Angela | she/her | writer, artist & reader | history major | european, english is not my first language | absolutely obsessed with frev to the point of learning a new language because of it
nothing funnier to me than when AI does math wrong. like I get why it happens, it's a language model that's treating the numbers you feed it as words rather than integers and then giving you an answer based on how those words typically appear in a block of text instead of actually performing a calculation. but the one thing computers are genuinely incredible at. you fucked up a perfectly good calculator is what you did, look at it it's got hallucinations
At the time, the use of “tu” was mandatory in administration. They would have all been addressing each other with “tu” in official public settings (the Convention, the CPS, etc.) so it’s interesting to see Lebas switching back to “vous” in private. It’s also possible that Saint-Just was only applying the law to his private sphere, but we’d have to see how he addressed other people.
No, it was not. Not yet anyway. And it was never applied as well as some desired it to be. It was hardly enforceable.
At the time this letter is written, the proposed change is being pushed but isn't quite present in their minds yet. In Saint-Just's military correspondance to generals, he goes back and forth between "tu" and "vous", sometimes with the same person, with one day apart. That's in Fall 1793. By Spring '94, he uses "tu" consistently.
This is why what's going on here is special and noteworthy.
(I've spent the last month studying the uses of the "tu" and the "vous".)
Let me just stress that I’m not arguing against the idea that Saint-Just's use of “tu” towards Robespierre may imply a special bond. I’m curious if it could be an instance of SJ’s enthusiasm for new republican practices.
That letter was written on 15 Brumaire II (November 5, 1793) which coincides with when the CPS started to use “tu” in its correspondence around October 31. I’ve found secondary sources saying that a decree was passed a few days later on November 8, making tutoiement mandatory, but I couldn’t find a copy. In any case, I agree it would have been impossible to fully enforce even among officials. Nevertheless, citizens were encouraged to drop the “vous” at the time, particularly in official public settings.
I wouldn’t leave out that Saint-Just was actively applying the new norm here, especially since it was gathering attention at the time. SJ and Robespierre both being members of the CPS, they were 1)familiar with the practice 2)familiar with one another; it must have been easy to adopt tutoiement among each other.
I'm just saying, it's during the period of transition and Saint-Just still applies it inconsistently. The most striking example is here with Pichegru:
You also see on the same day that he switches to "tu" with Pichegru, he forgets (?) to do so in the previous message.
Le Bas' letter to Robespierre, and especially Saint-Just's post-scriptum, indicate it would be a bit more personal rather than intended as public CSP communications. In any way, the interesting thing I'm pointing out is that Le Bas uses "vous", while Saint-Just has much easier switched to "tu". Even later, after his wedding to Élisabeth, when he's practically almost sort-of Robespierre's brother-in-law (whether you consider his future wedding to Éléonore a possibility, or take into consideration how Élisabeth sees him as an adoptive older brother), Le Bas still uses "vous".
It confirms what both Charlotte and Élisabeth respectively said in their memoirs: Maximilien felt closer to Saint-Just, while Le Bas felt closer to Augustin.
Even nowadays, the customs and knowledge of when to switch from "vous" to "tu" remains complicated in French-speaking societies. It is in my own life in certain occasions with certain people. So I think it's a very interesting historical example.
As I was preparing my masterpost on Robespierre and Saint-Just's relationship, I noticed this post might need further context and a translation.
ORIGINAL
Strasbourg, 15 du 2e mois de l'an II.
Hérault vient de nous annoncer, mon cher Robespierre, qu'il était envoyé dans le département du Haut-Rhin. Il nous propose une correspondance ; notre surprise est extrême. Au reste, ce n'est pas la seule chose qui nous paraisse extraordinaire. Pourquoi ceux qui étaient ici lorsqu'on força les lignes de Weissembourg ne sont-ils pas remplacés, et pourquoi laisser ici des représentants forcés par la nature de leur mission à s'isoler de leurs collègues ! Je n'ai pas le temps de vous en dire davantage; mais j'espère que vous voudrez bien nous écrire là-dessus vos idées. Je vous embrasse.
LE BAS
Et plus bas, de l'écriture de Saint-Just :
La confiance n'a plus de prix, lorsqu'on la partage avec des hommes corrompus ; alors on fait son devoir par le seul amour de la patrie, et ce sentiment est plus pur. Je t'embrasse, mon ami.
SAINT-JUST.
TRANSLATION
Strasbourg, 15th of the 2nd Month of Year II. (1)
Hérault has just informed us, my dear Robespierre, that he has been sent to the département of Haut-Rhin (2). He proposes a correspondence with us; our surprise is extreme (3). Besides, that is not the only thing that seems extraordinary to us. Why have those who were here when the lines at Wissembourg were breached not been replaced, and why leave here representatives who, by the nature of their mission, are forced to isolate themselves from their colleagues! I do not have time to tell you (4) more; but I hope that you (4) will write to us with your (4) thoughts on the matter. I embrace you (4).
LE BAS
Lower, in Saint-Just's handwriting:
Trust is worthless when shared with corrupt men (5); then one does one's duty out of love for the patrie alone, and this sentiment is purer. I embrace you (6), my friend.
SAINT-JUST
NOTES
(1) This would be 15 brumaire or 5 November 1793. The report by Fabre d'Églantine introducing the names of the months had been presented to the Convention less than two weeks before on 24 October. It shows that even Le Bas and Saint-Just were not used to the new nomenclature yet. (However, Saint-Just did not seen to care much about dates back in 1791 either!)
(2) According to Michel Biard, Hérault's mission started on 5 brumaire an II (26 October 1793). Saint-Just and Le Bas were assigned to the army of the Rhine by order (arrêté) of the Committee of Public Safety on 17 October and confirmed by decree (décret) on 22 October. Bernard Vinot says Saint-Just left on 17 October (26 vendémiaire).
(3) It's interesting to compare with Couthon's letter of 20 October from Lyon where he talked about receiving letters from Hérault but not from Saint-Just. While he didn't mind keeping a correspondence with Hérault then, it "surprises" Le Bas and Saint-Just 16 days later. However, this might reveal personal enmity (Saint-Just had a few reasons to dislike Hérault) more than a quick change in revolutionary politics as Hérault hadn't been accused of anything yet. He was denounced a month later on December 16 at the Convention by Bourdon (from the Oise département), in the presence of Couthon who defended him and demanded they wait for his return from mission:
Bourdon (from the Oise). I am taking advantage of the previous speaker's opinion. I denounce to you the ci-devant Attorney General, the ci-devant noble Hérault-Séchelles, member of the Committee of Public Safety and currently commissioner to the Army of the Rhine, for his connections with Pereyra, Dubuisson, and Proly.
Bentabole. A colleague of ours is being denounced, one who has made himself known through acts of patriotism, who worked on our immortal Constitution and was its rapporteur. This colleague is absent; the Convention must hear him before passing judgment. Is it not possible to have known people who have since become suspects, and yet still be a good patriot? I note that Lepelletier was, like Hérault-Séchelles, a ci-devant member of the Parlement and a former noble, yet he earned his place in the Panthéon.
