France in eighteen hundred and two
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Title: France in eighteen hundred and two

Described in a series of contemporary letters

Author: Henry Redhead Yorke

Author of introduction, etc.: Richard Davey

Editor: Christina Anne Jessica Sykes

Release date: June 10, 2025 [eBook #76267]

Language: English

Original publication: London: William Heinemann, 1906

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76267

Credits: Jamie Brydone-Jack, Karin Spence and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANCE IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWO ***

FRANCE IN EIGHTEEN
HUNDRED AND TWO

VERSAILLES AND THE TRIANONS

By Pierre de Nolhac, Director of the Versailles Museum. With 50 pictures by R. Binet, reproduced in colour. One Volume, price 16s. net. Edition de Luxe, limited to 100 copies, numbered and signed, price Two Guineas net.

THE FLIGHT OF MARIE ANTOINETTE

From the French of G. Lenotre, by Mrs. Rodolf Stawell. 1 vol., with 50 illustrations, 10s. 6d. net.

NAPOLEON, KING OF ELBA

From the French of Paul Gruyer. 1 vol., 24 full-page illustrations, 10s. 6d. net.

MADAME RECAMIER

(According to many hitherto unpublished documents) From the French of Edouard Herriot. By Alys Hallard. 2 vols., 16 photogravure plates, 10s. 6d. net each volume.

FRENCH SONGS OF OLD CANADA

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FELICITY IN FRANCE

By Constance Maud, Author of “An English Girl in Paris.” 1 vol., 6s.

“The sight of a book on France from the able and witty pen of Miss Maud is almost as good as a trip thither in person—only much cheaper.... We can imagine no better unconventional guide-book, giving the life and soul rather than the dry bones of fact.”—Outlook.

WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21 Bedford Street, W.C.

FRANCE IN EIGHTEEN
HUNDRED AND TWO

DESCRIBED IN A SERIES OF CONTEMPORARY LETTERS

BY HENRY REDHEAD YORKE

EDITED AND REVISED WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX BY J. A. C. SYKES AND AN INTRODUCTION BY RICHARD DAVEY

LONDON

WILLIAM HEINEMANN

MCMVI

Copyright 1906 by William Heinemann

INTRODUCTION
BY RICHARD DAVEY

Some months ago Lady Sykes accidentally came across a very rare work—Henry Redhead Yorke’s “Letters from France, written in 1802.” She immediately became its possessor, and a perusal of its contents suggested the excellent idea of editing the book for modern publication: for, although intensely interesting, Yorke’s “Letters” were written in the verbose style characteristic of his day. By judicious pruning and omissions Lady Sykes has reduced the volume by about a third, without, however, omitting anything of the least importance; whereby she enables in a concise manner students of French history to bridge over the important though little known period which elapsed between the downfall of Robespierre and the Consulate.

Many imagine that immediately after the Reign of Terror ended things settled down very quickly in France, and that whatever benefits accrued from the Revolution soon blossomed and bore abundant fruit. It was, however, very much otherwise; and the prevalent idea, that the prosperity of modern France is due to the great Revolution, is a fallacy; for, independently of the chaos created by the Reign of Terror, we must take into consideration the decade of Napoleonic despotism which separates the Revolution from the beginning of what is known as la France moderne.

Henry Redhead was born in 1772, most probably in the West Indies, whence he was fetched as a child, and brought up at Little Eaton, near Derby. He was evidently a youth of considerable observation and studious habits, and before he was twenty had written a pamphlet against negro emancipation, which, however, he recalled a couple of years later as the result of a visit to Paris, then in the early throes of the Revolution. Redhead threw himself heart and soul with the enthusiasm of youth into a popular movement which he believed was to liberate humanity from every sort of bondage, and bring about a period of quite utopian peace and prosperity. Whilst under the influence of the buoyant rhetoric that marked the first period of the Revolution, he was privileged to witness many of the most striking events and scenes in that momentous drama; including the trial of Louis XVI., in connection with which he gives in these “Letters” several facts omitted by general historians. There were at this time several other British enthusiasts in Paris, amongst them Robert and John Sheares, with whom he became acquainted, and who induced him to join the British Club, an association at which were discussed such subjects as the advantage of liberating England by the assassination of that harmless monarch George III. Redhead would not, however, hear of any such project, and, after a violent quarrel with the Sheares, left the Club, being denounced to the Convention by Robert Rayment. He now concluded it were wiser to put the frontier between himself and the disorderly and fanatical horde of informers and informed who had, with surprising rapidity, seized the reins of administration in Paris. He changed his name, assumed that of Yorke, and, travelling through Holland, reached England in 1793, where he joined a liberal debating society in Derby, and became distinguished for his rhetorical eloquence. It was soon alleged against him, however, that he had, amongst other revolutionary ebullitions, declared, “You have before you, young as I am (about twenty-two years of age), a man who has been concerned in three revolutions already, who essentially contributed to serve the Republic in America, who contributed to that of Holland, who materially assisted in that of France, and who will continue to cause revolutions all over the world.” This striking boast did not receive the support Redhead imagined it would; for he was promptly arrested, and at the York Spring Assizes in 1795, true bills were found against him for conspiracy, sedition and libel. His trial took place on July 23, 1795, at York, but his co-defendant, Joseph Gales, printer of the “Sheffield Register,” and Richard Davison, compositor, absconded. Although he repudiated the violent words imputed to him, and declared himself to be a loyal citizen, Redhead was none the less sentenced to two years’ imprisonment in Dorchester Castle, whence he was not released until March 1799. Whilst in prison his views, political and otherwise, became greatly modified, and, although he remained a staunch Liberal, he conceived an abhorrence of revolutionary methods, considering them as the most unlikely to conduce to true freedom or to the prosperity of the peoples who employed them. In 1802 he revisited France, the result of his observations on this occasion being embodied in the “Letters from France.” He remained in Paris three months, making notes of all he saw, visiting such old friends as had survived the Terror, and seeing for himself all the havoc the Revolution had wrought. On his return to England Redhead continued to place his talents at the disposal of the Liberal party. In 1811 he appeared in London, and delivered a series of lectures on historical and political subjects; but his health completely broke down, and although he had been induced by Richard Valpy to undertake the continuation of John Campbell’s “Lives of British Admirals,” he was too ill to finish that work, and died at Chelsea, after a brief illness, on January 28, 1813. Mr. Redhead married in 1800 the accomplished daughter of Mr. Andrews, keeper of Dorchester Castle, by whom he had four children. This lady accompanied him, and together with her friend, Mrs. Cosway, the wife of the celebrated painter and herself a fine artist, was his companion on most of his excursions in that city and its neighbourhood.

Redhead was a man of very keen perception, generous impulse, and, having the courage of his opinions, was never ashamed to own that circumstances had occasionally compelled him to change them. The best known of his numerous publications is this volume of “Letters from France,” written with the object of exposing the fruits of a tyrannical and corrupt form of government, whose wires were pulled by unscrupulous miscreants in the oft-blasphemed names of “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.” These “Letters” were not published until after the author’s death, when Mrs. Redhead found copies of them amongst her husband’s effects, and a very limited edition was printed; so that at present the work is exceedingly scarce.

The value of Redhead Yorke’s “Letters from France” consists not only in the remarkable picture he gives of Paris eight years after the Reign of Terror, but in the fact that, as he was intimately acquainted with many of those who played a prominent part in that tragedy, he was frequently able to give an account of their latter years. In 1802 the majority, however, of those with whom he had lived on terms of fairly good fellowship on the occasion of his first visit to France, had been guillotined; and, on the other hand, not a few who had been but little known in his earlier years had now risen to conspicuous official positions—which, more often than not, they did not fill so much for their country’s good as for their own. He gives us a very interesting account of a conversation which he had with Tom Paine, whom he had known and admired previously, but whom he now discovered in a state of abject poverty on the very day that the American Republic determined to bring him back to his own country, where, however, he lived, after all his sufferings and misery in France, only two years. Our author was also well acquainted with that remarkable woman, Miss Helen Williams; and he supplies many unedited anecdotes of other Revolutionary celebrities, including Théroigne de Mirecourt; David, the celebrated painter, and his wife; the partially insane English revolutionary, Colonel Oswald; Joseph Le Bon, and the brothers Sheares. One of them was the son of that unhappy Amazon, Théroigne de Mirecourt.

The perusal of these “Letters” will probably convince many readers that this Revolution did not benefit humanity to a quarter of the extent which its enthusiasts would have us believe it did. In fact, Redhead, like most travellers in France at that period, soon came to the conclusion, from personal and unprejudiced observation, that the much-vaunted great Revolution had been a failure. The class which was to have more especially benefited by it was reduced to a greater depth of degradation and poverty in the first decade of the nineteenth century than ever it had been under the ancien régime: the peasantry and the working classes in general were for the most part out of employment; and the pernicious forced recruiting system which Napoleon had introduced was draining the country of useful men, whose place in the fields and manufactories had to be filled by incompetent lads, old men, and even by girls and women. At least a third of the arable land had gone out of cultivation, and French manufactures had sunk to the utmost insignificance. The rich landowners who had hitherto helped the peasantry were either dead, in exile or else bankrupt. The village school, like the village church, was generally closed; and the rustic population were endeavouring to escape the conscription which weighed so heavily on the country. Higher education was also at a standstill: the richly endowed universities, colleges, and public schools which had been founded in the eighteenth century, had been pillaged, many of their buildings were in ruins, and their libraries confiscated by the Revolutionaries, had not yet been restored. So it was with the scientific and literary institutions in the capital and larger towns, though in 1802 some of these were beginning to slowly revive. The Revolution was, in short, an orgy of brute force, a destroyer producing nothing great either in art, literature, or science. David was the representative painter, and his pictures, when put up for auction in a modern sale-room, now fetch scarcely the price of the canvas and frames on which they are painted and stretched. The exquisite highly finished art-work of the eighteenth century in bronze, furniture, and ceramic, which still sells for fabulous prices at Christie’s and the Hôtel Drouet, was lost; and it was not until the Empire was well established that it began gradually to improve, a proof, if one were needed, that the artistic taste of the nation had not been entirely extinguished in the general disorder that had overwhelmed the capital and country. The utmost licentiousness reigned supreme in Paris at this period; and Redhead’s description of the nightly and indecent scenes in the Palais Royal, which proved so attractive to British and other foreign bachelors, shows that they were not unlike those that draw crowds of tourists to the heights of Montmartre in 1906. The shop windows in 1802, as at present, were filled with abominable and blasphemous prints: and the whole atmosphere of Parisian life was charged with an unwholesome miasma which filled Redhead with horror and disgust, despite his fiery advocacy of the Revolution in its earlier stages.

The man of genius who was destined eventually to re-establish order was only First Consul; but even then people were beginning to whisper that he intended to make himself King or Emperor. Naturally, Redhead, as an Englishman, has not many compliments to bestow on Napoleon; though, had he lived to see the accomplishment of the great Corsican’s work, he might have entertained a higher opinion of the “ogre.” As it was, Redhead was disgusted with Napoleon’s ostentatious display, and above all with the manner in which the spoils stolen from Italy were exhibited in Paris; one of his most interesting letters being that in which he describes the condition of the Louvre even as he saw it stuffed with the treasures of Italy, many of which bore inscriptions he considered an outrage to decency. Thus, for instance, on the Madonna del Orto might have been read, “This picture was taken from the church of Santa Maria del Orto at Venice,” or again, “This picture, one of the best that Paul Veronese ever painted, was taken from the church of the nuns of St. Zacharia at Venice,” and so on. Unfortunately, many of the pictures brought to Paris were injudiciously restored; and when, after the Treaty of Vienna, they were returned to Italy, it was found that they had been irreparably damaged. Not content with carrying off pictures, statues, and other works of art, Napoleon carted away the chief archives of the foremost Italian cities; and these were so carelessly packed that many hundreds of valuable documents were irretrievably lost. From the artistic and historical point of view, the French Revolution was especially injurious to Italy. Venice not only lost her independence, but half her art treasures. During the French occupation at the beginning of the nineteenth century, forty of her churches were closed and thirty of them destroyed, amongst the finest of them being San Gregorio, still standing though desecrated; and the Servi, one of the largest and most historical in the city, not a stone of which exists. Eugène Beauharnais, when Governor of Venice, pulled down Palladio’s Church of San Geminiano, which stood opposite St. Mark’s, to increase the Royal Palace, and over thirty of the characteristic and beautiful campanile, or church towers, which form so delightful a feature in Venetian scenery, were destroyed, their material being carted away to build the new fortifications. At Verona the magnificent church of San Zeno was desecrated (since restored), and two out of three of its splendid cloisters were wantonly laid level. Padua, and, indeed, every other city in Venetia, suffered losses. Ravenna lost three of the handsomest of her ancient basilicas, including San Agnese, whose fine mosaics are now in the Berlin Museum. Milan lost fifty churches full of fine frescoes by Leonardo, Luini, Foppa, and Proccaccino. At Genoa, thanks to the French Revolutionaries, the magnificent Church of San Domenico was demolished, as well as that of San Francesco, which contained the tombs of the Doges, not one of which was spared. Moreover, the sudden suppression of the law of primogeniture ruined half the Italian nobility, and obliged them to sell at low prices the accumulated art treasures of their ancestors. To this day Italy is covered with churches and chapels ruined during the French occupation—which was effected on the pretext of “liberating” that country from superstition.

Every subsequent Revolution which has taken place in France since 1793—in 1838, 1848, and 1870—has originated in the continuance of the Jacobin traditions, the main object of which is to substitute free-thought for Christianity. In each case the Revolution has ended in disorder and bloodshed, and has been succeeded by a more or less modified form of autocracy; yet the dawn of the twentieth century is witnessing what may be termed the most powerful combat between the Revolutionary traditions and those of the ancien régime which has taken place since the execution of Louis XVI. Europe is to-day watching with anxiety the result of the abrogation of that very Concordat in honour of the signing of which a Te Deum was sung in Notre Dame amidst the utmost ecclesiastical, civil, and military pomp, and attended by Napoleon and his Court, a function described by Redhead in a letter which is especially interesting at the present time.

It is not by religious persecution that a lasting Republic can be established. France, so generous in her impulses, so artistic, and, above all, so literary, has not yet learned that a true democracy can only be founded upon a more practical interpretation of the motto, “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity,” than the one that is now in vogue amongst the majority of Frenchmen in both camps.

At the end of this volume will be found a very interesting series of biographies, compiled by Lady Sykes, of the persons connected with the Revolution mentioned in Redhead Yorke’s “Letters,” many of whom are little known even to close students of Revolutionary history.

I
ARRIVAL AT CALAIS

I will endeavour in these letters to give some details of the present moral and political condition of France.

Twelve years of unceasing revolution have changed the face of a country highly favoured by nature. Amidst the dilapidations of civil discord, and the ravages of foreign armies, France has become doubly formidable to Europe, and after the bloodshed, the misery, and the upheaval of the Revolution, the nation has resumed all the habits of her ancient system, and seeks internal repose in the arms of a military despotism. We embarked at Dover, on board the Venus for Calais.

Before the war, the price of the passage was half a guinea, on the signature of the preliminaries of peace six guineas was the price demanded; but this is now reduced to one guinea and a half for each person, with five shillings to the mate, and seven to the steward. The sailors also expect to be remembered. For taking a carriage on board the fee is two guineas.

At Dover and Calais passports are examined with the greatest attention.

My passport was signed by the King, and countersigned by Lord Pelham, Secretary of State. At Dover all that was required was that it should be properly verified at the Custom House, where it was again countersigned by the controller.

At Calais the ceremony was much more scrupulous and imposing. Unfortunately, at the time of our arrival the tide was ebbing, and we were forced to wait outside the harbour until the tide flowed. We did not enter until three in the morning, having been at sea fourteen hours!

When we anchored, an officer came on board to inspect our passport.

He informed us that it was impossible to enter the town until the gates were opened at eight o’clock in the morning, but that there was a little “cabaret,” to which strangers were permitted to visit for refreshment.

I gave the officer a letter of recommendation addressed to the Commissary-General Mengoud, requesting him, on behalf of the lady who was with me, to deliver it immediately, not doubting that it would facilitate us the disagreeable necessity of sitting up all night in the public cabin of the packet.

The officer declared he dared not disturb Monsieur Mengoud at night.

We remained until seven o’clock in the morning, in this uncomfortable situation, when exhaustion compelled us to leave the vessel and repair to the “cabaret.”

We were then conducted to a little pig-stye beside the gates of the town, where we underwent a pleasant ceremony called “La visite de la personne.”

Four of the passengers could only be admitted at a time. Two officers of the Customs passed their hands over the ladies’ dresses, and contented themselves with asking the gentlemen whether they had any contraband goods about them. After this we were allowed to enter the “cabaret,” a filthy hovel, full of fishermen, drinking beer and gin. Here we were regaled with coffee and bread, so disgustingly bad that we could not touch either, and for which each person was charged three English shillings.

I could not help observing to my hostess, that I did not doubt but that when I next visited France, I should have the honour of waiting upon her husband as Mayor of Calais, for she was certain of soon amassing a vast fortune.

There were nine of us in company, and she cleared twenty-seven shillings in a moment.

ARRIVAL AT CALAIS

I conversed with one of the fishermen sitting in the room. He stated that in no part of France had the peace of England caused more joy than at Calais, which had suffered extremely by the war, where the inhabitants were in a most deplorable condition; the young and the middle-aged, to avoid being famished, had no other resource than to join the armies, which chiefly subsisted upon the plunder of foreign countries, for they had no alternative between famine and conquest.

These opinions were fully supported by a young man who joined in the conversation, who said that only dire necessity forced him to become a soldier.

He had served with reluctance in all the campaigns against the English, and was now a captain of Grenadiers. The French army, he said, took no interest in the events occurring in Paris, nor in the Revolution, their common principle being to obey their officers and plunder for bread. The language of every general was the same, “Behind you is nothing but want and misery, before you glory and plenty.”

They fought for glory and plenty, but never liberty, which he acknowledged no Frenchman could either understand or enjoy.

I remarked upon the inconvenience to which travellers were exposed by the port regulations. He replied: “It is no fault of our municipality, they are men of worth. It is the will of the First Consul and must be obeyed.” I inquired whether a “douceur” would not produce admittance into the town. He answered no sum of money could purchase disobedience to an order of the Consul, for the Argus he had planted in it was the terror of the whole department, and nothing escaped the prying eyes of his spies and informers.

About nine o’clock the officer returned with the welcome news—“Monsieur Mengoud would be happy to receive us.” We were then all conducted to the town-hall, where we answered to our names, then we were permitted to go to our respective inns, after a solemn charge to hold ourselves in readiness to present our passports.

After refreshing myself at the “Lion d’Argent” (one of the best hotels in France, and where an Englishman is sure to meet with attention and civility) I proceeded to the house of the Commissary-General, a man who, fulfilling the orders of the executive directors, had introduced French troops and ignited the flames of civil discord in unhappy Switzerland.

Such an interview could not be grateful to one of my habits of thinking, the more so that amidst the cloud-capped mountains and retired valleys of that once free, independent and prosperous country, I had passed the happiest hours of my life.

The secretary announced my name. A voice of thunder roared, “Show him in!”

I entered. Monsieur Mengoud desired me to be seated; the door was shut, and we were left alone altogether.

He was a man of vast stature, and immense calibre, with a round countenance, not unlike in appearance to our Henry VIII., large rolling eyes, and bristly black hair.

The room was hung with carbines, horse pistols, daggers and a pike—proper symbols of his trade.

I mentioned that as I had a lady with me, I had taken the liberty of asking the officer to present my letter of introduction at an early hour, hoping, from the known politeness of the French, she might have experienced the indulgence always conceded to her sex.

Mengoud. The orders of the Government make no distinction of sex.

Myself. I am aware a law is general, but I flattered myself there might be some discretionary power in the person entrusted with its execution.

Mengoud. There is no power vested in any hands but those of the Government of France.

Myself. I recollect an instance of the same kind which occurred while I was in the garrison at Douvi, a fortified town.

Mengoud. Examples drawn from the ancient Tyranny cannot apply to the Republic.

Myself. Will this regulation continue?

Mengoud. It is all the same to me.

Myself. Shall I experience any difficulties on my route to Paris?

Mengoud. None.

Myself. When may I depart?

Mengoud. Now, if you choose.

Here he called his secretary, ordered him to bring up my passport, which he instantly signed, and after having desired me to proceed to the Municipality for countersignment, with a profound bow gave me leave to depart.

As soon as I had despatched my business at the Municipality I returned to the “Lion d’Argent,” and found I had another ceremony to go through at the Custom House, our portmanteaux had not been visited. Accordingly I hastened thither, and after a most rigid search had been made, and I had chastised one of the officers for strutting about wearing my cocked hat for the amusement of his fellows, my things were removed to the inn.

While our property was being repacked, and the horses sent for, I paid a visit to a respectable merchant I had known some years before, and who had survived the havoc of the Revolution.

The information I received from him will form the subject of my next letter.

II
CHARACTER OF THE CITIZENS OF CALAIS

Calais is one of the very few French towns which escaped the horrors of the Revolution. This circumstance is the more remarkable because from its vicinity to England and the attachment borne by its inhabitants to our countrymen, it became an object of suspicion to the Committee of Public Safety.

To the firmness and humanity of one man who filled the office of mayor, and to the unblemished character of the persons who composed the Municipality, do the citizens of Calais owe the preservation of their lives and properties.

The Committee of Public Safety accused the inhabitants of Anglomania, and ordered the ferocious Joseph Le Bon[1] to visit this guiltless town and re-organise the constituted authorities. During those cruel days the visit of a constitutional deputy was really the visit of a public executioner, and in the dismal catalogue of men who were distinguished by unfeeling severity, Le Bon was foremost. He had just perpetrated the most horrible cruelties at Arras before proceeding to Calais. The following anecdote will delineate the fierceness and brutality of his character.

Two young ladies of Arras, neither of whom had attained the age of twenty, practising on the pianoforte the same morning that the news of the surrender of Valenciennes reached their city, Le Bon happened to pass their window and paused to listen. They were playing the tune, “Ça Ira,” a most revolutionary air, which one would have imagined was a proof of their civism.

Nevertheless, by Le Bon’s orders, these beautiful girls were arrested, tried, and condemned the next day, and, notwithstanding their youth and innocence, were executed for “playing on the piano on the day the news of a Republican defeat had arrived, a defeat at which they evidently rejoiced.”

THE CITIZENS OF CALAIS

This atrocious action struck even Jacobins with horror. In the defence of the accused it was stated to the Revolutionary Tribune that “Ça Ira” was a Republican march, written to animate armies on the day of battle. To this Le Bon replied that this popular air had been converted into a vehicle of mischief, and that the time these young people had selected for playing “Ça Ira” proved their evil dispositions. “They played ‘Ça Ira,’” said he, “for the Austrian army, they had doubtless heard of the surrender of Valenciennes, and they meant by Ça Ira, that they desired the Austrian advance and the capture of other French fortresses. Why did they not, if they were true patriots, play ‘Le Réveil du Peuple?’”

This argument induced the jurors to condemn the unfortunate young persons to death. Thin, indeed, was the thread upon which human existence was suspended in these days of wretchedness and terror. The effect upon the minds of the people was to make the very name of liberty odious, and the vast majority sighed for a return of that ancient despotism in which they lived secure. Tormented by those who had abused their confidence and exasperated at the accumulation of public wrongs, they were prepared by degrees for those astonishing events which I shall relate in my future letters.

But to return from this digression. The instant Le Bon received his orders, he departed for Calais, where he found prevailing the utmost order, good conduct and tranquillity. This condition of affairs appeared to the Revolutionary emissary a strong symptom of aristocracy. Accordingly, he deposed the mayor, dissolved the Municipality, convoked an assembly of the people in the market-place, when he desired them to elect true sans culottes in place of their former magistrates.

To his surprise he found not a single person would accept of a situation in the Municipality while their former magistrates were destituted. He attempted in vain to form a Jacobin Club or to establish a Revolutionary Tribunal. In vain he threatened individuals with arrest.

There were not a dozen Jacobins in the whole town.

The mayor boldly remonstrated, and by his prudence and the loyalty of his fellow citizens, Le Bon, muttering vows of vengeance, was driven from the town.

Immediately after his departure the former magistrates resumed their functions. In cases where a peremptory mandate from Paris obliged them to arrest any individual, the order was executed with the utmost humanity. The victim was not sent to prison, but allowed to remain in his own house, and even to walk out attended by gendarmes of his own choice.

Thus the citizens of Calais never saw the blood of their countrymen flow upon the scaffold, nor were any delivered to the homicidal rage of inquisitors, whose sense of freedom consisted in privileged misrule and promises of fraternity, terminated in slaughter. Had the municipal officers of other great towns in France displayed the same courage and determination as those of Calais, many thousands of lives would have been saved, and France avoided much dishonour, misery, and shame.

The humane and uncorrupted character of the people of Calais proves that they have not degenerated from the high repute of their ancient burghers.

III
MODE OF TRAVELLING IN FRANCE

There are three modes of travelling in France: by diligence; by post chaise; in your own carriage. The diligence is the cheapest, but it is a method of conveyance quite out of the question for those who travel for recreation, or in search of information.

The traveller is exposed to the inconveniences attendant on a journey of two hundred miles in a vast unwieldy machine, less comfortable than an English waggon, which travels all night, and makes no stoppages except to change horses. Those who wish to make a trip to Paris and its environs will do best to take their own carriage from England.

MODE OF TRAVELLING IN FRANCE

It will be found, even including the expense of the packet, that this is a cheaper plan than to hire a carriage at Calais. But as it was my intention to extend my tour beyond Paris, to penetrate through La Vendée as far as Bordeaux, it became necessary I should provide myself with a strong carriage, capable of passing over horrible and neglected country roads. I therefore resolved upon procuring a carriage at Calais.

This was a Post-chaise or Cabriolet, which runs on two wheels and is very light and convenient, having, besides plenty of room for two persons and their luggage, a number of pockets for almost every kind of article, and on each side a pillow for the ease of the traveller while sleeping. It opens in front, and is so constructed as to give complete shelter in bad weather.

When the carriage is secured it is important to be provided with a sufficient sum of money to carry you to your journey’s end. A letter of credit is more advantageous than English bank-notes or guineas.

The former are not of that value they were at the commencement of the Republic; and the exportation of guineas being unlawful, no honest Englishman should carry them out of his country. A guinea is not worth five sous more now in France than in England.

A device has lately been discovered and employed in France for raising money to repair the high roads. It consists in the erection of Barrières, at which every carriage must pay a toll. These Barrières are stationed at irregular distances, at some I have paid eighteen, at others only three sous. In former times a Cabriolet might run the thirty-four posts between Calais and Paris (each post containing two leagues, six miles) for two hundred and thirteen livres, ten sous, exclusive of the hire of the carriage. But now the number of Barrières and the exactions of the postillions considerably augment the expenditure. Although the postillions legally can only demand fifteen sous per post, it is customary never to give them less than thirty and frequently fifty to sixty sous.

I am sorry to say that several of our dashing British sparks have corrupted postillions on the road by their improvident donations.

Hence during the whole of my route between Calais and Paris, I never found one of the fellows satisfied with thirty sous for a single post, and I was always teased out of more. This is trifling to men who can afford to throw away many thousand pounds during a six weeks’ visit to Paris, but to a plain animal like myself, it is a matter of serious consequence. This remark I have often had occasion to make in Switzerland, when that delightful but now wretched country was the favourite resort of our gentry. They were so prodigal of their money, that I have often heard the Swiss declare “Les Anglais sont de braves gens, mais ils sont fous.” Nor is there any rational motive for such extravagance. Such persons are often accused of being emissaries of Mr. Pitt, despatched to France to illustrate the wealth of Great Britain and to prove we understand the art of becoming rich in the midst of war and alarms.

The French, for the greater part, laugh at all such folly, and say that the English are doing their best to refund the products of that commerce which Mr. Pitt had completely wrested from them.

French people are keen and artful, and though they receive such squanderers with bows and smiles, they secretly despise their folly. These truths I write reluctantly, because whatever is disreputable to our nation’s character wounds me to the quick.

I make these observations from no desire to deprive the poor postillions of any advantage they may derive from the folly of travelling Englishmen, but because this system has extended to the inns on the road and to the hotels and shops in Paris and is severely felt by persons of inferior fortune and sober disposition.

It is an established principle in France that in travelling you pay for as many horses as there are people, not excepting servants.

JOURNEY TO AMIENS

But this regulation is not always rigidly adhered to The postmasters in general seldom put on more than three horses, even for four persons. They are civil and obliging men, and I have often found their conversation interesting and instructive.

The service of posting is well managed, and for good order, regularity, and promptness, excels any other part of Europe.

This must by no means be ascribed to the effects of the Revolution, for it was projected and executed under the ancient régime, and since the establishment of the Republic the best part of the establishment, i.e., the excellent roads, have been utterly neglected, and in many cases almost destroyed, notwithstanding the enormous charges at the Barrières, for the ostensible purpose of keeping them in good order.

The traveller has nothing whatever to apprehend from highway robbers or footpads, and this I attribute to the number of Gens d’armes, extremely well mounted, who are continually riding along the roads to ensure the safety of travellers.

IV
JOURNEY TO AMIENS, WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE PRESENT STATE OF THE COUNTRY

After all our arrangements had been concluded we proceeded on the route towards Paris.

We were forcibly struck by the backward state of the vegetation in the Department of Calais, and we compared the poverty of the exhausted soil with the luxuriant richness of the county of Kent this early spring.

Over the service of vast unenclosed tracts of land we perceived scarcely any but women employed in culture of the earth.

The implements of village husbandry, as well as the cattle, were the worst I ever beheld, and the population did not seem in any way adequate to the extent of the country. Wherever any vestiges of religion or aristocracy remained we traced the ravages of the Revolution. Monasteries and churches were heaps of ruins; if a church had escaped the general wreck, an inscription over its portal, “This is the Temple of Reason and Truth,” denoted that it had been abused for atheistical purposes.

In every village through which we passed crowds of children, women and old men pressed upon us, begging charity and bread. I inquired into the causes of this melancholy spectacle. My informer pointed to a monastery in ruins, and shook his head. I felt the force of this explanation.

The agreeable seaport of Boulogne presented itself before us. When we reached the gates I asked whether Parker was alive.

I heard he still kept the same hotel where I slept in 1792.

When we reached it I found him grown grey, however, with suffering and persecution. He received me with unfeigned pleasure, few Englishmen had hitherto passed, and the sight of a countryman rejoiced his heart. He told me that during the time of Terror, Dounne,[1] the Conventional Deputy, took up his quarters in his hotel, and fared sumptuously upon the fat of the land. In a very short time this representative of the people contrived to absorb a vast quantity of wine, particularly port, for which he had a great relish, and for none of this did he ever pay one farthing.

One day after dinner he sent for Parker and inquired whether he had any more port. The latter replied that unfortunately his stock was exhausted. At this the Citizen Deputy expressed great regret. Two hours later, he ordered, in consequence, poor Parker into arrest, and sent him to a prison in Paris, without permitting him to make any arrangements respecting his family concerns, or even to take leave of his family.

He remained eighteen months in jail, cut off from his friends and relations, while his house and property were completely at the mercy of the Jacobins.

JOURNEY TO AMIENS

He has now returned to try his fortune once more at Boulogne, and I sincerely hope English travellers will encourage a countryman, who is highly deserving of their patronage.

I traversed after dinner several streets of the town. I found a great number of private houses, convents and monasteries utterly demolished and reduced to piles of ruins, giving the town the appearance of having experienced a long and severe siege. I thought (for I forgot for a moment the enlightened age of Reason) that all this devastation was the result of the late bombardment of Lord Nelson. But I was in error. Only one bomb fell into the town, and did no mischief.

The ruins everywhere visible were formerly the habitations of suspected persons and religious and charitable foundations destroyed by the Jacobins, when they overthrew what they were pleased to call prejudice and superstition. Some of these buildings were remarkably handsome, and it might have been supposed could have served for the use of the public, but when the waters of bitterness overflow, destruction is general and indiscriminate.

During the bombardment of the town, the French naval officers, among whom was Jerome Bonaparte, brother of the First Consul, messed every day at Parker’s. In contradistinction to the Deputy of the Convention, they conducted themselves with the greatest liberality to this Englishman during their residence.

Jerome put up at Parker’s by the express desire of his elder brother. The inhabitants and the French officers scouted the idea of a French invasion of England, and wondered that the bravest and most distinguished admiral of the British Fleet should have been sent to oppose an inconsiderable flotilla moored in Boulogne waters.

“Your countrymen,” they said, “are very brave, but you are a mercantile nation, and merchants are always nervous. This town, as well as Calais and Dunkerque were, before the war, filled by English refugees, persons who sought shelter from the pursuit of their creditors.”

Considering the extraordinary severity of the English law of debtor and creditor, I cannot avoid looking upon these with some slight approbation, as affording to the unfortunate and improvident the means of becoming careful and honest! and more advantageous resorts for the debtor than the wood of America among rattlesnakes and savages.

So far, since the Peace, few persons of this description have arrived at Boulogne, though many are expected.

To give any account of the present state of commerce here is quite out of my power. I doubt if the town can be said to possess any. Formerly the fishing was prosperous, and much shipbuilding was undertaken and a smart smuggler’s trade carried on with the seaports on the opposite side of the water.

It had been my intention to have slept at Montreuil-sur-Mer, a distance of four posts or about twenty-three miles from Boulogne, but my companion was so exhausted that we settled to pass the night at Samur, the nearest post town. Although we were obliged to lodge at a miserable inn, nothing could exceed the kind attention of the people who owned it, they had but milk and coffee to give us, which were but slender supports for persons just recovered from sea-sickness, and seven hours had elapsed since dinner. However, as we had provided ourselves at Calais with a fowl and two bottles of burgundy we were thus enabled to make an excellent supper; the milk and coffee I poured into a bowl and gave with a big French roll to a miserable creature at the gate. The manner in which they were received and devoured absolutely confounded me, for I had never seen the like in old France.

JOURNEY TO AMIENS

The next day we proceeded to Cormont, about five miles and a half, where we changed horses, and from thence to Montreuil, situated on a steep mountain and formerly a strong fortress.

Before the Revolution there was here an English convent, and a number of English families, but the convent has been demolished, and the town altogether abandoned by our people.

I entered into a political dialogue with two very respectable persons whom I found at the inn, and asked them what was their opinion of the Peace and their present Government. They expressed themselves content with both. They observed that no man who had witnessed such scenes as they had done could avoid rejoicing at an event which promised repose to France.

The blood which had been spilt within and without their country had sickened the French people with the very name of war. Then followed the old and trite remark, that if England and France could join in a cordial union they might command the whole world and retain it in a state of permanent peace. In their opinion the Peace was in favour of England, and when I enumerated the names of the different colonies we had restored to France they laughed at me and said, “You have taken away our commerce, and what have we taken from you?”

They expressed themselves satisfied with the present Government, and avowed that any Government which maintained order was preferable to a state of anarchy. They assured me that they had witnessed scenes which could not be described. They said, “We lived in times when no man could trust his neighbour, much less speak his thoughts. A brother could not confide in a brother.” Then I observed, “You have doubtless had the guillotine permanent in your town?” “No, sir, it has never been erected here, but many of our fellow townsmen were imprisoned and executed at Arras.” “By Joseph Le Bon?” “The same.” “What induced your people to destroy the Convent?” “With many fear of death, with others because it was the fashion.” While we were engaged in conversation, a person brought in a hare and a leveret, for which our hostess paid ten sous. On my observing that provisions must, to judge from this price, be extremely cheap in France, it was quickly proved to me that any articles of necessity were inordinately dear; bread I found was a halfpenny a pound dearer than in England. Our horses being now harnessed, or rather corded, we took our leave, but we had literally to penetrate through a column of beggars before we mounted the carriage. They were mostly boys between fourteen and seventeen years of age, and their number was three-and-twenty. I requested the person with whom I had been conversing to explain why at eleven o’clock in the morning these lads were not at work. He answered that they had no work, and were in an utter state of indigence, their parents not having the means of providing them with subsistence. On which I observed that they might find ample occupation in the pursuits of agriculture and husbandry, and asked if it was not highly injurious to the community to suffer their boys not to be brought up to a trade. He then whispered that while the Noblesse resided in the country, and the Monasteries existed, vast numbers found employment, and those who were out of a place were assisted by a charity of the religious orders, but that since their destruction, the land had devolved in other hands, and often to proprietors who were in Paris and never lived on their estate. “It is evident,” said I, “that these poor people are punished for their folly.” A fact he fully admitted. He mentioned that the parents of these children were the persons now employed in the business of agriculture, and that as for trades all those who were not requisitioned for the armies were only too glad for the sake of bread to serve different tradesmen and perform the duties formerly fulfilled by boys, but, he added, “all in good time. These lads will be in the next conscription, and then they will be provided for.” I thanked him for his description, and after distributing a little money among these children, I resumed my journey, pondering on the reversed order of social life.

JOURNEY TO AMIENS

The Revolution, which was brought about ostensibly for the benefit of the lower classes of society, has sunk them to a degree of degradation and misfortune to which they never were reduced under the ancient monarchy. They have been disinherited, stripped and deprived of every resource for existence, except defeats of arms and the fleeting spoil of vanquished nations. In the sententious language of Montesquieu, “With an hundred thousand arms they have overthrown everything, while with an hundred thousand feet they have crawled like insects.” This reversion of social order must destroy sentiments of moral obligation.

Boys of fifteen beg for charity while their fathers and mothers toil in the field! Full-grown men are engaged in avocations peculiar to youth. A life of habitual indolence is encouraged in those who should be toiling for those who gave them birth. From this they will shortly be transplanted to the armies, without having been taught one occupation by which they might obtain a livelihood when the period of service has expired.

What is to be expected of such young men on their return as citizens? They will be a dead stock on the community—a load on their friends, an incumbrance to themselves, they who have been taught no other trade but to handle a firelock, to parade and plunder—will merely be the terror of peaceful citizens, and the Government will find the only mode of disposing of them to send them back to the army.

Thus an immense permanent military establishment will result, and will consist of an army which is the reservoir of the indolent and profligate, who must be supported by the speculations of the merchant and the labours of the farmer. This is in itself far more pernicious than the corvées, the abolishment of which was one of the pleas for the extirpation of the aristocracy.

To foreign nations the possession by France of such an immense force ready to burst upon them at a single word of command must be an object of terror and alarm. And in self-defence they too must maintain powerful armies in the centre of Europe, in the midst of a profound and general peace.

If an estimate is made of the many hundred thousand hands thus withdrawn from the pursuits of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, some idea may be formed of the loss which huge standing armies cause to the community at large.

Such arguments are, however, vain while the vast military establishment of France is upheld.

Necessity compels every nation in Europe to provide for its own security. The military force of France is justly pleaded as a reason for maintaining a strong standing army in our island. How much more reason have continental nations to adopt a similar precaution, for they do not possess our advantage of being separated from France by a ditch? A man who proposed the reduction of the English army at the present time would be esteemed a madman. The continental powers are only pursuing a system forced upon them by imperious necessity.

Nevertheless, much is to be hoped from the versatile and ingenious character of the French people. A Frenchman can turn himself to occupations which would never enter the brain of an Englishman or German, and it is a common adage that if a Frenchman be turned adrift and penniless on the wide world he will thrive and prosper.

If the situation of the nations on the continent be contrasted with that of our happy country, we shall perceive that Great Britain enjoys a decided advantage. All our soldiers and most of our sailors, before their entrance into the Navy or Army, have been previously educated to some industrial pursuit. Hence after a long war they rejoice in returning to their former pursuits, and the country has nothing to apprehend from them. They resume their former relations to society, and every species of trade and manufacture is open to them.

The present Government should seriously reflect upon these undoubted facts if the First Consul is sincerely desirous of peace.

These reflections have led me out of my road to Nampont (a post and a half from Montreuil). Here we changed horses and proceeded to Bernay, where we again changed.

JOURNEY TO AMIENS

The weather was favourable and we hastened on, hoping to reach Amiens before dark. Nouviou was our next stage, whence we traversed a flat and unpleasant tract of country to Abbeville.

We passed a pretty château surrounded by trees. It belonged to a Monsieur de St. Quentin, who, having emigrated, found himself deprived of his property, which was purchased for a trifling sum from the Republican Government by a merchant of Abbeville.

Since the proscription of emigrants has been removed by the First Consul, Monsieur de St. Quentin has returned to France. He now resides at a little village, formerly belonging to him, within sight of the mansion which was once his. None of his property has been restored to him, and no allowance so far granted by the State, he therefore lives in a forlorn state of poverty. Our postillion had lived twelve years with M. de St. Quentin in the capacity of a gardener. He pointed to a young plantation and said, sadly, “All those trees were planted by me.”

Love of country must be a predominant passion in the mind of a man who after twelve years’ exile is content to reside in it in penury, and endure the mortification of being constantly within view of his former property. We dined at Reichord’s hotel, were well entertained, and the charges reasonable. But our meal was rendered uncomfortable on account of the crowd of beggars who were looking through the window and craving charity. As fast as one crowd was dismissed another advanced upon their heels. A gentleman who was there declared he counted over a hundred persons. The city of Abbeville is old and wretchedly built, many of the houses being made of wood there is a gloomy aspect in every part of it. Before the Revolution it was celebrated for its damasks, and the vast establishment of Vau Robois, established by Louis XIV., gave employment to over 4000 persons; but this industry perished in the Revolution. Before the war the population of Abbeville was computed at 22,000, it is now reduced to less than 18,000 souls.

Ally-le-haut Clocher was our next stopping-place—the only circumstance worthy of notice there was a red cap on the top of the church steeple, a mark of Jacobinism; during the nine miles traversed between Abbeville and this place we never remarked one cheerful prospect or one well cultivated lot of ground. At Flixecourt stood a tree of Liberty, the first we had noticed since our arrival in France. From this place we proceeded to Picquigny, where we again changed horses and thence to Amiens, a stage of nine miles. It was late when we arrived, and to our misfortune (as you will learn later) I mistook the house to which I had been recommended. By the light of the lantern I read Pollet instead of La Poste, and in consequence drove to Madame Pollet’s inn, “Le Lion d’Or.”

Before I close this letter I will make a few observations on the general face of the country and the state of agriculture. The soil is good, but cultivation is deplorable.

There are scarcely any enclosures, trees have been ruthlessly cut down, and the hills completely stripped of timber. I saw neither cattle nor sheep pasturing.

DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS

Nothing can exceed the wretchedness of the implements of husbandry employed but the wretched appearance of the persons using them. Women at the plough and young girls driving a team give but an indifferent idea of the progress of agriculture under the Republic. There are no farmhouses dispersed over the fields. The farmers reside together in remote villages, a circumstance calculated to retard the business of cultivation. The interiors of the houses are filthy, the farmyards in the utmost disorder, and the miserable condition of the cattle sufficiently bespeaks the poverty of their owner. Meat of all kinds is poor and unnutritious, but the poultry is excellent. The wine is sour and worse than vinegar and water, and even in the great inns where I paid a high price for so-called burgundy and bordeaux, I never drank one glass of even tolerable wine (Chantilly excepted) between Calais and the capital.

Between Montreuil and Flixecourt we were greatly diverted at the sight of two women ploughing with three asses, although this confirms the opinion upon which I have always insisted, but not ludicrously, that if we in England made more use of asses in husbandry advantage might be derived to the community and a saving to the farmer. If instead of harassing and ill-treating these useful animals we gave them a little more consequence in the society of brutes and raised them from the condition of slaves to servants, they would possess more spirit and energy and be more tractable.

The asses at the plough looked plump and sleek and performed their work apparently as well as horses. After having seen a goat at the plough I think no one should be surprised that I plead the cause of the poor ass, besides I acknowledge myself to be the friend of asses.

V
DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS, AND HAPPY RELEASE FROM THE “LION D’OR”

At the time we arrived at the inn, the people of the town were just leaving the theatre, which overflowed on account of a new piece having been represented that night. A Frenchman would rather be called a knave than be accused of a want of goût. Hence the theatres are always crowded at the representation of a new piece (whatever may be the celebrity of the author, or even if he enjoy no celebrity at all).

In England, at a first representation, the house is seldom half filled, except by friends of the author, who is either bowing to the manager or quaking in the green room, waiting for the sentence of the critics in the pit.

In France, every man fancies himself a born critic, and makes a point of attending the theatre to form part of the general tribunal.

The author generally stations himself in the most distinguished part of the theatre, where, with all the assurance of certain success, he bows to the pit, gallery, and the ladies. If the piece succeeds he carries himself high, and confesses that his countrymen are the only men of taste in the world. But should the play unhappily be damned (a not unfrequent circumstance) his deportment changes, he clenches his fists, gives a horrible and ghastly smile, and swears the audience are a gang of f— canaille, scélérats, bandits, and to crown all, “Des gens de mauvais goût.” When he has reached this climax of epithets he rushes furiously from the theatre.

It happened that on the night of our arrival at Amiens a very good piece had been presented to the public. But my inclinations (a proof of mauvais goût) were directed to a good supper.

In order to give a proper notion of the dexterity of Madame Pollet, hostess of the “Lion d’Or,” I must describe our mode of living in her house.

We were shown into a large room, containing four chairs, a small round table, and a chest of drawers. In a corner stood a dome bedstead, prettily hung with blue silk curtains, the bed covered by a blue silk counterpane. It is a nasty custom in France to eat and drink in one’s bedroom at an inn. I ordered supper for two persons.

In a quarter of an hour the following dishes were served in succession. A jowl of salmon (the largest and fattest I ever saw), two of the finest soles I ever beheld, a partridge, a pigeon, a hashed hare, a fowl, bouillie beef, spinach, and other vegetables—a bottle of Picardy beer, a bottle of champagne, and one bottle of Volnay wine. The unceasing procession of viands surpassed the scene at Barataria.

DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS

My wife ate scarcely anything, but I was hungry and took courage. No sooner had I despatched my quota of a dish when another followed, and another and another.

I do believe it would have continued all night if nature, being entirely exhausted, had not obliged me to cry mercy.

Having successfully begged for quarter and forbidden any dessert, I retired for the night, having desired to see the Cathedral in the morning. It must not be imagined that I attacked every dish as it advanced—I made a hearty supper on a bit of salmon, part of a sole and some hashed hare; the rest of the feast went down untouched.

In the morning we went to see the Cathedral—one of the finest monuments of the piety of ancient days. It has escaped in some measure the onslaughts of Revolutionaries, though its decorations have been grievously mutilated. At the principal portal all the heads of the saints have been struck off, and the sculptured groups representing Scripture history have been so disfigured as to be rendered ridiculous. The admirable marble statue of the weeping child has received considerable injury, but the beautiful chapels on each side of the choir are in an excellent state of preservation, as well as the marble statues over the altars.

Nothing is missing from them but the gold and silver candlesticks and the rich ornaments of the church; even the bones of the tutelary saint have been unmolested, although the immense box of silver in which they were deposited has been seized. The grand altar-piece of the Cathedral, which spreads across the whole breadth of the church and rises majestically towards the top, has outlived the fury which threatened its destruction; a circumstance which must be ascribed solely to the spirit and good sense of the citizens of Amiens. For when the Revolutionary army from Paris had commenced a general sack of the Cathedral and were demolishing its ornaments, the National Guard of Amiens arrived with its drums beating; a pitched battle ensued in the aisles, which did not finish till the sans culottes were driven out of the Cathedral; the citizens afterwards mounted guard over the minster and saved it from the common ruin a ruffianly horde had involved S. Denys and half of the finest churches in France.

Bishop Evrard began to build this edifice in the year 1220, during the reign of Philip Augustus. Three architects superintended the work—Robert de Luzarche, Thomas de Cormont, and Maître Renoult. In three years the foundations were laid, a marvellously rapid work when their solidity and extent are considered. The Cathedral is built on irregular ground, and required very deep foundations.

Upon the death of Evrard, his successor, Godfroi d’Eu, continued the building, and during the fourteen years he held the episcopal see piles were raised and the Cathedral completed as far as the arched roof.

Arnold d’Amiens succeeded Godfroi, and he was followed by Gerard of Couchy and Alexander of Neuilly; and under their successor, Bernard of Abbeville, the work was completed in 1260, forty years after the foundation stone was laid. This last ecclesiastic adorned the Cathedral with an immense pointed window, which now ornaments the central part of the choir. Beneath it may still be read the following inscription: “Bernardus Epis. me dedit anno MCCLIX.”

Nothing can now exceed the gloomy appearance of this church, shorn of all its former decorations. When we entered there were not more than six old women and a veteran soldier of artillery at their matins, all shivering with cold and hunger. When we associated this circumstance with the absence and former persecution of all ministers of religion, it gave a chilly aspect to the whole scene and damped all those emotions of the soul which arise from contemplating a vast edifice formerly consecrated to piety.

DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS

On our return we viewed the ruins of a building, once the palace of Henry IV., situated at the back of the “Lion d’Or.” It is surprising that the Revolutionary army, in its rage for destruction, left this vestige of royalty untouched. But the fury of the Jacobins seems to have been directed principally against the sculptured heads of saints, for none of the houses in the Close, formerly the Canons’ residences, have been destroyed. They became national property, but they remain until this day without a purchaser. I have been informed that it is the intention of the First Consul to revive the discipline of the Cathedral and restore these houses to the Chapter. A Bishop has been already nominated; but as the Episcopal Palace has been destroyed, a proper house will be provided for him at the expense of the Government.

When a person is travelling in the French Republic, if he arrives at any town which has been a theatre of Revolutionary carnage, he will have no difficulty in collecting anecdotes (should he desire it), some pathetic, some ludicrous, and some horribly jocose, together with many entertaining lies.

France still bleeds at every pore—she is a vast mourning family, clad in sackcloth. It is impossible at this time for a contemplative mind to be gay in France. At every footstep the merciless and sanguinary route of fanatical barbarians disgust the sight and sicken humanity—on all sides ruins obtrude themselves on the eye and compel the question, “For what and for whom are all this havoc and desolation?”

It was in this city that that execrable villain, Joseph Le Bon met his well-earned doom. He was executed among the curses and yells of that very populace who a few weeks previously had received him with shouts of approval and loaded him with caresses.

When he first reached Amiens a poor harmless priest fell under his displeasure. Le Bon issued an order for the arrest of the ecclesiastic, who sought refuge in the woods. This roused the fury of the vindictive tyrant, who wrote instantly to the Committee of Public Safety, declaring he had discovered a great conspiracy, and that an agent of Pitt had fled to the woods, but he was about to adopt vigorous measures to bring the criminal to justice.

