Whilst the multitude were advancing, the assembly were considering the

king’s reply to their request to sanction the declaration of rights, and

the first articles of the constitution, before the supplies were

granted. The reply was couched in terms somewhat vague, yet it’s meaning

could not be misunderstood.—He observed, that the articles of the

constitution could be judged of only in their connection with the whole;

nevertheless he thought it natural, that at the moment the nation was

called upon to assist the government by a signal act of confidence and

patriotism, they should expect to be re-assured respecting their

principal interest.—‘Accordingly,’ he continues, ‘taking it for granted,

that the first articles of the constitution, which you have presented to

me, united to the completion of your labours, will satisfy the wishes of

my people, and secure the happiness and prosperity of the kingdom,

conformably to your desire I accept them; but with one positive

condition, from which I will never depart; namely, that from the general

result of your deliberations the executive power shall have it’s entire

effect in the hands of the monarch. Still it remains for me to assure

you with frankness, that, if I give my sanction of acceptance to the

several articles, which you have laid before me, it is not because they

indiscriminately give me an idea of perfection; but I believe it

laudable in me to pay this respect to the wishes of the deputies of the

nation, and to the alarming circumstances, which so earnestly press us

to desire above all things the prompt re-establishment of peace, order,

and confidence.

‘I shall not deliver my sentiments respecting your declaration of the

rights of man and of citizens. It contains excellent maxims proper to

direct your deliberations; but principles susceptible of application,

and even of different interpretations, cannot be justly appreciated, and

have only need of being so when their true sense is determined by the

laws, to which they ought to be the basis.’

In the subterfuge employed in this answer, the profound dissimulation of

the king appears; and that ‘pitiful respect for false honour,’ which

makes a man boggle at a naked untruth, even when uttering a number of

contemptible prevarications. Thus did he at first struggle against every

concession, against granting any real freedom to the people; yet

afterwards unable to maintain his ground, he impotently gave way before

the storm he had raised, every time losing a part of the authority which

depended on opinion.

The assembly manifested an universal discontent. One of the members

remarked, that the king withheld his acceptance of the declaration of

rights; and only yielded to circumstances in accepting the

constitutional articles: he, therefore, moved, that no taxes should be

levied, before the declaration of rights and the constitution should be

accepted, without any reservation.—Another asserted, that the king’s

reply ought to have been counter-signed by one of the ministers. What an

absurdity! yet the inviolability of the king standing in their way, it

seemed to be necessary to secure ministerial responsibility, to render

it null; not only to prevent the ministers from finding shelter behind

it, but to make it utterly useless to the king, who was thus, literally

speaking, reduced to a cipher. Mirabeau, however, after alluding with

energy to the entertainment, which, out of derision, had been termed

patriotic, made three or four motions. One was, ‘that no act emanating

from the king should be declared without the signature of a secretary of

state.’—So inconsistent was the man, who argued with such eloquence for

the absolute _veto_:—Another was, ‘that his majesty would please to be

explicit; and not by a conditional consent, extorted by circumstances,

leave any doubt of his sincere concurrence in the mind of the people.’

It was also noticed, to corroborate the inference, that the king was

only yielding, for the moment, to opinions which he hoped to see

exploded, that the decree for the circulation of grain had been altered

before the publication, and the usual preamble, _for such is our

pleasure_, formed a strange contrast with an acknowledgement of the

legislative rights of the nation. Robespierre, particularly, maintained,

that the nation had not any need of the assistance of the monarch to

constitute itself—that the king’s reply was not an acceptance, but a

censure; and, consequently, an attack on the rights of the people.

This seemed virtually the opinion of the assembly, though Mirabeau’s

soft style of expressing their will was adopted. It was particularly in

this decision, that the deputies displayed a great degree of the

weakness, which mistakes temerity for courage, and the shadow of justice

for verity.—And affecting to say, to reconcile a contradiction, that the

authority of kings is suspended as often as the sovereign is occupied in

framing the elements of the constitution, or altering fundamental laws,

they demonstrated the inconsistency of their own system, and

acknowledged it’s absurdity; which is still more flagrantly shown in

Mirabeau’s irrational declaration, that, ‘by a pious fiction of the law,

the king cannot himself deceive; but the grievances of the people

demanding victims, these victims are the ministers.’

At this juncture of the debate the tumultuous concourse of women arrived

at Versailles: but it must not be unnoticed, that there was a number of

men with them, disguised in women’s clothes; which proves, that this was

not, as has been asserted, a sudden impulse of necessity, There were

besides men in their own garb armed like ruffians, with countenances

answerable, who, swearing vengeance against the queen and the

body-guards, seemed to be preparing to put their threats in execution.

Some barbarians, volunteers in guilt, might perhaps have joined, spurred

on solely by the hope of plunder, and a love of tumult; but it is clear,

that the principal movers played a surer game.

The women had taken two routes; and one party, without arms, presented

themselves at the gate of the assembly, whilst the other clustered round

the palace waiting for them. The avenues were already filled with

body-guards, the flanders regiment was drawn up in ranks; in short, the

soldiers were gathered together quickly in one quarter, though the

people of Versailles were exceedingly alarmed, and particularly by the

appearance of the vagabonds, who followed the female mob.

With some difficulty the women were prevailed on to allow a few to enter

orderly into the assembly, with a spokesman to make known their demand;

whilst crowds, taking refuge in the galleries from the rain, presented

there the strange sight of pikes, fusils, and tremendous sticks bound

with iron. Their orator represented the grievances of the people, and

the necessity of continually providing for their subsistence: he

expressed the concern of the parisians on account of the slow formation

of the constitution, and attributed this delay to the opposition of the

clergy. A bishop then presided in the absence of Mounier, the president,

who had been dispatched by the assembly with their expostulatory

petition to the king. A deputy, to spare him the embarrassment of a

reply to the insinuation against his order, reprimanded the petitioner

for calumniating that respectable body. He accordingly made an apology,

yet justified himself by declaring, that he only reported the purport of

the discontentment of Paris. They were informed, in reply, by the

vice-president, that a deputation was already sent to the king,

requesting his sanction of a decree to facilitate the interiour

circulation of grain and flour: and finding, that it was impossible to

attend to the business of the day, he adjourned the assembly, without

waiting for the return of the president.

The women about the palace entered into conversation with the soldiers,

some of whom said, ‘that were the king to recover all his authority, the

people would never want bread!’ This indiscreet insinuation exasperated

them; and they replied in the language, that is proverbial for being the

most abusive. A fray also ensuing, brought on by a dispute relative to

the affair of the cockades, one of the body-guards drew his sword, which

provoked a national guard of Versailles to give him a blow with his

musket, that broke his arm.

The national troops were eager to convince the mob, that they were

equally offended at the disrespect paid to the emblem of liberty; and

the flemish regiment, though they were in battle array, made the women

let their rings drop into their guns, to be convinced that they were not

charged: saying, ‘It was true, they had drunk the wine of the body

guards; but what did that engage them to do? They had also cried, _vive

le roi_, as the people themselves did every day; and it was their

intention to serve him faithfully, but not against the nation!’—with

other speeches to the same effect;—adding, ‘that one of their officers

had ordered a thousand cockades; and they knew not why they were not

distributed!’ Enraged by the tenour of this discourse, a body-guard’s

man struck one of the soldiers talking thus, who, in return, fired on

him, and fractured his arm. All was now confusion; and every thing

tended to render the body-guards more odious to the populace.

The king arrived in the midst of it from hunting, and admitted at the

same time the deputation from the national assembly, and an address from

the women. He received the latter with great affability, testified his

sorrow on account of the scarcity of bread at Paris, and immediately

sanctioned the decree, relative to the free circulation of grain, which

he had just received from the assembly. The woman who spoke, attempting

to kiss his hand, he embraced her with politeness, and dismissed them in

the most gentleman-like manner. They immediately rejoined their

companions, charmed by the reception they had met with; and the king

sent orders to the guards not to make use of their arms. The count

d’Estaing, the commander in chief, announced likewise to the militia of

Versailles, that the body-guards would the next day take the oath of

allegiance to the nation, and put on the patriotic cockade. ‘They are

not worthy,’ was the indignant growl of the multitude.

Some women now returning to Paris, to report the gracious behaviour of

the king, were unfortunately maltreated by a detachment of body-guards,

commanded by a nobleman; and the volunteers of the Bastille coming to

their assistance, two men, and three horses, were killed on the spot.

These same irritated women meeting, likewise, the parisian militia, on

their way to Versailles, gave them an exaggerated description of the

conduct of the guards.

The court now taking the alarm, fearing that their plan would be

defeated, by the king’s being obliged to go to Paris, urged him

immediately to get out for Metz, and the carriages were actually

prepared. It is scarcely credible that they would have gone so far

without his concurrence.

One loaded coach had been permitted to go out of the gate; but the

national troops beginning to suspect what was going forward, obliged it

to re-enter. The king then, with his usual address, finding his escape

at that time impracticable, and not wishing to shed blood in forcing his

way, made a merit of necessity, and declared he would rather perish than

see the blood of frenchmen streaming in his quarrel! So easy is it for a

man, versed in the language of duplicity, to impose on the credulous;

and to impress on candid minds a belief of an opinion that they would

gladly receive without any doubting allay, did not other circumstances

more strongly contradict the persuasion. This declaration, however,

which was re-echoed with great eagerness, was considered as a manifest

proof of the purity of his intentions, and a mark of his fixed adherence

to the cause which he affected to espouse. Yet, to prove the contrary,

it is only necessary to observe, that he put off the acceptance of the

declaration of rights, and the first articles of the constitution, till

after the attempt to escape was frustrated: for it was near eleven

o’clock when he sent for the president, to put into his hands a simple

acceptation, and to request him to convoke the assembly immediately,

that he might avail himself of their counsel at this crisis; alarmed by

the mob without, who, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather, it

being a very wet and stormy night, were uttering the most horrid

imprecations against the queen and the body-guards.

A drum instantly summoned the assembly; and La Fayette arriving with his

army in less than an hour after, the president was again called for, who

returned to the assembly with the king’s assurance, that he had not even

thought of leaving them, nor would he ever separate himself from the

representatives of the people.

La Fayette had previously assured the king of the fidelity of the

metropolis, and that he had been expressly sent by the municipality of

Paris to guard his august person. A rumour had prevailed, ever since the

arrival of the women, that the parisian militia were coming to second

them; but as the _commune_ of Paris had not determined till late in the

afternoon, the messenger from La Fayette to the palace could not have

reached Versailles long before him: but the court supposing that they

would come, and having heard of the wish of the parisians to bring the

king to Paris, where they had always spies to give them the earliest

notice of what was going forward, pressed him to set out without loss of

time; still they were actuated solely by the desire of getting him away,

and not from any apprehension that his life was in danger.

After tranquilizing the king, La Fayette joined the parisian militia in

the avenue, to inform them, that the king had sanctioned the decree of

the assembly for expediting the more speedy circulation of provisions;

that he accepted, without any reservation, of the declaration of rights,

with the first articles of the constitution, declaring at the same time

his unshaken resolution to remain among his people; and that he

consented also to have a detachment of the national troops of Paris to

contribute to guard his person.

