Behold, my stuff.

The agitators, paid to raise a clamor against the patriots of the Cordeliers Club, were merely waiting for a pretext. Danton — the vigorous Danton — gave them one during the first intermission by keeping his hat on. Since no law forbade the wearing of hats, and no decree had enshrined the servile custom of remaining bareheaded when actors were not on stage, Danton saw no reason to obey the imperious commands of those automatons who sought to perpetuate this servile habit — a relic of the Ancien Régime. For a few days, I saw a multitude of deluded citizens siding against Danton; they loudly criticized him for wishing to exercise the rights of a free man, arguing that one must respect custom and avoid setting an example of insubordination. Good heavens! Had such a disastrous maxim always been followed, what people would ever have broken their chains, and how could we ourselves have cast off the yoke? Given the fatal inclination toward servitude found in almost all men, what would become of nations were there not, in their midst, a few bold spirits — men intrepid enough to trample upon the orders of despots, raise the standard of insurrection, assault the ramparts of tyranny, and be the first to storm the breach?

Marat in number 504 of l’Ami du Peuple (June 28 1791)

AKA the difference between Marat and Robespierre in a nutshell:

Same actors btw.

Pauline Léon took part in the demonstration. On her way home from there, she used her fists to defend a friend against the family of a national guard. This is the first conserved trace of any militant activities from her side. (Pauline Léon, une républicaine révolutionnaire (2006) by Claude Guillon).

Manon Roland wrote in her memoirs that she on the day in question had been at the jacobins ”where I had witnessed the agitations caused by the sad events on Champ-de-Mars.” Manon remembers walking home eleven o’clock in the evening and bumping into François and Louise Robert. Louise (who it might be worth mentioning would have been seven months pregnant at this point) explains that ”my husband was writing the petition on the altar of the homeland, I was at his side. We escaped the slaughter without daring to retire neither to our house nor that of one of friends.” She therefore asks if they can take shelter at Manon’s place. Manon happily agrees, and brings them over to hôtel Britannique, rue Guénégaud. The next morning, the Roberts start talking through the window with an acquaintance by the name of Vachard, whom they invite up. Vachard speaks loudly about yesterday’s events, boasting about having run his sabre through a National Guardsman. Manon finds this conduct to be careless, and asks the Roberts to tell their friend to leave, which they do. The Roberts themselves leave around noon.

And finally, what if Marat were to return today? What could he think of the state of our planet in the second decade of the twenty-first century? He could read in the history books that the Great French Revolution—his Revolution—is recognized as the watershed event in the making of the modern world. “But what did it accomplish?” he might ask. “It rid France of a parasitic class whose right to rule was based upon aristocratic birthright and traditional privilege.” “Is that all?” “It established legal and political equality, which then spread throughout much of Europe and the world.” “Legal and political equality? What about economic and social equality?” “No, the situation in that regard is even worse than you remember it. Today, despite two centuries of mind-boggling technological progress, a handful of billionaires control most of the Earth’s resources while billions of people remain mired in hunger, disease, oppression, and grinding poverty.” Marat would surely be shocked and dismayed to learn that after more than 200 years his struggle for social revolution had lost none of its relevance and urgency. Where is the People’s Friend now, when we need him?

Jean-Paul Marat - Tribune of the French Revolution by Clifford D. Conner

Comic of my French Revolution x Fantasy series that I’m going to work on for college/future

(Camille announcing himself like this it’s actually funny to imagine)

15 July 1789 (sent out the 14th)

Early on the morning of the 14th, the Bourgeois troops—better armed and better organised than the previous day, numbering some 30 to 40 thousand—were reinforced by 500 to 600 French Guards, who came to join a similar number we already had; roughly the same number of Dragoons and Swiss soldiers swelled their ranks. We dared to advance, without cannons, towards the Invalides, whose garrison opened fire. They were soon forced to open the gates to us: the Governor was the first to hoist our cockade, and all the gates were opened to us. We found very little gunpowder, but at least 30 to 40 thousand muskets, pistols, sabres, and so on, along with 8 or 10 large cannons, not counting the smaller ones. The camp at the Champ de Mars did not put up a fight. We hauled the artillery into the city, and all those accustomed to pushing and shoving violently were given weapons; for the crush caused some to be trampled to death. No sooner had the bourgeois troops swelled in number thanks to the new armaments than they sought to attack the Bastille.