The générale was beaten, the tocsin sounded, and all armed citizens were ordered to scour the woods and seize upon the agent of Pitt. On the ensuing day the poor priest, exhausted with fatigue, hunted like a wild beast and utterly famished, returned to the city and surrendered himself to his tormentors. He was at once carried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. He was asked his name, and had no sooner replied than the jury, without hearing indictment or evidence, pronounced him guilty, and he was sentenced to death. Being remanded to the prison he spent the night in prayer. When the Gens d’armes arrived the next morning to take him to the place of execution they found him resigned and courageous. Fortified by his religious sentiments and conscious innocence, he proclaimed that he preferred death to living in a society in which every spark of justice was extinguished. The time was come, he said, when good men should no longer desire to live, and he would show his fellow-citizens in how calm a manner an innocent man could die. He refused to get into the cart, and with a steady step and cheerful countenance, surrounded by the Sbirri of Le Bon and the miscreants who delight in bloodshed, he walked to the scaffold, which he mounted with joy. But even in the moment of death the bloody tyrant continued to torment him, he desired the execution to be delayed until his women appeared at the window of an opposite house; and when these unfeeling wretches, with a ferocity which disgraced their sex, waved their handkerchiefs as a symptom of exultation, the fatal knife was permitted to fall and the victim released from a world which was unworthy of him.

DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS

I have described this melancholy event in order to contrast it with Le Bon’s own behaviour at the place of execution. The night before he suffered excruciating agonies of mind. At intervals he attempted to destroy himself, but fear and hope withheld his hand. He was heard to give loud shrieks, yells of rage, disappointment, terror and despair. When he was brought out of the prison to be seated in the cart, the shout that rent the air cannot be described—a person who was present assured me that the howls of cannibals were nothing compared to it. The populace spat upon him; they asked him, as it was a fine day why he did not walk to the guillotine, as the priest had done a few weeks previously, and die like a man? He was goaded with a thousand terrible questions; and as the procession moved women and children danced in the streets, clapping their hands, and reproaching him with a number of bitter recollections.

Le Bon was convulsed with passion, and sometimes he cried; but when he reached the scaffold he gave a horrible cry, which drew peals of laughter from the spectators. He had to be lifted out of the cart, fear had paralysed his strength; during the short period before the knife descended a hundred mocking voices wished him bon voyage and a happy meeting with his friends in hell. Thus amidst curses did this ferocious monster expire.

Amiens exhibits nothing new or interesting since the Revolution. The shag and plush manufactories and the manufactory of woollen stuffs and goats’ hair continue, but have suffered severely by the events of the last ten years. Trade is still dull, but it is hoped it will soon be rendered more brisk by the return of peace.

On our return to the “Lion d’Or” we were charged seven pounds eight shillings sterling money of the Kingdom of Great Britain for a supper in the Republic of France! I ordered horses, resolving never to set foot again in a house where I had been so egregiously cheated. Just before I stepped into the carriage Madame Pollet made her appearance and exclaimed, “Êtes-vous content, monsieur?”

I promised to let my countrymen know what good cheer they might expect at her house, not forgetting the reasonableness of her charges. I have now fulfilled my promises.

VI
JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY, AND DESCRIPTION OF THAT PLACE

Hebricourt was the next great town upon our route, and here we found another church consecrated to Reason. The cap of Liberty, appropriately placed upon the weather-cock, veered round with every different gust of wind—over the door of the church the words “Temple de la Raison” were inscribed.

At Bréteuil, twenty-three miles from Amiens, we dined, or rather starved, at the Hôtel de l’Ange. They made a thousand apologies for the wretched fare put before us, and explained that there was a fair in the town, and the crowd of country people flocking to it had completely demolished every vestige of provision.

After the plates were removed from the table and we had finished our apology for a meal, we visited the fair. There was a great concourse of people, but no noise or disorder. The women were in holiday clothes, wearing close caps. The men were decently attired, but with cocked hats, which gave them a most puritanical appearance. I did not see a single person intoxicated, nor much show of articles of trade. There were many Merry Andrews, quack doctors and puppet shows.

During the greater part of our journey from Amiens to Bréteuil we observed lands in much better order and farmhouses neater and more comfortable than any we had seen in France; the country is agreeably diversified, and woods appear in every direction.

After Bréteuil the country becomes flat and the soil chalky. We changed horses at Wavigny, St. Just and Clermont, the latter being twenty-seven miles from Bréteuil. The road was paved and in excellent order, the country pleasing and fertile, and woods frequent.

JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY

A little before we reached Clermont we passed the grounds and plantations of the Duke de FitzJames.[1] The elegant Château was completely destroyed by the Revolutionists, and is at this time a heap of ruins. But the name of the duke has just been erased from the list of émigrés, and all his estates restored to him. He is now in Paris, making arrangements for his future life. The return of their old master is eagerly awaited by the country people, and it is hoped that this beautiful spot will once more flourish.

At Clermont there is a manufactory of painted linen; the environs of the town are gay and picturesque, the neighbouring hills afford several pleasing landscapes, and the culture of the vine gave a charming variety to the scenery. To the left is Liancourt, the magnificent seat of the Duke de la Rochefoucauld.[1] This nobleman, well known for his useful writings on agricultural subjects and his travels in North America, has returned from exile, and is improving and embellishing his patrimonial estate.

Cultivation here is more diversified than in the northern Department, through which we have just travelled. Besides vineyards there are fields of lucerne, wheat, clover and corn, and a large quantity of fruit trees. From Longueville, the next post town, we had a delightful ride through the park of Chantilly. On our arrival at Chantilly we slept at the post-house, where a neatness prevailed we had not yet observed in France. The kitchen and stables, usually filthy in a French establishment, were clean and well arranged.

On the next morning we sent to see Chantilly, so famed for its magnificent gardens and for the heroes of Montmorency and Condé who have inhabited it. Alas! it is now one vast heap of ruins. After the fatal August 1792, a horde of Paris miscreants ransacked, pillaged and destroyed the greater part of the chefs d’œuvres of art. The servants, faithful to their ancient master, concealed a number of valuable articles in the woods, and found means to convey most of them to the Prince de Condé.

Of the fidelity and affection of the Prince’s domestics we heard a great deal, and nothing can exceed the respect in which his memory is held by the villagers. On more than one occasion we saw the honest tear start from their eyes at the mention of his name, and the solicitude they expressed for his welfare and their many tender inquiries respecting his present situation in England, convinced us these poor people were sensible they had lost their best friend. When I told them the Prince de Condé[1] lived near London, and was in fairly easy circumstances and kindly received by the King and Royal Family and by the Ministers of State, they were so greatly affected as to excite in our minds a sympathetic emotion of soul, and on the ruins of the Château of Chantilly, on the very spot where once stood the statue of the Great Condé, we shed tears over the fate of his forsaken and proscribed descendant.

No one can be sensible of the desolation of Chantilly unless they saw the gardens, jets d’eau and variegated plantations there previous to 1792.

The Palace is now completely destroyed, there is not even a vestige remaining, all is ruin. As we approached its sight several troops of cavalry were exercising on the lawn. The stables, upon the left, have escaped the fury of the Revolutionists. It is a magnificent building, with all the appearance of a Palace itself. It was originally built for 240 horses. But 400 animals belonging to the Chasseurs stationed at Chantilly are now quartered there without inconvenience.

It is an immense oblong, well paved, with mangers and racks on either side. In the centre is a spacious dome with several apartments now occupied by the smiths of the regiment. All the stags’ heads which ornamented the interior of the building have been struck off, only stumps being left behind. There was formerly a pretty emblematical figure over the reservoir of water under the dome, this has been completely annihilated.

JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY

To the left of the stables is the ménage, an open circular piece of ground, encircled by Doric pillars. Here we found the subaltern officers of the regiment instructing their men in the art of riding. The French soldiers, in general, keep their seats well, but their position does not appear so easy as that of the English. They ridicule our long trot as ungraceful, perhaps with some reason; but horses and riders using it are better able to support a long journey than a Frenchman, erect as a post, jogging on a dancing horse.

On one side of the ménage is the court for carriages and grooms, and a few yards behind the tennis court, as large as the one at Versailles, enclosed in a noble stone building. A merchant has purchased this place, and is resolved to reconvert it to its original purpose. From these edifices, which are all in fair order, we advanced to the scene of horror. The Palace is a heap of ruins; it was purchased by two persons, who demolished it for the sake of the materials, which they sold for above ten times the original purchase money. It is just the name of these Vandals should descend to posterity, they are Damois, an ironmonger of the Faubourg St. Antoine, Paris, and Boulet, a carpenter of Compiègne.

The Château d’Enghien has escaped, and is now used as a barrack for Chasseurs. The Château of the Duc de Bourbon, where the family, except on State occasions, formerly resided, was in the days of the Revolutionary Tribunal converted into a prison, 750 prisoners were therein confined; men and women intentionally herded together in the same apartments, in defiance of decency. The Château of Bourbon has been completely stripped of decorations and furniture, only the bare walls remain. The beautiful bridge of La Volière, which formed the communication between the Palace and the Island of Love, was broken down lest the prisoners should escape over it.

We traversed the lonely apartments, and were shown the study of the exiled Prince de Condé, a room the former beauty of which the mutilated paintings still remaining gave a lively idea. The gallery of Conquest, formerly filled with pictures representing the achievements of Montmorencies and Condés, exhibits now merely a dead wall. As we descended the staircase we observed the walls covered by inscriptions of the names of prisoners, often accompanied by verses alluding to their forlorn condition.

The gallery of marble vases opposite to the Pavilion of Apollo, consisting of twenty-two rams’ heads, which spouted into basins beneath them, is utterly destroyed. The Island of Love is a bog, and the Pavilion of Venus no more.

At the foot of the grand staircase was once a jet d’eau, remarkable for its size and beauty. It had a superb marble column in the centre, around which swans sailed in majestic order, while immense quantities of tench played upon the surface of the water. The column, the jet d’eau and the swans have vanished—the water drawn off and the tench devoured by the Revolutionary army. The romantic cottage by the mill has been pulled down—the carcase of the dairy is still standing, but every article it contained was pillaged, for our guide remarked, “The Jacobins never slept as long as there was anything left to seize.” The small cascade, situated opposite the menagerie, was demolished for the sake of the leaden pipes, profitable articles of sale, indeed all the leaden conduits were removed, so that the numerous communications between the different reservoirs of water and the court being destroyed, the waters in rainy weather overflow their basins and pour upon the adjacent ground. Every step we went we trod in water, and to this circumstance the wretched appearance of the Island of Love is due.

JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY

There was formerly a great menagerie on the opposite side of the court. The Revolutionary army condemned to death the beasts and birds which inhabited it, on the ground that they were agents in the alleged conspiracy of Condé to starve the people. But as they were apprehensive these animals might make a rally, and feeling their courage unequal to the shock of a pitched battle, and being afraid to butcher the animals in detail, they stationed a couple of pieces of artillery on the neighbouring height, and the onslaught commenced. A heavy fire was opened on the imprisoned sovereigns of the forest by the sovereign people—after a breach had been effected the drums beat a general charge, the centre of the Revolutionary army advanced, bayonets fixed, while the right and left wings kept up a smart fire of musketry upon the invisible enemy. The army entered the breach, and the whole garrison being put to the sword, the majesty of the people shone forth in all its glory.

A person who was an eye-witness of the affair described to me in detail this patriotic act of carnage.

At the end of the great court a place was erected by the Prince of Condé for the accommodation of the sick who resorted there to drink the water of a mineral spring. The spring is filled up, and four mills for boring cannon supplant the building. The violence of destruction was so great that the source of these mineral waters cannot now be traced. The immense kitchen garden has been preserved, and the house, which once belonged to Monsieur Hatorme, steward or homme d’affaires of the Prince. It is now inhabited by Damois, the ironmonger, one of the Vandals who bought and destroyed the Château. When the Jacobins came to murder Monsieur Hatorme he fortunately escaped by a small secret door at the back of the house.

No better idea can be given of the general horror and desolation effected everywhere by the Revolutionists than a sight of Chantilly. Thistles and grass cover every part of the gardens, here and there a few solitary tulips peep out of the earth. The fox that peeped through the crevices of the desolate Castle of Ossian could not give a more faithful conception of ruin than those lonely and deserted flowers.

It would not be amiss to give here a description of Chantilly, given fifteen years ago by that acute and intelligent traveller, Mr. Arthur Young:

“Chantilly! Magnificence is its reigning character. The Château is great and imposing. The gallery of the great Condé’s victories and the cabinet of natural history, rich in fine specimens, most advantageously arranged, demand particular notice. The stable exceeds anything of the kind I have ever seen. It is 580 feet long and 40 broad, and is filled with 240 English horses. I came to Chantilly prepossessed against the idea of a court, but the one here is striking, and gives the effect which magnificent scenes impress. This arises from extent and from the right lines of the water uniting with the regularity of the object in view. Lord Kaimes says the part of a garden contiguous to a house should partake of the regularity of the building. The effect here is lessened by the parterre before the Castle, in which the divisions and the diminutive jets d’eau do not correspond in size with that of the court.

“The menagerie is very pretty, and exhibits a prodigious quantity of domestic poultry from every part of the world, one of the best objects to which a menagerie can be applied. The hameau contains an imitation of an English garden. The most English idea I saw was the lawn in front of the stables; it is large, of good verdure and well kept. The labyrinth, the only complete one I have ever seen. In the Sylvae are many fine and scarce plants. The great beech is the finest I ever saw, straight as an arrow, between eighty and ninety feet in height and twelve feet in diameter, five feet from the ground. Two others near it are almost equal to this superb tree.”

We were accompanied as guide at Chantilly by a man named Touret, formerly garde de chasse to the Prince. He is a very sensible and good-natured man. He was accused of an attachment to his ancient master, and for that crime pursued by the Jacobins with unrelenting vigour. He was compelled to fly into the woods, where he subsisted on acorns, nuts and berries for several days, and concealed himself in secluded haunts, which from his former situation as gamekeeper were known to him.

JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY

The contrast between this poor faithful fellow and that of Hautoir, administrator of the district of Genlis, is great. The former, like Shakespeare’s Adam, fled to the woods for the love he bore his master; the latter is an ungrateful miscreant, who rioted on the spoils of his ancient patron. The Prince of Condé had granted to this fellow, who was originally a grocer, every species of parental favour and indulgence. In return for these acts of kindness Hautoir marched at the head of the Revolutionary army to the superb Château, opened it to the ravages of those sanguinary vagabonds, and affixed the municipal seal on the doors of his former benefactor.

Fanaticism in those awful days transported many individuals to the commission of outrages of which I have heard them now express the deepest and most heartfelt repentance. This rogue could only plead a thirst for pillage, which very shortly afterwards was signally proved by his being publicly detected in a particularly mean theft.

The Bishop of Châlons had a pretty pavilion on the lawn, which I have already described. This prelate was compelled to fly, and his retreat occupied by Jacobins. His property was seized and advertised for sale. Hautoir,[1] as administrator of the district, superintended the business.

While he was announcing the business of the day he was detected with having in his pocket a valuable snuffbox belonging to the Bishop, which he had stolen from the cabinet of the ecclesiastic when placing seals on the property. He was not arrested owing to his position as a Revolutionary delegate, but he was severely hissed at the auction, deprived of his position, and now resides in obscurity at Morli la Ville.

After having taken leave of Touret, who had attended us from morning till night during our three days’ excursions in the immense Forest of Chantilly, which, with its territorial domains, extends to more than one hundred miles in circumference, we drove from a spot where, from the charms of the surrounding country, the serenity of the season and the uncommon attractions of all around us, we had passed the sweetest days of melancholy we had ever experienced.

VII
JOURNEY TO S. DENYS, DESCRIPTION OF THAT PLACE AND THE FEUDAL CASTLE OF ECOUEN. ARRIVAL IN PARIS

The road to Luzarches from Chantilly is exceedingly pretty. After passing through part of the Forest we entered upon a magnificent paved road, bordered by trees and lands, which exhibited on either side a little better cultivation than those we had hitherto passed.

Luzarches is seven miles from Chantilly. We were compelled to stop for some time at a miserable inn in this wretched town. One of the wheels of our carriage was broken, and it was necessary to have it repaired. In a miserable room, containing two dirty beds, cold and famished (for we could not touch a morsel that was brought to us), we remained seven hours. The wheel being repaired we proceeded to Ecouen and from thence to S. Denys, but we quitted the public road for the purpose of visiting the Castle of Ecouen, built by Anne de Montmorency, Constable of France. The Château is completely stripped of furniture, even the tapestry being torn away. Two hundred unhappy Vendéans were imprisoned here. It was converted later into a military hospital. Upon the whole nothing is now left of this stately Castle but the walls. It stands on an eminence and commands an extensive prospect. There is a large kitchen garden in front of the grand entrance. A Swiss, formerly in the service of Spain during the siege of Gibraltar, is entrusted with the care of the place. He conducted us over every part of the Castle.

JOURNEY TO S. DENYS

It has all the appearance of a modern prison, and does not convey that appearance of feudal grandeur which distinguishes the Castles on the banks of the Danube and the Rhine.

We arrived at a late hour at the S. Denys post-house, where we were well lodged and comfortably entertained, and early the next day went to visit the Cathedral.

My astonishment was great when the old Swiss, whom I remembered ten years before, opened the door, and I perceived this once beautiful gothic edifice was a heap of ruins. My guide entered into my sentiments of horror and disgust, and certainly did not spare the authors of this devastation. The tombs and mausoleums of the Kings and Queens of France, of Guesclin, of Turenne, and of the most illustrious warriors and great men, were deposited in various compartments of the Cathedral, and formed a striking and splendid decoration. But these, together with the oriflamme of Clovis, the sceptre and sword of Charlemagne, the portrait and sword of the Maid of Orleans, the bronze chair of Dagobert, the reliques and shrines, royal robes and crowns, ancient manuscripts and an immense number of curiosities, sacred and profane—now all vanished; some destroyed: others, by the industry of Monsieur Le Noir, removed to the museum of French monuments in Paris. The Cathedral is unroofed, and it is fraught with peril to traverse any part of it, for stones are continually falling. Our Swiss described with minute precision where every tomb stood, from Pepin to Louis XV. A small room formerly used as a sacristy our pious guardian had converted into an ossory. And here lay in one indistinguished heap the bones of kings, princes and heroes, who for ages had slept undisturbed in the mansions of death. I inquired into the cause of all this ruthless destruction, and was told that the Revolutionary Committee of S. Denys, composed of twelve citizens, six of whom were labouring men, decreed that this ancient and noble ornament of their town should be pulled to pieces for the sake of the lead and iron it contained. Their determination was carried into effect, on the plea that arts and science were of no utility to mankind, and that respect for the habitations of the dead was a mark of puerile superstition. At that time Lavoisier was executed, being told at his trial that the French Republic stood in no need of chemists. After we had quitted the Cathedral we visited the chapel of Mesdames de France. When we entered Divine service was being celebrated therein. The chapel has been stripped of all its ornaments, and was scarcely worth the trouble of a walk to visit it.

S. Denys is not distant more than four miles from Paris.

The approach to the capital is through a wide and magnificent paved road, bordered with double rows of trees, on either side of which are extensive and well-cultivated fields of corn and other grain; but none of those neat and diversified habitations are seen which in our country denote the fruits of commercial industry and mercantile opulence. For that order of men, whom we in England denominate country squires or persons living on their own small estates, the Republic has done nothing; in truth, there are no such persons in France, neither are there any country houses erected with a view to their being inhabited by such a description of beings, much less by merchants and tradesmen. In the “great nation” nothing is so conspicuous as disparity or in other words inequality. Magnificence and filth, opulence and beggary are beside each other. There is no medium in France; in fact, the great middle class which in our country intervenes between rich and poor and forms the solid Doric pillar of society, is unknown in any European country but Great Britain. This class is the most substantial boon for the consolidation of an enlightened form of government; it is the nursery of statesmen, freedom, and equal laws; to the want of it France may ascribe the origin of the greater part of her misfortunes, to the possession of it England is indebted for her independence, her regulated power, and her system of jurisprudence.

JOURNEY TO S. DENYS

Rational liberty can never flourish where there are no classes but high and low. Laws can never be executed, except by the point of the bayonet, in any State where a numerous body of men do not exist who are sufficiently independent to prevent the oppressions of the great from trampling the poor under foot and sufficiently strong to repress the reaction of the poor on the property and security of the great.

Every thinking Englishman must feel the dissolution of this middling order of men would transform the State into an absolute military power, or, what is worse, a tyrannical and licentious democracy. This argument finds an apt illustration in a great commercial city which is under aristocratic government. Hamburg, by the encouragement afforded to that body, is one of the best regulated cities of Europe. Multitudes of country seats belonging to traders are scattered plentifully on the banks of the Elbe; and even Denmark, although a purely absolute monarchy, owes much of its happiness and strength to the importance attached to this order of men—an order which in France has never so far existed. Hence during the old monarchy despotism wantoned in power, or was mildly exercised according to the views and inclinations of the rulers, while during every stage of the Republic the leaders of the people, drunk with authority, wallowed in the blood of their fellow citizens. At this very moment an absolute military despot is governing the country, and the people are, as before, mere slaves, insecure of property or personal security.

The entrance to Paris from S. Denys is not calculated to give a foreigner a favourable idea of the capital. The city has every appearance of filth and poverty, and the Triumphal Arch or Porte S. Denys, under which we passed, has such a sombre cast as to give the traveller the impression that he is going into the courtyard of a prison. I ordered the postillion to drive to the hotel in the Rue Coquenon, where I resided in 1792 and 1793, and where I had left all my books.

When we arrived there I saw written in large letters over the porte-cochère “Maison de Commission.” I alighted and inquired what had become of the former proprietor. I was told that he had been guillotined. We then drove to the Hôtel Morigny, where I afterwards learnt a celebrated Corsican, when times went hard with him, lodged in a small apartment at seven shillings per week. There were, however, no rooms vacant, we therefore took up our lodgings at the Coq Heron—an hotel lately established and kept by an Englishman named Guillandeau, the greatest blackguard in Christendom.

We afterwards removed to private apartments in the Rue Mirabeau, ci-devant Chaussée d’Antin.

VIII
A DESCRIPTION OF THE MODE

I am once more in Paris. A thousand painful recollections obtrude themselves on my mind, and I am almost afraid to inquire after my former acquaintances. I know not where I shall address myself for information, or where I shall first set my foot. When I reflect upon the strange vicissitudes of fortune I have experienced; when I recall the whirlpool of danger I have passed, and the proscription which, with some mean and pusillanimous minds, is still considered to hang over me, I am doubtful whether I am prudent to venture again into the source of all my injuries. The motive that brought me from England, the desire of ascertaining the fate of a relative, so dearly beloved and so long lost, gives strength to my resolution and dissipates my personal anxieties. But I am both low and dejected in mind and spirits.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE MODE

I will attempt to give a faithful account of this capital, which may be considered as the manufactory whence all the horrors and changes of the Revolution have originated. France as a country should not be judged by the dissolute principles of the inhabitants of her metropolis. In the provinces remote from the centre of government as much character and simplicity exist as in the best regulated empires.

The Revolution may in some degree have changed the innocence of the peasantry, and corrupted the primitive integrity of their character. The cause of this may be traced to the artifices of demagogues and atheists. In the mountains of the Vosges, in La Vendée and in the South-Western parts of the Republic, the people of both town and country possess an originality of character founded on sentiments of generosity and virtue. But in many Departments of the Republic, particularly the Department of the Seine, every principle of Society is inverted, and Society itself is loathsome, abhorrent, corrupt, poisoned and poisonous.

My first duty was to visit those old friends who had survived the general wreck of moral order. From them I hoped to learn the history of those who had perished. With an anxious mind I hastened after dinner to the Rue Jacob, in the Faubourg S. Germain, to see if my old friend M. Suédaeur was alive. I inquired if the doctor resided there; the answer was affirmative, but he was not at home. I proceeded to the Rue Niçoise and found M. de la Metherie in perfect health and better spirits than on that gloomy night in 1793 when we last parted. From him I learnt the fatal end of many of my acquaintance, but he mentioned several who were not only in existence but prosperous, and gave me considerable encouragement in what was the main object of my journey to Paris.

I returned home to find a citizen hairdresser playing the devil with my wife’s locks. He had so clipped and twisted them as to give her the air of a person just issued from the bath. Upon my seriously remonstrating against this wild appearance, he very coolly informed me that it was La Mode, and unless my pate was better organised it would be impossible for me to go into good company. I immediately submitted to an operation. My tail was instantly amputated and the hair of my unfortunate head frizzled into such a multitude of compound forms as to give me precisely the appearance of one of the ourang outangs which is to be seen over Exeter Change. Having undergone this ceremony, I supposed I was now in the Mode. But no! He pulled from his pocket two horrible whiskers, which were to extend from my cheek bones and meet at the bottom of my chin, and another piece of hair which was to be hid under my neckcloth and fly up so as to cover my chin.

“What is all this apparatus for?”

“To complete you in the Parisian mode.”

“I will not submit to be made into a baboon.”

“But, sir, you must! It is La Mode!”

“I tell you I will not obey La Mode!”

“Donc, monsieur, vous êtes perdu!”

“If you trouble me with another word on this subject I shall be under the indispensable necessity of knocking you down.”

Thus by an act of matchless fortitude I rescued myself from the hands of this prattler, but not till he had extracted from me eighteen shillings for having made my companion look wild, myself like a monkey, and annoyed me with perfumes and gallipots.

Before we were allowed to retire to rest a tailor, a hatter and a glover made their appearance. All honest tradesmen in Paris are really to be pitied, a long and sanguinary war has ruined their commerce, and these poor hungry wretches are as voracious as sharks. It is impossible to complain of them. To all these civil gentlemen I returned a plain answer, saying I had brought from England every article necessary for use during my residence in France. On which they retired with great politeness, and left me for the first time in nine years to take repose in the capital of a nation whose former rulers thirsted to shed our blood.

IX
ATTENDANCE UPON THE MINISTER OF POLICE

THE MINISTER OF POLICE

The following morning my landlord informed me I must at once wait upon the Minister of Police, present my passport and have it ratified. He added that otherwise he might be called to account, as police emissaries called frequently and unexpectedly at every hotel to ascertain the names of the residents.

Accordingly I engaged a very good chariot at six guineas a week for my stay in Paris, and after paying my respect to our Minister, Mr. Jackson (the British Embassy is lodged in the Faubourg S. Germain), I hastened to the office of the notorious Fouché,[1] the Minister of Police, on the Quai Voltaire, opposite the Louvre, where I was admitted into an ante-chamber, crowded with ninety persons; their number I knew because on entering I received a billet marked 91 from a soldier. I had to wait two hours and a half for my audience.

During this long period I was able to make the following observations. I was never more surprised than at the want of courtesy shown to females in a country which has always boasted more of its gallantry than its virtue. Several well-dressed ladies received their billets long after mine, but when I offered them the precedence, the brute who attends the entrance pushed them back with disgusting insolence and violence. I remarked that I cheerfully resigned my right to the ladies; he replied with a savage sneer, “If you don’t choose to take your turn, pass to the bottom.” In this ante-chamber stood a motley group whose countenances evidently bespoke the sentiments of their hearts. The returned emigrants might easily be distinguished, supple and servile, and never suffering the lowest commissary of police, who wore a little gold or silver tinsel about his coat, to pass without offering him a profound reverence. And they were right, for the ancient aristocracy were lofty and self-conceited, but affable and courteous withal. The modern aristocracy of France, that is those men who have been transplanted from the dunghill to the exercise of public functions, are, in general, brutal in their manners to inferiors, cringing to their superiors and insolent to unofficial persons, they also show strong traits of a ferocity of character.

An unanswerable proof of this degeneracy may be found in the degraded condition of the fair sex, who are no longer treated with that decorous respect which heretofore characterised the French people. This is a nation of soldiers, not cavaliers—not a solitary blade would leap out of its scabbard to resent an insult to the finest woman in the Republic. The sword here is now used, not for the defence of the feeble, but as an instrument to acquire wealth and power.

The Republican soldier is fully as brave as was the soldier of the Royal army, but he is destitute of the honour and urbanity which distinguished the latter.

An army of soldiers, organised for conquest, propelled by avarice, and inured to victory, resemble more the hordes of an Attila or Ghengiz Khan, than the forces of a polished Empire. The Republican troops are now masters of the State, their defeats obliterated, and their victories confirmed by triumphing over the liberties of their fellow citizens.

The other personages who composed this assembly were waggoners, farmers, tradesmen, persons about to depart for the colonies, ladies, and common women. An army subaltern officer came in while we were waiting; without taking a billet he entered the bureau, every person hastily making way for him. I inquired of the doorkeeper the reason of his admittance before his turn, and he replied that no officer of the army was ever kept waiting.

THE MINISTER OF POLICE

We were drawn up in the ante-chamber in two opposite lines, like files of soldiers. A sentinel patrolled backwards and forwards with a drawn bayonet in his hand and maintained discipline. If any one happened to advance a little too forward, he or she received a far from gentle tap from the bayonet to compel them to keep their position.

When at length I was admitted into the bureau I was informed that in consequence of a recent regulation the business of examining passports and giving certificates was transferred to the office of the Prefect, on the Quai du Louvre, the other side of the river.

In the office of the Prefect I experienced no delay. The passport I had received from the Calais Municipality was taken from me and I received another in exchange. On its top was a figure of the Republic, garbed as Minerva, her right hand supported by the fasces and a hatchet. In her left she holds a spear, at her feet a game-cock, standing on one leg, denotes vigilance. On either side are the laughable words in this country: “Egalité, Liberté, Fraternité,” and below as follows, which I insert by way of contrast to passports of former times:

PREFECTURE DE POLICE.

We, Prefect of the Police of Paris, invite the Civil and Military Authorities to permit to pass freely in this Commune, Henry Redhead Yorke, English Gentleman, who declares he lodges in Paris, at the Hôtel Coq Heron, accompanied by his wife. The present pass is only to be in force two months, when it must be revised at the Prefecture, under penalty of being arrested, conformably to the law of the 4th Floreal, year three. Done at the Prefecture of Police, Paris, 23 Germinal, Year 10 of the Republic, one and indivisible.

(Signed) For the Prefect,

(Here followed an illegible signature.)

OFFICE OF PASSPORTS.

Note:—No passport will be delivered on this pass, and the bearer arrested if he be found elsewhere in France, save in the Department of the Seine.

For a longer residence than two months in Paris a petition must be made to the Prefect of Police, without delay.

Residence must not be changed without permission.

Then followed description of my appearance, age, person and signature. On changing my residence the Secretary wrote the day of the month, the street and number of the house upon my pass and returned it to me.

The want of a pass is attended by disagreeable circumstances. One such occurred to me a day or two after our arrival at Paris. Being desirous of saving a little distance on my way to the Pont Neuf, I was stopped by a sentinel and my pass demanded; but not having it about me, and notwithstanding my plea of being a foreigner, I was compelled to make a very considerable détour before I reached my destination.

THE PRESENT STATE OF FRANCE

In England no one would tolerate the introduction of such a system which would prove the destruction of commerce. There are merchants who travel from Bristol, Manchester, and Liverpool to London, merely to settle in the course of a few hours their great concerns and then to return. Conceive what an obstacle to their affairs would be a two hours’ attendance in the ante-chamber of a Minister of Police. Suspicion is the result of fear—the jealousy of a despotism doubtful of its existence—a system proper for the present government of France. But there is more charbonnerie than effective vigour in the boasted police of M. Fouché. If the French Government be seriously inclined to extend their commerce there must be a relaxation in this perplexing system of police, they must give free scope to industry, and not jealously inquire into the motives which may lead their fellow countrymen to visit the capital or pass from one district of France to another. If the present plan is continued the revenues will be less productive, and the support of an immense military, as well as the extensive pageantry of a pompous Government, will be provided for with difficulty and only by imposing severe taxes which depress and ruin the cause of agriculture.

I would not dare to affirm that these consequences are to be traced exclusively to police espionage; but when this latter is contemplated as a brand of a widely extended system of jealous government, it enters into a consideration and forms a constituent of a policy the French Republic will long have good reason to deplore.

X
GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRESENT STATE OF FRANCE

Without a preconcerted plan a person who visits Paris will be lost among the multitude of captivating subjects which require his attention, and he will return to his native country having seen many things but obtained a knowledge of none.

Apart from the private motive which brought me here I live in France only for the good of my country.

My inquiries, conversations and labours, are directed to that end. On the final result of this examination of the state of the French Republic depends my future resolutions and my future destiny.

After twelve years of active engagement on the disturbed theatre of public life; after having seen the rise and fall of contending factions at home and abroad; after having beheld the theories I had studied completely belie themselves in practice, I may, I think, be entitled to give an opinion on political occurrences and public establishments.

On such considerations I proceed to describe the governments, laws, institutions, manners, relative form, internal resources and ultimate view of a people, whom I have seen at one time frivolous, abject and superstitious; at another period starting like Lazarus from a dead repose, roused to a vindication of national liberty; afterwards the base tools of sanguinary demagogues, furious, vindictive and cowardly, renouncing their obligations to God and man, and astounding the civilised world by their folly and their crime—next sighing after that regulated freedom and social order for which they had shed the blood of millions, but never been worthy or able enough to establish; lastly, conscious of their unfitness to be free, relapsing again into the bosom of that ancient despotism, which they had disdainfully trodden under foot, with all the superadded terrors of military government, and a suspicious administration; laughing at the very names of public virtue and public liberty, and themselves the terror and the mockery of Europe. These are great events, worthy of solemn investigation; they have no parallel in the history of mankind. The principal agents in these scenes merit alternate pity and indignation, but the scenes themselves illustrate and present to our minds during the short space of ten years the history of men for ages.

XI
DESCRIPTION OF LONGCHAMPS. BOIS DE BOULOGNE AND THE BOULEVARDS

Strangers in Paris are always recommended to visit the theatres and places of public amusements. Arts, manufactures, courts of justice, useful institutions and distinguished characters in the literary and political worlds rarely trouble. We arrived in good time to see the Easter Promenade de Longchamps in the Bois de Boulogne. This ceremony is for the time uppermost in the heads of the Parisians, it was the only subject of conversation; and every one quitted his house and shop to take a share in the spectacle. The uninitiated might therefore conclude that this favourite diversion of the public was a grand and splendid scene, rivalling the marriage of the Adriatic or the Carnival at Rome.

BOIS DE BOULOGNE

It is on the contrary an insipid and contemptible show, consisting merely in the procession of a long string of coaches, cabriolets, carts and horsemen; with a few boobies mounted on asses, making wry faces, and a number of Merry Andrews playing fantastic antics for the diversion of the populace. There was much noise but no real mirth.

The Bois de Boulogne has been extolled, but it presents no object or coup d’œil either agreeable or attractive. The roads are miserable tracks of sand, and the Wood (?) contains no lofty trees, it consists of an extensive copse, composed of shrubs, none of which exceed eight feet in height. There is a sheet of water laden with boats, which plain calculating English Islanders would call a duckpond.

On our return from this excursion we drove round the Boulevards of Paris. They are by far the most pleasant, neat and lively parts of the capital. Indeed, the expressions I have employed do not convey an adequate idea of their beauty and elegance. They extend around the city 12,100 yards in length, and are at least eighty feet wide, bordered by four rows of trees, which form three alleys, the middle for the use of carriages and horsemen and the two collateral ones for passengers on foot.

On the Northern Boulevards the fashionable and idle resort to while away their time in theatres and puppet shows—at Tivoli, Frascati, public baths and eating-houses; but especially at an exhibition of waxwork, so horrible and disgusting that its mere description would make the hair of the most abandoned English libertine stand on end.

I feel no hesitation in saying that I would rather a child of mine should inhabit hell itself than be a spectator of what I have seen there.

The Southern Boulevard is more agreeable and serene; it has more moral views, and though no meretricious forms render it the haunt of fashionable votaries, there is an air of tranquillity about it, which denotes the absence of guilt and the resort of innocence. This is the part frequented by the industrious tradesman and his family. There are two public gardens on the Northern Boulevard, which from the decorum observed there are justly deserving of encomium, especially when contrasted with other public places in Paris. I mean Tivoli and Frascati.

Tivoli is celebrated for its mineral waters and baths as well as its garden. The French compare its walks to those of our Vauxhall, but the comparison is ridiculous, as well compare the sun to a farthing rushlight. In the first place there are no variegated lamps. The gardens are not lighted at all except the platform appropriated to dancing.

The sheet of water is about sixty yards long and three yards broad. Upon this the gay Parisians perform their nautical exploits or promenade sur l’eau. The illuminations and fireworks are on such an inferior scale that the price of admission, three livres (or half a crown), is absolutely exorbitant. Frascati, at the corner of the rue de la Loi, on the boulevard, is the most elegant lounge in Paris. The garden is small but well lighted—along each walk are busts of the French and English poets, and at the extremity of the principal one is a pretty little hermitage, arranged with great taste. Nothing is paid for admission, the proprietors are amply compensated by the prices the fashionable company of Paris pay for the exquisite ices in the form of peaches and other refreshments supplied at no very immoderate price. There is no place of public amusement here which unites so much elegance with decency, and I was never satisfied with the fascinations of Frascati below stairs. Above the apartments are reserved for gamblers.

THE BOULEVARDS

Chantilly, in the Champs Elysées, is a lower kind of Tivoli, a franc is the price of admission, which includes refreshments. The inferior orders in France conduct themselves with more propriety and are less riotous than the Londoners who assemble at Bagnigge Wells and the so-called tea gardens of our Metropolis.

On the other side of the water, near the residence of the British Minister, in the Faubourg S. Germain, is a fashionable walk in the Garden of Biron. But that which gave me most pleasure was the solitary and unfrequented garden of the Luxembourg. To this solitude I fled when I wished to avoid the noise of Paris. It was also a place of conversation with my friends. Here I learnt the true history of the French Revolution from personages who had distinguished themselves in that wonderful event, here I was instructed in the characters of those who now govern France; this was the rendezvous of concealed Royalists and avowed Republicans. I shall never forget the walks in the Gardens of the Luxembourg. We were too remote from the office of Fouché for our whispers to reach it, and we were too well guarded to become objects of suspicion.

The Government are now repairing the Palace, and the new Senate is to hold its sittings there. The garden will then be cleared and beautified.

There are three or four other public walks in Paris. The Gardens of the Arsenal, the Soubise and the Temple, but they are totally deserted. The garden of the Tuileries, attached to the residence of the First Consul, the Garden of the Palais Royal and the Jardin des Plantes I have not yet described. Each of these gardens has been the scene of extraordinary events and deserve a detailed account and description.

XII
GARDEN OF THE TUILERIES. FOUNDATIONS OF THE REPUBLIC. ANECDOTE OF MLLE. THÉROUANNE. KNIGHTS OF THE POIGNARD. NATIONAL CONVENTION. TRIAL OF LOUIS XVI. ATTEMPT TO SAVE HIM

The garden of the Tuileries is large and handsome. It evokes the memories of the glorious efforts of the brave Swiss Guard, murdered for their fidelity to their trust on August 10, 1792. I have been informed on very good authority that if the King could have been persuaded to remain in the Palace, surrounded by his faithful guards, the victory would have terminated in favour of the Royal cause. Several persons who were then members of the Legislative Assembly have assured me the majority of the Convention never dreamt of a deposition until they perceived their victim at their mercy. The King’s fatal resolution determined those who were yet undecided. But even then it was supposed Royalty would be continued in different hands. The Orleans faction were, however, afraid to exert their power. Those engaged in the conspiracy of the Duke neglected to seize the moment and thus secure their object. They were duped by men who had no share in their treachery, a convincing proof that in political matters too much refinement and fine-spun preliminaries will never avail against unity of principle.

Above a month elapsed before the Orleans faction and the Republican party felt their mutual strength. The former were employed in sounding the minds of others and in treaty; the latter, while they held out encouraging hopes to the former, were concentrating their forces and preparing to strike a decisive blow. Thus they compelled the Orleans party to become their blind instruments.

FOUNDATIONS OF THE REPUBLIC

At length the National Convention assembled on September 21; the Orleans party awaited with eager expectation that some distinguished member of the other side, with whom they had been tampering, should move the deposition of King Louis. They then intended to propose a Regent should be nominated in the person of Philippe of Orleans.[1] The Republicans, however, expected a motion for the total abolition of Royalty.

A solemn pause ensued. How the heart of Orleans must have palpitated! On a sudden the thunder burst from an unexpected quarter; it was reserved for an ecclesiastic to pronounce the doom of a throne which had existed for centuries. Gregoire,[1] Bishop of Blois, exclaimed:

Why debate when all are agreed? Kings are in the moral economy of the world what monsters are in the natural; Courts are the repositories of crimes and the dens of tyrants. The history of Kings is the martyrology of nations. As we are all convinced of these truths, why, I repeat, should we debate?

This speech operated like an electric shock upon the Convention, the members rose en masse, and called for the question. This proposition was then decreed: Royalty is Abolished in France. Thus vanished the prospects of Orleans and his abettors, and so was a Republic established in France.

The fears and listlessness of Louis XVI. were the proximate causes which led to his ruin and overthrow. As a corroborating proof of this statement I give the evidence of a young and beautiful but fanatical girl, Mademoiselle Thérouanne de Mirecourt,[1] who has repeatedly declared to me que c’était la poltronnerie seule du tyran qui sauva la France.

Before I quit this subject I cannot avoid noticing the character of this young woman. During the attack upon the Tuileries she headed a body of pikemen and showed absolute fearlessness and marvellous courage. I have often been in her company, and remarked that she possessed by nature a fund of humanity and a tolerable share of information; but that vanity, desire of popularity and fanaticism made her wild, savage and ferocious. One day she invited me to breakfast with her, and on my entering her apartment I beheld a pike, a sword, a brace of pistols, and suspended over the chimney-piece the bonnet rouge; scattered about the floor lay above a hundred books and pamphlets, on her bed newspapers, on her table Marat’s Ami du Peuple. On my inquiry why a lady of her charms kept such dreadful instruments in her room, she replied: “No compliments, Citizen. Society is undergoing a change, a grand re-organisation, and women are about to resume their rights. We shall no more be flattered in order to be enslaved, these arms have dethroned the tyrant, and conquered freedom. Sit down and take your chocolate.”

With all this severity of character she possessed some attractions and captured the heart of John Sheares,[1] who was executed for treason during the late rebellion. His affection for her was so great that he proposed marriage to her. Had he been gratified in his inclination there is good reason to suppose he might have been now alive, and she in a happy situation. For he often assured me that should his suit prove successful he would abandon politics altogether and retire into private life. He was one of the finest young men I ever beheld, and a handsomer pair would have rarely been seen. But fortune decided their fate should be disastrous. When he tendered his proposals she pulled a pistol from her pocket and threatened to shoot him if he said another word upon the subject. He returned to Ireland, to fall a victim five years later to offended justice. She is now in a miserable state of insanity, confined in a madhouse in the Rue de Sèvre, Faubourg S. Germain.

KNIGHTS OF THE POIGNARD

The Garden of the Tuileries brings to my recollection the famous story of the Knights of the Poignard, when on February 23, 1791, a number of the Knights of S. Louis were supposed to have entered into a conspiracy to carry off the King. I was present on the occasion, and a spectator of the scene. An immense concourse of people collected about the Palace, and there was much noisy talk about concealed daggers, but I saw none, nor any blade save that of La Fayette’s[1] sword, who, mounted on his white charger, galloped to and fro as if the fate of the world depended on his actions.

One moment he formed the National Guard into line. At the next he ordered them to file off, then he dismounted and bolted into the Palace—in a trice he was again on horseback—in short he created more alarm among the people than if an Austrian army had reached the barriers. At length, after a great deal of marching, counter-marching, bustling and puffing, the Marquis assured the mob that all was safe. Here followed great applause, and the populace quietly dispersed. Some Knights of S. Louis were present and were very roughly handled by the people, but no other motive had carried them to the Tuileries except an anxious desire to defend the King against attacks by the mob. There is one fact established by this event, that even at that period Louis XVI. was respected by the people, and they considered their security to be identified by his person. I have not the least doubt that a decided majority of the people of France would at this day rejoice in the restoration of their ancient line of Princes.

The Hall used by the National Convention stands on one side of the Tuileries garden. It was formerly the King’s stables. It is the intention of the First Consul to restore it to its original purpose.

Curiosity induced me to enter a place which had been the focus of so many revolutions, where the Republic was declared, the unhappy King tried, and more bloody tragedies performed in one twelvemonth than in all Europe in the space of two hundred years.

I found it completely dismantled, the galleries, the Tribune, the flag of Liberty that was planted over the Bastille and suspended in triumph over the centre of the hall, all have been destroyed, even the floor removed, and we trod upon the bare earth. The place was, however, so familiar to me that I was able to give my companion a very accurate description of it, and to point out the spot on which the unfortunate King was placed during his trial.

Now that I am upon this subject I will mention some circumstances respecting this event which have not, I believe, been ever made known to the public. I was present at the trial and sat very near to the King. Before he was brought to the bar, it was decreed, on the motion of one Legendre,[1] a butcher, that “No person, except the President, should be permitted to speak a word while Louis Capet was present.” Legendre premised his motion by this remark: “Citizen President, I demand that this Assembly preserves the mournful silence of the tomb, so that when the bloody tyrant enters it may strike his guilty soul with horror.” This speech was received with unbounded applause, and the bloodstained hypocrite Barrère,[1] who was President, apostrophised the people on the propriety of observing silence. There were very few people of respectable or even decent appearance in the galleries; they were filled with the vilest rabble. During the night preceding this mock trial the people in the galleries kept themselves awake by singing the Marseillaise hymn, which was vociferated more than a hundred times. The officers of the National Guard provided wine and cakes for those who were willing to purchase them. In the morning the deputies assembled and proceeded upon the order of the day, Santerre,[1] the brewer, being despatched to the Temple to conduct the King to the Convention.

THE NATIONAL CONVENTION

It was arranged the President should first read the whole of the charges and then propose them severally to the King, demanding answers. He was authorised to interrogate the monarch, and any refusal to answer was to be construed into a confession of guilt. Santerre now presented himself at the bar, and thus addressed the President:

“Citizen President, Louis Capet awaits your orders.”

Before Barrère[1] had time to reply, Mailhé, one of the Secretaries, exclaimed: “Bring him in!” The King attended by several of the officers of the Paris Etat[AAÉtat?]-Majeur, and followed by Santerre, then advanced to the bar, standing erect and firm, and casting (as it seemed to me) a look of defiance upon the silent Assembly. A little before the King entered a member of the Convention said to an Englishman who was present: “This will give you a correct idea of your country in the last century.” To which he replied with uncommon spirit: “No, indeed, we shall see too many tricks here.”

I watched the King with the minutest attention, and I observed that in looking round the assembly, he cast his eye upon the standards taken from the Austrians and Prussians, and gave a sudden start, from which, however, he recovered himself in an instant.

A wooden chair was brought, upon which Barrère invited him to be seated. He then read the whole of the charges, during which the King fixed his eyes attentively upon him. To every charge he answered directly, without premeditation, and with such skilful propriety that the audience were astonished.

When he was accused of shedding the blood of Frenchmen he raised his voice with all the conscientiousness of innocence, and replied: “No, sir, I have never shed the blood of any Frenchman.” His spirit was evidently wounded at this charge, and I perceived a tear trickle down his cheek; but, as if unwilling to give his enemies an opportunity of weakness in his conduct, he instantaneously wiped his face and forehead to denote he was oppressed by heat.

After all his answers had been obtained several papers were handed to him, with some degree of politeness, by one of the Huissiers. This civility was a contrast to the brutal behaviour of Mailhé,[1] the Secretary, who was afterwards desired to present some papers to the King. These papers were said to have been signed by the monarch, and to have been found in a box concealed in a secret part of his cabinet. Their contents were not of great importance, but the object of the Convention was to identify the King’s handwriting. A chair was placed for Mailhé close to the King, but within the bar. Immediately he was seated the unfeeling monster turned it completely round, so as to face the President and show his back to the King. The insulted monarch felt the affront, and showed by the manner in which he resented it a proud superiority over his dastardly enemy. He rose from his seat and remained on his legs during the whole of the examination. Mailhé retained his position, and, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, read aloud each paper and then handed it over his right shoulder to the sovereign, accompanied each time by the query: “Louis, is that your handwriting?” The unfortunate monarch snatched it abruptly from his hand and answered indignantly: “No, it is not my writing.”

A multitude of papers were presented on the one part and denied on the other, in the same style.

Finally Mailhé rose from his seat, exclaiming dramatically, “Louis denies everything! Louis recollects nothing at all!”

A voice from the boxes, behind the Deputies, shouted: “Take off his head!” but it was not noticed.

Thus far victory was on the side of the King. Never were charges more completely refuted by a forsaken individual, deprived of the support of friends or counsel.

The President was at a loss how to proceed. Barbaroux[1] and several Deputies rushed up to his chair and whispered in his ear. This confused him the more. At length Manuel,[1] nicknamed the Solon or Solomon or Socrates of France (I forget which), advanced into the area of the hall, and in a bungling manner said: “President, the representatives of the people have decreed that none of us shall speak while the King—Louis, I mean—is amongst us. Now I propose that Louis be made to withdraw for a little while, so that every member may deliver his opinion.”

THE NATIONAL CONVENTION

No words can give an idea of the silly appearance of Manuel when he found the word King had escaped from his lips. At the sound of that name I perceived Legendre,[1] his body writhing and distorted, preparing to bellow. As he was sitting down he gave Bourdon l’Oise[1] a tremendous box on the ear for calling him to order, which the other returned by a sound blow in the face.

Several Deputies parted them. In the midst of this confusion, when all the members were talking together, Barrère rang his bell and told the King he might withdraw. The King then said to the President: “I request to have the assistance of counsel,” and then withdrew before an answer could be given.

That artful and infernal villain, Barrère, during this trial affected great sympathy towards his injured sovereign, articulated all the charges in a faltering accent, and remained uncovered during the whole time the King was present. Most of the members wore their hats. The Duke of Orleans, who seated himself in full view of his fallen relative, was, however, uncovered.

The King was plainly dressed in an olive silk coat, and looked remarkably well. Barrère wore a dark coat and scarlet waistcoat, lead-coloured kerseymere breeches and white silk stockings. Robespierre wore black. Orleans was habited in blue. The majority of the members looked like blackguards. Legendre wore no neckcloth, but an open collar à la Brutus.

Manuel was much agitated by the misapplication of the word King. Not so the monarch, who dropped a similar expression. As he was giving an account of the invitation to the entertainment at Versailles, which the Queen had received from the Gardes de Corps, he caught up his words and said: “La ci-devant Reine, ma femme.” The rest of this affecting spectacle is sufficiently known. I have mentioned the incidents above because I have never seen them in any printed accounts of that melancholy day.

It has been generally asserted that no effort was made to rescue the captive monarch. This assertion is false. I am personally acquainted with a man who had 15,000 livres deposited in his hands for the purpose of rescuing the King. This sum was so prudently distributed and the plan so judiciously made, that if Santerre had not ordered drums to beat, to drown the forcible appeal the Royal sufferer was making to the people, I surely believe it would have been carried into effect. There were persons on the fatal spot prepared to seize the moment of opportunity, had the fickle character of the Parisian populace, who would send up shouts to Heaven to-morrow at the execution of the First Consul, whom they adore to-day, made it likely that they would have joined or divided in the enterprise.

