"He was one of the most zealous humanitarians of the eighteenth century."
Brissot de Warville, Eloise Ellery, 1915, p. 182
My emotional support problematic fave 😭😭😭
It's bad. Brissot has moved into my head like he's trying to speculate on the territory. I'm just over 200 pages into the biography (~halfway) & I have so much to say, but I'm also anticipating all my feelings being proven wrong at some point or just having to complete another Brissot is Complicated thesis when this is all over. None of my opinions on the Girondins in general, the war-mongering, the blaming the Montagnards for violence/extremism etc. have changed, and I'm interested to read past 1791 to see if anything can shift my perspectives. It's been shocking (even though I knew this abstractly) to see how close — identical basically — Brissot is to the "radical" figures. On topics like active vs. passive citizens, the king's veto, republic vs. monarchy, the colonies, etc. he has taken the same positions as Robespierre. Camille & Brissot have squabbled a bit in the press, but minorly & the author points out some places where Brissot's actual positions don't quite match up with what Camille claims (e.g. being inconsistent about a republic) (Camille v. Brissot pre-1791 probable needs its own post.) He consistently opposes more conservative revolutionaries like Mirabeau and Barnave.
Because I've gotten into a habit of of making stupid shit lol, I made a table of if I had to vote for Brissot vs. the first few revolutionaries I could think of
& honestly, this doesn't even clear things up for me. Technically, Saint-Just should probably be green, but Brissot's humanitarian efforts are really, really hard to beat. Pétion & Marat, I admit, I probably just don't know enough about. Time is also a factor. 1792-3 Saint-Just vs. 1792-3 Brissot would definitely go to Saint-Just. (I think.) But what about 1789-90 Brissot vs. 1792-4 Saint-Just? And would I really choose Robespierre over Brissot in 1789-1791? I know my knowledge of later years is coloring my opinion. But this is also a bullshit mashup election that's taking place between my head and my heart, so none of it makes sense.
Anyway, I don't have a conclusion. This guy has taken over my head so much that it's obstructing my work. Not sure if it helped to write it out or if I'm just spreading the confusion lol
Jerôme Pétion's Marvellous Varennes Adventure English Translation
Hello, Frevvers! Here is a full translation of Pétion's hilariously un-self-aware account of his road trip back from Varennes with Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette's family, during which he somehow convinced himself Louis' sister Élisabeth was totally into him, then immediately panicked about it being a deliberate plot hatched by Marie to seduce him, before reasoning that he totally had the charm to entice Élisabeth naturally. It's so delusionally funny that I HAD to translate it to share, because it truly needs to be read in full to be believed. Native French speakers, please let me know if there are any mistakes!
Shoutouts to @anotherhumaninthisworld, from whom I found the account!
PÉTION'S JOURNEY ON THE RETURN FROM VARENNES.
- I was nominated by Maubourg and Barnave to go to meet the King and the persons accompanying him.
- This nomination had been made upon the proposal of the combined constitutional and military committees.
- I at first paid no attention to the manner in which this embassy was composed; for a long time, I had had no connection with Barnave; I had never associated with Maubourg.
- Maubourg knew Madame de Tourzel very well, and one cannot pretend otherwise that Barnave had already formed certain plans. They believed it very politic to place themselves under the shelter of a man known to be the enemy of all intrigue and the friend of good morals and virtue.
- Two hours after my nomination, I went to M. Maubourg's, the meeting place.
- I had barely entered when Duport arrived, when Lafayette arrived. I was more than a little surprised to see Duport and Lafayette talking together familiarly, amicably. I’d known they detested each other, and their coalition was not yet public. A man I had always esteemed also arrived, M. Tracy.
- There was much discussion about what course to take regarding the King. Everyone said "that fat pig is very troublesome." “Shall we lock him up?” said one. “Will he reign?” said another. “Shall we give him a council?”
- Lafayette made jokes, snickered. Duport did not explain himself. Beneath a sort of nonchalant air, I clearly perceived a great deal of constraint. I did not let myself be drawn in by people who were visibly playing their cards close to their chests and who had doubtless already settled on a plan of action.
- Barnave kept us waiting a very long time. We did not leave until four in the morning.
- We experienced a small delay at the city gate because they were letting no one through, and I could already picture the moment we would be forced to turn back.
- As I was exhausted with fatigue and panting with thirst, I asked Madame Élisabeth to kindly have some refreshments brought to me, which was done instantly. We only had time to drink two or three glasses of beer. We then went to the bodyguards, whom we placed under arrest. We gave order to M. de Lafayette to have Madame de Tourzel kept under close watch; we entrusted to his guard the person of the King. He told us he could answer for nothing if he could not put sentinels even in his bedroom. He made us feel the necessity for the Assembly to explain itself clearly, positively, on this subject. We left him, telling him that was just, and we went immediately to the Assembly to give them a succinct account of our mission.
