 266. Diderot, 18, 19. Dreux Breze, see Breze. Dubois, 14. Ducos, 257. Ducrest, 33. Dumouriez, 21, 134-136, 157, 158, 168, 170, 174, 176.

Elie, 68. Elizabeth, Princess, 232. England, 171. Espremenil, d', 44.

Fabre d'Eglantine, 262. Ferdinand IV, 254. Fersen, 117. Feuillants, 124, 128, 129, 131. Figaro, 22, 23. Fleurus, 215. Fontainebleau, 35. Fouche, 159, 196. Foulon, 74. Fouquier Tinville, 196. Fragonard, 276. France, Anatole, 9. Francis II, 135. Francois de Neufchateau, 250, 273. Franklin, 110. Fred. William II, 135, 229. Frejus, 260. Freron, 226. Friuli, 247.

Gensonne, 128, 197. Gericault, 276. Girondins, 159, 161, 163, 165, 170-177, 180-185. Gobel, 203, 210. Gohier, 257. Gregoire, 90, 159. Grenoble, 44. Gretry, 82. Greuze, 276. Gros, 276. Guadet, 128. Guise, 13.

Hanriot, 182, 183, 184, 206, 217, 220, 221. Hardenberg, 229. Hebert, 41, 84, 92, 144, 180-182, 190, 191, 194-197, 202, 204, 206, 207, 244, 266. Henry IV, 13. Hoche, 200, 233, 234, 246. Holland, 171. Hood, 192. Hugo, 3. Hullin, 68.

Isnard, 128, 183, 228.

Jacobin Club, 94. Jaures, 7, 8. Jemmappes, 170. Jervis, 246. Jordan, 248. Joubert, 247, 258, 259. Jourdan, 200, 214, 226, 227, 241, 242, 247, 250, 254, 255, 258, 259.

Kellermann, 157. Kleber, 199. Koeln, 227.

La Barre, 18. La Fayette, 71-74, 78, 86-88, 98, 105, 120, 121, 123, 129, 131, 135, 139, 140, 142, 149, 168. La Force, 154. Lally, 74. Lamartine, 4, 5. Lamballe, Prsse. de, 153, 154. Lameth, 76, 129. La Motte Valois, 39, 40. Lamoignon, 43. Lanjuinais, 159, 160, 228. Larevelliere, 240. La Rochefoucauld, 76, 78, 140. La Rochefoucauld Liancourt, 129. La Rochejacquelein, 79, 198. La Trebbia, 257. Launay, de, 67, 68. Lauzun, 37, see also Biron. Leibnitz, 15. Le Mans, 199. Leoben, 247, 249. Leopold, 113, 130, 135. Letourneur, 240, 249. Lomenie de Brienne, 43-46. Lonato, 246. Longwy, 149. Lorraine, 106, 149. Louis XIV, 13, 14, 15. Louis XV, 14, 15, 26, 27, 33, 35, 37. Louis XVI, 22, 25, 30, 33, 34-36, 38, 40-42, 46, 48, 52, 53, 56-59, 63-65, 70, 73, 74, 80-82, 84, 87-90, 95, 100, 102-106, 112, 114-118, 121-123, 125-127, 131, 132, 134, 137-139, 140, 142, 143, 145, 146, 163-170. Louis XVII, 169, 172, 231, 232. Louis XVIII, see Cte de Provence. Louis Philippe, 3. Loustallot, 91, 265. Louvet, 162, 163, 228. Luckner, 135. Lyons, 175, 185, 186.

Macdonald, 215, 257. Maestricht, 172. Maillard, 85, 153. Mainz, 170, 176, 189. Malesherbes, 167. Mallet, 265. Malta, 253. Mandat, 144, 145. Mantua, 243, 247. Manuel, 136, 140, Marat, 92, 106-108, 113, 119, 120, 132, 133, 143, 144, 155, 161, 163, 166, 176, 177, 181, 184, 188, 189. Marie Antoinette, 36-41, 43, 52, 55, 62, 82, 84, 87, 88, 100, 113, 115, 117, 130, 134, 138, 140, 196, 197, 277. Marceau, 68, 199. Marseilles, 49, 175, 185, 186, 192, 230. Massena, 247, 254, 260. Mazarin, 13. Menou, 236, 237. Merlin de Douai, 250, 257. Metz, 113, 116. Michelet, 4, 5, 7. Mignet, 2, 3, 9. Mirabeau pere, 26. Mirabeau fils, 21, 50, 55, 58, 60, 89, 95, 98-100, 104, 114, 115, 120, 162, 244, 265. Miranda, 172. Montbeliard, 132. Montesquieu, 16, 51. Montmorency, 13. Moreau, 215, 226, 242, 247, 256, 257. Moulin, 257. Mounier, 45, 56, 60, 94. Murat, 20.

