The departments accepted passively the results of the insurrection of August 10. Men feared lest by offering opposition they might render easier the advance of the allies. Lafayette, while he prepared to defend the road to Paris, refused to recognise the validity of what had been done. The Assembly declared him a traitor, his soldiers abandoned him, and, in company with three other members of the late constituent Assembly, he fled across the frontier, where all four were arrested and imprisoned by the Austrians. The Assembly itself had lost all control over the course of events. The men who had refused to take the right step of deposing Louis had now to pay the penalty. That which might have been effected without shock by the constituent or legislative Assembly had been done by a violent explosion of popular wrath. The Assembly had failed to take the lead, and after its flagrant subjection to mob dictation, it was without moral energy or force. Yet a mob, however powerful to destroy, is powerless to reconstruct. The one organised force in Paris which could translate the feelings of the populace into action was that of the sixty or seventy commissioners who had dispersed the legal Municipal Council on the night before the insurrection. A few days afterwards they raised their number by fresh elections to 288. From henceforth this irregularly-elected body is known to history as the Commune of Paris. With this new Commune supreme power for the moment practically resided. It was strong because it knew its own mind, and because it fully accepted the work of those of its members who had swept away a king suspected of being in alliance with a foreign enemy. Among the newly-chosen members was Robespierre, the only one who had hitherto been of note. Other names, such as those of Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois, Hébert and Chaumette now rose first into prominence. Of the mass many were unprincipled adventurers, others timid timeservers. ♦The insurrectionary Commune.♦ To a few the holding of municipal office was merely a step in their career upwards. The better men resigned office or kept out of sight, the more ruffianly and unscrupulous came to the front. The ministers were thwarted and disobeyed, the Assembly threatened, public property plundered, numbers of arrests made, liberty of speech suppressed. Constitutionalists for the most part kept away from the Assembly, and laws were passed which before the insurrection had been rejected by large majorities. Nonjurors were required to leave the country within fifteen days on pain of ten years’ imprisonment; and unbeneficed ecclesiastics, on whom the oath had never been imposed, were subjected to the same fate whenever six citizens of their department joined in demanding their exile. Emigrants’ property was confiscated and offered for sale. Administrative bodies and municipalities were authorised to issue warrants of arrest against persons suspected of political crime. This law, which may be likened to a suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in England, destroyed at a blow the safeguards against arbitrary arrest and imprisonment which the constituent Assembly had toiled to build up.

Yet, in spite of the terror that reigned, the position of the Commune was insecure. In the departments it had no supporters. In Paris it could only reckon on some hundreds of arms and votes. The artisans of St. Antoine had taken part in the insurrection to destroy the throne, not with the intention of placing power in the hands of the present holders of office, most of whom were men entirely unknown to fame. The Assembly resented their ascendancy, and there was no doubt that one of the first acts of the Convention would be to attempt to establish its own authority over the Commune.

With the object of obtaining political supremacy an atrocious scheme was devised, in the execution of which the advance of the enemy assisted. The allies, marching from Coblentz, arrived before Longwy on August 20. The place surrendered in four days. Verdun was next besieged. Dumouriez, who commanded in Lafayette’s place, was at Sedan with 20,000 men; Kellermann with another 20,000 at Metz. Unless these forces should unite before Verdun surrendered, the way to Paris would be open to the enemy. Strenuous exertions were being made by all authorities to send men to the frontier, and Danton devoted to the task unflagging vigour and energy. He dominated in the ministry over his Girondist colleagues, and by his stirring appeals excited the passion and enthusiasm of whatever audience he addressed. ‘The bells that ring,’ he cried, as recruits hastened to the Champs de Mars, ‘are no signal of alarm. They sound the charge upon our country’s enemies. To conquer them we need audacity, and again audacity, and ever audacity, and France is saved.’ On his proposition the Assembly decreed that commissioners should go from house to house and make an inventory of arms, horses and carts. Of this decree the Commune took advantage for its own purposes. For two days and nights the barriers were closed, and many hundred persons arrested, principally nobles and constitutionalists. Twenty-four hours later, while the church bells were ringing and Danton exciting citizens to enlist, bands of assassins, hired by the Commune, visited the prisons and massacred their inmates. The work was carried out under the special direction of a committee composed of the municipal officers at the head of the police, to whom Marat and a few other persons, who, like himself, were not members of the Commune, joined themselves. Besides political prisoners, a number of ordinary criminals perished, including women and boys, though in most cases the women were spared. At two of the chief prisons, the Abbey and La Force, some show of judicial forms was observed. At the Abbey a dozen individuals appointed themselves judges with a president at their head. Each prisoner was called in turn before them. He was asked one or two questions, and without further discussion, either acquitted or ordered to be taken to the other prison, La Force, a formula which meant death. As the condemned passed through the prison gates, executioners stationed without rained blows upon his back and head. The street became strewn with corpses and ran with blood.

