CHAPTER IV.

REFLECTIONS ON THE CONDUCT OF THE COURT AND KING. INJURIOUS CONSEQUENCES

OF THE COMPLICATION OF LAWS. GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. STATE OF

CIVILIZATION AMONGST THE ANCIENTS, IT’S PROGRESS. THE CROISADES, AND THE

REFORMATION. EARLY FREEDOM OF BRITAIN. THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. FATE OF

LIBERTY IN EUROPE. RUSSIA. DECLINE OF THE ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY.

DESCARTES. NEWTON. EDUCATION IMPROVED. GERMANY. FREDERIC II. OF PRUSSIA.

The effect produced by the duplicity of courts must be very great, when

the vicissitudes, which had happened at Versailles, could not teach

every person of common sense, that the moment was arrived, when

subterfuge and treachery could no longer escape detection and

punishment; and that the only possibility of obtaining the durable

confidence of the people was by that strict attention to justice, which

produces a dignified sincerity of action. For after the unravelling of

the plot, contrived to cheat the expectation of the people, it was

natural to suppose, that they would entertain the most wakeful suspicion

of every person who had been privy to it.

It would have been fortunate for France, and the unhappy Louis, if his

counsellors could have profited by experience. But, still pursuing the

old track, bounding over the mine, the bursting of which had for a

moment disconcerted them, we shall find, that the continual

dissimulation of the king, and the stratagems of his advisers, were the

principal, though perhaps not the sole cause of his ruin. He appears to

have sometimes mistrusted the cabal; yet, with that mixture of facility

and obstinacy in his character, the concomitants of indolence of mind,

he allowed himself to be governed without attempting to form any

principle of action to regulate his conduct. For if he had ever really

desired to be useful to his people, and to lighten their accumulated

burdens, as has been continually insisted, he was astonishingly

defective in judgment not to see, that he was surrounded with

sycophants, who fattened on their hearts blood, using his own hand to

brand his name with infamy. It may possibly be urged in reply, that this

yielding temper was a proof of the king’s benign desire to promote the

felicity of his subjects, and prevent the horrours of anarchy. To

confute such remarks, it is only necessary to state, that the

preparations which had been made to dissolve the national assembly, and

to reduce the people to entire subjection, if they were not his

immediate contrivance, must have had his sanction, to give them

efficiency; and that the tergiversation, which he employed on this

occasion, was sufficient to make every other transaction of his reign

suspected. And this will be found to be the case in all the steps he

afterwards took to conciliate the people, which were little regarded

after the evaporation of the lively emotions they excited; whilst the

want of morals in the court, and even in the assembly, made a prevailing

mistrust produce a capriciousness of conduct throughout the empire.

Perhaps, it is vain to expect, that a depraved nation, whatever examples

of heroism, and noble instances of disinterested conduct, it may exhibit

on sudden emergencies, or at the first statement of an useful reform,

will ever pursue with steadiness the great objects of public good, in

the direct path of virtuous ambition.

If the calamities, however, which have followed in France the taking of

the Bastille, a noble effort, be attributed partly to ignorance, or only

to want of morals, the evils are in no degree lessened; neither does it

justify the conduct of the virulent opposers of those manly exertions

inspired by the voice of reason. The removal of a thousand grinding

oppressions had been demanded;—and promised, to delude the public; who

finding, at last, that the hopes, which had softened their misery, were

likely to be blasted by the intrigues of courtiers, can we wonder, that

the worm these courtiers were trying to crush, turned on the foot

prepared to stamp it to nothing.

The complication of laws in every country has tended to bewilder the

understanding of man in the science of government; and whilst artful

politicians have taken advantage of the ignorance or credulity of their

fellow citizens, it was impossible to prevent a degeneracy of morals,

because impunity will always be a stimulus to the passions. This has

been the cause of the insincerity, which has so long disgraced the

courts of Europe, and pervading every class of men in their offices or

employ, has extended it’s poison throughout the higher orders of

society; and it will require a simplification of laws, an establishment

of equal rights, and the responsibility of ministers, to secure a just

and enlightened policy. But till this be effected, it ought not to

surprize us, should we hear the mock patriots of the day declaiming

about public reform, merely to answer sinister purposes; or should we

chance to discover, that the most extolled characters have ben actuated

by a miserable selfishness, or prompted by corroding resentment, to

exertions for the public good; whilst historians have ignorantly

attributed the political advantages, which have been attained by a

gradual improvement of manners, to their resolution, and the virtuous

exercise of their talents.

And we ought not to be discouraged from attempting this simplification,

because no country has yet been able to do it; since it seems clear,

that manners and government have been in a continual and progressive

state of improvement, and that the extension of knowledge, a truth

capable of demonstration, was never at any period so general as at

present.

If at one epocha of civilization we know, that all the improvements

which were made in arts and sciences were suddenly overturned, both in

Greece and Rome, we need not inquire, why superficial reasoners have

been induced to think, that there is only a certain degree of

civilization to which men are capable of attaining, without receding

back to a state of barbarism, by the horrid consequences of anarchy;

though it may be necessary to observe, that the causes which produced

that event can never have the same effect again:—because a degree of

knowledge has been diffused through society by the invention of

printing, which no inundation of barbarians can eradicate. Besides, the

improvement of governments do not now depend on the genius of particular

men; but on the impetus given to the whole society by the discovery of

useful truths. The opposers then of popular governments may tell us, if

they please, that Themistocles had no motive in saving his country, but

to gratify his ambition; that Cicero was vain, and Brutus only envious

of the growing greatness of Cæsar.—Or, to approach our own times;—that,

if the supercilious Wedderburne had not offered an indignity to

Franklin, he never would have become an advocate for american

independence; and that, if Mirabeau had not suffered in prison, he never

would have written against the _lettres de cachet_, or espoused the

cause of the people.—All of which assertions I am willing to admit,

because they exactly prove what I wish to enforce; namely, that—though

bad morals, and worse laws, have helped to deprave the passions of men

to such a degree, as to make the benefits which society has derived from

the talents or exertions of individuals to arise from selfish

considerations, still it has been in a state of gradual improvement, and

has arrived at such a pitch of comparative perfection, that the most

arbitrary governments in Europe, Russia excepted, begin to treat their

subjects as human beings, feeling like men, and with some powers of

thinking.

The most high degree of civilization amongst the ancients, on the

contrary, seems to have consisted in the perfection the arts, including

language, attained; whilst the people, only domesticated brutes, were

governed and amused by religious shows, that stand on record as the most

egregious insult ever offered to the human understanding. Women were in

a state of bondage; though the men, who gave way to the most unbridled

excesses, even to the outraging of nature, expected that they should be

chaste; and took the only method to render them so in such a depraved

state of society, by ruling them with a rod of iron; making them,

excepting the courtezans, merely household, breeding animals.

The state of slavery, likewise, of a large proportion of men, tended

probably, more than any other circumstance, to degrade the whole circle

of society. For whilst it gave that air of arrogance, which has falsely

been called dignity, to one class, the other acquired the servile mien

that fear always impresses on the relaxed countenance. It may be

delivered, I should imagine, as an aphorism, that when one leading

principle of action is founded on injustice, it sophisticates the whole

character.

In the systems of government of the ancients, in the perfection of the

arts, and in the ingenious conjectures which supplied the place of

science, we see, however, all that the human passions can do to give

grandeur to the human character; but we only see the heroism that was

the effect of passion, if we except Aristides. For during this youth of

the world, the imagination alone was cultivated, and the subordinate

understanding merely exercised to regulate the taste, without extending

to it’s grand employ, the forming of principles.

The laws, made by ambition rather than reason, treated with contempt the

sacred equality of man, anxious only to aggrandize, first the state and

afterwards individuals: consequently, the civilization never extended

beyond polishing the manners, often at the expence of the heart, or

morals; for the two modes of expression have, I conceive, precisely the

same signification, though the latter may have more extent. To what

purpose then do semi-philosophers exultingly show, that the vices of one

country are not the vices of another; as if this would prove, that

morality has no solid foundation; when all their examples are taken from

nations just emerging out of barbarism, regulating society on the narrow

scale of opinions suggested by their passions, and the necessity of the

moment? What, indeed, do these examples prove? Unless they be allowed to

substantiate my observation, that civilization has hitherto been only a

perfection of the arts; and a partial melioration of manners, tending

more to embellish the superiour rank of society, than to improve the

situation of all mankind. Sentiments were often noble, sympathies

just—yet the life of most men of the first class was made up of a series

of unjust acts, because the regulations thought expedient to cement

society, did violence to natural justice. Venerable as age has rendered

many of these regulations, cold substitutes for moral principles, it

would be a kind of sacrilege not to strip them of their gothic vests.

And where then will be found the man who will simply say—that a king can

do no wrong; and that, committing the vilest crimes to sully his mind,

his person still remains sacred?—Who will dare to assert, that the

priest, who takes advantage of the dying fears of a vicious man, to

cheat his heirs, is not more despicable than a highwayman?—or that

obedience to parents should go one jot beyond the deference due to

reason, enforced by affection?—And who will coolly maintain, that it is

just to deprive a woman, not to insist on her being treated as an

outcast of society, of all the rights of a citizen, because her

revolting heart turns from the man, whom, a husband only in name, and by

the tyrannical power he has over her person and property, she can

neither love nor respect, to find comfort in a more congenial or humane

bosom? These are a few of the leading prejudices, in the present

constitution of society, that blast the blossoms of hope, and render

life wretched and useless—And, when such were tolerated, nay, reckoned

sacred, who can find more than doubtful traces of the perfection of man

in a system of association pervaded with such abuses? Voluptuousness

alone softened the character down to tenderness of heart; and as taste

was cultivated, peace was sought, rather because it was convenient, than

because it was just. But, when war could not be avoided, men were hired

by the rich to secure to them the quiet enjoyment of their luxuries; so

that war, become a trade, did not render ferocious all those who

directly, or indirectly waged it.

When, therefore, the improvements of civil life consisted almost

entirely in polishing the manners, and exercising the transient

sympathies of the heart, it is clear, that this partial civilization

must have worn itself out by destroying all energy of mind. And the

weakened character would then naturally fall back into barbarism,

because the highest degree of sensual refinement violates all the

genuine feelings of the soul, making the understanding the abject slave

of the imagination. But, when the advances of knowledge shall make

morality the real basis of social union, and not it’s shadow the mask of

selfishness, men cannot again lose the ground so surely taken, or forget

principles, though they may accomplishments.

And that a civilization founded on reason and morality is, in fact,

taking place in the world, will appear clear to all those, who have

considered the atrocious vices and gigantic crimes, that sullied the

polish of ancient manners. What nobleman, even in the states where they

have the power of life and death, after giving an elegant entertainment,

would now attract the detestation of his company, by ordering a domestic

to be thrown into a pond to fatten the fish.[21]—What tyrant would dare,

at this time, to poison his brother at his own table; or stab his

enemy’s mother, not to mention his own, without colouring over the deed?

and do not the exclamations against boxing matches, in England, also

prove, that the amphitheatre would not now be tolerated, much less

enjoyed? If the punishment of death be not yet abolished, tortures worse

than twenty deaths are exploded, merely by the melioration of manners. A

human being is not now forced to feed the lamp that consumes him; or

allowed vainly to call for death, whilst the flesh is pinched off his

quivering limbs. Are not, likewise, many of the vices, that formerly

braved the face of day, now obliged to lurk, like beasts of prey, in

concealment, till night allows them to roam at large. And the odium

which now forces several vices, that then passed as merely the play of

the imagination, to hide their heads, may chase them out of society,

when justice is common to all, and riches no longer stand in the place

of sense and virtue. Granting then to the ancients that savage grandeur

of imagination, which, clashing with humanity, does not exclude

tenderness of heart, we should guard against paying that homage to

sentiment, only due to principles formed by reason.