Nancy, 108. Nantes, 187, 199, 200. Napoleon I, 3, 18, 21, see also Bonaparte. Napoleon III, 5. Narbonne, Cte de, 132, 134. Necker, 34, 38, 42, 46, 47, 52, 53, 55, 59, 63, 64, 70, 95, 98, 109. Neerwinden, 174. Nelson, 254. Newton, 15. Noailles, 76, 95. Nootka Sound, 99. Normandy, 32, 98, 114, 175, 186-188. Novi, 259.

Orleans, duc Regent, 16. Orleans, duc Egalite, 59, 119, 120, 122, 155, 195, 198.

Pache, 206. Pacy, 188. Paine, T., 159. Petion, 131, 138, 140, 141, 198. Pichegru, 200, 226, 229, 241, 242, 248, 250. Pillnitz, 135. Pius VI, 102. Poitou, 172. Polignac, 37. Pompadour, 14, 25, 33, 37. Provence, Cte de, 116, 117, 130, 232, 233, 257. Prud'hon, 277. Pyramids, 253.

Quesnay, 25. Quiberon, 233.

Raffet, 276. Rambouillet, 35. Rastatt, 251. Rewbell, 224, 240, 255. Richelieu, Cardinal, 13. Richelieu, Duc de, 14, 37. Rivoli, 247. Robespierre, 4, 18, 90, 91, 112, 115, 124, 128, 132, 142, 148, 155, 159, 163-166, 173, 175, 179, 182, 183, 187-194, 197, 202-205, 208-223, 244, 265. Rochambeau, 110, 135, 136. Rohan, 39, 40. Roland, 134, 135, 198. Roland, Mme., 162, 198, 209. Rossignol, 190, 199. Rouen, 114. Rouget de Lisle, 133, 266, 267. Rousseau, 18-20, 51, 211, 214.

St. Cloud, 114-116, 121. St. Denis, 15. Ste Menehould, 117. St. Germain, 35. St. Helena, 3. St. Just, 159, 187, 195, 205-208, 214, 216, 219, 221. St. Lazare, 272. St. Meard, 153. St. Vincent, 246. Salm, 132. San Ildefonso, 246. Santerre, 167, 169. Sardinia, 171. Saumur, 186. Savenay, 199. Savoy, 171. Seze, 167. Sieyes, 50, 55, 56, 60, 160, 208, 216, 224, 248, 251, 255-261. Simon, 197, 232. Sorel, 7. Souham, 215. Spain, 171. Stael, Mme. de, 1-3, 249. Stockach, 254. Stofflet, 234. Sully, 13. Suvaroff, 256-260. Sybel, von, 7.

Taine, 58. Talleyrand, 95, 105, 248, 249. Tallien, 159, 216, 250. Temple, the, 147, 154. Theot, 213, 214. Thiers, 2, 3, 5, 9. Tocqueville, 5. Toulon, 192. Treilhard, 257. Trier, Archb. of, 130. Tronchet, 167. Turgot, 25.

United States, 34.

Valenciennes, 189. Valmy, 157, 158. Vandamme, 215. Varennes, 117, 118. Vaudreuil, 37. Vendee, 172, 174. Verdun, 117, 149-151, 157. Vergniaud, 84, 128, 134, 138, 159, 169, 197, 265. Versailles, 13, 14, 23, 24, 8l, 85, 86. Vizille, 44, 45. Voltaire, 9, 16-21, 51, 211.

Washington, 110. Wattignies, 200. William Tell, 21. Wimpffen, 188.

Yorktown, 34.

Zurich, 260.

THE END