Similar scenes were enacted at La Force, where Hébert acted as president of the tribunal. The massacres effected in eight prisons went on continuously for five days and nights (September 2–7), during which it is calculated that more than a thousand prisoners were butchered. No action was taken to interfere with the murderers. Ministers and deputies were afraid even to denounce the Commune in vigorous language lest the weapons of the assassins should be turned against themselves. They had no material force on which to rely. Santerre, who commanded the national guard, obeyed the Commune. The inhabitants of Paris remained perfectly passive, the violence of party strife having destroyed enthusiasm for political ideals, and the sense of common duty. In the midst of the butchery the news came that Verdun had fallen, and the uncertainty of their own fate deadened men’s sympathy for the fate of those charged justly or unjustly with being in connivance with the enemy. So far as Paris was concerned the contrivers of the massacres succeeded in their object. The elections to the Convention were held while terror reigned over the city, and twenty-four men, some of whom were partners in the crime, and none of whom were prepared to denounce it, were returned for Paris. An attempt was made to influence, by like means, the elections in the departments. A circular, signed by Marat and his colleagues, was sent out inviting the country to follow the example of the capital and to murder traitors. This incitation to massacre, was, however, attended with small success. In a few towns murders were committed at the instigation of agents of the Commune; but generally the elections were conducted without disturbance.

When Verdun surrendered Dumouriez was still at Sedan, and Kellermann at Metz. Between the allies and the plain of Champagne was only a natural barrier, the forest of Argonnes, a range of wooded hills. Fortunately for France the allies were dilatory in all their movements. The campaign, instead of being commenced in the spring, had been delayed till autumn, when the season was less favourable and France better prepared to resist. The Duke of Brunswick was a cautious commander, who had acquired his military reputation in the Seven Years’ War. With 80,000 men he did not believe it possible to maintain his communications and occupy Paris in safety. His proposal, therefore, had been to capture the fortresses on the Meuse, and to reserve operations against the capital for the ensuing spring. But the King of Prussia, who in person took part in the war, was eager to push on to Paris and to release the royal family. After the fall of Verdun the Duke assented, but advanced slowly and reluctantly. Meanwhile Dumouriez by rapid marches got before him to the forest, and occupied the passes leading through it. Driven from his positions as Brunswick advanced, he rallied his men in the plain and made a stand near St. Menehould, where he was joined by Kellermann. Recruits were incessantly pouring in, so that the united French forces numbered 60,000 men. The allies on their descent into the plain took up a position between the French army and Paris. The weather was very wet, the roads nearly impassable, and the invading army with difficulty supplied with bread. The placing of garrisons in Longwy and Verdun, together with sickness, had reduced the effective force under Brunswick’s command to 40,000 men, and he could not push on to Paris leaving Dumouriez’ army unbeaten behind him. The King was eager to fight, but Brunswick persuaded him, in place of attempting to storm the French positions, merely to open a cannonade on Kellermann’s forces, which were stationed in advance of Dumouriez’ men on some heights near the village of Valmy (September 20). This cannonade was the turning point of the campaign. The young French recruits stood fire so well that the allies determined on retreat. The Austrian troops were afterwards called off for the defence of Belgium, and thus Brunswick’s plan of holding the line of the Meuse was rendered impracticable. Verdun and Longwy were evacuated, and the Prussians retreated to Coblentz (October).

The Legislative Assembly gave place to the Convention on September 21, the day after the cannonade of Valmy. At once, the abolition of monarchy was decreed, and the following day was henceforth accounted as the first of the French Republic. The new Assembly consisted of 749 members, of whom 186 had belonged to the legislative, 77 to the constituent Assembly, and 486 were new men. The constitutionalists, through intimidation or want of public spirit, had kept away from the poll, and among all the deputies were none who did not vote for the abolition of monarchy with real or feigned enthusiasm. The Girondists now sat on the right, forming the conservative side of the House. Vergniaud, Brissot, Gensonné, and Guadet were all re-elected, and around them gathered a knot of new comers, amongst whom were Buzot, Pétion, Barbaroux, Louvet, and others who shared their views. The deputation of Paris, together with about thirty deputies from the departments, now formed the Mountain, sitting as in the last Assembly on the topmost benches of the left. Here were Marat and other directors of the massacres, several municipal officers, including Robespierre, Billaud-Varennes, and Collot d’Herbois, the Duke of Orleans, who to flatter the mob now called himself Philip Egalité, Desmoulins, and Danton, who resigned the post of minister of justice in order to retain his seat in the Assembly.