Their tragedies, this is still but a cultivation of the passions and the

taste, have been celebrated and imitated servilely; yet, touching the

heart, they corrupted it; for many of the fictions, that produced the

most striking stage effect, were absolutely immoral. The sublime

terrour, with which they fill the mind, may amuse, nay, delight; but

whence comes the improvement? Besides, uncultivated minds are the most

subject to feel astonishment, which is often only another name for

sublime sensations. What moral lesson, for example, can be drawn from

the story of Oedipus, the favourite subject of such a number of

tragedies?—The gods impel him on, and, led imperiously by blind fate,

though perfectly innocent, he is fearfully punished, with all his

hapless race, for a crime in which his will had no part.

Formerly kings and great men openly despised the justice they violated;

but, at present, when a degree of reason, at least, regulates

governments, men find it necessary to put a gloss of morality on their

actions, though it may not be their spring. And even the jargon of crude

sentiments, now introduced into conversation, shows to what side leans

vanity, the true thermometer of the times.—An affectation of humanity is

the affectation of the day; and men almost always affect to possess the

virtue, or quality, that is rising into estimation.

Formerly a man was safe only in one civilized patch of the globe, and

even there his life hung by a thread. Such were the sudden vicissitudes,

which, keeping the apprehension on the stretch, warmed the imagination,

that clouded the intellect. At present a man may reasonably expect to be

allowed tranquilly to follow any scientific pursuit; and when the

understanding is calmly employed, the heart imperceptibly becomes

indulgent. It is not the same with the cultivation of the arts. Artists

have commonly irritable tempers; and, inflaming their passions as they

warm their fancy, they are, generally speaking, licentious; acquiring

the manners their productions tend to spread abroad, when taste, only

the refinement of weakened sensations, stifles manly ardour.

Taste and refined manners, however, were swept away by hordes of

uncivilized adventurers; and in Europe, where some of the seeds

remained, the state of society slowly meliorating itself till the

seventeenth century, nature seemed as much despised in the arts, as

reason in the sciences. The different professions were much more knavish

than at present, under the veil of solemn stupidity. Every kind of

learning, as in the savage state, consisted chiefly in the art of

tricking the vulgar, by impressing them with an opinion of powers, that

did not exist in nature—The priest was to save their souls without

morality; the physician to heal their bodies without medicine; and

justice was to be administered by the immediate interposition of

heaven:—all was to be done by a charm. Nothing, in short, was founded on

philosophical principles; and the amusements being barbarous, the

manners became formal and ferocious. The cultivation of the mind,

indeed, consisted rather in acquiring languages, and loading the memory

with facts, than in exercising the judgment; consequently, reason

governed neither law, nor legislation; and literature was equally devoid

of taste. The people were, strictly speaking, slaves; bound by feudal

tenures, and still more oppressive ecclesiastical restraints; the lord

of the domain leading them to slaughter, like flocks of sheep; and the

ghostly father drawing the bread out of their mouths by the idlest

impositions. The croisades, however, freed many of the vassals; and the

reformation, forcing the clergy to take a new stand, and become more

moral, and even wiser, produced a change of opinion, that soon appeared

in humanizing the manners, though not in improving the different

governments.

But whilst all Europe was enslaved, suffering under the caprice or

tyranny of despots, whose pride and restless ambition continually

disturbed the tranquillity of their neighbours; the britons, in a great

degree, preserved the liberty that they first recovered. This singular

felicity was not more owing to the insular situation of their country,

than to their spirited efforts; and national prosperity was the reward

of their exertions. Whilst, therefore, englishmen were the only free

people in existence, they appear to have been not only content, but

charmed with their constitution; though perpetually complaining of the

abuses of their government. It was then very natural, in such an

elevated situation, for them to contemplate with graceful pride their

comparative happiness; and taking for granted, that it was the model of

perfection, they never seem to have formed an idea of a system more

simple, or better calculated to promote and maintain the freedom of

mankind.

That system, so ingenious in theory, they thought the most perfect the

human mind was capable of conceiving; and their contentions for it’s

support contributed more to persuade them, that they actually possessed

an extensive liberty, and the best of all possible governments, than to

secure the real possession. However, if it had no specific basis beside

magna charta, till the habeas corpus act passed; or before the

revolution of 1688, but the temper of men; it is a sufficient

demonstration, that it was a government resting on principles emanating

from the consent, if not from the sense of the nation.

Whilst liberty had been consumed by the lascivious pleasures of the

citizens of Venice and Genoa;—corroded in Switzerland by a mercenary

aristocracy;—entombed in the dykes of the covetous Hollanders;—driven

out of Sweden by an association of the nobles;—and hunted down in

Corsica by the ambition of her neighbours;—France was insensible to her

value;—Italy, Spain, and Portugal, cowering under a contemptible

bigotry, which sapped the remains of the rude liberty they had enjoyed,

formed no political plans;—and all Germany was not only enslaved, and

groaning beneath the weight of the most insulting civil tyranny, but

it’s shackles were riveted by a redoubtable military phalanx.—Despotism,

in fact, had existed in that vast empire for a greater length of time

than in any other country;—whilst Russia stretched out her arms with

mighty grasp, embracing Europe and Asia. Sullen as the amphibious bear

of the north; and so chilled by her icy regions, as to be insensible to

the charms of social life, she threatened alternate destruction to every

state in her vicinity. Huge in her projects of ambition, as her empire

is extensive, the despotism of her court seems as insatiable, as the

manners of her boors are barbarous.—Arrived at that stage of

civilization, when the grandeur and parade of a palace are mistaken for

the improvement of manners, and the false glory of desolating provinces

for wisdom and magnanimity, the tzarina would sooner have abandoned her

favourite plan of imitating the conduct of Peter the great, in labouring

to civilize her kingdom, than have allowed freedom to find a firm seat

in her dominions to assist her. She has vainly endeavoured, indeed, to

make the sweet flowers of liberty grow under the poisonous shade of

despotism; giving the russians a false taste for the luxuries of life

before the attainment of it’s conveniences. And this hasty attempt to

alter the manners of a people has produced the worst effect on their

morals: mixing the barbarism of one state of society, deprived of it’s

sincerity and simplicity, with the voluptuousness of the other, void of

elegance and urbanity, the two extremes have prematurely met.

Thus pursued and mistaken, liberty, though still existing in the small

island of England, yet continually wounded by the arbitrary proceedings

of the british ministry, began to flap her wings, as if preparing for a

flight to more auspicious regions—And the anglo-americans having carried

with them to their place of refuge the principles of their ancestors,

she appeared in the new world with renovated charms, and sober matron

graces.

Freedom is, indeed, the natural and imprescriptible right of man;

without the enjoyment of which, it is impossible for him to become

either a reasonable or dignified being. Freedom he enjoys in a natural

state, in it’s full extent: but formed by nature for a more intimate

society, to unfold his intellectual powers, it becomes necessary, for

carrying into execution the main objects, which induces men to establish

communities, that they should surrender a part of their natural

privileges, more effectually to guard the most important. But from the

ignorance of men, during the infancy of society, it was easy for their

leaders, by frequent usurpations, to create a despotism, which choking

up the springs that would have invigorated their minds, they seem to

have been insensible to the deprivations under which they lived; and

existing like mere animals, the tyrants of the world have continued to

treat them only as machines to promote their purposes.

In the progress of knowledge, which however was very tardy in Europe,

because the men who studied were content to see nature through the

medium of books, without making any actual experiments themselves, the

benefits of civil liberty began to be better understood: and in the same

proportion we find the chains of despotism becoming lighter. Still the

systematizing of pedants, the ingenious fallacy of priests, and the

supercilious meanness of the literary sycophants of courts, who were the

distinguished authors of the day, continued to perplex and confound the

understandings of unlettered men. And no sooner had the republics of

Italy risen from the ashes of the roman jurisprudence, than their

principles were attacked by the apostles of Machiavel, and the efforts

made for the revival of freedom were undermined by the insidious tenets

which he gave to his prince.

The arts, it is true, were now recovering themselves, patronized by the

family of the Medicis: but the sciences, that is, whatever claimed the

appellation, had still to struggle with aristotelean prejudices; till

Descartes ventured to think for himself; and Newton, following his

example, explained the laws of motion and gravity, displaying the

mechanism of the universe with wonderful perspicacity; for the analysis

of ideas, which has since diffused such light through every branch of

knowledge, was not before this period applied even to mathematics. The

extension of analytical truths, including political, which at first were

only viewed as splendid theories, now began to pervade every part of

Europe; stealing into the very seminaries of learning in Germany, where

formerly scholastic, dry theology, laborious compilations of the

wanderings of the human understanding, and minute collations of the

works of the ancients, had consumed the fervour of youth, and wasted the

patience of age. The college and the court are always connected:—and

literature beginning to attract the attention of several of the petty

sovereigns of the empire, they were induced to patronize those daring

men who were persecuted by the public for attacking religious or

political prejudices; and allowing them an asylum at their courts, they

acquired a relish for their conversation. The amusements of the chace

then yielding to the pleasures of colloquial disquisition on subjects of

taste and morals, the ferocity of northern despotism began imperceptible

to wear away, and the condition of it’s slaves to become more tolerable.

Education, in particular, has been studied; and the rational modes of

instruction in useful knowledge, which are taking place of the exclusive

attention formerly paid to the dead languages, promise to render the

germans, in the course of half a century, the most enlightened people in

Europe. Whilst their simplicity of manners, and honesty of heart are in

a great degree preserved, even as they grow more refined, by the

situation of their country; which prevents that inundation of riches by

commercial sources, that destroys the morals of a nation before it’s

reason arrives at maturity.

Frederic the IId of Prussia, with the most ardent ambition, was

nevertheless as anxious to acquire celebrity as an author, as he was

fame as a soldier. By writing an examination of Machiavel’s Prince, and

the encouragement he gave to literary talents and abilities, he

contributed very much to promote the acquirement of knowledge in his

dominions; whilst, by granting his confidence to the philosophical

Hertzberg, the administration of his government grew considerably

milder.

His splendid reputation as a soldier continued to awe the restless

ambition of the princes of the neighbouring states, which afforded an

opportunity to the inhabitants of the empire to follow, during the reign

of tranquillity, those literary pursuits, which became fashionable even

at the half civilized court of Petersbourg. It now, indeed, appeared

certain, that Germany would gain in future important political

advantages; for men were beginning to presume to think, and scanned the

conduct of the supercilious Joseph with freedom, treating his vanity

with contempt.

It is by thus teaching men from their youth to think, that they will be

enabled to recover their liberty; and useful learning is already so far

advanced, that nothing can stop it’s progress:—I say peremptorily

nothing; for this is not the era hesitatingly to add, short of

supernatural events. And though the unjustifiable proceeding of the

english courts of justice, or rather of the arbitrary chief judge

Mansfield, who established it as a law precedent, that the greater the

truth the greater the libel, tended materially to prevent the authors of

the american war from being attacked for those tyrannical steps, that

ultimately tended to stop the progress of knowledge and the

dissemination of political truth; yet the clamour which was raised

against that unpopular war is a proof, that, if justice slept, liberty

of thought had not forsaken the island.

The overweening presumption, however, of men ignorant of true political

science; who beheld a nation prosperous beyond example, whilst all the

neighbouring states were languishing, and knew not how to account for

it; foolishly endeavouring to preserve this prosperity, by mad attempts

to throw impediments in the way of those very principles, which had

raised Great Britain to the elevated rank she has attained in Europe,

served only to accelerate their diffusion. And France being the first

among the nations on the continent, that had arrived at a civilization

of manners, which they have termed the only art of living, we find was

the first to throw off the yoke of her old prejudices.

It was at this crisis of things, that the despotism of France was

completely overturned, and twenty-five millions of human beings unloosed

from the odious bands, which had for centuries benumbed their faculties,

and made them crouch under the most ignominious servitude—And it now

remains to observe the effect of this important revolution, which may

fairly be dated from the taking of the Bastille.