- M. Dumas was with us; we’d picked him up at his house.
- The Assembly, also upon the proposal of the committees, had entrusted him with the general command of all the forces we would judge useful and necessary to requisition.
- This nomination was not at all indifferent. M. Dumas was the creature of Lameth.
- So here we were, departing in very fine weather. The postilions, who knew the objective of our journey, drove us with the greatest speed.
- In the villages, in the towns, in the cities, everywhere on our passage, we were given tokens of joy, friendship, and respect.
- Along the entire way, we stopped only the time necessary to quickly eat a bite. At Ferté-sous-Jouarre, a procession slowed our march for a bit. We dismounted, we went to an inn to have breakfast. The municipal officers came to join us there. A great number of citizens surrounded us. We did not spend the night.
- After arriving at Dormans, where we were about to dine, couriers came to tell us that the King had left Châlons that morning and must by then have been near Épernay. Others insisted that he had been followed on his march by Bouillé's troops and that he was going to be spirited away at any moment. Several, to back this up, maintained they had seen cavalry crossing through the woods.
- Nothing seemed more natural to us than this new attempt by M. de Bouillé, given his known character. "He will want," we said, "to perish rather than abandon him."
- However, the King was advancing inland; he had already left Châlons behind, and it seemed difficult to attempt a swift, surprise attack and especially to succeed. So, weighing all the circumstances, we were more inclined to believe that M. de Bouillé would not risk such a hussar's trick [i.e., a daring raid], which could moreover jeopardize the King's own person.
- We only took the time to eat a bite standing up, to have a drink, and we set off again.
- My traveling companions had used much discretion and reserve with me throughout the journey; we had spoken of neutral things. There had been only one moment that had awakened some suspicions in me. The question of what to do with the King had been brought up again. Maubourg had said: “It is very difficult to decide; he is a beast who let himself be led astray. He is very unfortunate. Truly, he is pitiable.” Barnave observed that indeed one could regard him as an imbecile. “What do you think, Pétion?” he said to me. And at the same moment, he made a sign to Maubourg, but one of those signs meaningful for the one who receives it, and betraying distrust for the one it is meant to be hidden from. However, it was possible that, knowing the austerity and inflexibility of my principles, he meant nothing else but: Pétion is going to condemn him with all the rigor of the law and as if he were a simple citizen.
- I replied nevertheless that I did not stray from the idea of treating him as an imbecile, incapable of occupying the throne, who needed a guardian, that this guardian could be a national council. Whereupon there were objections, answers, rejoinders; we spoke of the regency, of the difficulty of choosing a regent.
- M. Dumas was not in the same carriage as us. Leaving Dormans, M. Dumas was examining every place like an army general. "If M. de Bouillé arrives," he said, "he can only come from there; he can be stopped at this height and this defile; his cavalry would no longer be able to maneuver." He even made a military disposition; he ordered the National Guard of a town to take such and such a post.
- These precautions seemed not only useless, but ridiculous. We made fun of them, and I must say that M. Dumas himself was amused by them. He nonetheless appeared serious with the country inhabitants, who seriously expected to fight.
- The zeal that animated these good people was truly admirable. They came running from all directions, old men, women, and children. Some with spits, with scythes, others with sticks, sabers, poor muskets; they went as if to a wedding feast. Husbands embraced their wives, saying to them: "Very well, if necessary, we will go to the frontier to kill that scoundrel, that S.O.B. Ah! We will get him, they try in vain." They ran as fast as the carriage, they applauded, they cried: "Long live the Nation!" I was amazed, moved by this sublime spectacle.
- The couriers multiplied, pressed around us, telling us: "The King is approaching." About a league, a league and a half from Épernay, on a very fine road, we saw a cloud of dust in the distance, we heard a great noise. Several people approached our carriage and cried to us: “There is the King!” We made the horses slow their pace, we advanced, we perceived an immense crowd; we dismounted. The King's carriage stopped; we went forward; the usher preceded us and the ceremonial was observed with imposing formality. As soon as we were spotted, people exclaimed: “There are the deputies of the National Assembly!” They hastened to make room for us everywhere; signals for order and silence were given. The cortege was superb; National Guards on horseback, on foot, in uniform, without uniform, arms of every kind; the setting sun reflected its light upon this fine assemblage in the midst of the peaceful countryside. The grandeur of the occasion, I know not, gave rise to thoughts beyond calculation; but how varied and exaggerated the emotions were! I cannot depict the profound respect with which we were surrounded What powerful ascendancy, I said to myself, this Assembly has! What momentum it has imparted! What might it not achieve! How guilty it would be not to answer this boundless confidence, this so touching devotion!
