#vendée war

[amateurvoltaire]

I went to Puy du Fou (1) and watched  'Le Dernier Panache' (2), and needless to say, I've got a few things on my mind. But before I gather my thoughts into something coherent, there’s one pressing issue I need to address: there was NO “extermination” policy in the Vendée.

Is it clear enough for everyone? I sincerely hope so because yesterday, I was among an audience of about 5000 who were shown a scene depicting Robespierre (in yellow), Saint-Just (in turquoise), and Barère (in purple) arguing for the complete destruction of the Vendée… for reasons…

In plain terms, were they advocating for genocide (3)  in the Vendée.

This didn’t happen. In 1793, the idea of a distinct Vendéen identity wasn’t a real thing. The Vendéens were not recognized as a specific regional or ethnic group, not by themselves or anyone else.

Do you know what was real? Brigands rebelling against the first French Republic. What were the policies of extermination targeted towards? Those Brigands. What do you call that? Civil War.

On 1st August 1793, Barère delivered an inflamatory speech (4) that many use to argue the Committee of Public Safety's alleged genocidal intent. His words were indeed unhinged, typical of the era’s rhetoric.

Barère did say, "No more Vendée, no more royalty; no more Vendée, no more aristocracy; no more Vendée, and the enemies of the republic have disappeared," but this infamous line follows a crucial preamble: "We will have peace the day the interior is peaceful, that the rebels are subdued, that the brigands are exterminated. (5)" It’s disingenuous to interpret this as a call to wipe out an entire region (6).

Moreover, this speech was followed by the "Décret relatif aux mesures à prendre contre les rebelles de Vendée", which includes an article (the 8th) stating: "Women, children, and the elderly will be taken inland. Provisions will be made for their subsistence and safety, with all the consideration due to humanity" This directive was actually enforced as evidenced by the 20,000 to 40,000 refugees who the government supported in cities like Poitiers, Orléans, and La Rochelle.

The conservative right in France has been peddling this genocide narrative since the mid-1980s, but no amount of dramatic cursive text with melancholic violin strains will convert fiction into fact.

What happened in the Vendée was horrific. Were there war crimes? Numerous. Was the region scarred by the violence? Undoubtedly. Should we acknowledge that? Of course!  But pushing a theory that is not true detracts from recognising the violence, learning from it and ensuring it will never happen again.

It also cheapens the heroic acts and sacrifices of those who fought not for the narrow political agendas of the 21st century but for causes they truly believed in. The counter-revolutionaries in the Vendée and throughout France were driven by a deep commitment to protect their communities, faith, and way of life. They were not merely victims of a systematic extermination effort but active participants in a struggle to defend their political and religious beliefs (7). Admittedly, I'm not an expert on Charette, but I suspect he would be disturbed to see his legacy so grossly misrepresented…

Notes

(1) Puy du Fou is a historical theme park in the Vendée known for its elaborate live shows that recreate historical events. It has faced criticism for potentially exploiting history and is managed by the Puy du Fou Foundation, linked to its founder, Philippe de Villiers, a French politician noted for his conservative and nationalist views.

(2) This particular show focuses on François Athanase Charette de La Contrie, a Vendean general.

(3) Genocide is defined by the United Nations in the "Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide", adopted on December 9, 1948, as acts committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group.

(4) The conflict in the Vendée began in March 1793, prior to Robespierre's association with the Committee of Public Safety. Danton was the one who was instrumental in shaping the initial response to the uprising and was the president of the Convention during Barère’s speech. Weirdly enough, Danton is nowhere on that stage…

(5) The full qoute is "Nous aurons la paix le jour que l'intérieur sera paisible, que les rebelles seront soumis, que les brigands seront exterminés. Les conquêtes et les perfidies des puissances étrangères seront nulles le jour que le département de la Vendée aura perdu son infâme dénomination et sa population parricide et coupable. Plus de Vendée, plus de royauté ; plus de Vendée, plus d'aristocratie ; plus de Vendée, et les ennemis de la république ont disparu. "

(6) This type of rhetoric was not unique to the Vendée but was also directed at other counter-revolutionary hotspots across France like Brittany, Lyon, Marseille, Avignon, etc.

(7) I'm not a particular fan of those beliefs but I can respect the courage to stand up in defence of a lost cause.

[hejdzz]

The @amateurvoltaire 's very informative response to @aedesluminis 's question made me think of something I have discovered some time ago about Reynald Secher's book and it never ceased to astound me. I wanted to write it in a reply, but it grew up to be quite long, so I think it deserves to be a separate post.

So. As my current interest are the memoirs about the Vendée war (which means I have read quite a few of the primary sources that the historians quote in their books) I would like to add something that could serve as an example of R. Secher's treatment of historical sources. I find it especially jarring, but I'm sure that, unfortunately, one could find many such cases in his book.

On the page 174 of the French edition of his book Secher adds some quotes concerning the horrible treatment of human corpses. He simply states that "a soldier told Comtesse de Bouëre" about that and a page later, he just writes about the other quote that it was a testimony of one of the soldiers. In the notes we find this:

One of the books he cites is L'épopée vendéenne by Gustave Gautherot. We are not going to talk about this book as it is not the primary source (and also I have not read it). However, I'd like to add that the date is wrong and the book was published not in 1837, but in 1913.

The other citation are the Memoirs of Comtesse de Bouëre. This is not a place to fully present her figure, so let's just say that she had lived through the war in the Vendée herself. After her death, she left notes that concerned her own experience of the war, but also the information that she managed to gather during the next 40 years, such as the anecdotes about the victims of the noyades of Nantes and a pretty detailed ethnographic description of the lives of the peasants in the Vendée. They were combined in a book and published by her daughter-in-law in 1890. The part of her memoirs that R. Secher cites is a story of her encounter with a man who was known among his neighbours as an ex-soldier of the Republican army.

Madame de Bouëre asked him some questions about his involvement in the evenements of 1793, and he responded readily, listing numerous atrocities that he claimed to have taken active part in. I'm not going to describe them here, the book can be easily found online. As for Comtesse de Bouëre, she writes how she found herself both appalled and fascinated by the man and his confessions, however towards the end she states that:

...and then she rather soberly adds:

So, she herself states that the man's testimony is not to be fully trusted! And mind it, these fragments are like one page away from the fragments that R. Secher quotes in his book!

So, to sum up, Secher seems to have taken a quote, knowing perfectly that even its original author was not sure about its reliability, and then he put it in his book without stating that it is not reliable, within the context that suggested that it was a testimony like any other. (The other option was that he had taken the quotes from a secondary source, possibly the other one cited, and simply copy pasted them into his book. Also not good.) Any way, this is not how a historian should treat his sources!

[feuillant]

! spoiler alert !

“Vaincre ou Mourir”

[2023]

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François Prudent Hervouët de La Robrie (1773-1795)

royalist officer in the Vendée War, died aged 22.

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[illustratus]

Henri de la Rochejaquelein by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Me again. Your (amazing) post on Camille and Robespierre got me thinking about the ins and outs of the Vieux Cordelier story. There are so many interesting details there , and moments where it could almost have gone a different way. I wondered what your assessment is of Camille’s mindset over this period? Obviously he must have been aware that he was taking a massive risk, but what was the ratio of kamikaze to (possibly deluded) belief he could actually change Robespierre’s mind and thus policy?

If the latter, I feel like that in itself is evidence that they were quite personally close, given “clemency” obviously not the way Robespierre was naturally leaning politically ?

Secondly, to what extent would you say Camille was attempting to back down in numbers 6 and 7, and could it have saved him if he had been willing to so that more fully, or was it just too late at that point?

Finally, somewhat separately, what do we actually know about Danton’s role in the indulgents campaign , and to what extent was Camille his “mouthpiece” ? It often gets phrased that way , but Danton actually comes across as marginal to the stand-off in the textual evidence from Vieux Cordelier itself and the debates in the jacobins around this time. Camille certainly seems to be the main one on the front line. What evidence do we have that Danton wanted him to go through with the riskier numbers of Vieux Cordelier?

Sorry, three to four very wordy questions there…and I’m aware you can’t answer them without a *lot* of guesswork . The whole tale is so fascinating.

In a letter to his father dated August 1 1793 (the last one conserved written by him as a free man) Camille expresses regret over a revolution that has not turned out the way he wanted it, as well as a wish to spend more time with his family:

Where is the asylum, the underground where I could hide from all eyes with my wife, my child and my books? I cannot help but constantly think about the fact that these men who are killed by the thousands have children, also have their fathers who accuse us of their grief, which it would have been so easy to spare them of. At least I have no reason to reproach myself for any of these wars which I have always opposed, nor for this multitude of evils, the fruit of ignorance and blind ambition sitting together at the helm. Farewell. I embrace you. Take care of your health, so that I can hold you against my chest if I am to survive this revolution; although there are times when I am tempted to cry out like Lord Falkland, and go and get myself killed in the Vendée or at the borders to free myself from the spectacle of so many evils and a revolution that to me does not seem to have brought common sense into the council of those who govern the republic and in which I see little else than ambition in place of ambition and greed in place of greed. It is true that freedom of the press is a great remedy whose benefit we owe to the revolution, and there is this advantage in the new regime over knaves, that we can have hanged, and over the ignorant and the intriguers, who we can deliver to ridicule. The state of things, such as it is, is incomparably better than four years ago, because there is hope of improving it, a hope which does not exist under the despotism of which the slaves are condemned like spem bon habent, but it is to the prize of so much bloodshed, that I feel such a sacrifice from the nation’s men should offer it a bigger happiness.

On December 14 1793, he also admitted that, on October 30, the day the Girondins were condemned to death, he had exclaimed: ”they die as republicans, but federalist republicans.” Camille’s accusers the same day did on the other hand declare that the correct quote had been ”they die as republicans, as Brutus,” and in his Les mysterès de la mère de Dieu dévoilès, released a few months after Camille’s death, Joachim Vilate described an even more dramatic reaction from his part:

This led to the account that I gave them of the particularities of the judgment of this case. I observed that I was sitting, with Camille Desmoulins, on the bench placed in front of the jury table. When these returned from deliberation, Camille comes forward to speak to Antonelle, who was one of the last to return. Surprised by the change in his face, he said to him, quite loudly: ”ah my god, I pity you, these are very terrible functions.” Then, hearing the juror's declaration, he suddenly threw himself into my arms, agitated, tormenting himself: ”ah my god, my god, it's me who kills them: my Brissot dévoilé [sic], ah my god, it’s that which kills them.” As the accused returned to hear their judgment, eyes turned towards them. The deepest silence reigned throughout the room, the public prosecutor announced the death penalty, the unfortunate Camille, defeated, losing the use of his senses, let out these words: ”I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I want to leave.” He couldn't exit. […] The late hour of the night, the torches were lit, the judges and the public were tired from a long session, it was midnight, everything gave this scene a dark, imposing and terrible character, nature was suffering in all its ailments. Camille Desmoulins felt worse.

In his 2018 biography, Hervé Leuwers also underlines how Camille throughout the fall of 1793 started to absence himself from both the Convention and the Jacobins, and when in rare instances did take to the floor it was with moderation in mind — on October 16 he and Philippeaux demanded some adjustment to a decree ordering the arrest of all foreigners belonging to countries currently at war with France at the Convention, and on November 26 he warned the Jacobins that "when a man is proscribed by public opinion, he is halfway to the guillotine." (Leuwers does however note a similar absence during the spring of the same year, AKA, the same period Camille was working on the fatal l’Histoire des Brissotins, so this is perhaps a weaker point). All these pieces could hint at the idea Camille’s mindset at the time was that of a a man who had grown disillusioned with the revolution and was willing to try to moderate it (and perhaps atone for some of the bloodshed he had himself contributed to causing?) 

The first number of Le Vieux Cordelier was released on December 5, just two days after a jacobin session where Danton had opposed the idea of sending a group with a guillotine to Seine-Inférieure in order to deal with rebels fleeing the Vendée — ”The Constitution must be asleep, while the people are busy striking their enemies and terrifying them with their revolutionary operations: this is my thought, which will undoubtedly not be slandered; but I ask that we distrust those who want to take the people beyond the limits of the revolution, and who propose ultra-revolutionary measures.” Coupé d’Oise protests against this, arguing that the club must not listen to ”proposals tending to diminish the vigor of the revolutionary movement.” As a consequence, Danton defends his patriotism and asks that a commission be set up to look over his conduct, after which Robespierre stands up as well to take his defence — ”In political matters, I observed him: a difference of opinion between him and me made me observe him carefully, sometimes with anger; and, if he was not always of my opinion, would I conclude that he betrayed his homeland? No, I have seen him always serve it with zeal. Danton wants us to judge him. He's right, let me be judged too. Let them come forward, these men who are more patriotic than us! I bet they are noble, privileged people!”, ending by asking that everyone says what he sincerely thinks about Danton. Aside from Merlin de Thionville, who hails Danton as the saviour of the republic, no one says anything, and Momoro therefore concludes this means no one has anything to accuse Danton of. The discussion therefore ends with the latter embracing the president of the club amidst loud applause. Camille references the session in the number, describing it as the event that caused him to return to the journalistic pen:

Victory is with us because, amid the ruins of so many colossal civic reputations, Robespierre’s in unassailed; because he lent a hand to his competitor in patriotism, our perpetual President of the “Old Cordeliers,” our Horatius Cocles, who alone held the bridge against Lafayette and his four thousand Parisians besieging Marat, who now seemed overwhelmed by the foreign party. Already having gained stronger ground during the illness and absence of Danton, this party, domineering insolent in society, in the midst of the most sensitive places, the most compelling justification, in the tribunes, jeering, and in the middle of the meeting, shaking its head and smiling with pity, as in the speech of a man condemned by every vote. We have won, however, because after the crushing speeches of Robespierre, in which it seems that talent grows in pace with the dangers of the Republic, and the profound impression he has left in souls, it was impossible to venture to raise a voice against Danton without giving, so to speak, a public quittance of guineas of Pitt. […] I learned some things yesterday. I saw how many enemies we have. Their multitude tears me from the Hotel des Invalides and returns me to combat. I must write. I have to leave behind the slow pen of the history of the Revolution I was tracing by the fire side in order to again take up the rapid and breathless pen of the journalist and follow, at full gallop, the revolutionary torrent. A consulting deputy who no one has consulted since June 3, I leave my office and armchair, where I had all the time in the world to follow in detail our enemies’ new system, an overview of which Robespierre laid out to you and which his occupations at the Committee of Public Safety have prevented him, like me, from seizing in its entirety. I feel again what I said a year ago, how wrong I was to put aside the journalistic pen and grant intrigue the time to adulterate the opinions of the departments and corrupt that immense sea by means of a mass of journals, like many rivers that ceaselessly bringing poisoned water. We no longer have any journals that tell the truth, or at least the whole truth. I return to the arena with all of my well-known honesty and courage.