AN

HISTORICAL AND MORAL VIEW

OF THE

FRENCH REVOLUTION.

_BOOK III._

CHAPTER I.

A DEPUTATION OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY ARRIVES AT PARIS. BAILLIE CHOSEN

MAYOR, AND LA FAYETTE COMMANDER IN CHIEF OF THE NATIONAL GUARDS.

RESIGNATION OF THE MINISTRY. NECKER RECALLED. THE KING VISITS PARIS.

CHARACTER OF THE PARISIANS. THE REVOLUTION URGED ON PREMATURELY.

EMIGRATIONS OF SEVERAL OF THE NOBILITY AND OTHERS. CALONNE ADVISES THE

FRENCH PRINCES TO STIR UP FOREIGN POWERS AGAINST FRANCE. FOULON KILLED.

The presence of the deputies had diffused throughout the capital the

most intoxicating joy—for where is joy expressed with such infantile

playfulness, such entire forgetfulness of to-morrow, as at Paris? and

the citizens, with their usual burst of gratitude, which always

resembles adoration, made choice of Baillie, the first acting president

of the national assembly, for mayor, and of La Fayette for commander in

chief of the national guards: the name now given to the

_garde-bourgeoise_, and the other soldiers incorporated with them. But

the rapture of the parisians, as transient as lively, dwindled, as their

spirits were exhausted, into the murmurs of suspicion.—The ministry,

said they, who were chosen to depress us, are not yet dismissed; and the

troops, that were to have been their instruments of mischief, still

hover round Paris, and are even augmented by the arrival of two fresh

regiments at St. Denis. A rumour was spread, that a convoy of flour had

been intercepted by the order of the ministers, in it’s way to Paris;

and some disturbances at the Bastille had given colour to a report, that

they had attempted to make themselves once more masters of this

important fortress. The night of the 15th was then another devoted to

watchfulness and anxiety; and in the morning a deputation was sent to

the national assembly, praying them to demand the dismission of the

present ministry, and the recall of Necker.

The assembly took the subject into deliberation; but still attentive to

_etiquette_, they debated about the decorum of interfering with the

appointment of the executive power. This roused the genius of Mirabeau;

and the bubbles of fear, and the straw-like objections of timidity, were

carried away by the torrent of his eloquence. The discussion grew warm;

yet for the present occasion soon became of little importance, because

the ministry, finding that they could not stand the brunt of the storm,

resigned; Necker also, in whom the public had still the most implicit

confidence, was invited to return;—and the king, appearing to be anxious

to give every proof of his desire to establish general tranquillity,

signified, that he wished to visit Paris. A short time after they were

officially informed that the troops were promptly removing to more

distant quarters. The national assembly accordingly sent some of their

members to communicate to the parisians this welcome intelligence, to

prepare for the reception of the king by calming the fears of the

people.

And he, adhering to his purpose, left Versailles the next day (the

17th), though his family ridiculously endeavoured to dissuade him;

insinuating, that he ought not to trust his sacred person to the mercy

of an enraged multitude; whilst rumours of projected assassinations were

repeated before him, with exaggerated comments. But, being a man of

considerable animal courage, and now almost perceiving, that all the

evils with which he was struggling had been produced by his headstrong

advisers, he seemed determined, at least for the present, not to be

governed by their dangerous councils. And he had even the sagacity to

foresee, that, convulsed as the kingdom was, they would occasion a civil

war, and his life might then be still more exposed. In this instance, as

we shall find in many others, Louis appears to have been directed by a

kind of glimmering instinct of propriety; for at the present juncture it

was particularly discreet, considering the little effect the pageantry

of the court had produced at the _séance royale_, to meet the people

without the parade of robes or guards. And, in fact, the hundred

deputies who followed him, were now the only retinue that would have

appeared respectable in the eyes of the people. What too must have been

his surprise, in spite of all he had heard, to pass through an immense

avenue of armed parisians with such a new aspect.—Till now he had always

seen a timid multitude flying before the watch, giving vent to their

vengeance in vain songs, and to their grief in feeble murmurs:—to-day he

saw them triumphant, moving orderly along, calling out on every side,

during the procession, for a constitution and laws! marching in unison

with their reflections, they advanced, but slowly; for, almost afraid to

hope, they proceeded with the measured step of thought, or rather

sadness; and the people, whose mind was still agitated, as the swell of

the sea continues after the storm has subsided, uttered not the shout of

gladness—_vive le roi_;—but the menacing memento—_vive la nation_.

This was as ominous a sound, as the woe! woe! resounding through the

silent streets of a besieged city—for it was equally the voice of fate,

proclaiming the will of the people, disgusted with courts, and

suspicious even of the king. Louis seems to have been forcibly struck by

the energy every where displayed; and not more by the eloquent

discourses addressed to him at the hôtel-de-ville, than by the

countenance of each citizen: for the fire of liberty had already lighted

up in every face the serene lustre of manly firmness.—So impressed,

indeed, was his mind by the whole scene, that, when the animated

speakers were silent, he exclaimed in reply—‘My people! my people, may

always rely on my love.’—And taking the national cockade from the hands

of the mayor, he appeared at the window with his heart in his eyes, as

if eager to convince the multitude of his sincerity: and perhaps

conscious, that, first submitting to necessity, he now yielded to

feeling. At these words, the repetition of which flew like lightning

from rank to rank, the whole concourse of people caught the electrical

sympathy.—_Vive le roi_ was shouted from every quarter; and revived

affection glowed with the fresh fervour, that effaces the remembrance of

doubts, and makes the fear of having been unjust, the most powerful

spring of tenderness. And persuading themselves, for the moment, that

the disposition of the king was not so much at variance with their

happiness as his conduct, they poured blessings on him, bestowing all

their execrations on his counsellors.

Pleasure, now almost mounting to a feverish height, set all Paris

quickly in motion; and the sound of the thundering artillery was the

swift harbinger of the tidings of reconciliation to Versailles, where

the royal family must have been anxiously alive to the events of the

day.

These sudden transitions from one extreme to another, without leaving

any settled conviction behind, to confirm or eradicate the corroding

distrust, could not be seen in such a strong light any where as at

Paris, because there a variety of causes have so effeminated reason,

that the french may be considered as a nation of women; and made feeble,

probably, by the same combination of circumstances, as has rendered

these insignificant. More ingenious than profound in their researches;

more tender than impassioned in their affections; prompt to act, yet

soon weary; they seem to work only to escape from work, and to reflect

merely how they shall avoid reflection. Indolently restless, they make

the elegant furniture of their rooms, like their houses, voluptuously

handy. Every thing, in short, shows the dexterity of the people, and

their attention to present enjoyment.

And so passive appears to be their imagination, it requires to be roused

by novelty; and then, more lively than strong, the evanescent emotions

scarcely leave any traces behind them. From being devoted to pleasure in

their youth, old age is commonly passed in such merely animal

gratifications, that a respectable looking aged man or woman is very

rarely to be seen. Independent, likewise, of the vanity which makes them

wish to appear polite, at the very moment they are ridiculing a person,

their great susceptibility of disposition leads them to take an interest

in all the sensations of others, which are forgotten almost as soon as

felt. And these transient gusts of feeling prevent their forming those

firm resolves of reason, that, bracing the nerves, when the heart is

moved, make sympathy yield to principles, and the mind triumph over the

senses.

Besides, the climate of France is so genial, and the blood mounted so

cheerily in the veins, even of the oppressed common people, that, living

for the day, they continually basked in the sunshine, which broke from

behind the heavy clouds that hung over them.

It is impossible, after tracing the horrid conspiracy formed by the

court against the lives and liberty of the people, not to feel the most

ineffable contempt for that kind of government, which leaves the

happiness of a nation at the mercy of a capricious minister of state.

The awful and interesting lesson, which the developement of this

treachery afforded, was such as ought to have made an indelible

impression on their minds.—It was a lesson, the very thought of which

stops for a moment the genial current of the heart.—It was a lesson,

that should be repeated to mankind, to bring home to their very senses a

conviction of the lengths to which a depraved and absolute government

will go, for the sake of holding fast it’s power.—It was, in short, a

deduction of experience, which will teach posterity that life, and every

thing dear to man, can be secured only by the preservation of liberty.

The want of decision in the character of Louis seems to have been the

foundation of all his faults, as well as of all his misfortunes; and

every moment fresh occasions to make the observation arise as we trace

his misconduct, or compassionate his situation.

To give a striking instance, it is only necessary to turn our attention

to the fatal effects that flowed from his consenting to assemble an army

of foreigners, to intimidate the states-general. He could not resist the

court, who counselled this measure; or silence the misgivings of his

heart, which made him averse to the troops taking any decisive step,

that might lead to slaughter. And still governed by these undisciplined

feelings, when he dismissed the army, he pursued the advice of the very

cabal, that had led him into this errour; giving way to the wishes of

the people, yet dissembling with them even in the act of reconciliation.

Thus, for ever wavering, it is difficult to mark any fixt purpose in his

actions; excepting that which does him honour—the desire to prevent the

shedding of blood. This principle has, in general, directed his conduct;

though the short-sighted measures of timid humanity, devoid of strength

of mind, turned all his efforts to a very contrary effect.

From the presence of these troops, and their abortive attempt to crush

liberty in the egg, the shell was prematurely broken, and the enthusiasm

of frenchmen excited before their judgment was in any considerable

degree formed. Intoxicated by conquest, each began to descant on the

existing abuses, to show his own cleverness in pointing out the remedy;

and arms being once in the hands of the people, it was difficult to

persuade them to give them up for the occupations of peace. It is true,

had the national assembly been allowed quietly to have made some

reforms, paving the way for more, the Bastille, though tottering on it’s

dungeons, might yet have stood erect.—And, if it had, the sum of human

misery could scarcely have been increased. For the _guillotine_ not

finding it’s way to the splendid square it has polluted, streams of

innocent blood would not have flowed, to obliterate the remembrance of

false imprisonment, and drown the groans of solitary grief in the loud

cry of agony—when, the thread of life quickly cut in twain, the

quivering light of hope is instantly dashed out—and the billows suddenly

closing, the silence of death is felt!—This tale is soon told.—We hear

not of years languished away in misery, whilst dissolution by inches

palsies the frame, or disturbs the reason: yet, who can estimate the sum

of comfort blasted; or tell how many survivors pine the prey of an

imagination distracted by sorrow?

The character of the french, indeed, had been so depraved by the

inveterate despotism of ages, that even amidst the heroism which

distinguished the taking of the Bastille, we are forced to see that

suspicious temper, and that vain ambition of dazzling, which have

generated all the succeeding follies and crimes. For, even in the most

public-spirited actions, celebrity seems to have been the spur, and the

glory, rather than the happiness of frenchmen, the end.—This observation

inforces the grand truth on mankind, that without morality there can be

no great strength of understanding, or real dignity of conduct. The

morals of the whole nation were destroyed by the manners formed by the

government.—Pleasure had been pursued, to fill up the void of rational

employment; and fraud combined with servility to debase the

character;—so that, when they changed their system, liberty, as it was

called, was only the acme of tyranny—merely with this difference, that,

all the force of nature being roused, the magnitude of the evil

promised, by some mighty concussion, to effect it’s own cure.

The reunion of the king and people not only routed, but terrified, the

cabal; and as cowardly in adversity, as presumptuous in prosperity, they

immediately took to flight different ways, and even disguised. One man,

who had long been obnoxious to the people on account of inordinate

covetousness, and, vulgar tyranny, not softened by the graceful

condescension of the nobility, caused it to be reported, that he was

dead. The renowned mareschal Broglio sought an asylum at Luxemburgh,

whilst madame Polignac fled to Basle. Thus went into exile an amiable

woman, who had been the instrument of the ambition of a family, that

rapaciously availed themselves of her great favour with the queen, whose

strange predilection for handsome women blighted the reputation of every

one, whom she distinguished.