Couthon. I ask for the adjournment of Bourdon's proposal. I do not know if Hérault has had connections with suspicious individuals; I have known him on the Committee of Public Safety, and I have never noticed him straying from the path of patriotism. He is currently absent; wait until he has arrived and can respond to the accusation made against him.
(4) Le Bas consistently uses the more polite "vous" to refer to Robespierre alone.
(5) One must wonder if Saint-Just's postscript directly relates to Hérault or to other representatives he might disagree with and disapprove of while having to work with them on mission. Marc-Antoine Baudot, for example, had just been sent to the armies of the Rhine and the Moselle two days earlier on 13 brumaire (3 novembre). The timing is a bit close, but it's possible he had already arrived. They were not on good terms, as Baudot expresses in his own memoirs.
(6) Saint-Just uses "tu".
COMMENTARY
This letter most likely was not official correspondence as the way they complain about Hérault and reject the idea of keeping a correspondence with him doesn't seem like something they would like the rest of the Committee of Public Safety to know.
If this is personal correspondence between Saint-Just and Le Bas to Robespierre, there's no reason to strictly adhere to the tutoiement, which the Committee of Public Safety made an administrative rule to use on 10 brumaire (31 October). (See the article below.)
Assuming that Saint-Just is only doing it to obey a law (when he's still inconsistently doing it with Pichegru a week later) or to prove his revolutionary fervor (something he doesn't need to prove by then) is rather reductive, especially when Le Bas is still writing "vous" in the same letter. It would be more appropriate to attribute this to a difference in temperament and in closeness/intimacy, which reflects what Élisabeth Duplay-Le Bas wrote in her memoirs that her husband told her (it's Philippe Le Bas who speaks in this quote):
Finally Robespierre came one day; he was the only man from whom I could have had news of you; but how unhappy I was! I did not know how I could ask him. [...] Robespierre the Younger came at last to see me. What joy for me! I was more familiar with him: we were of the same age. We spoke of his brother. Finally, I could no longer restrain myself; I spoke to him of your family, of your sisters; I spoke to him of you, my Élisabeth.
Moreover, the tone is a bit different between the two messages in the letter to Robespierre. While Le Bas gives general news and complaints (he's basically asking "why are the incompetent people who let the enemy through still hanging around?"), Saint-Just's post-scriptum feels like heartfelt advice given with melancholy. Even if he phrases it with his usual aphoristic style, the content itself feels deeply personal.
It's also interesting to note that in Couthon's letter to Saint-Just of 20 October (which also cannot be official Committee of Public Safety correspondence either considering the intimate tone), he uses the "tu" and "my dear friend".
We can officially retire the idea that these men think of themselves only in terms of "work colleagues": they considered each other to be friends. Not only is the concept of "work colleague" as defined by 21st century corporate culture completely alien to them, we already know from Saint-Just's philosophy how fundamental friendship is to his model of society. This sharp divide between workplace relationship and intimate friendship doesn't exist to them. While the Revolution will see the eventual divide between the public and private spheres consecrated in the 19th century, the principles of Year II that the Robespierristes believe in advocate instead for a blurring of the spheres in adherence to the ideal of transparency, especially for public officials. If anything, they truly do believe in the idea that the personal is political.
ON THE REVOLUTIONARY "TU"
Translated extract from Philippe Wolff's article:
The Chronique de Paris of October 3, 1792, declared: "If vous suits Monsieur, then tu suits Citoyen." And it commented: "Under the happy reign of equality, familiarity is but a reflection of the philanthropic virtues we hold in our hearts." On 10 Brumaire Year II (October 31, 1793), a delegate of the Popular Societies, Malbec, recalling that "the principles of our language must be as dear to us as the laws of our Republic," concluded: "I ask, on behalf of all my constituents, a decree stating that all French Republicans shall be required in the future, in order to conform to the principles of their language regarding the distinction between singular and plural, to use the tu without distinction toward those they speak to individually, under pain of being declared suspect, as flatterers, by such means lending support to the arrogance that serves as a pretext for inequality among us." Bazire demanded that a decree be issued ordering everyone to use the tu (21 Brumaire Year II, November 11, 1793). However, his colleague Thuriot opposed this in the name of liberty: "It is well known that vous is absurd, that it is a linguistic error to speak to one person as one would speak to two or many, but is it not also contrary to liberty to prescribe to citizens the manner in which they must express themselves? It is not a crime to speak French poorly." And the Convention followed his lead.
Since 10 Brumaire Year II (October 31, 1793), the Committee of Public Safety made it a rule to use the tu with everyone. The example was followed. The chief engineer of Bridges and Roads in Haute-Garonne wrote to the Minister of the Interior: "I am sending you [tu] a summary report on the roads..." On 22 Brumaire (November 12), the director of the Paris département ordered the use of the tu. Teachers were encouraged to have their students address them with the tu. The practice spread to the armies: General Bigarré recounts in his Mémoires that "if an officer or soldier had dared to speak to Adjutant General Bernard without using tu, he would have run his saber through him." The navy followed suit, though not without some reluctance or exceptions.
If you talk about Robespierre in conjunction with left wing politics [or even if you are just a left wing person who also talks about Robespierre], it will scare people off.
But the only way to dispel those myths that scare people off (not just with regard to the French Revolution, but all the dire warnings about any progress "going too far") is to talk about Robespierre.
(ooc: I concur with you. People aren't ready for that conversation, unfortunately, when they were fed a lot of Thermidorian propaganda about his role in the Terror, by a lot of historians that are very resistant and hostile against the Revolution. People still idolize Marie Antoinette and her own role in her downfall. People have not changed, unfortunately. You'd think his reputation would be salvaged by works by McPhee and others but alas, it hasn't. I feel like it's darkened him more. Perhaps, I'm wrong but I hope that I am. )
Joyeux anniversaire, Robespierre. Wherever you are, thank you again and here's to another year.
*The biography is called Robespierre: A Revolutionary Life. For the Introduction's title, Peter Mcphee was in fact referencing another quote by another biographer (Janet Malcolm) for a different biography.
My Favorite Passages from Saint-Just's Letters to Beuvin (Spring 1791)
The letters to Beuvin were written in the spring of 1791, shortly before the publication of Saint-Just's first political essay, Esprit de la Révolution et de la Constitution de France. Published in June, the essay was intended to bolster his candidacy for the Legislative Assembly elections that summer - an ambitious run he attempted despite still being a legal minor.
While his age ultimately prevented him from being seated, the work earned him significant notoriety. In his memoirs, Barère notes the essay's success, and historian Antoine Boulant affirms in his biography of Saint-Just that the publication was instrumental in helping the young revolutionary make a name for himself.