To say something about Camille’s mindset based off of this first number, it can in other words be concluded that he by this point is on the side of both Danton and Robespierre, wanting to aid them in a fight against ”a foreign party,” that he doesn’t specify much about, but that, through the jacobin session that he claims inspired him so much, can be deciphed as ”ultra-revolutionaries.” Camille also, like in the letter to his father four months earlier, takes a stand in favor of freedom of the press — ”Let no one tell me that we are in a revolution and that the freedom of the press must be suspended during a revolution.”

In the second number of Vieux Cordelier, released five days later on December 10, Camille praises three speeches Robespierre has held in the meantime. Two of them were smaller interventions on December 5 and December 6 that were both about, and in favour of, liberty of cults. The third speech was the ”Response of the National Convention to the manifesto of the united kings against the republic,” read, in the name of the Committee of Public Safety, by Robespierre on December 5 as well. In it, he defended the French people, accused of ”rebellion, immorality and irreligion” by said united kings. Robespierre argued that it was in fact they themselves that were guilty of these vices and insisted on the French people’s wish for freedom of religion:

Your masters tell you that the French nation has proscribed all religions, that it has substituted the worship of a few men for that of the Divinity; they paint us in your eyes as an idolatrous or foolish people. They are lying: the French people and their representatives respect the freedom of all religions, and do not proscribe any of them.

Camille joins Robespierre’s side, openly taking a stand against those pushing for extreme dechristianization:

Finally, Robespierre, in his first speech which the Convention has decreed to dispatch to all of Europe, has lifted the veil. It suited his courage and his popularity to adroitly slip in, as he did, the great and salutary statement that Pitt had changed his batteries; that he undertook to do by exaggeration what he could not do by moderation, and that there are men, patriotically counter-revolutionary, who worked to form, like Roland, public spirit and push public opinion in the opposition direction - but to a different extreme, equally fatal to liberty.  Since then, in two speeches no less eloquent to the Jacobins, he has expressed himself with still greater vehemence against the intruders who, through perfidious and exclusive praises, flattered themselves by detaching him from all of his old comrades-in-arms and the sacred battalion of the Cordeliers, with whom he had so often defeated the royal army.  To the shame of priests, he defended the God that they abandoned so cowardly. By rendering justice to those who, like the priest Meslier, renounced their profession because of philosophy, he put in their place those hypocrites of religion, who, having become priests for the sake of rich meals, were not ashamed to publish their own ignominy, in accusing themselves of having for a long time been vile charlatans, and coming to tell us at the bar: ”Citizens, I lied for sixty years for the sake of my stomach.”

He nevertheless also underlines that he is against this not because he himself is religious, but because he sees it as a counterproductive method for fighting superstition:

Certainly I am not a sanctimonious hypocrite or a champion of priests. […] I have always thought that at least the clergy should be cut off from the body politic; but for that it was enough to abandon Catholicism to its decrepitude and to let it end with its beautiful death, which was soon approaching. It was enough to let reason and ridicule act on the understanding of peoples and, with Montaigne, to look at churches as houses of fools which had been allowed to subsist until reason had made enough progress, lest the madmen become angry.

For the first time ever the journal also denounces someone by name, in this instance Jean-Baptiste ”Anacharsis” Cloots and Pierre-Gaspard ”Anaxagoras” Chaumette, attacked for their push for dechristianization:

Anacharsis and Anaxagoras believe they are pushing the wheel of reason when in fact it is that of counter-revolution; and soon, instead of letting papism in France die of old age and starvation, ready to breathe its last breath without giving our enemies any advantage, since the treasure of the sacristies could not escape Cambon by persecution and intolerance against those who wish to liturgy and be liturgied, I urge to you to send a force of constitutional recruits to Lescure and Roche-Jacquelin.

This is also the number of Vieux Cordelier we know with almost certainty Robespierre had gotten to proofread before it got sent to the printer. On December 12, Robespierre also continued the attack Camille had started two days earlier as he got Cloots expelled from the Jacobins when the latter passed through its scrutiny test — ”Cloots, you spend your life with our enemies, with the agents and spies of foreign powers; like them, you are a traitor who must be watched.” When, two days later, the turn had come to Camille to go through the very same examination, Robespierre also helped him pass it and encouraged him to keep writing his journal — ”[Camille’s] energetic and easy pen can still serve [the revolution] usefully, but, more circumspect in the choice of his friends, he must break all pacts with impiety, that is to say, with the aristocracy; under these conditions, I request the admission of Camille Desmoulins.” With all this added together, I would say number 2 of the Vieux Cordelier is the biggest example of ”journalism on the terms of the governance” there is throughout Camille’s entire career.

In number 3, released December 18, Camille begins by bringing the reader back to the Roman Empire, in particular, the reigns of Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula and Nero, a time during which, according to the historian Tacitus, there existed ”a law which specified crimes of the state and lèse-majesté and imposed upon them capital punishment. […] As soon as remarks became crimes of the State, it was only a small step to transform into crimes simple glances, sadness, compassion, sighs, even silence.” Camille then goes on to describe how, under this law, people could be rendered ”suspect” for just about anything — from being rich to being poor, from being melancoly to being happy, from being introverted to being extroverted, from being a poet to being a military man, from holding a high post to resigning from said post. Even positive attributes, such as being virtuous, incorruptible or an ally of Augustus could result in being rendered guilty of ”counter-revolution,” resulting in a visit from the doctor who then got ”to choose, within twenty-four hours, the sort of death they liked best.”

But, and this is something both contemporaries and modern historians often have missed, Camille then makes sure to underline this lengthty description of a tyrannical reign is not at all meant as an allusion to France’s current state — ”let no one say, for instance, that in this third number and in my translation of Tacitus malignity will find similarities between those deplorable times and our own. I know this well, and it is to put an end to these rapprochements, it is so that liberty does not resemble despotism, that I have armed myself with my pen” — but to France under the ancien régime: ”Do not let the royalists tell me that this description tells us nothing, and that the reign of Louis XVI did not resemble that of the Caesars.” As examples, he cites the massacre of the Champ-de-Mars, the Nancy affair, the war in the Vendée, the ”horrors” committed in France by the English and Austrian armies. In this ”fight to the death between the Republic and the monarchy” Camille defends the revolutionary government and its institutions, objecting against British prime minister William Pitt who ”has made every effort to give our liberty the attitude of tyranny and thus turn against us the reason and humanity of the eighteenth century.” The revolutionary tribunal, he argues, has not sentenced any innocent people to death:

Despite so many guineas, can one cite to me, asked Danton, a single man, strongly pronounced in the Revolution and in favor of the Republic, who has been condemned to death by the revolutionary tribunal? The revolutionary tribunal, of Paris at least, when it saw false witnesses slipping into its bosom and putting the innocent in danger hastened to subject them to the penalty of retribution. It is true that it has condemned persons for words and writings. But, to begin with, can one regard as mere words the cry of Vive le Roi, that provocative cry of sedition that even the ancient law of the Roman republic that I have quoted would have punished with death? Second, it is in the melee of a revolution that the tribunal has to judge political crimes; and even those who believe that it is not exempt from errors owe it this justice, that in matters of writing it is more attached to the intention than to the corpus delicti; and when it was not convinced that the intention was counter-revolutionary, it has never failed to set free not only one who had spoken words or published writings, but even one who had emigrated.

The Committee of Public Safety in its turn excused for its more drastic measures, such as the suspension of the Constitution, on the grounds that the times demand it:

The Committee of Public Safety believed that to establish the Republic it needed for a time the jurisprudence of despots. It thought, with Machiavelli, that in cases of political conscience the greater good erased the lesser evil; it therefore veiled liberty’s statue for some time. But will this transparent veil of gauze be confused with the thick vellum of the Cloots, the Coupes, the Montauts, that funerary pall under which it is impossible recognize the principles in their casket? Will we confuse the Constitution, daughter of the Montagne, with the superfluities of Pitt; the errors of patriotism with the crimes of the foreign party; the public prosecutor's indictments on certificates of citizenship, on the closing of churches, and the definition of “suspect persons,” with the protective decrees of the Convention, which have maintained freedom of worship and principles?

Before putting forward that the biggest threat of them all is ”what Marat would have called the conspiracy of dopes: I speak of those men who, with the best intentions in the world, are strangers to all political ideas, and, if I may express myself thus, are scoundrels of stupidity and pride, and, because they belong to such and such a committee or they occupy this or that eminent place, hardly suffer that one speaks to them,” Camille also argued that, in the state of things, both moderation and exaggeration had to be avoided, but, if forced to choose, the latter would be the better alternative:

Those who judge the founders of the Republic so harshly do not put themselves in their place. See between what precipices we walk. On one side is the exaggeration of the moustaches, which does not care if, through its ultra-revolutionary measures, we should become the horror and the laughingstock of Europe; on the other side is moderation in mourning, which, seeing the old Cordeliers rowing towards common sense and trying to avoid the current of exaggeration, yesterday with an army of women laid siege to the Committee of General Security, and, taking me by the collar as I happened upon them by chance, claimed that, during the day, the Convention would open all the prisons, letting us loose under our feet – along with a certain number, it is true, of good citizens – a multitude of counter-revolutionaries, enraged by their detention. […]  In this dual between liberty and servitude, and in the cruel alternative of a defeat a thousand times bloodier than our victory, “exaggerating the Revolution had less peril and greater value than falling short,” as Danton said, and the most critical necessity has been that the Republic secure victory on the battlefield.

Camille also once again makes a case for unlimited liberty of the press:

I hope the freedom of the press will be reborn in entirety. The best minds of the Convention were strangely deceived on the pretended danger of such freedom. It is intended that terror be the order of the day, that is to say the terror of bad citizens: so there we apply the freedom of the press, as it is the terror of scoundrels and counter-revolutionaries. […] I will die of the opinion that, to make France republican, happy, and flourishing, a little ink and a single guillotine would have sufficed. […] As long as unlimited freedom of the press has existed, it has been easy for us to foresee everything, to prevent everything. Freedom, truth, common sense have defeated slavery, stupidity, and lies, wherever they have found them.

As for people brought up by Camille in the number, Philippeaux is praised for his most recent publication Philippeaux, représentant du peuple, au Comité de salut public, released two weeks earlier, in which he critiques the war in the Vendée, claiming all the good generals have been dismissed while the ”traitor” Beysser, the ”imbecile” Rossignol and ”intriguer,” ”thief” and ”liar” Ronsin are encouraged and showered with honors. Unlike Desmoulins, Philippeaux also critiqued the revolutionary government, even reproaching CPS member Barère for having countermanded his request to put together a commission to investigate the situation a few weeks earlier. This pamphlet, Camille writes, is a ”truly salvatory writing” filled with ”dreadful truths,” even if one also can reproach the author ”for having misunderstood the great services of the Committee of Public Safety.” Minister of war George Bouchotte and Secretary General of the war ministry François-Nicolas Vincent are on the other hand denounced, Vincent getting called ”the Pitt of George Bouchotte,” and Camille writes that men like them should ”hasten to correct their conduct, [those] who, on reading these vivid depictions of tyranny, find in them some unfortunate resemblance to themselves.” Early in the number he also mentions Hébert, but not in the negative terms one might expect. Camille instead writes ”This, that the reign of Astraea may return, is why I take up my pen again; I wish to help Le Père Duchesne enlighten my fellow citizens and spread the seeds of public happiness.”

So taken that Camille is being sincere here, his mindset is still that of someone willing to support and defend the Committee of Public Safety, albeit while very moderately warning of people who wish to go even further.

Following the publication of number 3, Camille did however end up under open attack, the first time on December 21, when the printer Léopold Nicolas told the jacobins that ”I accuse him of having made a libel with criminal and counter-revolutionary intentions. I appeal to those who have read it. Camille Desmoulins has for a long time been on the verge of the guillotine.” Nicolas then also denounced Desmoulins for having come to the Surveillance committee of Paris where he worked to demand the release of one Vaillant, held suspect for his ties to aristocrats and hiding counterrevolutionaries, going so far as to threatening with denouncing the committee to the Committee of General Security if Vaillant was not set free. On these grounds, Nicolas asked that Camille be expelled from the club. Later the same session Hébert too took to the floor and denounced both Camille, his few months old Lettre de Camille Desmoulins, député de Paris à la Convention, au général Dillon en prison aux Madelonettes as well as number 3 of the Vieux Cordelier: 

Ever since [Desmoulins] married a rich woman, he only lives with arisocrats, of which he is often the protector. He has written in favor of Dillon, whom he compared to Turenne, and he did not hold it against him that the Convention entrust him with command of all the armies of the Republic. Camille Desmoulins has picked up his pen again, and in a journal he occupies himself with ridiculing the patriots. In his third number, he has the infamy to say that Georges Bouchotte is governed by Pitt-Vincent: Bouchotte, who has never breathed except for the happiness of his fellow citizens, Bouchotte, to whom we cannot reproach for the slightest fault, Bouchotte, to whom we owe the appointment of the sans-culottes generals who will finally deliver us from the rebels of Vendée, seeing himself compared to an imbecile, to King George!

Hébert also denounced Philippeaux for his pamphlet and Fabre d’Églantine for being ”the kingpin of all these complots” (it was Fabre who on December 17 had obtained the arrest of the Vincent Camille denounced in number 2, along with Maillard and Ronsin, two other ”hébertist”) asking that the three plus Bourdon d’Oise be expelled from the club. The club ended up declaring that they be invited to explain themselves for the next session. 

The second attack took place on December 23 and was launched by the recently returned from Lyon Collot d’Herbois, who seems to have read Camille’s allusion to the terror under the Roman emperors as a critique of the Committee of Public Safety: ”What! people attack the Committee of Public Safety with libels! It is accused of having shed the blood of patriots! It gets blamed for the death of fifty thousand men! And you believe that the authors of these writings did them in good faith? Do you believe that men who translate ancient historians for you, who go back five hundred years to give you a picture of the times in which you live, are patriotic? No, the man who is forced to go back so far will never be at the level of the Revolution.” Right after him, an unknown citizen declared that ”the system of moderation one wants to establish will lead to disastrous results,” and regretted the fact Camille — ”this man who dated to say that he had felt pity over the fate of the girondins” — had passed the jacobins’ scrutiny test a week earlier. He ended by proposing ”that we demand the judgment of any man who is moved by the fate of the conspirators.”