Joy now took place of dread at Versailles; and the citizens distributed

their addresses amongst the soldiers, offering them lodgings; they

having been previously requested, by the beating of a drum, to receive

as many of the parisian militia as they possibly could. The rest, after

passing several hours in arms round the palace, sought for shelter, as

the morning began to dawn, in the churches. Every thing appearing quiet,

the harassed king and queen were prevailed on to seek the repose they

needed; and La Fayette, about five in the morning, retired to his

chamber, to write to the municipality an account of his proceedings,

before he likewise endeavoured to snatch a little rest.

Scarcely an hour after, the restless mob, great part of which had taken

refuge in the hall and galleries of the assembly, began to prowl about.

The most decent of the women, who had been pressed into the service,

stole away during the night. The rest, with the whole gang of ruffians,

rushed towards the palace, and finding its avenues unguarded, entered

like a torrent; and some among them, most probably, conceived, that this

was the moment to perpetrate the crime for which they had been drawn

from their lurking-holes in Paris.

Insulting one of the body-guards who opposed their entrance, he fired,

and killed a man. This was a fresh pretext for entering to search for

the murderer, as he was termed by these rioters; and driving the guards

before them up the grand stair-case, they began to break into the

different apartments, vowing vengeance against the body-guards, in which

were mingled the bitterest curses, all levelled at the queen.

Catching one unfortunate guard by himself, he was dragged down the

stairs; and his head, instantly severed from his body, was mounted on a

pike, which rather served to irritate than glut the fury of the

monsters, who were still hunting after blood or plunder.

The most desperate found their way to the queen’s chamber, and left for

dead the man who courageously disputed their entrance. But she had been

alarmed by the tumult, though the miscreants were not long in making

their way good, and, throwing a wrapping-gown around her, ran, by a

private passage, to the king’s apartment, where she found the dauphin;

but the king was gone in quest of her: he, however, quickly returning,

they waited together in a horrid state of suspense. Several of the

guards, who endeavoured to keep back the mob, were wounded; yet all this

happened in a very short space of time.

The promptitude and rapidity of this movement, taking every circumstance

into consideration, affords additional arguments in support of the

opinion, that there had been a premeditated design to murder the royal

family. The king had granted all they asked the evening before; sending

away great part of the multitude delighted with his condescension; and

they had received no fresh provocation to excite this outrage. The

audacity of the most desperate mob has never led them, in the presence

of a superiour force, to attempt to chastise their governors; and it is

not even probable that banditti, who had been moved by the common causes

of such insurrections, should have thought of murdering their sovereign,

who, in the eyes of the greater number of frenchmen, was still shrouded

by that divinity, tacitly allowed to hover round kings, much less have

dared to attempt it.

La Fayette was quickly roused; and, sending his _aides-de-camp_ to

assemble the national guards, he followed the ruffians with equal

celerity. They had actually forced the king’s apartment at the moment he

arrived; and the royal family were listening to the increasing tumult as

the harbinger of death,—when all was hushed,—and the door opening a

moment after, the national guards entered respectfully, saying they came

to save the king;—‘and we will save you too, gentlemen,’ added they,

addressing the body-guards, who were in the chamber.

The vagabonds were now pursued in their turn, and driven from room to

room, in the midst of their pillage, for they had already begun to

ransack that sumptuously furnished palace. From the palace they repaired

to the stables, still intent on plunder, and carried away some horses,

which were as quickly retaken. Every where they pursued the body-guards,

and every where the generous parisian troops, forgetting their piqued

pride and personal animosity, hazarded their lives to save them.—Till,

at length, order was perfectly established.

Such was the termination of this most mysterious affair; one of the

blackest of the machinations that have since the revolution disgraced

the dignity of man, and sullied the annals of humanity. Disappointed in

their main object, these wretches beheaded two of the guards, who fell

into their hands; and hurried away towards the metropolis, with the

_insignia_ of their atrocity on the points of the barbarous instruments

of vengeance—showing in every instance, by the difference of their

conduct, that they were a set of monsters, distinct from the people.

Whilst nature shudders at imputing to any one a plan so inhuman, the

general character and life of the duke of Orleans warrant the belief,

that he was the author of this tumult. And when we compare the

singularly ferocious appearance of the mob, with the brutal violation of

the apartment of the queen, there remains little doubt, but that a

design was on foot against the lives of both her and the king.—Yet in

this, and most other instances, the man has wanted courage to consummate

his villany, when the plot he had been following up was ripe.

It is, perhaps, not the least noble faculty of the mind, to question the

motives of action, which are repugnant to the feelings of nature,

outraging the most sacred feelings of the human soul. But it is the

developement of a character, that enables us to estimate it’s depravity;

and had the conduct of that wretch ever varied, the veil of mystery

might still have remained unrent, and posterity, hearing of the judgment

of the châtelet, would have believed _Egalité_ innocent. The court had

become highly obnoxious to the nation, and with it the king was

implicated, in spite of the efforts of Mirabeau, and some other

favourites of the people, to render him respectable; so that there

wanted not a plausible: reason for suspecting, that the duke might

aspire at obtaining the regency, though Louis was neither massacred, nor

allowed to escape. But the present scheme being disconcerted, fear, for

a while, damped his ambition: and La Fayette, finding that these

suspicions still formed a pretext to excite commotions, with a view to

quiet the minds of the parisians, seconded the importunities of the

duke, who wished to visit England, till the affair blew over. The king,

therefore, was prevailed on to give him a nominal commission, to be made

use of as a plea to obtain liberty of absence from the assembly, of

which he was a member.

He was certainly very apprehensive of an investigation of the business;

and revenge and ambition equally giving way to personal fear, he left

his colleagues to finish the constitution, and his agents to recover his

fame, by representing the story as a calumny of the royalists, against

whom the public were sufficiently enraged to credit any aspersion.

The bold tone he assumed the july following was far from being a proof

of his innocence; because it was not very probable, that a cunning man

should take his measures in such a critical affair without due

precaution.—On the contrary, he would labour to sink so entirely into

the back-ground of the plot, as to render it difficult, if not

impossible, for him to be perceived. And this was practicable to a man,

who was willing, in the promotion of his purpose, to dissipate the most

splendid fortune.

To a disposition for low intrigue was added also a decided preference of

the grossest libertinism, seasoned with vulgarity, highly congenial with

the manners of the heroines, who composed the singular army of the

females.

Having taken up his abode in the centre of the palais royal, a very

superb square, yet the last in which a person of any delicacy, not to

mention decorum, or morality, would choose to reside; because, excepting

the people in trade, who found it convenient, it was entirely occupied

by the most shameless girls of the town, their hectoring protectors,

gamesters, and sharpers of every denomination. In short, by the vilest

of women; by wretches, who lived in houses from which the stript bodies,

often found in the Seine, were supposed to be thrown[33]—and he was

considered as the grand sultan of this den of iniquity. Living thus in

the lap of crime, his heart was as tainted as the foul atmosphere he

breathed.—Incapable of affection, his amours were the jaundiced caprices

of satiety; and having proved in the affair of Keppel and d’Orvilliers,

that he wanted the courage of a man, he appears to have been as fit for

dark under-hand assassinations as he was unequal to any attempt flowing

from virtuous ambition.

That a body of women should put themselves in motion to demand relief of

the king, or to remonstrate with the assembly respecting their tardy

manner of forming the constitution, is scarcely probable; and that they

should have undertaken the business, without being instigated by

designing persons, when all Paris was dissatisfied with the conduct and

the procrastination of the assembly, is a belief which the most

credulous will hardly swallow, unless they take into their view, that

the want of bread was the bye word used by those, who in a great measure

produced it; for perceiving the turn the public mind was taking, they

drove the mob on to perpetrate the mischief long designed, under the

sanction of national indignation.

It is evident, that the court was not concerned, however desirous the

cabinet might have been to render the people discontented with the new

order of things; for they seem to have been entirely occupied with the

scheme, on which they built the most sanguine expectation, of prevailing

on the king to retire to Metz. Besides, the course the project took is a

circumstantial evidence, that, designed against Versailles, it was not

meditated there.

That the Châtelet should not have been able to substantiate any proof of

his guilt, is not in the least extraordinary.—It is only necessary to be

acquainted with the general propensity of the french to intrigue, to

know, that there is no service, however dangerous, or purpose, however

black, for which gold will not find a man. There were wretches, who

would have considered exile as an escape from the continual dread of

menaced detection, could they carry with them a sum to commence anew

their fraudulent practices in another country; and money the duke did

not spare to gratify his passions, though sordidly mean when they were

out of the question.

His remaining also in England for such a length of time, merely to avoid

disturbing the tranquillity of the state, when it was possible, that by

it’s disorder and agitation he might gain a sceptre, cannot be credited;

because it is well known, that he never sacrificed any selfish

consideration to the general good. Such examples of self-denial and true

patriotism are uncommon, even from the most virtuous men; and it is idle

to imagine, that a man, whom all the world allowed to be vicious, should

risk the popularity, which he had been at such pains to acquire, unless

it were to guard his life.

On his return, nevertheless, finding that all was safe, he appeared in

the assembly, provoking the inquiry from which he had before skulked;

and braving detection, when the danger was passed, he had the address to

persuade the public of his innocence. Nay, the mock patriots of the day,

pretending to despise princes, were glad to have a prince on their side.

The report, that Mirabeau, always an avowed advocate for a limited

monarchy, was concerned in the plot, was certainly a calumny; because it

is notorious, that he had an habitual contempt for the duke, which had

even produced a decided coolness some time before. And, if any

collateral proof of his innocence were necessary, it would be sufficient

to add, that the abbé Maury, his competitor in eloquence, and opponent

in opinion, declared there was no ground for his impeachment.

It is unfortunate, indeed, that some of the villains employed were not

immediately interrogated. The soldiery, in chasing them from one quarter

to another, gave proofs not only of their intrepidity, but attachment to

the new government; and the only reprehensible part of their conduct was

suffering the murderers to escape, instead of apprehending as many as

they could, and bringing them to condign punishment. Such an omission,

it was to be feared, would produce the most fatal consequences, because

impunity never fails to stimulate the wretches, who have arrived at such

a pitch of wickedness, to commit fresh, and, if possible, still more

atrocious crimes; and it is by suspending the decrees of justice, that

hardened miscreants, made so by oppression, give full scope to all the

brutality of their sanguinary dispositions.

This neglect, in their turn, was not the least reprehensible or fatal

errour, produced by the factions of the assembly. The crisis demanded

vigour and boldness.—The laws had been trampled on by a gang of banditti

the most desperate—The altar of humanity had been profaned—The dignity

of freedom had been tarnished—The sanctuary of repose, the asylum of

care and fatigue, the chaste temple of a woman, I consider the queen

only as one, the apartment where she consigns her senses to the bosom of

sleep, folded in it’s arms forgetful of the world, was violated with

murderous fury—The life of the king was assailed, when he had acceded to

all their demands—And, when their plunder was snatched from them, they

massacred the guards, who were doing their duty.—Yet these brutes were

permitted triumphantly to escape—and dignified with the appellation of

the people, their outrage was in a great measure attempted to be excused

by those deputies, who sometimes endeavoured to gain an undue influence

through the interposition of the mob.