For over a century, the two letters published by Charles Vellay in 1910 represented the extent of our knowledge regarding this correspondence. This changed in 2024, when Mathias Boussemart, a PhD candidate in the history of law, "discovered" three "new" letters. These were found within a collection of papers belonging to the Conventionnel Louis François Portiez de l'Oise (1765–1810).
Originally stored in the Bibliothèque de l'Assemblée nationale in 1832, the documents were transferred to the Archives nationales de France in 1920. However, because an inventory of these specific papers had never been conducted, they remained hidden in plain sight for over a hundred years. It is a powerful reminder of what historical treasures may still be "sleeping" within the Archives!
I am currently working (I have been for some time actually) on a complete translation of these letters. It is a meticulous process, as I am striving to remain as faithful as possible to the original 18th century nuance while ensuring the text remains accessible to modern readers. Until the full set is ready, I have selected a few extracts that I find particularly illuminating. They offer a unique window into Saint-Just's mindset during the years immediately preceding the National Convention.
[Ch. Vellay Transcriptions]
First letter:
"It is unfortunate, and I have told myself this many times over the past two years, that I am as much a slave to my adolescence as I truly am. You are not the first to make me bitterly regret possessing nothing; it would have been pleasant to find at home, as it is in my own feelings, what you ask of me, though I am fortunate if I have found it elsewhere. If I were the master, I would ask for nothing better than to help you in a powerful way in a career that requires wealth. But do you know my age? I am 23 years, 5 months, and a few days old."
"Il est malheureux, et je me le suis dit plusieurs fois depuis ces deux années, que je sois aussi esclave que je le suis de mon adolescence. Vous n'êtes point le premier qui me faites regretter amèrement de ne posséder rien, il m'aurait été agréable de trouver chez moi comme il l'est dans mes sentimens ce que vous me demandiés (*), heureux toutesfois si je l'ai trouvé ailleurs. Si j'étais le maître, je ne demanderais pas mieux que de vous aider d'une manière puissante dans une carrière où il faut de la fortune. Mais savés-vous (*) mon âge? J'ai 23 ans, 5 mois et quelques jours."
Second letter:
"Tell me what you think. I have the desire to start a journal until I turn 25, because I'm only 23, what am I supposed to do? I'm bored and this constant work in solitude is an obsession. Besides, I wish I were in Paris to frequent the libraries, which I can no longer do without."
"Dites-moi ce que vous en pensés (*). J'ai envie d'entreprendre un journal jusqu'à ce que mes 25 ans me viennent, car je n'en ai que 23, que faire? Je m'ennuie et ce travail continuel dans la solitude m'obsède. D'ailleurs je voudrais être à Paris pour fréquenter les bibliothèques dont je ne puis plus me passer."
(*) This would not have been considered "bad spelling" at the time. His use of this form is entirely consistent and reflects a common orthographic variant in use before French spelling was standardized. It wasn't until the 1835 reform of the Académie Française that French spelling was fully modernized into the forms we use today - for instance, replacing the "-ois" endings with "-ais", such as changing françois to français.
[M. Boussemart Transcriptions]
Third letter:
"You might send copies of my book to Laon, to Waroquier's in Soissons, to St. Quentin, and to Devin's in Noyon. I am known in all those parts; it is my département."
I forgot Château-Thierry.
"Vous pourriez faire passer des exemplaires de mon livre à Laon, à Soisson chez Waroquier, à St Quentin, à Noyon chez Devin. Je suis connu dans tous ces pays-là, c'est mon département.
J'oubliai Château-Thierry."
Fourth letter:
Dated 10 or 11 March 1791.
"You quite rightly anticipated that I would be awaiting your response with the utmost impatience. In truth, I feared that you had sent me packing. I take a sincere interest in your affliction; however, it does not befit a man of wit to succumb to it."
"Vous prévoyiez bien justement que je devais attendre votre réponse avec la dernière impatience. J'ai en vérité cru que vous m'aviez envoyé promener. Je prends part avec un véritable intérêt à votre mal, mais il n'appartient point à un homme d'esprit d'y succomber."
"The title of the work does not please me; it strikes me as a bit inflated. Substitute it with this one: Public Law of the French and Revolution in France."
"Le titre de l'ouvrage ne me plait pas, il me parait un peu enflé. Substituez-y celui-ci : Droit public des Français et révolution en France."
"I am a man truly vexed at being unable to do as I please to fulfill your wishes, but no one possesses more goodwill nor more impotence than I do at this moment. How much bitterness my legal minority brings me - not to mention the bitterness of being unfit for any employment, and of being in this world as if I had no motherland at all."
"Je suis un homme bien fâché de ne pouvoir faire à mon gré ce que vous souhaitez mais personne n'a plus que moi de bonne volonté et d'impuissance pour le moment. Combien ma minorité me coûte d'amertume, sans compter celle d’être inhabile à tout emploi et d'être au monde comme si je n'avais point de patrie."
Fifth letter:
"I would, however, prefer the title Public Law or the Spirit of the Revolution of France, and here is why: as I have often strayed from my subject, I have seemed more to expand upon the principles of the public law of this France than I have appeared merely to lay them down. The first title was sufficient, in truth, according to the first draft; it has become insignificant following everything I have sent you since."
"J'aimerais mieux pourtant le titre Droit public ou esprit de la révolution de France, voici pourquoi : comme souvent je suis sorti de mon sujet, j'ai plus semblé étendre les principes du droit public de cette France que je n'ai paru les poser seulement. Le premier titre suffisait à la vérité selon la première rédaction ; il est insignifiant depuis tout ce que je vous ai fait passer."
What These Letters Can Teach Us About Saint-Just
These rare glimpses into Saint-Just's interiority stand in stark contrast to the rigid, official correspondence that dominates his surviving record. Here, we find the portrait of an anxious young man at a threshold, transitioning from years of local activism in Blérancourt toward the national stage. We witness a profound, human vulnerability: his loneliness, his desperation for the intellectual life of Paris, and his plans for a journal as a remedy to this isolation. We even witness his fear that his editor might have abandoned him.
In these letters, the man of "twenty-three years and five months" literally counts the days to his majority. He is powerless and terrified that the first serious political work into which he poured his soul might be suppressed or discarded. It is perhaps one the most fragile moments we have of him - there is no arrogance or aggression, merely a young thinker facing the existential dread of being silenced before he has even begun.
A Few More Notes:
1. We see him being knowledgeable about his region when he notes to Beuvin the places (Laon, Soissons, St-Quentin, Noyon and Château-Thierry) his book should be sold at: "I am known in all those parts; it is my département." Indeed, Bernard Vinot mentions the relevance of these places in his biography:
[This passage comes right after the one I already shared here.]
THE BAPTISM OF THE ROSTRUM AT CHAUNY
The fate of this address was barely known before Saint-Just won a new triumph. From May 17 to 20, he participated in the assembly of electors called to choose the capital of the Aisne department. The meeting took place in the Saint-Martin church of Chauny, on neutral ground. A sharp rivalry pitted Soissons, the former administrative capital (chef-lieu de généralité), against the city of Laon, which benefited from its central position. In an attempt to thwart Laon, Soissons had obtained the annexation of the Château-Thierry region to the new department, stretching it significantly toward the south. However, as the northern districts were the most populated, it was predictable that the electors would choose Laon.