Camille had no time to respond to these three attacks before number 4 of the Vieux Cordelier was released on December 24. He starts by regretting the fact that ”some people have disapproved of my third number, where, they allege, I have been pleased to make comparisons which tend to throw the Republic and patriots into disfavour; they should, however, say the excesses of the Revolution and the patriots of industry,” as well as the idea that ”the present state is not that of liberty; but that of patience, you will be free later.” Camille disagrees with this, arguing that liberty isn’t something that needs to mature, but something concreate that you either have or do not have. He then rather quickly puts forth this radical proposal:

Open the prisons of those two hundred thousand citizens whom you call “suspects,” for in the Declaration of Rights there was no prison for suspected persons, but only for felons. Suspicion has no prison, it has the public prosecutor; there are no suspected persons but those who are accused of crime by the law. Do not believe that this measure would be fatal to the Republic; it would be the most revolutionary step you have ever taken. […] I am of a very different opinion from those who claim that it is necessary to leave terror as the order of the day. I am confident, on the contrary, that liberty will be assured and Europe conquered as soon as you have a Committee of Clemency. This committee will complete the Revolution, for clemency is itself a revolutionary measure, the most effective of all when it is wisely dealt out. Let imbeciles and rascals call me moderate, if they want to. I am certainly not ashamed to be no more of an enragé than M. Brutus; yet this is what Brutus wrote: You would do better, my dear Cicero, to put more effort into cutting short the civil wars than in losing your temper and pursuing your personal resentments against the vanquished. […] the establishment of a Committee of Clemency seems to me a grand idea and worthy of the French people, erasing from its memory many faults, since it has erased the very time they were committed and created a new era from which it alone dates its birth and memories. At this expression of a Committee of Clemency, what patriot does not feel his heart moved? For patriotism consists in the plentitude of every virtue, and therefore cannot exist where there is neither humanity nor philanthropy but a soul parched and dried by selfishness.

While Desmoulins is quick to point out that he is by no means asking for a general amnesty — ”To the back of the line with the motion of amnesty! A blind and general indulgence would be counter-revolutionary, or at least it would present the greatest danger and be obviously impolitic” — it can nevertheless be asked how he could suddenly produce such a drastic call for clemency in a journal that up until this point has been quite meek when it comes to questioning the current state of things. To understand this, it is important to note an event that took place four days before the number was released. On December 20, Robespierre had laid out the idea of so called ”committees of justice” to the Convention, after a group of women had arrived there to beg for clemency for their imprisoned relatives. While it should be noted that he did this with much less enthusiasm compared to Camille, making sure to state that the majority of prisoners were indeed locked up for a reason and throwing suspicion on the forceful attitude of the women, underlining that ”virtuous and republican wives […] address themselves in particular and with modesty to those who are responsible for the interests of the homeland,” the decree he then went on to propose sounds a bit too coherent to just have been pulled out of thin air due to the pressure:

The National Convention decrees, 1. that the Committees of Public Safety and General Security will appoint commissioners to seek means of releasing patriots who could have been incarcerated; 2. the commissioners will bring, in the exercise of their functions, the necessary severity so as not to hinder the energy of the revolutionary measures ordered by the salvation of the homeland; 3. the names of these commissioners will remain unknown to the public to avoid the dangers of solicitations; 4. they will not be able to release anyone on their own authority: they will only propose the results of their research to the two Committees, which will decide definitively on the release of people who appear to them to have been unjustly arrested...

Camille mentions this proposal in number 4, arguing that it’s possible to go further: ”Already you (Robespierre) have closely approached this idea, in the measure you caused to be decreed yesterday in the meeting of the week of 30 Frimaire. It is true that it was rather a Committee of Justice which was proposed. But why should clemency be a crime in the Republic?” That Camille had been influenced by Robespierre’s justice committee also goes along well with what he had to say about the committees of clemency during his trial:

The president: And these committees of clemency that you asked for, what was your motive for showing that much humanity? Desmoulins: I did nothing more than what the warmest patriots had already showed me the example of. I asked for three windows for the incarcerated patriots, and others before me had asked for six. In regards to Dillon, of whom I am accused of having been the defender, I answer that I asked for nothing other than to judge him promptly. I said: judge him; if he is guilty, then punish him; but if he is innocent, hasten to restore his rights as a citizen.

With the committees of justice in mind, I don’t think you can use Camille appealing to Robespierre in particular when talking about a clemency committee as evidence of their strong bond. That said, the fact alone that Camille openly implored Robespierre in person when laying out his proposal I think still proves a certain closeness between the two, considering these words would not have come off as particularly genuine had the two only been superficial acquaintances:

O! my dear Robespierre! It is to you I address these words, for I have seen the moment when Pitt had only you to conquer, where without you the ship Argo would have perished, the Republic would have entered into chaos, and the society of Jacobins and the Mountain would have become a tower of Babel. O my old college comrade! You whose eloquent words posterity will reread! Remember the lessons of history and philosophy: that love is stronger, more enduring than fear; that admiration and religion were born of generosity; that acts of clemency are the ladder of myth, as was said by Tertullian, by which members of the Committee of Public Safety are raised to the skies, and that men never climb thither on stairs of blood.

Like number 3, number 4 earned Camille open attacks from other prominent revolutionaries on two seperate occasions. The first took place on December 26, two days after the release. Barère then denounced Desmoulins (without mentioning him by name) when he, in a report held in the name of the CPS, warned of ”periodical writers who […] revive the counter-revolutionaries, and warm the ashes of the aristocracy.” Like Collot earlier, Barère had him too read the part about tyrannical reigns under Roman emperors in number 3 as a critique of the revolutionary government, underlining that it is actually correct to label both priest, noble, banker, stranger etc, etc as ”suspect.” Barère did however wish to absolve Desmoulins somewhat, adding that he was doing what he was doing ”unknowingly and perhaps unintentionally.” Later in the same report Barère also followed up Robespierre’s proposal of a committee of justice with suggesting even bigger measures, both Robespierre and Billaud-Varennes objected to it, and proposed they stick to the original proposal. Then on December 31, right after an anonymous jacobin had demanded ”journalist Camille Desmoulins” be struck from the jacobins’ list of members, Hébert cried out that ”all the things that can be used against Brissot aren’t even close to what you can reproach Camille for” and repeated his wish that ”Bourdon de l’Oise, Fabre d’Eglantine and Camille Desmoulins must be chased out from this society.” Hébert also attacked Desmoulins for his call for clemency in number 328 of his journal Père Dushesne, accusing him of being in the pay of Pitt.

Number 5 of the Vieux Cordelier, the longest of them all, released on January 5 1794 and entitled Camille Desmoulins’ great speech in defense to the Jacobins, Desmoulins spent almost only on responding to the different attacks made against him over the past two weeks. He begins by once again underlining that ”the ship of the republic drifts between two reefs, moderation and extremism,”and reminding the reader of what he wrote in number 3 —  ”I have said, with Danton, that to exaggerate the revolution had fewer dangers and was better than to fall short; on the course set by the ship of state it was more often necessary to come close to the rocks of extremism than the sandbank of moderation.” However, with the recent attacks from, as he calls them, ”ungrateful sons,” for the first time, Camille openly states he wants to fight extremism:

But see how Père Duchesne and nearly all the patriot sentinels stand on the deck with their telescope only concerned with crying: Watch out! You are touching moderation! It has been necessary for me, old Cordelier and senior Jacobin, to take charge of the difficult duty which none of the younger people wanted, fearing loss of popularity, that of crying: Beware! You are going to touch extremism! And there is the duty which my colleagues in Convention gave me, that of sacrificing my own popularity to save the ship in which my cargo was no stronger than theirs.

Desmoulins first takes on Nicolas, defending his defence of his cousin Vaillant who, he claims, was denounced only for having giving dinner to a citizen and letting him pass the night at his house. He points out that Andre Dumont, the man who granted the requests that Vaillant be set free ”is not yet suspected of moderatism.” […] ”If I come close to the guillotine for having requested my relative’s freedom for such a minor peccadillo, what will you do to Andre Dumont, who granted the request? Is it fitting that a member of the Revolutionary Tribunal should be so lightly sent to the guillotine?” He also accuses Nicolas of in the recent month having obtained more than 150 000 francs by the revolutionary tribunal for his printing, ”while I, whom he accuses have not increased my savings by a denier,” as well as of having become corrupted by ”having the power of life and death in his own hands” after having been elected juror on the Revolutionary Tribunal.

Turning to Collot d’Herbois, Camille brings up the fact he has already turned out to be in the wrong in several instances before, and that he could prove him so once more — ”if I wanted to retaliate against Collot I would only have to let my pen fly, armed with facts more powerful than his denunciation.” He does however choose to ”bury my resentment of Collot’s attack,” confining himself to warning his ”colleague” to not be misled by the flatteries of Hébert (who in Père Duchesne had been very positive towards Collot and his activities in Lyon). Camille cites ”the interests of the homeland” as the official reason for why he’s going easy on Collot, reminding the reader of the things he has done for the revolution, but it might be suspected the risk of outright attacking a member of the Committee of Public Safety it too has played a considerable role here…

Camille goes harder on Barère, accusing him of having ”darkened my ideas,” by telling the Convention that he doesn’t recognize that there exists suspect people. ”If Barère had quoted me, if at least he had said that I shared his opinion, even the most suspicious republicans would have seen that I too wanted houses of suspicion, and that I only differed in opinion on the reporting of suspects.” He also reminds Barère of some things he himself can be reproached for:

Had it been an old Cordelier like myself, a straight-lined patriot, Billaud-Varennes for example, who had punished me so harshly, I would have said: It is the blow of the fiery Saint Paul to the good Saint Peter who had sinned! But you, my dear Barère! You, happy guardian of Paméla! You, the presidents of the Feuillants! You who proposed the committee of 12, you who, on June 2, put into deliberation in the Committee of Public Safety whether Danton should be arrested! you, of whom I could point out many other faults, […] it’s you who accuses me of moderation!

He nevertheless writes that he is ready to forget this as well — ”I also do you justice, Barère; I love your talent, your services, and I also proclaim your patriotism” — and claims the recent controversies with the two CPS members is simply ”a domestic quarrel with my friends the patriots Collot and Barère.”

The biggest amount of time is spent dealing with Hébert, and here there are on the other hand no kind words spared, instead Camille warns him that he’s going to ”unmask you like I unmasked Brissot.” He reproaches Hébert both for speaking ill of Barras, Fréron and La Poype, all currently on mission in Toulon, praising the by now imprisoned general Carteaux, as well as for the coarse language used by him in Père Duchesne, and accuses him of writing for the aristocrats and persecuring Marat in 1790 and 1791, of having been fired from his job at the theater for theft, and even of having opposed the Insurrection of August 10. He turns Hébert’s claim that he would be in Pitt’s pay back against him, no, it is Hébert himself who ”has been made Brissot’s successor by the agents of Pitt.” He is also ”a scoundrel degrading the French people and the Convention,” and a ”politician without opinions and the most foolish of the patriots if he is not the most cunning of the aristocrats.” To return Hébert’s charge about keeping company with aristocrats, Camille writes that ”the cockroach’s” own social circle includes one femme Rochechouart, ”an agent of the émigrés,” as well as the Dutch banker Kocke — ”an intimate of Dumouriez.” To return his charge about having married a rich woman, Camille writes he only obtained 4000 livres de rentes from her (which btw is a massive understatement), and ends the number by opposing this with an extract from the National Treasury detailing the sums received by Hébert since the summer — 135 000 livres on June 2, 10 000 livres in August and 60 000 livres in October.

Camille also firmly defends himself against those doubting his patriotism and even calling him a conspirator — ”It is true citizens; for five years I have conspired to make republican France happy and flourishing.” He reminds the reader of the fact he wrote verses ridiculing the monarchy already before the revolution. After giving a detailed description of his Great Table Standing Moment of July 12 1789, Camille writes he defies anyone to find a single phrase in the writings he has since produced ”where I depart from republican principles, or deviate from a single line of The Declaration of Rights.” He furthermore adds that no one will be able to ”cite a single conspirator whose mask I did not rip away well before he fell. I have always been six or even eighteen months ahead of public opinion,” something which becomes even more impressive given the fact most of these men had been his personal friends. He ends by imploring the reader ”to recognise your old friends and ask your new ones who accuse me if they find a single one amongst them who could merit such a right to your confidence.” 

Camille also once again both defends and takes cover behind Robespierre by tying the two together as much as possible. He underlines that the dangers of touching extremism ”have already been recognized by Robespierre and even Billaud-Varennes.” When defending his works over the past five years he writes that he has never stopped conspiring against the tyrants ”with Danton and Robespierre.” He points out that, if it is a crime to have defended Dillon like he has, ”there is no reason why Robespierre is not a criminal too, for having defended Camille Desmoulins who defended Dillon.” When responding to Nicolas, Desmoulins underlines that the latter is still a good patriot, given his status as friend, companion and bodyguard of Robespierre. But he also asks why then Nicolas has chosen to listen more to ”what is said [about me] in certain bureaus” rather than the defence given of him on December 14 by Robespierre, ”who has followed me almost since childhood. […] Tell me of anyone who could make a better recommendation?”

The very same day the number was released, Collot d’Herbois went to the Jacobins to speak about the recent writings of Philippeaux and Desmoulins. Similar to the way Camille wrote about Collot in the most recent number, Collot regrets the Vieux Cordelier, saying it has ”lent weapons to the aristocrats,” but seperates the author from his works, reminding the Jacobins of all his past great services to the revolution. He opposes Hébert’s recent demands of expelling Desmoulins from the Jacobins, contenting himself with asking that the numbers be censored, and even appears to give in to his appeals for a committee to look over the suspects — ”I wrap up by demanding that Philippeaux be expelled from the Jacobins, the numbers of Camille Desmoulins censored, and that the Committee of General Security report as quickly as possible on incarcerated patriots.” When the president reads aloud a letter from Desmoulins announcing the release of number 5 of the Vieux Cordelier, Collot quickly responds that he’s not there to talk about it. A bit later into the session, Hébert does however disagree, exclaiming: ”I have been accused, in a libel that was released today, of being a daring brigand, a despoiler of the public fortune.” Camille responds that he has in his hand the extracts from the National Treasury published at the the end of the number, proving this charge true. But just as Hébert is about to counterattack, Augustin Robespierre interrupts, regretting the quarrels infecting the club that were not there when he left on a mission five months earlier, asking that Hébert respond to Camille in his journal instead of here. His brother does however disagree, declaring that Camille interrupted the session as much as Hébert ”claiming to have proof, when maybe that’s not the case.” He then invites the club to ”leave the intrigues and focus only on the interests of the homeland.”

