#kill all jacobins

[anotherpapercut]

those of you who have been following me for a while may have noticed that I lose important things A LOT so as a quick update I left my favorite backpack full of very Personally Important items somewhere at the Aberdeen, MD train station last Thursday and have not heard word of its return o7

#it had the shirt i had just gotten at the gym class heroes show as well as my journal full of my thoughts + paper mementos like tickets #a custom made calculator t shirt bc im a fucking nerd a belt my partner JUST bought me my favorite (non tour) fall out boy shirt #my favorite shorts the copy of jacobin i was in the middle of reading + the stamps I stored inside #and most importantly of all: a stuffed dolphin that my sister secretly helped me buy when i was 8 that i have slept with every night since #so for anyone keepin track: i lost my cane at fob 1 my dead grandmother's ring at fob 2 and my favorite backpack full of stuff at gch #and thats just the concerts. ive lost a lot of stuff in between as well rest assured #the thing is i genuinely have no idea where tf it couldve gotten left. i dont know what happened at all #i have brain damage lol my short term memory is so fucked. its killing me not know what happened

[i-am-dulaman]

petition for that long rant on revolutions here, i really enjoyed the way you laid out your facts and explained the first rant and am not too good at reading theory myself (i am still trying tho) thanks!!

Okay okay so the problem with revolutions is they get messy. Real messy. You get counter-revolutionaries, moderates, extremists, loyalists, and everything in between. One revolution turns into 5, and even if your side wins, its almost guaranteed to have been tainted some way or another along the way.

Take the first french revolution. It started as civil unrest, the estates general initially called for reform of the french state into a constitutional monarchy similar to Britain. Even king louis XVI was in support of this. But extremists wanting a republic and counter-revolutionaries wanting absolute monarchy clashed and things became more and more chaotic and violent. Eventually the extremists won, the jacobin reign of terror ensued, and 10s of thousands of people were executed. Now don't get me wrong, i am all for executing monarchs and feudal lords, but look what happened a few years later; Napoleon used the political instability to declare himself emperor, a few more years later his empire had crumbled, and the monarchy was back with Louis XVIII.

Or take the 1979 iranian revolution. It started as protests against pahlavi, who was an authoritarian head of state and an American pawn. As the protests turned into civil resistance and guerilla warfare it took on many different forms. There were secularists vs islamic extremists. There were democrats vs theocrats vs monarchists. Etc. Through all the chaos, Khomeini seized power, held a fake referendum, and declared himself supreme leader and enforced many strict laws, particularly on women who previously had close to equal rights. Many of the millions of women involved in the revolution later said they felt bettayed by the end result.

Or the Russian Revolution. It started as protests, military strikes, and civil unrest during WW1 directed at the tsar. He stepped down in 1917 and handed power over to the Duma, the russian parliament. This new provisionary government initially had the support of soviet councils, including socialist groups like the menshiviks. But they made the major mistake of deciding to continue the war. Lenins bolsheviks were originally a very tiny group on the fringes of russian politics, but they were the loudest supporters of peace, so they gained support and organised militias into an army and thus began the russian civil war. Lenin won and followed through on his promise to end the war against germany, but its a bit ironic that they fought a civil war, that killed about 10 million people, just to end another war.

Im not saying any of these results were either bad or good. They all have nuance and its all subjective. But the point i am trying to make is that they get messy. The initial goals will always be twisted.

France wanted a constitutional monarchy, they got an autocratic emporer.

Iran wanted democracy and an end to American influence, and well they ended american influence alright but also got a totalitarian theocrat.

Russia wanted an end to world war 1 and got one of the bloodiest civil wars in history.

I cant think of a single revolution in history that achieved the goals it set out to achieve.

But again, im not saying this is necessarily a bad thing, just a warning against revolutionary rhetoric and criticisms of reformism. Sometimes revolution is the only option, when you're faced with an authoritarian government diametrically opposed to change, then a revolution may be worth the risk. But it is a risk.

But if you live in a democracy, claiming revolution is the only way is actively choosing both bloodshed and the risk of things going horribly wrong over the choice of peaceful reform.

So when i go online in some leftist spaces and see people claiming revolution in America or UK or wherever is the only way out of capitalism I cant help but feel angry.

I know our democracy is flawed, and reform is slow and can even go backwards, but we owe it to all the people who would die in a revolution to try reform first.

I know socialist reform is especially hard in our flawed democracy where capitalists own the media, but if we can't convince enough people to vote for socialist reform what hope do we have of convincing enough people to join a socialist revolution. Socialism is supposed to be for the people, but how can you claim your revolution is for the people if you can't even get the support of the people?

So what I'm trying to say is; if youre one of those leftists that are sitting around waiting for the glorious revolution, doing nothing but posting rhetoric online - at least try doing something else while you wait. Join your labour union, recruit your coworkers, get involved in your local socialist parties, call your local representatives (city council, senator, governor, member of parliament, whatever) and make your opinions known, push them further left, and keep pushing.

#thank you anon this waa fun #also when i say i cant think of any revolution in history that achieved its goals #im not counting wars of independence #i know americans call the american war of independence the revolutionary war but its not a revolution l #(for reference - the first rant that anon mentions is a reblog a couple days ago about the communist manifesto)

[communistkenobi]

Hiiiiiiii Nick, so sorry if you've already answered this somewhere, but I couldn't find it. I was wondering if you have any recs for leftist literature that's somewhat digestible for people who don't usually read a lot of academic papers/journals and the like? Basically, theory for beginners, I guess. I've been wanting to start reading more theory and while everything you posted about The Authoritarian Personality was super interesting, I think that trying to read a 1000 page book right now would kill me 💀

(also definitely don't feel the need to answer, I just thought you might appreciate getting an ask that's not star wars related asjdjdjshdjdhsjdjfj)

oh god yeah do not start with authoritarian personality that thing is insane

There is a Marxism archive that has a page for beginners here (ignore the advice to read Capital. Like try if you want to but it’s not accessible at all in my experience lol, so I would not start there). That website gives you free access to a lot of theory, you can poke around there and see what you might want to read (if you scroll to the bottom of the page I linked it has a link where you can search by subject - so if you want to learn more about leftist feminism, or colonialism, or etc, you can do so). I’m not the most well read marxist unfortunately so I can’t give you detailed recommendations from the lists they give. I have read a bit of Lenin and found him to be quite funny. Also sorry this is skewing communist, I have only read a few bits of anarchist literature and wasn’t impressed with it (not a dig at anarchism in general, I just did not have a good introduction to it and because of my schooling I tend to spend most of my time with more critical/marxist lit). So don’t let that sway you, this is just my own bias and theoretical instincts.

Why Marx Was Right by Terry Eagleton (this is a book, sorry I don’t have a link) is fairly accessible, as is Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher (this is very short, like under a hundred pages).

Also I KNOW I keep bringing this up but Discourse on Colonialism is such a fantastic essay (you can skip past the introduction in this pdf if you like and go straight to the essay). You don’t need to know all the theorists Cesaire is talking about or get all of his references. I think this is a very good introduction to colonialism as a force in the world. Cesaire is a fantastic writer, extremely witty and scathing while being incredibly insightful, truly a level of hater we should all aspire to become

There’s also the communist manifesto, which is very short and easy to read. You don’t have to pay too much attention to the historical stuff they bring up imo. This just answers the basic question of like “so what do communists believe exactly?” Even if you’re not a communist I think it’s useful to see these beliefs articulated in plain language.

If you want a book to read, there is Black Jacobins by CLR James about the Haitian Revolution (~200 pages). This is a history book written from a leftist perspective. I find reading about history very instructive because it alerts you to a lot of the problems with mass organising, all the sticky ways that class conflict manifests at all levels of society, and gives you context to a lot of leftist thought that, when detached from its historical circumstances, may seem weird or abstract.

I hope this helps!