As the spokesperson for the canton of Blérancourt, Saint-Just feared not facing the assembly, but rather being unable to speak at all. He was not yet twenty-three years old, and twenty-five was the requirement for participating in political life. Granted, the entry control was not extremely rigorous, and he could allow some uncertainty to linger: born in Decize, he hoped it would be impossible to verify his records. But he had everything to fear from his adversaries. Thus, he had to resort to the help of "burly" companions to get rid of Gellé, who had denounced him ("he was thrown out by the shoulders," he would later confide to Desmoulins), in order to enter. Mandated to support Soissons, he strove above all to make himself known and appreciated by an audience composed, in his own words, of "men of every stripe and caliber." These were men he could not afford to alienate, for two obstacles stood in the path of his candidacy: age and the cens (since the end of 1789, to be eligible for the Assembly, one had to pay a "silver mark" in taxes, or 50 francs). Fulfilling neither of these conditions, it was in Saint-Just's best interest to charm his high-ranking listeners, which he did with the skill of a seasoned politician.
He apologized for his youth and gave thanks for the indulgence shown to him and for the lesson in democracy he was being offered. He expressed regret at having to take a side: "My conscience belongs to one, and my heart to both." Then, without passion, he laid out arguments that had been virulently rehashed for two days and invited the assembly to repudiate all local chauvinism by thinking of the unfortunate people who lacked bread.
The assembly ended in confusion, as most of the partisans of Soissons had left the premises before the vote that consecrated the triumph of Laon. Saint-Just was hardly affected by it. He confessed to Desmoulins: "It seems to me that it is only a point of honor between the two cities, and points of honor are very little thing in almost every regard." By the evening of May 20, Soissons had suffered a blow that weighed heavily on its future... But the detachment Saint-Just had displayed was interpreted as a sign of poise and mastery that placed him above partisan passions. He was congratulated from all sides: "I left loaded with compliments like the donkey with relics." He could tell Camille of his confidence in being elected "at the next legislature."
Before leaving the Saint-Martin church, he had the text of his speech inserted into the minutes. He had signed it Florelle de Saint-Just. This fanciful and unusual first name, used on this single occasion, was the first in a long series of false declarations meant to maintain doubt regarding his status as an elector: if the authorities, intrigued by Gellé's denunciation, had the idea of investigating the orator's age, it would be quite difficult to find a Saint-Just named "Florelle" in any parish register.
A week later, the electors of the Chauny district met to appoint their administrators. The choice of Saint-Just as the assembly's secretary bears witness to his adoption into the circle of notables: he had accomplished the most difficult part.
2. It's interesting to read his motivations (it sounds a bit too pompous, it doesn't accurately reflect the final text) and insistence on changing the title of his essay, as his choice clearly didn't prevail. The fact he focuses on "Droit public" gives a stronger basis to Quennedey's hypothesis that the true title of the manuscript known as "De la Nature" should be known as "Du Droit social".
3. Like Boussemart notes, he didn't check the date when writing the third letter, writing only "10 ou 11 mars 1791": "the young revolutionary didn't have the possibility or didn't have an interest in checking the date".
3. He reveals he feels unfit for any job which raises some questions about his work as a clerk in Soissons, like Quennedey observes:
"One cannot help but be surprised by Saint-Just’s admission, in one of his letters, that he was 'unfit for any position'. This statement casts doubt on whether his work as a clerk to a prosecutor in Soissons from 1787 to 1789 went smoothly."
(On ne manquera pas non plus de s’étonner de l’aveu que fait Saint-Just, dans l’une de ses lettres, « d’être inhabile à tout emploi ». Cette déclaration fait douter que le travail qu’il aurait effectué à Soissons en 1787-1789 comme clerc de procureur se soit bien passé.)
One could argue this admission also suggests a man whose intellectual ambitions had already made the clerk's desk feel like a cage. The bitterness and frustration he evokes weren't just about age; they were about a spirit that refused to be small and contained.
Conclusion
The discovery of these new letters after two centuries is a testament to the fact that the history of the Revolution is never truly "closed". There are still voices waiting to be heard in the uncatalogued boxes of our archives. For Saint-Just, these fragments restore a sense of intimacy that official records cannot provide. They remind us that behind every political decree was a human heart, often heavy with the bitterness of being misunderstood and the desperate hope of being seen.
Ultimately, these letters do more than just fill a biographical gap; they humanize a man who is too often flattened into a cold symbol. In the silence between his lines to Beuvin, we find the real Saint-Just: a young man of immense ambition struggling against the limitations of his age, his finances, and his isolation. Before he walked to a rostrum in Paris that would seal his image as the "Archangel of the Terror", he was this anxious, brilliant and deeply vulnerable soul, counting the days until he could finally begin to live.
Book Recommendations on the French Revolution (the "short" list version)
(For some reason, the original anonymous ask and answer I thought I had saved in my drafts has disappeared? Did I accidentally delete it? Who knows with Tumblr. Anyway, good thing I screenshotted it, I guess.)
Since I am STILL working on my extremely long post series going in depth into recommendations, I guess I should really just answer this ask and give a plain and simple list, as it was requested -_- (Don't worry, the extremely long post series is still going to happen.)
First of all, let’s just say, again (and it really must be insisted on), that most Anglophone historiography is… not very good. There are exceptions, but not many. At least, not enough to satisfy me. Fortunately, some good French books have been translated to English – so that’s great news!
So here are my main recommendations:
Sophie Wahnich’s La liberté ou la mort. Essai sur la Terreur et le terrorisme (2003) which was translated to In Defence of the Terror: Liberty Or Death in the French Revolution with a foreword by Slavoj Zizek in 2012.
This essay basically changed my life, and led me to take the path I have walked since as a historian. Zizek’s foreword is very good in summarizing the ideological oppositions to the French Revolution (until he rambles the way he usually does).
It opens with a quote from Résistant poet René Char which perfectly sets the tone:
“I want never to forget how I was forced to become – for how long? – a monster of justice and intolerance, a narrow-minded simplifier, an arctic character uninterested in anyone who was not in league with him to kill the dogs of hell.”
Keep in mind that when I first read it, in 2003, the very notion of anything like the Charlottesville rally happening was still in the realm of pure fantasy.
Marie-Hélène Huet’s Mourning Glory: The Will of the French Revolution (1997). One of the rare books in my list that was originally written in English (!). I think a lot of it might be available to read via Google Books, but it’s worth buying.
This book is hard to categorize: it talks of historiography and ideology, and it’s overall a fascinating book.
It feels a lot like Sophie Wahnich’s first essay – it was also similarly influential on my research. It inspired a lot of my M.A. thesis. I’ve recently found my book version of it, and this book was annotated like I’ve rarely annotated a book. It was quite impressive.