There is not a spot in this Hall of Convention which does not revive a thousand sublime and painful recollections.

I remember seeing Mirabeau,[1] Barnave[1] and the Lornettes,[1] and on the same side of the Hall those conspicuous members who thundered against the Clergy, the Feudal Laws, and the despotism of the Throne. I have heard the virtuous Mounier[1] pour forth the language of generous indignation against the motion of Barnave on the emigration of the aunts of the King. Methinks I hear again the nervous eloquence of Cazalis[1] on behalf of his King and the established laws of the country. Here I have heard Mirabeau on the Veto; the celebrated speech of Cardinal Moury[1] on Avignon and the Comtal Venaissin,[1] the gloomy metaphysics of Condorcet[1] and the eloquent if mistaken enthusiasm of Grégoire.

GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE

I have also beheld, O wretched change!—this Hall polluted by monsters breathing nothing but death and devastation. I have heard in that Tribune the sanguinary suggestions of Danton and Robespierre, the howlings of Marat—the ravings of Brissot, Anarcharsis Cloots[1] and Gondet,[1]1 and the calembours of the Gascon Barrère.

There, too, I have seen Tom Paine[1] stand up like a post, while another read a translation of his speech. What noise, what uproar and cabals have originated within these walls! They seem besmeared with human blood. The images they excite arise in dreadful succession, and stalk before my imagination like the shades of Banquo’s line.

Never shall I forget the day when in the midst of a solemn speech Gensonne[1] was delivering, the impudent little Marat,[1] who could scarcely reach his throat, gave him a box on the ear. The other took him in his arms and threw him neck and heels out of the Tribune.

XIII
GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE. MANNERS OF THE PEOPLE

The greatest beauty in the world becomes by pollution an odious and repulsive creature. Health and charm flourish only in the practice of virtue and in the abodes of innocence. The prostitute is shunned by every woman of honour and reputation, and dens of vice are avoided by every man to whom virtue is not an empty word.

I am now about to treat of the Palais Royale, that hot-bed of revolution and crime, that nursery of every loathsome vice, that abomination of all virtue and profanation of all religion.

This infernal sink of iniquity is situated in the very centre of Paris, and by certain vicious inhabitants of the capital is considered its brightest ornament, just as the Devils in Milton’s “Paradise Lost” admired the Palace of the Pandemonium. In my last letter I mentioned that Duke of Orleans, who styled himself Philippe Egalité, during the Revolution. This wretch was the proprietor of the Palais Royale. His great grandfather, who was nearly though not quite as great a scoundrel as his great grandson, was the first who made this place the focus for his illicit pleasures; it has ever since been dedicated to Cabal, Bloodshed, Rapine and Debauchery.

During the first moments of the Revolution it was the rendezvous of the desperate, the ambitious and the cut-throat. Political mountebanks, mounted on tables, harangued the people on the Rights of Man. The Palais Royale became the arsenal wherein were forged the instruments of anarchy and murder. Here could an unsophisticated provincial, newly arrived in Paris, listen to provocatives to civil discord and learn those arts by which the repose of France has been disturbed for above ten years. The orators had the words Liberty and Virtue continually in their mouths, but their hearts were rank and rotten to the core, and the real objects they courted were licentiousness and vice.

Their ignorance was only equalled by their effrontery; they talked of subjects they did not understand; they encouraged their countrymen to revolt, they passed their days in exciting the populace to murder, and rioted away their nights in taverns and styes of prostitution. They promoted confusion and civil strife; covetous without economy, and bold without courage, they were deaf to the voice of honour and honesty. The frequenters of this place are in the present day[1] no better than their predecessors. The former march of the Parisian cannibals to Versailles was arranged at and begun from this spot, it was also the rendezvous of the apostles of Marat and the sbirri of Robespierre.

I remember the last interview had in this garden with the mad Colonel Oswald, who asserted that a representation of the people was as great a despotism as absolute monarchy. He asserted as a man could not eat by proxy, so he could not think by proxy. He proposed, therefore, that men and women should assemble in an open plain and there make and repeal laws. I endeavoured to persuade him that his plan was not sufficiently extensive, as he had excluded from this grand assembly the most populous portion of his fellow creatures, i.e., cats, dogs, horses, chickens, sheep, cattle, &c.

Oswald was originally a captain of a Highland regiment in the British service, and when quartered in India lived some considerable time with some Brahmins, who turned his head. From that period he never tasted flesh meat. He did not, however, embrace the whole Brahmin theology, for he was a professed atheist and denied the metempsychosis, and drank plentifully of wine. Such a man, living in a fermented capital, was capable of doing much mischief. He dined on his roots one day at a party of some members of the Convention at which I was present, and coolly proposed, as the most effectual way of averting civil war, to put to death every suspected man in France. I was deeply shocked to hear such a sentiment proceed from the mouth of an Englishman. The expression was not suffered to pass unnoticed, and the famous Thomas Paine remarked: “Oswald, you have lived so long without tasting flesh that you have now a most voracious appetite for blood.”

GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE

In consequence of my remarks upon this occasion, Oswald invited me to meet him in the gardens of the Palais Royale. As soon as I arrived I found him already there. He darted forward, drew his sword and exclaimed: “You are not fit to live in civilised society!” Having uttered these words he returned his sword into the scabbard and disappeared in a moment. His regiment was ordered to La Vendée, when, while bravely leading on his men at the battle of Pont-de-Cé, he was killed by a cannon ball; and at the same instant a discharge of grape shot laid both his sons, who served as drummer boys in the corps he commanded, breathless on their father’s corpse. He had two wives, who still reside in Paris. They were both singularly handsome, and, strange to say, lived together in friendship and harmony.

The history of this warrior brings to my recollection a curious rencontre I had in this place with Anarcharsis Clootz, who called himself “Orator of the human race.” For four hours did this man expose his political dreams. In six months the tri-colour flag was to wave over the dome of S. Sophia at Constantinople. A month later it would be seen on Mount Caucasus, and then at St. Petersburg and Pekin.

Paris would be the capital of the world, mankind composed of one family, subordinate to one government, and French be the sole international language.

All this would be accomplished in the short space of three years. Before these wonders could come about Anarcharsis was publicly executed, together with many other fanatics. I have actually heard this man propose at the Jacobin Club that the moment the French army came in sight of the Austrian and Prussian soldiers, they should, instead of attacking the enemy, throw down their own arms and advance towards them, dancing in a friendly manner. Such a measure, he was persuaded, would strike the wretched victims of tyranny with a sentiment of affection, which would be announced by an equally sympathetic movement.

After such a proposition I suspected that the accusation by which he perished, namely that he was a pensioner of the King of Prussia, had some foundation.

Unquestionably Clootz, by his speeches and conduct, cast more ridicule than any man else upon the Revolution. His abominable deification and worship in the Cathedral Church of Notre Dame of an abandoned woman, whom he created Goddess of Reason, and the manœuvres he employed to induce Gobel, Archbishop of Paris, to renounce his character and belief at the bar of the Convention, are proofs either of madness or conspiracy.

GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE

The Palais Royale is an immense building, in the form of a parallelogram, within which is a garden distributed into separate gravelled walks. In the piazzas which run along the sides of the edifice are shops, coffee-houses, bagnios, money-changers, gambling-houses, and stockbrokers. The jewellers’ shops are as numerous and brilliant as if neither misery nor miserable human beings existed. You see nothing but chains, half pearl, half diamond. The woollen drapers unfurl from the top of their shops to the floor every kind of stuff. The stuffs are under your hand, no one watching you; and the master is careless and sorry when you ask him the price.

The odour of exquisite ragouts ascends in vapours to the air, the side tables are loaded with fruit, confectionery and pastry, and you may dine to the sound of musical instruments and French horns played by girls who are not nymphs of Diana. Petty gaming-houses support the shops of women who sell garters, lavender water, toothbrushes and sealing-wax. Booksellers’ shops allure the libertine and entrap innocent youth. Pictures from curious collection books, licentious engravings, libidinous novels serve as signs to a crowd of loose women, lodging in the wooden shops. Their nets are ten feet distant from the sauntering youth, idle and already emaciated in the flower of his age. Above the wooden shops are gambling-rooms, where all the passions and torments of hell are assembled.

As soon as the day closes all the arcades are suddenly illuminated, the shops become resplendent and the crowd more numerous. This is the moment when the gaming-houses open under the sanction of the Government and afford it a productive revenue. While the great sharpers are employed in the drawing-rooms above, the lesser ones are at work in the through passages, which communicate with the adjacent street and serve as gliding holes to swarms of pickpockets and money jobbers. Your steps under the arcades are arrested by smoke, which pricks your eyes, it is the kitchen flame of the restaurateurs. Close to them are the balls beginning in subterraneous grottoes. Across the air-holes you see circles of girls, leaping, giggling, rushing on their gallants like Bacchantes. In the auction rooms the brokers, dealers, retailers are all seated. Women’s wigs, chimney pendulums, shawls, handkerchiefs, shirts, beds â la Duchesse were sold to the highest bidder. Spies of the police prowl in every coffee house, but no one dares now talk politics in them. Under the arcades are holes of shops, where young girls attract the passengers by their glances. These places are the assiduous rendezvous of every man fattened by rapine, army contractors, agents, administrators of tontines and lotteries, professors of nocturnal robberies, and stock-jobbers.

These places are to the seraglio what the cookshops are to the restaurateurs. At these latter places you are served by a nod. The dish is placed on the table the moment it is ordered. Private rooms offer you everything to satiate gluttony and sensuality. The glasses which decorate them offer to the libidinous eye of an old satyr the charms of his mistress, and all the seats are elastic. There is a private saloon in which you drink the coolest liquors, and where burnt incense escapes from boxes in light cloudy streams. There you dine à l’Orientale! and find on certain days all the pomp and singularity of a repast of Trimalcion. On a signal given the ceiling opens, and from above descended heathen goddesses in classical attire. The amateurs choose, and the divinities, not of Olympus, but the ceiling, join the mortals.

GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE

Such is the infected lazar house, placed in the middle of a great city, which has reduced the whole of society to degradation and corruption. Independently of the fatal contagion of gaming, the excuses of cupidity under all its forms, and the licentiousness of morals, blasphemy and infidelity in every mouth, and at every moment, brutal and depraved language has pervaded every condition and made a sport of sacred words heretofore never pronounced without respect. Everywhere you meet troops of children, without order or modesty, who swear, blaspheme, and scandalise chaste and pious ears. At Sodom and Gomorra they would not have allowed such books to circulate as are printed and sold in the Palais Royale. The infamous work of De Sade,[1] “Justine, or the Misfortunes of Virtue,” is exposed on every stall, and a hundred other productions, equally distinguished for turpitude and vice, are there to finish the decomposition of what instinctive morality remains in the hearts of young people.

I cannot help expressing the utmost indignation against the compiler of a publication just issued, entitled, “A Practical Guide, during a journey from London to Paris,” in which the writer asserts “that no station, no age, no temper could leave the Palais Royale without an ardent desire to return.” It is proper the English public should not be thus abused by perversions and falsehoods, and on this account I have entered more fully into a detail of the wanton and disgusting scenes at the Palais Royale than their monstrous enormities would otherwise deserve.

Accompanied by an English gentleman, like myself a married man, we visited every part of this Temple of Sin, and we agreed in opinion that as long as it existed it will be vain to look in Paris for any sincere demonstrations of either moral probity, decency in private or honesty in public life. The Government appears sensible of the evil, though they have taken no steps to prevent it. It is believed, and from what I have seen I do not entertain the least doubt upon the subject, that they protect these scenes of voluptuousness for the purpose of enervating the minds and diverting the attentions of the Parisians from the consideration of public affairs.

If this is not the case why should the legislators and the Government be continually preaching up the advantage of morality, and the necessity of establishing a national education system for the encouragement of virtue and the suppression of vice, when they receive at the same time a considerable revenue from the wages of harlots and the profits of gambling-houses? Why is a soldier stationed at the door of every one of these dens of impurity but to demonstrate that they are tolerated? There is another circumstance which is noticeable in the Palais Royale, this is the domineering aspect and conduct of the military, the airs and consequence assumed by the soldiers, and the manifest superiority they affect and maintain over their fellow citizens. Every one makes room for them to pass, the officers strut or saunter along arm in arm, the clinking of their sabres along the pavement announcing their approach warns the servile citizen to make way. The very prostitute, leaning on the arm of the large whiskered regimental pantaloon, feels an importance far above her sisters. She laughs and talks loud, and as she moves exacts from the spectators the ecstatic apostrophe: “Eh! regardez-là, comme elle est belle!”

These things are better ordered in our country, which is at once a land of liberty and of paramount laws. The soldier, with us, comprehends the obligation he owes the laws, and while he displays the utmost loyalty to his sovereign he associates under the idea of duty a regard for his fellow subjects. I cannot conclude this subject without noticing a remark made to me by one of the founders of the French Revolution, an ex-Bishop and now a member of the Senate.

The thing [said he] which gives me most pleasure in your English institutions is the general appearance of moral conduct that everywhere prevails, the astonishing observance of Sunday and holy days, the respect for religion, and the orderly and unaffected manners of your soldiers, who are neither insolent nor consequential, but who seem to feel they are neither masters nor slaves.

XIV
EXCURSION TO VERSAILLES

Versailles is four leagues from Paris, and the road leading to it is perhaps the finest and most elegant in the world. I was prompted by curiosity to pass two or three days in a city formerly the seat of government and pleasure, and which now presents a striking contrast with its ancient splendour. When I last saw Versailles it was the pride and boast of the French nation. What a change does it now exhibit! how silent are those streets, formerly the scenes of gaiety, bustle and delight! In consequence of the events of the Revolution and the removal of the Court, its population is reduced from 80,000 to 18,000 souls. It is now, therefore, the cheapest town in France, and to those who are fond of sequestered walks and retired scenery offers a most enchanting residence. There are excellent libraries, quiet and good society, plenty of rational amusements, and the disgusting orgies of vice and sensuality so prevalent in the capital are here unknown.

EXCURSION TO VERSAILLES

The Palace is built on an elevated site, and is a gorgeous and massy pile. The following is the account given of its origin. Louis XIII. purchased the land of John de Soissy[1] in 1627, and erected upon it a hunting lodge. Louis XIV. was delighted with the site, and decided to erect a magnificent Palace upon this spot. He collected skilful architects and artists, converted the village into a city and the hunting lodge into the finest royal residence in the world. The work commenced in 1673, and was completed in 1680. The artists employed were Mansard[1] for the architecture, André le Nostre[1] for the arrangement of the gardens, and Charles le Brun[1] for the department of painting, sculpture and design. The stables were planned by Mansard, commenced in 1679 and completed in 1685, they are remarkable for the regularity of their structure, and relieved by some good pieces of sculpture.

The entrance to the interior of the Palace by the grand marble staircase is closed. It was the original design of the Government to have converted this Palace into a museum of the French School, by retaining the paintings and ornaments it contained. But since the whole of the Republic is now squeezed to furnish wealth and splendour to the Metropolis, the greater part of those paintings have been removed to Paris. The Cabinet of Natural History has also been stripped of all its beauties for the benefit of the Parisians. We entered by the last staircase on the North Terrace, into the Saloon of Hercules, sixty-four feet long by fifty-four feet broad, superbly decorated. The ceiling is painted with a representation of Olympus and the apotheosis of Hercules. In the middle of this saloon is the marble Cupid formerly in the Temple of Love at Trianon.

The second great apartment is the Hall of Plenty, the ceiling painted by Houdon,[1] then comes the Hall of Diana, painted by Blanchard.[1] The fourth apartment is called the Hall of Mars. Audran[1] has painted this deity in his car, surrounded by all his martial attributes. Here is an ingenious mechanical clock by Moraud, which played a carillon every hour, but since the Revolution the tunes have been altered. Through the Halls of Mercury and Apollo we reach the Saloon of War. Over the chimney-piece is a fine oval bas-relief of Mars on horseback, but as the head of Mars was a copy of the features of Louis XV., the Sovereign People thought proper to knock it off. It is in contemplation to repair this mischief by placing a resemblance of a celebrated Corsican gentleman in the stead of the former master.

It would be folly to dispute the superiority of the French in the art of decoration; their public edifices, without excluding those constructed since the Revolution, exhibit the highest proof of excellence in the ornamental art, and in no part of Europe is there any apartment to compare with the Grand Gallery of Versailles, for both arrangements or magnificence. It is 220 feet in length, 30 in breadth and 32 in height, and contains seventeen large windows, opposite which are as many arcades, filled with looking-glasses that reflect the gardens and their water pieces.

Between the arcades and the windows are forty-eight pilasters of the rarest marbles, the bases and capitals being of gilded bronze.

EXCURSION TO VERSAILLES

The Gallery terminates in the Saloon of Peace, which formed part of the apartments of the Queen of France. Beyond this chamber are two apartments, which complete this magnificent suite, they are superbly ornamented with plate glasses, vases, columns and busts. In the last there are twenty-two paintings by Leseuer, brought from the Chartreuse monastery.

Formerly we might have passed through the apartments of the late King and descended by the marble staircase, but these rooms are now all occupied by military invalids. We had to return through the state saloons and descend to the gallery which leads to the Opera House, unquestionably the most magnificent in Europe. This building was commenced in 1753, and it was only finally completed in 1770, being first used for the festivities given in honour of the marriage of the late unfortunate Louis XVI., then Dauphin.

It would be tedious to detail every particular of this elegant hall, suffice it to observe that it combines taste with splendour, and that the orchestra is large enough to contain eighty musicians. The Chapel of the Palace was finished in the year 1710 and is a superb monument. This chapel has been preserved with great care from the havoc of the Revolution, and is in the same state as when it was the daily resort of the Royal family of France.

The Library is detached from the Palace, and consists of a collection of books in different languages, by no means comparable, either for choice or arrangement, to his Majesty’s collection at Buckingham House.

One compartment was peculiarly appropriated to the use of the late King and Queen, and their handwriting is often to be met with in turning over the books. There is a splendid volume in vellum, containing an account of a tournament given by Louis XIV. at the conclusion of a general peace, when the Princes of the blood and the nobility appeared in costumes of different nations and characters. Larcher’s translation of Herodotus is printed on the richest paper I ever beheld. The librarian tells me it was a favourite work of Louis XVI.

The Palace is surrounded to the west by three enclosures the last of which, called the Great Park, is thirty miles in circumference, and comprises the villages of Bac, St. Cyr, Bois d’Arcy Bailly. On the north of this Great Park are Nursery Gardens, and on the south the furthermost ponds and aqueducts which conduct into the reservoirs of the Deer Park. There were very few deer there, but an immense quantity of game, which has been entirely destroyed by the Sovereign People. The circuit of the little park comprises several farms, one of which, the Menagerie, has been presented by Bonaparte to the celebrated Abbé Siezes.[1] This property and Trianon are enclosed at the two extremities of the two arms of the canal.

The most noble entrance to the Park is by the great stairs of the greenhouse. When the waterworks played the coup d’œil was exquisite. Various parts of the garden are ornamented with groves, groups, antique statues, bottes, vases, basins and fountains in marble, bronze or gilded metal. The principal groves are the Rock or Bath of Apollo, the colonnade, the domes and the three fountains.

The Bath of Apollo is the masterpiece of Girardon.[1] This divinity is represented surrounded by nymphs offering their services, the two groups of horses held by Tritons are admirably executed. The figures of Apollo and the nymphs are on an elevated situation at the entrance of the Grotto of Thetis, upon the top of a rock which has been wrought into a most romantic form. On either side the horses are seen in the act of drinking; a large quantity of water falls into a great reservoir, with wild and picturesque beauty, and the whole piece is enclosed within a plantation of wild and exotic trees. Nothing can exceed the extreme beauty of this spot and the exquisite sculpture of the horses.

VERSAILLES

The Grove of the Colonnade is remarkable for the group representing the Rape of Proserpine. The Domes contain two cabinets supported by eight marble columns and enriched with bas-reliefs of bronze and metal.

The statues of Amphitrite, Acis and Galatea are the most distinguished in this collection.

All the other groves are ornamented with bas reliefs and pieces of sculpture. The basins of water, fountains, arcades and spouts which abound in them, give additional charm to the scenery.

Amongst the groups scattered about the garden are two by Puget—these are Milo of Crotona and Perseus delivering Andromeda. The great piece of Neptune is a vast basin of water, ornamented with five groups and twenty-two great vases of bronze metal. The principal groups represent Neptune, Amphitrite, Proteus and the Ocean.

The greenhouse was built in 1685, upon the plan of Mansard. The parterre, decorated with marble vases, is surrounded with a considerable number of orange trees, some of them as old as the time of Francis I.

The hothouse is 480 feet long and 38 wide, in the middle is a statue in white marble executed by Dessardin, 10 feet 9 inches high, of Mars, dressed Roman fashion. Why this divinity has been placed in the abode of Flora I have not been able to understand.

Opposite to the greenhouse is a large basin, 2100 feet in length and 700 in breadth, called La Pièce des Suisses, at the extremity of which is an equestrian statue of Louis XIV. They have changed the traits of the countenance so that it now represents Quintus Curtius. These metamorphoses are very common in France, and have been occasionally carried to blasphemous impiety. A picture represented the Descent of the Saviour from the Mountain—the countenance of the Redeemer was altered so as to represent that of Robespierre; should the painting descend in this dishonoured state to posterity it will be a memorable record of the iniquity and madness of the days of the Terror.

On one side of the Pièce des Suisses are 50 acres of land, which formerly served as the King’s Garden.

The canal is 4800 feet in length, the two branches join on one side of Trianon; but the whole is in a wretched state and almost destitute of water.

Trianon, called in the twelfth century Trianum, is the name of an ancient palace belonging to the diocese of Chartres. Louis XIV. purchased it from the Abbaye of Ste. Geneviève. It has always been called the region of flowers on account of the enchanting gardens, by which it is surrounded. The two wings are united by a peristyle of twenty-two columns of the Doric order, and the whole building contains only a ground floor.

The gallery and the billiard-rooms are ornamented with a great many different views of Versailles and Trianon, but all the gilded fleurs de lys which were affixed to the frames have been torn off by order of the Jacobin Municipality at Versailles. A fine portrait of the Emperor Joseph II. in this Palace was destroyed years ago.

Charles Delacroix attended the sale of the movables, and when this picture was put up to be sold, he observed to the citizens that no true Republican could desire to have any resemblance of the family of Marie Antoinette, and therefore he should serve this portrait as he would like to deal with all kings. Accordingly he drew a carving knife from his side and decapitated the Emperor Joseph. It was Hildebrand, the Suisse keeper of Trianon, from whom we heard this anecdote; and as he told it to us, he grinned a horrible and ghastly smile over the acts of the Revolutionists.

Little Trianon is at the extremity of the Park belonging to Trianon. The beautiful gardens are now going to decay. The pavilion and grounds are held for three years at the rent of 18,000 livres (£750 sterling a year) by a man who was formerly cook to the late Queen. He realises considerable sums by the curiosity of the traveller and the visit of Parisian cockneys, the admissions being a franc for each male and half a franc for each female.

VERSAILLES

But although he contracted to keep the place in good repair he has allowed it to go to ruin. For instance, the lovely little Temple of Love, situated in the midst of artificial rocks and surrounded by a thick wood, has been completely ransacked, the marble floor pulled up and removed and the little Cupid transferred to Versailles. All the cottages are falling to pieces, and the water has been drawn off the lake.

This once enchanting spot was once the favourite resort of the late Queen, who often amused herself in sailing thither from the sheet of water in the Great Park.

These are the chief places of any note at Versailles. I have been rather minute in my narrative in order to establish a comparison between the ancient and present state of that celebrated place.

Versailles, as the capital of the Department, possesses a Criminal Tribunal, composed of a President, two Judges and Assistants, a Registrar and a sworn Commissary.

Justices of the Peace abound in every district, but it is in contemplation to reduce their number.

A project has been submitted to the Council-General of Versailles to make a number of embellishments and build a magnificent town hall for the use of the mayor and municipality; but as the town is already considerably in debt it would be a prudent and honest measure, though one not much practised by the present French Government, to postpone these decorations until they have liquidated their debts.

An hospital, under very excellent administration, is established here, and there are public baths near the park, open from four in the morning till nine at night.

We passed our time very agreeably at Versailles and were well accommodated, though the charges could not be called reasonable. The expenses of a dinner for four and lodging for ourselves and two servants for one night amounted to over four pounds sterling. We arrived at an unlucky moment in the hotel. For a young Irishman of rank was unfortunately in the house with his newly-married bride, and when we reflected that in less than six weeks’ residence in Paris he contrived to spend £16,000 it was not surprising that we too were bled in honour of our national character for generosity.

An English gentleman of our acquaintance and also personally acquainted with this young man and his lady, paid them a visit, and told me that they displayed to him a purchase of fifty-six snuff-boxes and twenty-five watches.

This recital excited our merriment, and we tried to imagine what motive could induce those young persons to throw away their money in such a ridiculous manner. He could not take snuff, it always made him sick. A man of his fortune could not have bought those trinkets as an article of merchandise, and they were too many and certainly unsuitable to decorate the girdle of his lady at a birthnight ball.[2]

Finally we united in surmising that these costly articles were intended as presents for the electors of the county of X——, for which he proposed to be returned as member at the coming election.

Having now thoroughly investigated the remains of the once magnificent Versailles, we took leave of Mr. B——, who set off for La Vendée, and returned to Paris through the Bois de Boulogne.

XV
ACCOUNT OF AN ESTABLISHMENT AT CHAILLOT FOR THE RECEPTION OF THE AGED AND DESTITUTE

ASYLUM FOR AGED AT CHAILLOT

The French Revolution having overthrown those humane establishments, which had for long ages subsisted in the country, some private individuals are generously endeavouring to repair those breaches which crime has effected in the order of society.

Nothing tends more to the happiness of society than the discovery of practical methods which may increase the comforts of those who are no longer able to support themselves.

When a nation has increased in number and power, it is bound to provide for its people additional means of subsistence. Beneficence should not be stationary when nations are progressive. I will now enter into a detail of the establishment of Chaillot, which is equally praiseworthy for its benevolent views and ingenuity.

I happened to fall into company with a ci-devant nobleman, named Duchaillot,[1] who, during the time of the Terror, lost all his fortune and took refuge in Berlin.

I found he possessed a sound and inquisitive mind, and was thoroughly conversant in every branch of domestic economy. He inquired whether we had in Great Britain and Ireland any institutions which offered a retreat for old age. I answered they were numberless. But this answer did not satisfy him, and he placed his question on a different footing. “Have you,” said he, “any institution independent of charitable purposes, in which male and female persons, after they have reached the age of seventy can by right and without asking the favour of any individual, place themselves in order to pass the remainder of their days in comfort and repose?” As I failed to recollect any such establishment in England, he immediately said: “Come and dine at my house to-morrow and I will show you one.”

The house of Monsieur Duchaillot is beautifully situated at Chaillot, in the Champs Élysées, commanding an extensive view of the city, the Seine and the Champ de Mars. In front, there is a large and elegant parterre, terminating in an extensive kitchen garden. Behind there is another large house, formerly the monastery of S. Perine, which also belongs to this establishment, and a field of about four acres, bordered by a well-cultivated garden.

In this retreat I found above one hundred aged persons, of both sexes, whose manners and appearance showed that they had once figured in the genteeler walks of life, and whose countenances indicated the most perfect happiness and content.

“This,” said he, “is the retreat I have established for old age.”

The chambers occupied by the female part of the society compose the right wing of the house. Each female has a bed-chamber to herself, and there is a parlour or sitting-room appointed to two females. Their clothing, if required, is found for them.

The left wing of the house is occupied by the males, the arrangements being precisely similar to that adopted for the females. Husbands and wives have rooms to themselves.

The diet corresponds with the neatness and simplicity of the apartments.

At one o’clock a plentiful dinner is served to the whole society in the refectory, and at seven they re-assemble for supper. Besides a sufficient quantity of meat and vegetables each person is allowed a pound-and-half of bread and a bottle of wine daily.

ASYLUM FOR AGED AT CHAILLOT

In case of sickness they are removed to a part of the house used as an infirmary, where medical attendance is provided, and they receive every possible attention. In case of decease, they are decently interred in the neighbouring church, at the expense of the society, or elsewhere at the expense of their friends.

Their time is entirely at their own disposal. They may even employ themselves in any lucrative occupation, provided it does not interfere with the quiet and general rules of the house.

I observed several females engaged very profitably in needle work and embroidery. What little emoluments they acquire by their industry supply them with pocket-money. The men pass their time in reading, walking in the neighbouring fields or in the garden. I observed they were usually less active than the women, but much more devout. I met an old Abbé whose whole time is spent in reading his breviary, missal and other religious books. His library was composed of about 200 volumes.

Another, about seventy-four years of age, had seen much of the world. His manners were prepossessing, and his conversation proved him a man who lived for others rather than himself.

He was pious without austerity, cheerful without dissipation, and polite without frivolity. He had seen better days, and been one of those sufferers whom the Revolution had plundered and proscribed on account of his attachment to religion. He never spoke with the least asperity of what had happened, he only shrugged his shoulders and smiled contemptuously at the miserable efforts of his countrymen to establish liberty and equality. He was well read in French literature and fond of astronomy. But his favourite books were a Bible and Don Quixote, Cervantes being an author to whom he was especially partial.

Just as we were sitting down to dinner one of the old gentlemen entered, and with great vivacity, informed Monsieur Duchaillot he proposed going to the play. On inquiry, I found he had been an amateur of music; and that at seventy-two years of age his taste for it was still so predominant that he was about to avail himself of a ticket a friend had sent him to see the second representation of Poesiello’s Zingari in Flora, at the Opera Buffa.

I have entered into these details to show that there is no restriction on their amusements, and that they are entirely their own master. Upon the whole, I observed that they were all more or less engaged in religious exercises.

At that period of life when mind and body require repose, when it is necessary old age should “walk pensive on the silent solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon,” what can be more consolatory than a retreat where wants are supplied and infirmities alleviated without reluctance or repining?

It has been alleged against most governments of Europe that there is nothing seen but youth going to the gallows, and old age to the workhouse.

A government is no more responsible for the misfortunes than for the crimes of its subjects, and all that can be expected is that it should give a proper direction to charitable provisions, and guard them with the sacred sanction of the law.

It will be found a true maxim of public economy that these charitable institutions should spring from the natural sympathy of mankind—nothing is needful for government than to see that they are administered honestly.

This fact has been illustrated in Britain, where there exist more usual monuments of piety and benevolence, than in all the other countries of Europe put together.

ASYLUM FOR AGED AT CHAILLOT

In the course of my visits to Chaillot, Monsieur Duchaillot often expressed a wish that a similar establishment should be attempted in England. At first it appeared to me liable to some objections, but these he successfully removed. I thought that respect for aged parents being a quality inherent in the character of every Briton, that such an institution might have a tendency to look as if we meant to canonise ingratitude and place old age in the light of a burdensome load upon the community.

Barbarous natives are accustomed to destroy the old in order that the young may live. But in civilised countries, where agriculture, arts and commerce flourish, and where a greater degree of population promises a greater degree of stock, such motives could never for a moment enter the breast of a human being. I am aware however that some eight years ago it was seriously proposed in the Jacobin Club, to knock all the old people on the head or starve them to death, lest they should consume what would be necessary for the support of soldiers and citizens.

But even in that wild and guilty assembly there were some persons who had not utterly abandoned the feelings of men, and this abominable principle was not carried into execution.

Monsieur Duchaillot combated my opposition to his scheme, by pointing out that it is the object of the institution at Chaillot not to destroy but to give efficacy to domestic attachments. All persons who enter there can experience the attentions of their kinsmen by receiving their visits or visiting them.

Secondly, the institution is only intended for those who cannot provide for themselves, and whose friends and relations cannot provide for them.

Thirdly, more comforts and enjoyments, more attention can be procured under one establishment than when a number of persons are dispersed individually in private houses.

Fourthly, it is not necessary that every one who becomes a member of this Society should be either a father or a mother. There are a multitude of unmarried persons of both sexes, to whom such an establishment offers a happy asylum.

Fifthly, many fathers and mothers of families would prefer the society of persons of their own age and circumstances, and if they are discontented with the institution they can leave it when they choose.

After hearing these arguments I became convinced that similar establishments would be thankfully received by every rational man in our country, who at all reflects on the uncertain chances of prosperity in life.

How many industrious persons contemplate the approach of old age with horror. How many respectable worthy people meet misfortune in the decline of life. Is it right there should be no refuge between death and the workhouse? Should not some encouragement be held out for securing a retreat against misfortune and the inevitable ills attendant on old age?

I will now give M. Duchaillot’s own account of his establishment.

RETREAT FOR OLD AGE AT CHAILLOT.

Several zealous and humane persons, who wish to assist and befriend the unfortunate, have united to execute a beneficent plan, by which industry itself may generate the means which will give a certain property to those who, worn out by age and misfortune, possess none. To attain this object a small voluntary sacrifice only is required, according to a progression almost imperceptible to persons who are not even in easy circumstances. The difference between this institution and hospitals consists in this, the subscriber has a right to the possession of this property for life, acquired by his own economy and labour, and for which he is indebted neither to the compassion nor the liberality of others. Here no act of patronising benevolence humbles self love or mortifies pride.

This institution encourages morality, by habituating persons to make a proper use of their small surplus, resulting from their profits or labour, which is too often squandered in debaucheries. It will animate them to be industrious as an infallible resource against that adversity which is inseparable from old age without fortune.

The plan is simple and inexpensive, its execution prompt and within the reach of every one.

ACCOUNT OF ASYLUM

Some years ago Mr. Pitt submitted several excellent proposals to amend the Poor Laws. They struck me forcibly as being useful, sensible and moral. They were aimed so as to give the poor occupation in their homesteads, instead of dragging them to the workhouse. This was a generous idea, worthy of the great mind that conceived it, unhappily it was never carried into effect.

Since my first visit to Chaillot I have had excellent accounts of the progress of the institution. The First Consul pays thirty subscriptions and has founded several places in the establishment and confided the superintendence of them to the Archbishop of Paris, an aged and respectable man, who from his own experience of misfortune will be able to select such unfortunate persons as deserve no longer to remain so.

The Archbishop, accompanied by a number of his clergy, thought proper to visit Chaillot before making any nominations. He was delighted with the beauty of the situation, the purity of the air, the neatness, order and decorum which prevailed. When dinner was on the table eighty-seven aged persons of both sexes appeared, with countenances expressive of the greatest happiness and satisfaction; many of them declaring they felt as much at their ease as when in their own families.

The Archbishop at first imagined he was the eldest person present, but it was found on examination that many had the advantage of him in years.

He was so sensibly affected by this serene spectacle, that he expressed his regret that he had not before been made acquainted with this asylum. For in that case the First Consul must have forced him out of it, to have raised him to his Episcopal See of Paris.

The indispensable condition of acquiring the right of admission is to take a subscription. The rules are that every subscriber pays from the age of ten till thirty years of age, tenpence or a franc a month. Fifteen pence per month from thirty to fifty—twenty pence or two francs a month from fifty to seventy years of age. These different payments amount in their entirety to £45, which must be completely paid before a person can acquire the right of admission. Hence if any one more than ten years of age should offer as a subscriber, he or she must deposit at the time of subscription and according to his or her age, the sum which would have been advanced, had the subscriptions commenced at ten. In order to give encouragement to benevolence, all persons who may be disposed to subscribe, may transfer their right to as many persons as they have made subscriptions on condition that the person to be benefited by the transfer shall not be admitted until the £45 be paid in its entirety. The funds are placed on securities and subjected to an administration which is in every respect safe and undeniable.

XVI
GARDEN OF PLANTS. GALLERY OF NATURAL HISTORY. PHILOSOPHICAL LECTURES

We had heard so much of the Jardin des Plantes that we became impatient to see it. Our friend De la Metherie procured us an admission on a day the place is closed to the public, to give us a better and more convenient opportunity of examining its contents.

We made up a small party, the two ladies and Monsieur de la Metherie went in one carriage, and M. ——, the late President of the Cis Alpine Republic, and myself in another. I have already mentioned, and it cannot be too often repeated, that the French greatly surpass our country in the arts of decoration. Of this truth we found a striking proof in the classification of the subjects of Natural History and the superb embellishments of the gallery.

GALLERY OF NATURAL HISTORY

When we first entered this gallery we saw merely large green curtains extending from one end to the other of the hall. But in less than two minutes we were most agreeably surprised by a display of beauty, richness and grandeur of which no pen can do sufficient justice.

The attendants withdrew the curtains, a blaze of creative glory dazzled our sight, and in this moment of admiration I could not refrain from whispering to the philosopher from whom I had before received several lessons on the different degrees of French Atheism: “There is a God!” He smiled and returned for answer that I was evidently in an ecstasy.

Before I relate the various dispositions of the museum, I will give an account of the impressions which the whole excited in our minds. All the variegated productions of Nature were before our eyes; and the perilous researches of the most adventurous circumnavigators and natural historians submitted to our examination. Whatever is great and wonderful in the operations of Providence, whatever has been discovered in regions so far explored by man, we had an opportunity of seeing.

The quadrupeds form a distinct compartment and the whole collection of other animals, together with fossils, shells, minerals and stones, is disposed in glass cases, extending from the top of the gallery to the floor. There is also a compartment allotted to esculent roots and specimens of trees. On the right hand stands the albatross, which has been so beautifully described in Captain Cook’s voyages; next the maimed bird which has no wings and lives entirely on the water. It has an immense cylindrical body, behind which are fixed what may be called two oars instead of feet. The body is covered by a species of hard down, having the appearance of close-shaved hair, shooting out in small shining tubes and forming a coat of mail impervious to the water.[3] Then follow the crane, the swan, the heron, the ibis, the ostrich, the pelican, &c.

It is not my intention to give an account of every animal we saw, much less to mention all their names; for, in the first place, it would be attempting a subject on which I am ashamed to confess my ignorance, and, in the second, would occupy a volume. I only wish to notice singularities. Amongst these was the largest and most beautiful bird I ever beheld. The body, completely white, the wings tinged with a gold colour.[4] I am still unacquainted with its name, as no one could inform us to what species it belonged; but I mention it on account of the following anecdote, which conveys a forcible impression in a few words.

“Where did this bird come from?” said one of our party.

“We borrowed it from the Stadtholder,” replied the attendant; adding, “and if he had not lent it, we should have taken it.”

In the same way they obtained possession of the head of a petrified crocodile, which was originally found in a quarry in the neighbourhood of Maestricht. It belonged to one of the priests who resided in that town; and as his house was known to be situated near the ramparts, and the French Natural Philosophers had long coveted this head, orders were issued at the time of the siege that the house containing the crocodile’s head should not be bombarded. Professor Thouin[1] was at that time with the French Army, and wrote to his colleagues: “Le siége de Maestricht se pousse avec vigueur; dans deux jours je compte faire partir pour Paris la tête du crocodile.”

The French Army entered Maestricht, and the poor priest was stripped of his treasure for the benefit of the Great Nation.

The collection of caterpillars, butterflies and insects surpasses anything of the kind I ever saw. The library is composed of a choice and rare collection of books in every language upon subjects of natural history. M. Tuscan, the librarian, obligingly displayed to us some admirable paintings of plants. Mrs. Cosway, who was of our party, and is an exquisite artist herself, pronounced them very beautiful, and executed in a masterly style. The number of books in the library is about 8000, which is a noble library upon one science, the very nature of which requires costly publications on account of the infinite number as well as the richness of the drawings and the plates.

LIVING ZOOLOGICAL COLLECTION

After having amused ourselves with all the different compartments, we proceeded to the garden and paid a visit to the living beasts in the menagerie. These are dispersed in various districts of the enclosure, and with as much regard as possible to their original mode of life.

An enormous elephant enjoys a courtyard to himself, and his keeper is an Englishman named Thompson. The animal is very docile, and has been taught to play at what we call Bob Cherry with pieces of bread. Nothing can be more ridiculous, except the idea of a lion catching flies.

Camels and dromedaries are allowed to posture under the trees, and the stags and deer distributed in the field beside the river. All the tame animals are placed within a large grass enclosure. The savage beasts and birds kept in cages so small that the poor creatures can hardly turn themselves, in consequence of which, together with the wretched food, many have perished, and none of the survivors are in good condition. There are three bears, several wolves, leopards and tigers, one hyaena, a fox, a cockatoo, an hedgehog, a vulture, a cassowary, and a number of other fierce birds stolen from the menagerie of the Stadtholder of Holland. There are also a number of monkeys.

Upon the whole this collection is very insignificant and compares very badly with Pidcocks Exhibition, over Exeter Change. The lions and one of the elephants are dead. Most of these animals were transported to Paris from the Royal Menagerie at Versailles, but in order to increase the effect of the scene, it was decreed by Governmental order that those wild animals which were exhibited about the country at fairs, should be put into a state of requisition in order to add to the savage population of the garden. Cossal (the Parisian Pidcock), who had made a valuable collection of rare animals which he sent about the country to public shows, was robbed of all of them and to indemnify him in some manner for his ruin, made Warden of the National Menagerie at a small salary.

He was not the only sufferer in conformity with the political principle of the Revolution, that individual property must ever be ready as a sacrifice to the Nation, every man who led about a dancing bear in the street or a monkey, playing his tricks on the back of a dromedary, was obliged to lay aside his flageolet and tambourine and conduct his Bruin, his camel or his ape, to replenish the national stock. The two elephants were borrowed from the Stadtholder, they came originally from Ceylon, whence they were sent to Holland, where they had remained fourteen years. The mode of transporting them was the subject of very grave discussion among the philosophers of Paris. It was first proposed to march them from Holland to Paris and to throw temporary wooden bridges over the canals, to facilitate their passage but on account of their aversion to water this sapient scheme was abandoned. A caravan was now constructed mounted on wheels, in order to drag the ponderous brutes along and in order to accustom them to their movable dwelling, they were never to be fed except in their travelling carriages. On the day of their departure, the elephants were driven into their conveyance and the keeper bolted the door. The moment the procession started, the male elephant gave the door a gentle tap with his head, which instantly shivered the panel to pieces, and the continent of organised matter marched out with the greatest ease. By separating the male and the female they at length succeeded in conveying these vast creatures to Paris. Thompson, the keeper, assured me that when the elephants met again in the garden, after their long journey, the air resounded with their cries and their eyes were bedewed with tears. The French had never seen an elephant in their country since the middle of the seventeenth century, when, in 1668, the King of Portugal presented one (which only survived thirteen years) to Louis XIV.

THE AMPHITHEATRE

Upon inquiry I learnt that the greater part of the curiosities collected in this place were the fruits of victorious pillage, and I was told that this measure was justified by the right of conquest. “Par suite de la conquête de la Hollande, ils sont tombés au pouvoir des Français—nous les avons emportés comme trophées de nos victoires. Ainsi Alexandre le Grand fit passer dans la Grèce les éléphans du Roi de Perse.”

The amphitheatre is a public building, within this garden, where lectures are given by professors, nominated and paid by the Government.

I attended the chemical lecture of Fourcroy; he delivers himself with purity, eloquence and cleverness. He exercises (what would be deemed extraordinary in any country but this) the two functions of a public lecturer on science and a Counsellor of State, in which latter capacity he often discusses political measures before the Legislative Body. All the benches of the amphitheatre are in a semicircular form, rising one above the other, and capable of containing 2000 persons. The lecturer is stationed at the bottom, with a large table and apparatus before him.

There is no doubt students in chemistry derive advantages from those lectures, but much of their good effect is impaired by the amphitheatre being considered a fashionable lounge for the idle and a favourite place of “rencontre” between the fair Parisian and her lover. The women constitute a distinguished part of the auditory, and in number and noise are not inferior to the males.

There are thirteen professors in this institution, whereof seven are members of the French “Académie,” or Institut, and one an Associate. Fourcroy, Professor of Chemistry; Desfontaines, Botany; Lamark, Zoology; Thonin, Gardening; and Vanspaendorick, of Ichnography, have each a pleasant dwelling, free of expense, in the garden. In the centre of the garden and near a pool of water, is a small hamlet, where philosophical students and the curious may entertain themselves on girls and burgundy, of a wretched quality and at a trifling expense. I am at a loss to explain how the sage superintendent of his museum should have licensed the existence of his hovel, devoted to disreputable practices, in the sequestered bowers of Acadème. Unless it be meant as a practical illustration of the moral tendency of Darwin’s Loves of the Plants—a work greatly admired here. The Botanical Garden, itself, fell very far short of my expectations; it is neither well laid out nor pleasing to the eye.

The garden is about 2000 feet long and 700 wide, divided into three alleys, terminating in the public walks.

Henry IV. was the first who established a Botanical Garden in France. He authorised John Robin to rear in a private garden some plants several navigators had brought from America. It was his intention to have had this garden in Paris, but he was persuaded that these exotics would flourish better in the southern part of France; in consequence, Montpellier was preferred, and a physician appointed in 1598 to superintend the enterprise. But Gui la Brosse[1] persuaded Louis XIII. some twenty years later of the inconvenience of this arrangement, and an edict was issued for the establishment of the present “Jardin des Plantes.” By la Brosse’s exertions two thousand plants were placed in it, in the space of ten years.

The Government then numbered three professors to make known their properties and virtues and an exhibitor to display them.

The Garden was, in course of time, greatly enlarged and beautified, but its most rapid progress was during the reign of the late unfortunate Louis XVI.

REMINISCENCES OF THE TERROR

On the left of the Museum is a plantation of trees and shrubs, called “The Labyrinth.” The greatest part of the trees are ever-green, and there is a noble cedar of Lebanon. It was brought from England and planted by the famous Bertrand de Sussien[1] in the year 1734; beneath its shades stands a pedestal, formerly supporting the bust of Linnæus,[1] which was destroyed by the revolutionists under the notion it represented an aristocrat. From the top of the Labyrinth there is a very extensive view of Paris from a tower, which M. de la Metherie[1] and myself ascended, the ladies and S—— having returned home. Here, while we were looking at the city, M. de la Metherie pointed to a large building, not far distant, and desired me to look at the third window upon the second floor—he further remarked, “I was imprisoned there.” Confounded for the moment by this observation (for I had never understood the ruffians had meddled with him), I could not help laughing, and he joined heartily in my merriment. But two persons standing near, who, though wearing lay attire, were evidently priests, turned round and addressed us with much agitation. “This is not a laughing matter; what honest man has not been imprisoned in this land of scélérats?” This observation restored our gravity, and I said to one of them: “I hope, sir, you have not been a sufferer?” To which he abruptly replied: “I was imprisoned five times and sentenced to the guillotine. My life, however, was spared, and, by way of compensation for my sufferings, they took all my property from me!” De la Metherie introduced me, saying, “Monsieur est Anglais.” Upon this they took off hats, and the speaker remarked: “Vous avez raison, monsieur, de vous vous moquer de la France!”

We requested him to oblige us with his history. He said he lived formerly in Bordeaux and possessed considerable property in that neighbourhood. He had been arrested and confined in the prison of that city, together with a multitude of persons of both sexes. The only accusation against him was, that being a priest, he must necessarily be an aristocrat. He explained that he had not exercised sacerdotal functions since the Decree of the National Convention, and that his whole and sole pursuit was the science of Botany—“Botany!” exclaimed the Judge and President of the Court—“c’est une science royale!—it abounds with aristocratic terms, was the favourite diversion of Kings and Princes, and is of no use to a Republic—your attachment to this study clearly proves your hankering after the old régime, and convicts you!” He was hurried off to prison and close confinement at once. However, he escaped destruction, and recovered his liberty by paying a large sum of money as a bribe for his release. He returned with joy to the house of a friend, and was just sitting down to dinner when an officer of the Municipality entered the apartment, stating he had come to arrest him. He acquainted the officer with the fact that he had only two hours before been released by an arrêt of the Municipality. “I know that perfectly well,” was the reply; “you were dismissed upon the charge laid against you, but since then another serious charge has been established against you, by Citizen Tallien,[1] and I am ordered to arrest you on suspicion of being suspected!!!” There was no resisting the dreadful name of Tallien, and the unhappy priest was reconducted to his former cage. As the name of Tallien was mentioned, I interrupted the conversation to ask whether the atrocities said to have been committed at Bordeaux by Tallien and Lequino were not greatly exaggerated. He answered “Unhappily those enormities could hardly be exaggerated, for there was scarcely a family in that city and district which did not mourn the murder of a relative or friend.” The butcheries of Tallien were perpetrated chiefly in the streets and on the scaffold. He often took large sums of money from the persons, upon condition of releasing them, and the next day they were sure to be guillotined. This removal from the prison to the scaffold Tallien, in his merry moods, used to call a Republican release in full of all demands. Lequino[1] was never suspected of having realised money in this manner, he confined his little peculations to the public revenues. But his brutal and ferocious nature exercised itself within as well as without the walls of the prisons, by frequently shooting at the prisoners with pistols and killing them without any discrimination. He dined almost daily with the public executioners.

PERSECUTED PRIEST AND PHILOSOPHER

But to continue—after a long confinement, the priest was brought to a trial with a number of other persons, and charged with conspiring against the Republic. He and they were all found guilty and condemned to public execution. But at that moment a courier arrived with news of the fall and death of Robespierre, and orders to suspend all carnage until further directions from the Committee of Public Safety.

“What evidence was adduced against you?” I asked.

“None, save that I was a ci-devant minister of religion.”

“You have suffered,” said I, “because you were a priest; and here,” pointing to de la Metherie, “is one who has suffered because he was a philosopher.”

In the progress of the fiery Revolution, the different Governments of France must have been inspired by the spirit of a merry devil, for if such charges were sufficient to deprive a man of his liberty nine-tenths of the French people ought to have been locked up. But although de la Metherie was in no way interested in politics, he was suspected of being a suspicious man. When the ruling power wished to criminate or murder a man, every circumstance of his life from infancy was raked up and passed under review, and therefore no accused individual could hope to escape if his destruction was decided upon.

The accusation against this philosopher was that of coolness, indifference and incivism, because, amidst the noise of arms and domestic slaughter, he continued to cultivate in the sequestered shade of private life, the philosophy of nature.

By a miracle he escaped—the fall of the tyrant Robespierre calmed the fury of the Terror, and de la Metherie was more fortunate than Lavoisier[1]—after a few months’ rigorous confinement he was released from his prison. He was permitted to return to his house, the seals were taken off his library, his beautiful collections of plants and minerals, and his manuscripts. The Journal de Physique, which he had edited for above twenty years, again shone forth in all its wonted splendour.

Monsieur de la Metherie assured me that during the time of the Revolutionary Tribunals, it was in serious contemplation to reduce the population of France to 14,000,000. Dubois Crouée[1] was a very distinguished and enthusiastic partisan of this humane and philosophical policy.

