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Camille’s long and uphill battle to get Lucile

Monsieur, I am not mistaken and I am forced to agree that your letter is worthy of a father and full of wisdom. The first moments of pain that I experienced were followed by the calm of reason, and I take advantage of this calm to allow myself a few observations regarding your letter and putting them before your eyes.

Don't let my probity scare you. The reflections that M. Duplessis made me make on your [sic] uncertain state. My uncertain state is not uncertain. I am a lawyer in the parliament of Paris and what makes your state certain in this profession is not to be on the board, but talent and work. I am certain morally of being in charge of all the appeals of the sentences of Guise, which alone will compose for me an honest cabinet and an income of 7 or 8,000 livres at least; I cannot believe that there exists anyone who, after having read the memoir that is printed about me at this moment, tells you that my condition is uncertain. The letters I have from MM. Lorget and Linguet would prove to you, if you read them, that my condition is not uncertain. Already I have a flow of business which can only grow and I will have won a hundred louis this year, supposing that I lose the lawsuit which is about to be judged and whose gain would be worth more than two thousand écus to me.

On future events which may call me back to the provinces. I took a vow to stability in the bar of the capital, this vow is expressed clearly in the epistle and the printed memorandum which I gave to you. There exists only one thing that could make me detach from Paris and make a stay in the provinces bearable, it would be if I met Mlle Duplessis there, to what oaths must I bind myself in order to take away this fear that I will leave Paris? I see very well that you do not know how much I love your daughter, since you suppose that I would be able to sadden her by taking her away from a father to whom she is so tenderly dear.

On the impossibility for me to have a house where your daughter, like at your place, could find the softnesses and charms of life. There is something touching about this paternal fear that would have made me reproach myself for my premature research. But did you believe that Mlle Duplessis is less dear to me than to you and that I wanted a happiness that would have cost her the sacrifice of the comforts of life? As for me, the sweetness and pleasures of life would have been to live with her and with you, and these pleasures would have made all the others insipid to me. There are two things here that I cannot believe, first off the fact that this fear so natural to a father that his daughter would be less happy did not alarm you from the first moment you found out about my goal; second off, that your answer here would have been the one I had the pleasure of seeing. If you had thought that Mademoiselle Duplessis' change of lodging would deprive her of the pleasures of life, it would not have been with me that she could find those pleasures. I had not concealed my lack of fortune, nor sought to surprise your avowal by magnifying my hopes, in order to have the satisfaction of showing you that I had brought into this affair all the frankness and delicacy which befits my profession; I almost decried my father's fortune and succeeded so well that you then said to me: ”With the help of your fortune, I could wait until some brilliant affair had rescued me from obscurity.” You said this to me in much stronger terms, for your expressions were that, no longer being forced to run after an écu, I could devote myself without distraction to studies which would later make me known later as a jurisconsult, if the embarrassment of my stammer was an insurmountable obstacle which prevented me from succeeding in my pleading. It is clear that you did not flatter yourself then that I could put together a home for Mlle Duplessis. However, this beloved child was still not less dear to you at the moment and you surely didn’t think that she would lose the comforts of life, but you understood that there was a way to arrange it so that she would not have to make any sacrifice until the time which is not far off, when my condition would bring me 10 to 12 thousand livres. Did Mlle. Duplessis need a house other than yours for a few years? I would even have liked her to continue to live together with you, and for the change in her adress, while at the same time making me the happiest of all men, only to have added to the sweetnesses of life without it costing her any deprivation. Although the dowry I propose to give her is of a certain consistency, you may remember that when you mentioned this section, I kept silent. Surely, to wait until my estate was enough I did not need to find a dowry. At the present moment, I am able to count only on 3 or 4 thousand livres that I would get this year from my work or from my father. But wouldn’t these 4 thousand livres, joined to the 3 or 4 that you would give to mademoiselle your daughter, be enough for a house worthy of her? Of you I wouldn’t ask for anything more. She would have brought a thousand amiable qualities into the household; as for me, I would have put my estate there and I dare say some talents. It would have been a marriage without a dowry like that of the laborers, but those of that time are well worth those of ours. I never made mine a business, the only dowry I would have asked for was that one loves me, not as much as I do (in return), that is impossible, but I am sure that mademoiselle your daughter would have been touched to see me solely occupied with the care of paying her the debt of happiness that I would have contracted.