Dominique Godineau’s Citoyennes Tricoteuses: Les femmes du peuple à Paris pendant la Révolution française (1988) which was translated to The Women of Paris and Their French Revolution (1998).
It’s the best book on women’s history during the French Revolution IMO. I really don’t have much more to say about it: it’s excellent. It talks of working class women, it talks of the conflicts between different women groups, it talks of what happened after Thermidor and the Prairial insurrections, and the women who were arrested. No book has compared to it yet.
Jean-Pierre Gross’s Fair Shares for All: Jacobin Egalitarianism in Practice (1997). You can download it for free via The Charnel House (link opens as pdf).
Another rare book that was originally written in English, and later translated to French, though the author is French! (I think some French authors have picked up that the real battlefield is in Anglophonia…) It’s very important to understand social rights, a founding legacy of the French Revolution.
François Gendron’s essential book on the Thermidorian Reaction: first published in Québec as La jeunesse dorée. Episodes de la Révolution française (1979) (The Gilded Youth. Episodes of the French Revolution). It was then published in France as La jeunesse sous Thermidor (The Youth During Thermidor). As I explained here, its publication history is quite controversial (though it seems no one noticed?). It was thankfully translated to English as The Gilded Youth of Thermidor (1993). However, the English translation follows Pierre Chaunu’s version – which didn’t alter the content per se, but removed the footnotes and has a terribly reactionary foreword – so be careful with that. If anything, that’s a very good example of all the problems in historiography and translations.
Much like Godineau’s book on women, no book can compare. In the case of women’s history during the French Revolution, it’s because most of it is abysmally terrible; in the case of the Thermidorian reaction, it’s because no one talks about it. And it’s not surprising once you start reading about it.
(You might notice that Gendron’s translated book, much like many others, are prohibitively expensive. I do own some of these so if you ever want to read any, send me a message and we’ll work it out!)
Antoine de Baecque’s The Body Politic. Corporeal Metaphor in Revolutionary France, 1770-1800 (1997), which is a translation of Le Corps de l’histoire : Métaphores et politique (1770-1800) (1993). (Here’s the table of contents.) It’s a peculiar book belonging to a peculiar field, and it can be a bit complicated/advanced in the same way most of Sophie Wahnich’s books are, but I still recommend them. See also: La gloire et l’effroi, Sept morts sous la Terreur (1997) and Les éclats du rire : la culture des rieurs aux 18e siècle (2000), but I don’t think either have been translated. Le Corps de l’histoire and La gloire et l’effroi also are nice complements to Marie-Hélène Huet’s book.
If you can read French, I really recommend the five essays reunited in Pour quoi faire la Révolution ? (2012), especially Guillaume Mazeau’s on the Terror (La Terreur, laboratoire de la modernité) – which I might try to eventually translate or at least summarize in English coz it’s really worth it.
The following books are extremely important to understand the historiographical feud and the controversies that surrounded the Bicentennial of the French Revolution in 1989 (and both have been translated to French so that’s cool too):
First, Steven L. Kaplan’s two volumes called Farewell, Revolution: Disputed Legacies (1995) and The Historians’ Feud (1996).
Then, Eric Hobsbawm’s Echoes of the Marseillaise: Two Centuries Look Back on the French Revolution (1990) which gives you the Marxist perspective on the debate. If you want to look for the non-Marxist perspective: look at literally any other book written on the French Revolution and its historiography (I’m not kidding). For example, you can read the introduction by Gwynne Lewis (1999 book edition; 2012 online edition) to Alfred Cobban’s The Social Interpretation of the French Revolution (1964), the founding “revisionist” book.
Again, if you can read French, I recommend Michel Vovelle’s Combats pour la Révolution française (1993) and 1789: L’héritage et la mémoire (2007). I have not read La bataille du Bicentenaire de la Révolution française (2017) but it might recycle parts of the previous two books, so I’d look that up first.
Marxist historiography is near inexistant in Anglophonia, because of reasons best explained in this short historiographical recap on Anglophone historiography and specifically Alfred Cobban (link opens as pdf), but there was Eric Hobsbawm, who wrote a series of very important books on “The Ages of…”:
The Age of Revolution: 1789-1848
The Age of Capital: 1848-1875
The Age of Empire: 1875-1914
The Age of Extremes: 1914-1991
Some of Albert Soboul’s works have been translated as well:
A Short History of the French Revolution, 1789-1799 (1977)
The Sans-Culottes: The Popular Movement and Revolutionary Government, 1793-1794 (1981)
Understanding the French Revolution (1988), which is a collection of various essays translated to English (here’s the table of contents)
While we’re on the subject of classics: I do need to re-read R. R. Palmer’s The Twelve Who Ruled (1941) to see if I still like it, but I believe it’s still positively received? I’ve never actually read C. L. R. James’ The Black Jacobins. Toussaint Louverture and the San Domingo Revolution (1963) but I’m going to rectify that this summer.
That’s a good way to segue into a final part.
Here is a list of books I technically have not read yet (I skimmed through them), but would still recommend because I trust the authors:
Michel Biard and Marisa Linton’s The French Revolution and Its Demons (2021) which was originally published in French as Terreur ! La Révolution française face à ses demons (2020). It looks like an excellent summary of all the controversies surrounding the Terror: Robespierre’s black legend, how the Terror was “invented”, the conflicts between different political factions and clubs, the Vendée, and stats on who actually died by the guillotine (no, there was no “noble purge”). (Here’s the table of contents.)
Peter McPhee wrote several good syntheses, the most recent being Liberty or Death: The French Revolution (2017). Others he wrote: Living the French Revolution, 1789-99 (2006) and A Social History of France, 1789-1914 (1992, reedited in 2004). Why 1914? The 19th century was defined by Hobsbawm (see above) as “the long 19th century” (by contrast with “the short 20th century”), or “the cultural and political 19th century”, which is regarded as lasting from the fall of Napoléon Bonaparte to the First World war.
Eric Hazan’s A People’s History of the French Revolution (2014) and A History of the Barricade (2015), which are translations (Une histoire de la Révolution française, 2012, and La barricade: Histoire d’un objet révolutionnaire, 2013). If you can read French, check out his essay published by La Fabrique: La dynamique de la révolte. Sur des insurrections passes et d’autres à venir (2015).
Just as a final note: this post is the equivalent of four half single-spaced pages in Times New Roman 12 pts. It also took two hours to write and format (and make the side-posts with table of contents) even though most of it is already written in several drafts – i.e. the long post series of in-depth recommendations, so that gives you an idea of why that other series of posts is taking so long to write.