#asks #book club #I’ve gotten a few asks in a similar vein so I am just consolidating all that here #thank uuuu kyra also if you want a specific pdf but cannot get it I can probably get it for you #so just lmk

[redshift-13]

The dominant political discourse that has arisen since the tragedy of October 7 is extremely worrisome. Ethical relativism, selective outrage, framing only one’s own civilian population as worthy of protection and security — this is part of the problem, a huge, ineludible, outrageous problem of inequality that, if unaddressed, condemns Israel and Palestine to reenact the same bloody cycle. Every one or two years, the violence explodes, and large-scale bombardments systematically kill civilians. Too many innocent lives have already been lost. It is exactly the unlawful and unsustainable status quo that has led to this bloody failure. The status quo is not only brutalizing Palestinians beyond imagination and forcing them to survive for generations in intolerable desperation; it is also increasingly jeopardizing and failing to protect Israeli civilians, despite promises to the contrary. Many individuals and groups in Israel insist that subjugating Palestinians is necessary for their security. This is legally and morally unacceptable. It is also myopically wrong. Keeping Palestinians under occupation and assuming the situation can be resolved militarily has been revealed to be false once again. Security for all is only achievable by realizing equal rights, ending the occupation, and removing institutionalized discrimination. Assuming that only one people deserves dignity, safety, and freedom is not only racist; it is politically and strategically unwise, and a guarantee of more tragedies.

#francesca albanese #israel #palestine #jacobin

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Élisabeth Lebas talking about Robespierre like he’s the Messiah or something compilation

[Edgar Degas] told me that, when he was a child, his mother one day took him to rue de Tournon to visit Madame Lebas, widow of the famous Convention deputy who, on 9 thermidor, killed himself with a pistol. When the visit was over, they withdrew with small steps, accompanied to the door by the old lady, when Madame Degas suddenly stopped, deeply overwhelmed. Letting go of her son's hand, she pointed at the portraits of Robespierre, of Couthon, of Saint-Just, that she had just noticed were hanging on the walls of the antechambre, and she couldn’t keep herself from crying out with horror: ”What! You still keep the faces of these monsters here!”  ”Be quiet, Célestine!” Madame Lebas cried out ardently, ”be quiet… They were saints!” Discours de l’Histoire prononcé à la distribution solennelle des prix du Lycée Jeanson-de-Sailly held by Paul Valéry on July 13 1932, cited in Robespierre ou les contradictions du jacobinisme (1978) by Albert Soboul.

I was able to converse, between 1838 and 1839, with a famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas, the wife of the famous Convention deputy who chose to die with Robespierre, and the mother of M. Lebas, Hellenist scholar, who died a few years ago. Mme widow Lebas, a very respectable woman, whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre, adding these words: Saint Maximilien. As for her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was — and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is — a sans-culotte parrot, the like of which can no longer be found. Mme Lebas recounted with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus  after Thermidor.  It had been seriously compromised.  After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection,  every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning,  grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory.  L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259.

Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with [him and Lebas], along with my sister-in-law Henriette. Élisabeth’s memoirs, cited in Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901), by Stéfane-Pol, page 131.

…If you had been informed of my residence, I would have been eager to tell you the truth. The good that you say of our martyrs is not too charged: they were the true friends of liberty; they lived only for the people, for their fatherland; but some monsters, in one day, destroyed everything; in one day they assassinated liberty. Yes, monsieur, a republican like you would have been happy to know those men, so virtuous on all accounts; they all died poor. Note written by Élisabeth a few years before her death regarding ”a work treating the revolution” (l’Histoire des Girondins?). Cited in Ibid, page 147.

#élisabeth lebas #élisabeth duplay #robespierre #maximilien robespierre #frev #frev compilation #originally i was just planning to compile all the times babet says he’s virtue boy number 1 #then i was like ”…you can actually make a decent compilation only of times she uses religious adjectives to describe him??”

[robespapier]

Based on this post

#halloween #frev halloween costumes

[racefortheironthrone]

You talked in an earlier post* about economists' attitudes about mercantilism. Where do the physiocrats fit into this? What were they trying to do, what do current economists think of them, and how accurate is their assessment?

*https://www.tumblr.com/racefortheironthrone/741771031361077248/why-do-economists-need-to-shut-up-about

First of all, thank you for including the link! It really helps.

Ok, so let's talk about the physiocrats. This was a pre-Smithian school of economists from France in the 18th century, and they are somewhat complicated to assess because their ideas are a strange mix of surprisingly accurate and completely batshit:

unlike the mercantilists, who they really didn't get along with, the physiocrats thought that growth and especially the circulation of wealth (as opposed to achieving a positive balance of trade and deepening capital pools as the means of driving development) was the most important goal of economic policy.

unlike the mercantilists and the classical economists, the physiocrats believed in the labor theory of value...but only for agricultural labor. The reason they called themselves "physiocrats" is that they believed all wealth came from nature, and that all industrial and commercial and other forms of labor were "unproductive appendages" that existed parasitically off of agricultural labor. This is particularly insane, given that they were writing on the very eve of the Industrial Revolution but well after the Commercial Revolution, so they were well aware that European countries had been making increasingly large amounts of money from stuff that wasn't agriculture. This, they felt, was cheating.

in terms of policy prescriptions, the physiocrats' main agenda items were free trade in grain - they firmly believed that any form of government intervention (say, during a famine to prevent starvation and bread riots) was inherently counterproductive and an unwarranted inference in the natural right of producers to maximize profits, which would eventually lead to higher production and lower prices - and a flat tax on property.

This school of thought was initially quite influential duiring the early stages of the French Revolution, but broke down almost immediately when there was a bad harvest and food prices shot up through the roof, because when large numbers of starving people who have just gone through a revolution and now have weapons and believe they have a right to use them to defend their lives and their freedom see the rational self-interest of grain merchants jacking up the price of their daily staple by 400%, they respond by killing them and putting their heads on pikes and taking the food by force. In that scenario, any government is going to react through intervention if only out of their own rational self-interest. Hell even the ancien régime knew enough to do that, and now the government is run by a bunch of Jacobins.

I would describe their reputation among contemporary economists as one of outwardly-polite condescension of the "well, bless your heart" school of southern gentility. They did hit on some ideas that later economists would run with, but at the end of the day they aren't Big Daddy Adam Smith so they are a mere footnote. But then again, contemporary economists are surprisingly ignorant about the history of economic thought, so it's to be expected.

#political economy #physiocrats #french revolution #mercantilism #history of economic thought #economics #advocating free trade in grain during a famine is a really bad idea

[quicktimeeventfull]

also while i'm doing hot takes today i think light is actually correct about this. i think he's incorrect about the universality of this opinion and also about the entire concept of consensus creating morality, but i do feel that 'evil people should be killed' is an incredibly common line of thinking on all sides of the political spectrum. often you have to dress it up a little bit with praxis and delicate words, but it's not at all a niche opinion.

i am once again quoting from against the logic of the guillotine

For this is what distinguishes the fantasy of the guillotine: it is all about efficiency and distance. Those who fetishize the guillotine don’t want to kill people with their bare hands; they aren’t prepared to rend anyone’s flesh with their teeth. They want their revenge automated and carried out for them. They are like the consumers who blithely eat Chicken McNuggets but could never personally butcher a cow or cut down a rainforest. They prefer for bloodshed to take place in an orderly manner, with all the paperwork filled out properly, according to the example set by the Jacobins and the Bolsheviks in imitation of the impersonal functioning of the capitalist state. And one more thing: they don’t want to have to take responsibility for it. They prefer to express their fantasy ironically, retaining plausible deniability. Yet anyone who has ever participated actively in social upheaval knows how narrow the line can be between fantasy and reality. 

[galionne-speeding]

What're the eight gods like in your Sonic Pantheon AU?

Aah thank you so much for asking! I wasn't sure how/when to drop all the character info ; but now I've got the perfect excuse! To make it more digestible to read (and easier on myself) I'll copy/paste my character doc! (with some slight adjustments)

- - -

Name: Boreas (Also known as "The Cursed Winter", "Lord of Ice") Age: 25 Gender: Male (He/They) Species: Megaloceros Emerald: White

Several millennia ago, the last known megaloceros tribe was wiped out by its neighbors who greatly feared its people's ability to control ice and the cold. The sole survivor of the massacre, Boreas, was able to flee and it is believed he found a Chaos Emerald during his escape. Imbued with new power, he would soon return to avenge his people and slaughter those who had taken their lives ; until a small group of warriors was able to seal him deep inside an underground ice lake.

-

Name: Piia (Also known as "The Trickster", "Devil's Child", "The Moon-Kissed Spirit") Age: 8 Gender: Non-Binary (They/Them) Species: Pygmy Rabbit (Albino) Emerald: Light Blue

Piia was only a child when their village was hit by a disastrous harvest ; and they were offered as a sacrifice to the mountain their people worshiped. They were thrown into a deep crevasse and were killed on impact. However, their body had landed next to a Chaos Emerald which seemingly fed so much energy into it, Piia was brought back to life and granted an array of supernatural abilities. The young rabbit would go on to terrorize their old village, until they were tricked by another child into sealing themselves into a small mirror.