- Amidst the horses, the clatter of arms, and the applause of a crowd whose eagerness drew them forward only to be checked by the fear of pressing too close upon us, we reached the carriage door. It opened at once. Confused noises came from within. The Queen and Madame Élisabeth appeared vividly agitated, in tears. “Gentlemen,” they said with haste and emotion, tears in their eyes. “Gentlemen! Ah! Monsieur Maubourg!” taking his hand, "for mercy’s sake! Ah! Monsieur,” taking Barnave’s hand as well, "Ah! Monsieur,” Madame Élisabeth merely rested her hand on mine, “may no misfortune occur, may those who accompanied us not be made victims, may no attempt be made on their lives! The King did not wish to leave France!” “No, gentlemen," said the King, speaking with great volubility, "I was not leaving, I declared it, it is true." This scene was intense, lasting but a minute; yet how it struck me! Maubourg responded. I responded with Ahs!, with insignificant words and a few gestures of dignity without harshness, of gentleness without affectation. Then, cutting short this exchange and assuming the official character of our mission, I announced it to the King in a few words and read him the decree of which I was the bearer. The deepest silence reigned in that instant.
- Moving to the other side of the carriage, I called for silence, obtained it, and read the decree aloud to the citizens. It was applauded. M. Dumas instantly assumed command of all the guards who, until that moment, had accompanied the King. There was, on the part of these guards, an admirable submission. They recognized with joy the military chief who placed himself at their head; the Assembly had designated him; it was as if he were a sacred authority to them.
- We informed the King that it was proper for us to take a place in his carriage. Barnave and I entered. Barely had we set foot inside when we said to the King: “But, Sire, we are going to impose on you, to inconvenience you; it is impossible that we should find room here.” The King replied: “I desire only that none of the persons who accompanied me should leave; I beg you to be seated, we will squeeze together, you will find room.”
- The King, the Queen, the Royal Prince were in the back. Madame Élisabeth, Madame de Tourzel, and Madame [Royale, Louis and Marie’s daughter] were in the front. The Queen took the prince on her knees, Barnave placed himself between the King and the Queen. Madame de Tourzel put Madame [Royale] between her legs, and I placed myself between Madame Élisabeth and Madame de Tourzel.
- We had not gone ten paces when they renewed their protests that the King did not intend to leave the kingdom, and expressed the most acute anxieties about the fate of the three bodyguards [gardes du corps] who were on the coachman’s seat. Words tumbled over one another, clashing; everyone was saying the same thing; it seemed a kind of watchword; but there was no moderation, no dignity in this conversation, and I perceived above all on none of their faces that often very imposing grandeur which misfortune confers upon noble souls.
- Past the first flurry of talk, I perceived an air of simplicity and family which pleased me; there was no longer any royal performance, but rather a domestic ease and good nature. The Queen called Madame Élisabeth "my little sister," Madame Élisabeth replied in kind. Madame Élisabeth called the King "my brother." The Queen bounced the young prince on her knees. Madame [Royale], though more reserved, played with her brother. The King watched it all with a rather satisfied air, though little moved and scarcely sensitive.
- Raising my eyes to the carriage ceiling, I spotted a gold-braided hat in the [storage] net. It was, no doubt, the one the King had worn as part of his disguise, and I confess I was appalled that this trace had been allowed to remain, a reminder of an act whose slightest memory they should have been eager and zealous to erase. Involuntarily, I cast glances from time to time at the hat. I do not know if this was noticed.
- I also examined the travelers' costumes. It was impossible for them to be more shabby. The King had a brown plush coat, very dirty linen. The women had little very common morning dresses.
- The King spoke of a recent incident in which a lord had just been slaughtered, and he appeared deeply affected by it. The Queen kept saying that it was abominable; that he had done a lot of good in his parish, and that it was his own villagers who had murdered him.
- Another incident had affected her deeply: she complained bitterly of the suspicions that had been shown toward her along the road. “Could you believe it?” she told us. “I went to offer a piece of poultry to a National Guardsman who seemed to follow us with some devotion. Well, then someone shouts to the National Guardsman: ‘Don’t eat, beware!’ implying that this chicken could be poisoned. Oh! I confess I was indignant at this suspicion, and instantly I distributed some of that chicken to my children, and I ate some myself.”
- No sooner had the story finished: “Gentlemen,” she told us, “we attended mass this morning at Châlons, but a constitutional mass.” Madame Élisabeth seconded this, the King did not say a word. I could not help answering that this was good, that these masses were the only ones the King should attend; but I confess I was very displeased with this kind of mocking pretense, especially given the circumstances in which the King found himself.
- The Queen and Madame Élisabeth kept returning incessantly to the bodyguards who were on the coachman’s seat, and expressed the most intense anxieties.
- “As for me,” said Madame de Tourzel, who had remained silent until then, in a resolute and very dry tone, "I did my duty by accompanying the King and not leaving the children who were entrusted to me. They will do with me what they wish, but I reproach myself for nothing. If it were to do over, I would do it again."