I’m going to go lie down now. -_-
ETA: Corrected some typos and a link that didn't quite go to the right place.
things i tried in order to learn french - from least to most unhinged
buying a self-study book- very normal, no notes
duolingo - you won't ever learn a language purely with duolingo. but it does have a section "talking about protests" which was enlightening
translating wikipedia articles - i translated the whole french revolution article on wikipedia before i actually properly learned the tenses
reading enjoltaire fanfiction in french. i learned how to describe sex. and some revolution-related vocab
attempting to read saint-just's squiggles of a handwriting. i have about a B1 of french overall. what am i doing??? and what was he doing, he was so literate he became illiterate (i shouldn't talk, my latin notes are awful)
listening to frev era music while exercising. ca ira is a great motivational song tbh. and it proposes a solution to a lot of world problems. something, something, the rich and lamp and a rope
Revolutionaries that encountered each other before the revolution compilation
Comment if there was anything that surprised you! 🙃🫢
Sources:
For the college relationships between Robespierre, Desmoulins, Suleau and Fréron, see this post.
For Robespierre welcoming Louise de Kéralio to the Academy of Arras, see Un inédit de Robespierre: Sa réponse au discours de réception de Mademoiselle de Kéralio 18 avril 1787 (1974) by Léon Berthe.
For the relationship between Robespierre and Carnot pre-revolution, see this post.
For the relationship between Robespierre and Fouché pre-revolution, see this post.
For the relationship between Robespierre and Guffroy pre-revolution, see Censure républicaine, ou, Lettre d’A-B-J Guffroy, répresentant du peuple (1794), page 66: ”Robespierre the elder must remember my firmness when, both working as judges in the episcopal hall of Arras, we condemned an assassin to death. He must remember, it seems to me, our philosophical and philanthropic debates, and even that it cost him much more than me to resolve to sign the sentence.”
For Fréron’s father Élie Fréron praising one of Collot d’Herbois’ plays, see this post.
For the relationship between Desmoulins and Charles Lambrechts, see a letter to the former from the latter dated September 12 1781, cited in Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2018) page 28-29: ”[Your successes make me encourage you] to make the final efforts to overcome the small natural defect of which you complain, and which must embarrass you much more in France than it would embarrass you in this country, where people hardly plead verbally, and where in all genres people look much more at the substance than at the form; I urge you, however, not to be discouraged on this side and I dare to predict that with constancy you will overcome all obstacles; you will imitate Demosthenes in this.”
For the relationship between Desmoulins and Lucile Duplessis’ mother, see this post.
For Lucile Desmoulins and Sylvain Maréchal’s relationship, see Lucile’s diary from 1788.
For Hérault de Séchelles and Michel Lepeletier being childhood friends, see the Convention session of December 29 1793 (Gazette nationale ou le Moniteur universel, number 100, page 404), during which Hérault is recorded to have said: ”I who, in the world, have never had more than one close friend since the age of six. Here he is! Michel Lepeletier, oh you from whom I have never parted, you whose virtue was my model, you who like me was the target of parliamentary hatred, happy martyr!”
For Billaud-Varennes serving as Danton’s secretary in 1787, see Billaud-Varenne, membre du Comité de salut public: mémoires inédits et correspondance (1893) page 21. See also Notes de Topino-Lebrun, juré au Tribunal révolutionnaire de Paris sur le procès de Danton et sur Fouquier-Tinville (1875) page 19, according to which Danton during his trial would have stated: ”Billaud-Varennes doesn’t forgive me for having been my secretary.”
For Brissot and Pétion being childhood friends, see Discours de Jérôme Pétion sur l’accusation intentée contre Maximilien Robespierre (1792) page 16: ”I’ve known [Brissot] since his childhood. I’ve seen him in these moments where the soul completely shows itself.”
For Barbaroux taking an optics course under Marat, see Mémoires inédits de Charles Barbaroux, député a la Convention nationale (1822), page 57.
For Brissot and Marat’s relationship pre-revolution, see Mémoires de Brissot, volume 1, page 346-361, as well as a letter from Brissot to Marat dated June 6 1782 and a letter from Marat to Brissot dated 1783.
For Brissot’s relationship with the Rolands pre-revolution, see a letter from Brissot to M. Roland dated June 24 1787, and an undated one from Brissot to Mme Roland, as well as Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 358.
For the relationship between Brissot, Clavière and Mirabeau, see Mémoires de Brissot, volume 2, page 23-24 and 28-33, as well as a letters from Mirabeau to Brissot dated 11 August 1783 and 15 July 1786and a letter from Brissot to Mirabeau dated July 1786.
For the relationship between Brissot and Lafayette, see a letter from Lafayette to Washington in favor of Brissot dated May 25 1788, and number 659 (May 29 1791) of Brissot’s journal Le Patriote Français: ”I saw Lafayette before the revolution.”
For the relationship between Madame de Genlis and Brissot, see Mémoires inédites de Madame la comptesse de Genlis, volume 4, page 106-110, as well as this letter dated June 1783 from Félicité Brissot to Félicité Genlis.
For Condorcet objecting to Brissot’s imprisonment in the Bastille in 1784, see Mémoires de Brissot, volume 1, page 348: ”I owed my freedom also to the warmth of a few precious friends who offered to vouch for me at the price of their own liberty; I also owed it to the almost universal outcry from men of letters, even those I scarcely knew at the time, who, convinced of the austerity of my principles and morals, denounced as slander the composition of the pamphlets attributed to me and loudly demanded the end of my captivity. Thus, not only did the friends I mentioned in these memoirs give me proof of their devotion, but I also received marks of interest from a host of other people who were then almost strangers to me, such as Condorcet, with whom I have since had so many honorable relations.”
For Brissot and Gabriel Vaugeois being college comrades, see Mémoires de Brissot, volume 1, page 34: ”I have yet not spoken of Vaugeois, he was one of my college comrades, who had de la solidité dans l’esprit and love for the sciences.”
For the relationship between Prieur de la Côte d’Or and Guyton-Morveau, see Prieur de la Côte d’Or(1946) by Georges Bouchard, page 54, 62.
For Laclos critizicing Carnot’s work Éloge à Vauban, see Lettre à MM. de l'Académie françoise, sur l'éloge de M. le maréchal de Vauban, proposé pour sujet du prix d'éloquence de l'année 1787
It’s a little creepy how the pretty privilege makes you a consumer product and not a serious political figure who deserves to be read as such.
Unsurprisingly, he himself criticized the commercial society (aka: early capitalism) for suppressing the individual's self-worth. He meant that the only thing that matters becomes consumption, without true freedom of expression.
Imagine criticizing a system that denatures humanity, dying, and becoming what you feared most.
For me, it's appalling that anyone can be reduced to that; humans are not products to be consumed. And much less dolls.
So I've been working on this for three hours now. Three hours with only one short pause coz I got a phone call. It has not been reread. I need and deserve a fucking break.
Feel free to add comments and corrections. I'm sure I messed up in many many many parts. This is a vulgarization for the uninitiated and I have to summarize and skip some stuff.
But damn I'm exhausted and I want to share this with you first before I add that to a post that already has 11k notes.
If you live anywhere in the Anglosphere, you might have learned about something that happened during the French Revolution as "the Reign of Terror".