One of the most horrible and affecting anecdotes I ever heard related to a young married lady of rank and beauty, whose husband was immured in the same prison cell with de la Metherie. After having solicited one Bureau, petitioned another, and bribed a third in vain to obtain her husband’s liberty, she applied in person to the representative of the people, by whose influence her husband had been arrested. The hypocritical assassin returned her supplications with scorn. At length after many entreaties he informed her that there was one way in which she might obtain her husband’s liberty. Anxious to save his life, the distracted female sacrificed her honour to the brutal lust of this deputy of the National Convention. On the next day, when she went to the prison to bring to her husband the joyful news of his impending delivery, she found him bound and seated in the cart, which a moment later carried him to the place of execution. Frantic with rage and despair, and shuddering with horror at the unavailing sacrifice she had made of her chastity, the hapless young woman rushed into the presence of her betrayer and severely rebuked him for his perfidy; in return for which he caused her to be arrested, and she was guillotined upon the following day.

XVII
THE ARSENAL. SITE OF THE BASTILLE. FAUBOURG STE. ANTOINE. THE DONJON DE VINCENNES. SHORT ACCOUNT OF FRANÇOIS DE NEUFCHÂTEAU. THE TEMPLE

THE ARSENAL

My principal object in going beyond the Bois des Vincennes was to examine the agricultural dispositions and the improved plough of François de Neufchâteau,[1] who has obtained a considerable celebrity in France for the great encouragement he, when Minister of the Interior, afforded to husbandry.

In this excursion we were accompanied by two men of very different political characters. Monsieur P——, an avowed Royalist, and Monsieur Dumond,[1] a moderate Republican. The former is distinguished for his dramatic writings and by a very ingenious mode he has invented to enable foreigners to pronounce French correctly without the aid of an instructor. Monsieur Dumond is what we should call a gentleman farmer—and has a large establishment at Epluches, near Pontoise, where he makes an annual exhibition of sheep reared upon his own estate. He possesses excellent stock and great skill in this branch of rural economy. We promised ourselves great pleasure from the political battle I was determined they should wage, and the instructive conversation of M. Dumond upon farming and agricultural subjects.

After traversing the city in an easterly direction we alighted at the Arsenal. This place was gutted at the outbreak of the Revolution to supply arms to the sovereign people. It has never since been replenished.

There are, however, still some considerable quantity of arms in it, but I observed nothing particularly deserving of notice. The Bastille, so famous in the early history of the Revolution, from having been the first fortress over which the triumphant banner of the people waved, is now no more. But the gardens, the “fosse,” and part of the wall remain. The site of the Bastille, which the French vainly flattered themselves would become their Runnymede, is instead a lasting monument of their unfitness to be free—for it is impossible to walk over these ruins without despising a race of men who, in a paroxysm of jealousy, pulled down an ancient fortress for the sake of liberty, and twelve years later suffered their whole country to be converted into a vast prison where free speech and a free press are not tolerated.

From the site of the Bastille we proceeded along the Faubourg St. Antoine, now the cleanest and most unfrequented part of Paris. What a melancholy silence now reigns in that place! Who would suppose that this district of Paris was formerly the focus of intrigue and its inhabitants the successive instruments of every ambitious adventurer—of an Orleans, a Robespierre,[1] a Marat and a Babœuf?[1] In the days of the Convention this was the arsenal of blood and murder, here pikes were forged and poignards sharpened, and from hence an armed banditti issued to execute the bloody mandate of demagogues. But now no spirit-stirring drum is heard, no uplifted bleeding heads are carried as standards by butchering battalions. Santerre himself scarce dare show his face, and the whole Jacobin colony has been disarmed, and by a little thing from Corsica, who, acting as lieutenant to Barras in 1794, commenced his military operations against the liberties of France by a triumph over the fanatics of this Faubourg. The pikemen stand in awe of the heroes of Lodi and Marengo, who surround the palace of the usurper. Santerre, it is true, often murmurs vengeance, but the Government either laugh at this consequential man of no consequence or treat him with the most perfect contempt. He had an interview with Bonaparte soon after the latter became First Consul and was received with civility and attention, but the Consular Guard was not then formed, and Santerre might still be useful. Bonaparte, who must have heard that at the first fire of the Vendéans upon the Parisian Guard, Santerre actually ran away, said: “I think, general, you made war in La Vendée.” “Oui, général,” replied the brewer, “avec beaucoup d’éclat.” The Corsican grinned a smile, and Santerre withdrew, and boasted after the interview “that Bonaparte had treated him with proper consideration and acknowledged his great services in La Vendée.”

VINCENNES

The famous donjon de Vincennes is situated close by the public road, in the middle of a wood, and was in ancient times a royal castle, where State prisoners were confined. Since the Revolution it has been converted into a common jail—at present it is reserved entirely for deserters and runaway conscripts. We found about 600 of these in confinement. They were walking in the courtyard, and seemed extremely sorrowful and dejected.

We were not permitted to enter the Gothic tower, which is the finest part of The building; but if we may form an estimate of the interior by the exterior, the state prisoners formerly lodged there must have drawn out a wretched existence—yet here were confined the great Condé and the celebrated Mirabeau.

The attraction of this fortress is its antiquity. Draw-bridges, battlements, covered galleries and fosses display the ancient mode of defence. Some companies of infantry and a troop of horse are in barracks within the walls. After having sufficiently gratified our curiosity we continued our route, and the name of Mirabeau being mentioned I thought a favourable opportunity had arrived for us to enjoy our French companions.

The project succeeded, and the Revolution was furiously discussed from the time of Mirabeau to the present hour. I asked M. Dumond (the Republican) what was now the pay to the different ranks of general? M. P—— (the Royalist) answered before his friend had time to reply: “Nothing, we allow them to thrive and take what they please.” This unexpected answer produced a good laugh, in which M. Dumond joined. Some days after, happening to be in company with a celebrated general, as honest as it is possible for a modern French general to be, I asked him whether it was true that the Republican generals received no salary from the State, but were at liberty to take what they pleased, he answered: “You have been misinformed. The French generals are well paid; but as they are fond of good living and their expenses are great, they naturally make some provision for themselves out of the contributions of conquered countries.” This reply fully confirmed M. P——’s assertion.

At the extremity of the Bois de Vincennes in a hollow stands the Château of Monsieur François. All the country hereabouts is in a fine state of cultivation, the fruits exquisite, and the wine from the vineyards is highly esteemed in Paris.

Monsieur François de Neufchâteau’s house is of moderate size, the gardens large and well disposed. The barns and other out-houses make a respectable appearance, but I perceive none of the animals essential to husbandry or a thrifty farmyard. Most of the ground we went over had been sown. I perceived, however, no grass or meadow land. The French are an age behind us in this branch of agriculture. All the arable land was well cleared and showed care and attention had been bestowed upon it. But I saw no yards, either near or distant to the house, for raising poultry or pigs, &c., which constitute no small proportion of the wealth of a well-managed farm.

After we had sufficiently viewed the general distribution of the grounds, we examined the improved drill plough, to inspect which had been the principal object of our journey. But I discovered not a single property in it which is not already known to the English agriculturist.

FRANÇOIS DE NEUFCHÂTEAU

Perhaps I am wrong in thus entering into the particulars of a farm which, though in a very satisfactory state, promises to be much better when the owner’s attention can be spared upon it. The house has not long been in the possession of its present proprietor. There are only two bedrooms furnished and not one sitting-room, though there is an excellent library, containing many beautiful editions of the most celebrated works.

The gallery upon the first floor contains some interesting plans and drawings of canals and other public works of France, conceived, executed or repaired when M. de Neufchâteau was Minister of the Interior.

Monsieur Nicholas François, for that is his real and only proper name, was born at the village of Neufchâteau, where he married a woman like himself of humble parentage, and endeavoured to live by writing poetry and scribbling nonsensical verses.

He is the first instance in the history of nations of a poet who exchanged his tattered garments for the mantle of a chief magistrate. M. François being cast upon the surface of the revolutionary cauldron, contributed his humble mite in the holy work of human regeneration, under a variety of Protean shapes, sometimes as a punster in the public journals, at other times by striking off a few calembours and diatribes and then by some fine-spun antitheses, and next by fulsome adulations heaped on the great scoundrels who have successively disturbed the peace of France and of mankind. M. François contrived to at length receive the reward of his indefatigable labours, in the appointment to the very arduous and important functions of Minister of the Interior to the French Revolution.

No sooner had he begun to figure upon the revolutionary stage, over which was inscribed Liberty, Equality, Abolition of Titles and Privileged Caste, than he assumed the feudal name of François de Neufchâteau, a name to which under the old régime he would have no more pretensions than the political adventurer who now rules France would have to that of Bonaparte of Ajaccio.

Another instance of his philosophic mind was shown at the same time. He discarded his virtuous wife, the humble companion of his adverse fortunes, as unworthy to share in the splendour of his new situation, and a handsome and elegant woman was introduced in her stead as mistress of his mansion, and she still continues to fill in the midst of plenty and opulence the place of a legitimate wife now driven to want and wretchedness.

But these are trifles in Paris at the present day, and Monsieur François de Neufchâteau passes for a mild, amiable and virtuous man.

Of the administration of this man I shall have much to say in a future letter, he certainly contributed towards the establishment of many salutary institutions in the Republic, i.e., he revived such of the old government as were contented to promote the happiness and prosperity of France upon the return of a general peace.

I am the more astounded at this as from the conversation I had with him and from the relations made to me by those most intimately acquainted with him he appeared to be a man of weak, contemptible and superficial character. Nevertheless we find him in a short time seated upon the curule chair, and forming one of that junto of rapacious tyrants who under the name of the Executive Directory, by their imbecility, wickedness and crimes, prepared the way for the reign of the usurper who stole like a coward from Egypt to complete the misery of France. François, it appears, took no active part in the directorship, he was merely an empurpled pageant, whose sole occupation was to sign his name whenever ordered to do so by his more wily colleagues. At length finding his situation irksome he profited by an offer from his more ambitious partners and left the Government before the Government left him. In consideration of a douceur of a million livres, £40,000 sterling, he connived at a sham ballot by which he voluntarily blackballed himself from the further enjoyment of the executive magistracy.

VISIT TO THE TEMPLE

His conduct was fortunate as well as prudent. For when the Corsican made short work of the Directory, instead of being banished like Barras[1] or discarded like la Reveillère[1] and Leproux, we find him admitted into the new tyrant’s Senate and actively receiving at the present time £2000 a year sterling during his life for registering the edicts of his master. This annuity, together with his £40,000 indemnification money, and the little pickings he was able to secure during his Ministry, enable him to live in better style than ever before fell to the lot of a French rhymer, for he can now jingle cash as well as the words of the great nation.

This visit to M. François brought on a second engagement between ourselves and our two comrades, and we made an expedition the following day to the Temple, where the unhappy Louis XVI. and his family had been confined. The place is now greatly altered, indeed I should hardly have recognised it. All the surrounding buildings have been pulled down and a large opening formed which absolutely secludes it from all immediate communication with the city. It is impossible to obtain admission into this State prison—it is rigidly guarded within and without the walls. Persons are daily conveyed there by a lettre de cachet from the Grand Inquisitor Fouché, without any preliminary examination and often without the knowledge of their friends. This is the real history of those sudden disappearances of a number of persons, which the French journalists ascribe to robbers and assassins. A trial is never an absolute necessity in this land of liberty to establish innocence or guilt; hence the “Cayenne diligence” is always in readiness to take up such passengers as are not required to make a long stay in the Temple, which is the safest place of baiting between the Bureau of the Minister of Police and Rochefort.

It is not until the wretched victims are upon the eve of embarking upon the Salaminian vessel of state that they are permitted to disclose their fate to their relations and to announce their destination to the delectable regions of the most luxurious climate of Central America. Even this indulgence is however frequently denied to the hapless sufferers.

Yet the constant talk in France is of freedom and equality. It is impossible to live here without imbibing daily fresh causes of detestation and abhorrence of the laws and government of this unhappy country; and I already contemplate with pleasure the moment when I shall take an everlasting leave of France, a country which at one time I almost loved as well as I do my own.

XVIII
CELEBRATION OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL BONAPARTE’S CONCORDAT WITH THE POPE, AND OF THE GENERAL PEACE PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. ILLUMINATION OF PARIS

CONSULAR CEREMONIAL

We had not yet seen the tyrant. Hence we did not hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity offered us by the public exhibition of his personage on Easter Sunday. The ceremonial had been pompously announced in the Parisian Gazettes; and M. Chaptal, the Minister of the Interior, displayed great skill in making arrangements for giving a fine stage effect to the pious exhibition of the Church Militant. Bonaparte himself is also very clever at such work, and I have it on unquestionable authority that he himself actually arranged the plan of the procession, as well as that of the solemn farce acted afterwards in Nôtre Dame. A person with whom I am acquainted related to me a conversation he overheard between the First Consul and the various underlings who were to carry out his orders, a conversation which shows the little man can take as much interest in a puppet show as in a victory. When the leader of the orchestra waited upon him to mention the arrangements he had made for placing the music in front of the Consuls, Bonaparte desired him to change the position, for he was determined a battalion of soldiers should stand in front and behind. The conductor observed the effect of the music would be totally lost by this scheme; but the reply was, “N’importe, il me faut toujours des bataillons.” Another instance of his taking upon himself the business of stage manager was his order to Monsieur de Talleyrand that the latter should write to the different foreign Ambassadors and Ministers requesting that they would repair to the Palace of the Tuileries with four horses to their carriages, instead of two. All the foreign envoys, in consequence, clapped on an additional pair of animals, which should by right have been jackasses, to their coaches. The Consuls’ own Ministers also, not only drove four horses, but their domestics sported, by order, the same liveries—yellow turned up with red. Their carriages were ranged to the right of the door, exactly opposite the Ambassadors. Soon after arrived the Councillors of State, Senators, the Legislative Body, the Tribunats, the Prefets and the Generals in their respective costume. All this time the foreign Ministers were in a room below, called Salle des Ambassadeurs, waiting until his Highness should be graciously pleased to condescend to admit them to his presence. Count Cohentzel, the Austrian Minister, stood near the door in full view of the spectators. I could not refrain from a feeling of disgust and rage at beholding the representative of the once proud house of Austria standing like a suppliant upon the threshold of the Corsican adventurer.

The whole of the day’s exhibition was humiliating to every one concerned, save to Bonaparte and his satellites. After all the carriages were ranged in their places and the different regiments of horse and foot taken their positions in front of the Palace, a signal gun was fired, and a little thing leaped with uncommon agility upon the back of a white horse, superbly caparisoned, and set off at full trot along the line, followed by a numerous train of generals and aides-de-camp. Upon inquiry I learnt that the white horse was called Marengo, and its rider was Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France.

Nothing was now heard but trumpets and kettledrums, and the whole spectacle was certainly an imposing one; as Bonaparte passed along the officers saluted and the men presented arms. He never returned a single salute.

His dress was very plain but extremely neat, in the uniform of the Consular Guard—a blue coat, faced with white, gold epaulettes, white kerseymere breeches and waistcoat, a small hat with a tri-colour bow.

None of the portraits or engravings which I have seen in England purporting to resemble this man are exactly like him. The picture by Masquier, representing him on his return from reviewing the Consular Guard, though the best likeness we have, is nevertheless a feeble representation of what is one of the most penetrating and animated countenances in the world. The complexion of Bonaparte is sallow, his face oval and his chin long, his eyes are of a dark blue, so dark as to appear black at a distance, they are keen and piercing, long in form and sunk deeply in his head. His black hair is cut short and he wears no powder. His smile is sweet and fascinating, but his visage terrible when ruffled with anger. His voice deep-toned, rather coarse and disfigured by a provincial accent.[5] He looks extremely well on horseback, his carriage thereon remarkably erect, and not unlike that of a riding master or cavalry drill sergeant. The lineaments of his face bespeak a violent nature, it is marked with the expression of dark and unruly passions. Upon the whole I do not hesitate to acknowledge he possesses the most interesting countenance I ever beheld.

PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME

After the First Consul had reviewed his troops “au trot” he hastily dismounted, shot like an arrow into the Palace, and soon after the general procession to Nôtre Dame began to form, and commenced with the slow march of the infantry towards the Cathedral.

The cavalry followed and the foreign Ministers and Ministers of State. Madame Letitia Bonaparte,[1] the Consul’s mother, a truly good, respectable woman, and Madame Bonaparte,[1] the reigning Queen, with Madame Louis Bonaparte,[1] her daughter, proceeded by another route (not taking part in the procession). They occupied with their suite two splendid coaches and four, each horse led by a running footman in green and gold livery and escorted by a squadron of Hussars. The corps of Mamelukes, leading six beautiful chargers of the First Consul, each horse caparisoned to the tune of £2500, preceded the state coach, which contained the three Consuls, attired in their consular garb of scarlet velvet, embroidered with gold. These rulers were drawn by eight bay horses and followed by a regiment of Hussars. Discharges of artillery continued from their departure from the Palace till their arrival at the Cathedral Church of Paris.

Three chairs of state were placed in front of the altar for the Consuls, that of Bonaparte’s was advanced a little in front of the other two, and he drew it still further forward before he seated himself. He sat erect during the whole ceremony, except during the Consecration of the Host and Communion, when he stood. At the elevation of the Host he crossed himself with the most sanctified composure, using that same hand which in Egypt had signed his abjuration of the Christian faith. The Consul le Brun[1] sat on his right hand and Cambacères[1] on his left. When High Mass was over, the Bishops approached in turn to take the oath of allegiance: as each mitred apostle knelt before Bonaparte he gave a gentle nod; but one poor old prelate, almost blind by age and too weak to kneel, having by mistake, directed his obeisance to Cambacères, the First Consul gave such a frown that the poor old man was almost terrified out of his wits.

To form a just idea of the feelings of those present one must remember that the greater part of the company consisted of the Senate, the Corps Législatif, the Tribunalate and the Generals, nearly all of whom had been or were avowed atheists, notorious for murders, thefts and atrocities they had perpetrated, while the Chief Magistrate had a few years earlier worshipped at the altar of atheism in Paris and embraced the religion of Mahomet in Africa. These persons were now assembled together to adore a God in whom they had no faith and to propose a religion they despised merely that they might be enabled to preserve their authority over the people and retain their lucrative places and appointments. To my mind this is an occurrence in the history of pious fraud only equalled by the action of Judas Iscariot.

I may safely affirm that with exception of the Bishops and clergy, there was not a single official personage in the church who quitted this religious mockery with a sentiment of piety in his heart, nor one who did not perfectly see through the whole object of the ceremony.

When the bowing, kneeling and swearing were ended the First Consul and his two scarlet supporters departed. Fresh discharges of cannons accompanied their return journey to the Tuileries.

The opinion entertained by the people of this day of ceremony was that of indignation, mixed with contemptuous ridicule.

In the evening Madame Bonaparte gave a grand rout to the ladies of the constituted authorities, and the city was illuminated. The illuminations were poor indeed, a few farthing rushlights stuck in paper lanterns hung out from every third or fourth house in the streets, and were called general illuminations, and even of those the greater part was put out by the wind. The Palace of the Tuileries was handsomely illuminated à la chinoise with variegated lamps. Cambacères, the Second Consul, also illuminated his house with great taste and splendour.

THEATRE OF OPERA BUFFA

Vast numbers of people filled the streets and walks—great decorum and sobriety were everywhere observed, a circumstance which practically always distinguishes Frenchmen on such occasions.

In the midst of all these pompous festivities the minds of the people are still greatly divided respecting the future. They are gratified by the return of peace—but they are suspicious of its continuation. To this may be added the general apprehension of some fresh changes in France, from the restless character of its present ruler, and his disposition to interfere in the internal economy of other States.

XIX
THEATRES. OPERA BUFFA. CORONATION OF PAESIELLO

The theatres of Paris at the present time display such gross acts of licentiousness among the spectators and such obscene dialogue on the stage, that it is impossible to accompany a modest woman to most of them. To those where the rules of decency were observed, our ladies went, and the Opera Buffa was one of the few where we could resort with comfort and convenience.

This theatre is in the Rue de la Victoire, and here one could listen to the charming music of Cimarosa, Martinelli and Paesiello.[1] This last composer has attained an immense success by a piece, called Zingari in Flora, which attracts crowded houses. On the third night of its representation Paesiello himself, just arrived from Naples, made his appearance in the box next the stage, opposite the one in which the First Consul, his wife, Louis Bonaparte and his wife, ci-devant Mdlle. Beauharnais, and the lady of Joseph Bonaparte were sitting.

The instant Paesiello was recognised, he was saluted with loud and repeated applause, and all the spectators stood up to pay their respects to the genius who had so often charmed them by his powers of composition. A lady then stepped into his box, and placed a crown of laurel on his head, the plaudits then redoubled, while Bonaparte passed his hand over his own forehead as an indication of what was uppermost in his mind. He condescended to notice Paesiello, and signified by a movement of his head that he participated in the general sentiment of approbation.

The respect paid to the composer by the band of musicians was remarkable. They all rose at his entrance, turned towards him, and retained this position during the rest of the evening. Great decorum and good conduct are maintained in every part of this theatre, and even behind the scenes. Sentinels are planted, not only behind the curtain to preserve order, but plenty of them are stationed in every part of the house, boxes, pit and gallery. Their conduct is exemplary. The spectators, at this the best of the Paris theatres, behave themselves with infinitely more propriety than the audiences at Drury Lane and Covent Garden. The Cyprian corps also set an example of orderly conduct, which their frail sisters in the fashionable London resorts would do well to follow.

On the night of Paesiello’s coronation we were so extremely fortunate as to obtain a box nearly opposite to that occupied by the First Consul and his relatives, and we remarked that Madame Bonaparte, her daughter, and Madame Joseph Bonaparte were the only French women in the theatre whose dress was modest as well as elegant. I was peculiarly gratified to observe this circumstance, because, when the force of example is considered, these persons may be enabled, owing to their distinguished positions, to do much to check the mauvais goût in the fashionable Parisian toilettes of to-day.

The three distinguished ladies sat in front of the box, and were attired much as would be a respectable English woman of the upper classes wearing evening dress.

Mesdames Napoleon, Louis and Joseph, wore fine diamond necklaces and drop earrings.

A REVIEW AT THE TUILERIES

Behind them, with his back to the audience, sat the First Consul, who conversed during the whole evening with his step-son, young Beauharnais.

During the whole evening Bonaparte never exchanged a syllable with the female members of his party, and when the play was over he darted from his seat and departed by a side entrance, leaving his family to be conducted from the theatre by their attendants.

XX
REVIEW OF THE CONSULAR GUARD. CONVERSATION WITH ONE OF THE HEADS OF THE REPUBLIC, RESPECTING BONAPARTE

I wish to describe a grand review of the Consular Guard, which took place on the Place du Carrousel, at this very Easter-tide—a review of which so much has been said all over Europe. It is really nothing more nor less than a parade, for not a single evolution is made. Indeed, if it were wished to make an evolution the size and situation of the Place du Carrousel would not admit it.

The order in which the troops are disposed shows the impossibility of manœuvring them, for the place in which 6000 men, horse and foot, besides artillery, are collected, is not so large as our Horse Guards Parade at Whitehall.

The review really consists in the First Consul, his generals, his aides-de-camp and his Mamelukes, trotting very fast through the lines. He then takes his station in front of the gates of the Tuileries, and the troops pass him in quick time, afterwards filing off to their respective quarters.

In order that I may give a clear idea of this military show, I will briefly state the order in which the troops take their positions and move from the ground.

A battalion of Grenadiers, with their band, is stationed from the left corner of the Tuileries to the Palace door, from the right corner to the same door is another battalion of Grenadiers, called the Column of Granite, because at the battle of Marengo, “firm as adamant,” they withstood the charges of Austrian cavalry. About sixteen paces in front the first line commences with a battalion of Invalids, without a band or even pipes, having only half a dozen drums attached to it. Next to these are two battalions composed of select troops from the line. An intervening space of thirty-six paces here occurs, when another line of infantry, composed of two heavy battalions without music, extend along the whole area. Behind these are two regiments of Hussars. A little on their side at the right two troops of flying Artillery, and then the famous regiment of Guides, commanded by Eugène de Beauharnais[1] (the Consul’s step-son) surnamed the Casse Cous, because they are said neither to give nor receive quarter. Opposite this corps, at the other extremity of the lines and under the Gallery of the Louvre, stands the corps of Mamelukes—they retain their national costume, and every means is employed to attach them to the interests of the French people—which they are made to believe are identical with those of their Mussulman Caliph.

Three generals of division commanded the Consular troops under Bonaparte, who reserves to himself the chief command.

As soon as the First Consul had mounted Marengo, the drums beat a tattoo, and the men shouldered arms.

BONAPARTE

Preceded by several Mamelukes and four aides-de-camp in superb Hussar uniforms, he rode at full trot through the lines. When he returned to the centre a detachment from an Artillery corps, now serving in Italy, marched up to the Consul to receive their standard. It was held by a sergeant. The Consul made them a short speech, ordering them to swear they would rather die than abandon it. The infantry guard then passed before the Consul, beginning with the battalion of Invalids and ending with the Column of Granite, then came the Flying Artillery, the regiments of Horse, and, last of all, the regiment of Guides, beyond comparison the finest corps, whether for men or horses, I ever beheld, their Colonel, Beauharnais, being the handsomest young man amongst them. This regiment is dressed in green, as Hussars, and wheeled with uncommon precision and velocity. The Column of Granite was the only battalion which seemed to pay any attention to distance or time; its sections wheeled and performed like a piece of machinery, but all the other battalions were remarkably deficient in this branch of discipline. I remarked to a French general upon the slovenly manner in which those battalions wheeled; he nodded assent to the observation, remarking shrewdly and wisely: “It is of no matter of consequence, they know how to fight.”

As soon as the last section had passed, the Consul, who seemed to be in a very ill-humour, rode to the door of the Palace, dismounted and disappeared. He was not in a general’s uniform, but wore the same dress as that in which he appeared on the morning of the procession to Nôtre Dame.

Upon the whole, I cannot say that this review answered my expectations. The troops were tall and well-clothed. The cavalry were magnificently mounted, and made a noble appearance, but still the tout ensemble did not excite my admiration to a very great extent.

While Bonaparte was passing the lines, one of my acquaintance exultingly turned to me and said: “Voilà le maître de la terre!” Several English gentlemen, who were not very distant from me, made themselves conspicuous by their ecstatic exclamations of adulation towards Bonaparte, one of them, a person of rank and fortune, bawling out loud enough to be heard by fifty people, “By G—d! this man deserves to govern the world!”

On our return from the parade, we went into a large party of ladies and gentlemen, among whom were several members of the Government. One of them took me aside; he questioned me as to the state of feeling in England on the subject of the peace, and asked me whether I read with attention the English papers. Upon my answering in the affirmative, he remarked that though the liberty of the Press was an essential principle of our British Constitution, persons in foreign countries were often exposed to the highest and most malignant censures from its abuse. I now understood the drift of his conversation and observed that natives of England, as well as foreigners, frequently had to smart under the lash of the British Press and that no one had been more severely handled (on some occasions) than myself. I explained that we in England never noticed those things, unless by retorting upon our opponents through the medium of the Press. He then said with some hesitation: “I have excellent authority for saying that the First Consul is incensed beyond measure at the liberties taken with his character and government in the English papers.” “If that be all,” I replied, “his anger will not go down with the sun, for I may venture to promise him an unceasing fire from the British Press as long as he discloses an ambition that is fatal to the security of Europe.” “And to France,” he exclaimed. Then taking me by the arms, he said with great energy, “When, my dear friend, you return to England, animate every person concerned in the public journals to give him no quarter. It is only through the medium of your papers that we know our situation; the sound philosophy of your principles (meaning the English nation’s) will finally rescue France from slavery.” Having uttered these words under strong symptoms of agitation, he left the room.

ENGLISHMEN AND FIRST CONSUL

Thunderstruck and confounded at this unexpected termination of our discourse, I was for a moment at a loss what to think and how to act, when fortunately the ex-Director Barthélémi came up and asked whether I was pleased with the review. This made me recover my senses, and I was enabled to enter into genial conversation. I was introduced to Archbishop Faesh,[1] Bonaparte’s uncle; and to Visconti,[1] but the only news they communicated were the details of the operations in San Domingo, brought home by Jerome Bonaparte. We soon afterwards left the party. I conveyed the ladies back to the hotel, and then drove to the house of the person with whom I have been engaged in the conversation related above.

He received me with great consideration and politeness, and stated how happy he was to be able to confer with me alone, as it was not safe to enter into particular details in a mixed assembly. I agreed with him, and he immediately entered more fully into the subject.

He told me that there were at present in France several Englishmen employed by the First Consul to write against our Government and in support of his (Bonaparte’s) administration. That an Englishman named Joliffe was employed by Monsieur de Talleyrand to translate all the articles in our newspapers which had any reference to France, and that Talleyrand carried them to Bonaparte as regularly as he did his official despatches. He mentioned the names of several other Englishmen employed by the Consul for similar purposes, among whom were Messrs. Morgan, Stone and Dr. Watson.

The two objects he seemed extremely anxious to impress upon me were, first that the Government and person of Bonaparte ought to inspire us with extreme aversion, but secondly that we ought to abstain rigidly from involving ourselves in another war with him.

These points seemed rather paradoxical, and I asked how Great Britain would be compromised in case of a renewal of the war. To this he answered that 50,000 or 60,000 such military automatons as I had seen to-day were always ready to execute without reflection or care whatever orders the First Consul might issue. Then, again, the violent spirit of Bonaparte was greatly to be dreaded. In case of a war between England and France he would infallibly attack some of the weaker Powers of Europe under the pretext that they favoured our cause. Upon my expressing my astonishment that an enlightened nation should passively submit to a system of tyranny which they disapproved of, and that himself, who had so great an influence, together with many of his colleagues, were taking no steps to abridge the power of this Corsican, he observed with great feeling: “The Revolution was made for the people, but not by the people. The principles of philosophy upon which it was founded have been trampled under foot by the military, and under every form of our government they have been masters. Whoever got possession of the power of the sword ruled and rules the Republic. France is the prize of generals whom our folly has placed on too high an eminence.”

The conversation was next resumed on the dissatisfaction which the government of Bonaparte had occasioned throughout the Republic; and of my speaking favourably of the character, abilities and influence of Moreau,[1] he differed from me, and observed that General Moreau was a man of passive qualities, destitute of energy to undertake any grand political scheme. His chief employment consisted in reading all the military memoirs and books which had ever been written and playing with his pretty wife.

Upon the whole, after a conversation of about three hours, he ended the dialogue by observing that he was at a loss whether to think war or peace would be most favourable to the views of those who wished the destruction of Bonaparte. He urged me, however, on my return to England, that I should describe in the Press the horrible state of slavery to which “Le Petit Caporal” had reduced the French. After having solemnly enjoined me to be very guarded in my expressions during my stay in France, we took leave of each other. The sentiments I have detailed being those of a distinguished member of the Government, what must be those of the people?

XXI
VISIT TO DAVID. ACCOUNT OF HIS PAINTINGS.

DAVID’S STUDIO

We have just returned from passing a very agreeable evening at the apartments of David,[1] in the Louvre. It seemed strange to find myself under the roof of a man who actually signed a warrant for my arrest some years ago. But in this capital these are things of course, and it would have been quite natural in 1793 for me to dine with him, and he had sent me the same evening to prison and two days later to the guillotine. The fact is we were very desirous of seeing this man, both on account of his political character and his reputation as the first artist in France. We were received by Madame David and her two daughters with great politeness, and Citizen David comported himself as an human being.

I met in this society a number of intelligent and respectable characters, and had several opportunities of entering into conversation with Monsieur David. The names of several English and French artists were mentioned, but he never condescended to make an observation about them.

His lady frequently desired me to give my opinion of his celebrated picture of the Sabines, and she assured me it would be a good speculation to purchase it for exhibition in London. The price is £5000!

I have heard much of the character, public and private, of M. David, and it is but an act of justice to declare that amidst the most unfavourable circumstances that hover over his public life, I have not been able to trace any relative to his private reputation.

The picture of the Sabines, which is now publicly exhibited in the ancient Academy of Architecture, is considered by David as his masterpiece, and he grounds its character principally on the persons of Hersillia, Tatius and Romulus. Poussin has pencilled the Rape of the Sabine women, but David has chosen the sequel of the story at the moment when the Sabine women rush between the two hostile armies for the purpose of reconciling the Roman and Sabine soldiers.

The two chiefs, Romulus and Tatius, are about to engage in single combat, the former, while holding his uplifted javelin in his right hand, in the attitude of preparing to hurl at his antagonist, his left is concealed under a broad shield, which also covers the left part of his body; on his head he wears a splendid helmet, a shoulder-belt suspends his sword, and his feet are laced with sandals.

In every other respect he is painted stark naked. Tatius is displayed full to the view in puris naturalibus. He also wears not only a helmet and sandals, but carries a shield and a scarlet mantle buckled upon the breast, but so contrived as to exhibit his whole body in a state of nature.

Between these two figures stands Hersillia; she is robed in white à la grecque, in other words according to the present fashion. Her hair hangs dishevelled over her shoulders. At her feet lie her two naked infants. In the centre ground groups of Sabine women are seen, carrying their naked infants amidst heaps of dead and horses furious in combat. Others are placing their children at the feet of the soldiers of both armies, who struck with the sight ground their spears. The general of the horse sheathes his sword. Numbers of soldiers wave their helmets as a signal of peace. The walls of Rome form the background. These are all the circumstances connected with the picture. I must now give M. David’s vindication of the nakedness of his heroes.

DAVID’S STUDIO

“It was a received custom among the painters, statuaries and poets of antiquity to represent naked their gods, heroes, and in general all those whom they intended to illustrate. If they painted a philosopher, he was naked with a cloak over his shoulders and the attributes of his character; if a warrior, he was likewise naked except for a helmet on his head, a shield on his arm and sandals on his feet; sometimes they added drapery to give grace to the figure.”

Among the many paintings we had seen from his hand his “Horatii” is by far the most striking and most justly executed. Those which were hastily drawn for days of ceremonies, in order to be exposed in the open air, are on an immense scale and are not less horrible to the sight than the objects which they were designed to represent were terrific to the mind. He has also drawn the figure of Bonaparte on horseback, at the passage of S. Gothard, for which he received one thousand pounds.

But the picture which interested me most was the representation of the Deputies of the Tiers Etats assembled at Versailles while their President is reading the Declaration of the Rights of Man. The portraits of some of the members were astonishingly striking, particularly those of Mirabeau and Barnave; in most, however, Citizen David has failed in the correctness of his representations, especially in those of Siège and Grégoire.

The public character of David is well-known and held in general detestation. In the course of my conversation with him I once took a favourable opportunity of asking whether he recollected having signed a warrant for my arrest. To these questions he simply replied that it was impossible for him to recall to memory all the warrants of arrest which had been issued at the time he was a member of the Committee of General Vigilance; that hundreds were sometimes signed in one day, and that in the hurry of business, he had often put his name to warrants on the reports of his colleagues. I remarked that through this hurry of business a great deal of injustice had been committed.

This he frankly confessed, but defended the measures by the old plea: “What could we do surrounded by traitors, who were paid by Pitt and his government to sap the foundations of the Republic?” I could not help observing that the conduct of the Committee reminded me of the hangman in an English play, who states to his friends, that having a great deal upon his hands one day in the hurry of business whipped the rope round a bystander’s neck, and did not discover his mistake until a full hour after the man had been hanging.

Whenever the atrocities of the different rulers of France are made the subjects of inquiry, I have always found the same language employed to extenuate the guilt of their principal agents. Murders, rapes, burnings, proscriptions and pillage are all laid upon the Revolution, which is a generic term for every species of crime; but the agents, the authors of these horrors, remain unmolested and riot in the blood and tears they have caused to flow.

If it be necessary to offer an apology for deeds of blood, the gold of Pitt is displayed in all its wonder-working efficacy; if the murder of an innocent person be lamented, we are instantly told he was an agent of Pitt.

However penitent some of these miscreants may affect to be, their example does not appear to be followed by David. In general he is silent and reserved upon political subjects. Nothing seems to distress him more than the recollection of the conventional period. But his distress arises not from the awakening voice of nature, nor from the reproaches of an accusing conscience. It originates in idea that the days of blood and proscriptions are no more.

I am convinced that David regrets the halcyon times when thousands were butchered to illustrate the reign of liberty and equality. Speaking of St. Just,[1] the hated Decemvir, he declared: “Notwithstanding the fate of that unfortunate young man and the prejudices entertained against him, he was véritablement à la hauteur de la Revolution.” In an unguarded moment he proceeded to pour forth the bloody sentiments of his ferocious soul.

CHARACTER OF DAVID

He did not scruple to avow that the Committee of Public Safety had been the saviours of France and the founders of her gigantic empire; and after a flourish on the civil wars and massacres attendant on the acquisition of our English freedom, said it was impossible to establish a Republic except by wading through seas of blood.

I asked him whether it was true that a project had been in contemplation to reduce the population of France to one-third of its present number. He answered that it had been seriously discussed, and that Dubois Croucé was the author.

M. David, like every other Frenchman, is utterly ignorant of the nature of the liberty we enjoy and of all our institutions.

They have not a conception of the possibility of freedom existing in any state with a monarch at its head; with them there is not a vestige of liberty among any people who have not high-sounding Roman titles.

In the same measure they cannot comprehend the being of that middle class of society which constitutes the bulwark of our isle. According to their notions of Britain, a man must be noble or a pauper.

Thanks to our barbarous forefathers we have the whole essence of regulated freedom, without the gilded terms of Roman despotism; we have gothic names for the enjoyment of an enlightened people. David recognises no freedom that is not open to holy insurrection against established authority. Wherever shrieks of murder and the notes of the trumpet are not heard, there can be no liberty. A person who is conversant in the science of physiognomy would pronounce the character of this monster at first sight. With a hideous wen upon his lip, which shows his teeth and for ever marks him with the snarling grin of a tiger—with features and eyes which denote a lust for massacre, he is a savage by instinct and an assassin by rule. He is an atheist in faith and practice, and a murderer by choice.

While he was a member of the Committee of Public Safety and General Vigilance, his greatest pleasure consisted in frequenting the prison, where he feasted his eyes upon those who were condemned to die and loaded the unhappy victims with imprecations. It was his constant practice to call every morning at the prisons to inquire how many were to be guillotined, and on being told one day that there were sixteen, he instantly exclaimed in a furious attitude: “How, only sixteen! The Republic is undone!”

Retributive justice eventually overtook David, and he was committed to prison in order to be tried for his life. After he had lain some time in jail, two individuals sent to inform him that they were commissioned by certain persons in England to save his life. A powerful interposition did take place, and he was restored to liberty. Some time after he was officially informed (I heard this from his own mouth) that he was wholly indebted to the English for his life and liberation.

I endeavoured in vain to persuade him that if this were true it must have been the work of private friendship or some ardent admirer of his distinguished talents. He persisted in the belief that it was the interference of the English Government which saved him, notwithstanding the obvious improbability of such an occurrence.

When we perceive on all sides in France at the present day nothing but the ruins of religion and morality, it is a relief to the soul and a debt of justice due to an innocent family to describe them as they are, devoid of guile and unstained with their father’s crimes.

Madame David, during the Terror, retired with her children to a country residence, where she lived in ignorance of her husband’s conduct in Paris. She was what the French then termed an aristocrat, that is an honest loyal woman, who believed in God, loved good order and cherished the affections of domestic life.

MADAME DAVID

The French Revolution has produced many amazons and many female philosophers, who have died cursing God and man. It has also exhibited magnificent traits of female heroism, and the scaffold has reddened with the blood of women who have sacrificed their private interests for the public cause. But Madame David in her way is as great a heroine as any of these. As soon as the intelligence reached her that her husband was in prison and about to be tried for his life, she forgot at once the religious and political differences which had estranged her from him, and set off instantly for Paris, making herself the companion of his misfortunes.

During the whole period of his confinement, at the risk of arrest on suspicion, she was assiduous in her attendance upon him, and spared no expense to procure him all the comforts of which his situation would admit. She was also unceasing in her work to save him. Every day she was to be seen at the different bureaus or at the houses of the men in power, entreating and even intriguing for her husband. It may be justly questioned whether David does not owe his life to her exertions rather than those of some English emissary.

Of the rest of the family I can speak in equal terms of respect. His daughters are modest and prepossessing, and their good sense is as marked as their good manners. The son devotes his whole time to a study of the Greek language, in which he is in a fair way of excelling. Once a week he has a conversazione, at which every respectable native of Greece, resident in Paris, is invited, as well as all who cultivate Greek literature.

His Attic conversations are extremely well attended, for I have met there Villaison, Viscomti, Mangez,[1] Cornus,[1] Bitaubé,[1] and Larcher. As soon as young David has completed his course of Greek studies he intends to proceed to Greece, and the islands of the neighbouring Archipelago, from whence he will pass over into the Troad and visit Asia Minor.

XXII
EXCURSION TO RINCY. AMUSEMENTS OF THE VILLAGES ON SUNDAY EVENING

The late Duke of Orléans owned Rincy, and took great pains to arrange his park and garden in the English taste. Since his death it has fallen into decay, but the Parisians frequent it on Sunday, much as our Londoners regale themselves at Richmond or at Greenwich Parks.

We departed at an early hour, accompanied by Mrs. Cosway. Rincy is thirteen miles from the capital and situated on the Strasburg road. On our journey we met two open carts filled with criminals, principally robbers, who were under their way to the metropolis under an escort of gens d’armes. The first cart contained two captains of those predatory bands of thieves who infest the Departments near the Rhine, and of whose exploits such terrible accounts have been given. One of them seemed to be placed in an unusually conspicuous position, so that he might be easily recognised. He was extraordinarily tall, and under an immense round hat exhibited features almost equalling in ferocity those of the painter David.

It seemed incomprehensible that the Government should go to the expense and inconvenience of transporting these wretches 200 miles from the theatre of their crimes, in order to take their trials before the criminal tribunal in Paris, where all witnesses for and against could only be produced at a very great public cost. When I returned to Paris I attempted to probe this matter to the bottom, when the only rational answer I obtained was that the citizens of Paris were fond of seeing the execution of great criminals! I suggested that this taste for blood might be as easily gratified if the culprits were transferred after their conviction to the Parisian guillotine, having been first tried in the Department where their crimes were committed. I was told, however, the effect would not be the same.

THE CHÂTEAU OF RINCY

I resume my narrative. We had hitherto been favoured with fine weather, but just as we arrived at the gates of the château a heavy shower of rain began to fall—the coachman desired the woman to open the gates, which she bluntly refused to do unless we produced a permit from the present proprietor. Upon which I held out “un petit écu,” and received this reply from the female citizen: “C’est impossible, monsieur, ce n’est pas une affaire du gouvernement!” A more open and honest avowal of the venality of the present government of France was impossible.

But a further parley and exhibition of our papers of identity effected what bribery could not accomplish, and we were suffered eventually to pass.

Just at the entrance of the park is a traiteur’s (or restaurant), where, it being Sunday, many of the bourgeois of Paris were regaling themselves. The grounds themselves resemble an Englishman’s park. It has, of course, suffered from the effects of the Revolution, but enough remains to indicate that it was once a most voluptuous spot. The château unhappily is demolished, and the massive pillars lie broken and dispersed upon the ground. The lodge is repairing for the actual proprietor, a wealthy Parisian merchant and the present keeper of Madame Tallien, the wife of the Conventional butcher of Bordeaux.

Opposite to this edifice stand the stables, in a tolerably good state of preservation. The gravel walks are in good order, the fountains, aqueducts and basins in a complete state, and the copses and woods have not been cut down. The magnificent dairy is untouched, and at the top of the hill which overlooks the park, the Sunday excursionists amuse themselves by wandering in a labyrinth and surveying the “jets d’eau” which are continually playing.

In ascending the hill we found a pretty cottage, at the door of which stood a man whose physiognomy announced his English extraction. He also perceived we were English and invited us in our own language to rest in his house. His name is Hudson, he was gamekeeper to the late Duke of Orleans for fourteen years, and had accompanied him from England on the occasion of that Prince’s visit when Duc de Chartres to our country. He had a son of about ten years of age, who spoke English and French with equal facility. The extreme neatness of the little cottage showed it was not inhabited by a Frenchman—everything was arranged in English fashion. A fine ham was on the table and several flitches of bacon decorated the ceiling. During Robespierre’s reign Hudson was imprisoned, and was to have been executed, but the death of that monster happily intervening, he was liberated.

Hudson made many affectionate and respectful inquiries after the young Princes of the House of Orleans, and was very particular in his questions respecting the Count of Beaujolais, whom he had taught to ride, and for whom he seemed to entertain a great affection. He did not appear the least disposed to quit France, nor to leave the situation he now holds under another master. He consoles himself with the idea “that things are coming round again as they were before the Revolution, and he hoped he should do as well at Rincy under the new proprietor as he did under the late Duke.” He is one of those beings who are satisfied with any master so long as he is well provided for.

I inquired for the celebrated breed of merino sheep, and was told the whole flock had been removed to Rambouillet. We then retired to the traiteur’s, where we were provided with an excellent dinner; and after eating it, while the horses were harnessing, entered into conversation with an old man who had formerly received a pension from the late Duke, and who now, with so many others, was quite destitute.

THE PANTHEON

Most bitterly did he deplore the Revolution and curse its abettors. We were surprised to find nearly all the people at Rincy speak of the late Duke in terms of deep regret. On our return to Paris we were serenaded in every village, and twice alighted to watch the diversions of the peasants. At one place they were dancing by moonlight on a green, and at another in a large room lighted for the purpose. They were neatly dressed in their Sunday clothes, and seemed to enjoy their sports. We did not pass a single village where there was not a rural ball; and on the left of the high road a great number of rooms were lighted in which suppers were preparing for the dancers. These rooms were interspersed among the trees and gave a pleasing and lively appearance.

Such innocent diversions reminded us of the old days of France, when the country people were remarkable for their innocent gaiety and good-natured mirth; as the sweet poet sings:

“Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease,

Pleased with itself, whom all the world can please,

Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days

Have led their children through the mirthful maze,

And the gay grandsire, skilled in jestic lore,

Has frisked beneath the burden of fourscore.”

Goldsmith’s Traveller.

XXIII
THE PANTHEON AND ITS LIBRARY. HALLE AU BLED. THE SORBONNE. OBSERVATIONS

In 1793 a visit to the Pantheon in the Rue St. Jacques was considered a duty for every patriot, who thus made a pilgrimage to the shrines of the departed saints of Liberty. It was an affecting sight to behold the regenerated children of freedom besmeared with blood and their feverish heads covered with bonnets rouges, descending into the vaults where the remains of their Satanic hierarchs reposed, and invoking, by the glimmering light of funeral torches, the shades of Marat and le Pelletier,[1] St. Fargeon.

In the more rational and early part of the Revolution this place was consecrated to the memory of those who by their genius, their discoveries, or their civil and military services, had contributed to raise the prosperity of their country. France, in St. Denis, possessed a Royal Mausoleum, but she was destitute of a cemetery for her national benefactors, and nothing could therefore be more laudable than the appropriation of the vaults (for this purpose) of one of the finest churches in Christendom, and accordingly this church of St. Geneviève was selected for this purpose. But this Christian temple was soon converted into a temple of Paganism, and its name changed to a heathen one, while instead of becoming an offertory to genius, its vaults became the receptacle of the bodies of bloody-minded maniacs.

I remember to have seen the tombs of Voltaire[1] and Mirabeau at the extremity of these caverns, and they were the only great men who, in 1792, were judged worthy of being pantheonised. The remains of the latter were soon disturbed, for after the deposition of the King, he was suspected of being a Royalist and therefore a traitor to that Republic which, at the time of his death, was nonexistent. The relics of the Man of the People were therefore removed and flung into the Seine. But the ashes of Voltaire, the economist of monarchical government, the flatterer of kings, a determined aristocrat and a man who entertained as hearty a contempt for republican institutions as does Bonaparte himself, were left to moulder undisturbed.

VOLTAIRE

If I am not mistaken, Voltaire would, I am persuaded, had he lived in these times, have been the panegyrist of Bonaparte. Such a man as the First Consul would have captured the senses of the Philosopher of Fernay, and the declarations of this affected Mussulman delighted the eulogist of Mahomet.

Whoever is acquainted with the writings of Voltaire must perceive that the vivacity of his imagination carries him beyond himself. Acute, penetrating and ingeniously sceptical, no man was more easily deceived by appearances. A successful usurper and a great man were, in his mind, identical; with him goodness and greatness were correlative terms. The vilest scoundrel on earth, if possessed of Imperial power, is a great man. Hence we find Voltaire calumniating Constantine because he was a convert to Christianity and complimenting the most perfidious, cruel and barbarous conquerors because they were not Christians; extolling the licentious despotism of a puny tyrant of France, because infidelity flourished in his court and camp and publicly avowing that no conqueror existed without being at the same time a man of good understanding.

The legislators of modern France, I am convinced, never read with any attention the works of Voltaire, much less penetrated the spirit and object of his compositions. They denominated him a Republican simply because Condorcet[1] commented on Voltaire’s atheistical doctrines from the tribune of the Convention, and because they were not able to distinguish a desire to sap the foundations of Christian belief from a love of anarchy and misrule. Voltaire was the champion of kings, but the implacable enemy of priests.

From the private correspondence of Voltaire, it is evident he held in utter contempt the applause of the multitude. He aspired to obtain the suffrages of the great and to make proselytes of kings, countries, statesmen, women who possessed an influence over public men, and these personages he flattered unceasingly. The kind of revolution he wanted to establish was as distinct from Jacobinism as true liberty from licentiousness. I do not wish it to be understood from this remark that I approve of the work of Voltaire, nor do I deny that he planted the seeds of that irreligious movement which in France has proved a powerful auxiliary to political disorder. Voltaire neither loved nor understood liberty, he treated with contempt the Parliaments and States-General of France; he apostrophised civil despotism wherever it despises religion, and criticised Montesquieu without understanding him.

Such was the man whose bones were unmolested, while the great advocate of Public Freedom was committed to the muddy waters of the Seine. I have had many conversations with Mirabeau, and I am certain that although no Republican, he did not detest a Republican system of government. The portals of the Pantheon, after the removal of the body of Mirabeau, were opened to receive the corrupt carcase of that miserable little demoniac, Marat, and a multitude of other sages, who had rendered themselves, by their villainies, their buffooneries and their insanities, worthy of immortality. Later on Marat was unpantheonised and tossed into the public sewer, and I apprehend the greater number of the men whom their grateful country has canonised in this polluted Temple have been served a similar trick; for upon inquiring on our visit there we learnt that there were no immortals at present in preservation.