-

Name: Zeutaros (Also known as "The Storm", "The Great Dragon", "The Beast") Age: 201 (Early 40s by Zeti standards) Gender: Male (He/Him) Species: Ancient Zeti Emerald: Red

A Zeti Warlord of terrifying renown, it is believed Zeutaros fell to Mobius from the Lost Hex in ancient times. He seemingly found a Chaos Emerald near his landing site which charged him with immeasurable power and soon began ravaging the land in an enraged frenzy. The carnage would only end when Zeutaros accidentally broke the roof of a large underground cave system, where he fell and was buried by the rubble.

-

Name: Mother Agnes (Also known as "The Sunset Witch") Age: 62 Gender: Female (She/Her) Species: Luna Moth Emerald: Yellow

Little is known about Mother Agnes’ past ; only that she suffered greatly in her youth. In her early 60s she opened a boarding school for lost and troubled children which saw great success ; until all of the children put under her care began to vanish. It was soon discovered that she was in possession of a Chaos Emerald, which she was using to put the children into a comatose sleep in order to feed on their dreams. Her school was promptly swarmed by villagers and Agnes was captured and burned at the stake, at which point all of the children woke up. Her medallion is currently displayed in Sunset City’s history museum.

-

Name: Désiré (Also known as "Prince Raj", "The Adored One") Age: 17 Gender: Agender (They/Them) Species: Jacobin Pigeon Emerald: Purple

Born into wealth and nobility, Prince Raj was raised from the youngest age to be the next ruler of the kingdom and believed to have everything one could ever wish for. Yet many ; servants and nobles alike ; had noted how disheartend and dejected the prince always appeared both in public and in private. When the future sovereign turned 17 they were gifted a large purple gem which they took a particular interest in. Not long after this, communication from the kingdom to its neighbors slowly dwindled until it fell completely silent. It was soon discovered that the large purple gem gifted to Prince Raj was in fact a Chaos Emerald ; which they were using to warp the minds of the entire kingdom, so that all alike would see their lives now revolving around their new ruler as they worshipped and adored Raj day in and day out. The spell was only broken when an assassin was sent to enter the palace and successfully killed the prince.

-

Name: Malda (Also known as "The Hermit", "The Pestilence Witch") Age: 51 Gender: Female (She/Her) Species: African Common Toad Emerald: Green

Malda used to be a peaceful and solitary hermit living deep in the forest, making herbal remedies for those daring enough to visit her hut. When a villager went missing after visiting her however, she was quickly accused of causing his disappearance- as well as all others in the area. While historians now believe she was innocent, villagers at the time condemned her to death by drowning in the nearby lake. Not long following her death, the region was hit with several devastating epidemics ; which were only quelled once the lake was drained and The Pestilence Witch’s skeleton placed in an airtight coffin. A Chaos Emerald was found near her remains during the draining process.

-

Name: Manas (Also know as "Royal Seer Manas", "The Devil's Tongue") Age: 57 Gender: Male (He/Him) Species: Manul Emerald: Dark Blue

From a young age, Manas had always displayed the uncanny ability to learn everything from an individual, just by shaking their hand or touching their clothes. As this ability was sharpened over the following years, Manas began to slowly amass followers who were bewildered by his visions and predictions of the future. Little did they know, Manas was granted these abilities by a Chaos Emerald he was keeping safely hidden. As more and more people joined the ranks of his followers, the manul declared himself emperor and set his people on a path to conquer new land ; aided by his visions and knowledge. It is believed this conquest lasted for several decades and saw hundreds of war victories for the manul- until it all fell apart. One of Manas' visions turned out to be inaccurate, leading to a crushing defeat and the loss of nearly three quarters of his army. Disillusioned and under the assumption their ruler had knowingly sent them to their deaths, it is believed the survivors tracked down Manas and brutally murdered him for his failures.

-

Name: ∅ / Null Gender: ▇▇▇▇ (It/Its) Species: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ Emerald: ▇▇▇▇

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#ask #welcome-to-hotel-california #sonic pantheon au #sonic au #sonic the hedgehog au #sth au #sonic oc #sth oc #sonic the hedgehog oc

[kaelio]

I'm sorry to hear you are dealing with undeserving hate for Garashir. You works are great, and you are a good presence in the fandom, we would collectively lose something valuable if you left. This is not meant to pressure you, but just to share love from a mostly silent reader who perhaps should have commented more often, but who really enjoys your work.

It's not directed at me personally, it's like the entire vibe of the fandom. It feels utterly ridiculous to me that there's this tone of being lectured from people with an honestly pretty thin grasp of canon (sometimes deliberately thin!) but a pretty deep commitment to Calvinism. It's also not just in the DS9 space; going to AR novels is a bit of a retreat overall. But man! Sometimes it feels like being at a school board meeting and the fandom warriors are PTA moms trying to ban "Everybody Poops". It reminds me of how every once in a while I'll get an anon chiding me about linking news from The Bulwark or The Wall Street Journal. Look, there's no point to linking stuff from Fox News or OANN because it's genuinely just made up by freaks. But I can read The Atlantic and Jacobin and The Washington Post and The Bulwark and The Wall Street Journal and keep my head on my shoulders because encountering bad ideas or information from people who interpret those ideas differently isn't a threat to well-considered good ideas! But what is a threat to good ideas is having them rely entirely on being unconsidered. Someday you will, despite your best efforts, encounter ideas you don't agree with, and you have to be able to articulate why Ted Kaczynski was wrong (killing people) and wrong (manifesto is stupid). But a lot of people on this website don't realize they're posting stuff that could have been yanked directly from the Unibomber because they don't have a clue what he wrote! Frightening sentiment surrounding eugenics, antisemitism, anti-miscegenation are all on the rise in part because people have been so good at blocking the obvious stuff out that they can't recognize the insidious stuff! Being able to consume things and be sincerely critical of them is necessary and I promise, good views of cooperation, anti-racism, justice, and empathy come out stronger because they are very sincerely right.

[sieclesetcieux]

Book Recommendations on the French Revolution (the "short" list version)

(For some reason, the original anonymous ask and answer I thought I had saved in my drafts has disappeared? Did I accidentally delete it? Who knows with Tumblr. Anyway, good thing I screenshotted it, I guess.)

Since I am STILL working on my extremely long post series going in depth into recommendations, I guess I should really just answer this ask and give a plain and simple list, as it was requested -_- (Don't worry, the extremely long post series is still going to happen.)

First of all, let’s just say, again (and it really must be insisted on), that most Anglophone historiography is… not very good. There are exceptions, but not many. At least, not enough to satisfy me. Fortunately, some good French books have been translated to English – so that’s great news!

So here are my main recommendations:

Sophie Wahnich’s La liberté ou la mort. Essai sur la Terreur et le terrorisme (2003) which was translated to In Defence of the Terror: Liberty Or Death in the French Revolution with a foreword by Slavoj Zizek in 2012.

This essay basically changed my life, and led me to take the path I have walked since as a historian. Zizek’s foreword is very good in summarizing the ideological oppositions to the French Revolution (until he rambles the way he usually does).

It opens with a quote from Résistant poet René Char which perfectly sets the tone:

“I want never to forget how I was forced to become – for how long? – a monster of justice and intolerance, a narrow-minded simplifier, an arctic character uninterested in anyone who was not in league with him to kill the dogs of hell.”

Keep in mind that when I first read it, in 2003, the very notion of anything like the Charlottesville rally happening was still in the realm of pure fantasy.

Marie-Hélène Huet’s Mourning Glory: The Will of the French Revolution (1997). One of the rare books in my list that was originally written in English (!). I think a lot of it might be available to read via Google Books, but it’s worth buying.

This book is hard to categorize: it talks of historiography and ideology, and it’s overall a fascinating book.

It feels a lot like Sophie Wahnich’s first essay – it was also similarly influential on my research. It inspired a lot of my M.A. thesis. I’ve recently found my book version of it, and this book was annotated like I’ve rarely annotated a book. It was quite impressive.

Dominique Godineau’s Citoyennes Tricoteuses: Les femmes du peuple à Paris pendant la Révolution française (1988) which was translated to The Women of Paris and Their French Revolution (1998).