- The King spoke very little, and the conversation grew more intimate. The Queen spoke with Barnave, and Madame Élisabeth spoke with me, as if roles had been assigned by saying: “You take charge of your neighbor, I shall take charge of mine.”
- Madame Élisabeth gazed at me with tender eyes, with that air of languor which misfortune bestows and which inspires a rather keen interest. Our eyes met at times with a kind of understanding and attraction. Night was falling, the moon began to spread its soft light. Madame Élisabeth took Madame [Royale] on her knee, half on mine. [The child]’s head was supported by my hand, then by hers. Madame [Royale] fell asleep. I extended my arm, Madame Élisabeth extended hers over mine. Our arms were entwined, mine touched beneath her armpit. I felt quickened movements, a heat that went through the clothing. Madame Élisabeth's glances seemed to me more affecting. I perceived a certain abandon in her bearing, her eyes were moist, melancholy mingled with a kind of voluptuousness. I may be mistaken, one can easily confuse the sensibility of misfortune with the sensibility of pleasure, but I think that if we had been alone, if, as if by enchantment, everyone had vanished, she would have let herself go into my arms and would have abandoned herself to the impulses of nature.
- I was so struck by this state of affairs that I said to myself: What! Could this be an artifice to purchase me at such a price? Could Madame Élisabeth have agreed to sacrifice her honor to make me lose mine? Yes, at court nothing is too costly, they are capable of anything; the Queen could have devised the plan. And then, considering this air of naturalness, with my vanity also whispering that I might please her, that she was at that age where passions made themselves felt, I persuaded myself, and I found pleasure in it, that vivid emotions tormented her, and that she herself desired that we be without witnesses, that I should make those tender entreaties, those delicate caresses which conquer modesty without offending it, and which bring about surrender without alarming her scruples, where confusion and nature were the sole accomplices.
- We proceeded slowly; a numerous people accompanied us, Madame Élisabeth talked to me about the bodyguards who had accompanied them; she spoke of them to me with tender interest; her voice had an indefinably flattering quality. She would sometimes break off her words in a way that unsettled me. I answered her with equal gentleness, but nevertheless without weakness, with a kind of austerity that had nothing fierce about it. I took good care not to compromise my character; I gave all that was appropriate to the situation in which I believed I saw her, but without however giving enough that she could think, or even suspect, that anything would ever alter my opinion. And I think she felt it perfectly, that she saw that the most seductive temptations would be useless, for I noticed a certain cooling, a certain severity which in women often stems from wounded vanity.
- We arrived imperceptibly at Dormans. I observed Barnave several times, and although the half-light that reigned did not allow me to distinguish with great precision, his bearing with the Queen seemed to me honest, reserved; and the conversation did not seem secretive to me.
- We entered Dormans between midnight and one o'clock. We went down to the inn where we had eaten a bite, and this inn, although very clean for a small place, was hardly fit to receive the royal family.
- I confess, however, that I was not displeased that the court should know what an ordinary inn was.
- The King got out of the carriage and we got out successively. There were no cries of: Long live the King!, and they were still crying: Long live the nation! Long live the National Assembly! Sometimes: Long live Barnave! Long live Pétion! This happened all along the route.
- We went up to the high rooms; sentinels were placed instantly at all the doors. The King, the Queen, Madame Élisabeth, the Prince, Madame [Royale], Madame de Tourzel supped together. MM. Maubourg, Barnave, Dumas and I, we supped in another apartment; we did our dispatches for the National Assembly. I got into bed at three in the morning. Barnave came to sleep in the same bed. I was already asleep. We got up at five o'clock.
- The King was alone in a room where there was a bad inn bed; he spent the night in an armchair.
- It was difficult to sleep in the inn, for the National Guards and all the inhabitants of the surrounding area were gathered outside, drinking, singing, and dancing in circles.
- Before leaving, MM. Dumas, Barnave, Maubourg and I reviewed the National Guards. We were very well received.
- We got into the carriage between five and six o'clock, and this time I placed myself between the King and the Queen; we were very cramped. The young Prince came onto my knees, playing with me. He was very cheerful, and above all very restless.
- The King sought to make conversation. He first asked me those idle questions meant to lead into more substantive matters. He asked me if I was married, I told him yes. He asked if I had children, I told him I had one who was older than his son. I said to him from time to time: “Look at these landscapes, how beautiful they are!” We were indeed on splendid hills, where the view was varied, extensive; the Marne flowed at our feet. “What a beautiful country,” I exclaimed, “France is! There is no kingdom in the world that can compare to it.” I let loose these ideas on purpose. I examined what impression they made on the King's physiognomy, but his face remained cold, inanimate in a truly distressing manner, and, to tell the truth, that mass of flesh was insensible. He wanted to speak to me of the English, of their industry, of the commercial genius of that nation. He articulated one or two phrases, then became confused, noticed it, and blushed. This difficulty in expressing himself gave him a timidity which I noticed several times. Those who do not know him would be tempted to take this timidity for stupidity; but they would be mistaken. It is very rare for him to let slip an inappropriate thing, and I did not hear him say a foolish thing.