There is nothing, therefore, now (1802) to be seen in Ste. Geneviève but ruins; it has sunk considerably, and fresh supports have been placed to the foundations. The edifice, commenced thirty years ago, is not finished. We were warned it was not safe to traverse the interior; we did, however, cross two of the naves, though repeatedly warned to desist. Behind the church is the cloister, in which there is a library of 30,000 volumes open all day for the use of the public. It is kept in great order and decorated with a multitude of busts of the literati of France, and at the extremity is a glass case containing a model of the city of Rome.

Dannon, an ex-legislator, is the principal librarian.

The next object we visited was the Halle au Bled, or corn market. This is a very interesting place—both on account of the different species of corn offered for sale and of the vast cupola which covers the whole of the market. This cupola is the largest in France, and its diameter is 120 feet—only 13 feet less than that of the Pantheon at Rome, considered the greatest in the world. The vast Doric column employed the genius of Catherine de Medici, who believed in both astrology and magic. There are several allegorical figures upon it which denote the Queen’s widowhood. The world cannot produce such another extraordinary spectacle. The dome is constructed with finely ornamented wood, and so contrived that each partition is supported by another; there are no pillars used to uphold the fabric.

SORBONNE AND OBSERVATORY

The word Sorbonne recalls to my mind that of the Inquisition. In the hall of these controversialists, it has solemnly been discussed whether black was not white, assassination has been alternately extolled and condemned. The same doctrines have been deemed heretical and orthodox, according to the circumstances of the times. I have no other word to say respecting the Sorbonne, except that it exhibits nothing now but bare walls and ruins, and is scarcely worth the trouble of a visit.

The National Observatory is situated near the Rue S. Jacques; it was erected by Perrault, who was a better architect than an astronomer. The meridian line is traced along the great hall of the first storey. Under the edifice are subterranean caves or catacombs, which form a labyrinth from which no stranger can hope to extricate himself without the services of a guide.

The rooms are bare and destitute of furniture or accommodation for those who ought to assemble in them.

Cassini, the able director under the Royal Government, was driven away by the Revolution. No leading astronomers go to this Observatory.

From the top of the building we had a magnificent view of Paris and its environs.

The astronomical instruments are stationed in the great hall, but on account of the absence of the officials connected with the building we were unable to examine them or to see the immense telescope. Upon the whole this edifice is, like all French public buildings, superior in architecture to anything of the kind in England, but greatly inferior in utility, and far less calculated to answer its object than that at the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, was under the direction of Dr. Maskelyne.[1]

XXIV
EXCURSION TO ST. CLOUD. PORCELAIN MANUFACTORY AT SÈVE. A DUEL

Queen Marie Antoinette paid dearly for the vast sums expended upon this palace. A fourth part of the money expended upon St. Cloud would have sufficed to purchase by bribery all the demagogues of France.

This place derives its name from a very remote antiquity. When the grandsons of Clovis and Ste. Clotilde were murdered by their ambitious and unnatural uncles, one (Cleodold) escaped, and was conveyed by his nurse to a secret place, where he was educated for the priesthood. He eventually founded a monastery in the vicinity of Paris, called after him St. Cleodold or St. Cloud. In later years a Royal château was built upon the same site. Before the Revolution his tomb was still preserved, inscribed with a very ancient epitaph.

St. Cloud is about six miles from Paris. The château stands upon an eminence commanding a full view of the capital and adjacent country; and the Seine, which widens at this point, meanders slowly beside the grove of trees planted along the banks. During the life of the Queen, the paintings in the gallery, the magnificence of the furniture in all the apartments, and the beauty of the walks, waters and cascades, made St. Cloud a most attractive spot. But the paintings and furniture were destroyed, and the place is now fitted up in a most costly style for the residence of the First Consul.

It is his intention to hold his Court here occasionally, and to enrich it with some choice pictures from the gallery in the Louvre. I have been informed that he intends to make it the depôt for all the gold and silver utensils which he stole out of private houses during the campaign in Italy.

ST. CLOUD

A considerable quantity of Church plate which he purloined he has sent to a silversmith’s to be melted, and afterwards wrought into salvers and other domestic vessels, marked with his initials, so that the Consular family will always be served upon gold and silver plates and dishes.

The cascades of St. Cloud are perfectly preserved, and they play once a month for the amusement of the Parisian populace. The expense of these exhibitions amounts to £12,750 per annum. The waterworks of Marli, which originally cost £200,000 sterling, are to be destroyed in order to increase the celebrity of those which ornament the Consular residence.

I have more than once had occasion to animadvert on the facilities open to licentiousness and debauchery in almost every place of public resort in Paris. There is a circumference of wickedness traced within twelve miles of this metropolis, seemingly on purpose to prevent unwary youth from escaping the bonds of infection. No repose or time for reflection is allowed to the voluptuous inhabitant of Paris. Of this melancholy truth the detail of what I saw in the village of St. Cloud is a proof.

This place being in the vicinity of Paris, and only a pleasant promenade from that capital, it is frequented by the Sunday devotees of pleasure. It is chiefly the resort of young persons of both sexes, who, after wandering about the charming walks, retire to an auberge at the foot of the bridge where there are a number of little hermitages in which they procure refreshments. These hermitages, though in the style of English tea-gardens, are refinements on the dull insipid morality of British rural architecture, because in France it is a prevailing maxim that elegant vice is preferable to dull virtue.

Into one of these little boxes we were ushered for the purpose of taking refreshment. After we had rested awhile I perceived a small door which excited my curiosity; I opened it, when, behold!... Confounded at what I saw, I resolved to find out whether we might not have been introduced into this hut by mistake; but, after examining at least twenty others, I found they were precisely upon the same plan and with the same views, only a few of them surpassed the others in decoration and scenery.

I inquired of the mistress of the place why so many little bedrooms were annexed to these boxes; she replied coolly that they were for the accommodation of such ladies and gentlemen who came to St. Cloud, and who desired a private tête-à-tête.

We then visited the celebrated porcelain manufactory of Sève, which is at all times open to public inspection. The range of apartments in which the porcelain is exhibited is extensive. A few groups of figures are in glass cases, but all the other articles exposed to the touch of the visitor. The price is affixed to each article, and no abatement whatever is made to purchasers.

The trade in porcelain, we are told, has for long been dull and heavy, but it is expected the general peace will open a vent for the sale of these articles.

The highest price of any article we saw was £20 sterling for a single plate, a price we thought exorbitant.

I maintain that the porcelain manufactured at Derby will stand a comparison with that at Sève. If the latter be more pellucid and delicate in its white colour, the finishing of the figures is equal, if not superior, at the former. I saw some years ago at Derby a dessert service manufactured for the Prince of Wales, and I did not find anything so beautifully executed at Sève.

NEGLECT OF PUBLIC EDUCATION

We thoroughly examined this elegant exhibition, and were received with great politeness and attention. We then returned by the walks of St. Cloud, and drove off to Paris through the Bois de Boulogne.

On our way we saw several persons carrying the dead body of General d’Estaing,[1] who had just been shot by General Regnier[1] in a duel. The cause of the quarrel arose in Egypt, where both officers served with distinction. D’Estaing was an able man, and is much regretted; but Regnier is possessed of very splendid abilities and an acute and penetrating genius, as is shown in the admirable account he has sent the Agricultural Society concerning the state of agriculture in Egypt. This unfortunate affair does not excite the sensation here that the death of a fighting booby does in London. Duelling is by no means so frequent as under the Monarchy, the point of honour being little understood by the Republican nobles.

XXV
ESTABLISHMENTS FOR PUBLIC INSTRUCTIONS. THE MILITARY SCHOOL. THE CHAMPS DE MARS. THE GOBELIN MANUFACTORY. THE HÔTEL DE VILLE AND THE GARDE MEUBLE

In old France there were more universities, colleges and public schools than in any other part of the world. All these were overthrown by the Jacobin Revolution, and the funds allotted to their support squandered on the adventurers who figured and still figure on the theatre of the French Republic.

To this hour there is no general plan of education in the country. There are only three central schools in Paris, and their organisation is essentially defective.

Abstract sciences and history fill up the whole course of education until the pupil is eighteen years of age.

Geography is not taught; there is no professor of foreign languages, and only one lecturer upon the ancient and classical tongues, who once a week reads aloud a discourse rather for his own amusement than for the advantage of his pupils.

In consequence of these arrangements the understanding of the scholar is never exercised. To teach the abstract sciences to boys merely by reading dissertations to them is much the same as to attempt the demonstration of a problem by Euclid without pen, ink or paper.

These central schools therefore are no manner of use, they only serve as a parade of useless erudition on the part of the professor, and nurse consummate ignorance and vanity in the students who attend them.

However, when the pupils have somehow or other gone through their classes, they are removed to the Polytechnic school, which is the Parisian University.

About 400 boys are here finishing at this Polytechnic school, laboratories, mechanical workshops and philosophical apparatus are provided for the use of the pupils.

If a young person is ambitious of acquiring the elements of science, he must work at home and pay his own masters, for the central schools cannot possibly render him any useful assistance. When he has educated himself he may possibly derive some advantage from attending the lectures of certain Professors. They are the following. In the Geographical School, the science of geography is well taught, but only twenty pupils are admitted to this establishment. The School of Roads and Bridges is also a very useful institution. It was founded by M. Prony[1] during the Monarchy, thirty-six Polytechnicians are received into this school. The School of Naval Architecture is also an institution of the old Monarchy. The School of Medicine contains 1000 students, twenty professors, a modeller in wax and a designer. There is a school of pharmacy, a mineral school and a veterinary school at Alfort near Charenton.

But the most important college still remaining is the “Collège de France,” Place de Cambrai, which has survived the storms of the Revolution and retains its ancient reputation. It has seventeen professors, who are all men of the greatest merit and celebrity in the Republic of letters.

CHAMP DE MARS

Lalande, perhaps the ablest astronomer in Europe, is the professor of astronomy; la Croix, a profound geometrician, professor of mathematics; and my estimable and revered friend, de la Metherie, professor of natural history.

These different colleges are supported entirely at the expense of the State; the professors are paid out of the public revenues, and students of all ages and countries permitted to consult and attend their lectures free of any expense.

But these establishments are not in the least suitable for those who have not long overstepped the boundaries of elementary knowledge, and they are beyond the reach of juvenile or vulgar understandings.

The Ecole Militaire, erected in 1751, after the designs of Gabriel, did not suffer as a building during the Revolution, because it was used as a barrack for the troops of the Convention.

It is now converted into a barrack for the Consular Horse Guards commanded by Eugène Beauharnais.

We were permitted to walk round the piazzas that encircle the court, beneath which soldiers were sleeping in groups. So solemn a silence reigned through the building we might have fancied ourselves in a Benedictine monastery.

The Champs de Mars is by many people mistaken for a Campus Martius, but the origin of its designation is taken from the fact that this spot was in early ages used for the holding of those assemblies of the people which were precursors of the more modern Parliaments. As these meetings were usually held in the month of March, the places where they were held were termed the Fields of March. This great enclosure is now one of the dullest and least frequented spots in Paris. Formerly the Altar of Federation stood in its centre, but that, with every other ornament of the Revolution, is now levelled with the ground.

But when we reflect upon the many philosophical, conventional and dictatorial antics which have been exhibited and practised here within the last decade, it is worth the trouble of visiting this place.

All the blasphemous pantomimes which were performed in commemoration of the sanguinary freaks of the Republic were represented on the Champs de Mars.

The pencil of David has been often employed on the scenery, and the pen of Chenier ran with blood as he composed the pæans of Jacobinism.

It was here also that Robespierre, with a lighted torch, set fire to the altar to the Etre Suprème, while the people shouted “Vive Robespierre! Vive la Convention!” All this sounds like fiction, and yet it all took place on this very field.

The manufactory of Gobelins still exists, though its productions past and present are in no request and have grown out of fashion.

During the Monarchy it was a most thriving and prosperous industry, and a vast number of workmen were employed there. The different apartments contain many beautiful tapestries, taken from original paintings by great French artists, but they find no purchasers.

Nothing can be more exquisite than the colouring and exquisite workmanship of the articles produced here; a single piece requires two or three years’ labour. The workmen are not paid more than three shillings a day for their sedentary and difficult occupation. This is accounted for by the fact that the Government supports the manufactory, and that there is no sale whatever for the works.

Fashions are changing constantly, and perhaps the Gobelins may again have its day. Gilles Gobelins, a celebrated dyer, erected the manufactory during the reign of Francis I.

HÔTEL DE VILLE

The Hôtel de Ville is worthy of a traveller’s attention on account of its antiquity and its having been the focus of many extraordinary events. It was built in the middle of the sixteenth century and contains a great number of apartments. After August 10, 1792, all the ancient inscriptions and ornaments were taken down and either removed or destroyed. When the King was brought to Paris from Versailles by the mob, prepared and hired for that purpose, he was exhibited at one of the windows to the populace; and Monsieur Bailly, the Mayor, informed him that it was a fine day, and presented him with the National cockade instead of a bouquet.

This is the place where Robespierre first took refuge when he had been outlawed, and in front of it is the lamp iron from which so many victims have been suspended. Here the red flag, with the inscription Citoyens, la patrie est en danger! was first unfurled, to serve as the signal for massacre, and here the guillotine is preserved for the inspection of the curious.

Twelve years ago the Garde Meuble was one of the principal curiosities which attracted the attention of foreigners. The apartments were filled with ancient armoury, national and foreign, rare tapestries, after the cartoons and designs of Dürer, Lucas of Leyden, Julius Romano, Raphael, le Brun and Coypel; precious vases, presents from ambassadors, jewels, pearls, diamonds, and a multitude of other rich and valuable articles. In the month of September 1792, a band of thieves broke into the halls and carried off a great quantity of these riches, among other things the Pitt diamond, the largest belonging to the Crown. However, there are still some precious antiques remaining, such as the sword of Henry IV., the spontoon of Paul V., and the polished armour worn by Francis I. at the Battle of Pavia, with which on the day of the capture of the Bastille a cobbler of the Faubourg St. Antoine, then on guard, completely caparisoned himself, to the utter astonishment of the spectators. The exterior of this vast edifice has not suffered by the blows of the Revolution. It is not yet decided to what purpose the Government intend to convert it.

XXVI
THE CONSERVATORY OF ARTS AND MACHINES

The ravages of the Revolution completely laid waste the whole of France intellectually, as well as morally, and the labours of eminent artists and inventors were either suspended or transferred to foreign countries.

The murderers of Lavoisier could scarcely be expected to patronise either arts or useful sciences.

In the short space of ten years more injury has been done to the useful arts in France than by all the Alarics and Omars of antiquity.

However, the Revolutionists had not proceeded very far in the route of devastation, when a few enlightened men, who perceived the extent of the mischief threatened to be entailed upon posterity, courageously opposed their further progress, and adopted the most provident precautions to stop the fury of the evil.

Through the indefatigable exertions of Bishop Grégoire the National Convention on October 11, 1794, decreed the establishment of a Conservatory of Arts, whose object was to collect machines, utensils, designs, descriptions and experiments, relating to the improvement of industry, so as to diffuse some knowledge of them throughout the Republic.

But it was one thing to decree and another to execute. By a studied remissness the law was suspended for three years. National edifices were granted by dint of favour to useless projectors, but the Conservatory of Arts could find no place to display its riches and means of instruction. At length a decree, passed on May 7, appropriated a portion of the former Abbey of St. Martin des Champs to this object, and the inadequate sum of 56,000 livres, or £2240 sterling, was voted for the reparations of the building, the purchase of the land and the indemnity accorded to the renter.

CONSERVATOIRE D’ARTS

Thus finally organised, the Conservatory of Arts presents a splendid accumulation of useful machines, always open for the inspection and improvement of the public. The machines, which Pajot d’Ozemberg gave to the ancient Academy of Sciences, and the greater part of the beautiful models which composed the celebrated gallery of mechanical arts belonging to the late Duke of Orleans, are now in this Conservatory. Also the 500 machines bequeathed to the Government by the celebrated Vaucouson, to whom the French nation is as much indebted as to Olivier des Serres and Bernard Palissy.

In addition to these collections there is an infinite number of machines relative to agricultural labours, such as draining, irrigation, preparation of oil, &c.

The Conservatory also contains machines for twisting tobacco, taken from on board an English vessel, as well as a very important chart of North America, executed by order of our Government. It has been greatly enriched by the “discoveries” of certain French savans, those learned robbers of the National Institute who followed the victorious march of the Republican armies in Holland and Italy. Whole waggon loads of instruments of science have been filched from their proprietors and transmitted to this National reservoir by those industrious, indefatigable and erudite thieves, Citizens Thonin, Fanjos, Leblond, Bertholet, Barthélémy, Monge, Moitte and De Wailly.

The object of the Conservatory is not only to secure to the public the knowledge of those inventions for which the Government has conferred rewards or granted patents, but also to become the common depot of all inventions. Thus it is for the useful arts what the Louvre is for sculpture or painting.

Upon the whole this Conservatoire d’Arts is one of the most beneficial and laudable establishments in France. It has a direct tendency to encourage industry and stimulate genius. Some persons who have not sufficiently examined the matter object to it on the plea, that by rendering handicrafts more simple by mechanical force, a multitude of workmen will be deprived of the means of subsistence.

Such arguments were used by the watermen of London when Westminster Bridge was built.

But the world possesses more scope for labour than it possesses hands, and the powers of mechanism by simplifying the process of manufacture also diminish the price of the article, bringing it thereby into general circulation and opening a more lucrative commerce to a nation by underselling the produce of foreign countries and so putting an end to all competition.

The true principle of public economy begins to be studied in every part of Europe, and we are making a slow but certain progress in improvement.

But if the rash spirit of innovation takes possession of the minds of those who govern mankind, if they will insist on bringing all things within a punctilious system of rules, they must not be surprised if their fondness for precision should terminate in a similar anarchy to that which has oppressed and ruined France.

XXVII
THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE

The decay of letters and philosophy during the progress of the French Revolution placed the French under the necessity of establishing some measures to restore the cultivation of science and literature. Thus the National Institute was eventually formed. The old Academies had been completely destroyed, their members banished, murdered, or dispersed.

THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE

The National Institute is designed to remedy this evil by once more collecting together the genius, talents and industry of France, and it belongs to the whole Republic and is fixed at Paris. It is composed of one hundred and forty-four members resident in the capital, and 144 Associates, taken from different parts of the Republic, together with 24 learned foreigners. Every preference in this arrangement is manifestly given to Paris, at the expense of the Departments.

The Departments, containing a majority of 30 to 1 compared with the metropolis, are never expected to produce more great men collectively than the latter. This is absurd, for every one knows that under the old Monarchy there were men scattered over the provinces often equal and in many instances far superior to the members of the Parisian Academies.

Montesquieu[1] was a member of the Academy of Bordeaux in 1716, and it was not till the year 1728 that he was admitted into the Académie Française. Indeed, an admittance into that famous society was often no evidence of supereminent merit. Genius had to contest against cabal, intrigue and Court favour; so that the literati of Europe looked for great and estimable men in other Academies of France, such as Aix, Marseilles, Lyons, Bordeaux, &c.

The pre-eminence thus accorded to the Parisian savans, who are in general a gang of the vilest ruffians in the world, is a marked insult to the rest of the Republic, and proves that to rule France it is only necessary to be master at Paris. For the sake of this city, France, as well as foreign countries, has been laid under contribution and pillaged of whatever transportable monuments of art and genius they possessed. Had it been possible, the triumphal arch at Orange, the bridge of Gard, the amphitheatre at Nismes would have been removed here to gratify the fancy of the Parisian rabble of philosophers and legislators.

The law by which the learned men of a single city were placed on a level with those who people the whole of a vast country was made by the very men who afterwards became self-elected members of this miscalled National Institute. It is no trivial matter to be one of the 144 resident in Paris. It leads to fame and fortune, to places and appointments, and it is the highest step on the ladder of philosophical ambition.

To return to the laws of the Institute, it is divided into three classes:

First Class.—Physical and Mathematical Sciences.

(1) Mathematics, (2) mechanical arts, (3) astronomy, (4) experimental physics, (5) chemistry, (6) natural history, (7) botany, (8) anatomy and zoology, (9) medicine and surgery, (10) rural economy and veterinary art.

Second Class.—Moral and Political Sciences.

(1) Analysis of sensations and ideas, (2) morals or moral philosophy, (3) social science and legislation, (4) political economy, (5) history, (6) geography.

It will be observed that in this class there is no section for despised theology, which surely should have a foremost place therein.

Third Class.—Literature and the Fine Arts.

(1) Grammar, (2) ancient languages, (3) poetry, (4) antiquities and monuments, (5) painting, (6) sculpture, (7) architecture, (8) music and declamation.

When the National Institute was about to be established a law was enacted (3rd Brumaire, year 4) by which the Directory were authorised to provide salaries for each member, and the five members of the Executive Directory were empowered to nominate the first 48 members, who thus elected had power to choose the remaining 144 Associates.

In nominating the first 48, the Directors first elected each other, then their friends, and those friends nominated other friends in Paris and the Departments.

Every class of the Institute assembles twice in each decade; the assemblies are private, but each member is allowed to introduce a visitor.

The secretaries of each class assemble once a year to prepare a report of its labours, which is presented to the Institute, and whose president then writes to the Minister of the Interior to know when it shall please his consular majesty to give admission to his sacred person in order that they may present it.

RULES OF NATIONAL INSTITUTE

When that gala day arrives, the members of the Institute appear with clean shirts, dressed in their grand uniform, and neatly shaved. The First Consul receives them, habited in all his paraphernalia, and as gorgeously attired as any Emperor or King in Europe. Every member of the Institute receives 1600 livres (£60 sterling) per annum. Every member has a silver medal with the head of Minerva on one side and his name on the other, which serves as his passport into every place in which the Institute is concerned. The First Consul, who is so fond of stage effect that he will not allow an assembly of grave philosophers to think and act without a uniform, was graciously pleased to command one for the members of the Institute. The State dress consists of a black satin coat, waistcoat, and breeches, embroidered throughout with branches of olive in deep green silk, not à la Française.

The undress costume is similar, but only embroidered at the collar and cuffs. This regulation was signed and countersigned by the First Consul and the Minister of the Interior.

On the 5th Frimaire, year 10, the Institute decreed that on the death of a member the president, the senior of the two secretaries of each class, as well as the members of the section to which the deceased belonged, were, unless prevented by some unavoidable cause, to assist at his funeral. The procession departs from the National Palace of the Louvre at noon precisely, in order that the moment it arrives at the late residence of the deceased the funeral ceremony may immediately be despatched.

Formerly a hole was dug in the earth and the philosopher’s carcase quickly deposited therein, but since it has become the fashion to be a Christian the old service for the dead is to be revived. The Conservatory of Music are to execute a solemn dirge, and black crape is to be worn upon the left arm. An historical memoir of the deceased is to be made in the course of the year by the secretaries and read at a public sitting of the Institute, when the family of the dead member are to be seated in a distinguished place. The precision with which all these ceremonies are minutely marked out leaves room for regret that it has not been mentioned at what signal from the president the assembly shall begin to cry.

I ought, perhaps, to give a list of the members of this Institute, with details of their characters previous to and since the Revolution, and their respective claims to literary pre-eminence. Such a narrative would be interesting, as the greater part of them have rendered themselves less conspicuous in the world of letters than in taking a very active part in some of the most bloody tragedies of the Republic.

For instance: Bonaparte, Carnot,[1] Mouge,[1] le Blond,[1] Berthelet,[1] Foucroy,[1] Revellière,[1] Lepoux,[1] Cambacères, Merlin,[1] Talleyrand,[1] Roederer,[1] François de Neufchâteau, Chenier,[1] Thonin,[1] Mouette,[1] have all been known for their assassinations, robberies and atrocious crimes. Foucroy was the cause, for instance, of the murder of the immortal Lavoisier. All these ruffians and others space prevents my naming, furnish abundant matter for inquiry and reflection, but it is impossible to include such a length of biographies in a letter; but before I leave Paris I intend to procure sufficient authentic documents by which upon my return (should I escape in safety from the tyrant’s grasp) I shall be then enabled to drag these philosophical murderers and thieves out of their National Palace, strip them of their silken disguises, and expose them in all their naked deformity to the execration of mankind.

In vain do they flatter themselves that by the arts of a meretricious rhetoric they elude the vigilant pursuit of injured innocence and affronted justice, in vain do they suppose that they shall court foreign applause by associating with the learned of other countries. It is a disgrace and a dishonour to be favoured by the National Institute where a band of sanguinary ruffians pollute the halls consecrated to learning, science and wisdom. Whoever lives under a government where religion, morals and public freedom are revered, ought to reject their silver medal and procès verbal, as he would cast away from him food contaminated with poison.

If it be an honour to be elected a member of a society, learned, indeed, but fundamentally vicious and depraved, why not petition to be admitted to the Palace of Pandemonium?

The devils in hell are fully as knowing as the members of the Institute, and, for ought I know, not done greater evil to mankind. They are the fittest colleagues for such men, and not the upright and pensive cultivators of science and literature.

XXVIII
THE CENTRAL MUSÉE DES ARTS. THE GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE.

MUSEUM OF THE LOUVRE

When the French Republicans first took up arms, they protested to the world that they fought not for conquest, but to spread their beneficent doctrines of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, and that wherever their victorious standards were spread, the liberty and property of nations should be respected. Their first campaigns were directed against their warlike neighbours who hovered round their frontiers; and when they succeeded in repelling the veteran troops of the continental Powers, they began a career of robbery, pillage, rapine and destruction, which has no parallel in the history of disciplined nations, nor even in that of predatory hordes of barbarians.

The principle on which the robberies of the French have been conducted has been to aggrandise France by the utter impoverishment of other countries.

After having demolished the monuments of the genius and industry of their own countrymen, they went forth to ransack other countries, and destroyed all they could not carry away with them. Whatever had been raised by the talents, the piety or the care of the lovers of science, arts and literature, became the object of their vandalism or their peculation. Their policy had no element but to divide in order to conquer, and so arrive at universal domination by universal confusion. Occupied constantly on the destruction of Europe in detail, they trampled under their feet Monarchies and Republics alike.

Every time I have paced along the galleries of the Louvre sentiments of hatred and indignation took possession of my breast. Amidst all the blaze of artistic beauty I never entered nor left without feelings of disgust.

I confess I received no gratification from all the Raphaels, Titians, and Correggios I saw there.

In their proper places I could have gazed with transport upon these masterpieces, but I cannot look with pleasure on productions thus violently torn from their lawful owners.

Of all the countries which have been undone by French havock Italy has suffered the most, and its miseries are least known to the world. The French have literally exhausted upon that country the fecundity of rapine, cheating and fury. They have rendered themselves masters of its correspondence, and all we know now of the existence of that desolated country is through the frequent eruptions of a tyranny without remorse, of a powerless despair and of the accumulations of spoil which decorates the public exhibitions of Paris. The contributions of the French were nothing less than a general sack, the encyclopædia of their thefts forms a monument of curiosity.

STOLEN PICTURES

The barbarians who formerly overran Italy despised art, and neglected to take possession of such treasures. The fanatical Mussulman destroyed them as monuments of idolatry. But in our times Academicians, poets, orators, philosophers, members of the National Institute, have crossed the Alps to strip Italy of her talents, to force from her the labours of her children, the most sacred illustration of a people, a property which the laws of war among civilised nations has hitherto held to be inviolable until the present epoch, when a gang of savage sophists have replunged Italy into a darkness worse than any of the early ages of Europe.

Those who are ignorant of the methods by which a thief has realised an immense fortune may be forgiven for their admiration of his wealth and treasures, but the man who is acquainted with the villainy employed in such an accumulation is inexcusable should he lavish praises on objects in that thief’s possession. Therefore, with the knowledge that none of these pictures belong to France, and that they are all stolen goods acquired by fraud, injustice and murder, I could not coolly fix my eyes upon them nor repeat ecstacies of vulgar adulation.

No sooner have you entered the Gallery than you are presented with a catalogue of these paintings, in which the robbers do not blush to avow their robberies. The facetious rascals of the National Institute talk and write of the knavery with as much sangfroid as they take a pinch of snuff.

The paintings are styled “Tableaux conquis en Italie, recueillis dans la Lombardie, à Bologne, Cento, Modêne, Parme, Plaisance, Rome, Venise, Vérone, Florence, Turin.”

With this register of pillage in your hand, you enter the Gallery containing the spoils of nations, and nearly every picture bears at the bottom an inscription declaring it to be a stolen article. Scarcely a page of the catalogue but contains such proclamations of theft as these: “Ces deux tableaux viennent de la Cathédrale de Plaisance, où ils pendoient aux deux coins du Sanctuaire. Ce tableau est tiré de la galerie de Turin. Ce tableau vient du Palais Pitti. Ce tableau est tiré du Palais Pontifical de Monte Cavallo à Rome. Ce tableau vient du Cabinet du ci-devant Roi de Sardaigne à Turin. Ce tableau, un des meilleurs qu’a produit Paolo Veronese, est tiré de l’église des Réligieuses de St. Zacharin à Venise. Ce tableau vient du maître autel de l’église de San Giorgio à Venise. Ce tableau est tiré de l’église de Santa Maria del Orto à Venise. Ce précieux et magnifique tableau que les artistes regardent comme un des chefs d’œuvres de Titian, le martyre de St. Pierre, vient de l’église San Giovanni e Paolo à Venise. Ce portrait vient du Palais du Prince Breschi à Rome.”

There is no end to this catalogue of iniquity, it fills at present three volumes, but much more will be added. I question if the Newgate Calendar for the last 100 years contains altogether a hundredth part of the impudent dexterity in the art of filching which the rogues of the National Institute present to us in these three little syllabuses of Republican iniquity.

Englishmen, happily shut out from the view of the sack of the continent by that sea which guards our honest little island, have no adequate idea of the indignant feelings of the wretched inhabitants of the wronged countries which the French armies have plundered. I have visited this gallery of paintings in company with some Italians of distinction; I perceived in their countenances a deep and fixed look of unutterable anguish and regret. Such a look that only the artists of Italy whose expatriated portraits hung around us could delineate.

May Heaven preserve our country from ever experiencing a similar stroke of humiliation and abasement! How should we Britons feel if one day in a later catalogue we read among these: “Notices sur plusieurs précieux tableaux recueillis par les Philosophes de l’Institut pour multiplier les jouissances du public. Ce tableau peint sur toile est tiré de l’autel de l’église cathédrale de Westminster. Ce vitre vient de King’s College à Cambridge. Ce tableau est tiré du Cabinet du ci-devant Roi d’Angleterre à Windsor. Ce tableau de Shakespeare vient de la bibliothèque de la librairie à Cambridge. Ce tableau de la mort du General Wolfe est tiré du cabinet de la ci-devant Reine d’Angleterre à Buckingham House. Cette statue vient du Cabinet de Milord Lansdowne. Ce tableau peint par Claude vient du cabinet de Milord Gwydir.”

Having expressed with candour what my sentiments have ever been when I visited the gallery of paintings in the Louvre, I now proceed to fulfil the important duty of an historian.

MRS. COSWAY

Mrs. Cosway, whose taste and skill are well known, is now occupied in copying all the paintings in the Gallery on a small scale, intending to execute later an enlarged account of them, together with the biography of their respective masters. She has already executed several compartments; and not all the fascinations of society nor the gaieties of the capital can allure her from the daily pursuit of the labour of her choice. I tell her the Gallery of the Louvre is her drawing-room, for when she is at work all the English gather around her. However, she loses no time, for she enters in conversation and paints also, and it is difficult to affirm in which she most excels.

The object of Mrs. Cosway is to represent, by etchings, all the pictures precisely as they are fixed in the Gallery. The Hon. Mr. E—— is struck with the undertaking, and he has appropriated a particular part of his house at H—— for the display of her works.

There is one circumstance attached to all the public institutions of Paris on which I must bestow the highest commendation, they are open to the public gratis. I wish I could say the same of our excellent establishments at home. With the exception of the British Museum, I do not know of a single institution in Great Britain to which a native or a foreigner can be admitted without a fee. And these fees are generally exacted under so many circumstances of barefaced imposition that one cannot help feeling ashamed that such abuses should be tolerated, and that the officers of these establishments are permitted to exclude travellers who do not pay them gratuities for viewing these interesting and instructive collections.

The only qualification in Paris to visit museums or public institutions is to have your passport in your pocket—without it the porter at the gate will assuredly forbid your entrance.

Under the Monarchy, the Gallery of the Louvre alone was appropriated to the public, and contained a splendid collection of paintings. Now the whole palace is appropriated to National uses.

It is not only the repository of pictures, but also of antiquities; the National Institute and the Polytechnic Society designed to supply the Ancient Academy des Belles Lettres, hold their assemblies here.

The productions of living artists are exhibited here once a year, and appartements are allotted free of expense to various artists and men of science. The museum is maintained in a high state of cleanliness and propriety; and the orderly conduct of the spectators, who are all admitted free of charge and without respect of persons, is greatly to be commended.

The great Gallery of the Louvre is not well adapted for the exhibition of pictures; it is too narrow in proportion to its length, and the windows which look out towards the Seine defeat the effect of those which look towards the Place du Carrousel. A great number of the paintings thus appear to be covered with a continual mist, and others are scarcely discernible, so that the principal effect of light and shade is destroyed.

In addition to this misfortune a number of the noblest masterpieces of the Italian School have been injudiciously retouched by the French artists and been rendered quite unnatural and in many instances ridiculous. The colouring of the parts defaced has been executed in such a bungling manner as to resemble a piece of patchwork. They have likewise injured a multitude of exquisite performances with a species of varnish, by which, when I have approached them in search of the beauties of the artists, I have been mortified by a vision of my own homely features. Things are often more spoilt by overdoing than by remaining stationary, and by the neglect of this maxim the French have ruined many of the finest pictures in their stolen collection.

XXIX
THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES AT THE CENTRAL MUSEUM OF ARTS

THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES

I cannot better begin the description of this Gallery than by quoting the declaration which preceded the catalogue of the statues, busts and bas-reliefs therein contained.

The preface is as follows:—

“The greater part of the statues exhibited in this Gallery are the fruits of the conquests of the army of Italy. They have been selected out of the Capitol and the Vatican by Citizens Barthélémy, Bertholet, Moitte, Monge, Thonin, Tinet—the commissioners appointed by the Government for that purpose. To the scrupulous care with which these artists and savans have packed up and transported them, we are indebted for the happy preservation of these glorious fruits of victory; and the distinguished choice they have made from among the masterpieces which Rome possessed, proves their knowledge and skill, and all lovers of the arts must owe them a debt of eternal gratitude.”

This account of the means by which they became masters of these exquisite pieces of art is worthy of its writers. They consider themselves worthy of credit for their perfidy and their predatory adventures.

But I have already sufficiently animadverted on the philosophical exploits of the National Institute, and will therefore now describe to the best of my abilities this Gallery, to which I paid particular attention.

It may appear strange, but I never felt equal disgust or distress at the sight of these statues to that excited in my mind by the magnificent gallery of paintings.

The herd of men flock to the gallery of paintings to indulge their eyes with the brilliant luxury of beauty, but in the hall of statuary very few admirers greet the trophies of French conquest.

Yet it contains more monuments of the capacity of men than all the pictures in the Louvre put together. Indeed, the Laocoon and the Belvidere Apollo alone, both of which incomparable statues are here, may be justly said to equal if not exceed in value all the pictorial tributes wrung from ravaged Italy.

In the court through which you pass to enter the Gallery are four colossal statues of slaves and the celebrated statue of Jupiter Hermes, all removed from Versailles to enrich Paris.

For the Revolution was made in Paris. The Republic was founded in Paris—the rest of France was made for Paris—therefore it must be fleeced for the sake of Paris. In this way the patriotic members of the Institute continually reason.

Every article in the Gallery merits attention, but I will only enumerate a few while giving a general description of the various halls in their order.

“The Hall of the Seasons,” which is so named on account of the painted ceiling by Romanelli, representing the Seasons. This hall contains twenty-six figures, of which the most celebrated and beautiful are:—

A faun, reposing, and holding a flute (supposed to be a copy of the famous satyr of Praxiteles), stolen from the Museum of the Capitol at Rome.

A naked youth extracting a thorn from his foot, and a young faun of Parian marble, stolen as above.

Venus issuing from a bath of Pentelicon marble, stolen from the Museum of the Vatican.

Ariadne, stolen from the Belvidere of the Vatican. Septimus Severus, from Ecouen.

A colossal bust of Antoninus Pius and one of Lucius Verus, from the same place.

Augustus, stolen from the Cabinet of the Bevilacqua, at Verona.

We then enter the “Hall of Illustrious Men,” decorated by eight antique pillars of granatillo, plundered from the nave of the church of Aix la Chapelle.

SPOILS FROM THE VATICAN

Here are statues of Zeus, the Philosopher from the Capitol, Demosthenes, Trajan and a statue of Sextus, the uncle of Plutarch—all removed from the Vatican. From the Papal Museum are also statues of Menander, the Greek poet, and a fine Minerva of Pentelicon marble.

The next chamber is the “Roman Hall.”

The ceiling being ornamented with various subjects, taken from Roman history.

It contains twenty-nine statues, all bearing relation to the Roman people. Amongst them are:

The head of Scipio Africanus in bronze; the bust of Hadrian in the same metal, stolen from the Library of St. Mark’s at Venice. From the Capitol, the bust of Brutus; a Wounded Warrior[6] (this is a magnificent piece of work); Urania, sitting on a rock.

From the Vatican, Melpomene, Antoninus, and Venus at the bath, are the most striking figures.

And we now arrive at the “Hall of the Laocoon.”

This vast room is embellished with four beautiful columns of verde antique, taken from the Mausoleum, erected after the designs of Bulloin, of the famous Constable of France, Anne de Montmorency.

Each is a massive single block of the richest quality, about eleven feet high and half a yard in diameter.

In this hall are twenty-one figures, of which the first which demands attention is that wonder of the world and masterpiece of sculpture, “The Groups of the Laocoon,” executed by Agisander, Polydorus and Athenodorus. It surpasses all comment, and displays at once the perfection of sentiment, plan and composition. Some other statues, worthy of particular notice, in this hall, are a Thrower of the Disk; a Hermes, representing Tragedy; a statue of an Amazon, drawing her bow; and a colossal statue of a Triton, this latter discovered by our countryman Hamilton,[1] in the neighbourhood of Naples, and given by him to Pope Ganganalli. These are all, like the Laocoon, stolen from the Vatican.

The fourth compartment of the Gallery is termed the “Hall of Apollo,” ornamented with four superb pillars of red granite, stolen from a Cathedral in Italy. It contains twenty-seven statues, of which “The Apollo Belvidere,” that subject of delight to every tasteful eye, stands in a niche at the end of the hall—two sphinxes of oriental red granite, brought from the Vatican Museum, are placed on the steps which lead up to the statue of the Sun God. These steps and the platform on which the Apollo is fixed are of the most beautiful marble, and in the centre there are five squares of mosaic antique, representing animals in cars and other ornaments.

The pillars which ornament the niche were taken from the tomb of Charlemagne at Aix-la-Chapelle. The statue is preserved from too near approach by a handsome railing. The name of the sculptor of this statue is unknown. Giovanni Angelo di Montorsoli, pupil of Michael Angelo, restored the right arm and left hand, which were missing when the statue was discovered among the ruins of Antium.

It was fixed in the Belvidere of the Vatican by Pope Julius II., where for more than three centuries it excited the admiration of mankind, until, to use the language of the guide book provided by the Institute: “Un héros, guidé par la victoire, est venu l’en tirer pour la fixer à jamais sur les rives de la Seine.”

On the 16th Brumaire, year 9, the First Consul, Bonaparte, celebrated the inauguration of the Apollo by placing upon the pedestal of the statue the following inscription, engraved upon a bronze tablet:

“Le statue d’Apollon, qui s’élève sur ce piédestal, placé au Vatican par Jules II., au commencement du XVI. siècle, conquise l’an 5 de la République, par l’armée d’Italie,

Sous les ordres du Général Bonaparte,
A été fixée ici le 21 Germinal an VIII.
Première année de son Consulat,
Bonaparte, Ier Consul,
Cambacères, IIme Consul,
Lebrun, IIIme Consul.
Lucien Bonaparte, Ministre de l’Intérieur.”

HISTORICAL TOMBS

The thirty-six other statues, which decorate this hall, are all of great merit; a statue of Mercury, called the Belvidere Antinous, from the Vatican, is perhaps the finest and one of the most perfect remains of antiquity, this once stood by the Apollo in the Vatican Belvidere.

The Capitoline Venus is also exceedingly beautiful.

The sixth and last portion of this Museum is termed the “Hall of the Muses;” it contains twenty statues, every one of which was stolen from the magnificent gallery Pius VI. built as an addition or annex to the Vatican Museum. The members of the National Institute thus express themselves in the catalogue upon the contents of this hall:

“Since the revival of the arts, the admirers of antiquity have several times attempted to form collections or a series of the antique statues of the Muses; but none have proved so complete as that formed by the industry of Pius V., a collection which Victory has enabled us to transport to the National Museum.”

This chamber contains, besides the celebrated Nine Muses, heads of Bacchus, Hippocrates and a statue of the Cytherian Apollo, a Hermes and busts of Socrates, Virgil and Homer.

I have now mentioned the principal antiques contained in the six compartments of this Gallery, but were I to write a volume upon them I could give no adequate idea of their exquisite beauty and artistic merit.

XXX
MUSEUM OF FRENCH MONUMENTS

One of the earliest calamities which the intemperate zeal of her would-be reformers brought upon France was the entire confiscation of all ecclesiastical property, this property being placed at the disposal of the nation. Broken loose from the bonds of subordination, the people misinterpreted this decree, and in the effervescence of a wanton and licentious spirit demolished the sanctuaries of religion, persecuted their ancient pastors and disturbed the tranquil ashes of the dead.

The National Assembly was finally compelled to acknowledge its precipitate folly by ordering the committee which had charge of alienated property to take measures for the preservation of those monuments of art erected on the domains of the Church.

The municipality of the city of Paris nominated several literary men and artists who were to point out what books and monuments should be saved from destruction. These persons formed a “Commission des Monuments.” The desecrated convent “des Petits Augustins” was chosen for a deposit of sculpture and paintings and that of the “Capucins” in the Rue St. Honoré for books and manuscripts.

This was shortly before the actual and final downfall of the Monarchy. But when a few months later Paris was torn by strong convulsions and the Republic ushered in amidst shrieks of murder and falling ruins, it became the fashion to talk of nothing but philosophy and regeneration, while the demon of havoc made his devastating rounds.

An era of uproar, confusion, fierce fanaticism and mental darkness overspread France.

Science and learning were perverted to the vilest purposes; incendiaries and murderers, wearing the masks of patriots and philanthropists, deluged France with blood.

A man of mild and unassuming manners, of spotless purity of principle, of general and profound knowledge, and of inflexible perseverance, devoted the labours of his life to collect and preserve from the general wreck the monuments of his country. This man is Monsieur Lenoir, the founder and director of the Musée des Monuments Français.

WORK OF LENOIR

This excellent man traversed France in every direction to save and preserve the precious evidences of his country’s former exploits. Examining the tombs of the dead, amidst crackling flames and temples crushing to atoms, he rescued much priceless worth from the tempest of destruction.

Both my wife and myself consider it one of the happiest events of our lives to have been introduced to M. Lenoir and his lady. Grave, silent, modest and pensive, his character and manner in speaking of his work is that of an affectionate son who collects with tender care the ashes of a murdered parent.

Monsieur Lenoir was for fifteen years the pupil of Doyen, by whom he was presented to the municipality of Paris as a proper person to act as conservator of the depôt of monuments, which by a decree of the Assembly, January 4, 1791, was established in the convent des Petits Augustins. He retained this post through all the anarchy and fury of the years which followed. In many cases he was able to arrest the hands of folly employed in beating down statues and tearing to pieces valuable pictures and destroying the finest bronzes.

“From the Abbey de St. Denis,” says M. Lenoir, “the interior of which the flames seem to have consumed from the roof to the bottom of the graves, I have saved the magnificent mausoleums of Louis XII., François I., Henri II., Turenne and many more. I have collected such of the precious remains that I could restore, and I am already able to display those of François I. and Louis XII. in all their splendour. Happy shall I be if I succeed in making posterity forget the ravages of vandalism.”

When we consider the light which monuments throw upon chronology and history, it is strange to hear M. Lenoir met with multiplied objections from artists (such as David) against his preservation and accumulation of the monuments of the Middle Ages—monuments which they explained were of no service to art. Monsieur Lenoir met their objections by affirming that their presence was necessary to complete his series, and he also justly observed that nothing tends more to give a just notion of any art than the view of its progress and the opportunity of comparing distances between rudeness and refinement.

M. Lenoir collected into one establishment all paintings and statues which had any reference to the history of France. “Such an imposing mass of monuments of every period,” says he, “made me conceive the idea of forming an historical and chronological museum in relation to French art and French history, and, in despite of the malevolent and in the face of great opposition, my plan was favourably received by the Committee of Public Instruction of the National Convention, and on the 15th Germinal, year 4, the Museum was opened.”

M. Lenoir, after ten years of assiduous researches, is now able to display five centuries and also a sepulchral chamber, containing the fully restored tomb of François I.

This Museum embraces the sepulchral art of France, from the age of Clovis to the present time.

Here French and English artists may find models of costumes and arms of every age and rank in a regular series, from Clovis to Philip II. There seems little variation in dress. Rapid changes in costume and fashion appear only to have commenced after the return of the Crusaders.

We enter the Museum through the portico of the now demolished Château d’Anet (immortalised by Voltaire in his Henriade). In the first hall are the monuments of the Middle Ages; many, including that of Fredegonde and her husband Chilperic, have been taken from the church of St. Germains des Près.

The bones of Charlemagne, contained in a marble sarcophagus of Roman origin, were sent from Aix-la-Chapelle by Dervailly, one of the Republican Commissioners. The great conqueror, torn from his magnificent tomb, now lies in a Museum!

ST. DENIS AND BACCHUS

One of the most ancient stone coffins is that of an Abbot of St. Germains des Près, A.D. 990, in it his skeleton was found extremely well clothed in a robe of satin of a faded red colour, a long woollen tunic of purple brown, ornamented with an embroidery upon which several figures were wrought, slippers of an extremely well-tanned black leather served as shoes.

The southern gate of the Abbey of St. Denis, which is in this hall, is a most important specimen of early art. The large bas-relief in the middle represents the punishment of St. Denis and his companions Rusticus and Eleutherus.

Denis is the saint to whom the temple was dedicated; but, what is very remarkable, a sprig of vine, laden with grapes, is placed at his feet, precisely in the form as a badge of Dionysus or Bacchus. M. Lenoir says he cannot answer whether the priests who dedicated these temples considered Denis and Dionysus to be the same person, or whether by mere tradition they ordered that to be executed which would certainly characterise both. But it is certain that all the ornaments which decorate St. Denis are attributes of Bacchus. The vine, hunting and tigers appear; Bacchus is cut to pieces by the Maenades; Denis has his head cut off at Montmartre; Bacchus is placed in a tomb and bewailed by women; the body of Denis is collected by holy women, who weep over his remains and place them in a tomb; Bacchus rises again; Denis, after undergoing execution, rises again, picks up his head and walks. On this gate are two tigers, emblematical of the worship of Bacchus. It presents as well a chronology of thirty-six Kings of France.

On entering the hall which contains the monuments of the thirteenth century there are ceilings at angles, sprinkled with stars on a blue ground, supported by posts, rudely decorated. These ceilings are also adorned by the flowers of those times, three of which are emblems of the Evangelists, the others consist of the cabbage and the thistle in a variety of forms. The doors and the windows, constructed from the remains of a ruined building of the thirteenth century, which had been destroyed by the Jacobins, and which Lenoir collected at St. Denis, have been arranged according to the revised taste in architecture by the celebrated Montreau.

Three painted glass windows, representing moral subjects, and taken from the refectory of St. Germain des Près, shed a gloomy light upon the spot.

The tombs Louis IX. erected to his predecessors are only cenotaphs, merely large confines of hollowed stone, in which the body was placed and covered by another stone, the inscription, when there was one, being engraven on the inside. According to St. Foix the tombs of the Kings of the first race were small deep vaults of stone. On these vaults neither figures nor epitaphs were to be seen, as it was the inside that was engraven with inscriptions and laid out with magnificence. Charlemagne was originally buried in a sitting posture. His body after being enbalmed was seated on a throne of gold, clad in the Imperial dress, with the sword Joyeuse by its side. The head of the dead Emperor was ornamented with a golden chain in shape of a diadem. He held a globe of gold in one hand, and a New Testament was placed upon his knees. His gold sceptre and shield were hung on the wall opposite to him.

After the cave had been filled with perfumes, aromatics, and much treasure, it was shut up and sealed.

In the Hall of the Fourteenth Century are some very curious monuments, which show the improvement in the art of design, which the Crusaders brought back with them. A new species of decoration, the Arabian taste, was introduced into architecture. The heavy edifices of the former age gave way to more elegant buildings, and gilding and brilliant colours ornamented the churches. This hall is decorated with the ruins of the St. Chapelle in Paris, built about the year 1300. The Apostles, sculptured in stone of natural size, were taken from this chapel, and are remarkable for the naturalness of their expression and excellent execution. Their habits give an exact idea of the stuffs and embroidery then in fashion, the former of which being not unlike our Indian shawls. The mosaics which cover the ceilings and the walls of this hall were formed from materials taken from St. Denis. The painted windows in this hall are of the same century, and were taken from the “Celestines” and the “Bonshommes de Passy.”

TOMB OF LOUIS XII.

In the fifteenth century artists began to produce general plans, and to connect the calculations of their minds with a grand and careful execution. Gothic art in consequence disappeared. As Paris did not afford many palaces or ornamented houses of this century, M. Lenoir went several times among the monuments left by Cardinal d’Amboise, who employed in the decoration of his palaces Jean Juste, a sculptor, born at Tours, whom the Cardinal had sent at his own expense to Rome, for the purpose of studying the revived Grecian art.

The ceiling, windows, and in general the whole embellishment of this hall are composed on the type of the tomb of Louis XII., which stands in the middle of it, together with the materials brought from the Château de Gaillon, which has been lately demolished. The pillars which support the gates are a present to M. Lenoir from the Administrators of the Department of Eure et Loire, who, to M. Lenoir’s consternation, pulled down the portico of the church of the St. Père at Chartres in order to place its fragments at his disposal.

This portico was erected in 1509, and superadded to an ancient edifice built by Hildnard, a Benedictine monk, in 1170. Two bas-reliefs in this hall merit attention, one, representing God the Father in the midst of angels, was taken from the Cemetery of the Innocents. The other, from the church of St. Geneviève, represents the Pentecost. The violet and blue grounds, the gilded framework and the carmined legend are characteristic of the fifteenth century. Four marble medallions are worthy of careful notice, purchased from the ruined château of Gaillon. Anne of Brittany is represented as Minerva, Louis XII. as Mars, Gallas and Vespasian occupy the remaining medallions.