95% of what you think you know about this is most likely false. The British propaganda built to distort and demonize the French Revolution was one of the most successful in history.
See, the British Empire and their successor the American Empire need you to believe that the French Revolution was a chaotic, repugnant bloodbath that accomplished nothing. It's actually explained in one chapter of the book by Domenico Losurdo I mentioned earlier:
Now let's go back a bit and talk about the Terror.
First things first, I know you all call it "the Reign of Terror" and I sound like I'm nagging when I say this but: stop calling it that. Terror doesn't reign. It doesn't make sense. The French don't call it that. It's exclusively an Anglophone term to make it sound more sinister.
What you've probably heard is this: there was some guy named Robespierre who went insane, made himself dictator, and killed everyone who disagreed with him via guillotine.
Well, none of that is true.
What we call the Terror (French: la Terreur) is an ill-defined period that's usually set to begin on 5 September 1793 and ends on 28 July 1794.
On 10 August 1792, the palace of the Tuileries was stormed and put an end to the regime of constitutional monarchy they had been trying to establish so far, bit failed for many reasons including the fact Louis XVI was never truly in favor of that, as he proved when he tried to run away from France to join the enemy they were at war with but was caught on 20 June 1791. The chief of State runninh away to join the enemy - lead by his brothers in exile, his wife's family and their many supporters - is obviously a very bad thing that broke everyone's trust in him. The fact he kept vetoing a series of measures in 1792 didn't help either. Nor the fact that on 25 July 1792, the Duke of Brunswick, commander of the Prussian and Austrian armies, issued a threatening "unforgettable vengeance" against all of Paris if harm or humiliation was to be done to the royal family. The Parisians, quite naturally, Did Not Like That. At all. So they did the very thing this douchebag was threatening them not to do: they stormed the palace where the royal family lived, taken prisoners, and led to the Assembly where the people demanded action. The monarchy was abolished. A new Assembly was convened, the National Convention, to create a constitution for the new regime, a Republic.
The first months of the National Convention were mostly busy trying to figure out what to do with the king. They put him on trial - arguably one of the first trial for crimes against humanity as the monarchy itself and the position of king was seen as such. He was found guilty and executed on 21 January 1793.
The next few months were busy working on the Constitution but also marked with severe conflicts within Paris and in all of France. War was still raging at the borders - France was being invaded by a coallition of all the monarchs of Europe who saw the new Republic as an obvious threat to their power. An assembly mostly made of commoners had executed a king who used to derive his power from divine right. The Kingdom of France was one of the most powerful defenders of Rome and Catholicism. The French Revolutionaries had declared an end to The World That Was And Seemed Would Be Forever. It was absolutely devastating to all of Europe and had an impact across the entire world. Saint-Domingue rose up in insurrection in 1791 and became the Republic of Haiti in 1804. The entirery of the status quo was thrown into chaos with both commoners and slaves rising up and demanding power. Capitalism, which was in its beginning stages, was also threatened. This is when conservatism was born as an ideology, and I love linking this video as it does a far better job at explaining it than me:
So to sum things up: most of the world wants to crush the French Republic. The armies of Europe are marching on them. And because things aren't hard enough, civil war breaks out from within with different factions with different goals. By the time they finally finished and proclaimed the Constitution of 1793 on 24 June 1793, one of the most progressive that existed at the time in the world with protections for socio-economical rights that would not be considered again until the 20th century, the state of France was on the brink of disaster. They had to proclaim a state of emergency - something that most liberal democracies accept (and often abuse) nowadays but bizarrely refuse to consider as "justified" for the First French Republic.
Because this state of emergency is what you've learned to call "the Reign of Terror".
What it actually was though was a series of laws and measures taken to fight the wars raging inside and at the border.
Power started to be focussed on an entity called the Committee of Public Safety (French: Comité de salut public, hereafter referred to as the CSP), which basically micromanaged all of France to fix all of the problems. The CSP was first controlled by a political group that came to be known as the Girondins. (France did not have political parties then as we do now.) The Girondins were in a lot of problems because they had defended the king and tried to save his life. They were also more liberal than the more radical Montagnards. Internal fighting ensued. The Montagnards eventually took over, strongly supported by the working class of Paris rallied in what was called the revolutionary sections and the Club des Jacobins, a political club of petit bourgeois and artisans. They were strongly committed to the progressive principles of the Constitution, which basically promised a sort of "Providential" or "Welfare State" that promised to keep the worst impulses of capitalism in check.
On 5 September 1793, the most radical groups of Paris stormed the Convention and demanded they take action: they wanted a revolutionary army, which they got, and that "the Terror be put on the order of the day", which is much more ambiguous. Some historians claim it was approved. Others actually bothered to look into the very detailed accounts of the Assemblies and found out it was... a bit more complicated than that. Long story short: the CSP agreed to take new measures to take care of various urgent problems, notably food scarcity but also the punishment of those seen as responsible for this situation. On October 10th 1793 the Constitution was suspended "until peace" and a revolutionary government was proclaimed instead. The CSP was a de facto executive - though if you want to go into strict terminology, they weren't really. They emanated from the Assembly, thus the legislative branch. The executive, which used to be the king and his ministers, was progressively emptied of its power and transferred to the CSP. The second most important committee at the time, the Committee of General Security (French: Comité de sûreté générale, hereafter referred to as CSG) was put in charge of overseeing the judicial process via the Revolutionary Tribunal.
On 5 September 1793 was also when two more radical deputies, Collot d'Herbois and Billaud-Varenne, were added to the CSP which remained mostly the same in composition until 28 July 1794, except from one member, Hérault-Séchelles, who resigned in December 1793 and was later arrested and executed in the Spring of 1794.
The members of the CSP who oversaw the period known as "the Terror" were: Bertrand Barère, Robert Lindet (both elected in April 1793), Georges Couthon (May), André Jeanbon Saint-André (June), Pierre-Louis Prieur, Louis-Antoine Saint-Just (both elected on July 10), Maximilien Robespierre (July 26), Claude-Antoine Prieur, Lazare Carnot (both added in August) and finally Collot d'Herbois and Billaud Varenne (September).
As you might have noticed, Robespierre is only one member among 12 then 11. No, he was not the leader. It was collegial. They didn't always agree. He didn't always get his way - and everyone but two who died with him and the one who resigned survived him. Hérault's execution wasn't because Robespierre had a personal vendetta against him either.
So, what happened, and how does this connect with the creation of the term "terrorist"?
