#jacques necker

[my-deer-friend]

Live footage of me explaining how one (1) source has blown my dissertation argument wide open and potentially made my paper both more interesting and more complicated with [checks notes] 33 days to go.

Jacques Necker giving me the academic equivalent of a manic episode is not something I had on my bingo card.

[kimtiny]

He's so silly

[nigrit]

'The War of the Districts, or the Flight of Marat…'

Part 1 (of 5)

Some years ago I photographed a fantastic, satirical poem from a compendium of French Revolutionary verse in the BnF (réserve). It’s been gathering virtual dust ever since. But no more! It’s a witty take on a key moment from early in the Revolution, when the Paris authorities pitted themselves against the radical Cordeliers district (under Danton’s leadership). With help from @anotherhumaninthisworld (merci encore!), we managed to produce a rough translation, which I revised, added some footnotes (to clarify the more obscure references) and added this brief intro to put it in context. While the translation is a literal one, I’ve tried to preserve some of the rhyming spirit of the original where possible. So boil the kettle, get a brew on and settle down to an epic account of Maranton vs Neckerette…

In the early hours of 22 January 1790, General Lafayette, commander of the National Guard, authorized a large military force to arrest the radical journalist Jean-Paul Marat, following a request from Sylvain Bailly, the Mayor of Paris, to provide the Chatelet with sufficient armed force [“main-forte’] to enable its bailiff to enforce the warrant.[1] Bailly’s request was in response to the outrage caused by the publication, four days earlier, of Marat’s 78-page Denunciation of the finance minister, Jacques Necker.[2] Marat had moved into the district the Cordeliers district in December to seek its declared protection against arbitrary prosecution.

His best-selling pamphlet denounced Necker – probably the most popular man in France after the King in July 1789 – of covertly supporting the Ancien Régime and working to undermine the Revolution. His accusations included plotting to dissolve the National Assembly and remove the royal family to Metz on 5 October, colluding in grain hoarding and speculation, and generally compromising the King’s honour. The charges were intended to reveal a cumulative (and damning) pattern of behaviour since Necker’s reappointment in July 1788, and again in July 1789. Bearing his Rousseau-derived epigraph, Vitam impendere vero (‘To devote one’s life to the truth’) – now used as a kind of personal branding, Marat adopted the role of “avocat” to ‘try’ Necker before the court of public opinion.[3] Its general tone came in the context of a wider distrust of international capitalism, with which Necker was closely associated, and which appearted to violate many traditional values.[4] For those interested in the nitty gritty, here’s a footnote explaining why Marat had completely lost faith in Necker.[5]

It caused such a sensation that the first print-run sold out in 24 hours. Most of the radical press hailed Marat’s audacity in challenging Necker’s ‘virtuous’ reputation, while providing invaluable publicity for his pamphlet. The legal pursuit of Marat was largely prompted by the rigid adherence of the Chatelet to Ancien Régime values against the offence of libel (attacking a person in print).[6] I suspect that Marat was hoping a high-profile campaign against Necker would help to establish his name in the public eye by provoking a strong response. However, this was one of the rare occasions when Necker delegated his defence to ‘hired’ pens, providing Marat with valuable extra publicity.

If libel was the main reason for going after Marat, the impetus for pursuit was further motivated by wider political concerns over the extreme volatility that had gripped Paris since mid-December. After pre-emptive popular action in July and October against perceived counter-revolutionary plotting, a new wave of similar rumours was seen by many as a signal that the thermometer was about to explode again. The arrest of the marquis de Favras on Christmas Eve, for allegedly conspiring to raise a force to whisk the King away to safety, assassinate revolutionary leaders, and put his master, Monsieur (the King’s middle brother) on the throne as regent, only served to intensify popular fears. This, combined with the continuing failure to prosecute any royal officers, including the baron de Besenval, commander of the King’s troops around Paris during 12-14 July – who would be acquitted on 29 January for ‘counter-revolutionary’ actions – led to large crowds milling daily outside the Palais de Justice, as the legal action against both men dragged on through January.[7] On the 7th January, a bread riot in Versailles led to the declaration of martial law; on the 10th, a large march on the Hotel de Ville had been stopped in its tracks by Lafayette; on the 11th, there was an unruly 10,000-strong demonstration, screaming death-threats against defendants and judges, in the worst disturbances to public order since the October Days march on Versailles (and the most severe for another year); and on the 13th, tensions were further exacerbated by a threatened mutiny amongst disgruntled National Guards, which was efficiently snuffed out by Lafayette.[8] As a result, Marat’s Denunciation, and earlier attacks on Boucher d’Argis, the trial’s presiding judge, were seen as encouraging a dangerous distrust towards the authorities. Hence the pressing need to set an example of him.