At the next session, held January 7, Camille invited those that held anything against him to search in the numbers of his journal the answers to all their denounciations. When an unspecified person asked that he explain himself regarding the praise he had given Philippeaux in number 3, Camille responded that he had been mistaken and no longer believed what the latter — ”the most insolent of liars” — had written in the pamphlet. Immediately after this, Robespierre attacks Desmoulins, calling his writings ”the pain of patriots and the joy of aristocrats.” Robespierre mainly reproaches Camille for his number 3, asking, like Collot and Barère before him, if its ”translation of Tacitus isn’t in fact piquant satyrs of the present government and of the Convention,” and mocking the praise given to Philippeaux in it — ”What is the charm that excited him about this man? What is this blind confidence which may have induced Desmoulins to make a pernicious alliance of his newspaper with the libels of Philippeaux against the revolutionary government and against the patriots?” He also breifly condemns number 5 for the ”indecent diatribes lavished on several members of the Convention,” before, again like Barère and Collot, seperating author from work and asking that the numbers of the Vieux Cordelier ”just” be burned in the middle of the room. When Desmoulins refuses this ultimatum, Robespierre asks that the numbers be answered instead, and the club reads aloud number 4 and schedules for number 3 and 5 the next session, where Camille will also justify himself. But he is not confirmed to have shown up at the club for the occasion, or ever again at all following this moment.

The short number 6 of the Vieux Cordelier is not released until three weeks later, January 30. Desmoulins opens with the following citation: ”Camille-Desmoulins has indulged in a riot of wit with the aristocrats, but he is still a good republican, and it is impossible for him to be anything else” words he describes as an ”attestation of Collot d'Herbois and Robespierre, session of the Jacobins.” A clear indication Camille is trying to get on the Committee of Public Safety’s good side again, or at least remind its members of what they’ve thought about him in the very recent past. Camille then declares that he now wants to publish his ”political profession of faith,” in order to once and for all shut the mouths of all his caluminators. He reminds the reader that he’s always the same patriot and that the Vieux Cordelier breaths the same ideas as all his previous works:

We see that what one today calls moderantism in my journal, is my old system of utopia. We see that all my fault is to have remained at my death of July 12, 1789, and not to have grown an inch any more than Adam; all my fault is in having preserved the old errors of La France Libre, of La Lanterne, of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, of La Tribune des Patriotes, and of not being able to renounce the charms of my Republic of Cocagne.

Throughout the number he quotes passages from his earlier works, starting with a citation found in his La France Libre, released in July 1789 — “popular government and democracy is the only constitution that suits France and all those who are not unworthy of the name of man.” Four and a half years later, Camille writes, he still believes the same thing to be the case. He adds that he thinks two people can be divided in regards to which measures are the best for saving the republic, like Brutus and Cicero, or more recently like him and Marat. But while safeguarding this right to opinion, he appears to take a step back from his fervent defence of liberty of the press that, as can be seen, has been a theme of his convictions since the August letter to his father:

I believe that a representative is no more infallible than inviolable. Even if the salvation of the people should, in a moment of revolution, restrict freedom of the press to citizens, I believe that we can never take away from a deputy the right to express his opinion; I believe he must be allowed to be wrong; that it is in consideration of its errors that the French people have such a large number of representatives, so that those of some can be corrected by others. 

Immediately after this, Desmoulins also takes a step back in regards to the committee of clemency asked for in number 4. He insists that it was actually a committee of justice he meant, and that the notes and the opening parenthesis included in the number make that clear. He reveals that he’s been reprimanded for the idea by Fréron, who in a recent letter from Toulon had told Lucile to ”tell [Camille] to keep his imagination in check a little with respect to a committee of clemency. It would be a triumph for the counter-revolutionaries.” Camille responds to Fréron in the journal, underlining that he’s not talking about Toulon, where clemency is clearly ”out of season,” when asking for such a committee, but that it’s Paris that could use ”the bridle of the Vieux Cordelier.” To give an example of what he means, he mentions the recent arrest of his father-in-law, held suspect for a few discarded objects imprinted with fleur-de-lis found in his house. This, says Camille, is quite ironic considering his father-in-law is ”the most ultra sixty-year-old I have yet seen,” ”the Père Duchesne of the house,” who would always go on about how only conspirators and aristocrats were arrested and the guillotine too idle.

Camille fully refutes those who think the content of number 3 and 4 is due to the ”influence” of someone else, in particular Fabre and Philippeaux. People who say that, writes Camille, ”do not know the untamed independence of my pen, which only belongs to the republic, and perhaps a little to my imagination and its deviations, if you like, but not to the ascendancy and influence of anyone.” But early in the number he also appears to show his disapproval of the fact Fabre since a month back has been imprisoned, remarking that ”the immortal author of Philinth” has been accused of counterfeiting and that ”today 24 nivôse, […] Fabre d'Églantine, the inventor of the new calendar, has just been sent to Luxembourg, before having seen the fourth month of his republican year.”

Desmoulins quite quickly wraps up, saying that ”I am obliged to postpone the rest of my political credo until another day,” as he wishes for his future numbers to be shorter in order to lower the prize of the journal. The fact that the long number 5 cost as much as twenty sous is what caused no sans-culotte to read it, which in it’s turn caused Hébert to reign supreme. He does however also leave a PS note, where he corrects some errors Hébert wrote about him in Père Dushesne in the wake of the last number of the Vieux Cordelier, before declaring that he’s happy Robespierre’s call on January 8 to focus on the crimes of the English government instead of the two journalists appears to have put an end to their struggles.

Why is there such a big gap between numbers 5 and 6 and why is the latter suddenly much meeker? The simple answer is course that we will never know for sure, Camille’s lack of personal correspondence during this period certainly not helping. The only thing I know of hinting at a motivation is the letter Lucile wrote to Robespierre after her husband’s arrest, where she claims that ”this hand which has pressed yours has left the pen before its time, once it could no longer hold it to trace your praise.” Lucile’s words should of course be taken with a grain of salt given that her goal with the letter is to save Camille’s life, but the idea that he got sick of the Vieux Cordelier once he realized Robespierre no longer had his back is still one I don’t think should be completely tossed aside. After all, checking his track record, whose errands did he most often run? His first journal Révolutions de France et de Brabant (1789-1791) hailed Robespierre as its number 1 champion, even more than for example Pétion and Buzot whose fame and influence at the time were pretty equal to his. When all of Paris gets caught in a war frenzie in December 1791 and forward, it is Desmoulins who sticks by Robespierre’s side in his fight against it and the soon to be ”girondins,” attacking Brissot in Jean Pierre Brissot démasqué (February 1792) and then starting a whole journal, La Tribune des Patriotes (April 1792) to act as a defence of him (”Fréron and I will not abandon you in the breach, in the midst of a cloud of enemies.”) When he the next year delivers the final blow to the ”faction” with l’Histoire des Brissotins, it is Robespierre who gets to proofread it, and finally, when we get to the Vieux Cordelier a few months later, it is again Robespierre (and not Danton) whose involvement we have the best evidence of. Suffice to say, Robespierre’s opinion obviously matterad a lot to Camille, and so for him to lose enthusiasm after Robespierre openly humiliates his journal (that he had originally supported) doesn’t sound like that impossible of an explanatory model. Not only that, but Robespierre’s support also served as a protection from critique, a support that was obviously quite important did you wish to keep your reputation and even head. Like you say, Camille must have known he was taking a risk by expressing himself the way he did. Now that his ideas are not getting through and he’s losing the support so vital for his safety, he might have fallen back on the fact that he had a young family to take care of and decided to back down a bit for that reason.

Uncertainty also seems to have reigned over the seventh and final number of the Vieux Cordelier, the one that Camille would never see the release of. According to Hervé Leuwers’ biography (and I’m going off completely on what he writes for this number so that we can finally get this thing over with), three drafts exists of this number. The first one is a severe critique of the revolutionary government that Camille nevertheless persists in claiming he still accepts. He is indignant over the conditions of the detained suspects, denounces the impolitic “annihilation” of Lyon, considers the closure of “bawdy houses at the same time as those of religion” as an entourage to the counter-revolution, expresses worry over the broad powers of the Committee of Public Safety and criticizes Barère and Collot d’Herbois. This draft does however gets scrapped for a second one (Leuwers speculates this might be due to Robespierre on February 5 1794 providing a logic and a moral framework for the revolutionary government in his famous ”On Political Morality” speech, and Desmoulins not wanting to rock the boat) which takes the form of a dialogue between an ”old cordelier” and ”Camille Desmoulins,” officially two different persons, but in practise both alter-egos of the author. This time the journalist launches an offensive against the Committee of General Security and its politics, openly attacking several of its members — Vadier, Voulland, Amar, David and Lavicomterie, and even reproaching Robespierre for having forgotten his anti-warmongering from three years earlier. 

The third draft of the journal, the one Camille in the end wanted printed, no longer contains any of these reproaches towards the government committees, but still takes the form of a conversation between  ”the old cordelier” and Camille Desmoulins.” The ”old cordelier” is loyal to principles and advocates for unlimited freedom of the press, proclaiming it’s stupid to think it dangerous, and that before shooting the ”rascals” they must be denounced. He openly asks ”Camille Desmoulins” if he would dare to use freedom of the press to it’s full extent: ”Would you dare to ridicule the political blunders of this or that member of the Public Safety Committee? […] Would you dare today to address a particular deputy of the Minister of War, the great character Vincent, for example, as courageously as you did, four years ago, Necker and Bailly, Mirabeau, the Lameths and Lafayette?” He also expresses despair over the current state of affairs: ”I no longer see in the republic anything but the flat calm of despotism, and the smooth surface of the stagnant waters of a marsh; I see only an equality of fear […]Where is liberty? frankness? audacity?” The ”old cordelier” even aims a rebuke against Barère and Saint-Just for reports held December 26 and February 26 respectively: ”Saint-Just and Barère put you in their reports from the committee of public safety, because you put them in your journal.”

”Camille Desmoulins” is however more cautious than the ”old cordelier.” He doesn’t want to renounce his faith in freedom of expression either: ”republics have as their basis and foundation the freedom of the press, not this other basis that Montesquieu gave them” (virtue, so here Desmoulins appears to be distancing himself from Robespierre who claimed that it is indeed virtue that is ”the fundamental principle of popular or democratic government” in the speech on February 5). But then he also adds that freedom the press is subordinate to the “salvation of the people” and that the revolutionary government should also have the right to restrict property and freedom of movement. ”Camille Desmoulins” nevertheless continues advocating for indulgence, but this time without debating suspects. Towards the end, he also rekindles his attack on the ultra-revolutionaries: ”would you like this goddess thirsty for blood whose high priest Hébert, Momoro and their like, dare to demand that the Temple be built like that of Mexico, on the bones of three million citizens, and tell incessantly to the Jacobins, to the Commune , to the Cordeliers what the Spanish priests said to Montézume [sic]: The Gods are athirst.”

So going off this final number, I’d say Camille’s mindset was that of someone deeply unsatisfied with the politics of the day. He is however aware that fully voicing this dissatisfaction would be dangerous and/or counter-productive, which is why he scraps the first number entirely, and edits out the attacks on Robespierre and the CGS in the second draft (so in sum, I would say he was indeed attempting to back down a bit in number 6 and 7). Camille also comes off as conflicted about what to believe anymore, the collusion between his ideals and the lived reality evidently very strong.

I don’t know if Desmoulins would have been able to save himself had he chosen to put his guns down even more in the two final numbers. After all, at the time of Camille’s arrest, it’s been more than two months since number six — the meekest one of them all — has been released, so I don’t think the authorities saw him as a threat for what he was visibly doing in the moment as much as for what he had done/said in the past. I think a safer bet would be that Camille might have been able to save himself had he said he regretted his actions and accepted getting his numbers destroyed when denounced at the jacobins by Robespierre on January 7, because then he would still have had this crucial protection left.

As for the question of Danton and his role in the ”indulgent campaign,” like I wrote in this post, the idea that he was some kind of mastermind pulling the threads behind the scenes (like he’s portrayed in for example La Terreur et la Vertu) appears to be entirely based on the testimonies of contemporaries. There’s Robespierre claiming in his notes against the dantonists (March 1794) that Danton had been the ”president” of the Vieux Cordelier, whose prints he had corrected, and also that he had had ”influence” over the writings of Philippeaux. There’s Danton’s friend Garat writing in 1795 that Danton, while recovering from illness in Arcis-sur-Aube, came up with a ”conspiracy” with the goal ”to restore for the benefit of all the reign of justice and of the laws, and to extend clemency to his enemies,” that all his friends became part of upon his return to Paris. There’s Camille’s friend Louis Marie Prudhomme claiming in 1797 that ”Danton, Lacroix, Camille-Desmoulins, Fabre-d'Églantine, put themselves at the head of a secret party against the emerging authority of the Committee which was their work” at that Camille for this purpose had been charged with a ”moral attack” to ensure the triumph of the ”system of clemency.” There’s Courtois who in his old age wrote that Danton softened the Vieux Cordelier’s ”acrimony” in many places, and finally, there’s Jules Claretie who in Camille Desmoulins And His Wife: Passages From The History Of The Dantonists (1876) claimed to have heard an anecdote about Danton telling Camille to write and ask for clemency already in the summer of 1793. But again, determining the veracity in any of these statements is harder than it seems, especially as it’s impossible to say if these testimonies were independent from one another or not. Furthermore, there’s also other testimonies that go against those above. The deputy Levasseur de la Sarthe did for example claim in his memoirs that ”Fabre d’Églantine was at the head of this [indulgent] faction” and had managed to drag Desmoulins and Philippeaux along, but that ”Danton, loyal to the oath that he would not associate himself with any faction, did for a long time remain outside of cette new and imprudent outcry: later forced to speak out, he allied himself with the faction against the committee,” while Hébert, when attacking Desmoulins, Philippeaux, Bourdon de l’Oise and Fabre at the jacobins on December 21 1793, at the same time praised Danton — ”there are two men who have all my estime and all my confidence: Danton and Robespierre.”