It’s the best book on women’s history during the French Revolution IMO. I really don’t have much more to say about it: it’s excellent. It talks of working class women, it talks of the conflicts between different women groups, it talks of what happened after Thermidor and the Prairial insurrections, and the women who were arrested. No book has compared to it yet.

Jean-Pierre Gross’s Fair Shares for All: Jacobin Egalitarianism in Practice (1997). You can download it for free via The Charnel House (link opens as pdf).

Another rare book that was originally written in English, and later translated to French, though the author is French! (I think some French authors have picked up that the real battlefield is in Anglophonia…) It’s very important to understand social rights, a founding legacy of the French Revolution.

François Gendron’s essential book on the Thermidorian Reaction: first published in Québec as La jeunesse dorée. Episodes de la Révolution française (1979)  (The Gilded Youth. Episodes of the French Revolution). It was then published in France as La jeunesse sous Thermidor (The Youth During Thermidor). As I explained here, its publication history is quite controversial (though it seems no one noticed?). It was thankfully translated to English as The Gilded Youth of Thermidor (1993). However, the English translation follows Pierre Chaunu’s version – which didn’t alter the content per se, but removed the footnotes and has a terribly reactionary foreword – so be careful with that. If anything, that’s a very good example of all the problems in historiography and translations.

Much like Godineau’s book on women, no book can compare. In the case of women’s history during the French Revolution, it’s because most of it is abysmally terrible; in the case of the Thermidorian reaction, it’s because no one talks about it. And it’s not surprising once you start reading about it.

(You might notice that Gendron’s translated book, much like many others, are prohibitively expensive. I do own some of these so if you ever want to read any, send me a message and we’ll work it out!)

Antoine de Baecque’s The Body Politic. Corporeal Metaphor in Revolutionary France, 1770-1800 (1997), which is a translation of Le Corps de l’histoire : Métaphores et politique (1770-1800) (1993). (Here’s the table of contents.) It’s a peculiar book belonging to a peculiar field, and it can be a bit complicated/advanced in the same way most of Sophie Wahnich’s books are, but I still recommend them. See also: La gloire et l’effroi, Sept morts sous la Terreur (1997) and Les éclats du rire : la culture des rieurs aux 18e siècle (2000), but I don’t think either have been translated. Le Corps de l’histoire and La gloire et l’effroi also are nice complements to Marie-Hélène Huet’s book.

If you can read French, I really recommend the five essays reunited in Pour quoi faire la Révolution ? (2012), especially Guillaume Mazeau’s on the Terror (La Terreur, laboratoire de la modernité) – which I might try to eventually translate or at least summarize in English coz it’s really worth it.

The following books are extremely important to understand the historiographical feud and the controversies that surrounded the Bicentennial of the French Revolution in 1989 (and both have been translated to French so that’s cool too):

First, Steven L. Kaplan’s two volumes called Farewell, Revolution: Disputed Legacies (1995) and The Historians’ Feud (1996).

Then, Eric Hobsbawm’s Echoes of the Marseillaise: Two Centuries Look Back on the French Revolution (1990) which gives you the Marxist perspective on the debate. If you want to look for the non-Marxist perspective: look at literally any other book written on the French Revolution and its historiography (I’m not kidding). For example, you can read the introduction by Gwynne Lewis (1999 book edition; 2012 online edition) to Alfred Cobban’s The Social Interpretation of the French Revolution (1964), the founding “revisionist” book.

Again, if you can read French, I recommend Michel Vovelle’s Combats pour la Révolution française (1993) and 1789: L’héritage et la mémoire (2007). I have not read La bataille du Bicentenaire de la Révolution française (2017) but it might recycle parts of the previous two books, so I’d look that up first.

Marxist historiography is near inexistant in Anglophonia, because of reasons best explained in this short historiographical recap on Anglophone historiography and specifically Alfred Cobban (link opens as pdf), but there was Eric Hobsbawm, who wrote a series of very important books on “The Ages of…”:

The Age of Revolution: 1789-1848

The Age of Capital: 1848-1875

The Age of Empire: 1875-1914

The Age of Extremes: 1914-1991

Some of Albert Soboul’s works have been translated as well:

A Short History of the French Revolution, 1789-1799 (1977)

The Sans-Culottes: The Popular Movement and Revolutionary Government, 1793-1794 (1981)

Understanding the French Revolution (1988), which is a collection of various essays translated to English (here’s the table of contents)

While we’re on the subject of classics: I do need to re-read R. R. Palmer’s The Twelve Who Ruled (1941) to see if I still like it, but I believe it’s still positively received? I’ve never actually read C. L. R. James’ The Black Jacobins. Toussaint Louverture and the San Domingo Revolution (1963) but I’m going to rectify that this summer.

That’s a good way to segue into a final part.

Here is a list of books I technically have not read yet (I skimmed through them), but would still recommend because I trust the authors:

Michel Biard and Marisa Linton’s The French Revolution and Its Demons (2021) which was originally published in French as Terreur ! La Révolution française face à ses demons (2020). It looks like an excellent summary of all the controversies surrounding the Terror: Robespierre’s black legend, how the Terror was “invented”, the conflicts between different political factions and clubs, the Vendée, and stats on who actually died by the guillotine (no, there was no “noble purge”). (Here’s the table of contents.)

Peter McPhee wrote several good syntheses, the most recent being Liberty or Death: The French Revolution (2017). Others he wrote: Living the French Revolution, 1789-99 (2006) and A Social History of France, 1789-1914 (1992, reedited in 2004). Why 1914? The 19th century was defined by Hobsbawm (see above) as “the long 19th century” (by contrast with “the short 20th century”), or “the cultural and political 19th century”, which is regarded as lasting from the fall of Napoléon Bonaparte to the First World war.

Eric Hazan’s A People’s History of the French Revolution (2014) and A History of the Barricade (2015), which are translations (Une histoire de la Révolution française, 2012, and La barricade: Histoire d’un objet révolutionnaire, 2013). If you can read French, check out his essay published by La Fabrique: La dynamique de la révolte. Sur des insurrections passes et d’autres à venir (2015).

Just as a final note: this post is the equivalent of four half single-spaced pages in Times New Roman 12 pts. It also took two hours to write and format (and make the side-posts with table of contents) even though most of it is already written in several drafts – i.e. the long post series of in-depth recommendations, so that gives you an idea of why that other series of posts is taking so long to write.

I’m going to go lie down now. -_-

ETA: Corrected some typos and a link that didn't quite go to the right place.

#historiography #frev historiography #sophie wahnich #marie helène huet #antoine de baecque #michel vovelle #michel biard #marisa linton #eric hazan #peter mcphee #c. l. r. james #r. r. palmer #albert soboul #eric hobsbawm #françois gendron #francois gendron #dominique godineau #steven l. kaplan #jean pierre gross #alfred cobban #slavoj žižek #slavoj zizek #this post almost killed me

[quotesfromall]

The advantages of being white were so obvious that race prejudice against the Negroes persisted in the minds of the Mulattoes who so bitterly resented the same thing from the whites. Black slaves and Mulattoes hates each other. Even while in words and, by their success in life, in many of their actions, Mulattoes demonstrated the falseness of the white claim to inherent superiority, yet the man of colour who was nearly white despised the man of colour who was only half-white, who in turn despised the man of colour who was only quarter-white, and so on through all the shades. The free blacks, comparatively speaking, were not many, and so despised the black skin that even a Mulatto slave felt himself superior to the free black man. The Mulatto, rather than be slave to a black, would have killed himself. It all reads like a cross between a nightmare and a bad joke. But these distinctions still exercise their influence in the West-Indies to-day.

C.L.R. James, The Black Jacobins

#black lives matter #racism #colorism #biracial #clr james #c.l.r.james #the black jacobins #james #1963 #clr james 1963

[nigrit]

Maximilian Robespierre, Deputy. ‘Incorruptible’. Mountain’s Highly Confidential WhatsApp Group

Wow. What a week, guys! Did you see my speech on virtue and terror the other day. Four pages in the Moniteur, three in the Revolutions de Paris and a special pullout in the Jacobin Club bulletin with a questionnaire ‘how virtuous are you?’ and a special souvenir print. By David. Of me!

Danton: No one reads the JCC anymore since the nutters took over

Camille: I keep a pile by the privy. Looroll’s so expensive these days!