From the opening of the Convention irreconcilable hostility was declared between the Girondists and the Mountain. To secure the independence of the Convention and supremacy for their own party, the Girondists sought to bring to justice the contrivers of the massacres, and to destroy the ascendancy of the Commune. They resented the stain cast on the revolution, and were eager to prove to Europe that the massacres were the work of a few hired assassins, and not, as the deputies of Paris strove to represent, of the people of the capital rising spontaneously to take vengeance on traitors. In appearance their position was strong. Through their supporters, who occupied the ministries, they directed the government and foreign relations. They were enthusiastic, brilliant, eloquent; they had right on their side, and both the country and the Convention shared their abhorrence of the crimes committed. Yet the difficulties in their way were not to be easily overcome. The Commune ruled the capital and had in its pay bands of thieves and assassins, whose crimes bound them to its support. The departments had taken no part in the insurrection of August 10, yet had accepted without question the result, and the predominance of Paris over them had thus acquired all the strength of uncontested fact. Public spirit, moreover, no longer existed amongst large masses of men. Primary assemblies were nearly deserted, and few of the many thousands whose names were inscribed as national guards rendered active service. Under such circumstances the task of crushing the criminal band which, through the Commune and the sections, ruled the city, was in any case difficult, and for the Girondists especially impracticable. They were unversed in the conduct of affairs and were strong party men, intensely credulous and suspicious in relation to all that was outside their own circle. They stood on very narrow ground. Republican fervour and hatred of Catholicism rendered them harsh and intolerant towards whatever savoured of reaction. Abhorrence of crime and pride in their own cause made them averse to compromise, and to having dealings with men whose hands they believed to be soiled with the blood of the September massacres. They had neither the traditions of office nor the large capacity which creates a government by its power of taking the lead in a distracted nation. Hence they did not attempt to conciliate constitutionalists, nor yet to break the power of the Commune by dividing its leaders, and bribing its followers with money and office. As a party they did not inspire confidence. They were without organisation or union, and being constantly divided in opinion amongst themselves, they often voted on contrary sides. Their chief orator, Vergniaud, possessed talent of a high order, and qualities in which the party, as a body, was notably deficient—moderation and foresight; but he was a man of retired habits and unassuming disposition, who had neither taste nor inclination for the position of a party leader. Hence the Girondists never brought forward any series of well-concerted measures for gaining their objects, nor were they ever able to obtain a working majority in the Convention. Impetuous orators vaguely threatened to bring the Commune to justice, made vehement attacks on the whole Paris deputation, and, singling out the two most powerful men belonging to it, Robespierre and Danton, accused them of aspiring, in conjunction with Marat, to form a triumvirate, and Robespierre especially of aiming at a dictatorship. General charges of this character could not be substantiated and were easily repelled. Where, asked Robespierre, were the arms and the men by which he could obtain a dictatorship, while he accused the Girondists of seeking to sow disunion by calumniating Paris. It was no easy matter to fix even on him the charge of being an author of the massacres. All members of the Commune were, without doubt, immediately responsible for what had taken place, but to allege mere inaction as proof of guilt was hardly befitting to men who had formed part of the legislature at the time Robespierre had been at the Hôtel de Ville, and had expressed hostility towards the Girondists; but to this day it is a matter of dispute how deeply he was implicated. Danton, though not a member of the insurrectionary Commune, had been Minister of Justice. He, indeed, had made no effort to stay the assassins’ hands, but there is no proof whatever that it was he who gave the signal for the shedding of blood, and officially he was no more responsible than Roland, who was Minister of the Interior. It was, however, Danton whom the Girondists regarded with most suspicion and distrust, whom they were readiest to attack, and most eager to crush. To them he was vice personified. His language was cynical; he affected to despise scruples of conscience in action; crime could not revolt him; they believed him corrupt and blood-stained, while he despised them as squeamish politicians, who did not comprehend the conditions under which they worked, and who, from being over-scrupulous in their choice of tools, let power slip from their grasp. Nevertheless, he desired reconciliation with them. He recognised the value of their disinterestedness and patriotism, and was aware that the more narrow and criminal the base on which the republic rested, the less would be its power of endurance, and the less room would there be for himself to exert influence. Not easily moved by petty considerations, and devoid of envy and resentment, Danton was the one man on the left, as Vergniaud on the right, whose speeches bore no trace of personal animosity.