In this hall stands a bust of Joan of Arc by Beauvollet, after an ancient painting; this bust is placed beside that of Charles VII., whom she maintained on the throne of France. The Hall of the Sixteenth Century contains many interesting figures, and its glass windows are taken from Ecouen, Vincennes, Ault, and the Temple. The monument to the historian Philippe de Comines is an admirable work, and rests on a grand bas-relief, representing St. George and the Dragon. The tomb of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany, which occupies the centre of this hall, is a superb monument. Unfortunately this fine mausoleum has greatly suffered from the fury of the revolutionary fanatics.

Here are also the statues of François Ier, of Chancellor de l’Hôpital; Montaigne, Prieur, Diane de Poitiers, Philip Desportes the poet, Jean Goujon, the celebrated artist and sculptor, a magnificent monument erected to the Constable of France, Anne de Condé, and the tomb of the Valois, surmounted by statues of François Ier and his wife Claude.

The Hall of the Seventeenth Century contains a fine monument erected to the family of the Villeray; one to the celebrated historian de Thou, the statue of Louis XI., the chef d’œuvre of Girardon, containing the celebrated group in marble designed by Lebrun, 14 feet long and 6 feet broad, which forms the mausoleum of Cardinal Richelieu, the inscription bears: “Magnum disputandi argumentum.”

This admirable sculpture, which had previously been mutilated by anarchists who had forcibly entered the chapel, was afterwards injured by the revolutionary soldiers, who bayoneted M. Lenoir for opposing their destructive intentions; he still bears the scar of this wound on his hand.

Cardinal Mazarin’s monument of white marble, executed by Coyzevox, is equal in artistic merit to that of Richelieu. The Cardinal is represented on his knees.

EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY MONUMENTS

An admirable group in white marble by Girardon represents Louvois, the French Minister, and History in the form of a woman turning towards him and pointing to her book. The First Consul was attracted to this monument on his visit to the Museum, and gazed upon it a considerable time. When he was in the Hall of the Thirteenth Century he said to M. Lenoir: “Lenoir, vous me transportez en Syrie, je suis content.”

The fine statue of Louis XIV. which stood in the Place Vendôme, was destroyed in 1792, but there is here an exact representation in bronze.

Monsieur Lenoir has also re-erected one from the ruins of that which stood on the Place des Victoires. In this Hall of the Seventeenth Century are the busts of all the great men who figured during that period in France.

The Hall of the Eighteenth Century contains a vast number of subjects, but few of them are very remarkable.

Here are busts of Louis XVI. and his Queen, and of Brissac, who with the prisoners of Orleans was assassinated at Versailles. In the garden belonging to this institution an elysium is formed in which above forty statues are placed. Here and there on a mossy ground, pines, cypresses and poplars shroud these monuments, and funereal urns placed on the walls serve to diffuse an air of repose and melancholy over the whole. In this enclosure a sepulchral chapel to the memory of Abelard and Héloise has been formed out of part of the ruins of the Abbey of St. Denis, in order to show the style of architecture adopted in that age.

Much remains yet to be done by M. Lenoir, but he has already effected wonders, and without ostentation or bustle he has done more for France than she has had the gratitude to acknowledge. Notwithstanding he is extremely circumscribed in the sums allotted to him, being only allowed £1000 per annum, he is always collecting and is continually in advance for the benefit of the institution.

What a contrast does the life of this disinterested antiquarian present to that of the conduct of that gang of philosophical thieves belonging to the National Institute!

M. Lenoir related to me two curious circumstances connected with the taking up of the bodies of the Kings, Queens, Princesses and celebrated men who during the space of 1500 years had been buried in the Abbey of St. Denis, which act of horrid indecency was ordered to be executed by a special decree of the National Convention, for the sake of extracting the lead belonging to these tombs. On October 12, 1793, the workmen opened the tomb of Turenne and found the body of this great man in so perfect a state of preservation that neither were his features deformed nor his countenance altered.

M. Lenoir, who had an opportunity of examining it, stated that it resembled in every way the pictures and medallions of the hero.

The body of Henri IV. was in a perfect state of preservation and the features of his face unchanged.

A soldier who was present, moved by martial enthusiasm, threw himself upon the body and embraced it, and after a long silence of admiration cut off a long lock from the beard and exclaimed, “And I too am a French soldier, henceforth I will have no other mustachios!” And he placed it on his upper lip. “Now,” said he, “I am sure to conquer, and I march to victory!” Immediately after this he disappeared, and was never seen again in the town.

XXXI
THE NATIONAL LIBRARY

This establishment was founded in the fourteenth century by Charles the Wise, and consisted at first of about twenty volumes! the number of which naturally continued to increase rapidly as time went on. It has now been enriched by a multitude of books and manuscripts saved from the monasteries, collections seized from proscribed nobles, and plunder from the libraries of Italy. So it is now one of the completest in the world. The large building containing these treasures is in the Rue de Richelieu, now called the Rue de la Loi. It is under the direction of Messieurs Capperonier and van Praet. In the first room of the principal floor a long table extends nearly the whole length of the apartment, with benches placed on each side for the convenience of students. This room is lined with books from floor to ceiling.

CURIOUS MANUSCRIPTS

Before the French irruption into Italy the National Library consisted of 200,000 volumes, besides a large collection of manuscripts. It now contains 300,000 printed books, which are already arranged in five divisions, besides a vast number which Monsieur van Praet informed me had not been even examined. The library is disposed with judgment and knowledge. No catalogue has yet been published, but the directors are preparing one, with a suitable explanation respecting the principal authors and the names of the libraries from which the books were stolen.

Here are some very curious documents in manuscript relative to English history, well worthy of reference to any author desirous of treating of that subject. The celestial and terrestrial globes constructed by Coronelli are preserved in one of the wings of the building; they are thirty feet in diameter, their circles are gilded, the water is painted blue, the land white, and the mountains with a green ground shaded with brown. These are the largest globes in the world, they resemble air ballons, and I cannot imagine any other mode for a philosopher to use them than by putting himself in a little curule chair suspended by ropes, and in this manner making the tour of the universe.

The manuscripts exceed 80,000 in number, 30,000 of which are on the history of France and are called the Mazarin Gallery. The rest are in foreign and dead languages, many written on vellum and superbly illuminated. Many of these manuscripts contain most extraordinary specimens of the state of poetry and genius in ancient times. Among others here is this of Philippe d’Orleans, Comte de Vertus, who died in 1420, aged twenty-four.

Ballade.

Jeune gente plaisante et débonnaire,
Par un prière qui vaut commandement,
Chargé m’avez d’une ballade faire,
Si l’ai faite de cœur joyeusement;
Or, la veuillez recevoir doucement
Vous y verrez, s’il vous plait à la lire,
Le mal que j’ai, combien que vraiment,
J’aimasse mieux de bouche vous le dire.

Votre douceur m’a sçu si bien attraire,
Que tous vostre je suis entièrement
Très désirant de vous servir et plaire,
Mais je soffre mainte douloureux tourment,
Quand a mon gre je ne vous voi souvent
Et me déplaist quand me font vous l’escrire;
Car si fou je pouvois autrement
J’aimasse mieux de bouche vous le dire.

C’est par dangier mon cruel adversaire,
Qui m’a tenu en ses mains longuement.
En tous mes faits je le trouve contraire
Et plus se rit quand plus me voit dolent.
Si je voulais raconter pleinement
En cet escrit mon ennuyeux martyre
Trop long serois; pour certainement
J’aimasse mieux de bouche vous le dire.

Besides these manuscripts there are many treasures of inestimable value, particularly the cabinet of medals, a rich and magnificent collection, to which has been added the cabinets of medals and antiques taken from St. Geneviève, St. Germains des Près and the Petits Pères, besides a vast accession from the plunder of Italy. The late Abbé Barthélémy, author of the “Travels of Anacharnis,” had the superintendence of the cabinet of medals, and by his exertions several beautiful and rare additions were made to the original collection. A very fine bust of him stands at the extremity of the hall.

There is also a rich collection of engravings, amounting to more than 5000 volumes. It requires whole months to review and examine all the curiosities and beauties contained within this library, and as it is impossible to detail them without writing a volume, I consider the synopsis I have given sufficient to explain their value to the student of every nation.

XXXII
HUMANE INSTITUTIONS: THE HOSPITAL OF INVALIDES

OVERTHROW OF INSTITUTIONS

The French Revolution wrought as much harm to the cause of humanity as to letters, science, and art. I have, it is true, described certain brilliant institutions which the present Government has created, but they form the least substantial part of social order, and are in a sense but the holiday suit of the Republic.

It would be as wrong to judge the French nation by this splendid exterior as of a private family by the same rule. To form a correct judgment of the character of a man we should enter his dwelling, see him as a parent, husband or friend, and examine his domestic economy. To contemplate him driving in a chariot, and surrounded by glittering attendants, would give us no idea of his real situation.

Much as we may admire establishments which ornament and serve a nation, if haggard poverty and distress meet the eye at every turn we cannot but infer that the nation in which such things prevail has mistaken the true road to grandeur and public felicity.

I speak with regret, and without prejudice or passion, when I affirm that this is the case with the French Republic. They overthrew all their ancient national charitable establishments, and by so doing exposed a great portion of the community to misery and want. They destroyed wholesome institutions without making any provision for supplying their absence. They suppressed convents and monasteries under many pleas, the most specious of which was that they would put an end to mendicity by striking at indiscriminate charity, which was, they maintained, the root of indolence. The principle was good, but it was applied in an entirely unjustifiable manner. Those who formerly aided the poor and wretched were themselves driven to mendicity, and the poor, the ailing, the afflicted were left even without the hope of a resource.

Sensible of the alarming effect of these evils, which in a land where the sources of industry have been suspended for ten years, are absolutely terrific, the French Government and some worthy and humane private individuals have, during the last few months, seriously devoted their attention to the means of eradicating them.

So far the state of public finance has not admitted of the permanent establishment of any asylums for the deserving poor. A few which had been anciently endowed are still poorly maintained at the public expense, but the mass of the nation is without any provision whatever for the miserable.

There is, however, one happy exception. The Hospital of the Invalides retains its ancient excellence and lustre.

This institution, the illustrious monument of the gratitude of a Prince towards a people devotedly attached to him, is appropriated to such superannuated or wounded soldiers no longer fit for service. It will contain 5000 individuals, supported, clothed and fed at the expense of the nation. There are four large halls where they assemble to dinner; it was the wish of Louis XIV. that the aged or wounded warrior should live well during the remainder of his days. Therefore their daily allowance, besides an excellent dinner, at which there was always a bouillie (or good meat soup), was a pound and a half of bread and a quart of wine. This allowance is still continued.

INTERIOR OF THE INVALIDES

The edifice consists of fine courts, and a magnificent saloon called the Temple of Mars, in which are suspended as trophies all the standards taken during the late war. The dome that surmounts the centre of this Temple, 300 feet in elevation from the level of the ground and 50 feet in diameter, is a masterpiece of architecture; the cupola is decorated with paintings by Charles de la Fosse.

Four beautiful paintings represent the four quarters of the globe, and there is also a huge canvas upon which David has portrayed the triumph of man over religion and royalty. The Devil himself could not have executed a more infernal picture than is this work of the national painter (Member of the Institute). Man, displayed as a gigantic figure (stark naked), tramples on kings, priests, crowns, sceptres, crosses and rosaries; in one hand he holds a flaming torch, in the other a sword. The Goddess of Reason, tutelary genius of the Republic, majestically arrayed, smiles over her votary’s triumph. A multitude of other similar characters fill up the hellish group, and complete a picture of horror and iniquity.

By what fatal perversion of human nature, a temple, consecrated to valour, patriotism and merit, should have been selected as the depository of such a vicious production, I know not. But I declare I felt petrified with horror when I gazed upon it. It is strange that the rulers of France should have not already banished from the public gaze such a sign of their past apostasy and hatred for that religion they have lately found it convenient to once more profess.

To an Englishman who views the trophies which adorn this hall there is a reason for feelings of patriotic exultation. The banners of almost every European nation weep over the disasters of the valorous defenders. But only one solitary standard of Great Britain confesses to the chances of war.

All the plans of Vauban,[1] in relievo, of the different docks, harbours and fortifications of France were preserved here. They have now been removed to the Bureau of the Minister of War. It was from a cabinet in the Hôtel des Invalides, containing an excellent collection of military books and also plans for subjugating Egypt, conceived under the reign of Louis XIV., and which had lain there for whole generations untouched but not forgotten, that the Council of War procured the information which enabled Bonaparte to invade Egypt—an invasion he accomplished with the most marvellous secrecy and celerity.

This invasion, I know from the highest authority and those who are most intimately acquainted with him, he will again attempt whenever circumstances prove favourable to his enterprise.

The monument formerly erected at St. Denis to Marshal Turenne, which was saved from the Revolutionary vandals by Monsieur Lenoir, almost at the risk of his life, has been removed from the Museum, where it was at first placed, to the Temple of Mars in this Hospital, where it is now to be seen.

By a decree of the First Consul on the 1st of Vendemaire year 9, the body of Turenne,[1] which had been preserved by Lenoir in a secret tomb, was transported with great funeral pomp to the Invalides, where it was once more deposited in its ancient receptacle.

The car on which the body was laid was drawn by four general officers of the Republic; on arriving at the Invalides it was received by a salvo of artillery, after which Carnot, the Minister of War, pronounced the following funeral oration:

“Citizens! behold the body of Turenne the Great—a warrior dear to every Frenchman, a man whose name excites emotion in every virtuous bosom, and who should be to after ages a model of heroes!

“To-morrow we celebrate the foundation of the Republic. Let us initiate that festival by the apotheosis of all that is praiseworthy and illustrious in the past. This temple is allotted to all those who, in every age past and present, have displayed virtues worthy of the nation. Henceforward, O Turenne! thy manes shall dwell within these walls—they shall become naturalised among the founders of the Republic!

CARNOT’S PANEGYRIC OF TURENNE

“It is a sublime idea to place the mortal remains of a hero in the midst of warriors who trod in his steps. To the brave belong the ashes of the brave. After the death of a warrior, his remains have a right to be preserved under the safeguard of the warriors who survive him—to partake with them the asylum consecrated to glory.

“Praise be to the Government which strives to pay the debt of gratitude to former benefactors!

“Praise be to the chiefs of a warlike nation who are not ashamed to invoke the shade of Turenne!

“Turenne lived in an age wherein prejudice placed imaginary distinctions of rank above signal services. But in him noble rank disappeared before that conferred by his victories. France, Italy, Germany re-echoed with his triumphs, and the sublime eulogy pronounced after his death by Monticuculi was the true description of his virtues: A man is dead who was an honour to human nature!

“Ah! what more glorious title can I add to that of ‘Father,’ conferred on Turenne by his soldiers during his whole life?

“On the plains of Salzbach Turenne commanded the French army. Confident of victory, secure of position, he fell slain by a musket ball. Confidence and hope disappeared, and France was left to mourn.

“The Germans for many years left the spot untilled upon which he was killed, and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood considered it hallowed ground.

“The remains of Turenne were at first preserved in the Cemetery of Kings. The Republicans have taken it from this vainglorious oblivion, and have this day transferred his body to the Temple of Mars, where veteran warriors can daily repeat the history of his victories.

“Marble and brass decay in time, but this asylum of French warriors whom old age or wounds has deprived of the power of fighting, will exist from age to age. On the tomb of Turenne the veteran will shed tears of admiration and the youth of France perform his vows to the profession of arms. After embracing this monument and invoking the shade of Turenne, he will feel himself inspired by a holy enthusiasm.

“Had Turenne lived in our time, he would have been a Republican. The love of country was his actuating principle. His glory therefore must be identified with that of the heroes of the Republic; and it is in the name of the Republic my hands depose these laurels on his tomb.

“May the shade of the illustrious Turenne be sensible of this act of national government, dictated by a government which is only guided by principles of virtue.

“Citizens! let me not diminish the emotions which you feel at this tremendous and awful funeral solemnity. Language cannot describe what is now displayed before your senses. What shall I say of Turenne? Behold him! there he lies! Behold the sword grasped by his victorious hand! Behold also the fatal ball which snatched him from France and from the whole human race!”

Such was the discourse delivered by Carnot; not quite equal to the funeral oration of Pericles, but la la for a philosopher of the National Institute!

Had Turenne lived in our time he might possibly have proved as great a rascal as any in the late Directorate.

Maréchal Turenne possessed military genius in a transcendent degree, but he must also by every dispassionate inquirer be condemned as a bad man, a worse citizen, a rebel and an incendiary. He began his career as a Maréchal de France with an act of base ingratitude, perfidy and treason towards his Sovereign and the laws of his country.

No sooner had he been raised to the rank of Maréchal than he suffered himself to be prevailed upon by an intriguing woman, the Duchess of Longueville (of whom, although she made a jest of his passion, he was desperately enamoured), to persuade the army which he commanded to revolt against the infant King and his mother, the Regent.

CAREER OF TURENNE

Being unsuccessful in this attempt, he quitted the army a fugitive and a Bonaparte, and from General to the King of France he became General of Don Estevan de Gomora, this enemy of his King and country, by whom he was defeated at Revel by French troops.

With respect to his policy it was merciless.

His glorious German campaign was achieved by inflicting unheard-of calamities upon the defenceless inhabitants. After the battle of Sintzheim he laid waste with fire and sword the Palatinate, a level and fertile country, full of rich cities and prosperous villages.

From his castle at Mannheim, the Elector Palatine beheld two cities and twenty-five villages burnt before his eyes. In the first emotion of resentment this unhappy Prince wrote a letter to Turenne, filled with bitter reproaches and defying him to single combat.

Turenne made a cool and ambiguous answer, conveying an empty compliment.

In the same cold blood he destroyed all the ovens and cornfields of Alsace, and afterwards permitted his cavalry to ravage Lorraine. Turenne acted throughout this campaign contrary to the orders of his Government, who desired him to treat the conquered provinces with lenity.

But to return to the Philosophical Tribune of France. The most curious part of the ceremony consisted in the tears of Carnot! He actually!! Carnot shed tears!!!

I cannot help thinking this as a most ludicrous instance of the ceremonial.

Instead of sounding the praises of the present despotism of France, Carnot might have recited the following lines intended to have been inscribed on the pedestal of the tomb of Turenne in St. Denis:

Turenne a son tombeau parmi ceux de nos rois,

C’est le fruit glorieux de ces fameux exploits.

On a voulu par-là couronner sa vaillance
Afin qu’aux siècles à venir
On ne fit point de difference
Entre porter la couronne ou de la soutenir.

When we reflect upon the melancholy catastrophe which has befallen the monuments of the most distinguished Frenchmen, it is to be considered a fortunate circumstance that the mausoleum of Turenne was rescued from the general devastation. As the Abbey of St. Denis is totally destroyed and there is no longer a place for the illustrious dead, except the Pantheon, in which their bodies would be commingled with those of the ruffians of the Republic, the Temple of Mars is undoubtedly the most honourable asylum for the body of one who, notwithstanding his faults, was perhaps the greatest General of France.

The Hospital of the Invalides maintains its pre-eminence over every other charitable institution of France.

The funds for the disbursement of its expenses are paid with great exactitude, and its internal organisation is conducted with exactitude and decorum.

Had other institutions of France, not less useful, been maintained with equal scrupulousness, my pen would not have found an opportunity of portraying the wickedness and folly of a people whose history during the last ten years is nothing but a disgusting record of rapine, murder and impiety.

XXXIII
HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued SOUP ESTABLISHMENTS

During the last winter (1801–1802) the distress of the lower orders rose to such a height that it became necessary to open subscriptions for the distribution of soup to the poor. A committee was formed for the purpose, and this committee distributed 164,000 rations of soups, besides what was sold from different furnaces, established by voluntary contributions.

The committee commenced their useful labours with the names of only one hundred subscribers. The price of each subscription is eighteen francs or fifteen shillings and ninepence sterling, and any person is at liberty to take as many subscriptions as he thinks proper. In consideration of every subscription the subscriber receives 240 bonuses of soup from any establishment he may prefer, or he may leave the disposal of them to the committee.

HUMANITY OF BONAPARTE

Madame Bonaparte, the wife of the First Consul, who is a most benevolent, charitable and kind-hearted woman, gave 600 francs towards the establishment of a furnace in her division.

The committee solicited the generosity of the public functionaries, “Not because they are wealthy, but because as the greater part of them were known for their philanthropy, their example would encourage others to subscribe.” The result of this appeal to these rich philanthropists who fatten upon the blood of the people was somewhat ludicrous, considering the small subscriptions it drew forth. The Senate granted a subsidy of 1500 livres, or £60 sterling; the Council of State took forty-six subscriptions, about £35; the Bank of France, 60, about £40; the Mont de Piété, 20, about £14; and the officers of the Consular Guard, 84, making a total of about £252!

The First Consul generously put down his name for a 1000 subscription, which would have amounted to £787 sterling. But there was no security for his payment except his inclination; his servile vassals, however, boasted of his magnificence, and the Commissioners who drew up the report on the distribution of the soup broke forth into the following apostrophe:—“Our eyes are turned with complacency on the 1000 subscription of the First Consul. The Conqueror of Marengo has made humanity the companion of glory. His triumphant hand has repaired the edifice of social happiness; this hero, who seemed to have attained the summit of perfection and grandeur, has proved that a good action may make him still mount, and lift him above sublimity itself!”

Unluckily for the trumpeters of this “astonishing man” this hero who has made humanity the companion of glory has not to this hour paid one sou of the thousand subscription to which he signed his name and entered into a solemn engagement.

In the report made by Cadet de Vaux to the Minister of the Interior it is stated—“Of all the branches of polite economy the least advanced among us is public beneficence. Formerly there was an organised system of charity, but now unhappily this branch of our administration is defective. When there were clergy resident in every parish, their profession gave them the privilege of asking charity from the rich and of penetrating into the secret wants of the poor, and they therefore possessed much greater opportunities of doing good than does the present Board of Public Assistance, notwithstanding its activity and zeal. Among the religious orders some corporations were distinguished for their zeal in affording relief to the poor, particularly the Sisters of Charity, who devoted their whole lives to the most fatiguing details of charitable benevolence!”

These respectable Associations no longer exist, but it is under consideration to permit the re-assembling of the dispersed communities.

In France at this time there are neither parochial rates nor workhouses such as we have in England. For idle, disorderly or viciously disposed persons no midway exists between the high road and the prison, and no kind of provision exists which affords employment to persons who, from sickness, misfortune, or lack of employment, have been thrown out of work. Hence the poverty of a French pauper is the consummation of wretchedness; rags, filth and disease waste his constitution and destroy his body, while despair for ever settles on his soul. If he have strength enough to carry a musket he is instantly transported into a soldier; and if this means of subsistence fail, his only alternative is to steal or to become a beast of burden, performing labour that in other countries is only executed by horses and asses.

But miserable as he is, the lot of the female beggar is infinitely worse. Objects of loathsome corruption and horrible aspect, they seem planted in the streets of this capital, only to laugh to scorn the Revolution, and to rebuke the greedy and the sumptuous magnificence of the upstart. As you traverse the streets they follow you, conjuring you in the name of God, and, with entreaties which would melt a heart of flint, implore you to give them a little charity.

The charitable are deprived of the power of discriminating; they must attend to the cries of beggary or submit to be pursued for half a mile by the same forlorn wretch, imploring for mercy and pity. This is indeed a wretched state of society, yet we are told the Revolution was the work of philosophers, made for the benefit of the people to dispel the darkness of their prejudices, and to remove all the moral and physical evils under which they groaned before the advent of freedom.

XXXIV
HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued
LA SALPÊTRIÈRE. HÔTEL DIEU. HÔPITAL DE JESUS, DE LA CHARITÉ, DE LA PITIÉ. THE FOUNDLING SOCIETY

HOSPITALS

La Salpêtrière, before the Revolution, was a prison for females; since that event it has been converted into an ordinary prison, an infirmary, and at length a hospital. It is an immense building, extremely well situated near the river, and is now appropriated as a receptacle for girls, above 1500 of whom are maintained in it. I am sorry to say I can say little in favour of its comfort or cleanliness.

The Hôtel Dieu, changed into Hôtel de l’Humanité by the Revolutionists, is an infirmary for the sick and diseased. It will contain 4000 people.

The Hospital of Jesus is not upon so large a scale. The Hospital of Charity is appropriated exclusively for males. The Hôpital de la Pitié is somewhat similar to our parish charity schools, for the maintenance and instruction of poor boys; this hospital is under very good discipline. The Hospital of the Trinity of St. Sulpice and of the Incurable are well regulated, particularly the latter, where the utmost attention and humanity are shown to its miserable inhabitants.

The Foundling Hospital, now called that of La Maternité, overflowed with little helpless infants during those periods of the Revolution when the holy rites of marriage were treated with derision, and licensed vice was the order of the day. Consequently the number of foundlings ever since the accession of the Corsican hero still exceeds that of all Europe.

This establishment embraces two objects, provision for lying-in women and maintenance for foundlings.

I can dwell with complacency and pleasure upon the advantages of this hospital, and I am glad to be able to praise its excellent management.

It is divided into two compartments, one for the reception of pregnant women, who are received into this house during the eighth month, upon their presenting themselves for admission, and are allowed to remain until a proper time has elapsed after their delivery. The second compartment is allotted to those children who have been exposed or abandoned by their parents. Nothing can be more interesting than the spectacle of so many infants in cradles, arranged in lines. They are put into the hands of wet nurses belonging to the institution, until women out of the country can be found to take charge of them in their own homes. Each wet nurse in the institution has care of two infants, her own and a foundling.

This establishment has supplied the place of that which was in pre-Revolution days called l’Hospice des Enfants Trouvés; a charity which owes its origin to the efforts of S. François de Paul.

It is a happy idea to blend the principles of the former institution with a provision for poor lying-in women, who formerly in their hour of labour had to resort to the Hôtel Dieu and be delivered amongst the sick.

The building for these women is part of the house once occupied by the Society of the Oratorians.

OLD FOUNDLING HOSPITAL

It is spacious and airy and has very large galleries, leading to the respective apartments, in each of which not more than six or seven beds are prepared.

The children are accommodated in the ci-devant Abbey of Port Royal—a convent formerly occupied by nuns. During the days of proscription and massacre, this edifice was converted into a prison. The passages were blocked up, daylight shut out, and circular walls raised. The revolutionary demoniacs changed the name of Port Royal into that of Port Libre.

Whilst it was used as a Foundling Hospital, 500 infants, 200 wet nurses, belonging to the house, 200 women either expecting a child or having already laid in, and forty sick persons were indiscriminately crowded together, besides a multitude of attendants and the apothecary. The multitude of partitions impeded the circulation of the air and retained the offensive effluvia which proceeded from this multitude of children, always clothed in dirty linen. There was not one apartment of the building through which a pure draught of air passed.

It was difficult to inspect so many dark rooms detached from each other, it frequently happened that two women who had just become mothers slept in the same bed. A general cleansing and whitewashing of the place was unknown. The institution was burdened with children left upon the hands of the charity, for the country nurses having been paid with assignats or paper money and thus deprived of the full value of their wages, nurses would not now offer themselves. The great influx of children required a proportionate number of house nurses, and hence arose the impossibility of selecting them, the necessity of complying with all their demands and a great want of management.

The food and the linen, in consequence of the low ebb to which the credit of the house was sunk, were left to be provided by contractors. The nurses had no clothes found them, pregnant women could get none, and the infants were not even provided with linen which is an absolute necessity. These evils resulted from the prodigal waste of public money which during the Directorship was diverted from its proper objects to gorge the insatiate appetite and hungry rapacity of the officials of the Government. Indeed, I am in possession of unanswerable vouchers to prove that to this circumstance (i.e., public and private plunder) the present shameful and dilapidated condition of the hospitals is to be attributed. So forcible are the representations of the Consular precepts on this subject that many go so far as to boldly assert that the grants made for the support of the hospitals have been scandalously diverted from their original destination and lavished without account on less necessary purposes.

However, in 1801 the Council General of the Institution were enabled to create and carry out a most necessary series of reforms.

The first duty they had to discharge was to secure and regulate the payment of the country nurses.

Only £250 was due to these women, yet even this was paid with difficulty. This debt has now been discharged, and this has been attended with a very striking effect. The infants have been sent to nurse much sooner, and the amount of deaths has in consequence greatly diminished; so many house nurses have not been required, so those who are employed are now selected with care and kept under a regular management; persons who were of no use whatever to the Institution have been discharged. Attention has been directed to salubrity, economy and supply of clothing and linen. The small outbuildings, which were in a ruinous state, have been pulled down; the partitions which divided the wards taken away; the number of windows increased, and cleanliness introduced over the whole hospital.

Walls have been close scraped and afterwards whitewashed; rotten timbers have been repaired, and the unserviceable and antiquated window frames renewed and replaced.

“MATERNITÉ” CHARITY

The inspectors observed that a quantity of the provisions disappeared, and the people of the house were constantly complaining they had not enough. The truth being that they sold the victuals supplied to them.

To remedy this evil refectories have been established, where they all eat together. In the lying-in part of the hospital the food is now abundant, wholesome and varied. The children’s kitchen, in which milk, panade and broth are prepared, is under especial inspection. The place of apothecary has been suppressed. Plenty of linen is provided for the children. The servant girls and house nurses as well as the women patients are now well supplied with clothes.

All double bedsteads have been removed.

Each woman and each nurse has a separate bed, and the latter two cribs, one for each of the infants they suckle. The bedsteads and cribs have been repainted, and the vermin which used to infect them has disappeared.

Two next excellent regulations have been adopted which deserve notice. The women near their time were formerly suffered to be without employment, in consequence of which they fell into a languor and lowness of spirits, frequently not disassociated from bodily indisposition. Work-rooms have now been established where they are employed in sewing and embroidery under the direction of a proper person belonging to the house. The charity might convert their earnings to the benefit of the hospital, but instead it pays them for items, the intention being to encourage them to moderate work, so that when they quit the hospital they may not be distressed by the painful uncertainty of not knowing where to search for the subsistence of the morrow.

The second regulation establishes a course of midwifery for female pupils, from all the departments. There were generally four pupils under the chief midwife, whom she instructs in the practice of midwifery for three months. This has just given rise to a public school of midwifery in the Hospital of Maternity, to which are invited as many midwives as can be procured from the several Departments. The theoretical part is to be taught by M. Bandelocque, principal accoucheur, and the practical by Madame la Chapelle, principal midwife. The school will open three months hence, on August 23. France has long stood in need of such an establishment on which the lives of so many individuals depend.

All these improvements, which have so entirely changed this vitally important establishment, are to be attributed to the energy and determination of one man, whose name deserves to be remembered and revered by future generations of Frenchmen. This individual is Monsieur Camus, member of the General Council of Hospitals.

Citizen Bailly, the steward and housekeeper, has also greatly contributed towards the establishment of order and the direction and accomplishment of the several kinds of work.

I hope I have not been too prolix in these details, but it is impossible and unjust to applaud or to censure institutions without entering into very minute particulars respecting them; besides which, as the above statements have been privately but officially communicated to me, I cannot help thinking they have some public interest. With a very few exceptions the account of one hospital in Paris contains the history of every other.

By an exposure of the disgraceful decay into which one of the most important charitable establishments of old France was allowed to fall, when it came under the administration of the friends of the people, some conception can be formed as to the amount of interest the French Government during the last ten years has bestowed upon such subjects.

At this moment the very existence of all charitable institutions in France (I do not except the hospitals) depends entirely on the personal industry of the few good and virtuous men and women who adorn the commonwealth.

SISTERS OF CHARITY REQUIRED

All the hospitals and other institutions for the protection of the poor of Paris are maintained by the Government, the private endowments having all been confiscated during the Revolution. It is, therefore, just and proper that the conduct of that Government should be fully investigated, when complaints resound from every quarter, against its inattention to the fundamental principles of the establishment.

I conclude these remarks by presenting the observations and requisitions of the present Prefect of the Department of the Seine:

“Re-establish the former Sisters of Charity, place them at the head of the hospital department, authorise them to choose others, that this useful institution may be perpetuated. Employ in sedentary labours the old men and the infirm; the produce of their work may be divided between themselves and the hospital. Provide for the necessities of the hospitals by securing on them national property equal in value to the amount of what they formerly possessed.

“This restitution will supply the place of assessments, whose produce is insufficient, in the meantime let the produce of these assessments be paid into the treasuries of the hospitals in order that they may never be diverted from their primitive destination. Establish houses of instruction for the reception of foundlings, when they have passed their infancy, and habituate them to industry.

“Repair the buildings. Provide linen. Discharge the debts of the hospitals, and confide to a single administration the direction of the succour to be afforded to the whole department, and let it be distributed in proportion to the population of the Commune.”

XXXV
HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued
NATIONAL INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE ABBÉ SICARD. THE SAUVAGE D’AVEYRON

The Abbé Sicard[1] is a man who, as a classical, humane and scientific instructor of the deaf and dumb, inspires the liveliest emotions of admiration and respect. I was present at one of his lectures. The abbé commenced by explaining the cause of dumbness to be the privation of hearing (which precludes the possibility of imitating sounds)—and not any absolute defect in the organ or instrument of speech. Such have been the labours of the immortal Abbé de l’Epée and his successor, the Abbé Sicard, that they have actually taught deaf and dumb persons how to communicate by speech, as well as signs, with the rest of humanity.

They have taught some to pronounce aloud any sentence written for them. This pronunciation is the effect of a compelled mechanical utterance, produced by the abbé placing his lips and mouth in certain positions and appearing to the scholar to make certain motions, which motions necessarily bring forth a sound more or less like that required.

The degree of force which it is necessary the scholar should apply to pronounce distinctly any word is regulated by the abbé pressing his arm gently, moderately or strongly.

THE LITTLE SAVAGE

I attended a lecture at which the Abbé Sicard showed to an audience the first mode of communication with the deaf and dumb. A boy about thirteen years of age, whom the abbé had not even seen, was sent out of the institution. A sheet of paper was brought on which were painted many of the most common objects, such as a horse, a carriage, a bird, a tree, and so on. Upon the abbé pointing these pictures out to the boy, the latter appeared delighted to show by signs that he fully comprehended the representation. These signs, attentively observed by the abbé, formed the basis of future conversation. To prove that speech is merely a matter of imitation, the abbé produced a girl about seventeen years old, who had lost her hearing at the age of six. She had, therefore, acquired a small vocabulary of words and ideas such as might be expected from a child of six years of age. Her mode of enunciation was that of a young child. She pronounced “chat” “sa.” There had been a dog in the house where she passed her infancy, whose name was Toutou—she remembered the word and called every dog Toutou. This girl was a curious instance of the primary effects of education.

At this lecture the abbé stated a curious occurrence. He was once told that a blind man, on being asked to describe the sound of a trumpet, said he believed it to be of a red colour. He himself asked one of his deaf and dumb pupils to define his idea of scarlet, the pupil immediately replied: “The blast of a horn.”

As soon as the lecture was ended, our party proceeded to the top of the building in order to take a peep at the “Sauvage d’Aveyron.” When M. P——, the gentleman who introduced us to Abbé Sicard, made the proposal I was not aware that he was going to show us anything human. Accordingly I followed close at his heels, and after I had entered the room, perceiving only a man, a woman and a boy, I inquired for the savage. “This is he,” said M. P——, pointing to the boy, “Kiss him.” And without waiting for me to recover myself, he actually pushed me on to the lad, and in this attitude of kissing I was discovered when the ladies entered the apartment, the little savage holding me at the same time by the arms. I was not a little confused at this involuntary fraternal buss, which I was obliged to make, and which has been ever since a subject of merriment.

However, the savage no sooner saw ladies at the door than he sprang from me, went to the window, and, after looking out for a few moments, turned suddenly round and moved (for it could not be called walking) very fast up and down the room, without seeming to pay them the least attention.

I had by this time recovered myself, and grasped him firmly by the arm; but he took no manner of notice of me. He had a vacant countenance, but not an idiotic one. He broke out in a most extraordinary manner, however, a few minutes later, stamping with both his feet, rolling his body from side to side, and howling in a strange and dreadful tone.

This savage phenomenon was found in the forest of Aveyron, and here his history begins and ends. During the two years of his captivity he has not made any progress in knowledge or speech, and though in the possession of his senses he does not seem to have a human idea.

Civil society has no charm for him, and nothing has been known to attract his attention. Every effort has been made to impress him with some kind of sentiment. A good deal has been published respecting this “child of nature,” as he has been foolishly nicknamed by the Parisian wits; and the wretched condition of his mind has furnished several philosophists with arguments in which they have attempted to reason away the understanding and virtue of mankind. But this is a ridiculous mode of reasoning, and what Dr. Paley[1] has said in his Elements of Moral Philosophy, respecting Peter the Wild Boy of Germany, may be applied with equal force to the Wild Boy of France.

RENTE VIAGÈRE

The conversations into which I have been led in consequence of my visit to this young savage have been very interesting, chiefly because they were carried on with avowed atheists, members of the National Institute. It is really astonishing to what extremities they push their subtle sophisms; and while they affect to discard everything that is not material and appurtenant to this globe, they are continually soaring extra flammentia mœnia mundi.

In a solemn discussion I had the other day with a man who is considered one of the first natural philosophers in the world, he told me gravely that Lagrange, Lacroix and several members of the Institute had sent a German to the interior of Africa to request he would make the experiment of uniting an ourang outang to a negro woman, and that he looked forward with eager expectation to the result of these nuptials!

Such a project is worthy of the philosophers of the National Institute.

XXXVI
ECONOMICAL ESTABLISHMENTS. PROGRESSIVE ANNUITY FUND. SOCIETY FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIONAL INDUSTRY

A plan is in preparation for the establishment of an annuity fund. It is to be named Caisse des Placemens en Viager. It is to be established at 440 Rue Saint Méry and 435 Rue du Renard Saint Méry. Its motto is surety, stability, simplicity. Those who hold shares are to enjoy a progressive annuity. This annuity is paid according to their ages, and not to their shares; hence all the holders of shares who have attained any particular age receive the same rate of interest whatever may have been the price of their shares. The minimum of rate for the first age is six livres per share, and is assigned to the first class only; the primitive rate of the subsequent classes rises gradually to the twelfth, which comprehends the holders of shares who have attained their sixtieth year. By reckoning from the rate assigned to the first class, the annuity increases at fixed epochs, and rises by thirty-five gradations to the maximum of 5000 livres, which belongs to all the classes, and is paid to all holders of shares who have attained the age to which this last term of the progression relates. All the intermediate terms determine equally what is to be paid, without any distinction to the holders of shares in each class, in proportion as they arrive at the different ages which correspond to each rate of annuity. Those holders are divided into twelve classes, and each class into twelve series, each of which has a separate and distinct account.

At first view this plan seems to resemble a Tontine, but it is a very different thing. A Tontine divides annually amongst the survivors the shares of those deceased, but in this fund the probabilities of human life have been calculated, and by making them agree with the decrease of the capital invested, which together with their interest serve to augment the annuities, the movement of the funds and the death of the holder of shares are so combined that every holder knows at any given point the benefits he will derive at the different periods of his life.

The principle of the establishment consists “in an equality of annuities, payable to the same ages, whatever may have been the time of investment of the share, combined with an equality in the number of survivors among such holders of shares as have attained the same age, whatever may have been the time of becoming such.”

The holders have been distributed into twelve classes, the first of which has been fixed at 3200. It comprises only such individuals as are under a year old, and serves as a regulation of the decreasing numbers of each subsequent class. Thus the numbers decreasing of the shares in each class are as follows:

First | 3200
Second | 2400
Third | 2242
Fourth | 2102
Fifth | 1940
Sixth | 1792
Seventh | 1648
Eighth | 1438
Ninth | 1200
Tenth | 1020
Eleventh | 838
Twelfth | 656

RENTE VIAGÈRE

In order to make the annuities equal for all ages it has been necessary only to reproduce in each class, at the age wherein each of the subsequent classes are introduced, an operation which consists simply in dividing this capital, the same for all the classes which have attained the same ages, by the number of shares in the class in question, which number is the same as that to which all former classes are reduced.

The twelve classes comprise from one year to sixty-five years; each class contains different periods of five, six, or seven years; all the individuals comprehended under these periods are considered as being of the same age, and paid as such until the extinction of the amount to which they belong. The total number of shares cannot exceed 245,712, and the prices of shares in the respective classes are thus regulated:

Prices of Shares.

| | Livres. | Centimes.
1. | Those who have not completed their first year | 140 | 0
2. | Those who have not completed their eighth year | 199 | 75
3. | From 8 to 13 years of age | 223 | 26
4. | „ 13 to 18 „  „ | 242 | 39
5. | „ 18 „ 24 „  „ | 260 | 91
6. | „ 24 „ 30 „  „ | 279 | 98
7. | „ 30 „ 36 „  „ | 301 | 52
8. | „ 36 „ 43 „  „ | 335 | 65
9. | „ 43 „ 50 „  „ | 383 | 28
10. | „ 50 „ 55 „  „ | 427 | 27
11. | „ 55 „ 60 „  „ | 479 | 84
12. | „ 60 „ 65 „  „ | 552 | 84

These shareholders receive a progressive annuity per share as follows:

Annuity.

| | Livres. | Centimes.
1. | Until 8 years of age | 6 | 0
2. | From 8 to 13 years of age | 8 | 0
3. | „ 13 to 18 „  „ | 10 | 0
4. | „ 18 „ 24 „  „ | 12 | 0
5. | „ 24 „ 30 „  „ | 13 | 0
6. | „ 30 „ 36 „  „ | 14 | 0
7. | „ 36 „ 43 „  „ | 16 | 0
8. | „ 43 „ 50 „  „ | 19 | 0
9. | „ 50 „ 55 „  „ | 23 | 0
10. | „ 55 „ 60 „  „ | 28 | 0
11. | „ 60 till death | 34 | 0

There is no limit to the number of shares a person may hold. Each class is to be closed as soon as the fixed number of shares shall have been completed.

As soon as a series of each class is closed, a new one will be opened, to be closed in its turn when the number of its shares shall be completed.

When 144 series of a class are closed, no further investments will be admitted. Besides the above annuity, the four last survivors of a class and of each series will divide between them the four-fifths of the residue of their account in proportion to the number of shares belonging to them, the remaining fifth belonging to the administration. The object of this institution, like the one I have described at Chaillot, is to make a comfortable provision for old age, by giving encouragement to a habit of economy. It is open to foreigners as well as to Frenchmen.

The Society for the Encouragement of National Industry is held at the Louvre and is open to all the world. Any person may be admitted a member on being presented by a member, received by the Council of Administration, and on paying annually at least a sum of thirty-six livres. The object of this society is to offer prizes for the invention, improvement and execution of machines or processes, advantageous to agriculture, arts and manufactures, to diffuse information respecting agriculture, arts and manufactures and to make experiments in order to ascertain the utility of new inventions and to afford pecuniary assistance to artists whose personal poverty prevents them being able to try the effects of their inventions.

The administration of this society is composed of men of first-rate ability, and is divided into five distinct committees: The Committee of Mechanical Arts, the Committee of Commerce, the Committee of Agriculture and those of Economical and Chemical Arts.

XXXVII
THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE SEINE. GENERAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF AGRICULTURE IN FRANCE

AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY

Of all the institutions in Paris, the Agricultural Society afforded me most satisfaction. It is unexceptionable and praiseworthy in a high degree, and partakes of the innocence and simplicity of rural economy. The formation of such an establishment in such a city as Paris is an anomaly in politics, and, extraordinary to say, the members are nearly all men of good character, fortune and talents.

This Society supplies the place of the old Royal Society of Agriculture. Its members are limited to sixty resident in the Department of the Seine, and not more than 150 Associates, one of whom at least is chosen from each Department. It also elects foreign Associates. The Society assembles for the present at the Préfecture de la Seine in the Place Vendôme. I was present at the last meeting, and sixteen members were there, including my excellent friend Grégoire; also François de Neufchâteau, Huzard, Parmentier, Silvestre, the Secretary and others. It was with extreme pleasure I perceived the zeal manifested by all the members of the Society for the promotion of the great and important science of agriculture. In old France the business of the husbandman was considered the lowest and most grovelling form of vassalage. The order of nature and of sound policy was thus reversed.

But agriculture in France may now be said to be progressive, and if it be allowed time and be spared from vexation it will truly enrich the Republic. When we take into consideration the immense extent of France, the variety of its climate and the fertility of its soil, together with the vast resources it contains, one cannot avoid looking with affection on an establishment so well adapted to collect into one focus the experiments, details and improvements, native and foreign, by which these natural advantages may be rendered more politically beneficial to the country.

The condition of the labouring classes of France has so far not been in the least bettered by the Revolution; they are yet in the same abject state for which they were heretofore distinguished. That mutual hatred which existed between the inhabitants of the population of town and country still prevails; notwithstanding that liberty and equality have been written in characters of blood all over France. The Agricultural Society are endeavouring to connect together the labourer and the artisan, by pointing out their reciprocal obligations to each other, and by giving rewards to such persons as shall point out the most effective methods of rendering their common exertions serviceable to the State. A variety of publications, some ingenious and lively, others grave and argumentative, have been circulated to show the immense importance of rural economy to a State, and to exalt the character of the agriculturist.

The members of the Agricultural Society are well aware of the many difficulties which they have to encounter, and the obstinate prejudices they must remove, before they can hope to bring the rural economy of France to that point of perfection of which it is susceptible. A great obstacle in the way of agricultural improvement in France is the astonishing multitude and diversity of local customs, which even the violence of the Revolution has failed to alter much less eradicate.

AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY

Upon the whole, notwithstanding the present unfavourable appearance of the general state of husbandry in the Republic, I entertain little doubt that a peace of ten years will wonderfully alter the face of things. The means of giving efficacy to the zeal and ardour of the French I am sensible are wanting, nevertheless so long as zeal prevails a well-founded hope exists that in defiance of the poverty and extravagance of the Government, much will be done by the people themselves. Unfortunately a general sentiment is at this time predominant in France that nothing can be done or undertaken without the Government. It is true the Government listens with attention to every scheme, but their interest appears to go no further. The only way to prevent all things from going to decay is by continually aiming to better them in some respect or other, and to afford an attentive ear to every project for that purpose. It must frequently happen that many of those projects will be chimerical, but men who expose themselves and desert the common and certain roads of gain in pursuit of advantages for the public and not for themselves, must necessarily have something odd and singular in their characters. It is the character of pride and laziness to reject all offers, as it is that of weakness and credulity to listen to all without distinction. Cromwell, partly from his circumstances, but more from his genius and disposition, received daily a number of proposals which were often most useful, and often remote from probability and good sense. But he made a signal use of many things of this kind.

Colbert spent much of his time in hearing every sort of scheme for the extending of commerce, the improvement of agriculture and the arts; and spared no pains or expense to put them in execution, and bountifully rewarded and encouraged their authors. By these means France advanced during the reign of Louis XIV. and under this Minister more than it had done for a couple of centuries, and by these means also in the midst of wars, which brought France and the rest of Europe almost to destruction, amidst all the faults in the royal character and many errors of his Government, a seed of industry and enterprise was sown, which on the first respite of the public calamities, and even while they oppressed the nation, rose to produce that flourishing internal and external wealth and power for which France was afterwards distinguished.

XXXVIII
THE POST OFFICE. HALLS OF THE LEGISLATIVE BODIES. COURTS OF JUSTICE. THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON REVIVED

Any person who has paid a visit to our General Post Office in Lombard Street, and is acquainted with the extraordinary bustle united to the utmost precision visible there, would think, should he happen to alight on a sudden in the Rue Coqueron without knowing in what part of the world he was, that the Post Office therein was that of some small trading town, instead of the capital of the greatest nation on earth.

Should he judge of the population by the revenue of each place, he would conclude Great Britain contained some 100,000,000 souls and France not above 3,000,000.

It does not require much skill in political economy to discover the causes of this disparity.

Commercial nations have a greater number of artificial wants and a most extensive circle of correspondents. To them the expense of postage is no burthen, it is a source of profit. A merchant therefore exults in the number of his letters. Hence the duties of postage are never paid with reluctance. You would never see in the General Post Office of such countries, piles of returned letters sufficient to supply a bonfire. Amsterdam, at the period of its commercial prosperity, received more letters in one day than the citizens of Paris in a week. I will now compare the London and Paris Post Offices, and this comparison is really an entertaining one.

I wrote to the Mayor of Chatillon in La Vendée an important letter, requiring a reply. Consequently I was obliged to go frequently to the General Post Office in order to make inquiries for it.

IRREGULAR POSTAL SYSTEM

Upon the first time I presented myself at the office, I inquired whether the post had arrived? “No.” “When do you expect it?” “To-day.” “But you desired me to be here at one o’clock.” “Eh, monsieur! one cannot be so precise.” “When shall I call again?” “To-morrow.” On the next day I returned. “Now, what say you?” “The post is not arrived.” “When will it come?” “To-night or perhaps to-morrow.” “How do you account for this irregularity?” “Who knows? the courier may have broken his neck, one cannot be particular.” “But the post from England is regular enough!” “C’est une autre affaire, les routes de Calais à Paris sont superbes.”

The next evening the post did arrive. I asked the reason for delay, and was coolly replied: “there was none.”

If I had been a merchant what fatal consequences might have ensued from this delay had I been under the necessity of making a considerable payment!

I will relate another circumstance, sufficiently ludicrous, though a general and useful deduction may be drawn from it. My valet de chambre, who fortunately for me cannot read, brought me one afternoon a letter which, after a hundred apologies for the liberty he was taking, he begged I would read to him. It came from his father, who is a well-to-do farmer near Besançon. The style of the letter was good, but the writing difficult to decypher. After the usual expressions between a parent and a son, he proceeded in the letter to ask four distinct questions, every one of which required an explicit answer. One of them, upon which he laid the greatest stress, was to inform him by its reply whether his daughter had been safely delivered. The letter, however, had a postscript: “Au Nom de Dieu ne réponds pas à cette lettre, le prix des facteurs est trop cher!”

Now without any invidious allusion to Ireland I may be permitted to observe that no so-called Irish bull was ever so simple as this remark.

No English labourer whose daughter was in a similar condition would have grudged a few sous upon such occasion, and the expense of internal postage in France is cheaper than with us.

Disinclination to correspond extends to men in better circumstances. Amidst the most sumptuous festivities and the Oriental style of living peculiar to the Consular Satrap, there is throughout the mass of the Parisians a chilling penury that would excite compassion, if we could forget that they had been the voluntary authors of their own wretchedness.

The extensive operations carried on, the numerous armies maintained on the Continent by the Republic, have rendered it extremely difficult for persons to know the destination and circumstances of their relatives.

Hence a new species of egoism has been introduced into society. The social claim is dissolved and every one lives on conjecture or only for himself. The charms and joys of friendship cannot exist in such a state.

