* july, 1889.
sunday, july 14, is the hundredth anniversary of the fall of the bastille, and the occasion will be splendidly celebrated at paris. in itself the capture of this prison-fortress by the people was not a wonderful achievement; it was ill-defended, and its governor might, had he chosen, have exploded the powder magazine and blown it sky-high. but the event was the parting of the ways. it showed that the multitude had got the bit between its teeth, and needed a more potent master than the poor king at versailles. and the event itself was a striking one. men are led by imagination, and the bastille was the symbol of centuries of oppression. within its gloomy dungeons hundreds of innocent men had perished in solitary misery, without indictment or trial, consigned to death-in-life by the arbitrary order of irresponsible power. men of the most eminent intellect and character had suffered within its precincts for the crime of teaching new truth or exposing old superstitions. voltaire himself had twice tasted imprisonment there. what wonder, then, that the people fixed their gaze upon it on that ominous fourteenth of july, and attacked it as the very citadel of tyranny? the bastille fell, and the sound re-echoed through europe. it was the signal of a new era and a new hope. the revolution had begun—that mighty movement which, in its meaning and consequences, dwarfs every other cataclysm in history.
but revolutions do not happen miraculously. their advent is prepared. they are as much caused as the fall of a ripe apple from the tree, or the regular bursting of the buds in spring. the authors of the revolution were in their graves. its leaders, or its instruments, appeared upon the scene in '89. after life's fitful fever voltaire was sleeping well. rousseau's tortured heart was at rest. diderot's colossal labors were ended; his epitaph was written, and the great encyclopaedia remained as his living monument. d'holbach had just joined his friends in their eternal repose. a host of smaller men, also, but admirable soldiers of progress in their degree, had passed away. the gallant host had done its work. the ground was ploughed, the seed was sown, and the harvest was sure. famished as they were, and well-nigh desperate at times, the men of the revolution nursed the crop as a sacred legacy, shedding their blood like water to fructify the soil in which it grew.
superficial readers are ignorant of the mental ferment which went on in france before the revolution. voltaire's policy of sapping the dogmas by which all tyranny was supported had been carried out unflinchingly. not only had christianity been attacked in every conceivable way, with science, scholarship, argument, and wit; but the very foundations of all religion—the belief in soul and god—had not been spared. the heresiarch of ferney lived to see the war with superstition carried farther than he contemplated or desired; but it was impossible for him to say to the tide of freethought, "thus far shalt thou go and no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." the tide poured on over everything sacred. altars, thrones, and coronets met with a common fate. true, they were afterwards fished out of the deluge; but their glory was for ever quenched, their power for ever gone.
among the great atheists who prepared the revolution we single out two—diderot and d'holbach. the sagacious mind of comte perceived that diderot was the greatest thinker of the band. the fecundity of his mind was extraordinary, and even more so his scientific prescience. anyone who looks through the twenty volumes of his collected works will be astonished at the way in which, by intuitive insight, he anticipated so many of the best ideas of evolution. his labors on the encyclopaedia would have tired out the energies of twenty smaller men, but he persevered to the end, despite printers, priests, and governments, and a countless host of other obstructions. out of date as the work is now, it was the artillery of the movement of progress then. as mr. morley says, it "rallied all that was best in france round the standard of light and social hope."
less original, but nearly as bold and industrious, d'holbach placed his fortune and abilities at the service of freethought. mr. morley calls the system of nature "a thunderous engine of revolt." it was atheistic in religion, and revolutionary in politics. it challenged every enemy of freedom in the name of reason and humanity. here and there its somewhat diffuse rhetoric was lit up with the splendidly concise eloquence of diderot, who touched the work with a master-hand. nor did this powerful book represent a tithe of d'holbach's labors for the "good old cause." his active pen produced a score of other works, under various names and disguises, all addressed to the same object—the destruction of superstition and the emancipation of the human mind. they were extensively circulated, and must have created a powerful impression on the reading public.
leaving its authors and precursors, and coming to the revolution itself, we find that its most distinguished figures were atheists. mirabeau, the first titan of the struggle, was a godless statesman. in him the multitude found a master, who ruled it by his genius and eloquence, and his embodiment of its aspirations. the crowned king of france was pottering in his palace, but the real king reigned in the national assembly.
the girondists were nearly all atheists, from condorcet and madame roland down to the obscurest victims of the terror who went gaily to their doom with the hymn of freedom upon their proud lips. danton also, the second titan of the revolution, was an atheist. he fell in trying to stop the bloodshed, which robespierre, the deist, continued until it drowned him. with danton there went to the guillotine another atheist, bright, witty camille desmoulins, whose exquisite pen had served the cause well, and whose warm poet's blood was destined to gush out under the fatal knife. other names crowd upon us, too numerous to recite. to give them all would be to write a catalogue of the revolutionary leaders.
atheism was the very spirit of the revolution. this has been admitted by christian writers, who have sought revenge by libelling the movement. their slanders are manifold, but we select two which are found most impressive at orthodox meetings.
it is stated that the revolutionists organised a worship of the goddess of reason, that they went in procession to notre dame, where a naked woman acted the part of the goddess, while chenier's ode was chanted by the convention. now there is a good deal of smoke in this story and very little flame. the naked female is a pious invention, and that being gone, the calumny is robbed of its sting. demoiselle candeille, an actress, was selected for her beauty; but she was not a "harlot," and she was not undressed. whoever turns to such an accessible account as carlyle's will see that the apologists of christianity have utterly misrepresented the scene.
secondly, it is asserted that the revolution was a tornado of murder; cruelty was let loose, and the atheists waded in blood. never was greater nonsense paraded with a serious face. during the terror itself the total number of victims, as proved by the official records, was less than three thousand; not a tenth part of the number who fell in the single massacre of st. bartholomew!
but who caused the terror? the christian monarchies that declared war on freethinkers and regicides. theirs was the guilt, and they are responsible for the bloodshed. france trembled for a moment. she aimed at the traitors within her borders, and struck down many a gallant friend in error. but she recovered from the panic. then her sons, half-starved, ragged, shoeless, ill-armed, marched to the frontier, hurled back her enemies, and swept the trained armies of europe into flight. they would be free, and who should say them nay? they were not to be terrified or deluded by "the blood on the hands of the king or the lie at the lips of the priest." and if the struggle developed until the french armies, exchanging defence for conquest, thundered over europe, from the baltic to the mediterranean, from the orange-groves of spain to the frozen snows of russia—the whole blame rests with the pious scoundrels who would not let france establish a republic in peace.