The Centre of the Convention, often styled the Plain, consisted mainly of new-comers from the departments, who abhorred Marat and his doctrines, and resented the tyranny exercised by the Commune. But in place of giving undisputed victory to the right, they followed the safer course of a temporising policy between the two parties. They feared to come into violent collision with the unscrupulous Commune, and regarded the exaggerated charges brought against Robespierre and Danton as what in fact they were—the fruits of violent party hate. It was, indeed, no wonder that men who accepted the results of the last insurrection should hesitate to send Danton to the scaffold, or should doubt whether the revolution, having gone on thus far, could sustain itself without him. The services that he had rendered in organising the national defence were undoubted. There was no man so capable, with his stentorian voice, his violent gesticulations, his abrupt vigorous language, of rousing popular enthusiasm. The Girondists were no mob orators, but Danton was at home alike in the Convention and in the streets.

The contest, incessantly renewed by the Girondists but never ending in victory, resulted in strengthening the position of the Mountain. The galleries of the House were ordinarily occupied by adherents of the Jacobins, who applauded the deputies on the left and hooted those on the right. Petitioners, often accompanied by armed mobs, invaded the Convention, menacing insurrection unless their demands were complied with. A project was brought forward by the Girondists for giving the Convention a paid guard of 4,000 men, drawn in equal proportions from the departments. But it never became law; and in case of a breach with the Commune, the Convention had nothing to rely on except recruits passing through Paris on their way to the frontier. A law was finally carried for the re-election of the Commune. As, however, the inhabitants of the city, through fear or indifference, did not attend the sections, the result of the elections was merely to confirm the existing party in power. Although since August 10 manhood suffrage had prevailed, in many sections there were no more than 150 or 200 voters present out of the many thousands who had the right to take part in the elections. Chaumette and Hébert, as well as other members of the revolutionary Commune, were re-elected. This new Commune was not fully organised until July 1793. In the meantime its Council at the Hôtel de Ville, often reduced to twenty members in place of its full complement of ninety-six, ruled Paris under the guidance of Chaumette and Hébert.

The war increased the difficulties of the internal situation. Success at first attended the French arms. During September French troops occupied Nice and Savoy, part of the dominions of the King of Sardinia, whose unconcealed hostility had given France a pretext for a declaration of war. At the time when the Austrians and Prussians invaded Lorraine, the French General Custine, with 18,000 men, marched from Alsace against the smaller lay and ecclesiastical states on the Rhine. Nowhere was serious opposition attempted. The petty rulers proclaimed their neutrality, or fled to Coblentz. The important fortress of Mainz surrendered. From this point it was open to Custine to intercept the retreat of the Prussians from Lorraine; but, eager to push his conquests further, he crossed the Rhine and took Frankfort, whence he commanded the surrounding country (November). After the retreat of the allied army through the Argonnes, Dumouriez hastened to carry out the project of invading Belgium, where the fortresses were out of repair, and little preparation for resistance had been made. A battle was fought near the village of Jemmapes (November 6), in which the Austrians were defeated. They retreated behind the Meuse, leaving the French in undisputed possession of the country.

The victory of Jemmapes, the first pitched battle fought, was greeted with a burst of applause from one end of France to the other. When the Legislative Assembly had declared war on Austria, it had represented France as acting on a purely defensive policy, and had repudiated wars of conquest as contrary to the right of each people to shape its own destinies. Now that France was in possession of conquered territories, the question of the manner in which they were to be dealt with necessarily arose. The idea of making a merely diplomatic use of them, and of restoring them in case of convenience to their former rulers without regard to the wishes of the inhabitants, found no supporters. The point at issue was whether the inhabitants were to be left really free to select their own form of government, or whether France should influence their decision.

Since the commencement of the war the Convention had become inflamed with the desire of spreading the principles of the revolution far beyond the frontiers of France. With the advance of French armies it hoped that peoples would rise against their rulers, and that not only the Continental countries in which the old aristocratic institutions were in full play would willingly accept French aid for the constitution of society and government upon a new basis, but that even in constitutional England the people would insist upon the establishment of the French system. Exultant in what they had already achieved, French enthusiasts underestimated the strength of the forces opposed to them, and overlooked the fact that a strong sense of nationality was to be found in England; and that, under circumstances favourable to its development, it might spring into activity even in countries where it seemed most dead, as in Germany and in Italy. Under the influence of such crude impulses the Convention gave wanton offence to governments at peace with France by the issue of a proclamation, proffering assistance to all peoples desirous of obtaining their freedom (November 19).