The count d’Artois, with several others of the blood royal and principal

nobility, likewise thought it prudent to leave the kingdom for the

present; either to provide for their safety, or to seek vengeance. At

Brussels they met the unquiet Calonne, who, having heard of the

dismission of Necker, was lured back by the first glimpse of hope. For

wishing to wipe away the indignity, which he had so impatiently brooked;

and fondly believing, that the army had had sufficient time to quash the

verbal disputes of the nation; he was hastening towards France, to be

ready to come in for his share of the triumph.

To his country this meeting has proved a source of evil, that could only

have been hatched in such an unprincipled brain, fertile in plans of

mischief, and prone to puzzle the cause which he wanted force to

subvert. His last effort for power had been to obtain a seat in the

states-general. And, had not the remembrance of his former

administration stood in his way, it is probable he would have succeeded,

and there have become a flaming patriot, could he have been the leader

of a party; for he possessed the showy talents necessary to procure

instantaneous applause in a popular assembly—a deceiving, rather than a

commanding eloquence. Mirabeau, on the contrary, seems to have had from

nature a strong perception of a dignified propriety of conduct; and

truth appearing to give earnestness to his arguments, his hearers were

compelled to agree with him out of respect to themselves. Leaving then

plausibility far behind, he always stood forth as the sturdy champion of

reason; even when, laying down his club, he loitered to dally with the

imagination. Whilst therefore Mirabeau was teaching the national

assembly dignity[22], the resentment of the vain-glorious Calonne,

sharpened to the keenest edge by disappointment, made him suggest to

those crest-fallen princes, the necessity of engaging foreign aid, to

reinstate the king in his former plenitude of power, and to heal their

wounded pride. Unfortunately, the plausibility of his manners, and the

ingenuity of his arguments, awakened their fears, and nourished their

prejudices; and quickly persuaded to assert what they wished to believe,

they protested against the conduct of the national assembly;

insinuating, that the body of the people did not support their

pretensions. The delusion, however, did not rest here; for he even

convinced them, that, if the appeal made to the national honour of the

french did not recall crowds to their chivalrous allegiance, it would

not be a difficult task to engage all the powers of Europe in behalf of

his most christian majesty, by showing them, that, if freedom were once

established in France, it would soon extend beyond it’s confines,

bounding over the Alps and Pyrenees.

Such are the opposite sentiments, or rather conduct of court parasites,

and men struggling to be free, that it is sufficient to contrast them.

The deputies, whose lives had been threatened, and their persons grossly

insulted, not only excused the ill advised monarch for the countenance

which he had given to the violation of the most sacred principles; but

expressed a conciliatory disposition to all parties. The mob, it is

true, in the heat of rage, inhumanly butchered two of the vile

instruments of despotism. But this violence offered to justice ought not

to be attributed to the temper of the people, much less to the

connivance of the national assembly, who acted with a degree of

magnanimity, at this time, of which it can never be enough lamented that

they have since lost sight. The behaviour however of the hardened

children of oppression in all countries is the same; whether in the

amphitheatre at Rome, or around the lantern-post in Paris.

The king’s eldest brother alone remained with the court, a man with more

resources of understanding in himself, than the rest of his family; yet,

making it a point of honour to be treated like his younger brother the

count d’Artois, he contributed by his rapacity to drain the royal

treasure, though such an expensive variety of amusements was not

necessary to give a zest to his pleasures.

The noble depredators had now escaped; yet Foulon, the minister, the

most desperate and pusillanimous of the gang, was taken, in spite of his

mock funeral.—I purposely use the word gang; for a squeamish delicacy

with respect to terms makes us sometimes confound characters to such a

degree, that the great villain is not stigmatized with the epithet

associated with the idea of a gallows; because, by the grossest

subversion of reason, the aggravation of guilt has so palliated the

punishments, that the head, which would have disgraced a halter, has

been respectfully severed on a block.

Once seized, no authority could prevent the murder of this miserable

wretch; and the same evening the intendant of Paris, his son-in-law, met

a death still more shocking, being prolonged by the humane interposition

of the respectable mayor, and La Fayette, in his favour.

Strange, that a people, who often leave the theatre before the

catastrophe, should have bred up such monsters! Still we ought to

recollect, that the sex, called the tender, commit the most flagrant

acts of barbarity when irritated.—So weak is the tenderness produced

merely by sympathy, or polished manners, compared with the humanity of a

cultivated understanding. Alas!—It is morals, not feelings, which

distinguish men from the beasts of prey! These were transactions, over

which, for the honour of human nature, it were to be wished oblivion

could draw the winding-sheet, that has often enwrapped a heart, whose

benevolence has been felt, but not known. But, if it be impossible to

erase from the memory these foul deeds, which, like the stains of

deepest dye revived by remorse in the conscience, can never be rubbed

out—why dwell circumstantially on the excesses that revolt humanity, and

dim the lustre of the picture, on which the eye has gazed with rapture,

often obliged to look up to heaven to forget the misery endured on

earth? Since, however, we cannot ‘out the damned spot,’ it becomes

necessary to observe, that, whilst despotism and superstition exist, the

convulsions, which the regeneration of man occasions, will always bring

forward the vices they have engendered, to devour their parents.

Servility, destroying the natural energy of man, stifles the noblest

sentiments of the soul.—Thus debased, heroic actions are merely directed

by the head, and the heart drops not into them it’s balm, more precious

than the trees of Arabia ever distilled! Ought we then to wonder, that

this dry substitute for humanity is often burnt up by the scorching

flame of revenge? This has now actually been the case; for there has

been seen amongst the french a spurious race of men, a set of cannibals,

who have gloried in their crimes; and tearing out the hearts that did

not feel for them, have proved, that they themselves had iron bowels.

‘But, if the anger of the people be terrible,’ exclaims Mirabeau, ‘it is

the sang froid of despotism, that is atrocious; those systematic

cruelties, which have made more wretches in a day than the popular

insurrections have immolated in a course of years![23] We often fear,’

adds he, ‘the people, because we have injured them; and thus are forced

to fetter those we oppress.’

The example of the capital was followed by the provinces; and all the

citizens flew to arms, whilst the soldiers grounded their’s, swearing

not to stain their hands with the blood of their fellow citizens. Added

to the account of the conspiracy to dissolve the states-general, and

massacre their representatives, a number of idle rumours of present

danger tended to make the country people not only eager to guard against

they scarcely knew what, but also desirous to enter into the adventures,

and share the honours of the parisians.

In all civil wars, personal vengeance mixing with public, or taking

advantage of it, has directed the dagger of the assassin: and in France

it ought particularly to have been dreaded; because, when fear induces a

man to smother his just resentment, the festering wound is only to be

cured by revenge. It is then highly probable, that most of the

barbarities in the towns were the effervescence of private anger, or the

sport of depraved, uncultivated minds, who found the same pleasure in

tormenting men, as mischievous boys in dismembering insects; for public

indignation, directed against aristocratical tyranny, was elsewhere, in

general, displayed only in burning the country castles, and the archives

of nobility. But, in the country, indeed, men rarely commit such crimes,

as lift up their reptile heads in the capital, where the rank atmosphere

affords the noxious particles necessary to give virulence to the poison.

The vices of villagers are, in fact, rather the rich exuberance of the

passions, than the vile dregs of exhausted nature.

CHAPTER II.

THE DUKE OF LIANCOURT CHOSEN PRESIDENT. THE PEOPLE ARM FOR THE DEFENCE

OF THE COUNTRY. THE MUNICIPAL OFFICERS APPOINTED UNDER THE OLD

GOVERNMENT SUPERSEDED BY COMMITTEES. SOME PEOPLE TREACHEROUSLY DESTROYED

BY SPRINGING A MINE AT A CIVIC FEAST. THE GENEVESE RESIDENT TAKEN UP BY

THE PATROL. THE FRENCH SUSPICIOUS OF THE DESIGNS OF BRITAIN. NECKER

RETURNS. GENERAL AMNESTY RESOLVED BY THE ELECTORS OF PARIS. DEBATE ON A

DECLARATION OF RIGHTS. DECLARATION OF RIGHTS SEPARATE FROM THE

CONSTITUTION DETERMINED ON. SACRIFICES MADE BY THE NOBLES, CLERGY, &C.

The duke of Liancourt, whose warning voice had made the king look around

him, when danger was at his heels, was now chosen president. At this

moment the obstacles, which at first clogged the exertions of the

assembly, seemed to have been overcome: still fresh ones starting up

threw a damp on their exultation; and the apprehensions of a famine,

real or factitious, were not the least alarming, though the most

frequent.

New conspiracies were already formed on the borders of France, by the

princes, and those who had subsisted by the corruptions of the old

system. But this only proved a stimulus; because the nation, being

determined to secure the rights it had so suddenly regained, raised new

regiments in every part of the country, and was soon in a situation to

repel any attack, which it was possible for all Germany to have made;

the only quarter from which the fugitive princes, at that period, could

expect assistance. So rapid was the spirit, so general the momentum,

that in the course of a week upwards of three millions of men in arms

were formed into companies by a common interest resembling an electrical

sympathy. Such was the quick succession of events—Such the unanimous

sense of the nation; and such the formidable force which instantly

opposed itself to the impotent threats of departing despotism. History

will record this memorable era, when the disciplined forces of the most

puissant tyranny vanished before the force of truth, though still but

half unveiled; obliging the haughty sycophants to search for shelter in

the recesses of a forest, whither they stole under cover of the night

from the presence of an injured people.

The conduct of the _garde-bourgeoise_, during the progress of the

revolution, without varnishing over the excesses produced by ebullitions

of zeal, is of itself sufficient to prove, that a national militia

should every where take place of standing armies, did not experience

invariably attest, that the laws were never respected by men, whose

business is war, unless they are reduced to mere machines by despotism.

The old municipal officers, mostly suspected, because nominated by the

friends of the court, were now obliged to give place to committees

elected by the common voice. These taking the administration of public

business into their hands, a new order of things began every where to

prevail. Still, however, the disturbed imagination of the people was

filled with plots, to which some mysterious and fatal incidents gave

life.

The municipality of Soissons informed the national assembly, that troops

of banditti had cut down the corn before it was ripe, and obliged the

villagers to take refuge in the towns. But on further inquiry, it

appeared, that this report arose from a simple quarrel of the peasants

amongst themselves, which had alarmed some labourers, who flew to the

neighbouring town, imagining that they had thousands of banditti at

their heels.

Paris was also disturbed by an idle rumour of a riot at St. Denis; so

seriously affirmed by those, who declared that they had been

eye-witnesses of the violence, that troops and cannon were sent, but

they could find no traces of the disturbance.

Another, more serious, had exasperated the people against the nobility,

and roused the indignation of the national assembly. A nobleman and

counsellor of the parliament gave a civic feast in his castle to the

inhabitants of his village; from which, on some pretext, he was absent.

All was joy and festivity; but in the midst of the dance of gladness,

the sudden explosion of a mine spread around affright and death.—Hearing

of this treachery, the people, catching up their rustic weapons,

firebrands, hastened to the neighbouring castles; some of which they

burnt, others they demolished by pulling them down.

The recital of this atrocity produced a great effect in the national

assembly; and, says Mirabeau, ‘though great assemblies are often much

too susceptible of theatrical emotions; and this narration was

accompanied with circumstances, of which the invention is seldom

presumed; and though it was also attested by a public officer; yet the

atrocity of the crime gave it an air of improbability.’ This wanton act

of barbarity, which the historian also would fain believe a monstrous

chimera of heated brains, was, nevertheless, as well substantiated, as

such a fact could be; which nothing, but the confession of the guilty

party, can render absolutely certain, because it seems equally foolish

and barbarous.

