XII.

Coblentz, a town situated on the confluence of the Moselle and the Rhine, in the states of the Elector of Treves, had become the capital of the French emigres.  A constantly increasing body of gentlemen, to the number of twenty-two thousand, assembled there, around the seven fugitive princes of the house of Bourbon.  These princes were, the Comte de Provence and the Comte d’Artois, the king’s brothers; the two sons of the Comte d’Artois, the Duc de Berri and the Duc d’Angouleme; the Prince de Conde, the king’s cousin, the Duke de Bourbon, his son, and the Duc d’Enghien, his grandson.  All the military noblesse of the kingdom, with the exception of the partisans of the constitution, had quitted their garrisons or their Chateaus to join this crusade of kings against the French revolution.  This movement—­which now appears sacrilegious, since it armed citizens against their country, and led them to implore the assistance of foreign powers to combat France—­did not at that time possess in the eyes of the French noblesse that parricidal character with which the more enlightened patriotism of the present age invests it.  Culpable in the eyes of reason, it could at least explain itself before feeling.  Infidelity to their country was termed fidelity to their king, and desertion, honour.

Allegiance to the throne was the religion of the French nobles; and the sovereignty of the people appeared to them an insolent dogma, against which it was imperative to take arms, unless they wished to be partakers of the crime.  The noblesse had patiently supported the humiliation and the personal spoliation of title and fortune which the National Assembly had imposed on them by the destruction of the last vestiges of the feudal system; or rather, they had generously sacrificed them to their country on the night of the 6th of August.  But these outrages on the king appeared more intolerable to them than those inflicted on themselves.  To deliver him from his captivity—­rescue him from impending danger—­save the queen and her children—­restore royalty—­or perish fighting for this sacred cause, appeared to them the duty of their situation and their birth.  On one side was honour, on the other their country:  they had not hesitated, but had followed honour; and this was sanctified even more in their eyes by the magic word devotion.  There was real devotion in the feeling that induced these young and these old men to abandon their rank in the army—­their fortune—­their country—­their families, to rally around the white flag in a foreign land, to perform the duty of private soldiers, and brave eternal exile, the spoliation pronounced against them by the laws of their country, the fatigues of the camp, and death and danger on the battle-field.  If the devotion of the patriots to the Revolution was sublime as hope, that of the emigrant nobles was generous as despair.  In civil wars we should ever judge each party by its own ideas, for civil wars are almost invariably the expression of two duties in opposition to each other.  The duty of the patriots was their country; of the emigres, the throne:  one of the two parties was deceived as to its duty, but each believed it fulfilled it.