I’ve found two seperate anecdotes painting Danton as someone who, similar to Vilate’s claim about Desmoulins, was deeply moved by the fate of the girondins. The first one comes from Memoirs of the revolution; or, an apology for my conduct, in the public employments which I have held (1795) by Dominique-Joseph Garat:

I could not convince myself that among all those who, since May 31, had retained great popularity, there was not one who did not still retain a little humanity, and I went to Danton. He was ill, it only took me two minutes to see that his illness was above all a deep pain and a great dismay at everything that was coming. ”I won't be able to save them (the girondins)”, were the first words out of his mouth, and, as he uttered them, all the strength of this man, who has been compared to an athlete, was defeated, big tears strolled down his face, whose shapes could have been used to represent that of Tartarus. […] When the fate reserved for the twenty-two [girondins] seemed inevitable, Danton already heard, so to speak, his death sentence in theirs. All the strength of this triumphant athlete of democracy succumbed under the feeling of the crimes of democracy and its disorders. He could only talk about the countryside, he was suffocating, he needed to escape from men in order to be able to breathe.

The other one comes from a memoir that Danton’s sons wrote over their father in 1846. They claimed to have obtained the anecdote from the son of the M. Doulet mentioned in it:

Danton was in Arcis in the month of November 1793. One day, when he was walking in his garden with M. Doulet, a third person came towards them, walking with great steps and holding a paper in his hand (it was a journal). As soon as he could make himself heard he cried out: ”Good news! Good news!” and approached them. ”What news?” said Danton. ”Here, read! The girondins have been condemned and executed,” responded the person that had just arrived. ”And you call this good news, you wretch?” cried Danton in his turn, Danton whose eyes immediately got filled with tears. ”The death of the girondins good news? Wretch!” ”Without a doubt,” responded his interlocuteur, ”weren’t they factious?  ”Factious,” said Danton. Aren’t we factious? We all deserve death just as much as the girondins, we will all suffer, one after the other, the same fate as them.”

This could invite to the idea that Danton, like Camille, was horrified by the fact revolutionary justice had gone as far as it had (or at least that he got alarmed once he realized said justice could also reach politicians like himself) and wanted to put an end to it. But also like with Camille, this idea cracks a little once you start looking over the things he’s actually fully confirmed to have said himself following his return to Paris in November 1793 and his death five months later. This can be observed in Discours de Danton (1910) by André Fribourg. Below can be seen all recorded interventions made by Danton during this period, as well as which ones had anything to do with the ”indulgent campaign.”

On November 22, the first day of his public apperances since his return from Arcis-sur-Aube, Danton speaks about a decree granting help to priests who have abdicated, that the committee of legislation and finances has been charged with preparing. Danton supports the decree, pointing at ”the consequences the rejection of [it] would have” — if a priest cannot support himself, he will turn against them, travel to the Vendée and declare himself their enemy. He therefore suggests that it be kept track over which priests have obtained the relief, and that as soon as it is demonstrated to a commune that one has acquired the means to subsist, it will be authorized to remove all priest salary from him. And he ends with these words:

I ask that the blood of men be spared; I ask that you do not lose the means of going home to your enemies, and conciliating them. Be fair to all who are not your enemies; you owe them enough to live on until they can afford it. You can give it to them with economy: here there is no expense. Those who calculate know that a large number will hasten to search, and will find ways to cost the Nation nothing. But show yourselves just, show yourselves great like the people you represent; it wants justice, it wants it to be imperturbable; proclaim it in its name, you will receive its applause and blessings.

Danton’s intervention was met by applause, and the discussion ends with the committee’s decree about help to the priests getting sent to the printer.

Four days later, November 26, Danton spoke in similar terms, regretting the numerous deputations and former priests coming to the Convention that day to show off remains of their churches and renounce their estate respectively. Danton proposes that ”we should no longer admit these anti-religious masquerades,” pointing out that ”there exists a law that charges a committee to receive the renunciations of priests. I demand the execution of it.” After asking for there to quickly be made a report on the ”foreign plot” recently revealed to the authorities by Fabre d’Églantine, Danton once again makes a case for not multiplying the guilty:

The perpetrators and accomplices must be carefully sought after, even within the Assembly. We must pursue traitors everywhere in whatever forms they disguise themselves. But let us be careful to distinguish what is due to error from what is due to crime. The people want terror to be the order of the day; but it wants it to be carried out against the real enemies of the Republic, and against them alone; I read that the people do not want the individual who was not born with revolutionary vigor to be, for that reason alone, treated as a culprit; if they do not deviate from their duties, the people want to encourage even the weak, when they have no idea of ​​crime.

This earned him a reprimand from Fayau, who said that Danton had just ”let escape, without a doubt unintentionally, expressions that do not please me, he has not misunderstood this great truth that the people are sovereign, but while they need to be terrible he invites them to clemency.” Danton responded that he hadn’t even pronounced the word ”clemency,” doesn’t want any indulgence for the guilty, and asks for ”an energetic and revolutionary government.” Fayau retorted, saying that the way Danton just expressed himself of the current government made it seem like he thinks it could easily be substituted for another. But Danton shut him down with the words ”The Republican Constitution is decreed, and I am an imperishable Republican.” Once again he carried the day, the Convention decreeing his propositions amid applause.

On December 1 Danton warned that ”any man who makes himself ultra-revolutionary will render results as dangerous as determined counter-revolution,” and urged the Convention to declare that ”no one has the right to arbitrarily lay down the law on a citizen.” He calls for centralisation and tighter control of representatives on mission:

Let us recall those of our commissioners who, no doubt with good intentions, have taken measures that have been reported to us, and that no representative of the people henceforth issues decrees except in accordance with our revolutionary decrees, with the principles of freedom, and according to the instructions which will be transmitted to him by the Committee of Public Safety. Let us remember that, if it is with the pike that we overthrow, it is with the compass of reason and genius that we can raise and consolidate the edifice of society. 

Two days after that, December 3, the jacobin session reported about at the beginning of this post, the one where Danton once again speaks against what he calls ”ultra-revolutionary measures,” is critiqued by Coupé d’Oise but saved by Robespierre. After this however, Danton’s frequent warnings about ultra-revolution come to a sudden stop, and he instead occupies himself with speaking on other subjects. Did he at this point feel that he could leave over the task to Desmoulins and Robespierre?

On the Convention session December 22, upon the news that a wine merchant suspected of hoarding has been convicted but his innocence has been recognized, Danton cried out for a reprieve, and the Convention repeated it after him. Danton then supported a proposal made by Collot d’Herbois to first make a report regarding the case and send it to the Convention.

The day after that, December 23, Danton called for calm in the Jacobins’ tumultuous discussion about Philippeaux. He does however not defend the accused or his works, underlining instead that ”I don’t have any opinion on Philippeaux or others; I’ve told him myself: ”you must either prove your accusation, or get sent to the scaffold,” but asking that everyone that wishes to speak be heard: ”There is only one misfortune to fear, and that is that our enemies will take advantage of our discussions. Let them profit as little as neccesary, and all keep our heads that are neccesary to us.” Right after Danton, Robespierre makes a similar intervention, underlining that he himself hasn’t read Philippeaux’ pamphlet but hopes he had good intentions with it, before asking for everyone to be heard and the session to be kept ”calm and quiet,” warning of ”the foreign powers [that] surround you here.” When a while later, their advice still hasn’t borne any fruit, Danton irritatingly intervenes again: ”the enemy is at our gates, and we are tearing each other apart! Do all our altercations kill a Prussian?” (vivid applause). Danton ends by asking for ”a commission composed of five members, that will hear the accused and the accusers.” With the support of Couthon, this proposal is decreed and met with applause. 

The next time Philippeaux is discussed by the jacobins, on January 5, Danton again observes that the discussion revolves around facts denied on one side and affirmed on the other. In order to find out what of Philippeaux’s writings actually correspond with reality, he asks that the correspondence from Vendée be analyzed and that the representatives and soldiers interrogated on what they have seen, so that then the Convention and the CPS can clarify the substance of the question. ”Before having reached the goal, let us not prejudge any individual; let's leave it a misunderstood predipitation. We will soon know what to think of Philippeaux when the facts are clearly known.” Danton also expresses doubt over the arrested Ronsin’s presumed guilt — ”I have a hard time believing Ronsin has changed in the way of thinking, he in whom I have always following the trail of liberty, he who during my ministery was pointed out to me as an ardent back up of republican government, and whom I chose, to the great satisfaction of patriots, to after the great insurrection of August 1 go and share the love of the republic in the departments” — something which makes it hard to believe he would have been the one who, through Fabre, masterminded said arrest. It may also be added that Desmoulins was also denounced during the session of both December 23 and January 5, without Danton speaking up for him.

On January 7, after Desmoulins has been attacked by Robespierre, Danton again steps in not to defend the journalist and his numbers, but rather to bring both friends back to order and call for quiet — ”Camille mustn’t be frightened by the rather severe lessons Robespierre’s friendship has just given him. Citizens, let justice and cold-headedness always preside over our decisions. In judging Camille, be careful to not strike a deadly blow against liberty of the press.”

The same day at the Convention, Bourdon d’Oise attacks two men Desmoulins has previously taken on in the Vieux Cordelier, Hébert and Bouchotte, the former of which has attacked ”the most pure patriots” in his journal while being in the pay of the latter, who, as Minister of War, ”draws immense sums from the public fund.” This money, Bourdon claims, is better used paying off the nation’s debt to the families of volunteers. Danton, while declaring that ”I think like the pre-opinionists that the organization of the Ministry of War is bad,” also makes sure to state that ”we must ensure that our decrees do not harm the action of the operations of this same ministry,” before again asking that everything be looked over by the CPS and the Committee of Finances instead, ”so that they present to us a method such that our enemies know that we will never slow down the efforts that public safety and the unshakeable establishment of freedom require of us.” He never mentions any names. If Danton is the leader of the ”indulgents,” he does in other words not do much to continue an offensive launched against the ”rival faction” by one of his presumed ”allies.”

The next intervention takes place on January 13, when Danton spoke about the recent arrest of Fabre d’Églantine, agreeing with Charlier who asked for an act of accusation against him and the three other deputies entangled in the East India Company Scandal, and proclaiming that the Committee of General Security has done a good job by putting a ”man presumed guilty” under the hand of the law, but that it at the same time wouldn’t hurt to let the accused come and explain themselves before the Convention — ”I ask that the Convention confirm the arrest of Fabre d'Églantine, that the Committee of General Security take all necessary measures, and that the defendants then be brought to the bar so that they can be judged before all the people so that it recignizes those who still deserve its esteem.” — underlining that his proposal isn’t contrary to that of the committee. His proposal did however receive a frosty response from both Vadier and Billaud-Varennes, the latter exclaiming: ”Woe to whoever sat next to Fabre d'Églantine, and who is still his dupe.” Right after him, Amar insinuated Danton was accusing the committee of negligence, to which he immediately responded that he wasn’t, ”I do justice to it.”

On January 16, Bourdon de l’Oise asks for the arrest and transfer before the are Revolutionary Tribunal of the deputy Dentzel, who, during a mission in the Bas-Rhin department ”focused on persecuting patriots and incarcerating them,” even having the colonel of the Corrèze battalion, a ”frank republican and known as such,” put in an iron cage. Here Danton wholeheartedly agrees, calling the charges against Dentzel ”grave” and calling for the CPS and CGS to take care of the accusation while nevertheless again repeating that ”we must follow a wise path that puts us aside from errors.”

On January 24 Camille protested against the recent arrest of his father-in-law at the Jacobins, again gaining the support of Bourdon d’Oise who asked that the Committee of General Security make a report about the case in three days. Danton did however object to this, stating that he didn’t want a certain prisoner to be given privilieges just because of his relations. He also underlined that ”no one wants the continuation of revolutionary action more than me,” and that ”it is impossible for revolutionary means not to be momentarily fatal to good citizens” before nevertheless reminding the deputies of Robespierre’s committee of justice (which ended up never happening in practice) and suggesting that ”the Convention consider ways to do justice to all the victims of arbitrary measures and arrests, without harming the action of the revolutionary government”:

I oppose the kind of distinction of privilege which would seem to be granted to Desmoulins' father-in-law. I want the Convention to deal only with general affairs. If we want a report for this citizen, we also need one for all the others. […] My colleague's complaint is fair in itself, but it would give rise to a decree unworthy of us. If we were to give priority, it would belong to citizens who do not find in their fortune and in their acquaintance with members of the Convention hopes and resources in the midst of their misfortune: it must be to the unfortunate, to the needy, that you should first hold out your hands. I ask that the Convention consider ways to do justice to all the victims of arbitrary measures and arrests, without harming the action of the revolutionary government. I would be careful not to prescribe the means here. I request the referral of this question to the consideration of the Committee of General Safety, which will consult with the Committee of Public Safety; that a report be made to the Convention, and that it be followed by a broad and in-depth discussion; because all the discussions of the Convention have resulted in the triumph of reason and liberty.

On January 29, Danton opposed an immediate act of accusation being issued against Dalbarade, minister of navy, accused of rebellion against the Convention — ”I know that we above all must guard ourselves from our passions. If it is vigour that founds republics, I know that wisdom and concilation are what give them a unalterable solidity; and I foresee that if we exaggerate each other we would end up forming parties, and there can only be one, that of reason” — asking (again) that the CPS make a report on the matter first.

Three days later, February 2, Danton applauded the proposal put forward by the CGS:s Voulland to release the imprisoned Vincent and Ronsin, as no charge against them has appeared. He claims to have been sceptical about the decision to arrest them since day one — ”I said to Fabre himself, when he wrested from the Convention the decree of arrest against Vincent and Ronsin: You act like the Convention was great when it went through with this decree, as for me, I maintain that it had only a good intention, and it needed to be clarified.” — and calls it ”an incontestable principle” to not treat as suspects ”revolutionary veterans who, by public admission, have rendered constant services to liberty.” But he also claims to have been motivated by the same principles when asking that Fabre be allowed to come and defend himself before the Convention a month earlier — ”I defend Ronsin and Vincent against prejudice, just as I will defend Fabre and my other colleagues, as long as no one has carried into my soul a conviction contrary to the opinion I have of them.” He also repeats that he believes the intentions of Philippeaux (whose pamphlet is course what landed Ronsin and Vincent in prison to really begin with) were good (even while again underlining he doesn’t agree with his opinions) and that he will surely not object to setting the two free. And he ends by once again calling for unity: ”stop this germ of division that our enemies, undoubtedly, seek to cast among us.”