It must be observed that trade is at a standstill; not on account of want of opportunities but for want of means. Property has not yet made its appearance from out the holes where the spirits of fraud, rapine and fear have deposited it. Concealment of spoil is the universal adage; for with all the fulsome panegyrics on the Central Government, which originate with its subaltern agents, and are despatched by the Prefects of the Departments, doubt and anxiety are pictured on every countenance, except the military and the immediate counsellors of the consulate authority. If a merchant be disposed to make a venture, the next moment his fears deter him. He hesitates to trust, and least of all is he inclined to trust his Government. Under such circumstances it is little wonder the General Post Office does so little business.

I have stood for hours in the courtyard in order to see the arrivals of the different couriers.

POSTAL TRANSIT

Nothing can be more ridiculous than the contrast between the English and French mail coaches. The French post waggons are huge unwieldy machines, drawn by cart horses, harnessed with ropes and moving at a slow pace, their arrival is nevertheless always announced by tremendous cracks of whips.

When this is compared with the smart dress and cheerful horns of our coachmen and guards, the elegant neatness and convenience of our mail coaches, the beauty of our horses, and the expedition with which they are received and despatched to pursue their different routes almost to a minute, it is impossible not to feel a proud opinion of the “little nation of shopkeepers” as the Master of the Earth is pleased to call the inhabitants of our islands. I shall conclude this account of the Post Office with observing first, from official documents on my table, that I could sail with a light wind to Jamaica before a letter in France would arrive at some of the cross posts in the Interior.

For instance, between Bourges and Sancerre, in the Department of Cher, there is at present no communication. Between Orleans and Montargis, in the Department du Loiret, there is no established mode of correspondence. But the Prefect hopes later to accomplish the matter by putting a tax on all the inhabitants.

There is no communication between Langagne and Genvielhac, in the Department of Lozère; none between Roquefort and Bordeaux, in the Lower Pyrenees, although the merchants of Pau have proved it would be a shorter route than through Toulouse.

In the Eastern Pyrenees the correspondence of the Department with that of the Department of Aude takes up five days; it should be done in one.

The most egregious villainies having been perpetrated in the Department of the Haut Rhin, it has been thought wise, prudent, and politic to suspend the postal arrangements there altogether.

Unless letters addressed to Ministers and officers of the Government are prepaid, they will never reach their destination. The Ministers make an annual charge of postage, and cabbage the difference. At first sight this perquisite may seem trivial for the fingers of an officer of State. But these officers are Ministers who have their fortunes to make.

Hence every little helps.

It should seem that circumstances, times, places, persons, things are of more importance in France than elsewhere. This was a common mania under the old Government, but it had the great resources of commerce, arts, and the wants of a great number of rich proprietors, who, unhappily, have now, with arts and commerce, been destroyed. Nevertheless, the opinion still prevails that the Government can command the harvest, and compel persons to sell and buy.

The business, however, of the Government is to correct itself by experience, to secure itself against the mistakes and bad measures of commercial administration. For no private industry, no knowledge of commercial affairs, can secure individuals against the folly of a bad Minister, or the pernicious effects of his administrative regulations. This reasoning has no influence in France; Government is required to invent, to build, to manufacture—in short, to do everything but consume; and yet this latter is the precise article in which the present Government excels and takes the greatest delight.

The perquisites of postage must be immense, as whenever despatch is required, a solicitation, to be successful, must be accompanied by a very considerable pecuniary compliment. Therefore, the Minister who holds the portfolio of the Postes amasses a considerable sum during his Ministry.

THE LEGISLATIVE BODY.

CORPS LEGISLATIF

This Tribunate meets in those departments of the Palais Royale which are opposite the Rue St. Thomas. A few shabby-looking individuals compose what is called their Guard of Honour. I had the honour and privilege of being admitted to one of these meetings, and I will try to describe what passed on this occasion. Having obtained an order of admittance at the door in exchange for our cards, we were ushered into a seat appropriated for the friends of the members, and just opposite to the Presidential chair. Immediately behind us were the reporters, and beyond them the place reserved for the public, who on that particular day consisted of eight persons. The room itself is small and mean, furnished with benches covered with blue cloth. After we had waited about twenty minutes, during which time two or three individuals peeped through the folding doors opposite to us, much in the same way as a head is sometimes seen through the green curtain at Drury Lane, in the act of exploring the house, a sudden crash of drums as a signal was heard, and the folding-door vanished as if touched by the wand of Harlequin. The drums then beat a salute, and the scene that opened presented us with a very fine perspective of soldiers presenting arms. In a minute or two the procession commenced, with six men in fancy dresses, whose appearance was a burlesque upon French legislation.

They were dressed in grey coats and pantaloons, with scarlet waistcoats and red half-boots. Upon their heads a round hat turned up in front with a blue feather, a red sash round the waist, and a good-sized stick in their hands.

Next followed the President, his round hat garnished with three upright tri-coloured feathers; he wore a mazarine-blue coat embroidered in silver, breeches to match, and a white silk waistcoat bound in by a silk tri-colour sash with silver fringes.

Behind followed the secretaries, and a motley group whose appearance provoked great merriment amongst us. Most of them were in full costume, like the President, but some with worsted, others with black silk, stockings. They wore pantaloons and half-boots, and several had whole boots with dirty brown tops.

Except the President and secretaries, there were but three in this crowd who wore a clean pair of shoes and looked like gentlemen. These three were Lucien Bonaparte, the First Consul’s next brother, who was not only in full uniform, but appeared in silk stockings and clean linen, and had in every respect the manners and address of a gentleman, with the countenance of an Italian Jew; Chauvelier,[7] formerly resident for the late unfortunate King of France in our country; and Carnot, the ex-Director, who was dressed in a suit of black worthy of a courtier. He seemed very surly, and during the whole sitting employed himself reading a pamphlet. All the rest looked like blackguards in masquerade. As soon as the President mounted his tribune, he rang a handbell; he then took off his hat, and remarked, “La Séance est ouverte.” The six gentlemen in grey already mentioned began to get up a hissing resembling geese. This was to obtain silence (for they were gentlemen ushers). The order of the day was then read. No debate took place. After each law proposed, every man (as his name was called) advanced to the tribune, and put the ball which recorded his vote into the urn. This ceremony was repeated a number of times, and, indeed, this figuring continued for above three hours. The President then rang his bell again, and declared, “La Séance est levée!” Instantly the folding doors disappeared once more with a crash, and exeunt President, secretaries, and tribunes to their respective dressing-rooms, where they exchanged their fine fancy clothes for their ordinary habiliments.

Having described the nature and object of this body, I shall now endeavour to do the same by that extraordinary assembly of Mutes, which goes by the name of the Legislative Council of France, in which 300 choice spirits are collected together to be dumb by law during four months in ever year. According to the code of “Minos” Bonaparte, article 34, we find: “The legislative body enacts the law by secret scrutiny and without the least discussion on the part of its members, upon the plans of the law debated before it, by the orators of the Tribunate and the Government.”

A SILENT PARLIAMENT

This is exquisite! Each mute is allowed the sum of £436 sterling per annum, with permission to talk during eight months of the year. Such is the best account I can give of this marvellous assembly. It is called a Legislative Council, but this designation is an improper one. In the French, as well as the English language, the word council, derived from the Latin concilium, signifies a body of men met together for the purpose of consultation. Now, except in “Dean Swift’s Voyage to Laputa,” I have never heard or read of a number of men assembled together only to think, not even at a Quaker meeting.

The hall where these thoughtful meetings take place was constructed during the Directorate; it is now pompously called “The Palace of the Legislative Bodies,” and it merits the name of palace, for it is one of the most elegant and beautiful rooms in Europe. It is semicircular, with benches rising one upon the other, for the convenience of members. Above the uppermost bench, and extending along the semicircle, are a number of arcades of fine marble, the capitals composed of bronze.

Within these persons who have obtained cards of admission are stationed, and considerably above them, nearly at the top of the ceiling is a gallery, for spectators. Opposite to the benches of the members, and in the middle of its diameter, is the chair of the President, a little below him the place of the secretaries and the tribune from which the orators of the Government, viz., the Council of State and those of the Tribunate harangue the assembly. These are all made of solid mahogany, inlaid with gold, and the pedestal of the tribune has a beautiful relief in marble, filched from Italy. On the right of the President there are three niches, within which are the statues of Lycurgus, Demosthenes and Solon, on the left three others, in which Brutus, Cato, and Cicero are fixed.

The floor, which forms the area between the tribune and the benches of the members, is of marble.

We were never present at the opening of the séance, so I cannot say whether the drums beat as at the Tribunate, but I think it likely this assembly has also a guard of honour. There is a semicircular bench on the floor opposite to the President appropriated for those tribunes and orators of the Government who are detached for the purpose of discussing the laws. They are preceded by huissiers at their entrance into the hall, and the doors are always opened as if by magic and with a crash.

The mutes wear the same uniforms as the tribunes, except that their clothing is embroidered with gold; they are by no means so slovenly in their appearance as the gentlemen of the lower chamber. A great many general officers are among their number.

The palace to which this hall is attached is the Palace Bourbon, formerly the Parisian residence of the Prince de Condé. It is situate on the other side of the Seine, opposite to the place once Place Louis XV., now Place de la Concorde, on the middle of which the unfortunate monarch of France and innumerable numbers of his former subjects were put to death.

The beautiful bridge, Pont de la Concorde, which leads to the palace, and the triumphant portal between two noble pavilions, to which it is connected by a double row of lofty columns of the Corinthian order, add to the splendour of its appearance. We must not forget while admiring so many noble specimens of architecture that not one of them is the work of the genius of Republican France; on the contrary, they were raised and embellished by the liberality of Princes, whose descendants an ungrateful people have driven into exile.

The only pieces of architecture produced by the Republic are several wooden houses erected upon barges on the river for shows and bagnios where the lascivious and polluted may at any hour of the day or night regale themselves with girls, liqueurs, coffee, dainties of all kinds and hot and cold baths.

CRIMINAL COURT

In the interior of the Palais du Corps Législatif there are several halls dedicated to peace and victory, and to those funny divinities, Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.

I will now describe the Palais de Justice.

This is another magnificent edifice. It is enclosed within a gate 120 feet in length, which forms the boundary of a large area. The façade presents a very dignified appearance, at the middle of which, after ascending a flight of steps, the people enter through a vast opening.

Among the different courts there is one which can never fail to attract a foreigner—the hall where the Revolutionary Tribunal assembled to murder innocents by wholesale. It is now called the Chamber of the Court of Appeal, and is completely altered since I last saw it in 1793, when a set of drunken cannibals, selected from the filthiest styes of the Metropolis, with red caps upon their heads, made human nature tremble, inundated France with blood, and caused every honest man to envy the days of Nero and Caracalla. The person who was with me gave me a very minute account of the trials of the Queen and Princess Elizabeth, where they were stationed, and how calm and dignified was their behaviour.

In the Criminal Court four young men were being tried for their lives. The room, the seats of the judges, advocates, jury and spectators, made me think I was in one of the circuit courts of our own country. Every person was uncovered. The judge politely invited us to sit within the tribunal, so we saw and heard all that passed distinctly.

There were three judges, who wore the same gowns as our Masters of Arts. The prisoners were seated on their left, attended by two gens d’armes and their counsel on a seat below them; to the right the jury and public prosecutor were stationed. This latter official was habited like the judges.

One of the prisoners completely established an alibi, the others succeeded so far as to render the evidence against them all ambiguous, so in consequence they were acquitted.

The Revolution caused such havoc among the corps of lawyers that the profession is scarcely deemed reputable. Every advocate of the old Monarchy, who entered into the spirit of the times, is now either a member of the Tribunate or the Conservative Senate.

The most lamentable circumstance in the interests of justice is the mean salaries granted to the judges, the principal of whom do not receive more than £400 sterling a year; and when the importance of their functions and their relative rank in society are contrasted with their pay, one cannot avoid thinking that there is a deliberate intention to degrade the name of Justice in this country, by rendering it infinitely below the scale of military authority.

This opinion is corroborated by what took place a short time ago at the Tuileries, when the Civil Code was under discussion. Cambacères, the Second Consul, had actually persuaded Bonaparte that in England there were no juries in civil causes. Upon further inquiry St. Jean d’ Angely assured him of the contrary. “How is this, Cambacères,” said the First Consul, “I am now told that the English always have juries in civil as well as criminal causes?” The latter still persisting, Blackstone was appealed to, but as no one present understood enough English to read this law book, Bonaparte extricated himself from the dilemma by saying: “Oh! as to these matters, one says one thing and another another; there appears to be no certainty at all about what is the practice in England, nor is it of any consequence whatever, but I decide there shall be no juries in France in civil causes!” Ainsi soit-il!

With this stupendous effort of human judgment I finish my account of the mode in which justice is administered in this enlightened Republic.

XXXIX
NEWSPAPERS. CHARACTERS OF THOSE CONCERNED IN THEM

FRENCH NEWSPAPERS

In the inaugural address pronounced by the celebrated Montesquieu on his admission to the French Academy, January 24, 1728, he said: “Talents without virtues are fatal presents, only proper to add strength to our vices and to render them more conspicuous.”

Had Montesquieu lived to this day he would have thought in the same spirit.

But he would not have survived the Revolutionary storm unless he had taken refuge in exile.

I well remember a rebuke I once received from Robespierre when I extolled “The Spirit of Laws.”

“The Spirit of Laws,” said he, “is the production of a fanatic and weak mind (imbécile), replete with dogma and prejudice; if Montesquieu were now alive he would very soon be less by a head, car il était un parlementaire, non pas un bon Republicain.” The word parlementaire means, strictly speaking, a Roundhead or a Whig; but such a person was not sufficiently divested of prejudice to be a good Republican in the eyes of Robespierre; besides, as the tyrant continued, “being a member of the ancient parliament of France (he was president of that at Bordeaux) he was necessarily an enemy of Republican Government, for which reason, notwithstanding his dogmas and prejudices in favour of public liberty, he was without doubt worthy of death as an aristocrat and a conspirator.”

When I heard that Montesquieu would have been less by a head had he fallen into Robespierre’s hands, I felt an unpleasant sensation in my throat, and I therefore was immediately convinced that the tyrant’s arguments were correct; but knowing that extremes of servility and opposition were alike obnoxious to him, I endeavoured to appease him with observing that it was very true, the author of “The Spirit of Laws” groped in darkness, especially in the article in which he treats of Influence of Climate, as it was now clear that the enlightened principles of the Revolution were equally applicable to the whole race of man, and that there would probably be a National Convention very soon in China; but still that I could not avoid considering Montesquieu, as well as Machiavel, in the light of a pioneer of liberty! “Machiavel, the pioneer of liberty!” he cried (giving me a fixed look with his two large tigerish eyes and clenching his fists, the usual preliminaries of a warrant of arrest), “you are not acquainted with the true principles, the doctrines of Machiavel established tyranny over the whole of Europe.” Every one who has read Machiavel with attention, which I am persuaded Robespierre never did, if he read him at all, must be satisfied that his book “The Prince,” was written solely to expose the machinations of tyrants, and caution the people of free States against their intrigues.

I have been led to these remarks in order to expose the worthlessness of the literary claims of those political writers and orators who affect a great deal of information when they possess none. No people possess greater facility than the French in persuading the world that they know everything, when in fact they know little or nothing.

When I was about to depart for France I was requested by the proprietors of a long-established daily paper in London to procure if possible some intelligent person in whom they might confide to act as a proper correspondent, to give them authentic information of what was passing in France. When I arrived in Paris I therefore addressed myself to men of approved talents in science, and, as I had been informed, of knowledge in politics.

FRENCH NEWSPAPERS

The sum I was empowered to offer was sufficiently captivating, and they buzzed about me in consequence like so many paupers round the overseer of a parish in the act of distributing bread. With respect to operas, plays, masquerades, concerts, balls and all the other equipage of folly and pleasure, information respecting them was none of my object. I wanted such communications as should prove useful to men of understanding, to the politician, the manufacturer and the merchant; I did not care to learn whether the First Consul slept at Malmaison or the Tuileries. The points upon which accurate information might be of incalculable advantage to the British public were, who was the last person robbed, banished, poisoned, or otherwise murdered by the order of the chief of the State, what measures were in agitation to sap the foundations of any kingdom, and what independent community was next to be overthrown and enslaved.

Accordingly I stated distinctly to my would-be correspondents that we required facts and facts only. Politics were the principal topics of conversation during our interviews, and I was utterly astonished to discover the profound ignorance my new acquaintances displayed.

None of them seemed to have any just notion either of the state of Europe or their own country. After a short intercourse I discovered that with the little information I had gained I already knew more of the affairs of France than they did.

However, that I might not be led away by my own opinions, I suggested to five of those gentlemen, who I selected from the crowd owing to their distinguished credentials, that they should take up their pens and give a specimen of their manner of treating things, that I might forward such writings immediately to the two gentlemen in England who had commissioned me to seek for correspondents. I told this to each applicant separately, and requested he should choose his subject for himself. Two of those individuals were members of the National Institute, one a very celebrated Professor, and the two others distinguished and respected savans! Five hours after the conversation I received an estafette from one of the Institute men, and before two days had elapsed despatches arrived from all the rest. After having read them all over with repeated attention, I decided, for the sake of my own credit, to send none of them to England. They were so puerile that I will stake my honour upon a boy at Eton or Westminster writing more and better to the purpose.

They were full of flowers, tropes and metaphors, but contained nothing solid; and all overflowed with the commonplace metaphysics of the new Philosophy. My embarrassments now increased, for the Club of Sages, whom the report of my commission collected round me, besieged my lodgings day after day, like suitors in the ante-chamber of Talleyrand; and notwithstanding their courteous carriage and apparent indifference they all asked me anxiously what news I had received by the post. The awkward situation in which I found myself compelled me eventually to say that my colleagues had altered their plans and determined to confide their correspondence to an English gentleman now in Paris—i.e., myself.

But although these philosophers did not obtain any ulterior benefit from my offer, I was enabled by my intercourse with them to obtain considerable information respecting the state of the Press in Paris at the present time, and I here give the result of my inquiries.

Newspapers in France are under the immediate control of the police, and are principally edited by those illuminated children of science, better known under the title of the National Institute.

The Moniteur is the first in order in baseness and infamy. It is considered the official paper of the Government. As all its papers are under the superintendence of the police, they are all official. Its nominal proprietors are Messrs. Roederer[1] and Hautrive,[1] but the profits belong to a club consisting of five Ministers, those of Finance, Interior, Foreign Affairs, War and Police. Roederer receives a stipend of £800 a year (which, with his income of a Councillor of State, gives him £3500 to spend) as a salary for editing the paper, for which he is of course considered the responsible person. All the expenses of paper, printing and publishing, are defrayed by the Treasury.

CHARACTERS OF EDITORS

Hautrive is not a stipendiary or responsible editor, but he writes in the Moniteur, and his articles are well paid. The Decemvir Barrère receives £1000 per annum for his literary assistance, but he is really acting as a private spy for the First Consul, on the operations of the Jacobins. He is likewise engaged as spy upon the Grand Spy, Fouché, Minister of Police.

The different Ministers frequently employ the pens of their subalterns in office. You cannot be mistaken respecting the authors of the articles, as their style convicts them. The following may, however, serve as general rules for the discovery of the distinguished literati engaged.

Ferocious and blustering passages on the power of the Republic, in the style of epic prose.—Treilhard,[1] ex-Avocat, ex-Director, ex-Negotiator, and Councillor of State.

Religious homilies and pious incantations, with much whining about the restoration of the Catholic Faith, but written in good style.—Portales,[1] the Elder Councillor of State, who from a professed atheist, having read the Bible over and over again, as he says, during his exile at Homburgh, has found himself converted, and on his return converted Bonaparte to believe what he believes, and is now a saint as well as his disciple.

Gasconades, calembours, bombast, apostrophes to nature, mothers with infants at their breasts. Hard-hearted men who never had children, heaving bosoms of humanity, all the impure verbiage of the Tribunal of the National Convention.—Barrère, ex-member of the Council of Public Safety. Practical reporter of all its atrocities, who signed the death warrants of about 40,000 of his countrymen, avowing in the Committee that dead men tell no tales; afterwards sentenced to transportation; turned Christian in jail, won the good opinion of his jailer, at whose table he said grace before and after meals. Escaped from prison and secreted himself till Bonaparte attained supreme power, to whom he sent a fulsome address, declaring he was the reporter who made known to astonished Europe the exploits of the hero of Italy; liberated by the commiseration and sympathy of his master, he now licks his feet and is his humble servant; though retired (as his profession requires) he lives in good style, near my lodgings, keeps a girl of his own and is allowed by the First Consul to share in the profits of a house of ill fame which he founded.

Comparisons between Great Britain and the great nations; between porter and burgundy, coals and wood, roast beef and bouillie.—Chaptal,[1] the chemist, Minister of the Interior, one of the basest of slaves.

Surly remarks on the tyrants of the ocean, the insolence and intrigues of British Government, the cravings and jealous disposition of the Nation of Shopkeepers, the National Debt of England, its exhausted resources, bad faith and sincere integrity of France.—Roederer, Councillor of State, member of the National Institute, ex-avocat, has always sided with every party in order to illustrate practically his valuable treatise on making loans and on solving the question whether the State should pay its debts. He was Procureur-General, Syndic of the Department of Paris, during the expiring moments of the Monarchy.

The same in more fluent and easy language.—Hautrive,[1] a pensioner of the Consul and nominal sub-editor of the paper.

Sallies respecting Malta and hints respecting Egypt and the Mediterranean.—Regnault de St. Jean d’Angely, Councillor of State, in great favour with Bonaparte, formerly an avocat of Saintogne, a furious royalist as long as Louis XVI. continued to fee him. Intrepid royalist, editor of the Journal de Paris in 1791; violent Jacobinist, editor of the Gazette de Milan under the auspices of Bonaparte in 1796. Member of the Constituent Assembly, in which capacity he was pensioned by the Order of Malta to plead on behalf of its rights; in return for which he betrayed his clients, went to the island as the Commissary of the Directory, and superintended the administration of the plunder. Completely sacked the Palace of the Grand Master, Baron de Homfesch, pilfered all the plate and money he could lay his hands on, composed a Revolutionary Gazette for the Islands of the Archipelago, and returned to France laden with an immense booty, is a member of the National Institute in the class of Political Economy; is a married man with a family, keeps a girl, but is saving and takes care of the main chance.

FALSE NEWS

Barefaced lies and swindling propositions.—Talleyrand, Minister of Foreign Affairs, ex-Bishop of Autun; renounced Christianity and his Order, went to England, 1793, to assist Chauvelin and Moret in lulling the English Government. Trembling for his head remained there after the war broke out. Took lodgings at Mr. Colpus’s, near Highgate Pond, during which time he made a point of eating boiled beef on Fridays, departed for America, whence he humbly sued for permission to return to France. The Directorate, being in want of a dexterous rascal to manage the pillage, sequestration of the German abbeys, and other ecclesiastical possessions, permitted him to return home, and gave him the portfolio of Charles de la Croix; since which he has been actively engaged in the decomposition of Europe and in converting the German Empire into a State Lottery for himself and his masters—takes bribes from all and cheats all, with placid composure. Feels a great reluctance to enter into negotiation without a preliminary douceur (the American commissioners to wit); the greatest swindler in Europe. Rich as Lucullus, has lately resumed Christianity and sent to request the Pope will unfrock him and give him absolution for his past sins. The First Consul has promised to make it his care that his Holiness shall execute this request, and in return for which special grace Talleyrand will richly reward the Pontifical Ambassador for the expenses incurred in negotiating the business.—Keeps Madame Grand, of Indian fame, at the hotel of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where she acts in every way as if she were his lawful wife. He also keeps a young tit at a little château where he transacts private business.

Is a man of rank, education and princely birth, possesses transcendent abilities, and perhaps is the greatest living rogue and liar in Christendom.

Sensible data on the public law in Europe, afforded though not written for publication, but digested by Roederer for the Press.—Rosensthiel, formerly principal Secretary of Legation to the French Ministers at the farcical congress of Radstadt in 1799, the pupil and friend of Pfeffer, long employed in the diplomatic department under the old Monarchy; devotedly attached to his King, detesting the Revolution, on that account dismissed by Dumouriez, when Minister of Foreign Affairs; having been imprisoned, proscribed and ruined. Father of a large family, he was constrained from the necessity of his circumstances to accept the Consulship of Elsineur in 1796, whence, being the only Frenchman profoundly versed in the history and practice of public law, he was again transferred to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Modest, mild, virtuous and learned, he is therefore not a member of the National Institute.

These are the principal workmen who furnish the Moniteur with leading articles, most of which are a vehicle for blustering and imposture.

The next Parisian newspaper in rank and circulation to the Moniteur is the Journal des Défenseurs de la Patrie. In this paper there are often good articles and useful literary criticisms. But all political reflection is, for obvious reasons, banished from its pages.

One, Joseph la Vallée, without appearing ostensibly to take any interest in this paper, is really paid £260 sterling by the Government for watching its concerns.

I have seen a great deal of la Vallée; he is endowed with great intellectual acquirements. He is a modest, inoffensive man, extremely anxious to oblige, not loquacious, but interesting in conversation.

He is not a member of the National Institute, which may account for his integrity. In one of our conversations he complained bitterly of the English newspapers for their animadversions on the French Government, and particularly on the First Consul, expressing his fears that these attacks might lead to bloodshed between the two countries.

CONTROL OF PRESS BY BONAPARTE

I desired him to name the papers he alluded to; he mentioned the Porcupine and the Morning Post. I explained to him that the Porcupine was nonexistent, having been for some months merged in the True Briton. He was quite confounded by this information, for he had no idea the Porcupine had been relinquished. He observed that the True Briton was however also extremely violent.

“Why then,”, I returned, “do you not, my dear friend, answer them with equal vehemence?” “Because these political discussions are not agreeable to the Government, for if we replied it would be impossible to do so without translating and so publishing the arguments of the enemy, for such discussions would only unsettle the minds of people and might shake the Government.” “Ah, vive la Liberté,” said I. “I thought I was in a free Republic!” He gave no reply, and our conversation abruptly ended.

A curious incident took place a few years ago here. It was common talk the Senate (Législatif Conseil) were to pass a decree continuing Bonaparte in the Consulate for life. A paper was circulated containing remarks upon the meanness of such a project, declaring national gratitude should proclaim Napoleon Bonaparte Emperor of the Gauls, and make the throne hereditary to his race.

The very next day there appeared in the Journal des Défenseurs a well-written article in the true spirit of a Republican against not only the Imperial project, but also against that of making the Consulate a life-long appointment. Soon after I had read it la Vallée called on me. “You see,” said he, “Frenchmen can write as they please. Nothing shall deter me,” continued the indignant Republican. “I never disliked the late King, nor shared in the events of the Revolution; but rather than see any one of my fellow citizens upon the throne of France, I would burn this hand if I did not write against him!”

Two days after this animated declaration, I took up the same journal and read a long laboured dissertation on the innumerable advantages the Republic would obtain by conferring the Consulate for life “on the genius of victory and peace.” I became extremely desirous of another interview with the intrepid Republican. But he never came near us for several days. At length we met him at a dinner party, consisting of twenty persons. He betrayed on seeing me some confusion and sheepishness. I shook him heartily by the right hand, whispering in his ear, “I am happy to find you have not burnt it.” I was sorry I gave way to this not ill-natured jest, for a visible dejection overspread his features, and he remained depressed and dispirited during the whole time he was in my company that evening.

Le Chef du Cabinet, the best printed of the Parisian journals, is compiled with care, and gives in general a fairly faithful account of continental news.

One of the principal writers in this paper and in Le Publiciste is Garot, member of the Senate, and also of the National Institute. Before the Revolution he was what the French call homme des lettres, i.e., a poor lawyer without practice. In England, our men of letters, successful or otherwise, are almost invariably men of a classical education and cultivated talents. But in France, a mere smattering of Greek and Latin, learnt principally through the medium of translations, constitute their principal studies.

He began his career with writing paragraphs for the Mercure. He was next a member of the Constitutional Assembly, in which his talents were considered in so contemptible a light that he was never noticed.

But in later years he attributed his silence in that Assembly to his philosophy. He then became editor of the Journal de Paris. Here he seems to have been most liberally paid, as out of six months’ savings, he managed to find 32,000 livres (£1280 sterling), with which he purchased a house and garden.

JOSEPH LA VALLÉE

In April 1792, he arrived in England, in the suite of the French Embassy. After the memorable 10th of August in the same year, he having returned to France, was made by the Convention Editeur de la Gazette Nationale.

Less than two months later, on October 9, he was appointed Minister of Justice. Here was a leap!

During his short ministry, he truckled to every faction, and courted the goodwill of every demagogue. He was nevertheless pronounced an imbecile, deposed, arrested for a day, and released. He next composed a book, in which he compared himself to Sully, Turgot, and our Lord Jesus Christ. He was appointed Commissary of Public Instruction, but shortly afterwards cashiered. Then sent as French Ambassador to the Court of Naples, in order to pave the way for the irruption of a Republican army.

Recalled and nominated a member of the Council of the Ancients, dismissed by Bonaparte—he retired into a corner, and quitted his obscurity for a seat among the Mutes. He then became the apologist of Bonaparte, as he had before been of Robespierre and Danton—gets a pension of £3000 sterling per annum of the public spoils, and finally becomes a member of the National Institute. He, now, in a work of his lately published, calls Robespierre un monstre, un fou, scélérat, étranger à une bonne logique, having a soul filled with suspicion, terror, vanity and vengeance. His elocution, he pronounces to have been senseless babbling, eternal and tiresome repetition of the same sentiments for the rights of man, the sovereignty of the people on principles of which he incessantly harangued without ever propounding a new or correct idea.

The following epistle was found among the papers of Robespierre after his execution; it was a letter, written by this very Garot to the man whom he afterwards described as given above.

October 30, 1793.

“I have read your report on foreign powers, and the extracts of your last speech, delivered to the Jacobins: as I have not at this time an opportunity of making my sentiments known to the public, I hasten to acquaint you yourself with the impressions they have made on me.

“The report is a magnificent piece of policy, Republican morality, style and eloquence. It is with such profound and exalted sentiments of virtue, and I will add with such language, that the nation one represents is honoured in the eyes of all mankind. The style of the report on foreign Powers is throughout dignified, pointed and elegant, and rises to the tone of the highest order of eloquence by the grandeur of its sentiments and its ideas.

“Your speech to Louvet, your speech on the trial of Louis Capet, are in my opinion the most exquisite pieces which have appeared during the whole Revolution. They will be studied in the schools of the Republic as models of classic eloquence, and they will be transcribed upon the pages of history as the most powerful causes that have operated on the destiny of France.”

Le Citoyen Français is the most independent paper in Paris. Before the usurpation of Bonaparte, Thomas Paine frequently furnished it with articles, but since that event he has withdrawn his assistance.

Le Journal de Commerce is under the direction of Monsieur Penchet, member of the Commercial Council and the Board of Commerce. He is a respectable man, possessed of enlightened views and scientific and practical knowledge.

The Publiciste, the Gazette de France, Journal des Débats are the remaining newspapers, worthy of notice. It is refreshing to the national pride of an Englishman to contrast the wretched state of the craven French Press with the free and vigorous reasoning which appears in the London journals; I become hourly more enamoured of my country and more disgusted with the Republic.

Louis XIV. during the whole of his reign never degraded the Press of his country as it is now degraded. But with respect to other branches of literature, the French still shine with uncommon brilliancy, and as no man is more ready than myself to do them justice, when they deserve it, I will describe some of those publications in my next letter.

XL
PHILOSOPHICAL, LITERARY AND OTHER PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS

MAGAZINES AND OTHER PERIODICALS

During the Old Monarchy, France made great advances in practical philosophy, but scientific knowledge was still confined within very circumscribed limits. The Revolution has enabled scientific and literary men to diffuse their acquirements over the surface of the Republic. A short review of the leading periodicals of the day will demonstrate their respective objects.

The first of those periodicals, in point of respectability and talent, is the Journal de Physique, edited and conducted by one of the ablest and most virtuous men in France, Dr. de la Metherie. I have already mentioned he had been imprisoned during those days of persecution, when it was the fashion to oppress every man of worth and talents. But to this hour no ground has ever been given for his arrestation. He is now Professor of Mineralogy in the College de France, and receives for this £100 per annum. As editor of the Journal de Physique he receives £200 a year, and this is the whole emolument his literary labours bring him.

The Annales de Chimie is a publication which merits attention, and I believe every eminent chemist in France contributes to its contents and reputation.

Annales de l’Agriculture Française is published by Tessier, and is now advanced as far as the twelfth volume. It is one of the best and most valuable publications extant in the Republic, and has afforded great encouragement and information to the cultivator. Although Tessier is the editor of the work, Monsieur Hugard is the principal manager. He is an honest, indefatigable and learned man. He was brought up as a practising farrier in his father’s shop, to which circumstance he is indebted for the beginning of his knowledge (now that of an expert) upon the diseases and treatment of horses and other cattle.

He has a sound and vigorous intellect, looks as plump and jolly as John Bull, and possesses all the good nature of that character.

Annales Statistiques is likely to prove one of the most valuable productions of France. It is extremely well printed on good paper, and a number appears every month.

Bibliothèque Commerciale is a new work determined to diffuse information upon subjects of commerce and navigation.

Annales des Arts et Manufactures. This is a periodical publication, accompanied by a number of engravings.

The editor is one O’Reilly, an Irishman, once a pronounced and violent Jacobin.

CITIZEN O’REILLY

As citizen O’Reilly, in the year 1792, he succeeded in expelling two Englishmen from White’s in the Rue des Petits Pères, because they opposed the maniac Irish propositions of Citizen Lord Edward Fitzgerald and the two unhappy Sheares, all of whom met a tragic fate in Ireland.[8] O’Reilly, however, remained in France and thereby saved himself from the fate which his deserts fully entitled him. The Colonel Commandant of Tyrone in Ireland during the rebellion, informed me that Citizen O’Reilly had been hanged. I was therefore not a little astonished one day in Paris, when about to sit down to dinner at a party to which I had been invited, to see my old friend enter the room, quite debonnair and dressed or rather masked à la française. In this land of magic I had been so accustomed to see supposed dead men once more in the flesh, that I eyed this ghost for a considerable time before addressing him, but he hearing my name mentioned, at once exclaimed: God bless me! is it you, Mr. Yorke? do you not recollect me? “Upon my word, sir, yes; you are so much like a gentleman of my acquaintance who had the misfortune to be hanged four years since in Ireland, that I could swear you were the very man.” After some explanation, I found he had escaped the hands of Jack Ketch, and is now, as he expressed it, “a French citizen and no subject of the King of England.” He seemed desirous of taking every opportunity to affront the English and asperse our Government.

This man would not have occupied so much of my space did I not know him to be one of the rankest conspirators against our country. He ran away from England on account of the debts which he had incurred as one of the proprietors or managers of the Opera House, and set up in Paris as a persecuted Irish patriot. From the year 1792 to the present hour he has been ceaselessly engaged in plots against England, and his hatred increases daily against our country to whose genial soil he knows he can never return. He has fought against England in the French armies, and glories in the fact. He is a favourite with Bonaparte in consequence of his suggesting a new plan of gun vessels for transporting an invading army to our shores. He is an ardent and active member of the Irish Club in Paris, and avows his heart and soul are bound up in the hope and desire of emancipating Ireland. After he left the army he returned to Paris and commenced the periodical work I have already mentioned. It is in high esteem, and its sale must be great or his means of subsistence amply supplied by the Government, for he has a press of his own, lives in style and keeps his girl.

Bibliothèque Britannique, printed at Geneva, has a great sale in Paris. It is edited by Messrs. Picter and Mourin, and contains a digest of the most valuable philosophical treatise in our language.

Mazarin Encyclopædie ou Journal des Sciences, Lettres et Arts, edited by A. L. Millier, keeper of the antiques and medals in the National Library, is considered one of the most valuable periodical journals in France.

La Decade Philosophique, Littéraire et Politique, appears three times every month, and has the greatest circulation of any other periodical work in France. But this is no evidence of its superiority. It is a farrago of modern philosophical trash and impiety. It is a critical review, a poetical repository, a novelists’ magazine, a political register, a literary advertiser, a theoretical reporter, a herald of folly, a base and servile declaimer in favour of the ruling power, and a recorder of obscenity and atheism.

Ginguené,[1] member of the National Institute and the Senate, is the avowed editor of this political decade. This person, before the era of the Republic, was employed as a secretary by Madame Necker. Being patronised by Marmontel, he soon became a man of consequence. He next became the tool of Mirabeau, then the spaniel of Danton. Then a first-rate Jacobin, a hireling of the Directoire, and now a humble servant of the First Consul. Such a career deserved a rich reward in such a Republic as this of France.

TOM PAINE

He was accordingly preferred to the post of Director of Public Instruction, but he solicited a more brilliant destiny, and was accordingly turned into an ambassador and sent to Turin to assist General Bruno in preparing the dethronement and exile of the Piedmontese sovereign. On his return to Paris he has been temporarily gratified by a membership in the Conservative Senate, and the editorship of this periodical, a lucrative situation.

I could mention many more interesting literary works and periodicals of the highest literary interest, but I have commemorated enough works of uncommon merit, edited and produced most of them by men of great ability and furnished with means and opportunities of increasing the knowledge they already possess. It is but a tribute of justice which every man owes to superior genius to declare that in point of real science, experimental philosophy and literary merit, “France is without a rival.”

XLI
THOMAS PAINE. JACK BARLOW. THE ABBÉ COSTI. DR. SUDAEUR

The name of Tom Paine is familiar to every Englishman. Had I not been previously acquainted with him I should have contrived an interview with him during my stay in Paris. Nearly ten years had elapsed since we were last together, and I felt deeply interested in learning his opinions concerning the French Revolution, after all the experiences, so long a period of storms and convulsion, must have afforded him.

It was not without considerable difficulty that I discovered his residence, for the name of Thomas Paine is now odious in France, far more so than in England. A bookseller’s shop in the Palais Royal appeared a likely place for inquiries, but I had no sooner mentioned his name than the bookseller, his wife and a bystander fell upon me, in the most unmerciful manner, calling Paine “Scélérat, bandit, coquin!” and ascribing to him the resistance Leclerc had received from the negroes of St. Domingo, of which repulse to French arms they had just received intelligence, so that I found it necessary to decamp as soon as possible.

Being at a loss how to proceed, I determined to inquire at the hotel of the American Minister, where I was informed that Paine lived at a bookseller’s in the Rue du Théâtre Français, an American bookseller, who inhabited No. 2. I immediately repaired to the house, and after mounting to the second storey, was shown into a little dirty room, containing a small wooden table and two chairs. “This,” said the portress, who had guided me upstairs, “is Mr. Paine’s room; he is taking a nap, but will be here presently.” I never saw such a filthy apartment in the whole course of my life. The chimney hearth was a heap of dirt. There was not a speck of cleanliness anywhere. Three shelves were filled with paste-board boxes, each labelled after the manner of a Minister of Foreign Affairs: “Correspondance Américaine, Ditto Britannique—idem Française. Notices politiques. Le Citoyen Français,” &c. In one corner of the room stood several huge bars of iron, curiously shaped, and two large trunks; opposite the fireplace a board covered with pamphlets and journals, having more the appearance of a dresser in a scullery than a sideboard. Such was the wretched habitation where I found Thomas Paine, one of the founders of the American Independence, whose extraordinary genius must ever command attention, and whose writings have summoned to action the minds of the most enlightened politicians of Europe! How different the dwelling of the apostle of Freedom from the gorgeous mansions tenanted by the apostles of the French Republic!

After I had waited for a short time, Mr. Paine came downstairs, dressed in a long flannel gown.

INTERVIEW WITH PAINE

I was shocked by his altered appearance. Time seemed to have made dreadful ravages over his frame, and a settled melancholy was visible over his countenance. He pressed me by the hand, his countenance brightened as he recollected me, and a tear stole down his cheek. Nor was I less affected than himself. “Thus we are met once more, Mr. Paine, after a separation of ten years, and after we have both been severely weather-beaten.”

“Aye,” he replied, “and who would have thought that we should meet in Paris,” he continued, with a smile of contempt; “they have shed blood enough for liberty, and now they have liberty in perfection, no honest man should live in this country, they do not and cannot understand the principles of free government. They have conquered half Europe only to make it more miserable than before.”

I replied that I thought much might yet be done for the Republic. “Republic!” he exclaimed, “this is no Republic! I know of no Republic but that of America, and that is the only place for men like you and I. It is my intention to return as soon as possible. You are a young man, and may see better times. For myself I renounce all European politics.”

I enumerated my objections, concluding with the want of society and the apprehension I had of contracting yellow fever. These objections he met by declaring there was as good and even better society in America than in Europe; and as to the yellow fever, proper precautions would cause it wholly to disappear. In the course of our long conversation about America he put into my hands a letter written to him by Mr. Jefferson, the President of the United States.

It was dictated with the freedom of an old friend. Mr. Jefferson began by congratulating Mr. Paine upon his determination to settle finally in the New World, for he says he will find on his return a favourable change in the political opinions of the citizens, who are happily come back to those enlightened principles which he, Mr. Paine, had so usefully contributed to spread over the world. As Mr. Paine had expressed a desire to return in a public manner, he states that the sloop of war which brought the Minister Livingston from France would return at a given time and convey him to America if he could make it convenient to take advantage of the occasion. The rest of the letter is couched in terms of the warmest friendship, assuring Mr. Paine of a hearty reception.

When I had perused this letter he observed that only four persons now survived who had acted in concert during the American Revolution, John Adams,[1] Jefferson,[1] Livingston[1] and himself. He continued laughingly: “It would be a curious circumstance if I were sent as Secretary of Legation to the British Court, which outlawed me. What a hubbub it would create at the King’s levée to see Tom Paine presented by the American ambassador! All the bishops and great ladies would faint away; the women supposing I came to rob and ravish them, the bishops to rob and ravish their titles. I think it would be a good joke!”

But he finally added that this was not a probable event to occur at his time of life, but that he should dispose of his American property, live on the interest, and amuse himself by writing memoirs of his life and correspondence, two volumes of which he had already completed. The estate he possesses in America is valuable, he estimates it at about £7000.

I inquired how he had passed his life since we parted. He gave a long account of his occupations since he was sent to prison. During our invasion of Holland he went to Brussels, where he passed a few days with General Bruno, with a view, he declared, of accompanying him to Holland, “to see the last of John Bull.” But he said that in France and in the French army there was but one opinion concerning that event, i.e., the final certain success of the English.

PAINE AND LADY S.

When he was in prison he wrote “The Age of Reason,” and amused himself by carrying on a correspondence with Lady S——, under the assumed name of “The Castle in the Air.” To this her ladyship answered under the title of “The Little Corner of the World.” This correspondence still continues.

He showed me some of it, which, notwithstanding the dreadful places in which it was composed, is beautiful and interesting. He is the author of that beautiful song on the death of General Wolfe, which a few years ago was in every one’s mouth. The following extract from one of his manuscript essays affords a competent idea of his manner in treating subjects less solemn and invidious than politics.

TO FORGETFULNESS.

From the “Castle in the Air,” to the “Little Corner of the World.”

Memory like a beauty that is always present to hear herself flattered, is flattered by every one. But the silent goddess Forgetfulness has no votaries, yet we owe her much. She is the goddess of ease, though not of pleasure.

When the mind is like a room hung with black, and every corner of it is crowded with the most horrid images Imagination can create, this kind speechless goddess Forgetfulness is following us night and day with her opium wand and gently touching first one and then another, benumbs them into rest, and at last glides away with the silence of a departing shadow.

How dismal must the picture of life appear to that soul which resolves on darkness and to die! Yet how many of the young and beautiful, timid in everything else, have shut their eyes upon the world and made the waters their sepulchral bed! Ah! if at that crisis they had thought or tried to think that Forgetfulness would eventually come to their relief, they would lay hold on life.

All grief, like all things else, will yield to the obliterating power of time, while Despair is preying on the mind, Time is preying upon Despair and Forgetfulness will change the scene.

I have twice been present at a scene of attempted suicide. The one a love-distracted girl in England; the other a patriotic friend in France. I will relate these circumstances to you. They will in some measure corroborate my assertion upon Forgetfulness.

About the year 1766 I was in Lincolnshire on a visit to a widow lady, Mrs. E. It was summer and after supper one evening Mrs. E. and I went to take a turn in the garden. It was about eleven o’clock, to avoid the night air of the Fens, we were walking in a bower shaded by hazel bushes. On a sudden she screamed and pointed to a white shapeless figure without head or arms, moving along one of the walks at some distance away. I quitted my companion and went after it. When I got up into the walk where the figure was, it took a cross walk. There was a holly bush on the corner of the two walks, which, being night, I did not observe, and as I continued to step forward the holly bush came in a straight line between me and the figure, which thus appeared to have vanished. But when I had passed the bush I caught sight of the figure again, and coming up to it put out my hand to touch it. My hand rested on the shoulder of a human figure. I spoke, it answered “Pray let me alone.” I then recognised a young lady on a visit to Mrs. E., who that evening, on the plea of indisposition, had not joined us at supper. I said, “My God! I hope you are not going to do yourself some hurt!” She replied, with pathetic melancholy, “Life has not one pleasure left for me.” I got her into the house, and Mrs. E. took her to sleep in her room.

The case was, the man who had promised to marry her had forsaken her, and was about to be married to another. The shock and sorrow appeared to her too great to be borne. She had retired to her room, and when, as she supposed, all the family had gone to bed, she undressed herself, tied her apron over her head—which, descending below her waist, gave her a shapeless figure—and was going to drown herself in a pond at the bottom of the garden, when I arrested her progress.

PAINE’S FORGETFULNESS

By gentle usage, and leading her into subjects that might distract her mind and occupy her thoughts, we gradually stole her from the horror and misery she was in. In the course of a few months she recovered her former cheerfulness, and was afterwards a happy wife and mother of a family.

The other case is as follows:[9] In Paris, in 1793, I had lodgings in the Rue Faubourg St. Denis, No. 63; they were agreeable, except for the fact that they were too remote from the Convention, of which I was a member. But this was recompensed by the lodging being also remote from the alarms and confusion into which the interior of Paris was so often thrown at this time. The house, which was enclosed by a wall and gateway from the street, was a good deal like an old mansion farmhouse, and the courtyard was stocked like a farmyard, with fowls, turkeys and geese, which for amusement we used to feed out of the window of the parlour on the ground floor. There were some hutches for rabbits, and a stye or two for pigs. Beyond was a garden of two acres, well laid out and stocked with excellent fruit-trees. The orange, the apple, the greengage and the plum were the best I ever tasted. The place had formerly been occupied by some curious person.

My apartments consisted of three rooms. The first for wood, water, &c., with an old-fashioned chest high enough to hang up clothes in. The next was the bedroom, and beyond the sitting-room. At the end of the sitting-room was a glass door leading to a flight of narrow stairs, by which I could descend privately into the garden.

I went into my chamber to write and sign a certificate for them, which I intended to take into the guard-house to obtain their release. Just as I had finished it, a man came into my room dressed in the uniform of a captain, spoke to me in good English and with a good address.

He told me that two young Englishmen were arrested and detained at the guard-house, and that “the section” had sent him to ask me if I knew them and would answer for them, and in that case they would be liberated.

This matter being soon settled between us, he talked to me about the “Rights of Man,” which he had read in English, and finally took his leave in the politest and most friendly manner, saying he was always at my service.

This man, who so civilly offered me his service, turned out to be Samson, the public executioner, who guillotined the King and all the political victims of the Revolution.

As for me, I used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden after it was dark, and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system which had so altered the character of that Revolution I had been so proud to defend.[10]

I went but little to the Convention, and then only to show an appearance, because I found it impossible to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. My having voted, as well as extensively spoken (more so than any member) against the execution of the King, had already fixed a mark upon me; neither dared any of my associates in the Convention translate and speak in French for me, as they formerly did when I wished to make my views publicly known.[11]

Pen and ink was then of no use to me. No good could be done by writing what no printer dared to print; and whatever I might have written for my private amusement as anecdotes of the times would have been continually exposed to be examined and tortured into any meaning the rage of party might fix upon it. And my heart was in distress at the fate of my friends, and my harp strung upon the weeping willows.

PAINE’S FORGETFULNESS

It was summer; we therefore spent most of our time in the garden, and passed it away in childish amusements, such as marbles, scotch hop, battledore, &c., so as to try and keep reflection from our minds.

In this retired manner we remained about six or seven weeks. Our landlord went every evening into the city to bring us the news of the day and the Evening journal.

He recovered, and being anxious to get out of France, a passport was obtained for him and his friend, chiefly, I believe, by the means of the huissier Rose, and secretly by the influence of some of the members of the Committee.[12] They received their passport late in the evening, but set off that same night in a post-chaise to Basle, which place they reached in safety. The very morning after their departure I heard a rapping at the gate, and looking out of the window I beheld entering the courtyard a guard with muskets and fixed bayonets. It was a guard to take up the fugitives, but they were already, happily, out of their reach.[13]

The same guard returned a month later and took the Landlord Geit and myself to prison!

I have often been in company with Mr. Paine since my arrival in Paris. I was surprised to find him quite indifferent about the public spirit in England or the influence of his doctrines upon his fellow countrymen. Indeed he disliked the mention of the subject, and when one day I casually remarked that I had altered my opinions upon my principles, he said:

“You certainly have the right to do so, but you cannot alter the nature of things; the French have alarmed all honest men, but still truth is truth. My principles are possibly almost impracticable and might cause in their carrying out much misery and confusion, but they are just.” Here he spoke with the greatest severity of Mr. ——, who had obtained a seat in Parliament, and said: “parsons were always mischievous fellows.” I then hinted to him that his publication of the “Age of Reason” had lost him the good opinion of many Englishmen. He became uncommonly warm at this remark, and said he only published it “to inspire mankind with a higher idea of the Supreme Architect of the Universe, and to put an end to villainous imposture.”

He then broke out into violent invectives against Christianity, declaring at the same time his intense reverence for the Omnipotent Supreme Being. He avowed himself ready to lay down his life in support of his opinions and said “The Bishop of Llandaff may roast me in Smithfield if he likes, but human torture cannot shake my opinions.”

I assured him that the Bishop of Llandaff was a man of too enlightened, tolerant and humane a disposition to wish to roast any man for differing with him in opinions, and that his celebrated apology breathes tolerance in every page.

RETENTIVE MEMORY OF PAINE

“Aye, it is an apology indeed, for priestcraft. Parsons will meddle and make mischief, they thus hurt their own cause, but I have a rod in pickle for Mr. Bishop.” Here he reached down a copy of the Bishop’s work, interleaved with remarks upon it, which he read to me. It seems as if in proportion to his present listlessness in politics, his zeal in his religious or anti-religious opinions increases; of this the following anecdote is an instance.