- He applied himself diligently to going over geographical maps he had; he said: “We are here in such and such department, in such and such district, in such and such place.” The Queen also chatted with me in a level and familiar manner; she too spoke to me of the education of her children. She spoke of it as a mother of a family and as a fairly well-educated woman. She expounded very just principles in education. She said that all flatteries must be kept from the ears of princes, that they must never be told anything but the truth. But I have since learned that this was the fashionable jargon in all the courts of Europe. A very enlightened woman told me that she had seen, and quite familiarly, five or six princesses who all held the same language to her, without, however, concerning themselves for a minute with the education of their children.
- Moreover, it did not take me long to realize that everything she said to me was entirely superficial and no idea of strength or character ever escaped her. She had, in no sense, either the bearing or the demeanor appropriate to her station.
- I saw clearly, however, that she desired to be thought to have character. She repeated quite often that one must have it, and an occasion presented itself where she showed me that her idea of it was so trivial that I remained convinced she had none.
- The windows were always lowered; we were cooked by the sun and stifled by the dust; but with the country people and the National Guards following us in procession, it was impossible to do otherwise, because they wanted to see the King.
- However, the Queen seized a moment to lower the shade. She was then eating a pigeon leg. The people murmured. Madame Élisabeth moved to raise it. The Queen opposed it, saying: "No, one must have character." She seized the mathematical instant when the people were no longer complaining to raise the shade herself, and to make believe that she was not raising it because it had been demanded. She threw the pigeon leg bone out the carriage door, and she repeated her own expressions: "One must have character to the end."
- This circumstance is minute, but I cannot say how much it struck me.
- Upon entering Ferté-sous-Jouarre, we found a great gathering of citizens who were crying: “Long live the Nation! Long live the National Assembly! Long live Barnave! Long live Pétion.” I observed that these cries made a disagreeable impression on the Queen, especially on Madame Élisabeth. The King appeared insensible to them, and the discomfiture that reigned on their faces discomfited me myself.
- The mayor of Ferté-sous-Jouarre had let us know that he would receive the King, and the King had accepted this offer. The mayor's house is extremely pretty, the Marne bathes its walls. The garden accompanying this house is well laid out, well cared for, and the terrace on the riverbank is pleasant.
- I walked with Madame Élisabeth on this terrace before dinner, and there I spoke to her with all the frankness and vivacity of my character; I represented to her how badly surrounded and poorly advised the King was; I spoke to her of all the schemers, of all the court's maneuvers with the dignity of a free man and the disdain of a wise man. I put force and persuasion into expressing my sentiments, and the indignation of virtue made the language of reason sensible and engaging to her; she appeared attentive to what I said to her; she appeared touched by it, she took pleasure in my conversation, and I took pleasure in conversing with her. I would be very surprised if she did not have a beautiful and good soul, although very imbued with the prejudices of birth and spoiled by the vices of a court education.
- Barnave chatted for a moment with the Queen, but, as it seemed to me, in a rather indifferent manner.
- The King himself came onto the terrace to invite us to dine with him. We conferred, MM. Maubourg, Barnave and I, to know if we would accept. “This familiarity,” said one, “could appear suspect. — As it is not according to etiquette, one might think it is on account of his unfortunate situation that he invited us.” We agreed to refuse, and we went to tell him that we needed to withdraw for our correspondence, which prevented us from responding to the honor he did us.
- The King and his family were served in a separate room; we were served in another. The meals were splendid. We set off again at five o'clock. Leaving Ferté, there was commotion and noise around the carriage. Citizens were pushing against the National Guard, the National Guard were trying to prevent them from approaching. I saw one of our deputies, Kervelegan, forcing his way through the crowd, getting heated with the National Guardsmen who sought to push him away. He approached the carriage door cursing, saying “For a brute like that, this is certainly a lot of fuss!” I leaned my head out of the carriage door to speak to him. He was very agitated and said to me: “Are they all there? Take care, for there is still talk of spiriting them away; you are surrounded by very insolent people.” He withdrew, and the Queen said to me with a very stung and a little frightened air: “That is a very rude man!” I replied to her that he was angry with the guard who had acted brusquely toward him. She seemed to me to be afraid, and the young Prince let out two or three cries of fright.
- However, we journeyed on peacefully. The Queen, next to whom I was sitting, frequently addressed me, and I had opportunity to tell her with complete frankness what people thought of the court, what was said about all the schemers who frequented the palace.