On February 22, Danton asked for the postponement of a decree put forward by Élie Lacoste, in the name of the CGS, putting under arrest the judges and public pursecotor of the military tribunal of the first district of the Ardennes department. Danton proclaims that ”it is time for the Convention to return to its rightful place, and to pronounce only with full knowledge of the facts,” and that this is ”only the preface to my political opinion; I will say it in time.” He’s proposal was again adopted.

Finally, on March 19, Danton celebrated the arrest of the hébertists, exclaiming that ”the people and the National Convention want the authors of this conspiracy to be punished with death” and that ”never has national representation appeared as great to me as it does today.” He praises the revolutionary government and its two committees. Nowhere, however, does the leader of the ”indulgents” take advantage of the elimination of the so called ”extremists” to ask for more moderation/clemency. 

During the trial of the indulgents, I can’t find Danton’s activities and interventions over the past five months get discussed even once, focus lies instead on his revolutionary career prior to that point, with the intention of proving he’s been a closet royalist and an accomplice of both Dumouriez, the duke of Orléans, Mirabeau and the girondins. At one point, Danton does however proclaim that he still believes Fabre to be a good citizen…

So I would conclude by saying Danton’s part in the ”indulgent campaign” consists of him first warning about the dangers of ultra-revolution, and then asking that revolutionary justice be slowed down a bit in three seperate cases, calling for unity within the jacobin club and Convention, and at one point asking that measures be taken to help those under arbitrary arrest. In these two last points, he’s actually quite similar to Robespierre during this same period… Danton never shows himself hostile towards any of the ”ultras” until they have been put on trial, even expressing doubt over the first arrest of Ronsin and Vincent and joy over their release. This while simultaneously not showing the strongest ties to his fellow ”indulgents” — he claims that Philippeaux had good intentions but nevertheless underlines that he doesn’t share his opinions/hasn’t made up his mind on him, he proposes that the imprisoned Fabre be allowed to come and explain himself before the Convention but also applauds his arrest, he goes against Bourdon de l’Oise on both January 7 and 24, and he steps in to act as mediator when Desmoulins gets denounced by Robespierre, but does nothing to really defend him and his actions neither then nor when he’s openly attacked on December 23 and January 5. Danton, like Desmoulins, also never openly questions the authority of the government committees, appearing instead to hugely respect them and finding them important for the salvation of France, given how often he asks that matters be handed over to them.  

As for what evidence we have regarding Danton’s view on the later numbers of the Vieux Cordelier, I would say there’s none, in both directions.

[maelor321]

The wasted narrative potential of the Church of Seiros' weakness.

 The church of Seiros is rather infamous, as it is the organization overseeing the main Faith of Fódlan, akin to the Catholic Church in medieval Europe, including for the small territoires. 

The Church is seen by the Fandom and by many in-universe as truly powerful, controlling the Land through the devotion of the people, with a goal of ruling all of Fódlan as puppet masters at best. 

That however is factually false. 

The Church of Seiros is not some all-powerful organization, and isn't even unified. 

Rhea refuse to use her power to dictate policies of the nations, in fact, she many times is too meek, though it make sense.

The Eastern Church are weaponless and puppets of the lords of Leicester, the Southern Church was destroyed, and Faerghus is divided between the western and Central church, with the Western Church and it's aligned lords being traitors to both the Crown and central Church, and puppets of the Agarthans. 

Furthermore, the ideology of the Church, that promote the restraint from abusing Crests, is utterly ignored whenever convenient. 

And just look what happened with the Central Church being invaded! Many lords of Leicester and Faerghus swore themselves to Edelgard, and even in Adrestia, Edie didn't seem to face opposition. 

Though that last point is a bit horseshit, I'm French, and our own first revolution caused a Civil War with the Vendée region's commoners being the most famous for fighting to defend Crown, lords and Faith, it also show how Hresvelg propaganda against the Church, Hresvelg, not merely Edelgard, destroyed the ability of the Church to call to aid anyone south of Garreg Mach, or even East of it.  

The matter really is a wasted opportunity narratively, because the Church being all powerful is something done often in fiction, but beside the actively treacherous and xenophobic Western Church, none of the Churches is really doing manipulation, and the western Church's plots are guided by the Agarthans anyway.

I think there's a lot of possible stories from a Church-centric POV about how the Faith's weakness and scapegoat status, and the fact that so few care for it in favor of treating the organization as the genderbend Catholic Church on steroids is disappointing.

I've seen the comparison with the schrodinger cat being done with the Church and Rhea, the idea being that they're blamed whenever they "overstep", ignoring how their actions are usually justified, but at the same time blamed when they stay out of shits.

If anyone do know stories which exploit this potential, do tell.

[nesiacha]

In honor of Gracchus Babeuf's birthday, here’s a not-so-serious take: What if Gracchus had been on the Committee of Public Safety during Year II?

If you’re looking for a historical opinion, move on. This is not a serious post at all.

It would have been incredibly complicated. He would have arrived at the Committee like an overenthusiastic puppy, greeting everyone (except maybe Barère), and immediately spent his first day writing about how he's the humble and grateful "point of the revolution" (I've read some of his letters from the time he first arrived in Paris, and he was basically like a kid on Christmas morning, meeting so many important people). Known for his feverish passion for the revolution (I'm only half-joking, the man couldn't sit still sometimes—probably had caffeine running through his veins instead of blood), he would have talked non-stop about redistributing property, particularly focusing on the agrarian front, until the rest of the committee members would have been this close to just throwing him out the window (especially because he can't sit still in his chair) . In fact, they’d probably have had to remind him to calm down, like a hyperactive toddler who's had one too many sugar cubes.

To keep the peace, the Committee might have sent him on a mission to Picardy, where he was very popular. Besides, Babeuf always sought to understand the origins of economic problems, so he could have been effective in that regard. Lindet might have been pleased to have him there, even if they didn’t always agree. He could have been an ally of Lindet, given that they had once allied, even though Lindet didn’t take part in the conspiracy. The only common ground he might have had with Carnot would have been on women’s rights, but otherwise, not much (considering what happened in real life, the difference being that Lazare, as Director, might have hesitated to spearhead the repression of the Babouvists, perhaps because he knew Babeuf better, though that’s a big maybe).

His strongest asset would have been his closeness to the Marat family (especially Albertine Marat and Simone Evrard). He could have united both Robespierrists and Hébertists, as well as people like Lindet, even from a distance. This would have been a positive for the Committee. He was upright, honest, hard-working, and willing to risk his life and comfort (he only experienced 16 to 20 months of freedom during the Directory, so he was a true fighter, ready to give his life). From a family perspective, things might have been a little better. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of his position, but at least he could have fed his daughter Sophie, who might not have died of malnutrition.

He was much smarter than he appeared and wasn’t a utopian or a fool. For example, while Marat, brilliant as he was, constantly attacked Necker (justifiably), Babeuf would have tried to think beyond that, supporting tax measures, stable prices, and investigating the grain market. He would have wanted to understand why it wasn’t reaching Paris and would have volunteered to investigate. I can also see him declaring war on the black market and speculation.

In any case, Gracchus is a humanist who does not tolerate the slightest misconduct, even in the name of the revolution. This is demonstrated by his reaction to the assassination of Foulon and his response in Vendée, despite being a fervent revolutionary. I can imagine him reading the reports from Vendée, enraged, demanding that Carrier be severely punished, as well as Collot d'Herbois, when he learns that Collot used cannons for executions in Lyon. This would cause turmoil within the Committee (particularly for Collot d'Herbois). In this situation, Gracchus would immediately see Fouché's true nature, but he might innocently propose to the Committee of Public Safety (CPS) that Tallien be included, which would likely give Carnot, Robespierre, and others heart attacks. However, Gracchus would soon realize Tallien’s true character and withdraw his proposal.

A major point of divergence would arise during the struggle between factions, with both the factions and the CPS, as well as the Convention, all bearing some responsibility. On one side, Gracchus is closer to the Hébertists (some, like Chaumette) than to Collot d'Herbois, so he might try to calm them down. On the other hand, Chaumette did not participate in the insurrection attempt and withdrew, not out of cowardice or opportunism like Hébert—though the term may be harsh—but because he was more reasonable than many believed, despite his flaws, which didn’t prevent him from being guillotined. Thus, Gracchus would fiercely oppose the Committee, doing everything he could to avoid signing, especially for Chaumette. On the other hand, he would refuse any parody of justice, including that of the Indulgents, because he is a humanist and a reasonable person, and he would protest even more strongly the execution of Lucile Desmoulins and Marie-Françoise Hébert.

He might be expelled after delivering a speech that the Committee mishandled, publicly distancing himself from them. If he remains, I see him reluctantly forgiving them for what happened, because he understands that the CPS is being run by people crushed in an infernal machine, while still refusing to abandon his friends. After all, Babeuf supported Chaumette’s widow and, posthumously, reconciled with Robespierre. There is also a theory that explains why he spared a lot Carnot in his final speech, even though Carnot had been a key figure in his execution and contributed to his arrest, which ultimately led to his death. Despite knowing what Carnot had done against him, Babeuf often criticized people like Fréron, Tallien, Fouché, and Barras. However, he recognized that, for all his flaws, Carnot was more sincere than they were in safeguarding the Republic.

A minor drawback is that his wife (his political right-hand) can no longer spend as much time as a collaborator. Therefore, he would have a trusted friend manage his newspaper, while his wife would handle subscriptions, militating separately, assisting him, and accompanying him on missions.

However, it is very likely that he would eventually be deported. His wife, known for her strong character given all the trials she went through and her continued activism, would seek to escape with him, but if not, she would join him. She possesses incredibly terrifying courage, as evidenced by the many posts I have written about her. If he survives, he would continue his activism to the fullest, and perhaps he would even help inspire a larger uprising among the Black population, knowing him.

But here comes the biggest black mark, according to Pierre Serna: during his arrest, Babeuf was negligent and irresponsible, leaving a list of many people, whether conspirators or not, who were linked to him in his room. This made it very easy for the police to find everyone. So, imagine this: if he were in the CPS, went on a mission, and left secret documents unprotected (which is very possible, knowing him). An enemy or spy could have gained access to sensitive information or strategic plans. Imagine the faces of the other members of the CPS if it would have happened. Carnot would be shouting in his face, asking just how irresponsible he could be (a nice euphemism there), and how Gracchus seemed determined to ruin all their efforts. Maybe Carnot would even have a heart attack from the sheer foolishness of it all (RIP Carnot, but, hey, he survived Tallien and Barras, so maybe he would’ve survived this too... or maybe not). Billaud and Collot would exchange glances and say, “Well, it’s two against one. Let’s just get rid of him.” Prieur Claude-Antoine would do the most epic facepalm ever seen, probably with a loud sigh of frustration . Robespierre, on the other hand, would try to calm himself down by reading Rousseau, hoping to lower his blood pressure, but of course, that wouldn't work at all. His condition would get worse, and Momoro, would jump at the chance to mock Robespierre even more if he know about this (especially after hearing his speech about the tired revolutionaries and their broken legs). Couthon, trying to keep his cool, would attempt to write the Civil Code but would likely fail miserably (you can just imagine him scribbling down nonsense).

Saint-Just would also make the same reproach he made to Carnot in the movie Saint-Just et la Force des Choses (when, in the film, Saint-Just confronts Carnot over the Battle of Fleurus), telling him with great severity that, from another person, he would suspect a betrayal . In fact, he would be even harsher with Gracchus for making such a blunder that it would probably make the walls of the room shake. In any case, the CPS would no longer trust him with delicate missions. However, it would be interesting to see the aftermath with Buonarroti, who would need to join the CPS to channel his friend Gracchus.

[frevandrest]

Did Robespierre, Danton, Desmoulins and Saint Just approve of the drowning of civilians including children in Nantes? It says on wikipedia that the National Convention approved if the extermination of the people of Nantes in 1793

Full disclaimer: I don't know enough about Vendée because it makes me sick to my stomach tbh (civil war is a trigger for me). So I never researched details of it, nor did I research Carrier and what happened in more detail. (And also full disclaimer: I have a strong dislike/fear of that man so I never wished to look more closely into it.)

What I do know is that the context of this was civil war (namely, brigandins taking arms against the Republic and Republic fighting back). However, I don't see how the list of victims in the Nantes drowning included brigandins (?) So Carrier (or whoever was responsible for it) definitely acted outside of the orders. I need to see what was said in 1793; I know of speech(es) Carrier did when he was recalled by Robespierre in early 1794, where he insisted on the need to fight and kill brigandins (those who take arms against the republic). That was supported by the Convention, I believe (even if fighters were women. For children, I don't know - by law, executing anyone under 16 was illegal and not endorsed (?) so I don't think that was supported? If anyone knows better, please let us know). But there was no talk of exterminating the general population, and that was not approved (again, as far as I understand). And what happened in Nantes went beyond that, and into general population. So that was a big problem.

As I understand, Carrier was denounced for his behaviour - I know that the young Marc-Antoine Jullien (he was 18-19 at the time) was Robespierre's spy and he reported on Carrier's behaviour, which made Robespierre recall Carrier (and also Carrier asked to be recalled? No idea what happened there).

As who enabled Carrier... None of the names you mention in your post were Carrier's allies (and Robespierre was his big opponent*). But this whole thing does bring up a bigger problem in frev, that is, the vague/unclear orders AND lack of proper centralized control. In short: the representatives on mission had way, way too much power that was not fully and strictly defined and limited. So they could do many things that were not exactly ordered by the Committee of Public Safety or the Convention... but that were not illegal, either (because they were given all that power and were allowed to do measures as they saw fit. It was assumed that they would do it fairly and without war crimes but eeeh. It was a naive assumption). There was a good post around here that went something like "there is a representative on a mission coming to your area. Will he make things better? Will he do war crimes? You never know."