Shade of Jean-Paul: You stole all my best lines. Even your nickname is mine

All: WTF! How did you get on here?

Shade: I am everywhere. I am the eye of the people!

Bertrand: Quick, everyone. Block him! Now!

Shade: you seem to forget, I am the moderator. And I have the password

Bertrand: Moderate! You! Moderate? Ha!

Shade: and you call yourself a writer?! Fucking windvane!

Max: damn! Just ignore him guys. Now as I was saying….

Louis-Antoine: but he can still be useful. You know, the people kind of worship him now

Max: but I want them to worship me! Why won’t they worship me?

All: sniggering

Camille: because you’re not dead?

George: because you’re killing them?

Max: that’s not fair

Camille: would you prefer it in Latin?

Max: et tu Camillus?

Bertrand: (clears throat) c’mon public safety people, we’re getting off the point. So Max, I got your speech translated into English. Found an excellent expat with impeccable credentials, Ms Helen Maria Williams. We’re going to print it up on English type and smuggle it over the Channel to freak them all out and show what a nice guy you really are.

Max: merci BB

Shade: (interrupting) I denounce…

All: blocked!

Shade: … you can all take your worthless block and shove it up your collective arse. I denounce Barere and Ms Williams

Camille: For god’s sake Jean-Paul, get a grip

George: I do not know this individual

Max: me either

Bertrand: is that even proper grammar?

Max: it is now!

George: right, I’m bored. Got to see a man about a property

Camille: can I come?

George: no, no, and always, no! And yes my friends, I shall in future be terrorising my new wife by asking her, ‘are you feeling virtuous tonight?’ You should try it Max, might loosen you up a bit

Camille: he should be so lucky! I feel a song coming on. Red, the sound of ages past, blue the colour of my hair, white the…

All: no!

TBC

#Jean-Paul Marat #Maximilien Robespierre #Bertrand Barere #Camille Desmoulins #Georges Danton #Louis-Antoine Saint-Just #whatsapp satire #French Revolution #Max just needed a big slap #and a hug from time to time #The Mountain #Committee of Public Safety #Jacobin japes

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

bleeding violets

TW: blood, death, death by cancer

AN: ok hear me out. scrooge 1951 but........................................lesbioans

Death was in Marley’s house. Scrooge could feel it. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones. She could feel it hanging in the air, taut like gossamer, strung tight like a spider’s web. Any movement and the fragile thread would snap, and yield onto Death her prize. Oh Death, she had been clever. She had snuck in through the cracks. She’d lain in wait for god knows how long. But there was no need to hide anymore.

She had won.

The undertaker stood at the top of the stairs, smugly serene amid the wake of Death. Mrs. Dilber was less assured at his side. She eyed Scrooge with a nervous glance, like a fish watching a shark.

“You don’t wait for the grass to grow under your feet.” There was enough venom in Scrooge’s voice to kill Cleopatra.

“Ours is a highly competitive profession, Madame.” He replied serenely.

“ls she dead yet?”

“l'll have another look, if you'd like?” Mrs. Dilber offered, evidently eager to get away from both Scrooge and the undertaker.

“No, don't bother.” Scrooge but. “l'll see for myself. Goodnight, Sir.”

Marley lay there, just where Scrooge had left her.

Her pallor was profound. She looked more marble than flesh as Scrooge approached. She looked as if she’d been pulled out of the ground in Greece, and lain out flat for all to see. She was certainly still enough to be a statue. Her chest rose and fell weakly, but nothing else moved within her body. The reeking scent of blood lingered in the air.

Blood. It had all begun with blood. Her courses had stopped years before with the tide of old age, but had begun again suddenly six months before. She’d seen a doctor. Female hysteria, he’d told her. Who knew how the womanly body worked?

By the time they’d found the cancer, it was too late.

Marley’s breath hitched as Scrooge approached, and for a moment she did not breath again. When it did come, it came as a gasp. Scrooge drew closer, and told herself that the shaking of her hands was from the cold.

Marley’s eyelids fluttered. Her eyes looked up at the canopy of her bed, and then shifted to Scrooge. There was recognition.

Scrooge’s voice was low, and far more gentle than most thought it could be. “Oh, oh Jacobine.”

Marley stared at her. The shadows under her eyes were dark enough to be violet against the white of her skin. Sappho’s violets against a dying statue.

“Well have they...have they seen to you properly?” Did they take care of you, was what she meant. “Last rights and all that, hmm?”

Marley’s head moved ever so slightly to nod. Marley had never been a creature inclined to be quiet. To be reduced to weak pantomime went against everything Scrooge knew of her.

“There's uh... there's nothing l can do, hmm?”

Again, she nodded. 

“Oh? What ... particularly?” Scrooge asked.

Marley inhaled sharply, trying desperately to get air into her lungs. “While…” she breathed in the ghost of her voice.

“Huh??” Scrooge said, leaning closer. Tell me, my friend. Tell me.

“...there's still time…” Marley panted. With a groan she jerked, the agonies of her disease still tormenting her, even so close to death. What Scrooge wouldn’t give to ease her pain, just long enough for her to die.”

“Time? …Time for what?”

“We...We were wrong.”

Scrooge had heard many a noise of pain from Marley since her dying began. And none of them were as agonized as the words she spoke.

“Huh?” Scrooge said, at a loss for words. But Marley’s eyes, bright with agony, looked right at her

“Wrong.”

“Wrong? Oh…” Scrooge began, taking one of Marley’s cold hands into her own. “Well we - we can't be right all the time. Nobody's perfect. We've been no worse than the next man. Or better, if it comes to that. You mustn't reproach yourself, Jacobine.”

Marley shook her head. “We are wrong.”

“What?”

She squeezed Scrooge’s hand oh so terribly tightly.

“Save ... yourself.” She breathed.

“What? Save myself?” Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Save myself from what? Hmm? Speak up…!” Scrooge said.

And in that cold, horrid room that reeked of violets and blood, Jacobine Marley’s hand went slack.

She’d only just put the hand aside when the undertaker entered. It would never do to be seen that way.

“ls she dead?” Mrs. Dilber asked.

“Yes.” Scrooge heard herself reply.

Mrs. Dilber whistled. “Just like you said.”

“I always know.” The undertaker said proudly, handkerchief in hand to silence the jaw of the only woman Ebba Scrooge had ever loved, all the while with a smile on his face.

#Scrooge 1951 #ebenezer scrooge #Jacob Marley #scrooge x marley #a christmas carol

[edupunkn00b]

French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution, Ch. 19: Save Him

Colorized version of Fighting at the Hotel de Ville, 28th July 1830 by Jean Victor Schnetz. (embedded image description)

Prev - Save Him - Last - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] Rated T - WC: 3476 - CW: major character death

spoilers for the previous chapter below the cut

Patton wanted to shake Logan awake, convince him to lift his head, open his eyes again, just say something. Maybe all he needed was a moment of rest or some water or…. Or Patton could curl around Logan and simply stay there holding him. Let the fighting go on around them, this pointless battle where no-one was right and both were wrong, both had killed, both had hurt.

But he had a promise to keep. "You knew I'd need a mission, didn't you?" he whispered, voice cracking.

He laid Logan down with his hands folded over his waistcoat, Patton knelt next to him for as long as he dared. He ignored Remus’ pacing, ignored the distant rattle of boots running down the halls. Ignored the even more distant pops and bangs of gunfire. His hands were covered in Logan’s blood, so he cleaned them the best he could with his apron, then pulled it off and draped it over Logan’s face and torso.

Bending over him, he pressed a kiss against his forehead through the heavy cotton cloth. Then Patton pushed up to his feet, and dried his face with his sleeves. he nodded at Remus, “Let’s go find your brother.”

They moved quickly through the wide parts of the tunnels, almost sprinting down the dark stone corridors. When the tunnels narrowed, though, with thinner walls running parallel to primary halls around the palace, they slowed, quieting their footsteps. Neither spoke. Likely neither had the strength for it. Patton certainly didn’t.

As they drew nearer to the exit, footsteps—footsteps that didn’t belong to either of them—echoed against the stone walls. Patton tugged at Remus’ sleeve and looked for a place to hide. Perhaps they could double back and find a room they hadn't already tried? But Remus stood still, listening. Patton’s heart beat hard enough he was certain whoever was coming would hear it even if they had managed to keep their steps silent.

Remus held up one hand, stilling Patton, then whispered, “Roman?”

