I am grateful to Simon Schama for writing this scholarly account of the personnel in the French Revolution. Had I not found it in the Oxfam bookshop (hardback £2.99), I might never have got round to plugging this enormous great gap in my knowledge of essential history. At school I studied Europe from the Treaty of Utrecht to 1789, and Britain from 1815 to to the outbreak of The Great War, neatly incising the Revolution itself from cause and result (I take Napoleon, whom Simon barely mentions, to be just as much a product of the Ancien Regime as Marat, Danton and Robespierre). Of course, I've always had the basic highlights: the fates of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, the tale of Charlotte Corday (she was on Blue Peter, wasn’t she?), The Terror. As far as fiction goes (and history is at least 50% fiction, isn’t it?), A Tale Of Two Cities has always struck me as a somewhat flawed novel, not because of any lack of scholarly insight on Dickens' part, but because for me his repertory is inappropriately employed here (Hard Times suffers a similar miscasting). The Scarlet Pimpernel I’ve always taken to be at least 50% claptrap, though not on any authority. What I really lacked was an objective walkthrough of the facts; Simon Schama's take is not very detached – but his distinctive right wing (Thatcherite, Reaganomic) viewpoint only partially detracts from this account, while colouring it with the enthusiasm of a credible historian.
As an amateur academic, I had often wondered what the working class people of France ever saw in Jean Jacques Rousseau’s insistence on getting back to nature, which seemed as irrelevant to their hungry, downtrodden lives as Marie Antoinette's obsession with the peasant lifestyle. Voltaire’s championship of justice, though intellectually exclusive, was less difficult to brook. His view of Rousseau as a simpleton (ie Candide) is not all tongue in cheek, though I wonder how many starving farmworkers could have named any herbs beyond those they could eat? But I also wonder what on earth those two permanent occupants of the revolutionary Pantheon would have made of The Terror? Simon Schama does not take us there, but his portrait of Malesherbes – an amateur botanist – is one of the many semi-rounded walk-ons that make his book so readable. He conducts us through the revolution from the point of view of its main actors, pausing as each one comes into focus to give us their take on the situation thus far. In doing so, he rather assumes a working knowledge of the events and institutions on his readers' parts. This character based approach, as he warns us in the introduction, is a throwback to 19th century history writing; but he avoids stereotype in favour of something like investigative journalism. Rousseau and Voltaire were safely out of the way before 1789, so they’re left pretty flat; whereas Mirabeau and Malesherbes, who were old hands but still very much around, are treated to the full relief.
That a great many of these lives ended in bloody queues to the steps of the guillotine seems all too inevitable. But you can’t write that horrid invention out of history. In fact, Simon Schama tops and tails his book with portraits of a handful of men (and even one woman) who came before and after the 26 year interruption of Bourbon rule. Individuals are swept along by the tide, and yet movement in politics is made up of people, and real people are indeed individuals. Just as the innocent were butchered along with the guilty, so were a few of the principals wily or lucky enough to escape.
Not having read other books on the subject, I can't really comment on the idea that the origins of the French Revolution were in France's military failures in the Seven Years' War, though I've long held the proxy view that it must have stemmed in part from the French interference in the American Revolution (a view shared by a Frenchwoman of my acquaintance). However, I do know something of that earlier conflict (see below, my review of Montcalm and Wolfe). Known to Americans as The French And Indian War, it has long seemed ironic to me how the Yanks first used the British to get rid of the French, and then the French to do the same for the Brits. In this context, what happened in France was payback. Is bloodshed ever good? Schama doesn't bother to tackle such a horrid question; but he does speculate on whether Louis, for example, could have avoided the outcome.
A left wing analysis would probably take a more balanced view of The Terror. Like Stalin’s purges, the Killing Fields of Pol Pot or the Cultural Revolution in China, most revolutions seem programmed to undergo such brutal efforts at self purification: with the sheer logic of ideology inexorably leading to the proverbial fate of rats in a sack, Schama quietly tut-tuts over successive waves of revolutionaries bumping each other off. He all but avoids farce. More or less concluding with Robespierre, he sets the stage for Napoleon, then reaches out to catch that boomerang package of survivors he launched in the opening chapters.
Pity is reserved not so much for the king and his family, but for the likes of the Malesherbes clan. With the treachery of the Duc d'Orléans condemning his own cousin to the guillotine, and an unromanticised dismissal of Marie Antoinette, the royals are tellingly dispatched. Only Louis' untreated toothache seems to mitigate his fate, and the denial of the royal coach to his Queen, who has to endure the tumbril ride. While the Malesherbes are portrayed queueing at the foot of the scaffold, the old man having to wait till last as his daughter and granddaughter are decapitated before him, their blood spattering his shirt. Though the author doesn’t exactly rub their noses in it, it is a crime the whole French national are forever diminished by, at least in this reader’s eyes.
But a point I was curious Simon Schama didn’t make was how the revolutionaries failed to take Malesherbes' support for Rousseau into account. Surely anyone who had helped save their greatest hero was worthy of a kinder fate? Perhaps he reasoned the barbarity of The Terror needed no further highlighting, or that its illogicality was already sufficiently proved? He might also have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of atrocity. He does mention that many other whole families were wiped out on similarly absurd or trumped up charges.
The logic of the revolution was that a man should lose his head for being unaware how many eggs were needed to make an omelette. In other words, one absurdity deserves another. Private scores were settled in the name of liberty, equality and fraternity, while a huge bunch of more or less eloquent rogues gradually ate themselves up before the reins of power were seized by a tyrant no one could murder – Napoleon. Why on earth the successors of the revolution didn't heed its obvious message – that Terror would become necessary, and then destroy any good work the revolution had done – is beyond the scope of Citizens. But that’s the main weakness of a book written from a reactionary point of view.
Meantime, I am most grateful to Simon Schama for reinforcing the terms ci-dessou and sans-culottes, which have now permanently entered my vocabulary, waiting to take their turns at suitable moments.