You urged me to overcome my affection. If it were only an affection, it could be overcome, but the wound is deeper. Remember, monsieur, in what dejection I appeared before you, my state had become so violent that whatever you might have said to me, it was impossible for my pain to wring my heart more on leaving your house compared to what fear had caused it upon entering. That is why, even though it cost me, I begged you to tear off the blindfold and uproot my hope. But how much you have decreased it instead. I only asked for a distant hope and you gave me a near hope. Fortune, you told me, would not determine your choice and you did not make happiness consist of fortune. I exercised an honorable profession that it was not even necessary to fulfill with a certain brilliance in order to appear to you worthy of belonging to you; it was enough for you that your daughter was loved tenderly and constantly and that second to her your son-in-law loved only work. Who would have believed in my place that this son-in-law was really me. You did more: you invited me to spend holidays and Sundays at your countryhouse and you allowed me, you even warned me to let my father know about this interview. At this moment my father has probably written to you and part of my joy was to think about he who does not care about the dowry (that of my mother, who is still whole despite our misfortunes because it has always been sacred in his eyes, was more important) but who loves me with tenderness and is no doubt delighted that I have finally obtained this demoiselle Duplessis of whom I have been speaking to him incessantly for five years and whom he wanted me to show him when he spent a few days in Paris two years ago. In my letter from March 22, it was no longer vain conjectures and equivocal walks in the Luxembourg that I entertained, it was speeches that a father of a family had given me, hadn't I had to base myself entirely on his answer?

It would be deceiving my honesty to make any promises to me at this time, considering the young age of your daughter. If you only wish to postpone the term of my happiness, I have already waited five years, and I can still wait another two and even more, but since I above all make happiness consist in this thought that we love each other for life, I only beg you to tell me if after two years and when my heart has perhaps been consumed by these attachments, I will not have to renounce the sweet habit of loving her. My age was no more advanced four days ago when you gave me such imminent hopes. Also this reason that you bring is not the real one and you yourself do not disguise it from me. An even more essential point to observe to you, is that it for me would be putting up a barrier against the parties which within two years could present themselves and to make you give yourself up to opportunities which fulfill your views. Besides, did I ask for Mlle Duplessis right away? I only asked if one day, when my position would be fully complete, I could receive her hand. As for what concerns me in this article, what occasion, what views can you tell me about? What purpose can I have but to be happy, and I can only be so, monsieur, with you. Where can I find another family that I love so much? I have gone too far with mademoiselle Duplessis to ever retrace my steps, and if you come to take away from me the hope that you have made me conceive, you will have unwittingly caused the misfortune of my life. I come to the great reason, that it would be to put up a barrier against the parties which could present themselves within two years. If, when you did me the honor of granting me an interview, you had said that to me, everything would have been very clear and I would have had nothing to respond to. But, since then, you declared to me that fortune would not decide your choice for mademoiselle your daughter, and that you would seek for her only a husband who would love her with tenderness; so you mean that in two years from now there may come people who like her better than me. If so, let it be. All of them will undoubtedly love her positively, but to love her more desperately than me will be difficult. And I will always have been five years ahead.

You told me enough that you had not changed your mind in regards to me, and that, if I succeeded in destroying the motives that you were good enough to explain to me in detail, you would return to your first feelings. It seems to me that I have replied in a satisfactory manner to the objections of M. Duplessis; I therefore conjure you to come back to your first favorable dispositions and return for me the heart of a father. I would very much like you and Madame Duplessis to grant me an interview. I would remove all of your doubts, and I would come down to details that cannot enter into a letter: do not push me away from your bosom but allow me to give you both names to which my heart would refuse if I had to give them to others. It is with these feelings that I have the honor to be, monsieur, your very humble and very obedient servant. Desmoulins Lawyer in parliament. Letter from Camille to Lucile’s father, March 1787