“Oh, thank God,” Roman’s voice sighed in the darkness and the footsteps hurried closer until the younger prince emerged from the shadows and flung himself into his brother’s arms. “You’re alive!” He looked more closely at each of them and his voice warbled. “But where’s Janus and—and your friend?” he asked Patton. All at once he seemed to notice Logan's blood on his clothes and pulled him closer, feeling for a wound. "Mon héros, you're hurt!"

Patton shook his head, blinking against the sudden rush of tears. Now was not the time. Remus gripped his brother's shoulder, and Patton wasn't sure how much was to give comfort and how much was to take it. “Janus is… negotiating with the rebels.”

“Jacobins,” Patton muttered. “Violent ones.”

“We must leave the palace.” Remus squared his shoulders and smoothed down his sash with one hand. The lantern he held with the other shook and swayed, but his gaze was steady. “And then we’ll find Janus once the guards take back control.”

Prince Roman caught Patton's eyes. They both understood how hopeless that would be. The palace guards were outnumbered, out-gunned. Out-passioned. The people were fighting for their lives. The guards were fighting for their salaries.

Remus had to know it, too. But like Patton's promise to Logan, sometimes you needed the lie to keep going.

“The exit closest to the stables is blocked.” Roman pointed at another juncture in the tunnels.

“Can you get us to the kitchens?” Patton asked them both.

Roman nodded, but Remus frowned. “Of course, but—” 

“There’s a door at the far end of the larder,” Patton shrugged and followed where he pointed. “It will take us to the stables.”

Their journey took even longer than before, with frequent pauses at each sound. If they could hear the boot falls in the carpeted corridors, the guards or rebels on the other side of the wall would surely hear theirs echoing off the stone floor.

They waited, pressed flat against the door as they listened for a break in the noise outside the tunnels. After an eternity, Roman nodded and pushed open the door.

Right into a musket barrel.

“Your Highness!” the guard nearly dropped his musket in his haste to move it away from the prince. “My deepest apologies, Prince Roman. We’d had word there were insurrectionists in the walls.” Remus slipped through the doorway.

“Mon Dieu! You’re safe, Your Majesty! When the steward returned to the guest rooms and you were gone, we feared the rebels had—” The guard cleared his throat and bowed his head smartly. He looked up just in time to see Patton slipping through. “You’ve arrested one of them!”

Patton squinted against the glare of the brighter lights lining the main hallways. “No,” Roman’s voice insisted. “No, he’s not a rebel. He’s… he’s from the kitchens.”

“All the more reason to arrest him now,” the guard nodded and stepped closer to Patton. Roman moved between them.

“You will do no such thing. Stand down!” he snapped. A slamming door, followed by jeering laughter and shouts somewhere in the palace echoed down the hall. He pointed toward the ominous sounds. “There are real rebels out there you should be arresting. Patton is on our side!” 

The guard shook his head, his voice laced with pity. "He has you fooled." No, not pity. Condescension. “Everyone loyal to France and her King already left the palace. I put the last of those who couldn’t fight on a wagon to de Choisy myself. The servants who didn’t flee or pick up His Majesty's arms have joined the rebels. If he’s here, he’s one of them.” He grabbed Patton’s shoulder and shoved him against the wall. “Stay there.” Footsteps echoed toward them, faster, chaotic. Rebels. “Your Highness, Your Majesty, I’ll personally take him down to the dungeons.”

Even as Patton winced under the guard's grip, a palpable jolt of hope rattled through Remus, his face twitching into a smile. “The dungeons? That’s where the rebels are being taken?”

“They’ll get a fair trial, just as any other citizen.” Apparently the guard misattributed Remus’ smile and he pushed Patton harder against the wall. “Unless, of course, we’re out of room in the dungeons,” he half-whispered to him. “Then we’ll give you a shorter death than most.”

Cheek smashed against a tapestry, Patton didn’t quite see what happened next. There was a blur of movement and Roman roared, wordless, and angry, and maybe a little fearful. The guard shifted, then released him. Patton turned around and pulled out his dagger.

“Don’t touch my brother!” Remus shouted. Roman’s lip was split and there was blood on the guard’s knuckles as he grappled with the younger prince. Remus pulled him off of Roman, swinging wildly. A blow caught the guard across his face and he hit the wall with a wet thwack and slumped to the carpet.

“I—I—” Remus stuttered and dropped to the floor, hands hovering over the young guard. Finally, he rolled him over onto his back. Glassy dead eyes stared back at him, his temple smashed. Blood pooled on the carpet beneath him. “No, I—I didn’t mean…” The walls shook with the force of another door banging open, and the shouts were growing louder. Closer.

"Remus, we have to leave!" Roman pulled at his arm and Patton helped haul him to his feet. "They're coming!" he hissed. The crackle pop of fire and the stench of smoke filling the air jarred Remus free from his daze and he nodded silently.

All semblance of stealth abandoned, they ran toward the kitchens. The shouting was near enough now they could understand the rebel’s taunts and promises of what they would do when they found anyone hiding. “We need to slow them down,” Roman cried.

They turned a corner and flickering light spilled from the other end of the corridor. Torches. Another group of rebels was just ahead. “Wait, stop,” he yanked Remus and Patton into an alcove. “We need a plan, we won’t simply outrun them.” Bracketed by rebels, voices and stomping feet growing louder every moment, Roman dragged his hands through his hair, eyes wild. Remus' hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he peered around the corner, watching the shifting shadows at either end of the hallway.

Suddenly Roman looked at Patton and his panicked face stilled. “How much can you carry?”

The determination in Roman’s eyes froze Patton’s blood, then his eyes widened. He looked Remus up and down, then nodded at the younger brother, jaw set.

“Mon héros petit,” he whispered, then cocked his arm back and punched Remus in the face.

There was a sickening crack and he fell against Patton, unconscious. Patton hefted him up and over his shoulder. “Merde!” Roman swore, holding his fist. “I broke something. Wait!” A little awkwardly, Roman tugged off Remus’ green velvet coat and sash and stripped off his own. He buttoned Remus’ coat to his chin, concealing his own red waistcoat beneath it.

“One last time, eh, brother?” he muttered, Remus' sword in his hand and a mix of fear and resignation in his eyes.

Something snapped in Patton's chest. “Roman, no, what are you—” Patton shook his head and tried to pull Roman with them. Royalty or not, he was a good man. Enough good men had died today, for whatever the cause.

“Mon héros doux.” He gently pried Patton’s fingers off the green coat he now wore. “When all of this is over, France will need her true King.” Roman cupped Patton’s cheek and smiled down at him. “Keep him safe, cher,” he whispered quickly. “Keep him away from the palace until the mobs are gone. Then when it’s safe, return.”

“But what if they just—” ‘Kill you’ lodged itself in Patton’s throat, choking off the rest of his words.

“The King will live,” Roman answered what he couldn’t ask and—gently—shoved them both around a corner. “Longue vie au roi,” he murmured after them. “Longue vie a France!”

With one last look, Patton ran from the growing sound of the mob as fast as he could with Remus flopping against his back. The new King groaned just as they’d made it to the kitchen. “Wha—where?” Remus mumbled, shifting weakly against his shoulder. He sounded dazed and Patton hurried to the larder to get them out before Remus came to completely.

“Shh, Your Majesty, they’ll hear you.” Remus fell lax again in his grip. Good. Patton couldn’t imagine Remus willingly leaving Roman behind. The voices in the hall grew louder until they fell away at a shrill whistle.

“What do we have here?” A loud, commanding voice rang out over the mob. Colére. Dozens of voices laughed in response. Patton remained frozen, halfway down the larder stairs as he strained to listen. “Your Royal Majesty,” he cooed and the crowd cackled.

“Oh, and look at this…” The crowd laughed again. “A bit of red for the revolution, Your Majesty? Thought you could pretend to be one of us?”

Colére’s boots echoed against the walls, growing louder, then fading as he paced. Leisurely, mockingly slow, like he no longer feared the King. With dozens of armed rebels at his side, he didn't need to. “You know, Your Majesty… I have had my fill of traitors today. Isn’t that right, Lord Robespierre?” Patton’s muscles jerked, stopped from charging them all by the weight of the future king slung over his shoulder. What could he do against dozens of rebels? “The guillotine’s too quick for them. Take them both to the dungeons. They’ll hang in the morning!”

