Chapter 2 - A Better Crown Awaits Me
Part 1 - "The only reward for so many sacrifices is to see the destruction of royalty" Testament Politique de Louis XVI, p. i
Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, Louis XVI, King of France and Navarre and Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette
As every school pupil knows, the French Revolution pre-dated the Ochakov Crisis by over a year. The Bastille Prison, that notorious symbol of Bourbon tyranny containing a few forgers and a handful of 'deviant' noblemen sent there by their families, had fallen in 1789. In the intervening period, France had been steadily drifting to what appeared to be a British-style political system. There had been bumps along the way but it looked for all the world, at least those that cared about it beyond celebrating France making trouble for itself, as though there would soon be a constitutional monarchy and an elected assembly governing the Kingdom of France. A dramatic change from pre-1789 France certainly, but nothing too radical in the Era of the Enlightenment. In reality, that was a veil of convenient fiction drawn over escalating chaos. The National Assembly had been the product of fierce political conflict in the Estates-General, the King and his family had been marched to the Tuileries in Paris as though they were prisoners rather than royalty, order was barely maintained by a citizen militia with greater loyalty to the revolutionary cause than the King or their commanding officer, the Marquis de Lafayette, Paris itself wielded more power through its Commune and the mob than arguably any other authority in France and many in the nobility were fleeing the country either for safety or to plot the overthrow of the revolution, or both.
Louis XVI had repeatedly professed his support for reform and had even shown his approval for the political changes of the revolution in public, but in private he had many doubts about how far the revolution had gone and bridled against his status as a virtual prisoner in a gilded cage. And well might he be concerned, the revolution had been uncontrollable by anyone thus far and, though it was presently mostly 'peaceful' and broadly supported, there was no telling how long that might last. Around the prisoner-king, French internal politics had fractured from the ministerial order of the
ancien regime into a number of fluid factions. The King himself, who tried to be figurehead steering politics. His immediate family, namely his wife and brothers, who generally hated the revolution, had assorted plans to fight back and were somewhat cooperating with each other. His ministers, greatly reduced from a near monopoly on internal political power but still relevant, were divided amongst themselves with Armand Marc, Comte de Montmorin, as the
de jure Chief Minister but Honoré Gabriel Riqueti, Comte de Mirabeau, as the
de facto hub of power. The National Assembly was further divided, over just about every aspect of national governance, except perhaps the consensus on the importance of the King. They were notionally protected, like the King, by the National (but in reality primarily drawn from Paris) Guard. The Guard were officially commanded by Lafayette, who had his own ambitions to be the Hero of Two Worlds, but the Parisian women's forceful march of the royal family to the Tuileries and the events of 18th April 1791 had demonstrated, despite Lafayette's reforms after the 18th April, that the National Guard were by no means reliable.
The voice of the mob was supposed to be the Paris Commune, headed by the Mayor of Paris, Jean Sylain Bailly. Bailly himself was a Feuillant, a moderate constitutional monarchist, but had, like the Commune, at first been very popular. The institutions he and it operated through, however, were new and untested. The mob they sought to lead also often had their own ideas. A temperamental and fickle force, the mob could bay for blood one day, cheer 'vive le roi' the next and be entirely apathetic the day after that. They did not so much treat their social and political superiors as their voice as expect them to do what the mob wanted at any particular moment, usually revolving around the provision of bread. Already the power of the mob had been demonstrated on several occasions and, if they were roused by the tocsin, then the mob would have their way. There were some who tried to harness, or support, their force. Chief among their number were the Cordeliers Club, whose President was the lawyer Georges Danton, and the already notorious newspaper writer Jean-Paul Marat. Outside of Paris, the factions were harder to determine. The revolution and the Assembly were indeed national with wide support but, especially since the Assembly had been marched into Paris, Parisian dominance was resented in some quarters. Popular opinion outside the bourgeoisie tended to care more about bread prices than philosophic debates about the rights of man and many, as Louis XVI believed, still owned their loyalty to the King.
The church was also at war with itself. The aristocracy dominated the episcopal ranks, where believing in God or even living in the diocese were not required to be bishop. These bishops almost all tended to be strongly conservative but a handful, most famously Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, Bishop of Autun, supported the revolutionary cause thus far. Another liberal minded clergyman, Abbé Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès, had written the celebrate pamphlet, 'What is the Third Estate?', that, it wasn't too much of a stretch to argue, had helped start the whole thing. These men were far out of step with their fellows in the upper echelons of the church but right in with their juniors. The common parish clergymen were poor, overworked and denied access to high office. Almost to a man they had been some of the keenest and most effective supporters of the revolution and been instrumental in the Estates-General becoming the National Assembly. Since the introduction of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy in 1790, however, even these men had become riven with division. To top it all off, the French military was in a disastrous state. The army was hidebound with tradition and, as in the church, only an aristocrat could reach high rank. It was also beset with mutinies and only the artillery arm was up to date. The navy was marginally better in quality but significant numbers of its ships were laid up and the dock workers could not be paid to fix them. Both were functionally unusable for any major conflict, as neither crown nor assembly could bear the cost.
No wonder then that the other crowned heads of Europe, used to France's attempts at hegemony, relished the Bourbon monarchy's current difficulties. They also viewed them, despite Marie Antoinette's efforts to persuade her brother Leopold II, in particular, to intervene, as an internal matter. France could burn itself to the ground and no-one would have lifted a finger until the ashes were safe to sort through. In 1791, this certainly seemed possible. France was on a precipice and one wrong move could send it plummeting off into oblivion. That wrong move would be provided in June 1791 by Louis XVI.