So much for the background. Do we know anything about the poem’s authorship? it appeared around the same time (July/August) as Louis de Champcenetz & Antoine Rivarol’s sarcastic Petit dictionnaire des grands hommes de la Révolution, par un citoyen actif, ci-devant Rien(July/Aug 1790), which featured a brief entry on how Marat had eluded the attention of 5000 National Guardsmen and hid in southern France, disguised as a deserter. These figures would become the subject of wildly varying estimates, depending on who was reporting the ‘Affair’ – all, technically, primary sources! The higher the number of soldiers, the greater the degree of ridicule.[9] Contemporary accounts ranged from 400 to 12,000, although the latter exaggerated figure, included the extensive reserves positioned outside the district.[10] Since the poem also suggests around 5000 men, this similarity of numbers, alongside other literary and satirical clues, such as both men’s involvement in the Actes des apôtres, and the Petit dictionnaire’s targeting of Mme de Stael, suggest a possible common authorship.[11] While the poem took delight in mocking the ineptitude of the Paris Commune, the lattertook aim at the pretensions of the new class of revolutionary. While it is impossible to estimate the public reception of this poem, its cheap cover price of 15 sols suggests it was aimed at a wide audience. It was also republished under at least two different titles, sometimes alongside other counter-revolutionary pamphlets.[12]

Both act as important markers of Marat’s growing celebrity, just six months after the storming of the Bastille. A celebrity that reached far beyond the confines of his district (now section) and readership (which peaked at around 3000).[13] Marat was no longer being spoken of as just a malignant slanderer [“calomniateur”] but as the embodiment of a certain revolutionary stereotype. While he lacked the dedicated ‘fan base’ of a true celebrity, such as a Rousseau, a Voltaire or (even) a Necker, he did not lack for public curiosity, which was satisfied in his absence by a mediatized presence in pamphlets, poems, and the new lexicology.[14] For example, Marat would earn nine, separate entries in Pierre-Nicolas Chantreau’s Dictionnaire national et anecdotique (Aug 1790), the first in a series of dictionaries to capitalize on the Revolution’s fluid redefinition of language.

There seems little doubt that Marat’s Denunciation was intended to provoke the authorities into a strong reaction, and create “quelque sensation”, of which this mock-heroic poem forms one small part.[15] It would prove a pivotal moment in his revolutionary career, transforming him from the failed savant of 1789 to a vigorous symbol of press freedom and independence in 1790. Who knows what might have happened, if, as one royalist later remarked, the authorities had simply ignored this scribbling “dwarf”, whose only weapon was his pen.[16]

I'll post the 3 parts of the poem under #la fuite de Marat. enjoy!

[1] The Chatelet represented legal authority within Paris.

[2] Dénonciation faite au tribunal public par M. Marat, l’Ami du Peuple, contre M. Necker, premier ministre des finances (18 Jan 1790).

[3] The slogan was borrowed from Rousseau’s Lettre à d’Alembert, itself a misquote from Juvenal’s Satires (Vitam inpendere vero = ‘To sacrifice one’s life for the truth’).

[4] See Steven Kaplan’s excellent analysis of the mechanisms of famine plots and popular beliefs in the collusion between state and grain merchants. In part, this reflected a lack of transparency and poor PR in the state’s dealings with the public. During 1789-1790, when anxieties over grain supply were the main cause of rumours and popular tension, Necker made little effort to explain government policies. The Famine Plot Persuasion in Eighteenth-Century France (1982).

[5] As a rule, the King, and his ministers, did not consider the workings of government to be anyone’s business, and was not accountable to the public. However, in 1781, Necker undermined this precedent by publishing his Compte-rendu – a transparent snapshot of the royal finances – yet on his return in 1788, he failed to promote equivalent transparency over grain provision. In consequence, local administrators suffered from a lack of reliable information. Given the underlying food insecurity that followed the poor harvest of 1788, any rumours only unsettled the public. The most dramatic example of this came in the summer of 1789, when rumours of large-scale movements of brigands & beggars created the violent, rural panic known as ‘The Great Fear’. It was Necker’s continuing silence on these matters that lost Marat’s trust.

[6] Necker had a history of published interventions defending himself before the tribunal of public opinion, confessing that a thirst for gloire (renown) had motivated his continual courting of PO, then dismissing it as a fickle creature after it turned against him in 1790. eg Sur l’Administration de M. Necker (1791). For the best demonstration of continuity with Ancien Régime values after 1789, see Charles Walton, Policing Public Opinion in the French Revolution (2009).

[7] The erosion of Necker’s popularity began on 30 July after he asked the Commune to grant amnesty to all political prisoners, including Besenval.

[8] While the evidence was slight, Favras’ sentence to be hanged on 18 February made him a convenient scapegoat, allowing Besenval and Monsieur to escape further action. See Barry M. Shapiro, Revolutionary Justice in Paris, 1789-1790 (1993).

[9] The most likely figure appears 300-500. See Eugène Babut, ‘Une journée au district des Cordeliers etc’, in Revue historique (1903), p.287 (fn); Olivier Coquard, Marat (1996), pp.251-55; and Jacques de Cock & Charlotte Goetz, eds., Oeuvres Politiques de Marat (1995), i:130*-197*.