These disorders, warmly represented by Lally-Tolendal, determined the

assembly, on the 23d of july, to publish a proclamation, inviting all

good citizens to the maintenance of order; and declaring, that to try

and punish for all crimes of _leze-nation_ was the sole prerogative of

the national assembly, till, by the constitution which it was about to

establish, a regular tribunal should be instituted, for the trial of

such offences. After endeavouring to excuse the violence, or, more

properly speaking, to account for it, Mirabeau observed to the assembly,

‘that they ought to be thoroughly convinced, that the continuation of

this formidable dictator would expose liberty to as much risk as the

stratagems of her enemies. Society,’ he continues, ‘would soon be

dissolved, if the multitude, accustomed to blood and disorder, placed

themselves above the magistrates, and braved the authority of the law.

Instead of running to meet freedom, the people would soon throw

themselves into the abyss of servitude; for danger too often rallies men

round the standard of absolute power; and in the bosom of anarchy, a

despot even appears a saviour. For Carthage is not yet destroyed; there

remains a mass of instruments to impede our operations, and to excite

divisions in an assembly, that has only been united by danger.’

Some trifling incidents, swelled into importance by supposition, kept

alive the inventive mistrust of the nation, to which some innocent

victims were sacrificed, without allaying it’s brooding propensity to

produce, like jealousy, the evil it feared. Suspecting every body, and a

little vain of authority, the patroles of parisian citizens sometimes

officiously arrested whomever they thought fit, without assigning a

sufficient cause; and among the rest, they stopped the resident in

France from Geneva. Three letters were found on him; and one of them

being addressed to the count d’Artois, rendered suspicious the

circumstance of his tearing a fourth.

The letters were sent by the mayor of Paris to the assembly; and the

facts laid before them afforded Mirabeau an opportunity, to display his

eloquence on a subject, that recalled to his mind abuses, which had

formerly touched himself—the violation of private correspondence.—Though

this did not appear to be exactly the present question; for they were

not intercepted letters, but letters to which chance had annexed some

suspicious characters, to point them out for inspection. The despotism

of opening indiscriminately all letters, to enable the government to

judge of the character and sentiments of each individual, is too obvious

to need animadversion.—And who, indeed, will not exclaim against the

tyranny, be it even parental, that dares to steal into the secrets of

the heart; or the impertinent curiosity, that seeks for information only

to diversify an idle life? The latter may be termed petty larceny; yet

often the peace of whole families is invaded by these cowardly thefts,

and quarrels are rendered irreconcilable, by giving air to angry

expressions, the utterance solely of the passion of the moment. The

allowing letters, also, surreptitiously obtained, to appear as evidence,

in courts of justice, is a gross violation of the first principle of

law; because no letters can lawfully be opened, but as other suspected

things are sought for—after information given to a magistrate. But, when

seals are broken at the discretion of an individual, and brought forward

to criminate a person, it is to the full as unjust, as to make a man

plead against himself.—And for justice to be awarded in consequence of

an act of injustice, is an abuse that demands investigation. But the

present was not a case in point. It was not a clandestine ransacking of

all letters, to search for the clue of some suspected plot; or like the

reading of the correspondence of a babbling conspirator, after the

danger was over, whose letters might contain a list of timid

accomplices, who would be driven to desperation by publicity. However,

the decided turn was given to the question by the bishop of Langres

observing, that all ages had applauded the generosity of Pompey, who

committed to the flames the letters, which the senators had addressed to

Sertorius. The mania of imitating the romans on this began to appear,

producing one of those instances of false magnanimity, that always arise

from imitation: yet so trifling, indeed, in it’s present consequence,

that it would scarcely deserve to be ridiculed, much less censured, had

not the same affectation afterwards brought forth more serious and even

fatal follies.

The temper also of the parisians, who mix in the world very early in

life, leads them to imagine, that they have acquired the profound

knowledge of the springs of human passions, which enables a sagacious

man almost to foresee future events, only because they have often

detected the weaknesses of the human heart. This made them now suppose,

that the court of Great Britain was about to profit by their intestine

troubles. The phraseology had long been in both countries, that they

were the natural enemies of each other; and the mistrustful french

quickly imagined, that the english meant immediately to take vengeance

for their interference in favour of the americans, by seizing some of

their West-India islands. The duke of Dorset, in his justification of

England, only changed the object of mistrust, by giving rise to some

vague conjectures respecting a conspiracy for delivering Brest into the

hands of the english; and, as there was no clue to lead to the discovery

of the traitors, several nobles of Brittany, probably innocent, were

arrested.

These were, nevertheless, but slight impediments; for the invigorating

voice of the awakened nation gave energy to the assembly, who now named

committees to expedite the present business, preparatory to their grand

talk of framing a constitution. The authority and respectability of the

assembly being acknowledged, they attentively considered the state of

the kingdom; and, mindful of the present distress of the people, issued

orders for the free circulation of provision, which had been obstructed

by the ancient forms, so opposite to the true principles of political

economy.

At this juncture, Necker, still esteemed by the nation, unfortunately

returned. Intoxicated by popularity, this minister had not sufficient

prudence to decline the honours, which he could not support by that

dignity of conduct the present crisis required. In his way to Paris,

having heard, that the life of the baron de Benzenval, commandant of the

swiss guards, who had been with Broglio, was in danger, he humanely

interposed to stop the hand of violence; and so far he deserves praise.

But when, arrived at Paris, he was received, by the lively inhabitants,

as the tutelar genius of France, this apotheosis had it’s usual effect;

and assuming the demi-god, at the _Hôtel-de-Ville_, he was not content

to preserve this victim from the public fury, without recommending a

general amnesty; a measure which was as inconsiderately adopted, as

proposed. For the electors pretending to issue laws for the whole

nation, gave great umbrage to the parisians, who had winked at the

stretch of their power, which the pressing exigency of circumstances

required, during the moment danger menaced the capital. The wild current

thus turned, the men, who in the morning had declared, ‘that liberty was

safe, since Necker was allowed to watch over her,’ now accused him of

ambition, and a desire to keep well with the court, by facilitating the

return, or escape, of it’s minions. Such in fact was the inconstancy of

a people, always running after theatrical scenes, that the tocsin was

rung to denounce Necker as a courtier in one quarter of the city, at the

very time the _Palais Royal_ was illuminated to celebrate his return as

a patriot.

The business, however, being referred to the national assembly, with a

modifying explanation, they decided it mildly, paying the respect due to

the good intentions from which it proceeded, though they did not pretend

to sanction the hasty resolve of the electors.

After this tumult had subsided the narrow capacity of the minister did

not allow him to take a determined part in the grand work, in which the

deputies were engaged. His mind had not sufficient strength to burst the

shackles of it’s old opinions; and, acting with his usual commercial

calculations, he seems to have been one cause of the divisions, which

began to agitate an assembly, united rather by circumstances than by

sentiments. Besides, the sudden emancipation of the people occasioned a

delirium of joy, which required to be managed with the greatest

delicacy. A vigorous ministry was certainly necessary to check the

licentious spirit manifesting itself continually by acts of violence, in

so many parts of the kingdom, where tumults and assassinations were the

effects of the giddiness of unexpected success. Whilst complaining of

the old government, every man in his sphere seemed to be eager to try

how he himself could govern, and make up for the time he had delegated

his authority. Besides, the procrastination of the relief looked for as

the immediate consequence of the Revolution, however unavoidable, made

the people not only murmur, but, disregarding all reason, attempt to

gain more by force than could, for a long time, be granted by

justice—even had justice been unbiased by self-interest.

The nation called for a constitution; and the assembly debated about the

declaration of rights inherent to man, and those he gives up when he

becomes a citizen, on which they designed to rest it, as an explanatory

support.

Several members argued, that the declaration ought to conclude, and not

precede the constitution; insisting, that it was dangerous to awaken a

_somnambulist_ on the brink of a precipice; or to take a man to the top

of a mountain, to show him a vast country that belonged to him, but of

which he could not immediately claim the possession. ‘It is a veil,’

said they, ‘that it would be imprudent to raise suddenly.—It is a

secret, that it is necessary to conceal, till the effect of a good

constitution puts them into a situation to hear it with safety[24].’

But Barnave terminated the sitting, though the question was still in

debate, by observing, ‘that the declaration of rights was in two

respects practically useful;—first, as it fixed the spirit of the

legislation, in order that it might not vary in future;—and, secondly,

as it would direct the representatives of the nation in the formation of

laws, in all the details of legislation, the completion of which could

only be the work of time. As to the apprehension expressed of the people

abusing these rights, when they acquire a knowledge of them, it is,’

said he, ‘futile,—and we need only turn over the page of history, to

lose these vain fears; for we shall constantly find the people tranquil

in the same proportion as they are enlightened.’

Poizing thus the pillars of equal liberty, the discussion was the next

day interrupted by the report made by the committee appointed for the

purpose of digesting the information sent to the assembly, of the

melancholy intelligence which they daily received from the

provinces.—‘The taxes, the rents were no longer paid, the revenue was

exhausted, the laws were without force; and the social ties almost

broken.’ To remedy so many evils, the committee proposed to the assembly

to publish, as soon as possible, a solemn declaration to testify their

deep sense of the misery of the provinces, and their disapprobation of

the non-payment of taxes and rents; and to declare, that, till the

assembly had time to consider the decrees necessary to be passed to

regulate these objects, there did not exist any cause to justify similar

refusals. This proposition occasioned a warm debate.

Some of the deputies represented, that the feudal laws were too

iniquitous,—the taxes too unequally assessed—the wretchedness too

general, to hope for any happy effect from such a declaration—it would

soon fall into oblivion, as had done the proclamation for peace:—it

would aggravate the misery of the state, by manifesting the impotence of

the national assembly:—it would irritate even the people, who had need

of comfort; and of whom they could not, without a kind of derision, in

their present circumstances, require the payment of taxes, of which they

knew well that each of them felt the injustice.

Others did not fail to insist on the danger of letting the disorder

increase; on the sacredness of property; and on the immense _deficit_

with which the nation was menaced; adding, that the national assembly

would become contemptible, if it did not take the most vigorous

measures.—They further dilated on the necessity of re-establishing the

authority of the courts of justice;—and other arguments of the same

tendency, which would have been more conclusive, more useful, if the

supporters of the declaration had brought forward the shadow of a mode

to assure it’s execution. The debate from being warm became bitter, till

it was at length resolved, that a declaration should be issued for the

security of property, and that the remaining proposals of the committee

should be discussed the next evening, the 4th of august.

But, before they separated, the assembly was informed, that Broglio had

ordered all the arms, deposited at the town-house of Thionville, to be

carried away.—This step appeared to them the height of imprudence, at a

moment when the community was obliged to arm itself to watch over the

public safety.

The following morning it was decided by a great majority, that there

should be a declaration of rights separate from the constitution. The

sitting of the evening was impatiently expected, and the opposers of a

new proclamation flattered themselves, that they should secure the

general suffrage, by making it appear, that patriotism demanded great

sacrifices; and that instead of the vain formality of an exhortation,

soon despised by the people, it was necessary to carry real offerings to

the altar of peace.—This was the purport of a speech made by one of the

nobles, the viscount de Noailles; who showed, in a very forcible manner,

‘that the kingdom, at this moment, fluctuated between the alternative of

the destruction of society, or of a government which would be admired

and imitated by all Europe. How is this government to be obtained?’ said

he, ‘how are the relaxed ties of society to be strengthened? By calming

the people,’ he continues, ‘by letting them see, that we are really

employed for their good; and that we resist them only where it is

manifestly conducive to their interest, that they should be resisted,—To

attain then this tranquillity, so necessary, I propose:

‘1st. That it be declared, before the proclamation digested by the

committee, that the representatives of the nation have decided to levy

the impost, henceforward, in proportion to the income of each

individual.

‘2dly. That all the public charges shall, in future, be equally

supported by the whole community.

‘3dly, That all the feudal claims shall be redeemable, on a fair

valuation.

‘4thly, That all the manorial claims, the _mains-mortes_, and other

personal services, shall be done away, without any ransom.

‘5thly. That the manorial rents in poultry, and other kinds of

provision, shall be redeemable by the proprietor or contractor, at a

just valuation.’