Madame, It is now that I have lost all hope: but what do I risk by writing to you so that a reply from you yourself will completely disperse it. I returned to Paris a bit less discouraged than I had left it, because the prize of the case that I had won last year, the many bags of lawsuits that I brought back, the ostensible proofs of public confidence, and even more the union of his province to which my father had been named all with one voice, and which gave him the greatest credit, had raised my hopes. I got tasked, among other things, with the biggest criminal affair that there was in the Parliament of Paris at the moment. All of this having either reestablished the inequality of my fortune or compensated for it by public consideration, I had fallen back on my dreams of happiness. But the carriage that you took has destroyed all of my illusions. I sense that the daughter can’t walk on foot when her mother rides in a carriage. My present fortune lines up with the advantages that Mr. Duplessis had told me he would give to mademoiselle, but the luxury of a carriage is beyond my strength. Judge if the noise of this carriage pleases me, when it warns me that you are driving your daughter into the world where she is going to find so many admirers. Thus will all my dreams vanish. Do I dare, however, Madame, to remind you of what you told me, that you would put no ambition in the choice of son-in-law, and that my profession seemed to you quite honest and quite noble. This is what inspired me with some confidence. Must you today take away from me a hope so dear to the attachment that I have nurtured for so many years to come out of my heart with hope! But this is impossible. After you made me the honour of telling me your views on the position you intended for Mademoiselle Duplessis, I admit that I flattered myself that all that I lacked was her consent, that she would be touched by a pursuit so constant and filled with so much trouble, and that I’d obtain some payback from her compassion, if I could not expect it from another feeling. How many times I have consoled myself over my sorrows with the thought that there is no affection more tender and lasting than the one born from compassion. If there is something humiliating for self-esteem in owing one's happiness only to this feeling, I was on the other sure of soon inspiring true tenderness in Mademoiselle your daughter by my feelings, and of ennobling myself in her eyes by the dignity of my whole life. I beg you, Madame, do not read this letter to your husband, with whom I would still pass for a madman, it is to you that I am writing it, to you who never send back my letters and whom I I have never left, without leaving your presence, if not full of contentment, at least full of patience. Shall I not have the pleasure of conversing with you at least sometimes? I apologize if I have made this letter too long, but tired of other people's affairs, it is natural that I should fall back on my own, which I have managed so badly, and in these first moments of me leaving my family, I have difficulty accustoming myself to solitude, which the multiplicity of my affairs and my lack of knowledge make a necessity for me. I found verses printed and maimed in provincial notices which I had addressed to you; I take the liberty of sending them to you and of renewing my homage to you. Will you do nothing for your poet? I have the honour to be, with the deepest respect, Madame, Your very humble and very obedient servant, Desmoulins Camille to Lucile’s mother, December 5 1787

Madame, I am sending you the consultation of M. Fournel regarding the case of the priest of Bourg, for which I have just completed the supporting memorandum. Some considerations are delaying its publication until Easter. The judges of Laon, who were afraid of it, have just written to the attorney general and the first president of the court, to try to obtain the removal of what concerns them from my memorandum. I cannot take enough precautions to avoid compromising myself and risking the loss of my position, which has become very precious to me since the speech you were kind enough to give me in Luxembourg. Once you have read my memorandum, and compared it with the feeble consultation of Me Fournel who nevertheless enjoys such a great reputation, I dare to imagine, Madame, that you will forgive me for having also hoped for some consideration; and that you will forgive me for having nourished another much more cherished hope, remembering that M. Duplessis, a year before yesterday, did not even demand that I should become a famous lawyer in order to obtain Mademoiselle Duplessis. Now this hope is weakening every day, I see that everyone has the same eyes for your daughter as I do, it seems to that in every moment someone comes to ask for her hand. I am waiting for my justificatory memorandum which will finally fix my fate and make access to you either open or closed forever. The encouragement that has sustained me most in this work to which I have sacrificed all my business has been the hope of presenting it to you. Is it possible, Madame, that when the image of happiness that I find with you detaches me from all other societies and makes them bland and unbearable, you never tire of pushing me away from yours, which would take the place of the whole universe? I have the honour to be, with the deepest respect, Madame, Your very humble and very obedient servant, Desmoulins Camille to Lucile’s mother, March 4 1788

Madame, What harm have I then done to you for you to treat me so harshly? And how could a letter that I wrote only with the purpose of persuading you offend you and draw such a bitter response from me? I don't want it to be your fault if I conceived a mad passion, but don't we owe anything to those who are made to suffer even without our fault? Couldn’t you have made me understand in a less mortifying way that there was madness in my pursuit, that the disproportion of fortune (something which I wasn’t aware of until yesterday) was an insurmountable obstacle? You seemed unhappy with me, and I couldn’t be unhappy with you. On the contrary, I would have thanked you for the care you took in preventing a disastrous passion, I would have thought myself treated well. Because you know better than anyone that it takes very little to make me believe it. Sometimes you have really put my self-esteem to severe trials! One does not die of spite, if so I would have already have died a thousand times. But all it would take is a glance, half a smile, to bring me back. Even today, at this moment, all my self-love is incurable! I am trying to reconcile the harshness of what you have just written to me, with the very different speech that you gave me, and I am trying to interpret it favorably. It seems to me that the remedy you employ is either too violent or too little. It's up to you to make yourself lovable anywhere other than at my place. Is it just a defence? Or is it not also a permission? Forbidden to make myself friendly in your eyes at your place, permission to make myself friendly, if possible, in the Luxembourg. This is what it means to be a lawyer. We pick at everything, and instead of a woman of wit explaining her thoughts in two words, we always write, which eads me to believe that your answer does not entail a banishment for life, that was what you had the pleasure of repeating for me in the Luxembourg, not at the moment, and besides, it's still a letter that I received from you, which is something. You see Madame that I am laughing and crying at the same time. Thank you, one more word from you. Or, treat me so harshly that you force me to hate you and even your demoiselles; or, if your feelings have not changed since the conversation I had the honor of obtaining from you in the Luxembourg, refuse me permission to come to your house now, so as to give me the hope of one day obtaining it. I have the honour to be, with the deepest respect, Madame, Your very humble and very obedient servant, Desmoulins Camille to Lucile’s mother, March 16 1788

