The French Revolution and the Root of All Evil

There is much talk today, across the Western world but especially in America, of communism, socialism, Marxism and Leninism, and the Total State. Grand allusions are made to the Soviet regime, to third-world dictatorships, to 20th century coups, and to Nazi propaganda. But what is tragically and all-too-often overlooked is not the Bolshevik Revolution, nor Hitler’s ascension to the chancellorship of Germany, nor the numerous communist revolutions and counter-revolutions which populated the latter half of the 1900s, but an older revolution, which served as the root of them all: the French Revolution.

The opening ceremony of the Olympics in Paris makes manifest not only the dread influence that the French Revolution exercises over the world still, but also makes clear that the demonic forces within leftism recognize their own parentage and have not forgotten the Luciferian goals of the French Revolution. Drag queens performing a diabolical parody of the Last Supper may seem like an innovation of degeneracy, common enough across the globe: the promotion of the LGBT agenda coupled with irreverence toward the Divine. But the inclusion of a nude, blue-painted Dionysus may have confused some and certainly provided some cover for the Paris Olympics organizers to claim that they were not mocking Christ — how could they be if a pagan god were the centerpiece?

But the appearance of Dionysus, coupled with a garish mockery of the decapitated Queen Marie Antoinette, made it evident that the radical, pro-abortion, pro-LGBT themes adored by leftists everywhere and celebrated profusely (and profanely) in Paris last week trace their lineage to the too-often-overlooked French Revolution. The forces of Hell declared on Friday, in Paris, that the French Revolution is far from over. In order for its evils to be resisted and, eventually, undone, it must first be understood.

The Revolution’s Origins

“For the average person, all problems date to World War II; for the more informed, to World War I; for the genuine historian, to the French Revolution,” the ingenious Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn once wisely noted.

On the few occasions that thought is given today to the French Revolution, it is usually portrayed or viewed as a rebellion against an oppressive monarchy, orchestrated by the starving, abused, and neglected masses; the Reign of Terror is cast as a misguided effort to maintain order, driven by the will of the people. In reality, the French Revolution was an intentional and willful rejection of all authority, even the authority of God Almighty; the Reign of Terror was no ill-advised attempt at some abstract good, but, by the admission of the hubristic intellectual elites who in fact orchestrated the Revolution, “the order of the day,” a necessary and even integral means — not of maintaining order amidst chaos — but of destroying the order which had existed in France for over 1,300 years.

At the close of the 18th century, France was suffering. Wars, especially against the British, had driven the nation deep into debt. Although King Louis XVI earnestly sought financial reforms to alleviate the burden placed on the poorest of his people, he was often opposed by the nobles of his court, who had fallen into the same self-centered degeneracy that had become common across France. Prostitution had long been outlawed but flourished in dark and hidden places, and although the king’s grandfather Louis XIV had outlawed pornography, Louis XVI found it increasingly difficult to halt the production, distribution, and consumption of the smut that burgeoning newspapers and magazines printed, particularly as the demand for pornography increased. Gambling, too, had become a common pastime among all the classes of the French.

Although France was once known as “the Eldest Daughter of the Church,” devotion to Christianity had been declining as the nation’s decadence had been increasing. The corruption of overly-political and underly-faithful bishops and cardinals only worsened matters, although the majority of parish priests were reported to be devout, but often left too poor by the political elites of the day.

Despite these internal difficulties, France still maintained the largest and most powerful land military of any European power at that time and an impressive navy, outmatched only by Great Britain’s. Additionally, the nation’s gross domestic product (GDP) was nearly double that of other major European countries. Unfortunately, toll roads and taxes meant to offset the cost of France’s debt meant that the price of many commodities, such as wheat and bread, increased significantly, especially in large cities like Paris, where the population had exploded over the previous century.