The duke d’Aiguillon seconded this motion, which had been warmly

applauded; or rather made another tending to the same end. For dreading

the suppression of his pension, when the _Livre Rouge_ should be

reviewed, he suddenly, from being a minion of the old court, became a

loud patriot. And further to evince his zeal in the cause of liberty, he

declared, ‘that the insurrection sound it’s excuse in the vexations to

which the people were subject. The lords of manors,’ he observes,

‘seldom commit the excesses of which their vassals complain; but their

agents are often devoid of humanity, and the wretched husbandmen,

subject to the barbarous feudal laws still in force, groan under the

restriction to which they become the victims. At this happy era, when

united for the public good, and disengaged from all personal interest,

we are going to labour for the regeneration of the state, it seems to

me, gentlemen, that it is necessary, before establishing this

constitution, so desired by the nation, to prove to all the citizens,

that our intention is to establish, as soon as possible, that equality

of rights which alone can assure their liberty.’

It too frequently happens, that men run from one extreme to another, and

that despair adopts the most violent measures. The french people had

long been groaning under the lash of a thousand oppressions; they were

the hewers of wood, and drawers of water, for the chosen few. It was,

therefore, to be apprehended, after they had once thrown off the yoke,

which had imprinted on their character the hateful fears of servitude,

that they would expect the most unbridled freedom, detesting all

wholesome restraints, as reins they were not now bound to obey. From

observing, perhaps, that this was the disposition of the times, the

political empirics have continually inflamed the foibles of the

multitude, by flattering them. Thus the nobility, whose order would

probably lose most by the revolution, made the most popular motions, to

gain favour with the people; tickling the spirit they could not tame.

Thus also we have seen the desperate leaders of factions selecting

ingeniously the terms _sans-culottes_, _citoyen_, and _egalité_, in

order to cajole the minds of the vulgar; and hence it has happened,

that, in proportion as this cajolery was more highly seasoned, the power

of ruling has descended to the most desperate and impudent of the

smatterers in politics; whilst public anarchy, and private discord, have

been productive of the dreadful catastrophes, and wanton outrages, which

have given such home thrusts to the dignity of freedom.

The feudal claims that insult humanity, and show how near man is to the

brute creation when laws are first made, were afterwards attempted to be

enumerated; but a general cry of indignation and horrour prevented the

deputy from finishing the frightful picture of human debasement and

brutality. The vestiges of these direful oppressions, however, were

still held dear by these very men, who, not having the compass of

morality to direct their politics, were humane rather through weakness

of nerves than soundness of understanding.

Be this as it may, the motion of the viscount de Noailles excited a

sudden enthusiasm, mixed with anger. The members of the privileged

orders, like children, seemed to say, by their actions, if you force me

to give up this toy, it is fair that you should resign your

sugar-plumb.—One gave a blow in the face; and the retort courteous was a

back-handed stroke. For a member, that the duke d’Aiguillon should not

be generous at the expence of others, proposed the _immediate_

suppression of all places and emoluments granted so profusely by the

court, as the heaviest burthen of the people—because obliged to support

with their necessaries the luxuries of the great; who, detained as a

kind of guards at court, were not only prevented from enlivening the

provinces by their presence, but distressed them by drawing away their

produce. Distinguishing, however, between the pensions obtained by

intrigue, and those that were the reward of actual services,—he moved,

that the former should be suppressed, and the latter reduced.

A motion was then made, that not only feudal rights, but all the

jurisdiction of the lords of manors, established on the same arbitrary

ground, should be abolished.

The president now, according to rule, perceiving that no one attempted

to speak against the motion, was proceeding to put it to the vote—but he

paused, reproaching himself for attempting to put an end to such an

interesting discussion before such among the clergy, as wished to speak,

had had an opportunity of declaring their sentiments.

This artful compliment roused the bishop of Nancy to declare, ‘that, the

continual and sympathizing witnesses of the misery of the people, the

clergy undoubtedly sighed after an opportunity to contribute to their

relief; and that the motion anticipated their desire: yet, to show their

entire approbation of it, he must be permitted to propose in addition,

that the price of the ransom of ecclesiastical feudalities should not be

converted to the profit of the actual incumbent; but thrown into a fund

for the relief of the poorer part of the body.’

The bishop of Chartres, after approving of the sacrifices already made,

demanded, that the suppression of the game laws should be joined to

them. This worthy prelate painted the injustice of those laws, not less

absurd than oppressive, which force the farmer to be the tranquil

spectator of the ravages of his harvest; condemning him to endure cruel

punishments, if he follow the first impulse of nature, which would lead

him to kill the animals that injure him. A number of the nobility

concurred in these sentiments; for who would be outdone in heroism? and

demanded the renunciations of these unnatural privileges.

The president de Saint-Fargeau now rose, to demand an explanation

relative to the taxes of which the clergy and nobility offered to divide

the weight. ‘We have given,’ said he, ‘hopes to the people; but we ought

to give them something more substantial; we have decreed, that,

provisionally, the taxes should continue to be paid as they have been

hitherto; that is to say, we have reserved to the clergy and the

nobility the benefit of their exemptions, till they are expressly

revoked.—Why do we delay to pronounce this revocation, so strictly

imposed in almost all our instructions?—I propose, therefore, that not

only for the last six months, but from the very commencement of the

year, all privileged persons, without exception, support their

proportional part of the public impost.’

As the discussion of the propositions of the viscount de Noailles

advanced, the necessity of effacing all the traces of servitude became

more and more obvious; and all the members seemed eager to point out to

their colleagues the new sacrifices, that ought to be made to the good

of their country. One demanded the suppression of the exclusive right to

warrens;—another that of fisheries; a third the sale of offices, and

that justice should be administered gratuitously.

The parish priest of Soupes, in the name of his brethren, joined the

oblations of the poor to the hecatombs, of which the most part cost

nothing to those who proposed them; ‘he declared, that, animated by a

desire to contribute to the relief of the people, they would relinquish,

from the present time, all their casual (or surplice) fees.’ This offer,

made with great simplicity of heart, affected the assembly; nor could a

very different proposal, made by the duke du Châtelet, respecting the

buying up of the tithes, efface it entirely.

The transition to gaiety, when a member asked permission to offer also

his sparrow, was very natural in a people, who always mix a degree of

sarcastic pleasantry, the good-humoured face of which first appears,

with the most serious things. However, after the laughter ceased,—he

continued to make his demand more seriously, by observing, that an

object, trifling in appearance, was a real grievance to the husbandmen;

he moved, therefore, for the total demolition of all the _dove-cotes_

throughout the kingdom.

The respectable duke de la Rochefoucault, after having applauded all

these propositions, remarked, that the king had given the example of

freeing the serfs in his demesnes; and that the moment was come, to

extend this benefit to all the kingdom. This benevolent citizen did not

stop here; but added a wish, that, before the close of the sessions, the

assembly would take into consideration the fate of the unhappy victims

of covetousness, retained in slavery under another hemisphere.

A member now made a motion, that excited testimonies of the most sincere

satisfaction from the assembly; it was to augment the stipends of the

parish priests, the most respectable part of the clergy.

Several dignitaries of the church, possessing two or more benefices,

unwilling to be left behind in generosity, followed with a declaration,

that, conformable to the canons, they were resolved to limit themselves

to a single one.

The deputies of the provinces enjoying peculiar privileges receiving a

hint, that the appellation of french citizens, all partaking the same

rights, was the most glorious they could bear, immediately came forward

to renounce them. A number of propositions, more or less important,

brought up the rear. The suppression of the first fruits; the rights of

wardenship; and the abrogation of those barbarous vows, which fetter

unfortunate beings for life.—In short, full and entire liberty for the

non-catholics.—Admission of all the citizens into all offices,

ecclesiastical, civil, and military.—Abolition of the plurality of

ecclesiastical pensions.—And then, not forgetting their national

character, it was proposed, that a medal should be struck in

commemoration of this night[25]; and a decree also passed, conferring

gratuitously on the king the august title, it might savour of a style

that scarcely befits the dignity of history, to say _nick-name_, of

_RESTORER OF FRENCH LIBERTY_. A deputation was accordingly appointed to

carry this new mark of homage to the king, and to request his presence

at a solemn _Te Deum_, to be celebrated throughout the kingdom.—And

behold night closed on the renowned 4th of august!

It is not possible, says a journalist of the day, to give a distinct

description of the scenes which were continually shifting during this

sitting.—The vivacity of the sentiments, the quick transition from a

generous emotion to an epigrammatical sensation, the disorder which made

sensibility predominate over legislative dignity—the reciprocal

mistrust, and the combat of generosity—all diversified by the amiable

and seducing enthusiasm, so characteristic of the nation, made this an

epocha in the history of the revolution, on which the contemplative

mind, accustomed to consider the varied character of man, will ponder.

Another observation, also, naturally occurs; for it is just to remark,

as a proof of the crudeness of the political notions, not to mention

principles, of these legislators, that all talked of _sacrifices_, and

boasted of generosity, when they were only doing common justice, and

making the obvious practical comment on the declaration of rights, which

they had passed in the morning.—If such were the rights of man—they were

more or less than men, who withheld them; and the resignation, rather a

resumption of their reason than a sacrifice of their property, was

called for, the moment they acknowledged the sovereignty of the people

by becoming their representatives.

It is very possible, that the next morning the different parties could

scarcely believe, that they had more than the imperfect recollection of

a dream in their heads. So quick, indeed, had been the determinations of

the meeting, which encroached on the midnight hour, that they had not

the sober cast of thought to give them dignity. They seem in reality to

have been mostly the effect of passion, of ambition, or a vain desire of

vengeance; for those who were led only by enthusiasm, and the vanity of

the moment, esteemed their conduct as highly extravagant, when they had

time to cool. But the commons, who had the deepest views, knew to what

they had urged them, and would not let them recede.

It is true, the abolition of these privileges and powers had been

strictly enjoined, in the instructions given to the deputies by their

constituents; but, it is doubtful, whether they would have been attended

to, had not the most sagacious foreseen, that the neglect might occasion

a civil war. Knowing, that then property would not be cautiously

respected, they began by attacking that of their presumptuous

adversaries; and actually surprised the assembly into the unanimous

renunciation of all revenues arising from feudal dues, and even into the

abolition of tithes. The nobility, also, who saw, that they should gain

more by the suppression of tithes, than they should lose by the

sacrifice of the obnoxious manorial fees, came into the same system. The

steps likewise taken to increase the salaries of the indigent clergy,

the most numerous part of the body in the assembly, secured their

influence. And by destroying the monopoly of municipal and judicial

employments, the support of the cities was obtained.—Thus the national

assembly, without a struggle, found itself omnipotent. Their only

enemies were individuals, seemingly of importance, it is true, as they

had been accustomed to lead the great corporate bodies; but what was

their empire, when all their former subjects were withdrawn from their

control? of these enemies, the church dignitaries were of the most

consequence; but, after the confiscation of ecclesiastical property, it

would have been impossible for the court, even supposing a

counter-revolution, to provide for them; as they would have been a dead

weight on the royalists.

Unfortunately, almost every thing human, however beautiful or splendid

the superstructure, has, hitherto, been built on the vile foundation of

selfishness; virtue has been the watch-word, patriotism the trumpet, and

glory the banner of enterprize; but pay and plunder have been the real

motives. I do not mean to assert, that there were not any real patriots

in the assembly.—I know there were many. By real patriots, I mean men

who have studied politics, and whose ideas and opinions on the subject

are reduced to principles; men who make that science so much their

principal object, as to be willing to give up time, personal safety, and

whatever society comprehends in the phrase, _personal interest_, to

secure the adoption of their plans of reform, and the diffusion of

knowledge.

But most of the leaders of the national assembly were guided by the

vulgar import of the word, a vain desire of applause, or deep schemes of

emolument. The Lameths, for instance, who had been the obsequious slaves

of the queen, were among the hottest advocates for popular power; and

throughout the assembly there were traces of a similar spirit.