Well, long story short, the CSP struggled with typical inter-leftist fighting. They also fought with the CSG. They were exhausted and worked at least 14 hours a day while being under the constant threat of assassination - and yes, there were attempted assassinations, it wasn't just paranoia. Things got Very Bad and distrust, more than terror, reigned among them. Envy too. Robespierre was never the leader of anything, but he had amassed a huge following and an impressive reputation since had started fighting for the most marginalized all the way in 1789 when he was in the minority position. He was huge. He was popular. To many ordinary people who didn't quite get all the intricacies of collegiality, he was the CSP. He became a symbol. He embodied the most progressive principles of the Revolution, including those he was actually lukewarm about. Collot and Billaud were more to the left than him. While they could sometimes rally Saint-Just to their side, it was much harder to get Robespierre's approval. Robespierre had never been a good team player. He was better at being the Lone Advocate who spoke against the oppressors. But now he was on the government. Ideological and personal conflicts soon ripped the CSP apart: on one side, there was Robespierre, who stopped attending the Committee entirely in the last month of his life. Saint-Just and Couthon were his allies and were left to deal with the others. Saint-André and one of the Prieurs had been dispatched to the West to oversee the war and the armies. Saint-Just was often dispatched to the East and the North. Couthon was disabled and suffered from pain in his legs which caused many absences. Soon from 12 to 11, the Committee was in the hands of only half of them: Barère, Lindet, Collot, Billaud, Carnot and the other Prieur. That Prieur and Lindet mostly did office work concerning the supplying of armies and civilians (food, gunpowder, weapons). Carnot oversaw the armies and though his work was supposed to be shared with Lindet, Prieur and also Saint-Just, he soon decided that should be his domain. Prieur agreed. Saint-Just did not. Lindet was too busy trying to feed all of France to get into the bickering. Barère was the designated spokesperson who gave reports almost daily to the Convention about their work but also news from the war and all the generals and representatives dispatched in war zones who they corresponded with. As such, he was the official organ of government propaganda. Robespierre didn't always agree with what he had to say. Saint-Just didn't approve of how he overdid his praise of military victories, as all of them lived in fear of a Caesar rising from the generals (and wouldn't you know that, it did happen eventually). Collot and Billaud were rightfully bitter that Robespierre was willing to concede and compromise with centrists.
It was a huge fucking mess.
And so the six conspired with most members of the CSG and other representatives to get rid of Robespierre and his allies Saint-Just and Couthon.
Because Robespierre had managed to piss off a whoooole lot of representatives during the last few months for a vast array of reasons, ranging from "petty and absurd" to "legitimately you might have a point", it actually wasn't that hard to turn the entire Convention against him. Propaganda had already been written against him by many of his political opponents through his career, from the Girondins to the Royalists including the British who had every reason in the world to take him down. (For one thing, he was a strong vocal opponent of slavery.) When he was executed on 28 July 1794, followed by a purge of hundreds of people who supported him who were either imprisoned or executed to, all they had to donwas pick up the preexisting narratives circulating against him to build him up ad The Most Evil Dictator of France. Why though? Well everyone had different ideas and the coallition formed against him, known as the Thermidorians, divided just as fast.
The Terror had not been going quite as well as planned. There had been war crimes. There had been sham trials. There had been bad laws that led to a spike in execution in June-July 1794. They needed a scapegoat, and Robespierre was perfect.
But it wasn't enough.
All those who had been suspect and imprisoned were suddenly released after Robespierre's execution. They wanted revenge. Among them you had average people who no doubt had every right to be upset, but also the worst of reactionary scumbags who did want to destroy the Revolution.
And that is when the term "terrorist" was invented.
First it meant the partisans of the Terror, the partisans of Robespierre. But as the reaction progressed, it came to mean the leftists. Collot and Billaud were arrested and deported to Guyana. Others too. The Girondins who had been under house arrest for a long time now rejoined the Convention. The right grew stronger. The Montagne was thinning in numbers and came to be mockingly called the Crest. Those still wanted all the social measures they had adopted during the Terror to continue - because even though the Constitution had been suspended, they still had adopted many of its progressive measures or were in the process to. But the working class supported the Terror. The petit-bourgeois of the Club des Jacobins too. Supporting the Terror meant supporting bloodshed and also the rule of the poor over the rich. The right didn't want the Constitution of 1793 anymore. The liberals who used to support it abandoned it, perceiving it as the root cause for all of this "anarchy". By Spring 1795, after a terrible winter of starvation that wasn't helped by the new losers in charge who decided to deregulate everything and give capitalism a chance, the working class of Paris did rise up. And for the first time since 1789, it was defeated by the bourgeois who no longer aligned with them. It was the end of the popular Revolution: on the 1st Prairial of Year III, 20 May 1795. From now on, the Bourgeois didn't need the People anymore. The Revolution had finally truly been seized by the bourgeoisie. No more compromises. No more leftist policies. or a very brief moment there had been hope for a better world, but it had coincided with bloodshed.
And that is why the political category of "terrorist" was created.
There are two things forever associated with Maximilien Robespierre. No, not the guillotine and the 'Reign of Terror' (get the hell out of here if those were your first thoughts).
Can someone please tell me where the information that Maximilien loved oranges comes from? Like, seriously, I have no idea and tumblr is full of it. Thanks!
The marvellous @bunniesandbeheadings answered an ask about this - in brief, our source is Fréron and there's reason to be suspicious of such a hostile source, though Charlotte Robespierre does say Maximilien liked fruit. I will link Bunnies' answer here, with thanks!
I asked about tarts earlier, but now - why do I keep seeing stuff about Robespierre and oranges?
He actually wanted to be Prince of Orange b
It is possible Robespierre was encouraged to eat fruit by his doctor, Souberbielle. We know that Robespierre's health wasn't good, he himself testified to that ('my health and my strength are not enough'), and Souberbielle tells us for example that he had a chronic leg ulcer - this could have indicated a vitamin deficiency such as scurvy, for which fresh produce in general had been known as an effective preventative and cure on and off throughout history, and citrus fruit in particular in Europe since the 1740s. Might Souberbielle have advised Robespierre to consume citrus fruits, when they were available to him? Maybe. But as @bunniesandbeheadings says above, the image of Robespierre sitting down to a pile of oranges, a luxury food, during periods when basic foodstuffs were in short supply is a powerfully negative one, and possibly just a touch of malice from Fréron.
There is one more thing I'd like to add. In the 1790s, we're still in an era when certain essential physical qualities are associated with masculinity and femininity (yes, the old humoural idea that men are properly predisposed to being hot and dry and women properly predisposed to being cold and moist), and as such, that certain foodstuffs were more aligned with and beneficial to the essential temperaments of men or women. Women were more encouraged to eat 'cooling' foods like fruit than men (red meat, red wine, 'heating' foods were generally considered more appropriate for men). I've speculated before on here as to whether the association of Robespierre with habitually eating fruit like oranges might have been another way to 'feminise' him, and that this is why it has persisted in FRev histories and media, especially in contrast to either a hyper-masculine image of Danton or to a dominating image of Saint-Just (hostile and knowingly or not homophobic 'readings' of the Saint-Just/Robespierre relationship tend to emphasise the domination of one over the other). It's just a little theory of mine, but it would fit in with the curious emphasis so many historians, novelists and directors have put on Robespierre as a dandy in his manner of dress and styling (when he was in fact by no means unusual - even portraits of the hyper-masculine Danton show him with powdered wig/hair).