In order to address the nation’s financial crisis, Louis XVI called a council of the Estates General in 1789, the first in nearly 200 years. The three “estates” were the nobility, the clergy, and the people. Each would send representatives to discuss issues at the king’s behest and present the monarch with a resolution. However, the French people were dismayed that their representative body was the same size as that of the other two “estates,” despite the disproportionate disparity in the size of the “estate” being represented. Unable to agree on a resolution with the self-concerned nobles and politically-minded bishops, and perhaps inspired by their friends in the new nation of America, the “third estate” formed its own, separate legislative body, called the National Assembly.

A Note on the American Revolution

Perhaps due to their chronological proximity and some superficially similar circumstances, the American Revolution and French Revolution are sometimes unjustly likened unto one another. The American Revolution was, in essence, conservative: it sought to conserve a particular way of life against novel and tyrannical encroachments. The French Revolution, on the other hand, attempted to destroy the old way of life and replace with something entirely new and entirely artificial.

Both revolutions cited “enlightenment” thinkers as inspirations, but the American revolutionaries tempered this new philosophy both with the wisdom of the ancients (Roman senators like Cicero featured prominently in the libraries and conversations of the Founding Fathers) and the morality of Christianity. The French revolutionaries, on the other hand, jettisoned both ancient wisdom and Christian morality, steeping themselves in dangerous new philosophies.

Both revolutions fought against kings, but the American revolutionaries did not reject authority; they rather appealed to the Highest of Authorities in the face of injustice and an abuse of authority on the part of the king and his governors. The French revolutionaries, meanwhile, rejected all authority, declaring themselves supreme in place of not only their king but even God Himself.

The American Revolution was rooted in virtue and justice and is peopled with countless paragons of both. The French Revolution was rooted in nothing, and its legacy — as will be discussed — is one of godlessness, death, and absolute terror.

Out with the Old

Faced with the new National Assembly, King Louis XVI agreed to their demands for numerous reforms and planned to address the Estates General. In preparation for the king’s address, the meeting place of the Estates General was temporarily closed. Unaware of the planned closure, the new National Assembly assumed that it was being silenced and thus demanded a new constitution to bind their monarch.

In an effort to pressure the king to acquiesce to their demands for a new constitution, French revolutionaries, supporters of the new National Assembly and its goals, attacked the Bastille in Paris. The Bastille was a large, medieval royal fortress and armory, which housed most of the gunpowder in Paris. Capturing it would be a symbolic victory for the revolutionaries over the monarchy and, in more practical terms, would provide them with a great store of weapons. Fighting lasted several hours and when the governor of the Bastille surrendered, he was beheaded and his head placed on a pike. The fortress was torn apart by hand as the French revolutionaries’ hatred of authority made itself more and more manifest.

As the National Assembly began drafting a new constitution, riots broke out in Paris over the rising prices of food. A mob marched on the palace of Versailles, intent on killing Queen Marie Antoinette, who newspapers slandered as wasteful, extravagant, and careless. The Marquis de Lafayette, who had aided America in its own Revolutionary War and now served as the leader of the French National Guard, negotiated the royal family’s safety and convinced Louis to move his family to Paris. The king and his family were placed in a carriage to Paris, along with the severed heads of his household guards, painted garishly in makeup.

In Paris, Louis was expected to sign whatever new legislation the National Assembly demanded. He acquiesced to much but would not approve the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, a document formally declaring that the allegiance of priests and religious was to the state, not to God. France was, up until then, officially a Catholic nation and the Catholic Church was the largest single landowner in France, owning at least 10% of all property.

The French revolutionaries abhorred the king and denied him his authority. But although they could not ultimately strip God of His authority, they tried to. The National Assembly seized all Church property and, in 1790, dissolved monasteries and religious orders. Priests were ordered to swear allegiance to the state instead of to God. Less than a quarter took the oath. The rest were exiled or, more commonly, executed. At one time, a group of 16 Carmelite nuns were ordered to forsake their prayers, their religious habits, and their God. All 16 sang hymns as they were led to the guillotine after refusing.