[…] Oh, I would like to see Melkam! How curious I would be to hear him speak, how he would teach me things! Always the same thought comes to besiege me, it’s a very singular thing… Tell me, are you thinking about me or are you forgetting me? Ever since… every day I don’t miss it… is carved into it… I’ll never call it anything else. It is to him that I have consecrated it, he will take my place. […] Lucile in her diary, July 21 1788

I always continued to chase the same hare, the mother lured me into the house, the father promised me his daughter, gave me his word of honour; the girl made me think she wanted me; a few days later came a terrible storm which threw me far from the door, farther than ever. […] I could not imagine that by courting the girl I had pleased the mother, and that she wanted to take a chance on me; I could not trust the rascal of a servant who went home to me to invite me to take lodgings in the apartment next to theirs, who said that the girl was flirtatious, that it was was the mother who liked me, that I would succeed. Today the scales have fallen from my eyes; but then I thought they wanted to test me, a new promise to give her to me, a new rupture. Camille in a letter to his college comrade Pierre Jean André Grasset, October 27 1788, cited in Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2018).

One day, MC was thinking about his portrait; he says to Maman: ”I would like to have a great reputation, do you know why? It's not for the glory, but to be free to do what I want. Then I wouldn't look ridiculous." "It's true, Maman told him, because one passes a lot of faults onto a great man." Lucile in her diary, 1789

Madame, If you knew what a trap was set for me, you would have had compassion for me. I see well that I am no luckier when it comes to friendships than I am when it comes to love. It is not so that I for a moment have given credence to the slander. It is thus, I said to myself, that I was slandered to Madame Duplessis, it is due to these artifices that I was barred from entering their house... However, I was only asked to suspend my judgment, I was to have some clarification this morning for which I would be grateful. I went to look for it and saw only a gross conspiracy against my happiness. I don't know who to trust in the world anymore. Madame, you have sometimes shown interest in me, have pity on my situation; I no longer dare to come to your house, three times I have been refused entry, but deign to give me a moment's interview to unravel this riddle for you, and don't think that I could ever believe that Mademoiselle Lucile and M. Duplessis deceived me so cruelly. Virtue and sensibility have a physiognomy that art does not counterfeit. I distrust all men now, but something tells me that my trust would not be betrayed if I place it in you without reserve. I have the honour to be, with the deepest respect, Madame, Your very humble and very obedient servant, Desmoulins PS — last Tuesday, you sent me back full of joy. I wrote my issue in 12 hours, but the pains are in proportion to the pleasures, and you have given me so much grief for eight days that I have not been able to write a single line; it is you who would have given me genius if you had wanted to. This issue, which belonged to you, since it was thanks to you I had it written in such a short time, you were cruel enough to send it back to me without wanting to read it. Madame, I’m writing this letter for you alone, if it is imprudent, don’t show it to anyone else, I beg you. Camille to Lucile’s mother, April 14 1790.

Madame, I have the honour of letting you know MM. De Mirabeau and Emmery are coming over next Sunday in the afternoon to see the obelisk at Bourg-la-Reine. I had not dreamed of Madame Duplessis coming to Paris today and I had sent away the wigmaker of whom I have no use when you’re at Bourg-la-Reine, which makes me dry with impatience at this moment when I wait for him in order to go and place myself at your feet and recommend myself to your all-powerful intercession. I have to honour to be, with all the feelings that you inspire in me, Madame, Your very humble and very obedient servant Camille Desmoulins. Camille to Lucile’s mother, April 28 1790.

Madame, Here is the letter from Mirabeau that I found at my house, as I expected. He came over with it himself according to the doorman, and you will recognize his handwriting. Did you notice how Mademoiselle Lucile sent me away cruelly yesterday? But one must always admire her more and more and she must be allowed to have a little pride. I really hope that now at least, I have no more new talents to discover in her, if she has any that I still don't know about, please hide them from me. I kiss your hands; as for Mademoiselle Lucile, there is no way to kiss hers even with gloves on. Regardless, Madame, you are so much loved. What hurt you yesterday has hurt your celestial Lucile so much that if you wanted to take my interests to heart, I would hope for everything. Forget what she forbade you. As for me, I see well that I would never touch her, even if I addressed such beautiful prayers to her as the one she made to God. Camille to Annette Duplessis, May 10 1790. The prayer to God Camille is referring to here might be the one Lucile