- We spoke of the National Assembly, of the right side, of the left side, of Malouet, of Maury, of Cazalès, but with that ease one has with friends. I did not hold myself back in any way; I reported to her several remarks that were constantly made at court, which became public and which greatly displeased the people. I cited to her the newspapers that the King read. The King, who heard this entire conversation very well, said to me: “I assure you I read L'Ami du Roi no more than Marat.”
- The Queen appeared to take the keenest interest in this discussion; she encouraged it, enlivened it, she made remarks that were quite sharp, quite spiteful.
- “That is all very well,” she said to me, “people blame the King a great deal, but they do not know enough about the position he is in; he is given contradictory reports at every moment; he does not know what to believe; he is given successive advice that conflicts and cancels itself out; he does not know what to do; the way people make him unhappy, his position is untenable. At the same time, they only talk to him of particular misfortunes, of murders; it is all of that which determined him to leave Paris, his capital. The crown,” she added, “is suspended over his head. You are not unaware that there is a faction that does not want a king, and that this faction grows day by day.”
- I believe I perceived very distinctly the Queen's intention in letting these last words escape. To put it better, I could not mistake the application she wished to make of them.
- “Well!” I said to her, “Madame, I am going to speak to you with complete frankness, and I think I will not be suspect to you. I am one of those designated under the title of republicans, and, if you will, one of the chiefs of that faction. By principle, by sentiment, I prefer republican government to all others. It would take too long to develop my idea here, for there is this or that republic that I would like less than the despotism of a single man. But it is only too true, I do not ask that you admit it, but it is only too true that, almost everywhere, kings have made men unhappy, that they have regarded their fellow men as their property; that, surrounded by courtiers, by flatterers, they rarely escape the vices of their earliest education. But, Madame, is it accurate to say that a republican faction now exists that wishes to overthrow the current Constitution, to raise another on its ruins? People take pleasure in spreading this idea to have the pretext to form another faction outside the Constitution, a non-constitutional royalist faction, to stir up internal troubles. The trap is too crude. One cannot, in good faith, persuade oneself that the so-called republican faction is formidable; it is composed of wise men, men of honorable principles, who know how to calculate, and who would not risk a general upheaval which could lead more easily to despotism than to liberty.”
- “Ah! Madame, how well matters would have gone for the King had he sincerely favored the revolution! The troubles that agitate us would not exist and already the Constitution would be progressing, the enemies from abroad would respect us; the people are only too inclined to cherish and idolize their kings.”
- I cannot say with what energy, with what abundance of soul I spoke to her; I was animated by the circumstances and above all by the idea that the seeds of truth I was sowing could bear fruit, that the Queen would remember this moment of conversation.
- I finally explained myself very clearly on the King's escape. The Queen [and] Madame Élisabeth kept repeating that the King had been free to travel in the kingdom, that his intention had never been to leave it.
- “Permit me,” I said to the Queen, “not to probe into this intention. I shall suppose that the King had first stopped on the frontier; he would thereby have placed himself in a position to cross over to a foreign country at any moment; he might have found himself compelled to do so, and then, besides, the King could not have concealed from himself that his absence might occasion the gravest disorders; the least inconvenience of his distance from the National Assembly was that it brought the conduct of affairs to an abrupt halt.”
- I nevertheless did not permit myself a single time to let my opinion be glimpsed on the kind of penalty I believed applicable for a crime of this nature.
- In my turn, I put some affectation into recalling the fine calm that had existed in Paris upon the news of the King's departure. Neither the Queen nor Madame Élisabeth ever answered a word on that. They did not say that nothing was more fortunate; I even believed I perceived that they were very stung by it, they at least had the good faith not to appear pleased.
- We arrived at Meaux. The King, his family and we, we went down to the bishop's palace. The bishop was constitutional, which must not have pleased the King much; but he gave no sign of displeasure. Sentinels were placed at all the exits.
- The King supped very little, retired early to his apartment. As he had no linen, he borrowed a shirt from the usher who accompanied us.
- We had ourselves served in our rooms; we ate a bite in haste and did our dispatches. We left Meaux at six in the morning.
- I resumed my initial place between Madame Élisabeth and Madame de Tourzel, and Barnave placed himself between the King and the Queen. Never was a day longer and more tiring. The heat was extreme, and whirlwinds of dust enveloped us. The King offered me and poured me drink several times. We remained twelve whole hours in the carriage without getting out a moment. What surprised me is that the Queen, Madame Élisabeth and Madame de Tourzel manifested no need.
- The young Prince let out water two or three times. It was the King himself who unbuttoned his breeches and made him piss in a kind of large silver cup. Barnave held this cup once. It has been claimed that the carriage contained English-style conveniences [i.e., a chamber pot]. That may be, but I did not notice it. One thing I remarked is that Mademoiselle [Madame Royale] constantly placed herself on my knees, without leaving them, whereas before she had placed herself sometimes on Madame de Tourzel, sometimes on Madame Élisabeth.
- I thought this arrangement was concerted; that being on me, she was regarded as in a safe and sacred asylum that the people, in case of commotion, would respect.