The Reign of Terror

Anticipating war with the neighboring Austrian and Prussian empires, the National Assembly ordered a preemptive assault, and war broke out along the borders of France. With many men conscripted to fight, Paris was left with significantly fewer supporters of the revolution, but plenty of political prisoners. In an event known now as the September Massacre, nearly 2,000 prisoners in Paris were slaughtered by the revolutionaries in 1792, after news reached the city that Prussia had captured a handful of French towns close to the border and were on the road to Paris. In Paris, prisoners were shot, stabbed, and ripped limb from limb. Many of the women were brutally raped before being killed.

The Brunswick Manifesto, issued by Prussia and Austria, warned the revolutionaries not to harm the monarchs, but it only served to enrage them. Although he and his family had been under house arrest for over two years, King Louis XVI was sentenced to death for “conspiracy against public liberty and general safety” and was beheaded in January of 1793.

In the past, only nobles and privileged persons were executed by beheading. Medieval forms of execution for those not of royal blood included being hanged, drawn and quartered, drowned, or even burned at the stake — all depending on the type and severity of the crime. One of the chief leaders of the French Revolution was a young lawyer named Maximilien Robespierre. He believed that, since all men were now “equal” under the ideology of the revolution, all men should face the same execution, and he concluded that beheading was the most “humane” way to go. The guillotine thus became as much a character in the revolution as Robespierre or Louis.

The revolutionaries’ stated goal of “de-Christianization” was extremely unpopular in the countryside and sparked revolts in support of the Church and the king. In the Vendée region, royalist patriots led a Catholic revolt against the new government’s military, resulting in civil war. They were put down brutally, though not at all easily. It is estimated that, not counting the deaths of soldiers, at least 100,000 civilians were killed by the government, and many historians consider the War of the Vendée to be one of the first modern examples of genocide.

In response, the National Assembly formed the Committee of Public Safety, a council of 12 men, led by Robespierre, who effectively took over the entire government. Although he had railed against the death penalty in his youth, Robespierre now became one of its greatest purveyors. The lawyer launched what has become known as the Reign of Terror. He even declared, “Terror is the order of the day.”

At its height, it is estimated that 800 people were executed in Paris per month during the Terror. Political moderates were targeted and labeled traitors for not being vocal enough in their support for the revolution, and then executed. New laws meant that those caught complaining about the revolution or its effects would be executed, those who used the traditional address of monsieur or mademoiselle, instead of the revolutionary new “citizen,” would be executed. A tribunal was established to “expedite” executions, and most of those sentenced to death were beheaded before the day’s end, with no option for an appeal. The paranoia, calumny, and terror rivalled even the worst that the Soviet Union had to offer centuries later.

One of the first acts of the Committee of Public Safety was to suspend the new constitution and declare itself the Supreme Revolutionary Government. All the humanist ideals that the revolutionaries had, just a few years prior, promised were violently suppressed. Robespierre advocated a “positive” civic life, which meant active participation in government. Those who did not wish to participate were suspect, charged with treason, and often executed. Those accused of being “enemies of the state” were denied defense at trial and, of course, quickly executed. Free speech was suppressed, with criticism of the new regime or the results it achieved violently silenced.

It was during the Terror that Marie Antoinette was slain. The queen was put on trial and accused of treason, of spying, and of working against the revolution. She remained silent as lies and slander were hurled at her but finally spoke up when she was accused of sexually abusing her own son and committing incest with him. He was nine years old. The queen appealed to all mothers present to stop the madness, to recognize that no person of sound conscience could commit such heinous acts, noting only someone of the most depraved conscience could even conceive of them.

She was declared guilty of treason and conspiracy against the state and executed in October of 1793. Her last words were, “My God! Have mercy upon me! My eyes have no more tears to weep for you my poor children; goodbye, goodbye!” Her son, Louis, with whom she had been accused of committing incest, had been taken from her months before her trial and subjected to all manner of cruelty, including starvation. He died of an untreated infection at the age of 10. At his autopsy, the doctor was shocked by the scars left from the numerous beatings he had been subjected to since being taken from his mother.