[10] For example, figures cited, included 400 in the Révolutions de Paris (16-23 Jan); 600 (with canon) in Mercure de France (30 Jan), repeated in a letter by Thomas Lindet (22 Jan); 2000 in a fake Ami du peuple (28 March); 3000 in Grande motion etc. (March); 4000 in Révolutions de France; 6000 (with canon) in Montjoie’s Histoire de la conjuration etc. (1796), pp.157-58; 10,000 in Parisian clair-voyant; 12,000 in Marat’s Appel à la Nation (Feb), repeated in AdP (23 July), reduced to 4000 in AdP (9 Feb 1791), but restored to 12,000 inPubliciste de la République française (24 April 1793).

[11] “Five to six large battalions/Followed by two squadrons” = approximately 5000 men (4800 + 300). A royalist journal edited and published by Jean-Gabriel Peltier, who also appears the most likely publisher of this poem.

[12] For example, Crimes envers le Roi, et envers la nation. Ou Confession patriotique (n.d., n.p,) & Le Triumvirat, ou messieurs Necker, Bailly et Lafayette, poème comique en trois chants (n.d., n.p.). Note the unusual use of ‘triumvirate’ at a time when this generally applied to the trio of Antoine Barnave, Alexandre Lameth and Adrien Duport.

[13] By the time the poem appeared, the Cordeliers district had been renamed section Théåtre-français, following the administrative redivision of Paris from 60 districts to 48 sections on 21 May 1790.

[14] For the growth of mediatized celebrity, see Antoine Lilti, Figures publiques (2014).

[15] As Marat explained in a footnote (‘Profession de foi’) at the end of his Denunciation, “Comme ma plume a fait quelque sensation, les ennemis publics qui sont les miens ont répandu dans le monde qu’elle était vendue…”

[16] Felix Galart de Montjoie, Histoire de la conjuration de Louis-Philippe-Joseph d’Orléans (1796), pp.157-58.

[angelosand]

11 luglio 1789: Luigi XVI 👑 caccia Jacques Necker, il ministro che il popolo vedeva come un alleato contro la crisi economica. La rabbia aumenta negli animi dei Parigini, la Rivoluzione è alle porte 🇫🇷

Nel dipinto 🖼️, Necker, di Joseph Duplessis, 1781

[aoitakumi8148]

“I will sleep now. Sleep at last, and not to dream.”

[kung-laos-hat]

On the afternoon of July 12, 1789, an excited but uncertain crowd of Parisians assembled in the Palais Royale. Hardly a person present knew why they were there. Each was drawn by the compulsion that often moves the individual when he sees a crowd gathering and succumbs to the curiosity that works upon city dwellers when a procession marches by. There was no procession on this occasion, simply a milling crowd of artisans, shopkeepers and shabby professional men, all apparently with nothing to do but discuss the recent decision of the States General to resolve itself into a permanent body that could not be dismissed by the King.

Outwardly there was nothing at all about this assembly to distinguish it from any other street demonstration. There were no advertised tub-thumpers and no banners, no emblems in hats or lapels, no real disorder calling for the appearance of police officers or troops of the Paris garrison. Suddenly, however, the mood of the gathering changed. Three young men, linked arm-by-arm, walked through the crowd shouting "To arms!" and almost at once another young man in threadbare clothes leaped onto a table and began to harangue the crowd. Within minutes the Palais Royale was seething with insurrection. The French Revolution, now generally recognized as by far the most important event of the eighteenth century, had begun.

(Napoleon's Marshals, R. F. Delderfield)

My Thoughts:

Crowds had assembled for good reason -- because the news of Necker's dismissal had reached Paris that afternoon, & Royal troops had been brought in from the frontier (this is minimal context, I know). I don't think that Camille Desmoulins' address to the crowd was the beginning of the French Revolution - but it certainly played a very important role.

"Citizens, there is no time to lose; the dismissal of Necker is the knell of a Saint Bartholomew for patriots! This very night all the Swiss and German battalions will leave the Champ de Mars to massacre us all; one resource is left; to take arms!" (tr. from History of the French Revolution from 1789 to 1814, François-Auguste Mignet)

[robespapier]

My friend: Oh, there's a place I want to show you! Meet me there, it's on Necker Street.

Me: Il a de bonnes intentions, mais il est banquier...et suisse/ Necker is well- intended, but he's a banker...and swiss.

My friend: ....

Me:

Rue Necker in Geneva/ Andrzej Seweryn as Robespierre in La Révolution française (1989): go to 18.25 for the Necker line.

[marq-de-laf]

On July 15th, he {King Louis XVI} went to the Assembly to tell them that the troops would be withdrawn and the deputies applauded him. And on July 16th, he recalled Necker and the other ministers whom he had dismissed five days earlier. The following day, Louis went to Paris where he called on Bailly and Lafayette in their new functions at the Hôtel de Ville. On the way there, the crowd treated him relatively coldly. But when he emerged from the Hôtel de Ville wearing a rosette in the conspicuous colors of the capitol--red and blue--there was some polite applause. It was as if the king were ostentatiously endorsing the principle of a more democratic form of local government in Paris.

The French Revolution: From Enlightenment to Tyranny by Ian Davidson, Chapter 4. King Louis’ apathy and back-and-forth decision making didn’t do him any favors during the Revolution.