I thought the undertaking was impossible, especially with mere muskets and bladed weapons. The attack took place nonetheless, but it petered out. The Governor used cannons firing cannonballs and grapeshot; as many as 200 of our men may have been killed. Efforts were made to set fire to the gates; but it was all to no avail: these methods were abandoned, and we went to fetch the heaviest cannons, which we trained towards the side opposite the gate, and used them to good effect. The defenders inside then turned their attention to the breach, and the Governor, M. de Launay, resorted to a ruse; he lowered the flag just as the man defending it was seen to fall dead; he then had the drawbridge lowered, and our citizen troops, believing the fortress was theirs, entered triumphantly; but as soon as there were about two hundred of them inside, he ordered his Invalides to lay down their arms, and urged the Bourgeois to do the same. Immediately the drawbridge was raised, and fire was opened on our troops. The cannon then fired, making a good breach, and our Bourgeois, along with a few Gardes-Françaises, charged in furiously; a valiant Garde-Française seized Monsieur de Launay, who immediately drew his Cross of Saint Louis to give it to him; but the Garde-Française refused it, saying: ‘I do not want it; it is that of a traitor’; —they grappled fiercely, and we could not resist the urge to punish him as he deserved: he was stabbed in the face with a bayonet; and then everyone, vying with one another, roughed him up, and he was taken to the Greve, where he was killed; the same was done to the Deputy Governor, the Keeper of the Gunpowder, and the Jailer; and the Invalids, who had opened fire on our troops, were also taken to La Greve, where four were hanged; little gunpowder was found, but some ammunition, and artillery—some pieces of which were hauled into the town.

We searched inside the prisons, where we found few unfortunate souls, who had been set free; but above all, a fine old gentleman, a handsome man, at least five feet eight inches tall, who claimed to have been detained for thirty years; he must be some 65 to 70 years old. He is the Count d’Estrade, sentenced by the despotic authorities to life imprisonment on a charge of high treason brought by scheming women; he was led, supported by others, through the whole of Paris: it was a most bizarre sight, and one well worth pondering, to see, in the Palais-Royal, this good old man being paraded amidst his liberators on one side; and, on the other, at the tips of long pikes, the heads of the Governor, Deputy Governor and Jailer, who had tyrannised this unfortunate old man for thirty years. For the heads of these three men had been cut off and thus displayed for all the city—indeed, one might say the whole nation—to see, such was the crowd gathered at that moment. The alarm was raised by the new reinforcements sent to the Bastille; the militia left there to guard it were, for the most part, betrayed, and the attackers resumed firing on the militia. We rushed there and took ten men away, who were hanged on the spot at La Greve by M. de Flesselles, Provost of the Merchants, who, until that moment, having shown sufficient reserve and cunning in his conduct to give the impression that he was a true patriot, aroused suspicion of collusion with Versailles when he received a courier from the Queen at around five o’clock in the afternoon; this opened people’s eyes to his true nature. It was then observed that, from early that morning, on the pretext of supplying weapons only to well-known individuals, he had disarmed a considerable number of people; that, when people had come to ask him for gunpowder for the attack on the Bastille, he had skilfully evaded the request and had not provided any; added to this was the rumour being spread that a letter from M. de Broglio had advised him to be patient, assuring him that within two hours he would receive reinforcements from Versailles. All this having aroused public anger against him, he was arrested and executed, whilst still wearing his magistrate’s robes, on the Place de Grève, by a volley of pistol shots; thus, this man, who an hour earlier had been, as it were, a minister and all-powerful in Paris, and who enjoyed great influence at Court, was treated, the very next moment, like a beggar, and died on the Place de Grève the death of a traitor. What an example for the Bréteuils, Foulons, Videau de Latours, the Lambesqs, the Condés, the Contis, the Polignacs and so many others who will certainly not be spared if the Nation triumphs! Such is the general cry.