Robespierre used the Reign of Terror to target his political opponents too, guillotining those who questioned his legislation or criticized his leadership. He was aided in this by the journalist Jean-Paul Marat, a failed doctor who found fame as the author of countless violent rants in revolutionary newspapers, always baying for blood. Through his own newspaper L’Ami du People (Friend of the People), Marat frequently called for executions. He once told revolutionary readers that “five or six hundred heads cut off would have assured your repose, freedom[,] and happiness.”

The God of the Godless

The anti-Christian animus of the French Revolution was not sated by the slaughter of faithful priests and parishioners. All street names which included the names of saints were removed and countless churches were desecrated, defiled, and despoiled. In one infamous instance, a procession of revolutionaries enthroned a prostitute atop the altar in the Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris.

Marat was assassinated in 1793. The bloodthirsty journalist suffered from a skin disease and resigned his place in the National Assembly to spend his days soaking in medicinal baths while Paris was soaked red about him. A young woman named Charlotte Corday appeared at his apartments one day, claiming to have information concerning traitors to the revolution. Eager to print their names, Marat invited Corday to attend him as he bathed. Repulsed by the man’s constant clamoring for violence and hoping to end the bloodshed, Corday stabbed him in the chest. He bled to death within seconds.

Following his death, Marat was turned into a sort of holy martyr by his revolutionary compatriots. Streets once named after Christian saints were renamed in his honor. Robespierre proposed to replace a public statue of a notable saint with a statue of Marat, and the artist Jacques-Louis David turned the deceased journalist into a Christ figure, modeling his painting of Marat’s death after portrayals of Christ in both Michelangelo’s Pietà and Caravaggio’s Entombment of Christ.

The National Assembly was fairly divided between atheists and Freemasonic deists. Robespierre and Marat had been members of the latter. In the 80 years prior to the revolution, the number of Freemasonic lodges in France had swelled from less than 100 to over 2,000. While Robespierre and many of his Freemasonic brethren rejected the Christian God, they still at least nominally subscribed to the idea of a Supreme Being. For Robespierre, this was the goddess of Reason.

The influential lawyer, up until then seen as a hero of the revolution, devised what he called the Cult of Reason and planned an elaborate festival in honor of the “Supreme Being” in June of 1794. This included worshipping the goddess of Reason, but many were surprised when Robespierre himself donned a toga and took up a golden staff, revealing himself at the festival’s culmination as the “Supreme Being” in the eyes of many. His contemporaries in the National Assembly murmured that he clearly saw himself as God. Fearing that he might make himself a dictator, they circulated rumors that he proclaimed himself a second messiah.

Shortly after the festival, some in the National Assembly openly accused Robespierre of despotism. He refused to answer their charges, instead announcing that he had a new list of traitors to the revolution. Unwisely, he did not read the list, leading many to fear that they might be named and executed. When Robespierre returned to the assembly the following day, he was arrested along with many of his political supporters. Before they could face execution, Robespierre and his allies attempted suicide. One man flung himself from a high window, others shot themselves. Robespierre tried to shoot himself in the face but survived, only shattering his own jaw. He was executed in July of 1794, facing the same guillotine to which he had condemned so many. While Robespierre had hidden away in Paris palaces instead of witnessing the executions he had ordered, a dark irony forced him to confront his own death: he was executed on his back, so that he could watch as the blade of the guillotine fell upon him.

Robespierre’s death was followed by a series of confused revolts, uprisings, and revenge killings. But by 1795, much of the bloodshed had been stemmed under the openly corrupt Directory, a selection of deputies of the National Assembly, most of them political moderates who had survived or escaped the Terror, who rigged or canceled elections and claimed to maintain order. This Machiavellian group presided over the continued decline of France for four years, until war hero Napoleon Bonaparte and a small group of his allies took over the legislature and Bonaparte eventually declared himself emperor.