At this moment the assembly ought to have known, that the future

respectability of their laws must greatly depend on the conduct they

pursued on the present occasion; and it was time to show the parisians,

that, giving freedom to the nation, they meant to guard it by a strict

adherence to the laws, that naturally issue from the simple principles

of equal justice they were adopting; punishing with just severity all

such as should offer to violate, or treat them with contempt. Wisdom,

precision, and courage, are the permanent supports of authority—the

durable pillars of every just government, and they only require to be,

as it were, the porticos of the structure, to obtain for it, at once,

both the admiration and obedience of the people. To maintain

subordination in a state by any other means is not merely difficult,

but, for any length of time, impossible.

They ought to have stood up as one man in support of insulted justice;

and by directing the arm of the law, have smothered in embryo that

spirit of rebellion and licentiousness, which, beginning to appear in

the metropolis, it was to be feared would attain herculean strength by

impunity, and ultimately overturn, with wanton thoughtlessness, or

headstrong zeal, all their labours. Yet, so contrary was their conduct

to the dictates of common sense, and the common firmness of rectitude of

intention, that they not only permitted that gang of assassins to regain

their dens; but instantly submitted to the demand of the soldiery, and

the peremptory wish of the parisians—that the king should reside within

the walls of Paris.

The firmness of conduct, which the representatives of a people should

always maintain, had been wanting in the assembly from the moment their

power had been acknowledged; for instead of being directed by any

regular plan of proceeding, a line equally marked out by integrity and

political prudence, they were hurried along by a giddy zeal, and by a

burlesque affectation of magnanimity; as puerile as the greater part of

their debates were frivolous. Whilst their vanity was gratified by the

lively applauses lavished on their inflated and popular declamation,

they set fire to the foibles of the multitude, teaching their desperate

demagogues to become their rivals in this species of eloquence, till the

plans of the leaders of clubs, and popular societies, were generally

admired and pursued.

The will of the people being supreme, it is not only the duty of their

representatives to respect it, but their political existence ought to

depend on their acting conformably to the will of their constituents.

Their voice, in enlightened countries, is always the voice of reason.

But in the infancy of society, and during the advancement of the science

of political liberty, it is highly necessary for the governing authority

to be guided by the progress of that science; and to prevent, by

judicious measures, any check being given to it’s advancement, whilst

equal care is taken not to produce the miseries of anarchy by

encouraging licentious freedom. The national assembly, however,

delighted with their blooming honours, suffered themselves to be hurried

forward by a multitude, on whom political light had too suddenly

flashed, and seemed to have no apprehension of the danger, which has so

fatally resulted from their tame acquiescence.

The people of Paris, who have more than their portion of the national

vanity, believed that they had produced the revolution; and thinking

themselves both the father and mother of all the great events, which had

happened since it’s commencement, and that the national assembly, whose

conduct indeed betrayed symptoms of an understanding not adult, ought to

be directed by their leading-strings, frequently declared, that liberty

would not be secured, until the court and the assembly were brought

within the walls of the capital. This was the subject of club debates,

decided with legislative pomposity, on the rumour of the intended

evasion of the king; and the insult offered to the national cockade, the

first of october, brought them to the determination—that it was proper

he should be there.—Such was their will, the capital of the nation—now

sovereign. Foreseeing also, as they had already dreaded, that the only

security for infant freedom would be to guard the court, and place in

the centre of information their infant representatives; whom they

alternately idolized and suspected.

The decorum of manners in a people, long subordinate to the authority of

their magistrates, had on several occasions, and even on the fifth of

october, controlled the impetuous populace, who had undertaken, or

joined in the enterprize; and considering the manner in which they were

pushed on, it is extraordinary, that they did not commit greater

depredations. For with all their brutality, and eagerness to plunder the

palace, they did not attempt to pillage Versailles, though half

famished.

The army of La Fayette indeed, principally composed of citizens, behaved

not only in an irreproachable manner; but the celerity of their

movements, their obedience to the discipline which they had so promptly

acquired, joined to the clemency and moderation they displayed, excited

the gratitude and respect of all parties.—Still, trembling for the

rights that had been so gloriously snatched out of the clinched hand of

despotism—it was the wish of all the leaders to have the king at Paris.

It was in fact the general sentiment at Paris, and of the greater part

of the nation.

That city, which had contributed so essentially in effecting the

revolution, viewed with anxiety the influence of a party spirit in the

assembly, though themselves split into several political sects, who

almost execrated each other. And finding, that the indecision of the

members had given fresh hopes to the court, which at last might render

their emancipation merely a dazzling meteor, they were restlessly bent

on having the king and assembly more immediately in their power. The

report, likewise, of Louis’s intended escape; which had he effected, it

was probable, that he would have been in the next place prevailed on to

join the discontented princes and nobles, thus producing a schism in the

kingdom, that must infallibly have brought on not only a cruel civil

war, but have embroiled them with all the different powers of Europe;

was a still more urgent motive: for whilst they were constantly

affecting to believe in the goodness of his heart, they never showed by

their conduct, that they had any confidence in his sincerity.—Their

opinion of the assembly was equally unfixed.—One day a deputy was

extolled as the hero of liberty, and the next denounced as a traitorous

pensioner of despotism.

These sentiments were dangerous to the authority of the new government;

but they were sentiments which never would have been promulged, even had

they existed, had the assembly acted with integrity and magnanimity.

Because, though the people do not always reason in the most logical or

rhetorical style, yet they generally perceive in what consists the

defects of their legislators. And in every free government, when the

deputies of the state, convened to form laws, do not act with precision

and judgment, they will be sure to lose their respectability; and the

consequence will be a dissolution of all authority.

It appears to amount to a certainty, that the assembly did not at that

time possess the implicit confidence of the people, by their demanding,

that the king should be obliged to reside within the barriers of the

capital.—It was surely as possible to guard him at Versailles as at

Paris; and if it were necessary, that he should be kept as a prisoner of

state, or hostage, the government was the proper authority to determine

how, and where:—and in giving up this necessary privilege of authority,

they surrendered their power to the multitude of Paris.

Or rather a minority of the assembly, who wished to be removed to the

capital, by exciting and humouring the people, directed the majority;

and in the same manner has the dignity of the representative body ever

since been trampled under foot by selfishness, or the blind zeal of

vanity.—It is in reality from this epocha, not forgetting such a leading

circumstance, that the commencement of the reign of anarchy may be

fairly dated. For, though a tolerable degree of order was preserved a

considerable time after, because a multitude long accustomed to

servitude do not immediately feel their own strength; yet they soon

began to tyrannize over one part of their representatives, stimulated by

the other. They, however, continued to respect the decrees of the

national assembly especially as there were rarely any passed on which

the public opinion had not been previously consulted, directed as it was

by the popular members, who gained their constant suffrage by the stale

trick of crying out for more freedom. It was the indispensable duty of

the deputies to respect the dignity of their body—Instead of which, for

sinister purposes, many of them instructed the people how to tyrannize

over the assembly; thus deserting the main principle of representation,

the respect due to the majority. This first grand desertion of the

principles, which they affected to adopt in all their purity, led to

public misery; involving these short-sighted men in the very ruin they

had themselves produced by their mean intrigues.

The authoritative demand of the parisians was striking so directly at

the freedom of the assembly, that they must either have been conscious

of wanting power, or they had no conception of dignity of action,

otherwise they would not have suffered the requisition of the people to

have been complied with. Yet they seem to have considered it, if it be

not paradoxical to assert it, as an advancement of their independence;

or, perhaps, as giving security to their authority, childishly proud of

regulating the business of the nation, though under the influence of the

parisian despotism.

It is true, such things are the natural consequence of weakness, the

effects of inexperience, and the more fatal errours of cowardice. And

such will always be the effects of timid, injudicious measures. Men who

have violated the sacred feelings of eternal justice, except they are

hardened in vice, are never afterwards able to look honest men in the

face; and a legislature, watched by an intelligent public, a public that

claims the right of thinking for itself, will never after go beyond it,

or pass one decree which is not likely to be popular.

To consult the public mind in a perfect state of civilization, will not

only be necessary, but it will be productive of the happiest

consequences, generating a government emanating from the sense of the

nation, for which alone it can legally exist. The progress of reason

being gradual, it is the wisdom of the legislature to advance the

simplification of it’s political system, in a manner best adapted to the

state of improvement of the understanding of the nation. The sudden

change which had happened in France, from the most fettering tyranny to

an unbridled liberty, made it scarcely to be expected, that any thing

should be managed with the wisdom of experience: it was morally

impossible. But it is nevertheless a deplorable reflection, that such

evils must follow every revolution, when a change of politics equally

material is required.—Thus it becomes more peculiarly the duty of the

historian to record truth; and comment with freedom.

Every nation, deprived by the progress of it’s civilization of strength

of character, in changing it’s government from absolute despotism to

enlightened freedom, will, most probably, be plunged into anarchy, and

have to struggle with various species of tyranny before it is able to

consolidate it’s liberty; and that, perhaps, cannot be done, until the

manners and amusements of the people are completely changed.

The refinement of the senses, by producing a susceptibility of temper,

which from it’s capriciousness leaves no time for reflection, interdicts

the exercise of the judgment. The lively effusions of mind,

characteristically peculiar to the french, are as violent as the

impressions are transitory: and their benevolence evaporating in sudden

gusts of sympathy, they become cold in the same proportion as their

emotions are quick, and the combinations of their fancy brilliant.

People who are carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, are most

frequently betrayed by their imagination, and commit some errour, the

conviction of which not only damps their heroism, but relaxes the nerve

of common exertions. Freedom is a solid good, that requires to be

treated with reverence and respect.—But, whilst an effeminate race of

heroes are contending for her smiles, with all the blandishments of

gallantry, it is to their more vigorous and natural posterity, that she

will consign herself with all the mild effulgence of artless charms.

CHAPTER III.

THE MOB DEMAND THE KING’S REMOVAL TO PARIS. THIS CITY DESCRIBED. THE

KING REPAIRS TO THE CAPITAL, ESCORTED BY A DEPUTATION OF THE NATIONAL

ASSEMBLY AND THE PARISIAN MILITIA. THE KING’S TITLE CHANGED. PROCEEDINGS

OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. REFLECTIONS ON THE DECLARATION OF RIGHTS.

After the wild tumult, on the morning of the 6th of october, abated, the

king showed himself to the people, in the balcony, and the queen

followed with the dauphin in her arms. At first, he vainly attempted to

speak; but La Fayette informed the people, that his majesty came forward

to assure them, that it should be the business of his life to contribute

to the happiness of his people. _The king at Paris_, exclaimed a voice,

which was quickly re-echoed by the crowd. ‘My children,’ replied the

king, ‘you wish me to be at Paris, and I will go; but it is on the

condition, that my wife and family accompany me.’ A loud shout of _vive

le roi_ testified the extacy of the moment. The king made a sign to

demand silence; and then, with tears in his eyes addressed them

again.—‘Ah! my children, run to the relief of my guards.’ Immediately

two or three appeared in the balcony with the national cockade in their

hats, or the cap of liberty on their heads. The king threw his arms

round one of them, and the people following his example embraced those

whom they had taken prisoners in the court. One sentiment of gladness

seemed to animate the whole concourse of people; and their sensibility

produced as mad demonstrations of joy as lately had been displayed of

ferocity. The soldiery all mingled together, exchanging swords, hats, or

shoulder belts—exhibiting in the most striking manner the prominent

features of the french character.