The wish to spread revolutionary principles operated strongly upon the policy pursued by the Convention in relation to its conquests. The annexation of conquered territories involved carrying out in them the changes already effected in France. For smaller territories the maintenance of political independence was in reality impracticable amidst the clash of the great powers. Hence it came to pass that the Convention rapidly gravitated towards a policy of forced annexation, which they attempted to conceal by accepting the vote of their own partisans as the expression of the popular will. Other motives also existed. The ambition was roused of extending the French frontier to the Alps and the Rhine. In case of annexations, the financial difficulties of the government would be decreased. Church property in the newly-acquired territory would become national property, and the possession of new securities would raise the value of the assignats. In Savoy and in Nice, as also in Liége and the small states near the Rhine, much discontent prevailed, and no small part of the population desired union with France. But in the Austrian Netherlands the case was different. The clergy and feudal aristocracy possessed much influence; the forms of constitutional government existed, and there was a powerful party which sought to maintain political independence of France while discarding connection with Austria. The Convention accordingly decreed the union of Nice and Savoy with France, but hesitated to annex the Austrian Netherlands. Its hesitation was not due merely to the fact that only a minority of the population desired union. Further consequences had to be taken into consideration. The attempt to unite Belgium was certain to involve France in hostilities with a fresh and formidable enemy. For centuries it had been a cardinal point of English foreign policy that Belgium was to be in possession of a power capable of resisting French aggression, and the extension of the war was deprecated by all deputies who cared for the restoration of internal order and settled government. A war with England would seriously increase the expenses of government, which were already only met by fresh issues of assignats, whilst the rapid rise of prices which had ensued inflicted suffering on the working-classes, and placed means at the command of the Commune of exciting discontent against the Convention. An alternative plan of creating an independent Belgian republic was desired by Dumouriez and by some members of the Convention. Yet it was unlikely that this plan would succeed in averting war with England. English statesmen were as averse to the establishment of a Belgian republic as to the annexation of the country to France. In fact, the Convention could only maintain peace by abandoning the principles on which it was acting, and by giving a pledge that Belgium should be restored to Austria. There was, moreover, an immediate ground of quarrel. After the French armies were in occupation of Belgium, the Convention had proclaimed the free navigation of the Scheldt, which by an European arrangement, agreeable to England and Holland, but ruinous to the trade of Antwerp, was closed to commerce. This measure gave great offence to England as increasing French influence, and was regarded in itself as sufficient ground for a declaration of war. Though in accordance with the new principles of the rights of nations not recognised by cabinets, but which were no more than the principles of justice itself, the liberation of the Scheldt was in the teeth of treaties to which both England and France had been parties. The decree of November 19 (p. 131), which the French government refused to withdraw, was regarded as a direct incitation to subjects to revolt. The passing of a new decree (December 15), ordering French generals to proclaim wherever they went the sovereignty of the people, the suppression of the existing authorities, and the abolition of feudal rights and privileges, was a second clear intimation to Europe that France was intent on spreading revolutionary principles beyond her own borders.

A portion of the Convention desired, at whatever hazard, to carry out an immediate annexation of Belgium, and afterwards to invade Holland, in accordance with a plan proposed by Dumouriez. Holland was at peace with France, but there was no doubt whatever that in case of war between England and France, the stadt-holder, who was maintained in his seat by English and Prussian influence, would join the coalition. The majority, however, led by the Girondists, hesitated to adopt this course. Although their minds were inflated with the desire of rousing revolutionary movements in other countries, including England itself, they sought, from a sense of internal peril which every day grew stronger, to circumscribe the field of war, and both to maintain peace with England and to withdraw Prussia from the coalition. To attain their ends the ministers were prepared to abandon the project of invading Holland, to suffer the King and his family to quit France, and to defer the final settlement of Belgium till the making of peace. But neither the disposition of the King of Prussia nor of the English people rendered it possible for any understanding to be arrived at on these terms.