Vive la Révolution

The spirit of the French Revolution lives on today. In some sense, all revolutions since then have taken the French Revolution as their inspiration and forebearer. The bloody Bolshevik Revolution, Adolf Hitler’s ascension to dictatorship, the countless communist revolutions of the 20th century are all the progeny of the French Revolution.

As exciting or easy as it may be to discuss today the threat of communism or even Marxism, all pales before the threat of the French Revolution and its ideals. The rampant cultural degeneracy of today — state-sanctioned homosexuality, transgenderism, the obsession with drag queens, the inundation of pornography — none of these things can find a clear or total analogy in, say, the Soviet Union or Nazi Germany. But they can all point to the French Revolution, where “liberté” reigned supreme.

The French Revolution’s notion of liberty differed starkly from the prevailing Christian definition of liberty. Up until then, Christianity had promoted the idea of “positive liberty,” which meant the freedom to pursue virtue. This Christian understanding of liberty would have made (and indeed did make) such things as pornography illegal, knowing that pornography was not freedom but enslavement to vice. The French Revolution instead propounded the glory of “negative liberty,” which is not the freedom to do good but rather the absence of restriction. It is, in fact, libertinism.

This perversion of what liberty is was coupled with a decidedly anti-Christian understanding of man. Christianity proclaims that man was made good, being made in the image and likeness of God, but that he is marred or wounded by the stain of original sin. Thus, concupiscence ensues, and many of our desires tend towards sin and vice and selfishness.

Thanks to the “enlightenment,” the French Revolution took a different view: man is good by his nature, which is not wounded, and thus all his desires are also good. The only real evils that the French Revolution would identify were sins not against God or against one’s fellow man, but sins against the state.

In essence, the state and its libertine, lustful agenda replaced God. The Olympic opening ceremony in Paris alluded to this. Just as the bloodthirsty Marat was rehabilitated into a Christ figure for the revolutionaries, so drag queens were rehabilitated last week into Christ figures for the ideological spawn of the French Revolution, replacing Christ in His own Last Supper.

The inclusion of Dionysus in the ceremony is also noteworthy. The Greek god of wine has often been erroneously compared to Christ by modernist scholars: Dionysus was, according to mythology, slain by the Titans and his flesh consumed, but he was later raised from the dead. Some argue that the historically-verifiable life of Christ is nothing more than a retelling of the myth of Dionysus.

Furthermore, Dionysus (or Bacchus, as he was known by the Romans) was associated with the libertine spirit, and festivals in his honor often included drunken debauchery, culminating in bisexual orgies of grotesque nature. This diabolical spirit is the same one which fueled the French Revolution, and which now animates the godless, secular liberal order and its incessant advancement of everything from homosexuality and the LGBT agenda to abortion. The guillotine was not dismantled, it was simply replicated and placed in little operating rooms around the world, commonly known as abortion facilities.

The French Revolution was, in a way, a second (but far bloodier) Tower of Babel: it was an attempt by man to follow in Lucifer’s footsteps and declare himself God. As God is the ultimate authority — is, in fact, Authority Himself — the revolutionaries had to tear down all authorities. The king, the queen, the priest, the preacher were all enemies of the state because they claimed obeisance to a Higher Authority. So also today, all those who reject the onslaught of LGBT propaganda or the rabid promotion of abortion in obeisance to a Higher Authority are in danger of being declared enemies of the state.

The evil that Christians face today is not rooted in transgenderism or homosexuality or pornography, nor in abortion or euthanasia, nor in communism or Marxism. Those are all but fruits, not roots, growing from the libertine spirit which the French Revolution championed, the spirit which so embraces degeneracy in sheer hatred of authority, of God.

Last week’s Olympic opening ceremony — with its drag queen parody of the Last Supper, its nude Dionysus, its chattering decapitated queen — make abundantly clear that, even centuries after their downfall, the French still recognize this link and, like Robespierre celebrating the Cult of the Supreme Being, pay homage to the demonic forces at work in the world over the past 200 years.