secure the unreserved confidence of any. His magnificent genius was neutralized by his bad reputation.

He and the monarchy depended upon each other, but their lives were ebbing fast. In April, 1791, the great tribune passed away. away. "Il mournt," said Baudin, "à la fleur de son âge et au plus haut degré de sa gloire"-" He died in the flower of his age and at the height of his glory." With his demise closed the first period of the Revolution.

Barnave, Duport, and the Lameths immediately after his death moderated their fierce radicalism. They now plainly saw, in the increasing violence of the Revolution, whither the State was drifting, and they quietly went to work to create a reaction. Their first step in this direction was to try to trace the threads of the many schemes that had been woven by the master hand of Mirabeau. This was impossible, and they soon found that it was far beyond their ability to fill the position once occupied by their old-time enemy.

The States-General met in May, 1789; Mirabeau died in April, 1791, so that there was a space of only about two years between these two events. Yet in this period more reforms had been effected than the most ardent and sanguine reformer at the beginning of the Revolution could have anticipated. The abuses of feudalism had been destroyed, as well as the salt monopoly, titles, privileges, exemptions, and pensions. The Icivil list had been reduced and modified and a

system of uniform taxation had been established; indeed, from a conservative's point of view, there was nothing further to be done but to restore order and to place the monarchy upon a firm foundation of constitutionalism.

But the Revolution was rushing on like a torrent and it was beyond the power of any faction to stay or even to divert its course. It now became nothing but a struggle among the parties for political power and supremacy.

When Mirabeau died Robespierre uttered no regrets; there was one obstacle less between him and his ambition. "Achilles is dead," he exclaimed, "then Troy will not be taken." "So long as Mirabeau lived," said Baudin, “Robespierre remained confounded, with the crowd of deputies attached to the popular cause; he had the temerity to believe that after the death of this athlete he had no longer a superior." At one time Robespierre's admiration for Mirabeau had been very great; but it had since cooled. In his view Mirabeau was not to be trusted. Robespierre regarded him as a born aristocrat, naturally favoring the monarchy, as a paid agent of the court, a revolutionist only because his ambition found in the excitement of the Revolution a theatre for his talents and his genius. His vices, his tastes, his extravagance, his profligacy, and his venality were distasteful to the ascetic deputy from Arras, who could not reconcile such traits, habits, and conduct with the pure and simple doctrines of democracy.

Mirabeau died after but a few days' illness

and it was generally believed that he had been stricken down by the administration of a slow poison.

It is related in "The Memoirs of a Peer of France" that Robespierre, in an unguarded moment, boasted of having been concerned in a conspiracy that had for its object the murder of Mirabeau by poison.

The narrative recites that Marat furnished the recipe - taking good care that the ingredients should be deadly and that Robespierre, with the aid of two or three other confederates, administered the potion while Mirabeau was at dinner. The story is very interesting but totally unsubstantial, and the whole fabric falls to the ground in view of the fact that the autopsy failed to find the slightest trace of poison.

It was perfectly natural, when a man of distinction died suddenly in those days of excitement and suspicion, that there should spring up a crop of rumors and all sorts of sensational stories. As usual, Robespierre was made to appear as a conspicuous actor in one of the alleged conspiracies. Irrespective of the autopsy, the story has no probabilities. In the first place, Robespierre was naturally reticent and was about the last man in the kingdom to reveal, had he been concerned in it, so important a secret. In the second place he was most abstemious in his habits and not given to talking in his cups. And finally, from all we know of his character, there is no reason to believe that he would act the part of a common assassin and enter into so vile a conspiracy.

CHAPTER XII

THE KING'S FLIGHT TO VARENNES — DANTON AND

ROBESPIERRE ATTACK LA FAYETTE AT THE JACOBINS'

-

RETURN OF THE KING DEPOSI

TION OF KING FAVORED

DUKE OF ORLEANS

SUGGESTED AS SUCCESSOR TO LOUIS XVI.

The king soon tired of the espionage that dogged his footsteps and, fearing that his life was in danger, made arrangements to flee the kingdom.

1

On the night of the 20th of June, 1791, the royal family began their flight. They reached Varennes, were recognized, and compelled to return to the capital. It was Jean Baptiste Drouet, postmaster of the town of Sainte-Menehould, who had the decision and courage to intercept the king's flight and prevent his escape. Drouet had been, at one time, a dragoon stationed at Versailles, and while there had frequently seen both the king and the queen. Although it was in the dusk of the evening when they reached SainteMenehould, he had but little difficulty in recognizing them even through their disguises. This man, who, in the language of Napoleon, "changed the face of the world," hesitated, at first, what plan to adopt for stopping the flight;

1 See "Danton and the French Revolution," p. 110.

but, shortly after the departure of the royal party from Sainte-Menehould, he mounted a horse and dashed wildly in pursuit of the fugitives, overtaking them at Varennes. Here, although it was midnight, he aroused the town, called out the mayor, ordered the ringing of the tocsin, and with some companions overturned a wagon on the bridge over which the king had to go to escape; then, hurrying back to the royal coach, which by this time was surrounded by a crowd of excited citizens, he boldly and positively identified Louis and urged the detention of the royal party. Had it not been for Drouet there is every reason to believe that the king would have escaped, and the Revolution then would have been a different story.

Paris, when it awoke on the morning of the 21st, was startled by the news that the king had fled. At first the truth could hardly be realized. The community seemed stunned; like a suddenly aroused sleeper, it was half dazed and recovered its senses slowly. As is usual under such circumstances of surprise and astonishment, not knowing what else to do, men and boys began running through the streets in every direction, adding to the general excitement without accomplishing any good. Crowds soon gathered and, as if actuated by one impulse, rushed to the Tuileries and sacked the palace from cellar to attic.

No one in all Paris was so surprised and affected by the sudden departure of the prisoners as La Fayette.1 Time and again the king had

1 See "Danton and the French Revolution," p. 211.