During the first struggle, the national assembly and the people were

divided into republicans and royalists; but we shall find, from the

moment all danger of disturbance appeared to be over, the higher class

were receding from the patriots, and recruiting from the royalists, to

form for themselves, under the appellation of the _impartiaux_, the

elements of a growing aristocracy.

CHAPTER III.

REFLECTIONS ON THE MEMBERS OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. SECESSION OF

SEVERAL PSEUDO-PATRIOTS. SOCIETY RIPE FOR IMPROVEMENT THROUGHOUT EUROPE.

WAR NATURAL TO MEN IN A SAVAGE STATE. REMARKS ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

OF SOCIETY. THE ARTS—PROPERTY—INEQUALITY OF CONDITIONS—WAR. PICTURE OF

MANNERS IN MODERN FRANCE.

The despotism of the former government of France having formed the most

voluptuous, artificial characters, in the higher orders of society,

makes it less extraordinary to find the leading patriots men without

principles or political knowledge, excepting what they had casually

gleaned from books, only read to while away an idle hour not employed in

pleasure. So superficial indeed was their acquaintance with any subject

that demanded thought—and so great the degeneracy of their manners, it

was natural for every man of reflection to infer, that a considerable

length of time must elapse before the new order of things, which they

were about to create, could attain stability. But this was not a

discouraging consideration, when it was obvious, that important

advantages had already been gained by the people; and by the improvement

of morals, which would necessarily follow, it was to be presumed, that

the evils, the old system produced, would vanish before gradual

amendments; whilst, by a practical knowledge of political and civil

liberty, the great objects of the revolution would be ascertained;

namely, just laws, and equal liberty.

The depravity of the higher class, and the ignorance of the lower

respecting practical political science, rendered them equally incapable

of thinking for themselves; so that the measures which flattered the

foibles, or gratified the weakness of either, were sure to have great

influence in producing a schism in the public mind; which gave an

opportunity to the enemies of the revolution to impede it’s course. And

the number of the lower class having it’s due weight, when they became

free, the most daring innovators became the greatest favourites with the

public, to whose will every prudential consideration was obliged to

yield.

Much had been gained on the 4th of august by the nation: the old forms

of feudal vassalage were completely overturned—and France then stood at

the point the most advantageous in which a government was ever

constructed.—She stood fair as the dawn of her liberty, having shaken

off the prejudices of ages; and reason was tracing out the road, which

leads to virtue, glory, and happiness—Still ambitious selfishness,

melancholy drawback! governed too great a proportion of the assembly;

and the nobles and clergy who had been averse to the junction of the

orders now intriguing, every debate became a bitter or violent contest,

in which the popular advocates continued to gain an ascendency.

This disposition to intrigue, and want of sincerity, so generally

remarked in the French character, laid the foundation of universal

distrust; and the coalesced parties, who had not been actuated by a love

of liberty, or regard for the prosperity of the kingdom, but dexterously

fell in with the spirit of the day, were not aware, that a watchful,

suspicious multitude, would be as likely to mistrust them in their turn,

as the court, which had thriven on the ruin of their happiness. This was

a blindness so gross, that it appears not a little wonderful, after

considering the different characters, who succeeded each other in the

ministry, or directed the helm of the state, that men should not acquire

sufficient judgment to adopt the integrity of conduct, with which alone

people in their senses, awake to their interest and rights, will ever be

satisfied.

For a vain-glorious ambition, mixing with the abortions of giddy

patriotism, acts as the most fatal poison to political disquisitions,

during seasons of public ferment. The solid views of deep thinkers are

adapted to the spirit of the times, and the state of reason of their

compeers. And if they find, that the current of opinion, in overturning

inveterate prejudices, and the decayed walls of laws, that no longer

suit the manners, threatens the destruction of principles the most

sacred; they ought firmly to wait at their post, until, the fervour

abating, they could, by diverting the stream, gradually restrain it

within proper bounds.—But such patriotism is of slow growth; requiring

both a luxuriant public soil, and to be fostered by virtuous emulation.

Yet this emulation will never flourish in a country where intriguing

finesse, supplying the place of exalted merit, is the surest ladder to

distinction. It was by debasing artifices, under the old government,

that men obtained favour and consequence; and whilst such men, men who

were educated and ossified by the ancient _regimen_, act on the

political stage of France, mankind will be continually distressed and

amused by their tragic and comic exhibitions.

Art applied to art, and stratagem against stratagem, may produce, for a

time, alternate defeats; but ultimately the most cunning will triumph.

Vanity had made every frenchman a theorist, though political aphorisms

were never ascertained under the reign of tyranny or caprice. The

sagacious part of the nation, it is true, clearly perceived, that the

period was arrived, when a revolution was inevitable; but selfishness

being incompatible with noble, comprehensive, or laudable views, it is

not wonderful, keeping in sight the national foible, that at the meeting

of the states-general every deputy had his particular plan to suggest.

Few of the leaders embraced the same; and acting, without coalescing,

the most violent measures were sure to be the most applauded. We shall

find also, that some of the most strenuous advocates for reforming

abuses, and establishing a constitution, when their favourite systems

were exploded, peevishly retired in disgust: and by afterwards venting

it, have hurried into action a race of monsters, the most flagitious

that ever alarmed the world by the murder of innocents, and the mockery

of justice; and whilst the profanation of her temple, besprinkled with

blood, has branded with an indelible stigma the sanguinary brutes, the

deserters cannot escape without a share of the odium.

Contemplating the progress of the revolution, a melancholy reflection is

produced by observing, that almost every precipitate event has been the

consequence of a tenacity and littleness of mind in the political

actors, whilst they were affecting a roman magnanimity of conduct—to

which they appear to have been as great strangers, as they were

destitute of legitimate patriotism, and political science.

We have first seen Calonne, in order to secure his popularity and place,

proposing an equalization of taxes; and, when he found that his

consequence and power were lost, abandoning his country in disgust, and

employing the most unwarrantable means to involve his fellow citizens in

all the horrours of a civil war. We shall find, likewise, several other

declaimers, for their subsequent conduct obliges me to consider them in

no better light, when their plans were disregarded, if not acting the

same shameful part, yet leaving their posts; their patriotism expiring

with their popularity.—And it will be only necessary to keep in mind the

conduct of all the leading men, who have been active in the revolution,

to perceive, that the disasters of the nation have arisen from the same

miserable source of vanity, and the wretched struggles of selfishness;

when the crisis required, that all enlightened patriots should have

united and formed a band, to have consolidated the great work; the

commencement of which they had accelerated. In proportion as these

desertions have taken place, the best abilities which the country

contained have disappeared. And thus it has happened, that ignorance and

audacity have triumphed, merely because there were not found those

brilliant talents, which, pursuing the straight forward line of

political economy, arrest, as it were, the suffrage of every well

disposed citizen.—Such talents existed in France: and had they combined,

and directed their views by a pure love of their country, to one point;

all the disasters, which in overwhelming the empire have destroyed the

repose of Europe, would not have occurred to disgrace the cause of

freedom.

Every great reform requires systematic management; and however lightly

weak daring heads may treat the gravity of such a remark, the pacific

progress of every revolution will depend, in a very material degree, on

the moderation and reciprocity of concessions made by the acting

parties. It is true, that in a nation chiefly celebrated for wit so much

prudence could scarcely be expected—yet that is not a sufficient reason

for condemning all the principles, that produced the revolution: for

liberty cannot be considered as belonging exclusively to any particular

climate, or temper of mind, as a physical effect. It was peculiarly

urgent, indeed, to form such a coalition, to counteract the dangerous

consequences of old prejudices. The stubborn habits of men, whom

personal interest kept firm to their ground, it was morally certain

would interrupt the tranquil march of the revolution: it would have been

prudent then for men, who agreed in the main objects, to have overlooked

trifling differences of opinion, till they were secured: and of this

several members seem to have been aware.[26]

Had the conduct of men been sincere, and had they really pursued that

fraternity, about which they so continually declaimed; they might, in

consolidating the rights of french citizens, have established every

political advantage, which the then state of reason was capable of

adopting for the immediate benefit of society. But resentment bursting

forth, which had long lain concealed (the effect of servitude and

contumely), joined with the vanity of excelling all other nations in the

science of government, to produce an insolent audacity of conduct,

which, aiming at overturning every thing, discouraged the wavering, and

frightened the timid. Designing knaves then conceived the plan of rising

to eminence by the accumulating foibles of the multitude, who, loosened

from all restraint, were easily caught by the insidious arts of the most

contemptible anarchists.

The object of those monsters, who were meditating the violation of the

sacred ties of honour and humanity, was early perceived by the more

penetrating; but instead of opposing themselves to their designs, they

for the most part became initiated into their clubs; whilst others, more

haughty, though perhaps less under the direction of principles,—if there

were any among them,—emigrated, leaving their country verging towards

the whirlpool of civil discord, and all it’s concomitant wretchedness.

It is necessary for us to attend closely to these considerations, in

order to be enabled to form a just opinion of the various revolutions

which have succeeded each other:—because, from a superficial view of

things of this nature, we frequently attribute to the passions, or

innate turpitude of man, what was merely the effect of moral depravity.

Hence it has happened, that so many of the admirers of the revolution,

in its infancy, now talk of extravagant innovations, tending to overturn

all the barriers of justice,—to trample on the feelings of humanity, and

to destroy every thing splendid and beautiful,—the production of ages,

industry, taste, and learning.

But this revolution did not interest frenchmen alone; for it’s influence

extending throughout the continent, all the passions and prejudices of

Europe were instantly set afloat. That most favoured part of the globe

had risen to an astonishing pre-eminence, though every where it’s

inhabitants have had to contend with distinctions the most unnatural,

and prejudices the most veteran. But, having overcome those formidable

obstacles to the happiness of her citizens, society seems to have

arrived at that point of civilization, when it becomes necessary for

governments to meliorate it’s condition, or a dissolution of their power

and authority will be the consequence of a wilful disregard of the

intimations of the times. This is a truth, which the people have

perceived; but which the parasites of courts, and the advocates for

despotism have not been willing to believe. And besides, their support,

it might be said existence, being attached to the continuation of those

savage abuses, they have fought with unusual intrepidity in their

defence. Thus wars have been the business of courts, in which they have

artfully interested the passions of the people.

Men in a savage state, without intellectual amusements, or even fields

or vineyards to employ them, depending for subsistance on the casual

supply of the chace, seem continually to have made war, one with

another, or nation with nation; and the booty taken from their enemies

formed the principal object of contest, because war was not, like

industry, a kind of abridgement of their liberty. But the social

feelings of man, after having been exercised by a perilous life, flow

over in long stories, when he reaches garrulous old age. Whilst his

listening progeny wondering at his feats, their hearts are fired with

the ambition of equaling their fire. His soul also warmed by sympathy,

feeling for the distresses of his fellow creatures, and particularly for

the helpless state of decrepit age; he begins to contemplate, as

desirable, associations of men, to prevent the inconveniencies arising

from loneliness and solitude. Hence little communities living together

in the bonds of friendship, securing to them the accumulated powers of

man, mark the origin of society: and tribes growing into nations,

spreading themselves over the globe, form different languages, which

producing different interests, and misunderstandings, excite distrust.

The invention of the arts now affords him employment; and it is in

proportion to their extension that he becomes domestic, and attached to

his home. For whilst they were in their infancy his restless temper, and

savage manners, still kept alive his passion for war and plunder; and we

shall find, if we look back to the first improvement of man, that as his

ferocity wore away, the right of property grew sacred. The prowess or

abilities of the leaders of barbarians gave them likewise an ascendency

in their respective dynasties; which gaining strength in proportion to

the ignorance of the age, produced the distinctions of men, from which

the great inequality of conditions has originated; and they have been

preserved long since the necessity has ceased to exist.

During the reign of ignorance, the disagreements of states could be

settled only by combats; and the art of dexterously murdering seems to

have decided differences, where reason should have been the arbitrator.