- We marched tranquilly until Pantin. The cavalry that had accompanied us since Meaux and a detachment of that from Paris served as our escort and surrounded the carriage.
- When the National Guard on foot had joined us a little above Pantin, there was a commotion that threatened to have consequences.
- The grenadiers were pushing back the horses, the cavalrymen resisted, the light infantry joined the grenadiers to drive away the cavalry. The scuffle became intense; coarse words were hurled; they were about to come to blows; bayonets were brandished around the carriage whose windows were lowered. It was very possible that amidst this tumult some ill-intentioned people might land some blows on the Queen. I saw soldiers who appeared very irritated, who looked at her with a very evil eye. Soon she was insulted: “The w.... of a w...., the whore,” cried heated men, “she shows us her child in vain, we know well it is not his." The King heard this remark very distinctly. The young Prince, frightened by the noise, the clatter of weapons, let out some cries of terror; the Queen held him back, tears welling in her eyes.
- Barnave and I, seeing that the situation could become serious, put our heads out the doors. We harangued, they showed us confidence. The grenadiers told us: “Fear nothing, no harm will happen, we answer for it, but the post of honor belongs to us.” It was, in fact, a quarrel over precedence, but one that could have grown bitter, and which could have led to excesses
- Once these posts were taken up by the grenadiers, there were no more disputes: we marched without obstacles, truly very slowly. Instead of entering Paris by the Porte Saint-Denis, we skirted the walls and passed through the Porte de la Conférence.
- The gathering of people was immense, and it seemed that all of Paris and its suburbs were assembled in the Champs-Élysées. Never has a more imposing spectacle presented itself to the eyes of men. The roofs of the houses were covered with men, women and children; the barriers were bristling with them, the trees were filled with them; everyone had their hat on their head; the most majestic silence reigned, the National Guard carried their rifles butt-end up. This energetic calm was sometimes interrupted by the cries: Long live the Nation! The name of Barnave and mine were sometimes mixed with these cries, which made the most painful impression on Madame Élisabeth especially. What is remarkable is that nowhere did I hear a disrespectful word uttered against the King; they contented themselves with crying: Long live the Nation!
- We crossed the swing bridge which was closed immediately, which cut off the passage. There was nevertheless a great crowd in the Tuileries, National Guardsmen especially. Some of the deputies came out of the hall to witness the spectacle. M. d'Orléans was noticed, which seemed at least ill-considered. Having arrived in front of the palace’s entrance gate and at the foot of the first terrace, I believed a bloody scene was going to take place. The National Guardsmen pressed around the carriage without order and without wanting to hear anything. The bodyguards who were on the coachman’s seat were provoking the spectators’ indignation and rage. Bayonets were pointed at them with the most terrible threats and curses. I could picture the moment they were going to be immolated before our eyes. I threw my whole body out of the carriage door; I invoked the law; I raised myself against the dreadful outrage that was about to dishonor citizens; I told them they could get down; I commanded it to them with an authority that imposed. They were seized quite roughly, but they were protected and no harm was done to them.
- Some deputies cut through the crowd, arrived, supported us, exhorted, spoke in the name of the law.
- M. de Lafayette, at the same moment, appeared on horseback amidst the bayonets, expressed himself with fervor. Calm was not restored, but it was easy to see there existed no malicious intent.
- The carriage doors were opened; the King got out, they kept silent. The Queen got out. People murmured with considerable violence. The children were received with kindness, even with tenderness. I let everyone pass, the deputies accompanied; I brought up the rear. Already the gate was closed, I was very jostled before being able to enter. A guard took me by the collar and was about to give me a shove, not knowing me, when he was stopped suddenly. My name was given, he made a thousand apologies to me. I went up to the apartments. The King and his family were there in the room preceding the King's bedroom, like simple tired travelers, rather disheveled, leaning on furniture.
- A very singular and very piquant scene was that of Corollaire [Coroller du Moustoir, deputy of Brittany] approaching the King, and taking a doctoral tone, tempered however by a little kindness, reprimanding him like a schoolboy: “Haven't you made,” he said, “a fine escapade? What comes of being badly advised! You are good, you are loved; but see what an affair you have made!” And then he grew tender; one cannot imagine this bizarre reprimand; one must have seen it to believe it.
- A few minutes elapsed, we moved, Maubourg, Barnave and I, into the King's apartment; the Queen, Madame Élisabeth moved there also. Already all the valets were there in their usual costume. It was as if the King was returning from a hunting party; they did his toilet. Seeing the King, contemplating him, one could never have guessed all that had just happened; he was just as phlegmatic, just as tranquil as if nothing had been. He immediately put himself on display; all those surrounding him did not even appear to think that events had occurred which had kept the King away for several days and which brought him back. I was confounded by what I saw.