Meanwhile the assembly, instead of instantly examining into the

particulars of that alarming convulsion, and exerting themselves to

cause a proper respect to be paid to the sovereignty of the law,

childishly gave way to the universal transport: instead of considering

the peremptory wish of the people to remove the king to Paris as a

distrust of their wisdom, as well as of the veracity of the court, which

was in some measure the case, they unanimously agreed to the motion of

Mirabeau, seconded by Barnave, ‘that the king and assembly should not be

separated during the present sessions.’ Mirabeau, and other popular

members, were probably glad to have the person of the king secured,

without being obliged to appear, in an ostensible manner, in the affair;

because they always endeavoured to keep a little hold on the court,

whilst they led the people. Such are the pitiful shifts of men, who are

not guided by the compass of moral principles, which alone render the

character dignified or consistent. Readily then acquiescing in a measure

the most fatal and contemptible, they decreed, that the assembly was

inseparable from the person of the king, and sent a deputation to inform

him of this resolve, previous to his departure.

That Louis, finding all his projects for the present defeated, and after

such a narrow escape for his life, should readily have acceded to the

demand of the multitude, is not in the least extraordinary.—But, that

the representatives of the nation should, without resistance or

remonstrance, have surrendered their authority, and thrown themselves

head-long into the heart of a city, which could be suddenly agitated,

and put into the most disorderly and dangerous commotion, by the

intrigues or folly of any desperate or factious leader of the

multitude—suffering themselves to be environed by it’s wall, shut in by

it’s barriers—in a word—choosing to live in a capacious prison; for men

forced, or drawn into any such situation, are in reality slaves or

prisoners,—almost surpasses belief. This absurd conduct, in fact, can be

accounted for only by considering the national character, and the

different though equally interested views, of the court and popular

parties, in the assembly.

Independent of the additional incense of praise, with which Mirabeau

wished to be continually regaled, in the metropolis, he had a decided

preference for it, frequently asserting, that it was the only place

where society was truly desirable; the people and place, in spite of

their vices and follies, equally attaching the taste they cultivated.

Exclaiming against capitals, the impartial observer must acknowledge,

that much has been done to render this a superb monument of human

ingenuity.

The entrance into Paris, by the Thuilleries, is certainly very

magnificent. The roads have an expansion that agrees with the idea of a

large luxurious city, and with the beauty of the buildings in the noble

square, that first attracts the travellers eye. The lofty trees on each

side of the road, forming charming alleys, in which the people walk and

lounge with an easy gaiety peculiar to the nation, seem calculated

equally to secure their health and promote their pleasure. The barriers,

likewise, are stately edifices, that tower with grandeur, rendering the

view, as the city is approached, truly picturesque.

But—these very barriers, built by Calonne, who liked to have Paris

compared with Athens, excite the most melancholy reflections.—They were

first erected by despotism to secure the payment of an oppressive tax,

and since have fatally assisted to render anarchy more violent by

concentration, cutting off the possibility of innocent victims escaping

from the fury, or the mistake, of the moment.—Thus miscreants have had

sufficient influence to guard these barriers, and caging the objects of

their fear or vengeance, have slaughtered them; or, violating the purity

of justice, have coolly wrested laws hastily formed to serve sinister

designs—changing it’s sacred sword into a dagger, and terming the

assassin’s stab the stroke of justice, because given with the mock

ceremonials of equity, which only rendered the crime more atrocious. The

tyrant, who, bounding over all restraint, braves the eternal law he

tramples on, is not half so detestable as the reptile who crawls under

the shelter of the principles he violates. Such has been the effect of

the enclosure of Paris: and the reflections of wounded humanity

disenchanting the senses, the elegant structures, which served as gates

to this great prison, no longer appear magnificent porticos.

Still the eye of taste rests with pleasure on its buildings and

decorations: proportion and harmony gratify the sight, whilst airy

ornaments seem to toss a simple, playful elegance around. The heavens

too smile, diffusing fragrance: and as the inhabitants trip along the

charming boulevard, the genial atmosphere seems instantaneously to

inspire the animal spirits, which give birth to the varied graces that

glide around. Clustering flowers, with luxuriant pomp, lend their

sweets, giving a freshness to the fairy scene—nature and art combining

with great felicity to charm the senses, and touch the heart, alive to

the social feelings, and to the beauties most dear to fancy.

Why starts the tear of anguish to mingle with recollections that

sentiment fosters—even in obedience to reason?—For it is wise to be

happy!—and nature and virtue will always open inlets of joy to the

heart. But how quickly vanishes this prospect of delights! of delights

such as man ought to taste!—The cavalcade of death moves along, shedding

mildew over all the beauties of the scene, and blasting every joy! The

elegance of the palaces and buildings is revolting, when they are viewed

as prisons, and the sprightliness of the people disgusting, when they

are hastening to view the operations of the guillotine, or carelessly

passing over the earth stained with blood. Exasperated humanity then,

with bitterness of soul, devotes the city to destruction; whilst turning

from such a nest of crimes, it seeks for consolation only in the

conviction, that, as the world is growing wiser, it must become happier;

and that, as the cultivation of the soil meliorates a climate, the

improvement of the understanding will prevent those baneful excesses of

passion which poison the heart.

A deputation of the national assembly accompanied the royal family to

Paris, as well as the parisian militia. A number of the women preceded

them, mounted on the carriages which they had taken in their way to

Versailles, and on the cannons, covered with national cockades, and

dragging in the dirt those that were considered as symbols of

aristocracy. Soon after they set out, either by chance, or, which is

more probable, pursuant to a plan contrived by some person in power,

forty or fifty loads of wheat and flour fell into the procession, just

before the king, giving weight to the exclamation of the populace, that

they had brought the baker and his family to town.

The assembly continued to sit at Versailles till the nineteenth; and

several interesting debates were entered upon, particularly one brought

forward by the bishop of Autun, respecting the appropriation of the

estates of the clergy to supply the exigences of the government. The

abolition of _lettres de cachet_ was considered, and a fresh

organization of the municipalities proposed; but as none of these

motions were carried before they were more fully discussed at Paris, it

seems best to bring the different arguments on those important subjects

under one point of view.

Settling the articles of the constitution, however, which previously

occupied them, several frivolous discussions, respecting the style of

expression to be adopted to signify the king’s acceptance of their

decrees, were lengthened out with warmth, and puerile objections made to

ancient forms—that were merely forms. After some disputation, the title

of the monarch was changed from king of France, with the rest of the

formule, for that of king of the French; because Rousseau had remarked,

perhaps fastidiously, that the title ought to express rather the chief

of the people, than the master of the soil.

The intended removal of the assembly to Paris also produced several warm

debates. This resolution, indeed, excited, not without reason,

apprehensions in the breasts of some of the deputies, relative to their

personal safety, should they, in future, venture to oppose any of the

motions of the popular party, which that party instructed the mob of

Paris to support.

The president, Mounier, pleading his bad state of health, begged to be

dismissed; and Lally-Tolendal, thinking that he could not stem the

torrent, retired from public business at the same time. A great many of

the members hinting their fears, that the assembly would not be free at

Paris, on various pretexts demanded such a number of passports, as to

make the president express some apprehension lest the assembly should

thus indirectly dissolve itself; whilst other deputies uttered a

profusion of indecent sarcasms on a conduct, which the behaviour of the

populace, and even of these very orators, seemed to justify. Mirabeau,

who so earnestly desired to be at Paris, ridiculed with unbecoming

bitterness every opposition made to the removal of the assembly; yet,

listening to the representation, that the allowing so many malecontents

to retire into the provinces might produce dangerous fermentations, he

proposed that no passport should be granted, till the deputy who

demanded it had made known his reason for so doing to the assembly. A

letter from the king, notifying his intention of residing most part of

his time at Paris, and expressing his assurance, that they did not mean

to separate themselves from him, now requested them to send

commissioners to Paris, to search for a proper place, where they might

in future hold their sessions. They accordingly determined to go

thither, conformably to the decree of the sixth of october, when a

convenient situation should be found.

After this determination, several members gave an account of the gross

insults they had received at Paris. One in particular, who was not

obnoxious to the public, narrowly escaped with life, only because he was

mistaken for a deputy against whom the mob had vowed vengeance. Another,

who had also been insulted, with proper spirit moved, that a decree

respecting libels should instantly be passed. ‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to be

led to liberty only by licentiousness? No; the people, deceived and

intoxicated, are rendered furious. How many times (he added) have I

lamented the impetuosity of this assembly, who have accustomed the

public, seated in our galleries, to praise, to blame, to deride our

opinions, without understanding them.—And who has inspired them with

this audacity?’—He was interrupted by signs of disapprobation; and

personalities now disgraced the debate, in which Mirabeau mingled

satirical observations and retorts, that did more credit to his

abilities than to his heart. But, a day or two after, recollecting

himself, he presented the plan of a decree to prevent riots, which he

introduced, by saying, that it was an imitation, though not a copy, of

the English riot act.

The evening before the departure of the assembly for Paris, passports

being still demanded with earnestness, a decree was made, ‘that

passports should be granted only for a short and determinate time, on

account of urgent business; and that unlimited passports, in cases of

ill health, should not be granted before the deputies were replaced by

their substitutes;’ and further, cutting a knot that might have revived

old claims and animosities, had it been brought forward alone, they

decreed, ‘that in future the substitutes should be nominated by the

citizens at large; and that, eight days after the first session at

Paris, there should be a call of the house; suspending till then the

consideration of the propriety of printing and sending to the provinces

the list of the absent deputies.’

The constraining so many members to remain at their posts, and

condemning a man to a state of ignominious servitude, whilst they were

talking of nothing but liberty, was as contemptibly little, as the

policy was injudicious. For if the king pretended to acquiesce in their

measures the better to disguise his real intention, which doubtless was

to fly as soon as he could find an opportunity, or was at liberty, what

did they gain? For as they must have known, that his emancipation would

be the consequence of his acceptance of the constitution, his

imprisonment could only tend to retard their operations: yet they had

neither the magnanimity to allow him to depart with an handsome stipend,

if such were his wish; nor to grant him such a portion of power, in the

new constitution, as would, by rendering him respectable in his own

eyes, have reconciled him to the deprivation of the rest. But, as things

were settled, it was morally certain, that, whenever his friends were

ready, a blow would be directed against them, which they were then as

well prepared to meet as they could be at a subsequent period.

Under the influence of fixed systems, certain moral effects are as

infallible as physical.—That every insidious attempt would be made by

the courts of Europe, to overturn the new government of France, was

therefore certain; and, unless they had all been overturned at the same

time, was as much to be expected as any effect from a natural cause. The

most likely mean then to have parried the evil would have been a decided

firmness of conduct, which, flowing from a real love of justice,

produces true magnanimity; and not a parading affectation of the virtues

of romans, with the degenerate minds of their posterity.