It is now, O Lucile, that I truly find myself to be pitied. Up until now I had blamed fortune, and it could come, I had blamed your parents and they could, when they saw me have a status and a reputation, stop distancing me from you. But now that I am allowed to see you, the hope of being happy has vanished forever. I see too clearly, O Lucile, that your heart cannot approach mine. Your face, as if of its own accord, continually turns away from me. In vain my pain, a constancy of 7 years and my tears are before your eyes. I am not lovable enough, I do not want so many charms and qualities. The sadness that I feel near you at not being able to please, combined with my usual melancholy, makes my company tiring for you. All the conversations I hear seem so cold, so indifferent to me that I cannot take any part in them. In spite of the boredom of my company, touched perhaps by my tender attachment, you make an effort on yourself, and instead of retiring to your books, and to this work that you love so much, you prolong for me the pleasure of enjoying your sight, I thank you for that, beautiful Lucile, I thank you for this kindness. But this pleasure of seeing you is cruelly poisoned by this thought that I will never succeed in pleasing you. I see too well that my presence is for you, oh beautiful Lucile, neither that of a lover, nor that of a husband, nor even that of a friend. No matter how much I question your heart with my gaze, it does not respond. Your eyes never turn towards your unfortunate lover. After 7 years of such tender love, I find the opportunity to present my hand to you for a moment, and you have the harshness to refuse me, to tell me that I will never obtain this hand so ardently desired. Rather than offering me a seat in your carriage, today you would rather have seen me die of fatigue following you. It’s done, I no longer hope to find the way to your heart, no, this charming Lucile will never love me, she will never be my Lucile. How little do they know you, those who congratulate you and who envy you. O unfortunate Desmoulins. If you had placed your happiness in riches, in dignities, in glory and you had been unable to achieve it, only you and your madness would have to be blamed for your ills. But to have placed it in the possession of Lucile's heart, when her mother responded to me from this heart 5 years ago, when she had emboldened me to ask her daughter in marriage, when her father had approved of me, when he had deceived me so cruelly about his daughter's emerging inclination, when they closed my heart to all affection, to all other happiness, after 7 years of constancy, to see that one displeases, that one shall never obtain this promised happiness, this happiness placed in nature. This is what tears me apart, but I would rather be unhappy alone than try to get you through importunity, extract half-consent and make you unhappy with me. I want to get used to the thought that she will never be mine, that she will never put her hand in mine, that I will not rest on Lucile's breast, that I will not press her against my heart. Retire into solitude, O unhappy Camille, go and cry for the rest of your life, forget if possible about her singing, and her loud piano, and her graces, and her wit and her beauty, and her walks and her window, and her writings, and so many qualities of which you were no less sure for having only guessed at them. Camille in an undated letter to Lucile from 1790, cited on page 55-56 of Journal 1788-1793: Lucile Desmoulins ; texte établi et présenté par Philippe Lejeune (1995)

You told me, O Lucile, that I would waste my time loving you. Well! I resign myself to my misfortune, I renounce the hope of possessing you. My tears flow abundantly. But you won't stop me from loving you. May others have the pleasure of seeing you, of hearing you. Those people were loved… from heaven. As for me, I must not be in its anger. O Gods! Loving a Demoiselle with… Camille in an undated letter to Lucile most likely from 1790, cited on page 57 of Journal 1788-1793: Lucile Desmoulins ; texte établi et présenté par Philippe Lejeune (1995)

O you who are at the bottom of my heart, you who I dare not to love, or rather who I dare not say that I love, dear C…, you believe me to be insensitive!… Ah cruel!… Do you judge me according to your heart, and could this heart attach itself to an insensitive being? Well yes, I prefer to suffer, I prefer that you forget me... O God, judge of my courage... Which one of us has the most to suffer? I dare not admit it to myself, what I feel for you! I only occupy myself with disguising it... You suffer, you say... Ah, I suffer more! Your image is constantly present in my thoughts, it never leaves me... I look for your faults, I find them, these faults, and love them... Tell me why then all these fights... Why would I have to make it a mystery even to my mother? I would like her to know it, to guess it, but I would not like to tell her... O sublime thought! To think, yes, it is a blessing from heaven... C, I tremble to form only the first letter of your name... If someone were to find what I write! If you would find it yourself... Love... Ah, C... shall I be your wife? Will we be united one day? Alas, perhaps as I form these wishes, you forget me... Oh, pain! You, forgetting me... at this cruel thought my tears wet my paper, my eyes are troubled, I barely make out what I'm writing... That a tender soul has to suffer... Yes, don't know that I love you , go, flee, C, go seek happiness near another… I will live far from you, I will learn one day that a link… Ah, would this link make you happy? Should you be so far from me?… I will have no reproach to make of you… it is I who am cruel towards me… You are going to make me cherish solitude even more… Your name that I have carved into the corner of a tree, your name that only I can see... I call it the tree of mystery... Alas, very often I hold it in my arms, and when the wind shakes it, it seems to me that it’s you who breathe... It's in my garden that I write, sitting on the ground at the foot of my lawn, leaning my elbow, leaning my body, I'm alone... Drops of water fall, a ray of sunshine pierces the foliage… Maman went to Paris, maybe you're with her. But is it really true that you love me? You love me... you love Lucile... well if you love me, run away from me! I am a monster…I have everything xxxx… I can no longer think, I am annihilated……… I fall into daydreams in spite of myself… Oh, what is the human heart? What then am I? Me... you... and everyone... Why do I exist? These clouds that pass over my head, who makes them pass? C, why this stubbornness to hide the fact that I love you? Will you come back again... will I be able to run away from you wishing to be near you?... Will I still see you looking for my thought in my eyes, sometimes thinking I guess it, alarming you with a word that you have misinterpreted, will I still hear you complaining to Maman about my indifference? What will be the end of all this? What will become of both of us? Alas, maybe separated forever, we will mourn our fate in silence… We will remind each other, and we will say “It is together that we should be happy”. Time will pass like this, death will overtake us, we die……..and in this cruel moment that we… This thought tears me apart! Oh, come, come and put a veil on the future! Lucile in her diary, July 16 1790