The allied princes had not entered into the war out of pure chivalry, and did not intend to withdraw from it until they had obtained what in diplomatic language they called an indemnity—in other words, territorial acquisitions, either at the cost of France or of some neutral state. Shortly before hostilities broke out Catherine II. proposed to Frederick William a second partition of Poland. The King, though bound by two treaties to maintain the integrity of Poland, entered into the agreement. It was, therefore, to Poland that he looked for his indemnity, and his assistance in the war against France was the price he paid for the Emperor’s consent to his making acquisitions in the east. Francis, on his side, looked for conquests in France, and also had in his mind the revival of Joseph’s project of making over Belgium to the Elector of Bavaria in exchange for that country. A study of the map of Europe shows clearly what would have been the advantage of the exchange to Austria in consolidating her dominions and giving her increased predominance within the Empire.

While the personal feeling of Frederick William involved his subjects in a war for which they had no enthusiasm, public opinion in England compelled the Government to take a hostile attitude. William Pitt, supported by the King, the country gentlemen, and the commercial middle classes, had fought his way to power in 1783 in a sharp struggle in which the Whig aristocracy was overthrown. As the head of the Tory party he professed a toryism very different from the past toryism of Harley and of St. John, which had battled against dissenters and the mercantile class, and from the future toryism of Eldon, which was to battle against improvement. In one sense he was the Turgot of England. He was pre-eminently a peace minister, and he had taken the lead, sometimes far in advance of the public opinion of his day, in advocating projects of financial and economical reform. Those projects he had viewed from the point of view of the highest statesmanship. He had sought to bind England and Ireland together by a commercial union, which he was unable to carry into effect. He had sought to bind England and France together by a commercial treaty which had increased the communications between the two countries. It was not his fault that even a Parliament in which he counted so many supporters had rejected a scheme of Parliamentary reform, which would have gone far to bind class to class in England itself. Yet, even in his failures, his efforts after good had made his government inapproachably strong. The fallen Whig aristocracy, indeed, was very different from the effete privileged orders of France. It counted amongst its members and its followers high-spirited and large-minded politicians, such as Fox and Burke. Its traditions were those of men brought up to combat for their ideas in the open light of publicity, and to support their cause by argument before their fellows. Yet there was something in it of the faults which had made the continental nobilities unpopular. It was narrow and exclusive, and was apt to regard office and emolument as the special perquisite of its own members. Against such an aristocracy Pitt stood as the champion of so much of equality as the conditions of English society admitted of. Representing, as he did, the King and the middle classes, he advocated a rational government, founded on the best political science of the day. It was impossible that if war broke out with France he should continue his work of internal reform. Events happening in France were but superficially comprehended in England. At first some of the Whigs, following Fox, extended sympathy to a revolutionary movement which put forward as its object the establishment of constitutional government. As soon as disorder and violence showed themselves in France a large section of the Whigs, including most of the great landowners, joined the Tories in viewing the movement with distrust, though the latter had confidence in Pitt, who sought to maintain friendship between the two governments. Neither party had any clear perception of the fact that the revolution was produced by social as well as political causes, and that its real aim was to complete the destruction of the old feudal order long since in slow process of decay. The special causes of discontent operating in France were left unnoted. The comparative excellence of government in England made Englishmen callous to the past misgovernment of France. The fact was patent that the revolution declared war on established institutions, and exhibited propagandist tendencies. Public opinion, therefore, soon set strongly against it. Already, in 1790, Burke, breaking loose from Fox, published his ‘Reflections on the French Revolution,’ in which his eloquent declamations against men who were destroying continuity between the past and the present, helped to ripen the distrust that already existed in the minds of his countrymen into fear and hatred. After the fall of the throne and the September massacres, intense alarm prevailed lest the spread of democratic principles should produce similar convulsions in England. In reality there was no danger. The middle classes were not jealous of the upper; the people were not starving. Societies established for the promotion of French principles obtained but a few hundred supporters, a strong proof of the unmoved disposition of the people at large. The panic, however, if unfounded, was genuine. To secure themselves against danger the governing classes desired to suppress the revolution by force of arms, and loudly demanded the reclosing of the Scheldt and the evacuation of Belgium as the price of peace.

While his supporters clamoured for war, Pitt still strove to avert a breach. In the hope of effecting a European peace he made offers of mediation at Berlin and Vienna. His offers were, however, but coldly received, since both the Emperor and the King expected to gain from the continuance of hostilities. War, therefore, became inevitable. The French ministers went to the full length of their tether when, for the sake of the neutrality of England, they left Holland untouched, and offered to defer the settlement of Belgium till the making of peace. To obtain more of the Convention was not in their power, nor was it their wish. To satisfy the demands of England by reclosing the Scheldt and re-establishing the old order of things in Belgium, appeared to the mass of deputies, irrespective of party, as a base and cowardly abandonment of principle. As the hostility of England grew more manifest, the party in the Convention for immediate annexation gained strength; and in the meantime an event happened which caused the balance of power hitherto on the side of the Gironde to fall on the side of the Mountain.