Tears filling his eyes, Patton pushed through the door. Remus heavy on his shoulder, and the dark woods in front of him, he fled east, toward Paris, and away from the setting sun.

~~~

The sky had darkened as they’d scuttled like rats through the palace’s hidden tunnels. Patton led them deep into the woods, as far northeast as he could manage.  “Just a little further, Your Majesty,” he urged. “When we’re clear of the palace, we can try the roads and use the horses."

If Patton had still believed in miracles, he would’ve prayed at his first glimpse of Naif nibbling the ferns a few dozen feet on their trek the woods. Petit wasn’t far, and she whinnied at the sight of him. Their ties had been cut, the ends frayed and sawed through with something dull, and Patton was grateful he hadn’t had the time to remove their saddles. They followed Patton until he could set Remus down and hold their leads.

Remus was on his own feet now but stopped repeatedly, staring back at the palace and wincing at every distant crash and cheer. After a while, the noise faded away, swallowed up by little creatures rustling in the leaves and the distant babble of a stream.

“Did he say why?” he finally asked, stumbling after Patton and the horses. His hands twitched, dancing up to his throbbing nose. Each time he forced them away before he undid Patton’s efforts to reset the fracture.

Patton watched the ground as they walked. It was easier than looking at Remus’ deadened eyes. “He said France needs her King.”

“Roman could be King,” he muttered. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

“He seemed to think it did. And if you go back now, then the mob will just have the both of you.” He slowed when they reached a tiny break in the trees. “We should stop here for the night.” He pointed ahead, “There’s water, and we’re far enough from the palace that we won’t attract much attention.” Patton led the horses to a patch of clover then gathered some rocks for a fire ring. Once he’d arranged them in a small circle, he knelt next to Remus.

“Give me your waistcoat,” Patton muttered. “Tights, too. You’re too conspicuous like this. You’ll be recognized.” He started to rub dirt into Remus’ pants and sleeves. Even ripped and snagged from their hike, his clothes were too fine for an everyday Parisian. Remus had ditched his shoes somewhere in the tunnels. But that was a problem for later.

“What are you doing?” His protest was weak, and he made no real move to stop Patton’s work. 

“We have to disguise you, Your Majesty.” Patton's hands moving up to fight with Remus’ waistcoat. “Or they’ll drag you to the gallows, too.” 

“Maybe they should.”

“Don’t you dare!” Patton hissed, voice thick with unshed tears as he attacked the ornate buttons. He stabbed a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare let them have died for nothing! Logan gave his life for you! Janus and your brother are going to be executed for trying to save your life! You get to live so you… damn well better make it worth something. Don’t you dare just throw it away.” The fire built from loss and fear and grief fizzled away and Patton’s hands shook as he stripped off Remus’ waistcoat. “Y-Your Majesty.”

“It’s simply ‘Remus,’ now,” he muttered and let himself be maneuvered out of his finery, like when the dressers insisted on helping him with his formal court garb. Wordlessly, Patton tore out the lining and pulled off as much of the frills as he could and used it as kindling for a small fire. Once the flames were high enough not to be smothered, he pushed the rest of waistcoat and tights into the fire.

They sat in silence and watched it burn, the edges curling in on themselves in a bath of smoke until yellow and red flames licked the fine silk and linen and consumed it. Patton gradually added twigs and dried leaves, camouflaging the ashes until it looked like any other cooking fire.

“You’re rather strong for a kitchen scullery,” Remus said after a while.

“I’m not a kitchen scullery,” he said. “I’m a member of the Jacobins, the Society of Friends.” As their fire grew, so did the fires in Versailles. Orange flames glinted between the trees, a warm, almost inviting glow. It could have been a sunset. “Well, I had been, at least.” He leaned back against a tree and continued smeared more dirt on Remus’ breeches and down his legs, improving the camouflage. “It had been my job to look out for Janus on his mission. Help him escape if you discovered his secret and—”

“And ordered him to be executed?” Remus shook his head and examined the dirt under his nails. “I never would.”

“Janus knew that,” Patton said. “Knows that.” He worked in silence a little longer, then rubbed away the excess, leaving the future King’s skin dingy and the finery of his clothes concealed. “Even Logan saw it in the end.” Patton’s voice broke, his words falling away in a whisper and he concentrated on his work.

After a few minutes, he jerked his chin toward the trees. The glow was growing brighter and sharper. “People are coming,” he whispered. “Follow my lead and don’t speak unless you have to.”

Patton smeared mud over his own face, then dragged a bit through his hair. Scrubbing at his cheeks and forehead, he cleared most of it away and settled close to Remus. At the last moment, he remembered and tugged his red scarf out from under his shirt.

The voices grew quiet, too quiet to clearly understand, something about a fire. A voice broke out, loud and confident. “Ah, it’s just an old man and his kid.” The voice laughed. “We’ve probably terrified our poor brothers.” They drew closer, the small fire illuminating their faces. Patton had seen a few of them around the city, but none were regulars at de Foy. “Don’t worry, amies.” he called to them. “What are you two doing out? It’s cold for July, in the woods, at least.”

“It was hotter in Paris,” Patton agreed with a little shrug. “We thought I might find work in de Choisy. It’s been a long journey and my father’s unwell," he lied, rubbing Remus’ shoulder. “I thought a bit of rest might help and then we’ll continue on in the morning.”

“You haven’t been to the palace?” The one with the brightest torch laughed.

“What business would we have at the damned King’s palace?” Patton muttered, arm looping around Remus’ when he flinched at his tone. “Besides, we saw robbers on the road and heard screams, so we hid.“ He hung his head and didn’t need to hide his shame. “I was afraid they’d hurt my father.” 

“Oh, dear frere, no…” He crouched down and tugged at Patton’s red scarf. “Not robbers! It’s the revolution come to Versailles! Here, ami, take these." A pair of sturdy leather boots, polished like the ones worn by the palace guard, hung from his shoulder by their straps. "These look to be your size," he passed them to Remus, looking down at his bare, dirty feet.

"And here…" He fished something out of a pocket and held out his hand to Patton. In his hand was a thin gold band, dotted with citrines glittering in the firelight. "There's plenty more where this came from. Their jewelry won't save them from the gallows, oui?" The men around him guffawed.

He held the ring Janus had been wearing the last they saw him. “I pulled that off some noble claiming he was one of us. Our dear Dauphin seemed to recognize him, though.” He laughed and nudged Patton’s hand, nodding. “Go on, it’s yours now. He won’t be needing it.”

Patton’s hand shook as he cradled Janus’ ring in his palm. I’m so sorry, Logan. 

“Where are they taking them?” Remus asked, his voice rough as he stared at the bit of gold. Patton’s eyes widened, afraid his accent would betray him, but the rebels only saw dirt and torn clothes. They didn't suspect the future King sat in the midst. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the damned royals’ heads roll before I die.”

The man drew close and clapped Remus’ shoulder. His breath stank of wine and meat. “We’re taking them to Paris in the morning. Let them enjoy a night in the Palace’s dungeons.” Raucous laughter erupted from the band of lackeys behind him. The man with the torch hadn’t been the only one to sample the Palace’s wines.

“Fiston,” Remus muttered to Patton, his movements sluggish but his eyes clear behind his dirt-smudged face. “Son, I’d like to see that. Do you think we can make it to Paris by…”

“Ten o’clock,” the rebel said.

“Ten?” Remus’ jaw was set, his intentions clear. Either Patton went with him or he’d go alone.

“If you rest tonight, Papa…” Patton poked at the fire with a long stick, sending sparks up into the breeze. “We’ll rise with the dawn,” he nodded. “We can make it.” We can save them.

#French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution #ts patton #ts remus #ts logan #ts roman #ts janus #ts lucas #dukeceit #demus #one-sided logicality #Crown Prince Remus Capetian #Prince Roman Capetian #Patton Cœur #Father Logan Gérault #Janus Robesbierre #au of the french revolution: what would happen if robespierre fell in love #major character death

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

What caused the conflict between Robespierre and his supporters and Thermidorians that led to the events of 27/28th July? Everyone keeps saying different things

If we’re talking about a specific event that lead directly to July 27, the answer to me is pretty simple — it was the speech Robespierre held the day right before it, in which he called for new proscriptions against deputies in the Convention, the Committee of Public Safety (CPS) and the Committee of General Security (CGS), without being clear about exactly which ones he was targeting (even after explicately having been asked to to do so right after the speech was finished). If dissent between the robespierrists and other deputies, as well as more longgoing plans to undermine the former, had existed already before this speech was held, what ultimately happened on July 27 was not a result of these as much as something improvised in less than 24 hours in response to the sudden crisis it had caused by making everyone fear they might be on Robespierre’s list.