- We told the King it was necessary for him to give us the names of the three bodyguards; which he did.
French revolutionaries… who also happened to trolling.
Charles Germain, one of the most important figures of Babouvism, was imprisoned in Arras in terrible conditions. There he met Gracchus Babeuf, interacted with him frequently, and formed a deep friendship. Together they figured out which letters the prison authorities read and which ones were ignored. Between calculated outbursts and carefully crafted conversations, they wrote both sincere and strategic letters to their families, friends , political allies — and sometimes poked fun at the prison system.
For instance, Germain once wrote in a letter he knew would be inspected: “our concierge, a man of honor and integrity.” (There is no doubt how sarcastic he was being — he must have greatly enjoyed trolling his jailers.)
Félix Le Peletier:
During the neo-Jacobin repression carried out by Bonaparte in 1801, he was arrested and sent a letter to his enemy Fouché, claiming that neither his fortune nor his character would ever allow him to finance “pamphlets or plots” against Bonaparte, which he described as “the vilest of all roles.”
(In truth, Le Peletier was lying — and we have evidence for it: for months he had been attending and organizing meetings against Bonaparte, funding pamphlets, and participating in other anti-government actions. But of course he could not admit that. The letter is dated 15 Nivôse Year IX, although the full text has yet to be recovered.)
But Félix did not stop there. After being released from prison, he was sent to the Île de Ré while awaiting deportation. He and his companions were under special surveillance, though he settled in a small house, maintained good relations with the locals, and only had to sign a register at the town hall on certain days (while still keeping contact with Bonaparte’s opponents, including Colonel Oudet, one of the founders of the Société des Philadelphes).
In the autumn of 1802, Bonaparte decided to enforce the deportation decree. Félix had just enough time to warn his friends, and a police report stated that “the friends of Félix Lepeletier are looking for every possible means to bring him back.”
At the end of Nivôse, Year XI, Félix’s uncle Randon de Lucenay visited him on 1 February 1803 and left fifteen days later. A week after that, the mayor noticed the absence of Félix’s signature in the register and first assumed it was due to his worsening chest illness. But he soon realized Félix had escaped (his uncle had clearly come for that purpose) and had returned to Paris.
Worse still for the authorities, the Ministry of Justice learned of the escape before the mayor did — because Félix had written to the Ministry himself to mock them, informing them of his escape. I found the following excerpt: “He resolved to take this course after learning that his situation was about to worsen,” and he added that if the Ministry wished to reply, they could write to him at his uncle’s address.
It seems clear that, in addition to Randon de Lucenay, Félix was helped by his childhood friend Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angély, who even secured him an audience with Cambacérès while he was technically a fugitive.
His insolence earned him the Ministry’s lasting resentment: he was hunted by the secret police, but hid in the home of a woman named Royer, on rue Hauteville — a fact the police were aware of. An arrest warrant was issued on 15 February 1803, but the situation became so confused when it was discovered that Lepeletier had access to a minister and had met a major judge that police agents hesitated to arrest him.
A brigade chief had to justify himself to the prefect, writing:
“Various reports inform me, citizen prefect, that Félix Lepeletier has been seen several times walking freely in Paris and Versailles. Some even claim that several agents who had orders to arrest him felt they should not do so, due to rumors that his arrest warrant had been withdrawn.”
Nevertheless, the fact that he violated the prohibition barring him from Paris — in order to secure his rights in his recently deceased mother’s estate — eventually led to his arrest. He was imprisoned in the Temple and released only after giving his word of honor that he would leave Paris and go into supervised residence in a department of Italy.
I think it’s safe to say he let his mockery go a bit too far when he taunted the Ministry of Justice; had he been more discreet, he might have stayed in Paris longer and avoided yet another stay in prison (though his behavior remains very funny).
Louis Delgrès:
During Napoleon’s re-establishment of slavery, this revolutionary and soldier — who had fought for mainland France during the Revolution — now had to fight in Guadeloupe against Napoleonic troops.
According to Auguste Lacour, when Delgrès and his companion Joseph Ignace took refuge in the fort of Basse-Terre and found themselves surrounded by Richepance’s troops, Delgrès decided to mock them by playing the violin on the ramparts.
I would have added this passage — already mentioned by @anotherhumaninthisworld — from Étienne Dumont’s Souvenirs sur Mirabeau et sur les deux premières assemblées législatives (1832):
“I remember that one day, gathered at Pétion’s house to decide what would be proposed in the assembly regarding the king’s return, he was calmly playing his violin. Brissot became genuinely angry at such indifference and frivolity when it was a matter of the monarchy’s fate.”
But in this case, I think it’s safe to say Pétion wasn’t trolling anyone, even if his behavior irritated Brissot (and even if it is funny).
Feel free to add more.
Sources:
Laurence Constant Ancet
Jean-Marc Schiappa
Étienne Dumont
Auguste Lacour