Since the fall of the throne the King and his family had been kept under harsh durance in the Temple, an old keep once belonging to the Knights Templars. The Convention, after long and stormy debates, decreed that Louis should be brought to trial before itself. The charge that could justly be made against him was that, having undertaken to govern in accordance with the constitution, he had sought foreign aid to overthrow it. But for this he had been dethroned, and neither the country nor the Convention had ground or right to take vengeance on him for seeking to free himself from the untenable position which the constituent Assembly had required him to accept. The deputies, however, judged Louis’s conduct in the light of their own theories. They set the nation in the place of the King, and then accused Louis of treason because he had conspired against the will of the sovereign people. None had any doubt of his guilt; few that its due penalty was death. Many, however, even of those who thought his crime merited death, desired not to shed his blood, but merely to give satisfaction to their pride as republicans by passing sentence against him either of banishment or of captivity till the end of the war. The ministers hoped by suspending the sword over his head to put pressure on Prussia, and to induce her to abandon her alliance with Austria, in return for the liberty of the royal family. The Montagnards, or members of the Mountain, however, sought Louis’s life. They were eager to defy the sovereigns of Europe, and to give proof of their passion for equality by sending Louis to the scaffold. ‘Let us,’ said Danton, ‘cast down before Europe, as the gauntlet of battle, the head of a king.’ The Montagnards were determined, moreover, to involve the majority of their fellow deputies in an act that should unite them by an indissoluble bond to themselves. The trial could be but a form; Louis’s guilt was a foregone conclusion. The question what sentence should be passed upon him became the object of a fierce party conflict. The Mountain set all the machinery at its command in motion to intimidate the Convention. In the clubs and in the sections a cry was raised for ‘the tyrant’s blood,’ and the ignorant populace was taught to believe that the existing high prices were in some occult manner connected with Louis’s existence as a captive. As the trial dragged on, the Girondists became alarmed at the danger of their own situation and the possibility of defeat; but not for the sake of France, much less for the sake of Louis, were they prepared to belie the past acts of their political life by declaring him innocent. For, if Louis had not been in connivance with the enemy, where was the justification for the insurrection of August 10? They, as well as he, had sworn to maintain the constitution. Twice Louis was brought before the Convention, once to hear his accusation read, a second time when his counsel spoke in his defence. He did not dispute the authority of the Convention, but denied the truth of the charges brought against him. The Convention unanimously pronounced him guilty of treason against the nation; 361 deputies voted for the penalty of death; 72 for death, but with a demand for delay of execution or for some other restriction; 288 for imprisonment or banishment, thus leaving only a majority of one for immediate death, though when a final vote was taken two days later, on a fresh proposal to delay execution, the majority for immediate death was swollen to 60 (January 17). Each deputy voted aloud, and during the whole sitting, which lasted many hours, the galleries and corridors of the house were occupied by armed adherents of the Commune and the Jacobins.

Since his imprisonment Louis’s time had been spent in preparation for death. Towards his enemies he entertained no feeling of resentment or hatred, and received intelligence of the sentence passed against him with calmness and resignation. On January 21, while the city maintained a mournful silence, the King was guillotined on the great square, now known as the Place de la Concorde, which since August 10 had borne the name of the Place de la Révolution.

The execution of the King hastened the rupture with England. Pitt sent the French agent in London out of the country. The Convention adopted a decree for effecting the union of Belgium with France, and without a voice being raised in opposition declared war on England and Holland (February 1). About this time Spain and Portugal, the Empire, and most of the Italian states joined the coalition.

The French generals had owed their brilliant successes in part to the speed of their movements, in part also to the defenceless state of the countries invaded. During the winter Frankfort had been stormed by the Prussians (December 2, 1792), and Custine had been driven back to the Rhine. For the recovery of Belgium and the territory of the Empire on the left bank of the river, Austria and Prussia brought together more than 200,000 men, and these formed two armies. The northern, commanded by an Austrian, Coburg, was to operate against Belgium; the southern, commanded by the Duke of Brunswick, was to besiege Mainz, and to drive Custine out of the Palatinate.