Precision, wisdom, and courage, never fail to secure the admiration and

respect of all descriptions of people; and every government thus

directed will keep in awe it’s licentious neighbours. But fear and

timidity betray symptoms of weakness, that, creating contempt and

disrespect, encourage the attempts of ambitious despots; so that the

noblest causes are sometimes ruined or vilified by the folly or

indiscretion of their directors. All Europe saw, and all good men saw

with dread, that the french had undertaken to support a cause, which

they had neither sufficient purity of heart, nor maturity of judgment,

to conduct with moderation and prudence; whilst malevolence has been

gratified by the errours they have committed, attributing that

imperfection to the theory they adopted, which was applicable only to

the folly of their practice.

However, frenchmen have reason to rejoice, and posterity will be

grateful, for what was done by the assembly.

The economy of government had been so ably treated by the writers of the

present age, that it was impossible for them, acting on the great scale

of public good, not to lay the foundations of many useful plans, as they

reformed many grievous and grinding abuses.—Accordingly we find, though

they had not sufficient penetration to foresee the dreadful consequences

of years of anarchy, the probable result of their manner of proceeding,

still by following, in some degree, the instructions of their

constituents, who had digested, from the bright lines of philosophical

truths, the prominent rules of political science, they, in laying the

main pillars of the constitution, established beyond a possibility of

obliteration, the great principles of liberty and equality.

It is allowed by all parties, that civilization is a blessing, so far as

it gives security to person and property, and the milder graces of taste

to society and manners. If, therefore, the polishing of man, and the

improvement of his intellect, become necessary to secure these

advantages, it follows, of course, that the more general such

improvement grows, the greater the extension of human happiness.

In a savage state man is distinguished only by superiority of genius,

prowess, and eloquence. I say eloquence, for I believe, that in this

stage of society he is most eloquent, because most natural. For it is

only in the progress of governments, that hereditary distinctions,

cruelly abridging rational liberty, have prevented man from rising to

his just point of elevation, by the exercise of his improveable

faculties.

That there is a superiority of natural genius among men does not admit

of dispute; and that in countries the most free there will always be

distinctions proceeding from superiority of judgment, and the power of

acquiring more delicacy of taste, which may be the effect of the

peculiar organization, or whatever cause produces it, is an

incontestible truth. But it is a palpable errour to suppose, that men of

every class are not equally susceptible of common improvement: if

therefore it be the contrivance of any government, to preclude from a

chance of improvement the greater part of the citizens of the state, it

can be considered in no other light than as a monstrous tyranny, a

barbarous oppression, equally injurious to the two parties, though in

different ways. For all the advantages of civilization cannot be felt,

unless it pervades the whole mass, humanizing every description of

men—and then it is the first of blessings, the true perfection of man.

The melioration of the old government of France arose entirely from a

degree of urbanity acquired by the higher class, which insensibly

produced, by a kind of natural courtesy, a small portion of civil

liberty. But, as for political liberty, there was not the shadow of it;

or could it ever have been generated under such a system: because,

whilst men were prevented not only from arriving at public offices, or

voting for the nomination of others to fill them, but even from

attaining any distinct idea of what was meant by liberty in a practical

sense, the great bulk of the people were worse than savages; retaining

much of the ignorance of barbarians, after having poisoned the noble

qualities of nature by imbibing some of the habits of degenerate

refinement. To the national assembly it is, that France is indebted for

having prepared a simple code of instruction, containing all the truths

necessary to give a comprehensive perception of political science; which

will enable the ignorant to climb the mount of knowledge, whence they

may view the ruins of the ingenious fabric of despotism, that had so

long disgraced the dignity of man by it’s odious and debasing claims.

The declaration of rights contains an aggregate of principles the most

beneficial; yet so simple, that the most ordinary capacity cannot fail

to comprehend their import. It begins by asserting, that the rights of

men are equal, and that no distinctions can exist in a wholesome

government, but what are founded on public utility. Then showing, that

political associations are intended only for the preservation of the

natural and imprescriptible rights of man, which are his liberty,

security of property, and resistance against oppression; and asserting

also, that the nation is the source of all sovereignty; it delineates,

in a plain and perspicuous manner, in what these rights, and this

sovereignty, consist. In this delineation men may learn, that, in the

exercise of their natural rights, they have the power of doing whatever

does not injure another; and that this power has no limits, which are

not determined by law—the laws being at the same time an expression of

the will of the community, because all the citizens of the state, either

personally, or by their representatives, have a right to concur in the

formation.

Thus, having taught the citizens the fundamental principles of a

legitimate government, it proceeds to show how the opinion of each may

be ascertained; which he has a right to give personally, or by his

representatives, to determine the necessity of public contributions,

their appropriation, mode of assessment, and duration.

The simplicity of these principles, promulged by the men of genius of

the last and present ages, and their justness, acknowledged by every

description of unprejudiced men, had not been recognised by any senate

or government in Europe; and it was an honour worthy to be reserved for

the representatives of twenty-five millions of men, rising to the sense

and feeling of rational beings, to be the first to dare to ratify such

sacred and beneficial truths—truths, the existence of which had been

eternal; and which required only to be made known, to be generally

acknowledged—truths, which have been fostered by the genius of

philosophy, whilst hereditary wealth and the bayonet of despotism have

continually been opposed to their establishment.

The publicity of a government acting conformably to the principles of

reason, in contradistinction to the maxims of oppression, affords the

people an opportunity, or at least a chance, of judging of the wisdom

and moderation of their ministers; and the eye of discernment, when

permitted to make known it’s observations, will always prove a check on

the profligacy or dangerous ambition of aspiring men.—So that in

contemplating the extension of representative systems of polity, we have

solid ground on which to rest the expectation—that wars and their

calamitous effects will become less frequent, in proportion as the

people, who are obliged to support them with their sweat and blood, are

consulted respecting their necessity and consequences.

Such consultations can take place under representative systems of

government only—under systems which demand the responsibility of their

ministers, and secure the publicity of their political conduct. The

mysteries of courts, and the intrigues of their parasites, have

continually deluged Europe with the blood of it’s most worthy and heroic

citizens, and there is no specific cure for such evils, but by enabling

the people to form an opinion respecting the subject of dispute.

The court of Versailles, with powers the most ample, was the most busy

and insidious of any in Europe; and the horrours which she has

occasioned, at different periods, were as incalculable, as her ambition

was unbounded, and her councils base, unprincipled, and dishonourable.

If, then, it were only for abolishing her sway, Europe ought to be

thankful for a change, that, by altering the political systems of the

most improved quarter of the globe, must ultimately lead to universal

freedom, virtue, and happiness.

But it is to be presumed, when the effervescence, which now agitates the

prejudices of the whole continent, subsides, the justness of the

principles brought forward in the declaration of the rights of men and

citizens will be generally granted; and that governments, in future,

acquiring reason and dignity, feeling for the sufferings of the people,

whilst reprobating the sacrilege of tyranny, will make it their

principal object, to counteract it’s baneful tendency, by restraining

within just bounds the ambition of individuals.

CHAPTER IV.

PROGRESS OF REFORM. THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. CAPITALS.

THE FRENCH NOT PROPERLY QUALIFIED FOR THE REVOLUTION. SAVAGE COMPARED

WITH CIVILIZED MAN. EFFECTS OF EXTRAVAGANCE—OF COMMERCE—AND OF

MANUFACTURES. EXCUSE FOR THE FEROCITY OF THE PARISIANS.

People thinking for themselves have more energy in their voice, than any

government, which it is possible for human wisdom to invent; and every

government not aware of this sacred truth will, at some period, be

suddenly overturned. Whilst men in a savage state preserve their

independence, they adopt no regular system of policy, nor ever attempt

to digest their rude code of laws into a constitution, to ensure

political liberty. Consequently we find in every country, after it’s

civilization has arrived at a certain height, that the people, the

moment they are displeased with their rulers, begin to clamour against

them; and, finally rejecting all authority but their own will, in

breaking the shackles of folly or tyranny, they glut their resentment by

the mischievous destruction of the works of ages, only considering them

as the moments of their servitude.

From the social disposition of man, in proportion as he becomes

civilized, he will mingle more and more with society. The first interest

he takes in the business of his fellow-men is in that of his neighbour;

next he contemplates the comfort, misery, and happiness of the nation to

which he belongs, investigates the degree of wisdom and justice in the

political system, under which he lives, and, striding into the regions

of science, his researches embrace all human kind. Thus he is enabled to

estimate the portion of evil or good which the government of his country

produces, compared with that of others; and the comparison, granting him

superiour powers of mind, leads him to conceive a model of a more

perfect form.

This spirit of inquiry first manifests itself in hamlets; when his views

of improvement are confined to local advantages: but the approximation

of different districts leading to further intercourse, roads of

communication are opened, until a central or favourite spot becomes the

vortex of men and things. Then the rising spires, pompous domes, and

majestic monuments, point out the capital; the focus of information, the

reservoir of genius, the school of arts, the seat of voluptuous

gratification, and the hot-bed of vice and immorality.

The centrifugal rays of knowledge and science now stealing through the

empire, the whole intellectual faculties of man partake of their

influence, and one general sentiment governs the civil and political

body. In the progress of these improvements the state undergoing a

variety of changes, the happiness or misery produced occasions a

diversity of opinions; and to prevent confusion, absolute governments

have been tolerated by the most enlightened part of the people. But,

probably, this toleration was merely the effect of the strong social

feelings of men; who preferred tranquillity, and the prosperity of their

country, to a resistance, which, judging from the ignorance of their

fellow citizens, they believed would bring more harm than good in it’s

train. In short, however long a combination of tyranny has retarded the

progress, it has been one of the advantages of the large cities of

Europe] to light up the sparks of reason, and to extend the principles

of truth.

Such is the good and evil flowing from the capitals of states, that

during the infancy of governments, though they tend to corrupt and

enervate the mind, they accelerate the introduction of science, and give

the tone to the national sentiments and taste.

But this influence is extremely gradual; and it requires a great length

of time, for the remote corners of the empire to experience either the

one, or the other of these effects. Hence we have seen the inhabitants

of a metropolis feeble and vitiated, and those of the provinces robust

and virtuous. Hence we have seen oppositions in a city (riots as they

are called) to illegal governments instantly defeated, and their leaders

hanged or tortured; because the judgment of the state was not

sufficiently matured to support the struggle of the unhappy victims in a

righteous cause. And hence it has happened, that the despots of the

world have found it necessary to maintain large standing armies, in

order to counteract the effects of truth and reason.

The continuation of the feudal system, however, for a great length of

time, by giving an overgrown influence to the nobility of France, had

contributed, in no small degree, to counteract the despotism of her

kings. Thus it was not until after the arbitrary administration of

Richelieu, who had terrified the whole order by a tyranny peculiar to

himself, that the insidious Mazarine broke the independent spirit of the

nation by introducing the sale of honours; and that Louis XIV, by the

magnificence of his follies, and the meretricious decorations of stars,

crosses, and other marks of distinction, or badges of slavery, drew the

nobles from their castles; and, by concentrating the pleasures and

wealth of the kingdom in Paris, the luxury of the court became

commensurate to the product of the nation. Besides, the encouragement

given to enervating pleasures, and the venality of titles, purchased

either with money, or ignoble services, soon rendered the nobility as

notorious for effeminacy as they had been illustrious for heroism in the

days of the gallant Henry.