So yes, a lot depended on the individuals in charge, and there was no effective way for Paris to control their behaviour (which is one of the reasons why the Republic in Year II could not be called a strong centralized state, no way). Paris relied on reports from the representatives (who obviously made themselves sound great), spies and general population, and it was often "this guy's word against that guy's word". They had no fast method of communication, no photographs, no reliable ways to tell wtf was going on). It is not an excuse (I do think not strictly defining and limiting representatives' power was a huge problem). So this is how we got the situation to have CSP/Convention say "fight harshly those who take arms against the Republic" and then going surprise Pikachu face when hearing about war crimes. (News flash: you can't just give all that power to people and leave it to their consciousness without imposing some limits). I do think many were honestly shocked/appalled at what happened, but my dudes, you carry your share of responsibility for not defining what's allowed and what's not. (That, and I also the Convention did want to destroy soldiers/fighters/brigandins fighting against the Republic and win the civil war, just like it wanted to destroy the enemy armies and win the war with the foreign armies. So while general population was not supposed to be targeted, representatives often used "those people were actually brigandins" as an excuse).

*Carrier and Robespierre loathed each other and wanted each other dead (so Carrier won at that, at least briefly), but I am not sure what was the exact reason for their mutual hate and what were the reasons for their disagreements. (I assume, like with Collot and Fouché, war crimes might have played a role, but I also feel - just like with Collot and Fouché - there were probably other reasons. So I am not claiming that Robespierre wanted Carrier dead (just) for what he did in Nantes).

So that's all I know, I am afraid. Anyone else?

[alpaca-clouds]

War in the Vendée

Someone asked me to talk about this. So, I am going to try, even though I do not know a lot about this, because the stuff I read on the French Revolution barely covered this.

But... Nocturne is set in Vendée in the summer of 1792.

Vendée takes a special role within the history of the French Revolution. Because it was the one place in France where the resistance against the Revolution was so big, that it ended up sparking an outright big conflict between rebells of Vendée and the Revolutionaries.

Now, why was this?

Reading through some papers, there seem to be two big factors in this: The gentry and the church. Some historians seem to push for one more than the other, but in general everyone agrees that those two are the main factors.

Let me explain: One of the big differences between Vendée and most of the rest of France was, that nobility kept to a lot of the more rural areas of the region. A part of the driving factors of the Revolution was, that the nobility had grown apart from the peasantry. A lot of nobles had moved to the cities, where they basically lived in their own little communities away from everyone else and became more distatched from the normal folks - and the normal folks became distatched from them as well.

Meanwhile in Vendée the nobles kept often to old heritage estates that even the peasantry had some sort of relation to, because those estates and their noble families had been there for generations. It made the people of Vendée more sympathetic towards the nobility. And the nobility of course was royalist, because... well, their status was kinda bound to the royal family staying in power.

The other factor was the church. I talked about the complicated relationship the Catholic Church had to the French Revolution, with some priests and monks supporting the revolution, while others were very, very much against it.

One of the central points was, that the Revolutionaries, holding their enlightenment ideas, were very firm about the Catholic Church no longer having independence. You know, stuff like the Church getting special treatment and all of that, not having to pay taxes, owning land, having their own laws to go by... The Revolutionaries thought that this was too far and that while the people could have their churches, the clergy needed to behave like every other citizen and swear upon the new constitution and what not.

And... some clergy did not take this well. Like the clergy in Vendée. And Vendée was a more rural region, and everyone of you who has relatives in rural areas will know clearly how much more influence the church has in those. So, yeah. With the clergy in Vendée falling so clearly on the side of "no, absolutely not" and the clergy holding a lot of soft power over the people... The people also ended up falling on that side of it.

And while there were some counter-revolutionaries elsewhere, those were usually smaller splinter groups. In Vendée it was a lot of people. A lot. Which was why the first attempt to suppress them did not work out - and that... led to an allout war between the Revolutionaries and the rebels of Vendée.

Something you also need to know: Vendée is a complicated topic. Mostly, because Vendée ever since has been used as a propaganda tool for all sorts of things. Part of the issue is once again, that there is little written accounts surviving from the peasants in Vendée. Just from some of the nobility, a lot from the clergy, and some from the Revolutionary leaders fighting down the rebellion.

As such you will find a lot of differing claims reaching from: "The nobility and clergy manipulated the poor folks of Vendée to die for their cause." To: "Evil revolution did a genocide to proof a point."

And I personally honestly do not know enough about the entire thing to know which side of the argument I fall into.

But yeah, that is Vendée. That is the history of the region Nocturne is set in.

[randomnameless]

So considering how feudal nations work and if one is willing to focus on the lesser nobles, actual people (so not just showing Edelgard loyalists but those who dislike her too) and if Ludwig manage to escape capture, it would be reasonable to have a civil war happen?

I think it can since Hubert wouldn't just be able to get the network system of his father after murdering him, and the nobles of Adrestia are the worst in terms of opposition to social mobility and primitive form of gender equality, so the lack of civil war is stupid.

I base my thoughts on how France (I'm French too) had the Vendée rebellion and subsequent massacre and how devotion to the Church fueled support to the Spanish nationalists.

Adrestia is somehow the least interesting nation because of how it lack any of the noticeable internal strife shown, and Hubert being so effective at killing dissidents despite being only 20 (before the war) and having been at odd with many of the Seven who would actually have networks on their own is really Mary-sue ish.

I was a Edelstan at first (though I don't think too extreme) , but the more I see things, the more CF, SB and Edie annoy me (though the toxic fans are key in me stopping from preferring Edie).

Ooh!

Cher compatriote,

Thing is, Fodlan has been shown to be... not so feudal at all, especially the Empire.

I mean, Ludwig is jailed by word of the newest Emperor, when Ludwig is the PM and Edel was only the Imperial Princess at that time.

If we assume PM is just a big title (like the Fraldarius being Dukes) and in a feudal setting, Ludwig would have had a lot of lesser Houses and feudal Lords under his authority - the Emperor jails him? I can't see his bannermen - especially since this imprisonment isn't in reaction to anything he did (recently?) - just stand still and continue with their lives - how come no one reacts "wrongly" when he is jailed, in his territory, or the people affiliated to his name (maybe cousins, cadet branches, or what not)?

FWIW, Ludwig managed to escape and sort of mount a small army of men in SB... But that's nowhere what I would expect from the former PM - when we are told he was the one running things at the end of Ionius' rule - to have/raise, the number 1 of the country drops to a nobody by the heir of the puppet ruler, and apparently, the only ones number 1 can have to help him is 15 guys ?

I mean, Ferdie can have his Aegir personal battalion when he ends his paralogue (i know, it's a gameplay mechanic!) - can't we imagine the Aegir Astral Knights would have been something else than 10 dudes following Ferdie in gameplay, and be instead an entire battalion Ludwig could have used to defend himself, or at least run away with? Or imagine those knights tried to locate and liberate him from his prison in Enbarr?

Adrestia is so not developed that, as you say, it ends up being the most boring place of the three (even if I'll argue on this point : both Adrestia and Leicester are completely empty and without interest, but at least, Adrestia had some history landmarks to imagine things, when the Alliance has... Gloucester and his sheep, I guess?) - but at the same time, it could have been much more : Adrestian Emperors claim to descend from Jesus... but there's an Archbishop around (who is actually Jesus and not their ancestor (or is she?), but that's a secret!) so, to everyone who is supposed to buy the official story... Why should the CoS be administred/ruled by a random archbishop, when Jesus' direct line is still alive and kicking? Why should the Emperors share Fodlan - that was liberated by Seiros herself from corrupted people in the North ! - with the descendants of those corrupted people in the North?

The game instead gives us MAGA "Make Adrestia Great Again" with a resentment for the CoS that isn't explained (in Nopes, it's suggested the Emperor who disbanded the Southern church already was pissed with the Central Church!) and we can only guess it's either about Faerghus existing or something else...

I confess my only interest in Adrestia stems from the country being seemingly, during the WoH and post WoH the country were people are happy and peaceful etc "country of a blue lord", and then, 10 years after the end of the War of Heroes, instead of having some "and Renais was rebuilt and Ephraim became the new King of Restauration and helped everyone" we have "and then Lycaon dies mysteriously and the political situation is so "stable" that his successor duels for her throne", complete with a novel having in the background "and Adrestia still didn't leave the Roman Ludi and had northerners being torn apart by beasts as a form of entertainment"* which is, uh, very very very far removed from Marth'n'Tiki finishing their adventures and returning home.

As you pointed out, Adrestia, for what is developed in-game or mentioned about the place, is incredibly bleak and involves child prostitution, heavy class divide and an extreme misoginy in the current times... when it was created/overlooked, at least in the beginning, by Rhea herself ! When Rhea's current home is a rather peaceful place, Adrestia by comparison is a chamber pot, so what the frick happened there? 1000 years are 1000 years, but damn.

We don't have any intel about it - only mentions here'n'there that Hubert and Supreme Leader (but mostly Hubert because he can be criticised in game having a very... biased view of events and refusing to reconsider, but in the end, Adrestia... cannot be developed or have a civil war, because Adrestia isn't the focus of the story - from what we have, we already know it's a bleak place before and after Edel's coronation so... Her goal is to bring reforms to the world, but it's fitting enough that she doesn't deal with her own turf before bringing "reforms" to the rest of Fodlan.

There's also the very doylist reason of Edel having to be marketable, so in Houses, we cannot have people rebel on-screen for what happens in the Empire, else the Emperor... will not sell. Hell, Nopes had to have her brainwashed to have people react to Agarthans killing her randoms right and left, while the Nobles aren't doing a thing - always hammering the fact that "she's brainwashed so it's not her doing this or condoning this by not moving her army to protect her people it's Thales's fault".

Hubert being hyper-competent is an assumed trait at this point lol, unless he really really works with the Agarthans who lend him their tech and spy reports and whatnot. FE isn't a "realistic" as, say, ASOIAF, but without Hubert, Adrestia doesn't function and Edel's plans don't work so Hubert is both a McGuffin plot device (apparently he can pinpoint shambala because Thales fire nukes? Without access to any satellite?) and the character we all love.

Given how Supreme Leader planned her coup coronation and subsequent attack on GM - especially since Leopold already was in her pocket during the mock battle - I'm pretty sure Hubert, or Leopold's army or hell, some of her "allies" already envisaged this, and had either Aegir's "close allies" Hubert'd or monitored.

Or worse, imagine a scenario where Aegir runs to his friend Varley to explain him what happened, how the Emperor sent an army against him to usurp the throne and how they must warn everyone and Leopold to raise the army against her... Only to have Varley reveal he is now the Bishop of the Southern Church, and Leopold sided with her since the beginning...

I know it's not comparable, but Seteth (or some nuns?) mentions how he hasn't heard a thing about the faithful in the Empire... so either they were killed because they were practicionners of the Seiros faith, or because they rebelled/protested against the war and were, uh, disposed of (tfw the games never care about telling us who were the humans used to create the various imperial demonic beasts we see).

FWIW, I have a plotbunny idea where someone pretending to be Hresvelg bastard - with a crest of Seiros - wants to ask for Nopes!Rhea's help to support his claim to the throne, since Supreme Leader declared her war against the Church, he can put an end to it if he becomes Emperor, right? The CoS is torn between accepting "it would create at least some instability in the Empire, so the Kingdom could breathe a bit and maybe use this opportunity to finally fend them off if the Emperor calls back her troops in Enbarr" and "the CoS doesn't meddle in the affairs of humans like succession issues and only does so if it's to prevent a war but here you want us to create a civil war??"

*it's a novel so historical accuracy isn't that high, and yet, even if it's a porn book, why adding this detail in the background - just like people listening to music - I doubt it was written by a Faerghian writter so what, was this detail "northmen were slaughtered by beasts in the background and it was very funny lol" added just as a background thing, like fish being served as a meal ("historical" detail that might have been true!) or...?

[vapaus-ystavyys-tasaarvo]

For Les Mis Letters context: A quick timeline of French history from the Revolution to 1806, when Myriel becomes the Bishop of Digne:

(I'm marking all the years just to make it easier to visually follow the timeline, but I'm only noting a few events that I think are relevant. Too much happens in this era to list it all.)

THE TIMELINE:

1789: Estates General, the storming of the Bastille (14 July), the National Assembly -> the National Constituent Assembly, abolition of feudal privileges

1790

1791: Constitution of 1791, the Legislative Assembly, France becomes a constitutional monarchy, the Haitian Revolution begins

1792: The Revolutionary Wars begin; the "miraclous" French victory at Valmy, France is declared republic, the National Convention replaces the Legislative Assembly, the Republican Calendar established, etc.

1793: Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette executed, the counter-revolutionary uprising in the Vendée begins, Constitution of year I, Reign of Terror begins

1794: Reign of Terror ends

1795: Constitution of year III, the more conservative Directory replaces the National Convention, First White Terror

1796: The War in the Vendée ends

1797

1798

1799: Napoleon Bonaparte's coup d'état (18 Brumaire); the Consulate replaces the Directory, Bonaparte becomes First Consul

1800

1801

1802: Bonaparte First Consul for life, the Revolutionary Wars end*

1803: The Napoleonic Wars begin*

1804: Napoleon declares himself emperor (and Myriel has a little chat with him), the Napoleonic Code

1805: Great French victory in Austerlitz against the Russo-Austrian forces, decisive British naval victory against the French in Trafalgar, Republican Calendar abolished

1806: Decisive French victory in Jena against the Prussians (Myriel becomes the Bishop of Digne)

NOTES:

Don’t worry, I won’t list any more specific battles, aside from Waterloo.

Valmy was the first victory of the French Revolutionary army, which proved that French volunteers could match against professional soldiers, Austerlitz is the big one for Napoleon, Trafalgar is the big one for the British, Jena is another big one for Napoleon, and finally Waterloo will of course end it all once we get there.

The only reason I’m even bringing up this many battles is because Hugo is a Napoleon nerd, so unfortunately you will have to hear about them (and many more) sooner or later anyway. (Also I added Valmy just for myself, Hugo only mentions it once in Les Mis)

* I'm not bothering to mark all the different wars; France was almost continuously at war from the 1792 to 1815 (the entire period of the First Republic plus the entire period of the First Empire) with only a few short breaks. People can't even agree on when the Revolutionary Wars turn into the Napoleonic Wars.

I also left out all the constitutions after year III, because there are too many of them and nobody cares.