The French government authorised Dumouriez to invade Holland, though the probabilities of success were now small. Coburg was advancing towards the Meuse, and the Dutch were prepared to defend the passage of their rivers. Dumouriez had only 100,000 men for purposes of defence and invasion. He made a rapid march through the west of Flanders as far as the arm of the sea which forms the mouth of the Meuse, where he was checked by want of means of transport. Meanwhile one of his officers, Miranda, guarded the line of the Meuse and besieged Maestricht. Coburg advanced and relieved the town. The French troops, three-fourths of whom were untrained volunteers, fled in disorder and deserted by thousands. The pursuit, however, was not closely pressed, and Miranda, rallying his scattered forces, took up a strong position near Louvain.

These disasters reacted on the situation in the capital. The hold that the Girondists possessed on the Convention grew feebler every day. They had failed in all they had attempted. Their foreign policy had broken down, and the reproach fell heavily on the ministry of not having suffered Dumouriez to invade Holland when the proposition was first made. They had failed to save the King’s life, so that the whole constitutional party outside the Assembly was as fully estranged from them as from the Mountain. In spite of the fresh municipal elections in Paris, which they had decreed in hope of changing the character of the Commune (p. 128), it was the same criminal band that still exercised authority. To provide for the war expenditure resort was had to new issues of assignats. Prices incessantly rose, and discontent spread rapidly amongst the working population, taught by agitators to regard the right side of the Convention as the cause alike of the prevailing destitution and of military disaster. The deputies of the centre, in alarm for their own safety, and without confidence in the Girondists as leaders, followed a vacillating course, accordingly as they were actuated by their principles, their fears, or their regard for the necessities of the situation. When Miranda’s retreat was known an attempt was made to get up an insurrection directed against the Girondists. It failed, from want of union and support. But the bands at the service of the Jacobins and the Commune gathered round the Convention, filling the galleries and menacing deputies. The Mountain made use of the occasion to obtain the adoption of a law for the creation of an extraordinary criminal court, to judge without appeal conspirators against the state (March 9). The Girondists opposed the measure, but in vain; and thus were Robespierre and Marat provided with a ready weapon with which to strike at the heads of those who had so long menaced their own.

Affairs in Belgium assumed a yet more alarming aspect. Dumouriez, hastening back from Holland, rejoined Miranda near Louvain. He returned resolved to break with the Convention. He had no enthusiasm for democratic or republican ideals, and was excessively irritated because the Convention had not pursued the policy advocated by himself, of creating Belgium into a separate republic. He resolved to make a stand and to fight the Austrians, expecting after victory to be able to dictate his own terms to the Convention and to mediate between France and the allies. But a long contested battle, which raged fiercely round the village of Neerwinden, ended in the defeat and flight of the French (March 18). Dumouriez, with a remnant of his army, effected a retreat to the frontier, where he sought to make good his position by opening negotiations with Coburg. He offered to march to Paris and place the Dauphin on the throne if Coburg would undertake to give him moral and, in case of need, material support. As a pledge of good faith he was prepared to admit Austrian troops into Lille and Valenciennes, on condition that the towns were restored to France on the making of peace. It had long been suspected at Paris that Dumouriez was not to be trusted; but neither Girondists nor Montagnards had dared to propose his dismissal, because they had no general of talent to take his place. After the battle of Neerwinden he made no concealment of his hostile intentions; and on the arrival of four deputies sent by the Convention to summon him to Paris, gave them up to Coburg as hostages for the safety of the royal family. In the meantime every effort was made by the agents of the government to secure the fidelity of the army, and with success. The soldiers refused to betray France to Austria, and Dumouriez, to save himself from arrest, took refuge in Coburg’s quarters (April 3).

Dumouriez’ treachery increased the violence of the party struggle at Paris, where Girondists and Montagnards strove to cast on each other the odium of being the traitor’s accomplices. It was against Danton that the Girondists directed their most vehement attacks. They made charges in support of which they had no evidence to bring, and which have never been proved. According to them Danton had been bribed by Louis; he had misapplied public money; in Belgium he had plundered state property. They even accused him of plotting with Dumouriez the restoration of the throne, because he had praised that general’s talent in the Convention. Danton turned fiercely on his assailants, threatening irreconcilable war. Counter accusations and menaces were hurled from right to left, from left to right. Robespierre came forward to represent the entire public life of the Girondists as forming a long series of crimes directed against liberty and the republic, and concluded with a formal proposal to send Brissot, Vergniaud, Gensonné and Guadet, along with Marie Antoinette and the Duke of Orleans, as Dumouriez’ accomplices, before the new criminal court (April 9).