The arts had already formed a school, and men of science and literature

were hurrying from every part of the kingdom to the metropolis, in

search of employment and of honour; and whilst it was giving it’s tone

to the empire, the parisian taste was pervading Europe.

The vanity of leading the fashions, in the higher orders of society, is

not the smallest weakness produced by the sluggishness into which people

of quality naturally fall. The depravity of manners, and the sameness of

pleasure, which compose a life of idleness, are sure to produce an

insupportable _ennui_; and, in proportion to the stupidity of the man,

or as his sensibility becomes deadened, he has recourse to variety,

finding a zest only from a new creation of charms; and commonly the most

unnatural are necessary to rouse sickly, fastidious senses. Still in the

same degree as the refinement of sentiment, and the improvement of taste

advance, the company of celebrated literary characters is sought after

with avidity; and from the prevalence of fashion, the empire of wit

succeeds the reign of formal insipidity, after the squeamish palate has

been rendered delicate even by the nauseous banquets of voluptuousness.

This is the natural consequence of the improvement of manners, the

harbinger of reason; and from the ratio of it’s advancement throughout

society, we are enabled to estimate the progress of political science.

For no sooner had the disquisition of philosophical subjects become

general in the select parties of amusement, extending by degrees to

every class of society, than the rigour of the ancient government of

France began to soften; till it’s mildness became so considerable, that

superficial observers have attributed the exercise of lenity in the

administration to the wisdom and excellence of the system itself.

A confederacy of philosophers, whose opinions furnished the food of

colloquial entertainment, gave a turn for instructive and useful reading

to the leaders of circles, and drew the attention of the nation to the

principles of political and civil government. Whilst by the compilation

of the Encyclopedia, the repository of their thoughts, as an abstract

work, they eluded the dangerous vigilance of absolute ministers; thus in

a body disseminating those truths in the economy of finance, which,

perhaps, they would not have had sufficient courage separately to have

produced in individual publications; or, if they had, they would most

probably have been suppressed.

This is one of the few instances of an association of men becoming

useful, instead of being cramped by joint exertions. And the cause is

clear:—the work did not require a little party spirit; but each had a

distinct subject of investigation to pursue with solitary energy. His

destination was traced upon a calm sea, which could not expose him to

the Scylla or Charybdis of vanity or interest.

The economists, carrying away the palm, from their opponents, showed

that the prosperity of a state depends on the freedom of industry; that

talents should be permitted to find their level; that the unshackling of

commerce is the only secret to render it flourishing, and answer more

effectually the ends for which it is politically necessary; and that the

imposts should be laid upon the surplus remaining, after the husbandman

has been reimbursed for his labour and expences.

Ideas so new, and yet so just and simple, could not fail to produce a

great effect on the minds of frenchmen; who, constitutionally attached

to novelty and ingenious speculations, were sure to be enamoured with a

prospect of consolidating the great advantages of such a novel and

enlightened system; and without calculating the danger of attacking old

prejudices; nay, without ever considering, that it was a much easier

task to pull down than to build up, they gave themselves little trouble

to examine the gradual steps by which other countries have attained

their degree of political improvement.

The many vexatious taxes, which under the french government not only

enervated the exertions of unprivileged persons, stagnating the live

stream of trade, but were extremely teasing inconveniences to every

private man, who could not travel from one place to another without

being stopped at barriers, and searched by officers of different

descriptions, were almost insuperable impediments in the way of the

improvements of industry: and the abridgment of liberty was not more

grievous in it’s pecuniary consequences, than in the personal

mortification of being compelled to observe regulations as troublesome

as they were at variance with sound policy.

Irritations of the temper produce more poignant sensations of disgust

than serious injuries. Frenchmen, indeed, had been so long accustomed to

these vexatious forms, that, like the ox who is daily yoked, they were

no longer galled in spirit, or exhaled their angry ebullitions in a

song. Still it might have been supposed, that after reflecting little,

and talking much, about the sublimity and superiour excellence of the

plans of _french_ writers above those of other nations, they would

become as passionate for liberty, as a man restrained by some idle

religious vow is to possess a mistress, to whose charms the imagination

has lent all it’s own world of graces.

Besides, the very manner of living in France gives a lively turn to the

character of the people; for by the destruction of the animal juices, in

dressing their food, they are subject to none of that dulness, the

effect of more nutritive diet in other countries; and this gaiety is

increased by the moderate quantity of weak wine, which they drink at

their meats, bidding defiance to phlegm. The people also living entirely

in villages and towns are more social; so that the tone of the capital,

the instant it had a note distinct from that of the court, became the

key of the nation; though the inhabitants of the provinces polished

their manners with less danger to their morals, or natural simplicity of

character. But this mode of peopling the country tended more to civilize

the inhabitants, than to change the face of the soil, or lead to

agricultural improvements. For it is by residing in the midst of their

land, that farmers make the most of it, in every sense of the word—so

that the rude state of husbandry, and the awkwardness of the implements

used by these ingenious people, may be imputed solely to this cause.

The situation of France was likewise very favourable for collecting the

information, acquired in other parts of the world. Paris, having been

made a thoroughfare to all the kingdoms on the continent, received in

it’s bosom strangers from every quarter; and itself resembling a full

hive, the very drones buzzed into every corner all the sentiments of

liberty, which it is possible for a people to possess, who have never

been enlightened by the broad sunshine of freedom; yet more romantically

enthusiastic, probably, for that very reason. Paris, therefore, having

not only disseminated information, but presented herself as a bulwark to

oppose the despotism of the court, standing the brunt of the fray, seems

with some reason, to pride herself on being the author of the

revolution.

Though the liberty of the press had not existed in any part of the

world, England and America excepted, still the disquisition of political

questions had long occupied the intelligent parts of Europe; and in

France, more than in any other country, books written with licentious

freedom were handed from house to house, with the circumspection that

irritates curiosity. Not to lay great stress on the universality of the

language, which made one general opinion on the benefits arising from

the advancement of science and reason pervade the neighbouring states,

particularly Germany; where original compositions began to take place of

that laborious erudition, which being employed only in the elucidation

of ancient writers, the judgment lies dormant, or is merely called into

action to weigh the import of words rather than to estimate the value of

things. In Paris, likewise, a knot of ingenious, if not profound

writers, twinkled their light into every circle; for being caressed by

the great, they did not inhabit the homely recesses of indigence,

rusticating their manners as they cultivated their understandings; on

the contrary, the finesse required to convey their free sentiments in

their books, broken into the small shot of innuendoes, gave an oiliness

to their conversation, and enabled them to take the lead at tables, the

voluptuousness of which was grateful to philosophers, rather of the

epicurean than the stoic sect.

It had long been the fashion to talk of liberty, and to dispute on

hypothetical and logical points of political economy; and these

disputations disseminated gleams of truth, and generated more demagogues

than had ever appeared in any modern city.—The number exceeded, perhaps,

any comparison with that of Athens itself.

The habit also of passing a part of most of their evenings at some

theatre gave them an ear for harmony of language, and a fastidious taste

for sheer declamation, in which a sentimental jargon extinguishes all

the simplicity and fire of passion: the great number of play-houses[34],

and the moderate prices of the pit and different ranges of boxes,

bringing it within the compass of every citizen to frequent the

amusement so much beloved by the french.

The arrangement of sounds, and the adjustment of masculine and feminine

rhymes, being the secrets of their poetry, the pomp of diction gives a

semblance of grandeur to common observations and hackneyed sentiments;

because the french language, though copious in the phrases that give

each shade of sentiment, has not, like the italian, the english, the

german, a phraseology peculiar to poetry; yet it’s happy turns,

equivocal, nay even concise expressions, and numerous epithets, which,

when ingeniously applied, convey a sentence, or afford matter for half a

dozen, make it better adapted to oratorical flourishes than that of any

other nation. The french therefore are all rhetoricians, and they have a

singular fund of superficial knowledge, caught in the tumult of pleasure

from the shallow stream of conversation; so that if they have not the

depth of thought which is obtained only by contemplation, they have all

the shrewdness of sharpened wit; and their acquirements are so near

their tongue’s end, that they never miss an opportunity of saying a

pertinent thing, or tripping up, by a smart retort, the arguments with

which they have not strength fairly to wrestle.

Every political good carried to the extreme must be productive of evil;

yet every poison has it’s antidote; and there is a pitch of luxury and

refinement, which, when reached, will overturn all the absolute

governments in the world. The ascertainment of these antidotes is a task

the most difficult; and whilst it remains imperfect, a number of men

will continue to be the victims of mistaken applications. Like the

empirics, who bled a patient to death to prevent a mortification from

becoming fatal, the tyrants of the earth have had recourse to cutting

off the heads, or torturing the bodies, of those persons who have

attempted to check their sway, or doubt their omnipotence. But, though

thousands have perished the victims of empirics, and of despots, yet the

improvements made both in medicine and moral philosophy have kept a

sure, though gradual pace.—And, if men have not clearly discovered a

specific remedy for every evil, physical, moral, and political, it is to

be presumed, that the accumulation of experimental facts will greatly

tend to lessen them in future.

Whilst, therefore, the sumptuous galas of the court of France were the

grand source of the refinement of the arts, taste became the antidote to

_ennui_; and when sentiment had taken place of chivalrous and gothic

tournaments, the reign of philosophy succeeded that of the imagination.

And though the government, enveloped in precedents, adjusted still the

idle ceremonials, which were no longer imposing, blind to the

imperceptible change of things and opinions, as if their faculties were

bound by an eternal frost, the progress was invariable; till, reaching a

certain point, Paris, which from the particular formation of the empire

had been such an useful head to it, began to be the cause of dreadful

calamities, extending from individuals to the nation, and from the

nation to Europe. Thus it is, that we are led to blame those, who

insist, that, because a state of things has been productive of good, it

is always respectable; when, on the contrary, the endeavouring to keep

alive any hoary establishment, beyond it’s natural date, is often

pernicious and always useless.

In the infancy of governments, or rather of civilization, courts seem to

be necessary to accelerate the improvement of arts and manners, to lead

to that of science and morals. Large capitals are the obvious

consequences of the riches and luxury of courts; but as, after they have

arrived at a certain magnitude and degree of refinement, they become

dangerous to the freedom of the people, and incompatible with the safety

of a republican government, it may be questioned whether Paris will not

occasion more disturbance in settling the new order of things, than is

equivalent to the good she produced by accelerating the epocha of the

revolution.

However, it appears very certain, that should a republican government be

consolidated, Paris must rapidly crumble into decay. It’s rise and

splendour were owing chiefly, if not entirely, to the old system of

government; and since the foundation of it’s luxury has been shaken, and

it is not likely that the disparting structure will ever again rest

securely on it’s basis, we may fairly infer, that, in proportion as the

charms of solitary reflection and agricultural recreations are felt, the

people, by leaving the villages and cities, will give a new complexion

to the face of the country—and we may then look for a turn of mind more

solid, principles more fixed, and a conduct more consistent and

virtuous.