Today, December 11, I finally see myself at the fulfillment of my wishes. Happiness for me has been a long time coming, but finally it has arrived, and I am as happy as one can be on this earth. This charming Lucile, whom I have talked to you so much about, whom I have loved for the past eight years, at last her parents give her to me and she does not refuse me. Her mother just came to tell me the news, crying of joy. The inegality of fortune, M. Duplessis having 20 000 francs a year, had up until now held back my happiness. The father was dazzled by the offers made to him. He dismissed a suitor who came with 100 000 francs. Lucile, who had already refused 25 000 francs a year, had no trouble giving him her permission. You are going to know her by this single trait. When her mother told me a moment ago, she brought me to her room; I threw myself before Lucile’s knees; surprised at hearing her laugh I open my eyes, hers were in no better state than mine, she was all in tears, she was even crying profusely and yet she was still laughing. I have never seen such a delightful spectacle, and I would not have imagined that nature and sensibility could unite these two contrasts to such an extent. Her father told me that he no longer opposed us marrying because he wanted to give me the 100 000 francs that he promised his daughter beforehand, and that I could go with him to the notary whenever I wanted. I responded: You are a capitalist, you have moved cash around your entire life, I won’t interfere in the contract and that much money is going to embarrass me. You love your daughter too much for me to stipulate her. You’re asking nothing of me, so make the contract however you want it. He also gave me half of his silverware, which amounts to 10 000 francs. Please, don’t make too much noise about this. Let us be modest in prosperity. Send me your consent and that of my mother post by post; be diligent in Laon for dispensations and let there be only one publication of banns in Guise as in Paris. We can get married in eight days. My dear Lucile longs as much as I do that we may no longer be separated. Do not arouse the hatred of our envious people with this news, and like me, keep your joy within your heart, or at most pour it out in the bosom of my dear mother, my brothers and sisters. I am now in a position to come to your aid, and that is a great part of my joy: my mistress, my wife, your daughter and her entire family embrace you. Camille to his father, December 11 1790

#They were so dramatic 😭��#camille desmoulins #lucile desmoulins #frev

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itssemisstuff · 24 days ago

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Frev friendships — Bonbonaparte

During my [sic, his?] second stay in the Army of Italy, Robespierre the younger had the opportunity to become quite closely linked with Bonaparte. During his first mission, he, like me, had made his acquaintance, but had not cultivated it as particularly as during the second one. Bonaparte had a very high regard for my two brothers, and especially for the eldest; he admired his talents, his energy, the purity of his patriotism and his intentions. So Bonaparte was sincerely a republican; I would even say that he was a montagnard republican; at least he had that effect on me by the way he looked at things at the time when I was in Nice. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1835), p. 127. Going off the timeline given in Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte (1885), it sounds rather strange for Augustin and Charlotte to have met Napoleon during their stay in Nice in the fall of 1793, seeing as the latter had left the town already on July 14 1793, being with the Army of Carteaux up until 9 October, after which he went to Toulon. Charlotte does however also write Augustin made frequent trips to the armies during their stay in Nice, so maybe an encounter happened here?

At the time when these circumstances occurred Bonaparte had just received his commission of captain of artillery. Shortly after he was sent to Toulon to command the works of the siege. About this period of his life, Bonaparte was very intimate with Robespierre the younger, with thom Junot was also well acquainted. Young Robespierre was what might be called an agreeable young man, animated by no bad sentiments, and believing, or feigning to believe, that his brother was led on by a parcel of wretches, every one of whom he would banish to Cayenne if he were in his place. Memoirs of the Duchess D' Abrantés (Madame Junot) (1832), page 76.