The custom then of settling disputes at the point of the bayonet, in

modern Europe, has been justified by the example of barbarians; and

whilst fools continually argue from the practice of inhuman savages,

that wars are necessary evils, courts have found them convenient to

perpetuate their power: thus slaughter has furnished a plausible pretext

for peculation.

Fortunately, in spite of the various impediments that have thwarted the

advancement of knowledge, the blessings of society have been

sufficiently experienced to convince us, that the only solid good to be

expected from a government must result from the security of our persons

and property. And domestic felicity has given a mild lustre to human

happiness superiour to the false glory of sanguinary devastation, or

magnificent robberies. Our fields and vineyards have thus gradually

become the principal objects of our care—and it is from this general

sentiment governing the opinion of the civilized part of the world, that

we are enabled to contemplate, with some degree of certainty, the

approaching age of peace.

All that could be done by a body of manners, without a soul of morals,

to improve mankind, had been tried in France—The result was polished

slavery; and such an inordinate love of pleasure, as led the majority to

search only for enjoyment, till the tone of nature was destroyed. Yet

some few really learned the true art of living; giving that degree of

elegance to domestic intercourse, which, prohibiting gross familiarity,

alone can render permanent the family affections, whence all the social

virtues spring.

It is a mistake to suppose that there was no such thing as domestic

happiness in France, or even in Paris. For many french families, on the

contrary, exhibited an affectionate urbanity of behaviour to each other,

seldom to be met with where a certain easy gaiety does not soften the

difference of age and condition. The husband and wife, if not lovers,

were the civilest friends and the tenderest parents in the world—the

only parents, perhaps, who really treated their children like friends;

and the most affable masters and mistresses. Mothers were also to be

found, who, after suckling their children, paid a degree of attention to

their education, not thought compatible with the levity of character

attributed to them; whilst they acquired a portion of taste and

knowledge rarely to be found in the women of other countries. Their

hospitable boards were constantly open to relations and acquaintance,

who, without the formality of an invitation, enjoyed there cheerfulness

free from restraint; whilst more select circles closed the evening, by

discussing literary subjects. In the summer, when they retired to their

mansion houses, they spread gladness around, and partook of the

amusements of the peasantry, whom they visited with paternal solicitude.

These were, it is true, the rational few, not numerous in any

country—and where is led a more useful or rational life?

In the provinces, likewise, more simplicity of manners prevailing, their

morals were more pure: though family pride, as in England, made the most

noble house the royal family of each village, who visited the grand

court only to import it’s follies. Besides, in France, the women have

not those factitious, supercilious manners, common to the english; and

acting more freely, they have more decision of character, and even more

generosity. Rousseau has taught them also a scrupulous attention to

personal cleanliness, not generally to be seen elsewhere: their coquetry

is not only more agreeable, but more natural: and not left a prey to

unsatisfied sensations, they were less romantic indeed than the english;

yet many of them possessed delicacy of sentiment.

It is, perhaps, in a state of comparative idleness—pursuing employments

not absolutely necessary to support life, that the finest polish is

given to the mind, and those personal graces, which are instantly felt,

but cannot be described: and it is natural to hope, that the labour of

acquiring the substantial virtues, necessary to maintain freedom, will

not render the french less pleasing, when they become more respectable.

AN

HISTORICAL AND MORAL VIEW

OF THE

FRENCH REVOLUTION.

_BOOK IV._

CHAPTER I.

OPINIONS ON THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE FOURTH OF AUGUST. DISORDERS

OCCASIONED BY THOSE TRANSACTIONS. NECKER DEMANDS THE ASSEMBLY’S SANCTION

TO A LOAN. A LOAN DECREED. TITHES ABOLISHED. DEBATE ON THE DECLARATION

OF RIGHTS. THE FORMATION OF A CONSTITUTION. DEBATE ON THE EXECUTIVE

POWER. THE SUSPENSIVE VETO ADOPTED. PRETENDED AND REAL VIEWS OF THE

COMBINATION OF DESPOTS AGAINST FRANCE. DEBATE ON THE CONSTITUTION OF A

SENATE. MEANS OF PEACEABLY EFFECTING A REFORM SHOULD MAKE A PART OF

EVERY CONSTITUTION.

The numerous offerings made to their country by the deputies, on the 4th

of august, excited loud applause; but not without a mixture of sarcastic

censure, and murmurs of disapprobation.

Some blamed the decrees, which, said they, have sacrificed the property

of several thousand families to the vain desire of popularity.—Others

complained of the neglect of those forms, by which every assembly, that

aspires at putting some maturity into it’s decrees, ought to direct it’s

debates;—they disapproved of an afternoon sitting;—of the rapid

succession of subjects, not allowing time for any to be weighed;—of the

multiplicity of them;—and of the continual acclamations, which rendered

a calm discussion physically impossible.—‘What!’ they continued, ‘shall

the most important business always be treated with the levity, which

characterized us before we deserved to be termed a nation? Eternally the

sport of our vivacity, a happy turn decides with us the most serious

point; and gay sallies are ever our substitutes for arguments.—We do

madly the wisest things; and even our reason is always connected by some

filament or other to inconsistency.—The national assembly had been a

long time reproached for dwelling on trifling objects; and not attending

sufficiently to the promotion of general good.—When suddenly—in a single

night, more than twenty important laws are decided by an uproar. So much

done, in such a short time, is so astonishing, that it appears like a

dream.’

In reply it was said—‘Why deliberate, when all are agreed?—Does not a

general good always appear self-evident?—Was it not sufficient to

declare these patriotic propositions to prove their justness?—The first

person, who pointed out a new tribute to the public interest, only gave

utterance to what we all before felt—there was no need then of

discussion or eloquence, to make that be adopted, which had already been

resolved by the greater number of the deputies, and commanded by the

awful authority of the nation, in their mandates.—The assembly might

have proceeded more methodically; but the result could not have been

more advantageous. It seemed as if all the old effects, all the

mouldering titles of feudal oppressions were then put up to auction: and

the kind of mistrust of the different orders, which provoked reciprocal

concessions, was still for the public good.’

The nobles and clergy of the provinces, who had not been carried away by

the enthusiasm of the 4th of august, felt themselves particularly

aggrieved. Those who were recently noble did not like to mix again on

equal terms in towns where they had received the homage paid to princes;

and the people, eager to exercise their liberty, began to hunt down the

game, regardless of the mischief they did to the standing corn. The very

concessions of the nobility seemed to rouse the vengeance it ought to

have allayed; and the populace vented their rage by burning the castles,

which had been, as it were, legally dismantled of their feudal

fortifications.

The clergy, in particular, complained, that their deputies had exceeded

all bounds in voting away the private property of the body; for they

would not allow, that tithes came within the description of feudal

tenures. The want of provision, likewise, tended to make the people

clamour about present grievances, without suffering the prospect of

future comfort and respectability to have it’s due force towards calming

their minds. All, therefore, flew to arms, and three millions of men

wearing the military garb, showed the natural disposition of the nation;

and their present resolve, no longer to couch supinely under oppression.

Many excesses were the consequence of this sudden change; and it is

notorious, that the people, in some instances, became the instruments of

the routed party; who continued to use every stratagem to render the

nation dissatisfied with the revolution.

It is the nature of man, either in a savage state or living in society,

to protect his property; and it is wise in a government to encourage

this spirit. For the example now displayed by France is a notable proof

of the inexpediency of standing armies, so long as the people have an

interest in supporting the political system under which they live. The

national assembly, aware of this, invited the militia and the

municipalities, to endeavour to quell the disorders which did violence

to persons and property; and they were particularly requested to take

the most watchful care, that the convoys of wheat and flour were not

stopped by the idle and lawless. For several of the most fatal tumults

had originated from this cause.

The decrees of the 4th of august, were then brought forward to be

examined and explained; and some attempts were made to argue away the

essence of many of the vaunted sacrifices.—But the discussion was

interrupted, to attend to business of a more pressing nature. The

present state of the nation was most alarming; and the ministers, not

knowing how to act under the new trammels of responsibility, came to

represent to the assembly;—that the laws were without force;—the courts

of justice without activity;—and they requested them, immediately to

point out the coercive measures necessary to give to the executive

authority the influence it had lost.—‘For,’ observed they, ‘whether the

irritated sense of the abuses, which the king wishes to reform, and you

desire to proscribe for ever, have led the people astray; or, the

declaration of an universal regeneration have shaken the various powers

upon which the social order reposed—or whatever, in fact, be the cause,

gentlemen, the truth is, that public order and tranquillity are

disturbed in aloft every part of the kingdom.’

Necker, afterwards, having explained the deplorable state of the

finances, the extraordinary expences, and the diminution in the produce

of the revenue, demanded, in the name of the king, that the assembly

would sanction a loan of thirty millions of livres, to fulfil the

engagements, and discharge the inevitable expenditure of the two

approaching months; by which time, he presumed, the constitution would

be nearly established. Thinking also, that the patriotism of

moneylenders was not to be reckoned upon, he proposed to add to the five

per cent. he mentioned some allurements of speculation, to quicken the

determination of the lenders—and he further inferred, that private

interest would then tend to quiet the kingdom, whilst they were

advancing in the formation of the constitution, which was to secure it’s

future tranquillity, and provide a permanent revenue.

This proposal produced the most warm and loud applause.—One member

proposed, that the loan should instantly be voted in the presence of the

minister, as a mark of their entire satisfaction—another offered six

hundred thousand livres as a security, that he would raise the loan in

his own province. This effervescence, so contagious, which is after all

only physical sensibility, excited by a commotion of the animal spirits,

proves, that a considerable length of time is necessary to accustom men

to exercise their rights with deliberation; that they may be able to

defend themselves from a kind of instinctive confidence in men; and to

make them substitute respect for principles, to a blind faith in

persons, even of the most distinguished abilities.—But to elevate a

numerous assembly to this calm grandeur; to that permanent dignity,

which represses the emotions of the moment, demands, it is probable, a

more advanced state of reason.

Lally-Tolendal supported the necessity of adopting the measures proposed

for the obtaining a loan to supply the exigencies of government, which

were become very urgent; and he refuted the objection, made by several

deputies, who were against the grant, that in their instructions they

had been strictly enjoined not to sanction any tax or loan before the

constitution was formed. On this side Mirabeau ranged himself; for with

all his great talents and superiority of genius, he could not avoid

envying inferiour abilities, when they attracted the least popularity.

He therefore, with plausible rhetoric, but shallow arguments, opposed

the loan; and with great parade moved, that the deputies should offer

their individual credit, instead of departing from the very letter of

their instructions. This was one of those instances of pretended

disinterestedness, or false patriotism, calculated to dazzle the people,

whilst it involved the nation in fresh embarrassments.

The plan was referred to the consideration of the committee, appointed

to make financial reports: and they accordingly acknowledged the

necessity of a prompt supply; but thought, that the loan might now be

obtained without the additional advantages, which Necker mentioned as a

necessary bait. The discussion was then renewed with great heat, and

even personality; till at last the interest of the loan was fixed at

four and an half per cent.; and to slip through the knot they were

afraid to cut, it was to be sanctioned under the wing of the decrees of

the 4th of august.

It did not, however, prove productive; for in the course of three weeks,

only two millions, six hundred thousand livres were subscribed. And this

delay of business induced the assembly to adopt, with less scruple,

another proposal for a fresh loan, instead of the one that did not

promise to answer, at a rate less advantageous to the nation: or rather

they yielded to the necessity, into which they had plunged themselves;

and lest the mode of obtaining it to the executive power, in spite of

their former objection. But it was not an easy task to inspire the

bankers and money-holders with sufficient faith in the new government,

to induce them to come forward to support it; besides, the previous

discussion had converted caution into timidity; and the more desperate

the state of the finances appeared, the stronger grew the suspicion,

that threw insurmountable obstacles in the way of a temporary relief.