The occupations and habits of life have a wonderful influence on the

forming mind; so great, that the superinductions of art stop the growth

of the spontaneous shoots of nature, till it is difficult to distinguish

natural from factitious morals and feelings; and as the energy of

thinking will always proceed, in a great measure, either from our

education or manner of living, the frivolity of the french character may

be accounted for, without taking refuge in the old hiding place of

ignorance—occult causes.

When it is the object of education to prepare the pupil to please every

body, and of course to deceive, accomplishments are the one thing

needful; and the desire to be admired ever being uppermost, the passions

are subjugated, or all drawn into the whirlpool of egotism[35]. This

gives to each person, however different the temper, a tincture of

vanity, and that weak vacillation of opinion, which is incompatible with

what we term character.

Thus a frenchman, like most women, may be said to have no character

distinguishable from that of the nation; unless little shades, and

casual lights, be allowed to constitute an essential characteristic.

What then could have been expected, when their ambition was mostly

confined to dancing gracefully, entering a room with easy assurance, and

smiling on and complimenting the very persons whom they meant to

ridicule at the next fashionable assembly? The learning to fence with

skill, it is true, was useful to a people, whose false notions of honour

required that at least a drop of blood should atone for the shadow of an

affront. The knack also of uttering sprightly repartees became a

necessary art, to supply the place of that real interest only to be

nourished in the affectionate intercourse of domestic intimacy, where

confidence enlarges the heart it opens. Besides, the desire of eating of

every dish at table, no matter if there were fifty, and the custom of

separating immediately after the repast, destroy the social affections,

reminding a stranger of the vulgar saying—‘every man for himself, and

God for us all.’ After these cursory observations, it is not going too

far to advance, that the french were in some respects the most

unqualified of any people in Europe to undertake the important work in

which they are embarked.

Whilst pleasure was the sole object of living among the higher orders of

society, it was the business of the lower to give life to their joys,

and convenience to their luxury. This cast-like division, by destroying

all strength of character in the former, and debasing the latter to

machines, taught frenchmen to be more ingenious in their contrivances

for pleasure and show, than the men of any other country; whilst, with

respect to the abridgment of labour in the mechanic arts, or to promote

the comfort of common life, they were far behind. They had never, in

fact, acquired an idea of that independent, comfortable situation, in

which contentment is sought rather than happiness; because the slaves of

pleasure or power can be roused only by lively emotions and extravagant

hopes. Indeed they have no word in their vocabulary to express

_comfort_—that state of existence, in which reason renders serene and

useful the days, which passion would only cheat with flying dreams of

happiness.

A change of character cannot be so sudden as some sanguine calculators

expect: yet by the destruction of the rights of primogeniture, a greater

degree of equality of property is sure to follow; and as Paris cannot

maintain it’s splendour, but by the trade of luxury, which can never be

carried to the same height it was formerly, the opulent having strong

motives to induce them to live more in the country, they must acquire

new inclinations and opinions.—As a change also of the system of

education and domestic manners will be a natural consequence of the

revolution, the french will insensibly rise to a dignity of character

far above that of the present race; and then the fruit of their liberty,

ripening gradually, will have a relish not to be expected during it’s

crude and forced state.

The late arrangement of things seems to have been the common effect of

an absolute government, a domineering priesthood, and a great inequality

of fortune; and whilst it completely destroyed the most important end of

society, the comfort and independence of the people, it generated the

most shameful depravity and weakness of intellect; so that we have seen

the french engaged in a business the most sacred to mankind, giving, by

their enthusiasm, splendid examples of their fortitude at one moment,

and at another, by their want of firmness and deficiency of judgment,

affording the most glaring and fatal proofs of the just estimate, which

all nations have formed of their character.

Men so thoroughly sophisticated, it was to be supposed, would never

conduct any business with steadiness and moderation: but it required a

knowledge of the nation and their manners, to form a distinct idea of

their disgusting conceit and wretched egotism; so far surpassing all the

calculations of reason, that, perhaps, should not a faithful picture be

now sketched, posterity would be at loss to account for their folly; and

attribute to madness, what arose from imbecility.

The natural feelings of man seldom become so contaminated and debased as

not sometimes to let escape a gleam of the generous fire, an ethereal

spark of the soul; and it is these glowing emotions, in the inmost

recesses of the heart, which have continued to feed feelings, that on

sudden occasions manifest themselves with all their pristine purity and

vigour. But, by the habitual slothfulness of rusty intellects, or the

depravity of the heart, lulled into hardness on the lascivious couch of

pleasure, those heavenly beams are obscured, and man appears either an

hideous monster, a devouring beast; or a spiritless reptile, without

dignity or humanity.

Those miserable wretches who crawl under the feet of others are seldom

to be found among savages, where men accustomed to exercise and

temperance are, in general, brave, hospitable, and magnanimous; and it

is only as they surrender their rights, that they lose those noble

qualities of the heart. The ferocity of the savage is of a distinct

nature from that of the degenerate slaves of tyrants. One murders from

mistaken notions of courage; yet he respects his enemy in proportion to

his fortitude, and contempt of death: the other assassinates without

remorse, whilst his trembling nerves betray the weakness of his

affrighted soul at every appearance of danger. Among the former, men are

respected according to their abilities; consequently idle drones are

driven out of this society; but among the latter, men are raised to

honours and employments in proportion as a talent for intrigue, the sure

proof of littleness of mind, has rendered them servile. The most

melancholy reflections are produced by a retrospective glance over the

rise and progress of the governments of different countries, when we are

compelled to remark, that flagrant follies and atrocious crimes have

been more common under the governments of modern Europe, than in any of

the ancient nations, if we except the jews. Sanguinary tortures,

insidious poisonings, and dark assassinations, have alternately

exhibited a race of monsters in human shape, the contemplation of whose

ferocity chills the blood, and darkens every enlivening expectation of

humanity: but we ought to observe, to reanimate the hopes of

benevolence, that the perpetration of these horrid deeds has arisen from

a despotism in the government, which reason is teaching us to remedy.

Sometimes, it is true, restrained by an iron police, the people appear

peaceable, when they are Only stunned; so that we find, whenever the mob

has broken loose, the fury of the populace has been shocking and

calamitous. These considerations account for the contradictions in the

french character, which must strike a stranger: for robberies are very

rare in France, where daily frauds and sly pilfering, prove, that the

lower class have as little honesty as sincerity. Besides murder and

cruelty almost always show the dastardly ferocity of fear in France;

whilst in England, where the spirit of liberty has prevailed, it is

usual for an highwayman, demanding your money, not only to avoid

barbarity, but to behave with humanity, and even complaisance.

Degeneracy of morals, with polished manners, produces the worst of

passions, which floating through the social body, the genial current of

natural feelings has been poisoned; and, committing crimes with

trembling inquietude, the culprits have not only drawn on themselves the

vengeance of the law, but thrown an odium on their nature, that has

blackened the face of humanity. And whilst it’s temple has been

sacrilegiously profaned by the drops of blood, which have issued from

the very hearts of the sad victims of their folly; a hardness of temper,

under the veil of sentiment, calling it vice, has prevented our sympathy

from leading us to examine into the sources of the atrocity of our

species, and obscured the true cause of disgraceful and vicious habits.

Since the existence of courts, whose aggrandisement has been conspicuous

in the same degree as the miseries of the debased people have

accumulated, the convenience and comfort of men have been sacrificed to

the ostentatious display of pomp and ridiculous pageantry. For every

order of men, from the beggar to the king, has tended to introduce that

extravagance into society, which equally blasts domestic virtue and

happiness. The prevailing custom of living beyond their income has had

the most baneful effect on the independence of individuals of every

class in England, as well as in France; so that whilst they have lived

in habits of idleness, they have been drawn into excesses, which,

proving ruinous, produced consequences equally pernicious to the

community, and degrading to the private character. Extravagance forces

the peer to prostitute his talents and influence for a place, to repair

his broken fortune; and the country gentleman, becomes venal in the

senate, to enable himself to live on a par with him, or reimburse

himself for the expences of electioneering, into which he was led by

sheer vanity. The professions, on the same account, become equally

unprincipled. The one, whose characteristic ought to be integrity,

descends to chicanery; whilst another trifles with the health, of which

it knows all the importance. The merchant likewise enters into

speculations so closely bordering on fraudulency, that common straight

forward minds can scarcely distinguish the devious art of selling any

thing for a price far beyond that necessary to ensure a just profit,

from sheer dishonesty, aggravated by hard-heartedness, when it is to

take advantage of the necessities of the indigent.

The destructive influence of commerce, it is true, carried on by men who

are eager by overgrown riches to partake of the respect paid to

nobility, is felt in a variety of ways. The most pernicious, perhaps, is

it’s producing an aristocracy of wealth, which degrades mankind, by

making them only exchange savageness for tame servility, instead of

acquiring the urbanity of improved reason. Commerce also, overstocking a

country with people, obliges the majority to become manufacturers rather

than husbandmen; and then the division of labour, solely to enrich the

proprietor, renders the mind entirely inactive. The time which, a

celebrated writer says, is sauntered away, in going from one part of an

employment to another, is the very time that preserves the man from

degenerating into a brute; for every one must have observed how much

more intelligent are the blacksmiths, carpenters, and masons in the

country, than the journeymen in great towns; and, respecting morals,

there is no making a comparison. The very gait of the man, who is his

own master, is so much more steady than the slouching step of the

servant of a servant, that it is unnecessary to ask which proves by his

actions he has the most independence of character.

The acquiring of a fortune is likewise the least arduous road to

pre-eminence, and the most sure; thus are whole knots of men turned into

machines, to enable a keen speculator to become wealthy; and every noble

principle of nature is eradicated by making a man passes his life in

stretching wire, pointing a pin, heading a nail, or spreading a sheet of

paper on a plain surface. Besides, it is allowed, that all associations

of men render them sensual, and consequently selfish; and whilst lazy

friars are driven out of their cells as stagnate bodies that corrupt

society, it may admit of a doubt whether large work-shops do not contain

men equally tending to impede that gradual progress of improvement,

which leads to the perfection of reason, and the establishment of

rational equality.

The deprivation of natural, equal, civil and political rights, reduced

the most cunning of the lower orders to practise fraud, and the rest to

habits of stealing, audacious robberies, and murders. And why? because

the rich and poor were separated into bands of tyrants and slaves, and

the retaliation of slaves is always terrible. In short, every sacred

feeling, moral and divine, has been obliterated, and the dignity of man

sullied, by a system of policy and jurisprudence as repugnant to reason,

as at variance with humanity.

The only excuse that can be made for the ferocity of the parisians is

then simply to observe, that they had not any confidence in the laws,

which they had always found to be merely cobwebs to catch small flies.