[amateurvoltaire]

So I managed to drag the family to the Vendee for what my loving husband calls a trip to "look at obscure things no one knows about and eat loads of brioche." I'm working on a proper post to document the whole adventure because I really want to remember all the details. But, for now, let's focus on what's important:

For anyone burning with curiosity, I can confirm that baby generalissimo extraordinaire is both cute and surprisingly imposing in his all his statue glory.

[hejdzz]

Julien le Blant, Destruction of the tree of liberty, XIX c, Musée de Cholet

I stumbled upon this artwork by accident while browsing collections of the Cholet art museum. It depicts one of the very common scenes from the Vendée war: the peasants burning the tree of liberty, which for them was actually a symbol of oppression. Le Blant's ability to convey a subtle sense of irony in his works is for me what makes his art so captivating and even disturbing at times.

[racefortheironthrone]

I remember you once said that at the height of the Terror in revolutionary France their trials had an acquittal rate of 1 in 4, or even a conviction rate—do I remember right? Do you remember your citation?

Here's your citation. (p.7) As someone who's studied the history of Revolutionary France in some detail, I think that the modern historical imagination of the pitiless revolutionary tribunal, the whole Tale of Two Cities/Scarlet Pimpernel thing, is something of a mistake in focus if you want to understand where the violence was actually happening during Revolutionary France.

The real story was the French civil war that was going on in the Vendée that almost no one learns about in school - and the irony is that, while the Jacobins fought the civil war, they weren't really the ones who caused it.

Instead, we have to go back to 1789 and all those Enlightenment liberals in the National Aseembly and Constituent Assembly who are considered part of the "good" Revolution. These guys tended to be pretty damn anti-clerical - hence abolishing the tithe and ecclesiastical privileges in the August Decrees, hence the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen including freedom of religion in a country that had been officially Catholic, hence the confiscation of Church land, and most especially the Civil Constitution of the Clergy that required Catholic priests to swear an oath of loyalty to the French Constitution over the Pope.

All of this, together with the abolition of feudalism and the introduction of the levee en masse, was really unpopular in the heavily conservative, royalist, and Catholic Vendée region and in 1793 a revolt began which saw the people of the Vendée form a "Royal and Catholic Army" which aimed at nothing less than a full-blown counter-revolution with support from Great Britain.

From the beginning, the War in the Vendée was a civil war without quarter, without restrictions, and without mercy. Rebels massacred revolutionaries, revolutionaries massacred rebels, cities were routinely sacked, military prisoners were executed en masse, and every kind of war crime was legitimized as general policy to punish the enemy under the logic of retaliation. The numbers tell the tale: while around 50,000 soldiers died in the fighting, anywhere from 100-200,000 civilians died.

Compared to the Vendée, the Terror was a sideshow.

[illustratus]

François-Athanase de Charette de La Contrie by Jean-Baptiste Paulin Guérin

[alcarinquestar]

My Presentation on 93

Professors, friends, and esteemed guests,

I have the honour to present to you today an unparalleled book: Ninety-Three by Mr. Victor Hugo, whom we all recognise as a giant—not just of French letters, but of the world. To our great shame, although other works by Mr. Hugo are frequently read today, Ninety-Three, his last novel, has been largely forgotten; indeed, at this present moment no reputable publishing company is printing it in the English language.

I am here for the express purpose of reviving Anglophone interest in Ninety-Three. I consider this book a work of French Romanticism par excellence, for several reasons. First, it is an exercise of Hugo's literary theory, set forth as early as 1827 in the Preface to Cromwell, though never until now so perfectly demonstrated; second, in it we see the author’s reflections on a momentous point in history, the French Revolution, itself full of dramatic and philosophical potential. Additionally, the book is well-paced— which is perhaps the most difficult achievement of all for a work of this author. In sum, this book has everything that is required for a novel to ascend to the literary pantheon of the western canon: it has drama; it has depth; it is entertaining; it is true. Let us hasten, then, to place it where it deserves to be.

To understand the genius of Ninety-Three, one must understand the symbolic significance of its characters. But before I go any further, let us provide a general idea of the plot. In one sentence, it is a tale of the struggle between republicans and royalists in the Vendée (that is, Brittany), during the height of the Reign of Terror—hence the name, which is short for Seventeen Ninety-Three. Hugo divides the novel into three parts: At Sea, In Paris, and In la Vendée.

The story begins with a sort of prologue, an encounter between the republican Battalion of the Bonnet-Rouge and a Briton peasant woman and her three children, who are fleeing the war. They are quickly adopted by the battalion. We shall soon see why they are important. For the present our attention is redirected to the island of Jersey, an English possession, where a French royalist crew is preparing for a secret expedition. An old man boards the ship. He is in peasant dress, but by his demeanor seems to be an aristocrat. In the rest of At Sea we become acquainted with this jolly royalist crew—only to see them all perish in a naval battle before they ever reach the coast of France. Yet the old man escapes with the sailor Halmalo, and they land in Brittany in a little rowboat. He sends Halmalo off to rouse a general insurrection. Then, upon reading a placard, learns that his presence in Brittany has been known, and that someone named Gauvain is hunting him down, which sends him into a shock. Despite his dire situation, our protagonist is recognised by an old beggar named Tellemarch, who conceals him. We discover that he is none other than the Marquis de Lantenac, Prince in Brittany, coming back to lead the rebellion.

In the second part, In Paris, we are introduced to another character: Cimourdain. Cimourdain is a revolutionary priest, a man of iron will, with one weakness only: his affection for a pupil he had long ago, who was the grand-nephew of a great lord. At this period, however, Cimourdain dedicated himself completely to the revolution. Such was his formidable reputation that Cimourdain was able to intrude upon a meeting of the three terrible revolutionary men, Danton, Marat, and Robespierre, and cause his opinion to prevail among them. Robespierre then appoints Cimourdain as a delegate of the Committee of Public Safety, and sends him off to deal with the situation in Vendée. He is told that his mission is to watch a young commander, a ci-devant noble, named Gauvain. This name also sends Cimourdain into a shock.

Gauvain, in fact, is none other than the grand-nephew of the Marquis de Lantenac, in whose household the priest Cimourdain had been employed. Although they have not met for many years, there is a close bond between the master and pupil, and both adhere to the same revolutionary ideal. Hugo has set the stage. In the last part, In la Vendée, these epic forces are hurled against each other in the siege of the Gauvain family’s ancestral castle, La Tourgue. On the one side, we have the republican besiegers, Gauvain and Cimourdain, and on the other, the Marquis de Lantenac and his Briton warriors, the besieged. The Marquis has one last card to play: he has, as hostages, the children of the Battalion of the Bonnet-Rouge. For the safety of his party, he offers the life of the three children, whom he has placed in the chatelet adjoining the castle of La Tourgue, which will be burned upon attack. The republicans refuse. The siege begins, bloody for the republicans, hopeless for the royalists. At the last moment, by a stroke of fate the royalists contrive to escape, leaving behind an exasperated republican army, and a burning house. The republicans try to rescue the children, but find this impossible, as they can neither scale the walls of the chatelet, nor open the iron door that leads to it. As this is happening, the Marquis hears the desperate cries of the mother in the distance. Beyond all expectation, he returns, opens the door with his key, steps into the fire, and saves the children. Thereupon he is seized by Cimourdain, who proclaims that Lantenac will be promptly guillotined. Yet unbeknownst to Cimourdain, Lantenac’s heroic act of self-sacrifice set off a crisis of conscience in the gentle Gauvain, who fought for the republic of mercy, not the republic of vengeance. The final battle takes place in the human heart.

I will not divulge the ending. Already we can see that these characters are at once human, and more than human. “The stage is an optical point,” says Hugo in the Preface to Cromwell, “Everything that exists in the world—in history, in life, in man—should be and can be reflected therein, but under the magic wand of art.” Men assume gigantic proportions. They become ideas. The three central characters each represent a force. In the lights and shadows of their souls, we have symbols of the lights and shadows of a whole age. The fifteen centuries of feudalism, the Bourbon monarchy, the France of the past, when condensed into an object is the looming castle La Tourgue, and when incarnate is Lantenac. The twelve months of the revolutionary terror, the Committee of Public Safety, the France of the moment, is as an object the guillotine, as a man Cimoudain. The immense future is Gauvain. Lantenac is old; Cimourdain middle-aged; Gauvain young.

Let us look at each of these characters in turn.

I admit that Lantenac is my favourite character. In his human aspect he is impressive, and very compellingly written. Almost immediately upon introduction, he manifests a ferocious justice in the affair of Halmalo’s brother, a gunner who endangered the whole ship by his neglect, and who saved it in a terrifying struggle between vis et vir, between an invincible brass carronade and frail humanity. Lantenac awarded this man the Cross of Saint-Louis, and then had him shot. To the vengeful Halmalo, his justification is this: “As for me, I did my duty, first in saving your brother’s life, and then in taking it from him [...] He has failed his duty; I have not failed mine.” This episode sums up Lantenac’s character. True to life and true to the principle of romantic drama, Lantenac contains both the grotesque and the sublime, sometimes even in the same action. Like the Cromwell that inspired in posterity such horror and admiration, he shoots women, but saves children. He martyrs others, but is at every point prepared to be the martyr.

As an idea he is the ultimate embodiment of the Ancien Régime. Though himself unpretentious, Lantenac is perfectly aware of the role he must play. He demonstrates perfectly, unlike conventional aristocrats in literature, the principle of noblesse oblige and the justice of the suum cuique. He believes that he is the representative of divine right, not out of arrogance, but as a matter of fact. “This is the question,” he tells Gauvain in their first and last interview, “to be a Great Kingdom, to be the ancient France, [is] to be this magnificent land of system [...] There was something fine and noble in this system. You have destroyed it [...] like the miserable ignoramuses you are [...] Go! Do your work! Be the new man! Become pygmies! [...] But leave us great.” The force which animates Lantenac is his duty, merciless, towards the old monarchical order—until the principle was overcome by the man, who was still able to be moved by helpless innocence.

The first thing that Hugo felt it was necessary to know about Cimourdain is that he is a priest. “He had been a priest, which is a solemn thing. Man may have, like the sky, a dark and impenetrable serenity; that something should have caused the night to fall in his soul is all that is required. [...] Cimourdain was full of virtues and truth, but they shine out against a dark background.” There is an admirable purity about him: it is symbolic that we always see him rushing into the thick of battle, but never firing his weapon. He aids the poor, relieves the suffering, dresses the wounded. By his virtues he seems Christlike, but unlike Christ, his is an icy virtue, the virtue of duty, not love; a justice which knows not mercy—“the blind certainty of an arrow,” which imparts to this sublimity a touch of the ridiculous. It is a short step from greatness to madness. Still, there remains some humanity in Cimourdain, on account of his love for Gauvain. Through this love that he is able to live, as a man, and not merely as the mechanical execution of an idea.

On the surface Cimourdain has renounced his priesthood. But, Hugo reminds us, “once a priest, always a priest.” He is still a priest, but a priest of the Revolution, which he believes to have come from God. There is a similarity between Cimourdain and Lantenac, though they are on the two diametrically opposed sides of the revolution. Both are bound by duty to their cause. Both are ferocious. When Robespierre commissioned Cimourdain, he answered: “Yes, I accept. Terror against terror, Lantenac is cruel. I shall be cruel. War to the death against this man. I will deliver the Republic from him, so it please God." Quite appropriately he is represented by the image of the axe—realised in the guillotine erected in the final chapter. As with Lantenac, the Cimourdain of relentless revolutionary justice eventually finds himself face to face with the human Cimourdain, the spiritual father of Gauvain, the embodiment of mercy.

Gauvain at a glance seems to be a character of simple conception: his defining characteristic is an almost angelic goodness. He is also the pivotal point in the story: on one hand, he is the son of Cimourdain, a republican, and on the other, he is the son of the Gauvain family, Lantenac’s heir. Through him, we are reminded that the Vendée is a fratricidal war. Allusions abound in the novel, for example, when Cimourdain declared his brotherhood with the royalist resistors, a voice, implied to be Lantenac’s, answered, “Yes, Cain.” Gauvain finds himself caught in the middle of such a frightful war. At first, he was able to overlook his kinship with Lantenac, on account of the older man’s monstrosities, but with Lantenac redeemed by his self-sacrifice, it becomes impossible to ignore his threefold obligation: to family, to nation, and to humanity. It is because of this that duty, which seemed so plain to Cimourdain, rose “complex, varied, and tortuous” before Gauvain. The fact is, far from being simple, Gauvain's goodness is neither effortless nor plain, and we are reminded that the most colossal battles of nobility against complacency often happen in the most sensitive of consciences.

Indeed, the triumph of Gauvain is a triumph of the moral conscience, the light which is said to come from the great Unknown, over the dismal times of revolution and internecine strife, “in the midst of the conflagration of all enmity and all vengeance, [...] at that instant [...] when everything becomes a projectile [...], when [...] justice, honesty, and truth are lost sight of [...]” To Hugo, the Revolution is a tempest, in the midst of which we find its tragic actors, forbidding figures as Cimourdain, Lantenac, and the delegates of the Convention, some supremely sublime, some utterly grotesque, and many both: “a pile of heroes, a herd of cowards.” But, at the same time, “The eternal serenity does not suffer from these north winds. Above Revolutions, Truth and Justice reign, as the starry heavens above the tempest.” Gauvain finally comes to peace with this realisation, and we hear him saying, “Moreover, what is the tempest to me, if I have the compass? And what difference can events make to me, if I have my conscience?”

But Ninety-Three is, after all, a tragic book. We might ask whether it is not the case that Gauvain is too much of an idealist. He wishes to found a Republic of Intellect, where perpetual peace eliminates all war, and where man, having passed through the instruction of family, master, country, and humanity, finally arrives at God. “Gauvain, come back to earth,” says Cimourdain. To this Gauvain cannot make a reply. He can only point us upwards, by self-denial, and by his love, towards the ideal.

And the task of the novel is no more than this, this reminder of the reality of life. The drama was created, as the Preface to Cromwell declares, “On the day when Christianity said to man: ‘Thou art [...] made up of two beings, one perishable, the other immortal, [...] one enslaved by appetites, cravings and passions, the other borne aloft on the wings of enthusiasm and reverie—in a word, the one always stooping toward the earth, its mother, the other always darting up toward heaven, its fatherland.’” And did not Ninety-Three achieve this? The legend of La Vendée, like the stage, takes crude history and distills from it reality. Let us conclude with this passage from the novel itself:

“Still, history and legend have the same end, depicting [the] man eternal in the man of the passing moment.”