Bonaparte, after the siege of Toulon, was appointed brigadier-general, with orders to join the Army of Italy, under the orders of General Dumerbion; it was then, through the patronage of Aréna, that he became intimate with Robespierre the younger and Ricord and his wife, afterwards his protectors. From the time Bonaparte joined the first Army of Italy, holding very low rank, he desired and systematically sought to get to the top of the ladder by all possible means; fully convinced that women constituted a powerful aid, he assiduously paid court to the wife of Ricord, knowing that she exercised great influence over Robespierre the Younger, her husband's colleague. Memoirs of Barras: Member of the Directorate (1895), p. 148-149.

…I add to the names of the patriots that I have named to you, citizen Galmiche, judge in Vesoul, honest and talented man, citizen Morin, public prosecutor of the military tribunal, citizen Buonaparte, general head of the artillery of transcendent merit, the latter is Corsican, he only offers me the guarantee of a man of this nation who has resisted the caresses of Paoli, whose properties were ravaged by this traitor. Augustin in a letter to his brother, April 5 1794. This is the only conserved document in which Augustin mentions Napoleon that I know of.

The Emperor, for example, has told us, that while engaged in fortifying the coasts at Marseilles, he was a witness to the horrible condemnation of the merchant Hugues, a man of eighty-four years of age, deaf and nearly blind. In spite of his age and infirmities, his atrocious executioners pronounced him guilty of conspiracy: his real crime was him being worth eighteen millions. This he was himself aware of, and he offered to surrender his wealth to the tribunal, provided he might be allowed to retain five hundred thousand francs, which, he said, he could not live long to enjoy. But this proposition was rejected, and he was led to the scaffold. ”At this sight,” said Napoleon, "I thought the world was at an end" — an expression which lie was accustomed to employ on any extraordinary occasion. Barras and Fréron were the authors of these atrocities. The Emperor did Robespierre the justice to say, that he had seen long letters written by him to his brother, Robespierre the younger, who was then the Representative to the Army of the South, in which he warmly opposed and disavowed these excesses, declaring that they would disgrace and ruin the Revolution. Memorial de Sainte Helene: journal of the private life and conversations of the Emperor Napoleon at Saint Helena (1823), page 83-84. The letters from Maximilien to Augustin alluded to here cannot be found today.

Indeed that spring the friendship between Augustin and Napoleon was so marked that Tilly, the French consul in Genoa, writing to the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, referred to Bonaparte as the favourite and counsellor of Robespierre the Younger. Bonaparte tells us, and he may only be a little exaggerating, ‘He loved me much,’ and relates how, when Haller asked Augustin for supplies, ‘Robespierre would never sign anything to do with the army or the supplies without consulting me. He would say to Haller who was then administrator; “That’s good, but I must speak to Bonaparte”.’ […] Napoleon’s words to General Bertrand many years later were: ”I believe that Robespierre the Younger asked his brother to make me Commander of the Army of Italy, but Carnot opposed it. Augustin: the younger Robespierre by (2011) by Mary Young, chapter 16. Young cites Cahiers de St. Hélène 1816-1821 (1951) by Henri Gratien Bertrand, volume 2, as the source for this. She doesn’t give a source for the Tilly letter.

The brother of Robespierre, after the capture of Toulon, had been sent as commissary to the army of the Alps. Napoléon was considered as the hero of that memorable siege, and was appointed general of brigade: he was at Nice, where he commanded the artillery. His connexion with the army had brought about an intimacy with the young Robespierre, who appreciated him. It appears that the ruler of the convention had been informed of the uncommon talents of the conqueror of Toulon, and that he was desirous of replacing the commandant of Paris, Henriot, whose incapacity began to tire him. Here is a fact which I witnessed. My family owed to the promotion of Napoléon a more prosperous situation. To be nearer to him, they had established themselves at the Chateau Sallé, near Antibes, a few miles distant only from the head-quarters of the general; I had left St. Maximin to pass a few days with my family and my brother. We assembled together, and the general gave us every moment that was at his own disposal. He arrived one day more pre-occupied than usual, and, while walking between Joseph and myself, he announced to us that it depended upon himself to set out for Paris the next day, and to be in a position by which he could establish us all advantageously. For my part, the news enchanted me. To go to the great capital appeared to be the height of felicity, that nothing could overweigh. ”They offer me,” said Napoléon,” the place of Henriot. ”I am to give my answer this evening.” ”Well, what say you to it?” He hesitated a moment. ”Eh? eh?” rejoined the general, ”but it is worth the trouble of considering: it is not a case to be enthusiastic upon; it is not so easy to save one’s head at Paris as at St. Maximin. The young Robespierre is an honest fellow; but his brother is not to be trifled with: he will be obeyed. Can I support that man?! No, never. I know how useful I should be to him in replacing his simpleton of a commandant of Paris; but it is what I will not be. It is not yet time; there is no place honourable for me at present but the army. We must have patience: I shall command Paris hereafter!” Such were the words of Napoléon. He then expressed to us his indignation against the reign of terror, of which he announced the approaching downfall: he finished by repeating several times, half gloomy, half smiling: ”What should I do in that galley?” The young Robespierre solicited him in vain. A few weeks after, the 9th Thermidor arrived, to deliver France, and justified the foresight of the general. Memoirs: Lucien Bonaparte, prince of Canino (1836), p. 42-43.