If we’re talking more about the underlying motives which made the situation on July 26-28 happen in the first place, for Robespierre’s part, he had grown convinced that the Convention and the two government committees contained conspirators within their midst. Exactly which people he suspected to be part of this conspiracy is hard to know for sure, seeing as he, as already stated, didn’t make himself clear enough in the speech (I’ve speculated a bit on which people I think it’s most likely he had in mind in this post). It is equally dubious whether Robespierre’s collegues at the CPS to some extent had supported his views or how much this new conspiracy was his own hobby horse. Regardless, Robespierre believed the conspirators had to be unveiled and crushed at any price, and, after openly having expressed his fears about them a couple of times at the Jacobin club, he finally decided to openly ask the Convention to take action.

When it comes to the people who overthrew Robespierre, once it was over and done, they would almost all give the same answer as to why they had acted the way they had acted — Robespierre was either acting like or aspiring to become a tyrant/dictator, and they killed him in order to put a stop to this authoritarian project. While I wouldn’t dismiss a fear like this to be nothing but a post construction, it can nevertheless also be established that, when looking closer at these guys’ activities shortly before thermidor, many can be revealed to have had motives grounded in personal dissatisfactions and/or fears of Robespierre as much as any eventual noble intentions. Some examples can be seen below:

Tallien (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor, was one of ten deputies to have signed the pampleth Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal [sic] par neuf représentants du peuple contre Maximilien Robespierre, pour le poignarder en plein senat released shortly after thermidor) —  Openly denounced by Robespierre on June 12 on the grounds of being ”one of those who speak incessantly with terror, and publicly of the guillotine, as something that concerns them, to debase and disturb the National Convention.” His mistress has been imprisoned since May 22 (the warrant for her arrest was actually written by Robespierre himself, but idk if Tallien was aware of that) and he is in dire need to get her out of jail. In his memoirs, Fouché claims that Tallien was one of several deputies he in the weeks leading up to thermidor would tell: ”you are on the list, you are on the list as well as myself, I am certain of it!” no doubt alarming the latter.

Fouché (Pointed to by several contemporaries as the leader of/important for the conspiracy. Did however not play an active role during July 27-28) — was recalled from his mission in Lyon on March 27by a rather frosty decree written by Robespierre. After returning, Fouché possibly had a private meeting with him where he would have been scolded for his conduct (though interestingly, on April 8, Robespierre is recorded to have ”praised” Fouché after the latter had read a report regarding his activities in Lyon…) He has also come under suspicion for his alleged atheism and ties to certain hébertists (most importantly Ronsin who had been his collegue in Lyon before getting executed alongside the hébertists in March 1794). On July 14, Fouché was openly attacked by Robespierre, who called him ”the leader of the conspiracy which we have to thwart" and got him expelled from the jacobins. If Fouché wasn’t already plotting Robespierre’s downfall at that point he surely must have started doing so after this incident.

Billaud-Varennes (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor) — Indirectly denounced by Robespierre in his final speech, both through the phrase ”why do those who told you once that we are walking on a volcano think that we walk on only roses today?” and the suggestion to purge members of the CPS. Booed down and driven out of the Jacobin Club under shouts of ”the conspirators to the guillotine” when Robespierre rerread said speech there on the evening of July 26, which probably gave him a very strong feeling that he was on the menu and would be executed if Robespierre was not. Claimed after thermidor to during a CPS meeting loudly have accused Robespierre and Couthon of pushing through the law of 22 prairial without anyone else in the committee having been involved, leading to the session becoming so stormy that the windows had to be closed.

Collot d’Herbois (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor, was also chairholder during this session) — Driven out of the Jacobin Club under shouts of ”to the guillotine” at the same time as Billaud-Varennes. According to one report, this was not before he had thrown himself before Robespierre’s feet and begged him to reunite with the CPS. Had been tipped off by Fouché on April 20 that Robespierre was investigating the latter for his actions in Lyon, which would make him guilty by association. Claimed in his defence (March 1 1795) to once have been declared ”traitor and conspirator” by Robespierre, ”because I had strongly supported the useful and wise proposal that Lindet made, to require horses and carriages in each section of Paris, in order to provide for the supplies of the armies.” According to Michel Biard’s Collot d’Herbois: légendes noires et révolutions(1995) Collot and Billaud’s abandonment of Robespierre is best understood through their perception of his political role than it is by any eventual differences in political or religious matters.

Vadier, Élie Lacoste (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor, Lacoste being the one to demand an arrest warrant against Augustin Robespierre) — these were both members of the CGS. Robespierre had explicately denounced said committee, and particulary its agents, in his July 26 speech, ending by demanding it lose its autonomy to instead become subserviant to the CPS. The CGS had however already earlier that year been robbed of some of its special attributes, when, on April 20, a CPS driven police bureau, mainly directed by Robespierre, Couthon and Saint-Just, had been introduced, something we might imagiene also became an object of irritation. Two months later, Robespierre had also personally taken care one of the committee’s cases (the Catherine Théot affair, which I wrote about more at length here) was taken away from them to instead be run by robespierrists. The handling of said affair was also something Robespierre explicately denounced the CGS for in his July 26 speech. It is also commonly stated that Vadier disagreed with Robespierre’s religious ideas, he himself being a militant atheist, but I’m not sure for what the source for that is.

Fréron (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor, was one of ten deputies to have signed the pampleth Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal…) — was never openly denounced by Robespierre as far as I’m aware, nor was the decree recalling him from his mission in Marseille, on the grounds of having gone to far when wanting to rename the city, been neither authored nor signed by him. We do however know Fréron had been close to the dantonists executed in April, thereby making revenge and/or fear of being seen as ”guilty by association” a possible motive. The same thing can be said for other men traditionally described as dantonists that we know worked against Robespierre, such as Bourdon de l’Oise, Thuriot, Guffroy etc.

Guffroy (was one of ten deputies to have signed the pampleth Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal…) — disillusioned by the fact Robespierre and the rest of the CPS have failed/chosen not to act on the representative on mission Joseph Lebon after Guffroy multiple times had denounced him to them.

Bourdon d’Oise (spoke against Robespierre during the session of 9 thermidor) — Had spoken against the law of 22 prairial both June 10, 11 and 12, earning himself a reprimand from Robespierre on the latter of these dates. According to the memoirs of Pierre Nicolas Berryer, it was after this session Bourdon started plotting for Robespierre’s downfall, seeing in it ”a struggle to the death” between the two, and planning to on his own stab him to death with a cutlass.

Lecointre (author behind the pampleth Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal [sic] par neuf représentants du peuple contre Maximilien Robespierre, pour le poignarder en plein senat released shortly after thermidor) — Openly spoke against the law of 22 prairial when it was introduced on June 10, asking for an adjournment and applauding the deputy Ruamps when he said he would blow his brains out was the law to pass. In the above mentioned pampleth, he wrote that it was when he heard rumors Robespierre was the only person behind the law he decided to start working to undermine him.

So as can be seen, there’s not really a single motive for the conspirators, but a whole bunch of them. To understand them better, it is also important to remember just how the political climate looked like by the summer of 1794. I think it’s safe to assume the trials and executions of the hébertists and dantonists in March and April had unnerved several of the Convention deputies, the death of Danton in particular being seen as evidence that anyone could be declared a counter-revolutionary. Then just two months later, the law of 22 prairial gets introduced by Couthon and Robespierre, a law which strips the Convention of its exclusive rights to bring its own members to trial. This just two days after Robespierre has presided over the Festival of the Supreme Being, an event which had put several members a bit off. With all these things combined, I don’t think it’s fully unreasonable people would be willing to believe Robespierre was up to no good/planning to make himself a dictator, especially if someone was actively spreading/confirming that fear. It’s also important to keep in mind that on both sides of the conflict, the deputies were overworked, tired, irrational and suffering from the summer heat. I think thermidor is therefore best understood if we assume none of the men involved in it were necessarily on their most rational behaviour when things went down.

#sorry this took forever to get published #robespierre #fouché #tallien #billaud-varennes #collot d’herbois #frev #laurent lecointre #ask