Throughout all this, the People keep a watchful eye on things and endeavour to purge their ranks; for they show no more leniency towards wrongdoers of any other kind than they do towards traitors. All thieves are hanged or imprisoned; at least a hundred have been arrested or hanged over the past two days: there is no justice so rigorous; the streets are safer than at any other time; nowhere does a man on horseback, a porter’s bag or a carriage pass without being stopped, searched and taken to the Town Hall, even the postal couriers; the night before last, a cab filled with cartridges was found. Yesterday, two eight-horse carriages belonging to the Prince of Condé were seized, containing money and silverware, which were impounded at the Town Hall along with the horses, and countless other items; however, towards nightfall, a few detachments of our troops went to the Champ de Mars to link up with the Royalist troops, and brought back a further fifty dragoons, well mounted, who surrendered to us; immediately afterwards, one hundred and fifty soldiers arrived, both Swiss and French; we hope that the whole camp will gradually surrender; the only thing to fear is that there may be traitors amongst them. Even the Hussars, who had previously shown themselves in an unfavourable light, are now siding with us; we hope the same of all the French troops, and we have already received word that they are inclined to do so; provided the provinces support us, we shall prevail over this infernal cabal.

We have learnt nothing of much interest this morning, 15 July. Last night, the alarm bells rang out all over Tours, but this was merely to keep people on tenterhooks and prolong the sense of alarm. Last night at midnight, a danger was reported in Montmartre; but 3,000 men were dispatched there with cannons, as well as some 1,200 men to the Place de Louis XV, carrying ammunition. An hour or two later, two couriers were lost, but none of this amounts to anything.

I forgot to tell you that Versailles found itself starving and without flour; yesterday two carts, bearing the King’s livery, arrived to request flour from the market hall. Monsieur Leleu, who is in charge of the city’s supplies, acted as a true patriot and sent the drivers away, writing as follows: ‘I am expressly charged with supplying the good City of Paris, which is in the gravest danger of running out; I cannot, even for His Majesty’s sake, fail in my duties or betray them, as I owe my allegiance to the Fatherland before I can consider myself a subject of the King.’ We allowed the carriages and horses to leave; fortunately, everything that leaves Gonesse reaches us, including even the grain carriages that have come to us from Caen; but the number of mouths to feed is increasing by the minute, because people are constantly arriving here, and neither horses nor men are allowed to leave, except on foot or in stagecoaches; not even the Court’s own carriages are permitted to leave. Yesterday I saw a young, strapping man stopped whilst in a cabriolet; he managed to slip out of the crowd without being noticed, and abandoned his luggage; he was searched, and a good rifle with cartridges was found, which was seized; the horse was also seized; and, having hitched the cabriolet behind another carriage which was also being taken away, they drove it into town; it is said that even the post coaches are being stopped.

By the will of the people.

(from Bastille to Tuileries)

It's finally here!

Tomorrow begins the summer challenge for all writers and artists who love the French Revolution and want to have a little fun.

This summer, like every year, we will have several events to remember. Some of them bring us joy and others sorrow.

So, let's be creative and share with others our deepest feelings about these events.

For those who don't yet know how it works, I'll summarize it.

The challenge runs from July 14th to August 10th, which are important milestones for anyone interested in the revolution.

We've compiled the prompts you've sent me into the list above - one for each day. Choose any one of them that inspires you and write fiction or poetry, or draw a picture and post it on your blog. You can choose one prompt each day or contribute just once.

Nothing is mandatory, we want you to have fun.

To help us all enjoy it, please tag your posts with:

#frevsummer2026

If you have any questions, please message me.