When attached to the Army of Nice or of Italy, [Napoleon] became a great favourite with the representative Robespierre the younger, whom he described as possessing qualities very different from his brother: the latter Napoleon never saw. Robespierre the younger, on being recalled to Paris by his brother, sometime before the 9th ef Thermidor, exerted every endeavour to prevail on Napoleon to accompany him. ”If I had not firmly resisted," observed the Emperor, "who knows whither this first step might have led me, and for what a different destiny I might have been reserved!” Memorial de Sainte Helene: journal of the private life and conversations of the Emperor Napoleon at Saint Helena (1823) page 85.

In the course of our conversation, relative to Robespierre, the Emperor said, that he had been very well acquainted with his brother, the younger Robespierre, the representative to the Army of Italy. He said nothing against this young man, whom he had inspired with great confidence and considerable enthusiasm for his person. Previously to the 9th of Thermidor, young Robespierre being recalled by his brother, who was then secretly laying his plans, insisted on Napoleon's accompanying him to Paris. The latter experienced the greatest difficulty in ridding himself of the importunity, and at length only escaped it by requesting the interference of the General-in-chief, Dumerbion, whose entire confidence he possessed, and who represented that it was absolutely necessary he should remain where he was. ”Had I followed young Robespierre,” said the Emperor, "how different might have been my career! On what trivial circumstances does human fate depend!" Memorial de Sainte Helene: journal of the private life and conversations of the Emperor Napoleon at Saint Helena (1823) page 182-183.

One thing that has not been reported, as far as I know, by any historian of the revolution, is that after 9 Thermidor Bonaparte proposed to the representatives of the people who were on mission in the army of Italy, and who had succeeded my younger brother and Ricord, to march on Paris to punish the authors of the counter-revolutionary movement which had killed my two brothers. This bold proposal, revealing courage, an extraordinary spirit and patriotism, terrified the representatives, who hastened to repel him. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1835), p. 127-128.

[Napoleon] assured me that Robespierre the Younger had not always held the same opinions as his brother, and that he looked upon himself as in exile when with the Army of Italy. He informed me that a woman of the lower classes, who had been assisted by Robespierre the Younger, had been arraigned before the Revolutionary Tribunal and sentenced to death during his absence from Paris, and that on his return he had expressed disapproval of the sentence , sent for the twelve-year-old son of that woman, clothed him, and admitted him to his table; the boy feeling sad, Ricord commanded him to drink to the health of the Republic, but the lad refused; thereupon Robespierre the Younger, addressing Ricord, said to him: ”Respect such a character. You would not do as much under similar circumstances." It was easy to gather from everything Bonaparte said, anxious as he seemed to speak well of Robespierre the Younger and extol his virtues, that he had a bad cause to defend, and that he was seeking to vindicate the connections he had made. Memoirs of Barras: Member of the Directorate (1895), p. 287. This meeting between Barras and Napoleon took place in 1795.

Bonaparte’s admiration for my elder brother, his friendship for my younger brother, and perhaps also the interest which my misfortunes inspired in him, enabled me to obtain a pension under the consulate. When Bonaparte was First Consul I was advised to ask him for an audience. I had no resources; since the death of my brothers I received the hospitality of my respectable and excellent friend, M. Mathon, who had been their friend and who was from Arras like us. Bonaparte received me perfectly, spoke to me of my brothers in very flattering terms, and told me that he was ready to do everything for their sister: “Speak, what do you want?” he said to me. I explained my position to him; he promised to take it into consideration; in fact, a few days later I received the patent for a pension of 3,600 francs. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1835), p. 129. According to the article Charlotte Robespierre er ses amis (1961), on September 24 1803 we do find a document signed by Napoleon granting Charlotte, not a pension but a ”relief” of first 600 francs and then 150 francs each month for half a year. The decree granting Charlotte a permanent pension of 200 livres per month, dated 1805, was however signed not by Napoleon by rather Fouché, and it is unclear if he did this on his own, Napoleon’s or someone else’s initiative.

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