Accustomed to be punished themselves for every trifle, and often for

only being in the way of the rich, or their parasites; when, in fact,

had the parisians seen the execution of a noble, or priest, though

convicted of crimes beyond the daring of vulgar minds?—When justice, or

the law, is so partial, the day of retribution will come with the red

sky of vengeance, to confound the innocent with the guilty. The mob were

barbarous beyond the tiger’s cruelty: for how could they trust a court

that had so often deceived them, or expect to see it’s agents punished,

when the same measures were pursuing?

Let us cast our eyes over the history of man, and we shall scarcely find

a page that is not tarnished by some foul deed, or bloody transaction.

Let us examine the catalogue of the vices of men in a savage state, and

contrast them with those of men civilized; we shall find, that a

barbarian, considered as a moral being, is an angel, compared with the

refined villain of artificial life. Let us investigate the causes which

have produced this degeneracy, and we shall discover, that they are

those unjust plans of government, which have been formed by peculiar

circumstances in every part of the globe.—Then let us coolly and

impartially contemplate the improvements, which are gaining ground in

the formation of principles of policy; and I flatter myself it will be

allowed by every humane and considerate being, that a political system

more simple than has hitherto existed would effectually check those

aspiring follies, which, by imitation, leading to vice, have banished

from governments the very shadow of justice and magnanimity.

Thus had France grown up, and sickened on the corruption of a state

diseased. But, as in medicine there is a species of complaint in the

bowels which works it’s own cure, and, leaving the body healthy, gives

an invigorated tone to the system, so there is in politics: and whilst

the agitation of it’s regeneration continues, the excrementitious

humours exuding from the contaminated body will excite a general dislike

and contempt for the nation; and it is only the philosophical eye, which

looks into the nature and weighs the consequences of human actions, that

will be able to discern the cause, which has produced so many dreadful

effects.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

-----

Footnote 1:

What else could be expected from the courtier, who could write in

these terms to madame de Maintenon: _God has been so gracious to me,

madam, that, in whatever company I find myself, I never have occasion

to blush for the gospel or the king_.

Footnote 2:

For example, the reception of a portuguese adventurer, under the

character of a persian ambassador. A farce made by the court to rouse

the blunted senses of the king.

Footnote 3:

Memoires du marechal de Richelieu.

Footnote 4:

In this reply will be found many of the reasons, that have been lately

repeated; and some (a proof of the progress of reason), which no one

had the audacity to repeat, when standing up in defence of privileges.

Footnote 5:

It is well known, that for a long time he wished to convoke the

states-general; and it was not without difficulty, that Dubois made

him abandon this design. During the year 1789, a curious memorial has

been reprinted, which he wrote on this occasion; and it is, like the

author, a model of impudence.

Footnote 6:

Since the constituent assembly equalized the impost, Calonne has

boasted, that he proposed a mode of levying equal taxes; but that the

nobility would not listen to any such motion, tenaciously maintaining

their privileges. This blind obstinacy of opposing all reform, that

touched their exemptions, may be reckoned among the foremost causes,

which, in hurrying the removal of old abuses, tended to introduce

violence and disorder.—And if it be kept in remembrance, that a

conduct equally illiberal and disingenuous warped all their political

sentiments, it must be clear, that the people, from whom they

considered themselves as separated by immutable laws, had cogent

grounds to conclude, that it would be next to impossible to effect a

reform of the greater part of those perplexing exemptions and

arbitrary customs, the weight of which made the peculiar urgency, and

called with the most forcible energy for the revolution. Surely all

the folly of the people taken together was less reprehensible, than

this total want of discernment, this adherence to a prejudice, the

jaundiced perception of contumelious ignorance, in a class of men, who

from the opportunity they had of acquiring knowledge, ought to have

acted with more judgment. For they were goaded into action by inhuman

provocations, by acts of the most flagrant injustice, when they had

neither rule nor experience to direct them, and after their temperance

had been destroyed by years of sufferings, and an endless catalogue of

reiterated and contemptuous privations.

Footnote 7:

Importance of religious opinions.

Footnote 8:

‘The code of étiquette’, says Mirabeau, ‘has been hitherto the sacred

fire of the court and privileged orders.’

Footnote 9:

Under the reign of Louis XV two hundred and thirty thousand _lettres

de cachet_ had been issued; and after this, who will assert, that this

was not an inveterate evil, which ought to be eradicated; for it is an

insult to human reason, to talk of the modification of such abuses, as

seem to be experiments to try how far human patience can be stretched.

Footnote 10:

Count Lally-Tolendal.

Footnote 11:

This was written some months before the death of the queen.

Footnote 12:

Such is ever the conduct of _soi-disant_ patriots.

Footnote 13:

This is an event much more important at Paris, than it would be in

London.

Footnote 14:

The mayor.

Footnote 15:

This man, the abbé Lefebure, remained all night, and the greater part

of the next day, standing over a barrel of gun-powder, persisting to

keep off the people, with undaunted courage, though several of them,

to torment him, brought pipes to smoke near it; and one actually fired

a pistol close by, that set fire to his hair.

Footnote 16:

Lally-Tolendal said of La Fayette, at this time, that ‘he spoke of

liberty as he had defended it.’

Footnote 17:

The supplying of Paris with provision always depended on a nice

arrangement of circumstances, capable of being controlled by the

government of the state. It is not like London, and other great

cities, the local position of which was previously pointed out by

nature, and of which the welfare depends on the great and perpetual

movements of commerce, which they themselves regulate. To cut off the

provision from London, you must block up the port, and interdict in an

open manner an intercourse, on which the wealth of the nation in a

great measure depends. Paris, on the contrary, might be famished in a

few days by a secret order of the court. All the people of the place

would feel the effect, and no person be able to ascertain the cause.

These considerations render it easy to account for the continued

scarcity of provision in Paris during the summer of 1789. No person

can doubt, but the court viewed the revolution with horrour; and that,

among the measures which they took to prevent it, they would not

overlook so obvious an expedient, as that of cutting off the supplies

from the capital; as they supposed the people would lay the blame on

the new order of things, and thus be disgusted with the revolution.

Footnote 18:

The lamp-posts, which are only to be found in squares, and places

where there are not two rows of houses, are much more substantial than

in England.

Footnote 19:

‘In August 1778,’ says Lally-Tolendal, ‘the laws were overturned; and

twenty-five millions of men without justice or judges;—the public

treasury without funds, and without resource;—the sovereign authority

was usurped by the ministers;—and the people without any other hope

than the states-general;—yet without confidence in the promise of the

king.’

And, Mounier also gives a similar sketch. ‘We have not a fixed or

complete form of government—we have not a constitution, because all

the powers are confounded—because no boundary is traced out.—The

judicial power is not even separated from the legislative.—Authority

is dispersed; it’s various parts are always in opposition; and amidst

their perpetual shocks the rights of the lower class of citizens are

betrayed.—The laws are openly despised, or rather we are not agreed

what ought to be called laws.’

Footnote 20:

In the Bastille, it is true, were found but seven prisoners.—Yet, it

ought to be remarked, that three of them had lost their reason—that,

when the secrets of the prison-house were laid open, men started with

horrour from the inspection of instruments of torture, that appeared

to be almost worn out by the exercise of tyranny—and that citizens

were afraid even for a moment to enter the noisome dungeons, in which

their fellow creatures had been confined for years.

Footnote 21:

The cruelties of the half civilized romans, combined with their

unnatural vices, even when literature and the arts were most

cultivated, prove, that humanity is the offspring of the

understanding, and that the progress of the sciences alone can make

men wiser and happier.

Footnote 22:

Mirabeau appears to have been continually hurt by the want of dignity

in the assembly.—By the inconsistency, which made them stalk as heroes

one moment, with a true theatrical stride, and the next cringe with

the flexible backs of habitual slaves.

Footnote 23:

‘Let us compare,’ he further adds, ‘the number of innocents sacrificed

by mistake, by the sanguinary maxims of the courts of criminal

judicature, and the ministerial vengeance exercised secretly in the

dungeons of Vincennes, and in the cells of the Bastille, with the

sudden and impetuous vengeance of the multitude, and then decide on

which side barbarity appears. At the moment when the hell created by

tyranny for the torment of it’s victims opens itself to the public

eye; at the moment when all the citizens have been permitted to

descend into those gloomy caves, to poize the chains of their friends,

of their defenders; at the moment when the registers of those

iniquitous archives are fallen into all hands; it is necessary, that

the people should be essentially good, or this manifestation of the

atrocities of ministers would have rendered them as cruel as

themselves!’

Footnote 24:

These members seem to have formed a just estimate of the french

character.

Footnote 25:

Some french wags have laid a great stress on these decrees passing

after dinner.

Footnote 26:

Lally-Tolendal, in particular; for giving his opinion on the subject

of two chambers, he said:—‘It is not doubtful at present, and for this

first assembly, that a single chamber is preferable, and perhaps

necessary—There are so many difficulties to be surmounted, so many

prejudices to be conquered, so many sacrifices to be made, such old

habits to root out, so great a power to control; in a word so much to

destroy, and almost all to create anew. This moment, gentlemen, which

we are so happy as to have seen, of which it is impossible a

description can be given—when private characters, orders of men, and

provinces, are vying with each other, who will make the greatest

sacrifices to the public good—when all press together at the tribune,

to renounce voluntarily, not only odious privileges, but even those

just rights, which appear to you an obstacle to the fraternity and

equality of all the citizens. This moment, gentlemen, this noble and

rich enthusiasm which hurries you along, this new order of things

which you have begun—all this—most assuredly, could never have been

produced but from the union of all persons, of all opinions, and of

all hearts.’—

Footnote 27:

‘It is worthy of remark, that the _divine right_ of tithes was never

insisted on,’ says a french writer, ‘even by the clergy, during this

debate. Yet the year before, when the same question was brought

forward in the irish house of parliament, great stress was laid on

this gothic idea of their origin.’

Footnote 28:

It is observable, that the satisfaction of the people was by no means

equal to the discontent manifested by the privileged orders.

Footnote 29:

See the article 10. ‘No man ought to be molested on account of his

opinions, not even on account of his religious opinions, provided his

avowal of them does not disturb the public order established by law.’

Footnote 30:

Calonne.

Footnote 31:

In Holland almost all the taxes are collected in the shape of excise.

In France, formerly, the taxes were generally internal; but, since the

mode established of making a revenue of 300,000,000 _l._ by the land

and house tax part of the 580,000,000 _l._ estimated to be the peace

establishment, it appears, that this was too great a proportion to be

obtained in that way. Hence the revenue of France has lately failed in

a great degree.

In America the taxes of the federal government have been lately

established solely on the customs, that is to say, on goods imported.

These operate two ways; encouraging home manufactures, and

discouraging the manufactures of other countries.

Great Britain has levied her revenue on customs both inwards and

outwards; on excise, principally internal; on stamps, which operate

both internally and externally; and on fixed objects, as well as

internal consumption, (as salt).

Footnote 32:

‘O Richard, O mon roi,

L’univers t’abandonne!’

Footnote 33:

They used to lie to be owned in a conspicuous part of the city.

Footnote 34:

There are upwards of thirty scattered throughout the city.

Footnote 35:

I use this word according to the french acceptation, because we have

not one to express so forcibly the same signification.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.

3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.