An English lady of our acquaintance, as remarkable for her talents as her charm of person and manners, entreated me to arrange a meeting for her with Mr. Paine. As this lady is a very rigid Roman Catholic I cautioned Mr. Paine beforehand to be very discreet in touching upon religious subjects, and with much good nature he promised to be so. For about four hours he kept every one of the company on this occasion in astonishment and admiration of his memory, of his keen observation of men and women, his numberless anecdotes of the American Indians, of the American War, of Franklin, Washington and even of his Majesty the King, of whom he told several curious anecdotes of humour and benevolence. His remarks on genius and taste can never be forgotten by those present.

So far all went excellently well, and the sparkling champagne gave a zest to his conversation, and we were all delighted. But, alas! alas! one of the company happened to allude to his “Age of Reason,” he then broke out immediately. He began with astronomy, and addressing himself to Mrs. Y——, the lady in question, he declared that the least inspection of the motion of the stars proved Moses to be a liar. Nothing would then stop him. In vain I attempted to change the subject by every artifice in my power. He returned to the charge with unabated ardour.

The ladies gradually stole unobserved from the room, and left three other gentlemen and myself to contest or rather leave him master of the field of battle.

I felt extremely mortified, and reminded him of his promise.

“Oh!” says he, “what a pity people should be so prejudiced!” One of the most extraordinary properties belonging to Mr. Paine is the power of retaining everything he has written during his life. He can repeat word for word every sentence in his “Common Sense”—“Rights of Man”—“Age of Reason” and others. This I attribute first to the unparalleled slowness with which he composes every passage he writes, and secondly to his dislike of reading other books than his own. Wonderful and productive as his mechanical genius is, he assured me he never has read anything on this subject. This he told me when showing me one day the beautiful models of two bridges he had devised. These models exhibit an extraordinary degree of skill and taste. They are wrought with extreme delicacy, entirely by his own hands. The longest is nearly four feet long, the iron work, the chains and every other article belonging to it were forged and manufactured by himself. It is intended to be a model for a bridge to span the Delaware extending 480 feet, with a single arch. The other is to be erected over a lesser river (whose name indeed I have forgotten), and is likewise a single arch of his own workmanship, excepting the chains, which instead of iron are cut out of paste-board, by the fair hands of his correspondent, “Little Corner of the World.” He was offered £3000 sterling for those models, but has refused it. He intends to dispose of them to the American Government. The iron bars, I noticed in the corner of his room, are also forged by himself, and as the model of a new description of crane. He put them together and exhibited to me the power of a lever in a surprising degree.

It would require the leisure and the memory of James Boswell himself to relate in detail the conversations I had while in Paris with Thomas Paine, or the opinions and anecdotes he recounted. I shall therefore only conclude this account of him with a few words, respecting his acquaintance with Bonaparte.

When the hero of Italy had returned to Paris, in order to take the command of that “Army of England” (whose left wing he afterwards conducted to the burning sands of Egypt instead of the Valley of Thames) he called on Mr. Paine and invited him to dinner.

In the course of his rapturous ecstasies, he declared that a statue of gold ought to be erected to him in every city in the universe; he also assured Paine that he (Bonaparte) always slept with a copy of the “Rights of Man” under his pillow, and conjured him to honour him with his counsel and advice.

BONAPARTE AND PAINE

When the Military Council of Paris, who then directed the movements of Bonaparte, came to a serious consultation about the invasion of England, Mr. Paine was at the sitting by special invitation. After they had ransacked all the plans, charts and projects of the Monarchical Government, Bonaparte submitted to them that they should hear what Citizen Paine had to say on the matter. They were, however, already all of opinion that the measure was impracticable and dangerous in idea, much more in attempt. General d’Arcor, a celebrated engineer (who directed the siege of Gibraltar during the American War), was one of this Council. He laughed at the project, and said there was no Prince Charlie nowadays, and that they might as well attempt to invade the moon as England, considering her superior fleet at sea. “Ah! but,” exclaimed Bonaparte, “there will be a fog.” “Yes,” replied d’Arcor, “but there will be an English fleet in that fog.” “Cannot we pass?” said Bonaparte. “Doubtless,” answered the other, “if you dive below twenty fathoms of water.” Then, looking steadfastly at the hero, “General,” he continued, “the earth is ours, but not the sea; we must recruit our fleets before we can hope to make any impression on England, and even then the enterprise would be fraught with perdition, unless we could raise a diversion among the people.”

Then Bonaparte rose and said with dignity and emphasis: “That is the very point I mean—here is Citizen Paine, who will tell you that the whole English nation, except the Royal Family and the Hanoverians, who have been created Peers of the Realm and absorb the landed property, are ardently burning for fraternisation.”

Paine being called upon said: “It is now many years since I have been in England, and therefore I can judge of it by what I knew when I was there. I think the people are very disaffected, but I am sorry to add that if the expedition should escape the fleet, I think the army would be cut to pieces. The only way to kill England is to annihilate her commerce.” This opinion was backed by all the Council, and Bonaparte, turning to Paine, asked him how long it would take to annihilate British commerce? Paine answered that everything depended on a Peace. From that hour Bonaparte has never spoken to him again, and when he returned from finishing his adventures in Egypt, he passed by him at a grand dinner given to the Generals of the Republic a short time before his usurpation, staring him in the face and then remarking in a loud voice to General Lasnes, “The English are all alike, in every country they are rascals” (canailles).

Mr. Paine thinks the Directorate determined upon the Egyptian expedition in consequence of the rejection of the project to invade England by the Council. The popularity of Bonaparte was so excessive and his inflammatory and determined character so great that they were glad to get rid of him in any way they could. Paine detests and despises Bonaparte, and declares he is the completest charlatan that ever existed.

JOEL BARLOW

Mr. Joel Barlow lives at No. 50, Rue Vaugirard, one of the finest houses in Paris. As he was not at home when I first called, I inquired of the servant if any one lived there besides Mr. Barlow, and was answered that it was his own house and he had purchased it (it was confiscated property and sold much below its value). The next day Mr. Barlow called on me and invited us to visit him, when he received us with great cordiality and showed us over his magnificent hotel. It was however, wholly destitute of furniture, excepting four rooms, occupied by himself and his family. He explained he had bought the house some years previously, purely as a speculation, with the idea that at the return of Peace he might sell it to some English ambassador or nobleman, who should choose to reside in Paris, when he hoped to get £6000 sterling instead of the 6000 livres Français he originally gave for it. It certainly would suit an ambassador in point of accommodation, and its situation is desirable. The lawn at the back, consisting of two acres of pleasure ground, bordered by a shrubbery, is bordered by fruit trees, but it is far from the centre of the city, and I doubt he will get the price he asks, notwithstanding the influx of strangers. He informed me that the instant he had disposed of this property he intended to return to America with Mrs. Barlow. Of the Republic and its rulers he entertains a profound contempt. Respecting the English Government and its rulers, he said very little, but that little was in their favour. He confessed his utter astonishment at the exertions we had made during the War, and avowed that he had entirely mistaken the financial resources and patriotic spirit of Great Britain.

“I have been calculating,” he said, “year by year the downfall of the Government, and could not conceive it possible you could stand up another year. Whenever I took up a paper and saw the Committee of Ways and Means and read of your subsidies, I looked for a national bankruptcy in the course of the ensuing twelve months. But when Mr. Pitt came forward with the Income Tax, all the wise heads of this metropolis (Paris) gave you over as lost, and I pronounced you saved. When I saw the nation cheerfully submit to it, I was convinced you might carry on the war for fifty years.” He spoke of Mr. Pitt in terms which surprised me, and declared he believed in his conscience, if he had dared to execute to the full extent of what he thought, he would have succeeded in changing the face of Europe. “At all events,” said he, “it cannot be denied that he has the merit of having saved the old fabric (meaning the Constitution), if it be worth saving.”

On my asking what he thought of the Peace and our present situation, he said that he saw nothing censurable in it, but had cut out plenty of work for the French which he was sure they would never finish. “If they do, woe betide you!” I asked for an explanation, and he replied, “If the French Government are intent on Peace they will set themselves seriously to work on their colonies; and such is the activity of the French that they will soon repair their losses, create a vast commerce, which their local possessions and influences will facilitate, and they will end with a powerful navy.” On my noticing that they had already excluded our commerce, he answered: “That will just give you an idea what a set of fools they are. This false step at the first start is a convincing proof they don’t know how to go to work. The prohibition of your manufactories has created an avidity for them. They should have opened a free trade with you and gradually cozened away your industry and mechanics. But this Government is in such a confounded hurry that instead of sticking to any given point, it attempts five hundred different projects and only succeeds in one, enslaving the people!”

He thought the Peace might be permanent if any change took place in the Government; but with Bonaparte at its head he was convinced it could not be of long duration. For the First Consul is essentially the creature of the army, and hungry generals and soldiers are hourly importuning him. Unless he could find them employment they would employ him.

I asked if he thought Bonaparte secure. He replied: “Not more so than any of his predecessors; they are satisfied and grateful because he does not use the guillotine, but we have not yet got to the end of the third act of the Revolution. It is impossible to tell, but my guess is it will end either in the complete subjugation of Europe or in a bloody civil war between rival Generals, Republicans, Jacobins and Royalists, and bring back out of its confusion a Royal establishment.”

The Abbé Costi is a phenomenon; he is eighty-four years of age, and as frolicsome as a boy of eighteen. His reputation as the first poet of Italy has long been established, and it is certain he would be now Laureate to the First Consul had it not been for his enthusiastic admiration for the principle of true liberty. We have frequently been in his company, and have always found him in the same lively humour, but it is rather unpleasant to hear him speak, as he has lost the roof of his mouth. He is endeavouring to procure a subscription for a splendid edition of his works, and proposes visiting England for that purpose.

DR. SUEDAEUR

Dr. Suedaeur intended to have gone to Naples and established himself there as a physician, but the sbirri of the Committee of Public Safety arrested him as he was leaving France on foot and in disguise. They gave him his choice—to go to prison and appear a day or two later before the Revolutionary Tribunal, or to be a Director of a public establishment in which some chemical operations were being carried out for the use of the armies. The doctor naturally accepted the latter. As soon as he had taken up his position in his new residence an order came that he was never to go out of the house on pain of being instantly sent to prison. This was a cruel joke, as the doctor was of course virtually a close prisoner during the eighteen months he was superintending this factory. At length he was allowed to breathe the fresh air, attended by a guard, and to visit certain patients; but the guard attended him even into the chambers of the sick, even under circumstances of peculiar delicacy. Upon his presenting a remonstrance against this indecorum, he was sent straight to prison, with a promise that he should be tried with the next batch of prisoners for conspiring against the unity and indivisibility of the Republic. After keeping him in jail for some time, he was taken out of his bed at midnight, put into a hackney coach and brought back to his lodging in the Governmental establishment. The next morning, just as he was putting things there a little in order, he was again arrested and carried before the Committee of General Vigilance, of which the painter David was a present member, who, giving him one of his snarling tiger grins, asked him how he dared as a foreigner have his name inscribed at his Section. While the doctor was endeavouring to explain, David accused him of being an agent of Pitt, and he was remanded to prison. Two days later a guard took him once more to the Committee of Public Safety, who told him there had been a mistake in his affair.

It was a lucky thing the mistake was discovered, as on that very morning all his fellow-prisoners were tried and found guilty of conspiring against the Republic and summarily executed.

He was once again remanded to his Directorship and forbidden to leave his lodgings.

At last an end came to those days of blood and peril, and the doctor was liberated, after being duly ruined. Thrown upon the wide world at his age, when something like comfort and ease had become necessary, he found he had to beat up again his learning through life.

Sometimes he thought of going to America or England. A mere accident repaired his fortunes. A female personage of high consequence was suddenly taken ill in her husband’s absence. Suedaeur attended and cured her. He was thenceforward recommended and pushed among the Governmental people. He now keeps his carriage, and makes, as he tells me, over 50,000 livres (£2000 sterling) per annum.

The effect of his sufferings is, however, very apparent. He looks older than his years. He has lost his vivacity and his tongue is sealed on politics, in which he declares he will never more have any concern.

But he told us many histories of the Terror, and one which struck me as peculiarly sad and horrible I will relate, because it concerns an Englishman.

Young L—— (whose mother is still alive and resides in London) was sent to Paris in order to polish and keep him out of harm’s way. I remember him well; he was a good-natured lad, very incautious, and possessed of great simplicity of manners. He was a most impassioned English patriot, and openly cursed the French and their measures, for which indiscretion Suedaeur remonstrated with him in vain. The Committee of Public Safety, wanting some English heads for exhibition, ordered his arrestation. Suedaeur visited him in prison. He was always merry, full of the heyday of youth, and continued to blaspheme the French Republic. “Rule Britannia” and “God Save the King” were the favourite songs with which he made his prison walls resound. But these very songs proved him to be a “serf” of King George and an agent of Pitt. It was evident, said Fouquier-Tainville, the Public Accuser, that he was engaged in a conspiracy to destroy the unity and indivisibility of the Republic. Accordingly he was brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal, with a vast number of other persons of both sexes, among whom was Colonel Newton, who was sentenced to death for playing at cards.[14]

EXECUTION OF COLONEL NEWTON

As the poor youth knew scarcely anything of the French language, he was quite unaware of what passed. They asked him no questions, merely sentenced him to die. When he returned to prison he was as unconcerned and gay as ever, for he had not the most distant idea he had ever been tried. The next morning he was led down into the courtyard, where the fatal cart, attended by gens-d’armes awaited him. At the same instant Dr. Suedaeur entered the prison to take a last adieu of him and Colonel Newton. Colonel Newton was seated in the cart already, bound and looking very dejected. The spectacle of Newton bound and in that situation surprised and startled the young man, who inquired where they were going to take him. He could not make himself understood, as he did not speak French. At that instant Suedaeur overwhelmed with grief, came up to him. He asked hastily, “Dr. Suedaeur! what are they going to do with me?” “My poor lost boy,” said Suedaeur, quite overcome and bursting into tears, “you are going to instant death!” “To death!” he cried, “I have not been tried!” Then wringing his hands, he exclaimed, “Oh God! Oh God!” and swooned away in the arms of the doctor. While in this condition he was flung into the cart. He recovered before he reached the scaffold, and cried more bitterly. Colonel Newton (who had long served under Suwarroff, and received twelve wounds at the storming of Ishmael, and was colonel of the Regiment of Dragoons which guarded the King to the scaffold), pitying the distress of the youth, employed the last moments of his existence in administering comfort to him. But Nature was uppermost, the misery of his afflicted mother rushed into his mind, and he did not cease to exclaim: “My poor mother! my poor mother!” until the fatal axe closed his eyes upon this world. His person was extremely prepossessing, and the sight of his unaltered countenance was enough to wring a tear from a heart of stone. He was but eighteen years of age, and the only child of his widowed mother.

XLII
HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. MADAME TALLIEN. KOSCIUSKO

Miss Helen Maria Williams[1] lives at the hotel of Alexander Berthier, Minister of War. Helen is a personage, and at the Ministry of War she holds her court.

The notorious Mr. Stone,[1] who has driven away from his side and cruelly ill-used his wife, lives with Helen, in a virtuous philosophical platonic friendship. It is singular so spiritual a damsel should harbour and entertain a man of whom no one, not even in Paris, speaks a good word. It is difficult to describe his services; his functions being so variously compounded of the German squire, the Italian cicisbeo, the English master of the ceremonies, and the French peroquet (as those fellows are termed whom the French Republican ladies keep to puff them, their beauty, toilets and talents in the Journals).

He also acts as her “garde des archives” and her chamberlain. He is in short a man of all work!

These things give no offence in this easy capital, where it is a common thing for a man to sit down at table with his wife and children and his mistress, and vice versâ. I have been present at many of these happy meetings, or, as they are called here, mélanges morales.

LAX VIEWS ON MARRIAGE

A Parisian man of fashion told me the other day in the presence of his wife, a very handsome woman, that after the first child, he thought both parties were at liberty to do as they pleased. This would have been a good plea before an English jury for the mitigation of damages. In Paris they are more enlightened than in London, and you never hear of a single action for “crim. con.” from beginning to the end of the year in the French capital.

I have assisted at a dinner given by Madame Tallien,[1] who has long been separated from her husband, and now lives with a rich merchant, who I mentioned in a former letter as the present proprietor of the late Duke of Orleans’ château of Rincy. There were sixteen persons at table, exclusive of Madame and her “cher ami,” and one of the sixteen was Tallien himself. He sat by the side of his ci-devant spouse, and was engaged during most of the banquet in an animated and almost affectionate conversation with her.

A fashionable French philosopher has lately announced, after the most recondite meditation, that he has discovered “marriage to be the most odious of all monopolies.” This important discovery has, so far, made no progress in England; but in this city, the favourite abode of true philosophy, it is taught in every stoa poecile. If I could borrow the pencil of Gilray, I might hope to delineate this nuptial banquet in its proper colours—a banquet at which Venus Suadala was present, accompanied by all the Loves and Graces in playful dalliance.

When Tallien was in Egypt, his patriotic wife, feeling for the grievous losses which the Republic had sustained in the number of its sons cut off by the sword, pestilence and famine, with a generous and disinterested ardour contributed her material labours towards making up the deficiency in the population. Two little Republicans, presented to the State during her husband’s absence, attest her zeal, and it is pleasant to add she was by no means singular in this sublime and Spartan devotion.

On the return of the illustrious Commissioner, he followed (for it is by no means etiquette for a husband and wife to go together) his lovely spouse to a ball.

When he arrived, he found her in a state so resembling a state of nature (she had but one apology for a garment, and that was of the thinnest muslin), that he was indignant. He reproached her for her indecent attire, and received the reply that he was free to get another wife to dress more to his mind. She told him coolly that she had never loved him, and only married him to save her life. But that as she was no longer in terror of the guillotine, he was welcome to her fortune, but should have nothing more to do with her person. “You know,” she added, “what I can tell if I choose.”

The ladies of Paris, from Madame Bonaparte downwards, highly approve of the spirited conduct of Madame Tallien, whom they consider a persecuted beauty as well as a charming woman.

The fact is that when she was Marquise de Fontenay, and in prison at Bordeaux, Tallien, then on a mission to that city, which he was reorganising in torrents of blood, proposed to save her head if she would surrender to him her purse and person, but threatened her with death should she reject his offer. She gave her hand, therefore, to this renowned Sans Culotte—a circumstance which engendered an irreconcilable hatred between him and Robespierre, which exploded on the 9th of Thermidor in favour of the former.

Some of Tallien’s exploits during the Revolution are worthy of record. In the days of September 1792, he knocked out with his own hands the brains of one old priest eighty years old, and bludgeoned six others. At Bordeaux only eighteen persons were executed on his own personal recommendation, but he brought away with him from that city 1,700,000 livres (£64,000 sterling) in solid cash—money paid to him as bribes for generously restoring to liberty “good citizens he discovered to have been falsely accused.”

WILLIAMS AND BECCARIA

But to return from this digression to Helen Williams. This priestess of the Revolution has a nightly synod at her apartments, to which the political dramatists and literati of the capital resort. Here she is in her glory. Perched like the bird of wisdom on her shrine, she snuffs up the mounting incense of adulation offered up by homicides and plunderers of the public. At the instant of inspiration she becomes convulsed like the Delphic Priestess. By an ingenious device she contracts her lips into the form of a pipe, and literally whistles out the words of the oracle she pronounces. The keeper of the archives is at hand to record what passes for the benefit of the booksellers. The instant each ruling party is overthrown, out come two or four little duodecimos, which this fanatical female calls “Anecdotes of the Founders of the French Revolution,” &c., in which she records all their sayings, and abuses in turn those whom she before received with smiles at her conversaziones. If you wish to become acquainted with a devil in the shape of a philosopher, a general, a legislator, a quiz or a thief, you will find any of these characters at Helen’s coteries.

I mention Madame de Beccaria in this place by way of a contrast. She is the daughter of the celebrated Marquis de Beccaria, author of the book on Crimes and Punishments. Elegant in her manners, she is possessed of a pleasing person, and is modest, affable, and good-natured. Though a rigid Catholic, she does not pose as a saint, nor does she keep a coterie, or wish to take advantage of her father’s celebrity to collect around her the fops of philosophy. She had a great disappointment in her marriage. Her husband was an Italian nobleman, whose union with her has been annulled on account of his insanity.

Madame de Beccaria[1] will go to England very shortly for the purpose of having her father’s writings translated there. She made me a present of her father’s portrait, assuring me that he never wrote an Italian work entitled Saggio sopra la Politica e la Legislatione Romana.

Kosciusko has disappointed my expectations; perhaps I judge of him too rashly, but if in two hours’ conversation with any man upon subjects most interesting, not a spark of extraordinary light is emitted, I think it is but fair to conclude that such a man is not fit to move out of the common circle. According to my way of thinking, the negro General Toussaint is immeasurably his intellectual superior. But his valour and sufferings will always excite sympathy, and the cause in which he strove the interest of mankind.

CONCLUSION

We did not experience any difficulty in getting out of Paris, after our four months’ stay there.

I went to the office of Minister Talleyrand with my passport. It was punctually returned by noon the next day, and after sending our heavy luggage to the office of the diligence and laid in a stock of provisions for the journey, we stepped into our chaise and took our leave of the French capital. As it was my wish to gratify my companion with the sight of as much of France as our time would permit, we did not return by the road we came, but shaped our course for Brussels. The account of that extensive tour would be out of place here, being too long for insertion. Suffice it to say that though bowed down under the yoke of a most horrible despotism, the rest of France, unlike Paris, presents everywhere objects of interest and sympathy. The moral influence of the Revolution has by no means wrought such pernicious effects as might have been expected. The people retained much of their civility and engaging manners of former times, and until my second interview with the brutal Mengard at Calais, there was not one place from Senlis where we did not feel a regret at leaving.

CONCLUSION

The roads are inconceivably wretched; and sometimes very dangerous. We were often obliged to go for many miles at a foot’s pace. Between Arras and Lille ruts were often three feet deep, our traces were continually breaking, and fresh horses constantly required. In some places the people did not even know the Peace had been signed, for no English had come that way. While getting out of the carriage they once asked me, with looks of inexpressible anxiety, whether I had brought them peace at last. On my answering “Yes,” they exclaimed: “Ah! but has the King of England signed it?”

These letters give my opinions of the present Government of France. I purpose, however, to give the subject a more ample and serious discussion, although I do not pledge myself to execute this work.

I left the Republic convinced that it was the interest of France to be at peace with England, but with manifold doubts of that Peace’s long continuance.

APPENDIX

[BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES]

TO

LETTERS FROM FRANCE

IN 1802

THESE BIOGRAPHIES COMPRISE SHORT NOTICES OF CERTAIN PERSONS MENTIONED BY MR. REDHEAD YORKE IN HIS LETTERS FROM FRANCE.

I HAVE NOT THOUGHT IT NECESSARY TO INCLUDE THEREIN BIOGRAPHIES OF ANY MEMBER OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY NOR OF SUCH WELL-KNOWN ENGLISHMEN AS WILLIAM PITT AND CHARLES FOX, BUT MERELY ENDEAVOURED TO GIVE A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF CERTAIN LEADING CHARACTERS IN THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION WHOM A LATER GENERATION HAS FORGOTTEN, AND ALSO DESCRIBED CERTAIN OTHER HISTORICAL PERSONAGES.

V. A. C. SYKES.

APPENDIX

ADAMS, John.

The sailor who led the mutiny on the Bounty against Lieutenant Bligh in 1789. Fearing the eventual reprisals of the British Government, he persuaded a number of his companions to leave Otaheite and seek fortune among the then unknown islands of the Southern Sea. They eventually settled at Pitcairn Island, and founded a colony.

John Adams was born in 1754 and died at Pitcairn Island, May 5, 1829, having fully earned the title by which he was known—“The Patriarch of Pitcairn.”

ANDRON.

A Greek sculptor, believed to have lived some time in the second century A.D.

BARNAVE, Antony Peter Joseph Marie.

Born at Grenoble, October 22, 1761; executed in Paris, November 30, 1793. One of the great promoters of that Revolution of which he eventually became a victim.

His father was a Procurator of Parliament and his mother the daughter of a military officer. In those days professions were hereditary, and young Barnave was therefore destined for the Bar. In early life he showed signs of talent and an impetuous disposition; he was sixteen when he fought his first duel, and he published a remarkable book at the age of twenty.

In 1783 he was chosen by the lawyers of the Grenoble Bar to pronounce the speech before the vacation at the local Parliament. He chose for his subject “The Divisions of Political Power in a State.” This discourse excited much interest, not only in Dauphiny, but all over France; the speaker was then twenty-two years of age.

His political career did not commence until he was twenty-eight, when, having been elected Deputy to the States-General, he proceeded to Versailles.

Barnave was, a few days after the opening of that Assembly, named a Commissioner by the “Tiers Etat,” and he composed the first petition, or address, that body presented to the King. During the session of the Assembly he became more and more prominent; he was still a believer in the monarchical system, and—under a constitutional form of government—a strong supporter of the throne.

On October 25, 1790, Barnave was elected President of the Assembly.

A few weeks after the death of Mirabeau, April 2, 1791, the Royal Family fled from Paris and were arrested at Varennes: Barnave was commissioned with Pêthion to bring them back to Paris. The many hours he thus spent in their company greatly influenced him in their favour, and the Queen’s charm exercised an influence over him which dominated the remainder of his short life. The question of the inviolability of Royalty arose immediately after the King’s return, and Barnave made a moving and eloquent speech on this subject. The discussion of the new Constitution commenced on August 8, 1791. On the 14th the King took the oath, and on the 30th the Assembly was dissolved.

The public career of Barnave then terminated, and his final speech was made before a different tribunal. He returned to Grenoble in January 1792, and there wrote “The Introduction to the French Revolution.” On August 15 of the same year the Deputy La Rivière denounced the author of this book from the Tribune; on the 29th of the same month Barnave was arrested. After ten months’ imprisonment at Grenoble he was removed to Paris on November 3, 1793. He appeared on December 28 before the Revolutionary Tribunal; two days later he perished.

Barnave addressed the crowd from the scaffold, his last words being, as he pointed to the fatal knife, “This is the reward for all I have done for France and for Liberty.”

BARBŒUF (surnamed “Caius Gracchus”), François Noel.

Born at St. Quintin in 1764; died May 25, 1797.

In early life he was apprenticed to an architect, and when quite a young man he wrote articles for newspapers at Amiens. He hailed with joy the principles of the Revolution.

He was tried in 1790, in Paris, owing to the violence of his writings; although acquitted, he had to undergo another trial in 1792, under an accusation of embezzlement, when he was a second time acquitted and soon after appointed administrator of a Department; he did not return to Paris until Thermidor 1794.

He created the journal Le Tribun du Peuple, and developed in its pages, under the synonym “Caius Gracchus,” the doctrine of the absolute equality of mankind. Two years later Babœuf and his followers, now a numerous body, constituted themselves into a secret society, with the object of re-establishing the régime of 1793.

This society spread its emissaries over France, and early in 1796 was prepared for a rising. With the aid of 16,000 men, soldiers belonging to the garrison of Paris, and of artillery posted at Vincennes and at the Invalides, and of certain disaffected members of Grenadiers and police, together with a large number of the labouring classes—these conspirators planned to seize the Directorate, the Legislative Assembly, and the Military Staff of the Etat Major. Their arrangements were apparently perfect, but, as is usual in such cases, traitors among the plotters revealed the whole scheme to the Directorate. The heads of this conjuration, to the number of sixty-five, were arrested, and Babœuf himself was seized just as he was dictating the manifesto which was to be issued after the rising had taken place.

The trial of the conspirators lasted three months and was held at Vendôme. After the sentence of death was pronounced, Babœuf and his friend Dârtre stabbed themselves, but were nevertheless, like Robespierre and his friends, carried in an expiring condition to the scaffold and beheaded.

Babœuf’s principles were those of the most advanced Socialism, one of his precepts for the government of the Utopia of his dreams being, “Whoever pronounces the word ‘property’ shall be imprisoned as a dangerous madman.”

BARBAROUX, Charles Jean Marie.

Born in Marseilles, 1767; guillotined at Bordeaux, June 23, 1794.

As a very young man he showed scientific aptitude, and when quite a boy was in correspondence with Franklin. He became an advocate at the Bar of Marseilles, and had already obtained much success as a pleader when the Revolution broke out.

He was made secretary to the new Commune of Marseilles, and after quelling a Royalist insurrection at Arles, was despatched to Paris as Deputy for Marseilles. He became a member of the “Jacobin Club,” and an intimate friend and ally of Roland and his wife. He took an active part in the events of August 10, 1792, and was soon after named President of the “Elective Assembly,” and, later, a member of the Convention. From the outset of his legislative career he was an opponent of the Extreme Left; he denounced Robespierre and Marat, insisting upon the punishment of the authors of the bloody massacres of September. An excellent economist, Barbaroux treated in a masterly manner the question of commercial administration.

At the trial of Louis XVI. he voted against the execution of the monarch. A movement was set on foot to drive Barbaroux from the Convention, and on May 31 he was forced to fly from Paris. He was declared a traitor to his country. At Caen he had an interview with Charlotte Corday, and it is he who is supposed to have inspired this young girl with the idea of killing Marat.

He was a man of remarkable personal beauty, and unjustly accused of having carried on a guilty intrigue with Mme. Roland. He took refuge at Bordeaux, but was discovered and arrested. Although he shot himself twice, he retained sufficient appearance of life to enable the possibility of his public execution.

BARRAS, Jean Paul François, Comte de.

Born in 1755 at Lohenpoux, Provence; died at Chaillot, near Paris, 1829.

He entered the army at the age of eighteen, went with his regiment to the Ile de France in 1775, and eventually joined the French Indian Army at Pondicherry. After the capture of that town he took service under Suffren, and spent some time at the Cape of Good Hope, returning to France with the rank of captain.

He then proceeded to lead a life of debauchery and extravagance. Many ruined rakes perceived in the Revolution a chance, as they thought, of retrieving their fallen fortunes; among such was Barras. He was present at the attack on the Bastille in 1789, and at the sack of the Tuileries three years later. He was a member of the Convention, and voted for the instant execution of Louis XVI. without appeal.

As a delegate to the South of France he assisted in those sanguinary repressions of the revolt against the Republic in Provence. At Nice he arrested Brunet and Trogoff, whom he accused of ceding Toulon to the English. He was present at the siege and capture of that town, and helped to carry out horrible massacres of supposed traitors. Nevertheless, he was an object of distrust to Robespierre, who disliked the intense immorality of his private life, and doubted the sincerity of his Republicanism. Barras therefore directed his efforts towards the overthrow of the Montagne, and was the principal instigator of the events of Thermidor, which led to the fall of Robespierre.

Later he obtained control of the home military force—and the Presidency of the Convention. He declared Paris in a state of siege, and when the mob surrounded the Assembly, shouting for bread and the Constitution of 1793, he directed the armed force which dispersed the people.

To him Bonaparte owed the command, by which the latter, in the name of Barras, suppressed the attempted Royalist revolution.

During the Directorate, Barras reigned practically alone until the advent of Sièyes. He amassed a vast fortune, although during his official reign he squandered money lavishly upon his pleasures and lived in great state.

The Revolution of the 18th Brumaire annulled his political power, and he sought and obtained permission to leave Paris.

During the rest of his life he ceased to be a man of any public importance; he was frequently exiled, and perpetually intriguing with the Bourbons. After the second Restoration he returned to Paris, and settled at Chaillot, where he died at the age of seventy-four.

BARRÈRE DE VIEUZAC, Bertrand.

Born at Tarbes, September 10, 1755; died January 15, 1841.

He studied law and was advocate to the Parliament of Toulouse. Later he returned to Tarbes, from whence he eventually went as Deputy to the States-General. Here he soon took a prominent place, defending the liberty of the press; and brought forward successfully numerous motions as to the confiscation of Crown lands and the declarations of the rights of citizens.

The National Assembly being dissolved, Barrère became a member of the Tribunal of Cassation, and in 1792 Deputy for the Department of the Upper Pyrenees. He publicly defended the September massacres on the ground of their being a necessity to save the State. He was elected President of the Convention of December 1792, his first act being to press for the immediate judgment of “Louis the Traitor,” as he termed the King, saying that “the tree of Liberty would never flourish until it had been watered by the blood of kings.” He voted the death of Louis XVI. without respite, and later in the year brought forward a project of ostracism against the Duke of Orleans and the Ministers Roland and Pache.

The triumph of the Montagne over the Girondins caused Barrère to join forces with the former. Terror for his own life made him ruthless in the destruction of the lives of others.

He became in July 1793 a member of the Committee of Public Safety, and, soon after, chief of that body, and its principal acts were carried out by his order and at his instigation. By his command the royal tombs at St. Denis were destroyed, Paoli declared a traitor, the expulsion of those English who arrived in France after July 14, 1789, decreed, as well as instant confiscation of all property belonging to the émigrés. He caused the Château de Caen to be razed to the ground, sent troops to punish Lyons, created a revolutionary army, and promulgated the decree, “Terror is the order of the day.” He also planned the speedy execution of the Queen, and proposed that every Frenchman who had not already made his declaration of adhesion to the Republic should be transported, and all persons accused of spreading false news brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal. He implored the Assembly to treat with the utmost severity all enemies of the nation, saying: “Have pity on them to-day and they will massacre you to-morrow. It is only the dead who cannot return.”

Until the fall of Robespierre, Barrère was his lieutenant and obedient servant; but after the coup d’état against Robespierre, Barrère was violent and condemnatory against the “conspirator whose projects had up to then been veiled in mystery.” Nevertheless, Barrère did not succeed in escaping; he was arrested, with Callot, D’Herbois and Billaud, on March 2, 1795. He and they were condemned to transportation, but later on Barrère obtained a re-trial of his case, and was removed to another prison, from which he succeeded in making his escape. He evaded re-arrest until the law of amnesty for political prisoners was passed. He remained in obscurity till 1815, when, during “the hundred days,” he was elected a Deputy.

After the second Restoration he was banished as a regicide, and retired to Brussels, where he resided until 1830, when he returned to France and there remained until his death, at the age of eighty-six years, in 1841.

BLANCHARD DE DA MUSSE, François Gabriel Ursin.

Born at Nantes, 1752; died at Rennes in 1836.

A pupil and friend of Delisle de Salés. He was called to the Bar at Rennes, capital of Brittany, and became Councillor of the Parliament of that town. He was one of those arrested suspects saved by the Revolution of Thermidor, 1794.

After the 18th Brumaire his well-known honesty and amiability of character caused his nomination as a judge of the High Court at Trèves and later Nantes. In 1815 he was, as a Liberal, deprived of his functions, but reinstated the following year.

He wrote much poetry and several philosophical treatises.

BRISSOT DE WARVILLE, Jean Pierre.

Born at Chartres, January 1754; executed in Paris, October 1793.

The thirteenth child of a wealthy innkeeper, Brissot early showed signs of talent, and his first book, Théories des Lois criminelles, evoked a complimentary letter from the aged Voltaire, to whom the work was dedicated.

In Paris, Brissot entered a lawyer’s office, where Robespierre was his fellow clerk. But he soon abandoned law for journalism, and became a well-known pamphleteer. He visited England, and his book upon English literature was at one time considered a classic.

On his return from England he was falsely accused of being the author of a lampoon upon the Queen of France, and imprisoned in the Bastille. Here he remained four months, but was released by the influence of Mdme. de Genlis and the Duke of Orleans. He was advised to take refuge in London. He joined the Abolition of Slavery League, and resolved to establish a similar League in France under the title of Les Amis des Noirs. He went to America to study the question of slavery.

On his return from America he devoted all his talents and his efforts to add to the impetus of the French Revolution.

Brissot was elected one of the members for Paris in the National Assembly. An honest man and a true patriot, he fought against anarchy. He was an opponent of the massacres of September, and of the King’s trial.

Constantly attacked by the Robespierre faction, he was arrested at Moulins; incarcerated in the Abbaye at Paris; condemned to death with twenty-one of his friends on October 12, 1793, and executed on the following day.

Brissot was one of the writers who exercised great influence in those various publications which aided the advance of the French Revolution, and accelerated that movement. His books on law and legislature, his innumerable pamphlets, his speeches at the Assembly and Convention, attest his earnest devotion to the Revolutionary cause in its infancy.

BOURDON DE L’OISE, François Louis.

Born at Rémy, near Campièges; died in 1797 at Simamari in Guiana.

He commenced his career as a lawyer, became Procureur of the Parliament of Paris, and eventually embraced the Revolutionary cause in 1789, taking part in the attack on the Tuileries, August 10, 1792.

He became a member of the Convention by a trick. Another François Louis Bourdon, to whom he was in no way related, was elected both by the Department of l’Oise and also that of the Loiret as a Member of the Convention. This Bourdon chose to represent the Loiret; and his namesake, whom the electors had never seen, profiting by the similarity of names, presented himself to the Convention, took his seat without any difficulty, and held it without question.

He first distinguished himself by the ferocity of his utterances. He voted for the death of Louis XVI. without an appeal to the people, and denounced all the more moderate Deputies, such as Brissot, as being Royalists at heart. He defended the Reign of Terror, violently attacking the Abbé Grégoire for his desire to Christianise the Revolution.

As he later showed signs of pity towards the Royal insurgents in La Vendée, Robespierre and Hébert accused him of moderation, and caused him to be excluded from the Jacobin Club. Bourdon, alarmed, threw his influence in the scale against Robespierre in the Thermidor contra-Revolution, and went so far as to suggest that every Deputy who resisted the decree for Robespierre’s arrest should be shot upon the spot. He was one of the escort that accompanied Robespierre and his partisans to the scaffold.

From this time Bourdon declared himself the enemy of the Revolutionary system, and the protector of priests and nobles. Nevertheless, when sent to Chârtres to discover traces of those who were supposed to have plotted against the Convention, Bourdon showed excessive and merciless cruelty. He eventually became a Member of the Council of the Five Hundred, and realised a large fortune by dealing in assignats and in the national property.

The Directorate contained many of his mortal enemies, who inscribed his name upon the list of those to be transported to Cayenne, and he was arrested and deported; shortly after his arrival at Simamari Bourdon expired, broken down by impotent rage, remorse and despair.

BITANBÉ, Paul Jeremie.

Born at Kœnigsburg in Prussia, 1732; died in Paris, 1808.

Descended from a Huguenot family, banished from France by the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. He was a learned student, and a voluminous writer.

His translation of the Iliad, published in Berlin in 1762, brought him the patronage of Frederick the Great, who allowed him to settle in France, in order that he might perfect his knowledge of the French language. He published various translations from the Greek in Paris, and was naturalised as a French citizen.

He was arrested during the Terror, and, together with his wife, suffered a lengthy imprisonment; the 9th Thermidor brought his release.

He was one of the principal members of the new Institut, and there represented literature and the fine arts. His writings are somewhat marred by the fact that they were composed by a man who had not thoroughly grasped the intricacies of the French language.

LE BON, Josephe.

Born at Arras, September 25, 1765; executed at Amiens, 1795.

He made his first studies at an Oratorian College, and eventually became a member of that congregation. At the age of eighteen, he was already a teacher of rhetoric in the College of Béaune in Burgundy, and enjoyed a great reputation for piety and learning. His sympathy with the Revolution caused him to become a “Constitutional” parish priest at Vernois, and a year later he was appointed to a cure of souls near Arras.

Robespierre, St. Just, and Le Bas were his intimate friends: at their persuasion he abandoned Christianity, married, and adopted a political career. He was appointed Mayor of Arras and Syndic for the whole Department of Pas de Calais, and, at first, showed much judgment and great moderation.

In 1793 he was despatched on a mission to the Pas du Calais, and was at first so indulgent, that Suffray, his neighbour and enemy, denounced him to the Committee of Public Safety as a protector of the aristocrats and a persecutor of patriots. He was recalled to Paris, but under Robespierre’s guarantee and his own promise to redeem the past, was sent back to the Pas de Calais with unlimited powers, and the order to crush the anti-revolutionary movement in the towns of this Department. He carried out these orders without mercy. Terrified by these responsibilities and by the fact that the Austrian army occupied the neighbouring frontier, he imagined enemies of the Republic on every side, and wherever he went blood flowed freely. So great, however, were his cruelties that he was again accused. But Barrère declared that Le Bon had saved Cambrai by his energy, and for a time the accusation lapsed; his severities, however, made his enemies thirst for revenge. In May 1795, a committee was appointed to inquire into his conduct, and the report they returned was:

1. That he had been guilty of public assassination.

2. Of oppressing citizens.

3. Exercising personal vengeance in his summary executions of accused persons.

He was then tried and found guilty of an “unlimited abuse of the guillotine.”

Le Bon exclaimed, as they dressed him in the red garment reserved for murderers upon their road to the scaffold; “It is not I who should wear this garment, but those whose orders I obeyed.” He showed pitiable cowardice at his execution, and his cries and groans rent the air.

Lamartine says of Le Bon:

He decimated the Departments of Le Nord and Pas du Calais. This man is a striking example of the kind of vertigo by which men of weak mind are affected in great political crises. Certain periods of history excite criminality. Blood is in the air. Revolutionary fever has its delirium. Le Bon during his short life of thirty years experienced all the phases of this mental disease. In ordinary times he would have left behind him the reputation of a worthy, respectable, and religious man. In those sinister days he became a pitiless proscriptor.

BEAUHARNAIS, Eugène, Duke de Leuchtenberg, Prince of Eichstadt, Viceroy of Italy.

Born in Paris, 1781, died February 22, 1824.

His father was executed by order of the Revolutionary Tribunal in 1794, and his mother would have shared the same fate but for the fall of Robespierre. At the age of fourteen he was taken by General Hoche, who had been his father’s friend, to join the army in Brittany. His mother’s marriage to Napoleon in 1796 changed the course of his existence. In 1797 he was created sub-lieutenant, and from that time was the constant companion of his stepfather; and for the future that stepfather’s fortunes were his own.

He was only twenty-four when he became ruler of Italy, and showed extraordinary intelligence and moderation during his Vice-Royalty. After the signature of the Treaty of Pressburg, he married in 1806 Princess Louisa of Bavaria, and Napoleon bestowed upon him the titles of “Prince of the Empire, adopted son and heir-presumptive to the crown of Italy.”

After the fall of Napoleon, Prince Eugène retired with his wife and family to Bavaria, and was created Duke de Leuchtenberg by the King, his father-in-law. He spent a few years in seclusion, devoting himself to the education of his children. He died suddenly from an accident when only forty-three years of age.

His sons and daughters made brilliant alliances, his eldest son marrying Donna Maria della Gloria, Queen Regnant of Portugal; his younger son, Olga, daughter of the Emperor Nicholas. Of his daughters, the eldest became Queen of Sweden, the second Princess Hohenzollern, and the third Empress of Brazil.

The present Russian semi-Imperial family of Leuchtenberg is descended from Prince Eugène.

BARLOW, Joel.

Born at Reading in Connecticut, 1755; died in December 1812, in Russian Poland.

He served as chaplain to a regiment during the American War of Independence, and attained some celebrity by the patriotic songs he composed.

In 1788 he abandoned the clerical profession and sailed for Europe as agent of the Ohio Company. He settled in Paris, where he identified himself with the Revolutionary party, and was intimate with the leaders of the Girondins.

In 1791 he published several pamphlets and poems in favour of the Revolution, and in 1792 he addressed “A letter to the National Convention” begging them to abolish royalty, and presented in person an address to that Assembly from English Republicans. When the Abbé Gregoire went to Savoy on a special mission from the Convention, Barlow accompanied him and made many speeches at Chambéry against the King of Savoy.

On his return to Paris he was appointed American Consul at Tripoli; in 1805, after another long stay in Paris, he returned to America; in 1811 he was sent as American Minister to Paris. The following year he started to join the Duke de Bassano in Russia, which the French had just invaded, but falling ill on his way to Wilna he expired in a miserable village near Cracow.

CAMBACÈRES and Prince of Parma, Jean Jaques Régis, Duc de.

Born at Montpellier, 1753; died at Paris, 1824.

He belonged to an ancient family of the Long Robe, and many of his ancestors and family connections had been distinguished lawyers and churchmen. He was intended for the magistrature, and made law his chief study. In 1789 he proceeded to Paris and became a popular leader during the first years of the Revolution. He was elected a member of the Convention in 1792. Through the next two stormy years Cambacères, by the exercise of extreme prudence, kept himself free from suspicion, although he was never identified with the extreme party, and opposed the execution of Louis XVI. He was President of the Assembly in 1794, and a member of the Committee of Public Safety. He was Minister of Justice during the Directory, and when Napoleon Bonaparte assumed the head of affairs after the eighteenth Brumaire he appointed Cambacères as Second Consul, with power to act for the First Consul during the latter’s absence.

When Napoleon assumed the title of Emperor Cambacères was created Arch-Chancellor, with perpetual Presidency of the Senate. He held this position during the whole of the reign of Napoleon I. None of his councillors were esteemed more highly by the Emperor than Cambacères; his advice was usually moderate and sensible. He opposed the Austrian marriage and the Russian campaign. It was he who in 1814 conducted Marie Louise and her child to Blois and delivered them over to the Austrian commissioners. Her flight from Paris was contrary to his advice.

During “the hundred days” he resumed his position as Chancellor. The Second Restoration banished him from France as a regicide. In 1818 the decree of his banishment was reversed, and he returned to Paris, where he died six years later at the age of seventy-one.

CARNOT, Lazare Nicholas Marguerite.

Born at Noisy, Burgundy, 1753; died at Magdeburg, in Prussia, 1827.

Educated in Paris at a military school he joined the army with the grade of lieutenant in 1773. He was soon distinguished by his scientific attainments as well as his literary talents.

When the Revolution broke out Carnot addressed many memorials to the Assembly on the subject of financial reform. Had his proposals been then carried out national bankruptcy might have been prevented.

He became a Deputy in 1791, and after the events of August 10, 1792, Carnot was despatched to the Republican army of the Rhine. During the next two years he commanded armies on the frontier, and gained many brilliant victories. He took no part in the atrocities of the Terror, but has been unjustly accused both by his contemporaries and by posterity of having approved the massacres at Avignon and the executions at Lyons. As a member of the Committee of Public Safety his name is attached to the decrees ordering these cruel punishments, but he was at this time fighting on the banks of the Rhine. He hated Robespierre and Robespierre detested him, often saying, “We need Carnot now for the war, but as soon as the war is over his head shall fall.”

Carnot became one of the five Directors, and in that capacity gave Napoleon Bonaparte command of the army of Italy. During that campaign the other four Directors opposed Carnot; he was stripped of his office and even of his seat in the Institut, a body he had virtually founded, was impeached and forced to fly for his life to Switzerland. He remained in exile until the events of the 18th Brumaire, when he was recalled and appointed Minister of War and Tribune. He was opposed to the creation of a life consulate, and later on to that of an Empire.

From 1807 to 1813 he retired into private life, employing his leisure in scientific studies and the education of his children. The disasters of 1813 brought him out of his retreat, and he again offered his services to the Emperor.

Napoleon appointed him Governor of Antwerp on January 24, 1814, which place he defended with so much ability that it was still in the possession of the French at the conclusion of the war. He again retired into private life, but when Napoleon returned from Elba he made Carnot Minister of the Interior. He held his appointment for less than three months, but during that short period brought about many educational reforms which are still in use.

After Waterloo, Carnot was a member of the Provisional Government, but as soon as the Bourbons returned he was banished and outlawed. The Emperor Alexander gave him a passport to Poland. He eventually fixed his residence with his family at Magdeburg in Prussia, where he died at the age of seventy.

CHAPTAL, Comte de Chanteloup, Jean Antoine.

Born June 4, 1756; died 1832.

A celebrated chemist. His uncle, a rich physician at Montpellier, gave him his first education. He studied chemistry at the University of Montpellier, received the title of Doctor in 1777, and went to Paris. In 1781 he returned to his native town a celebrated man.

The State of Languedoc founded in his honour a Professorship of Chemistry at the School of Medicine. Chaptal had adopted the theories of Lavoisier. The young professor considered chemistry, then in its infancy, likely to become the most useful and practical of sciences. By his uncle’s death he inherited a large fortune, and he devoted the whole of it to constructing various laboratories, where experiments could be carried out, and large establishments in which scientific productions might be manufactured.

By his inventive studies, and assisted by his large fortune, manufactories of alum, soda, and saltpetre were successfully established, and the Government recompensed this work by giving him a patent of nobility and the Grand Cordon of the Order of St. Michael.

Chaptal adopted all the ideas of the Revolution, although he disapproved its excesses. He was in consequence arrested; but his scientific knowledge was too important to the Government, and he was liberated and appointed Director of the Saltpetre Manufactory at Grenoble. After this he directed also the re-organisation of the School of Medicine. During the Consulate, Chaptal succeeded Lucien Bonaparte as Minister of the Interior, and in that capacity rendered great service to the State; he was appointed Treasurer of the Senat, under the title of Count Chanteloup. When Napoleon returned from Elba, Chaptal accepted the portfolio of Minister of Commerce. After the Restoration, Louis XVIII. erased his name from the list of Peers of France, but a few years later his peerage was restored. He was a member of the Academy of Sciences, and wrote several important scientific works in his old age.

Before his death, at the age of seventy-five, he had many pecuniary misfortunes, and died in comparative poverty.

CIMAROSA, Domenico.

Born 1749 at Aversa, in the Kingdom of Naples; died in Venice, 1801.

The son of a poor mason, he was but seven years of age when his father was killed by a fall from a scaffold. In her distress the boy’s mother applied to a charitable monk for help. This good man gave Cimarosa a few Latin lessons, and was so struck by the child’s intelligence that he decided to adopt him. This monk was organist of the convent, and taught his pupil music. Discovering the boy’s extraordinary aptitude for musical composition, he obtained his admission into the Conservatory at Santa Maria di Loretto.

At the age of twenty-four Cimarosa produced his first opera at Naples. His next ten years were a succession of triumphs, and he produced innumerable operas and other musical compositions. In 1787 the Empress Catherine offered him the title of Imperial Composer, with a high salary. He journeyed to Russia, was treated with great distinction, and many operas written by him in Russia were performed during his five years’ stay in that country. He returned to Naples in 1793.

In 1799 he joined the Revolutionary party in Italy, was thrown into prison, and but for the intercession of the Russian Ambassador would have been executed. Upon his release he took refuge at Venice, where he died.

He composed over a hundred operas, many of which still hold the stage.

CLOOTZ (surnamed ANACHARSIS), Jean Baptiste, Baron de.

Born in Cleves in Germany, 1755; guillotined in Paris, 1794.

He was educated in Paris, possessed considerable natural intelligence, but was led astray by the violent excitability of his nature. He had confused dreams of social regeneration, and declared that his life was to be devoted to the reformation of the world.

He inherited a vast fortune, renounced his title of baron, taking the romantic name of Anacharsis, travelled over Germany, Italy and England, preaching his extraordinary doctrines, and spending money with unbridled extravagance.

The French Revolution filled him with delirious joy; it appeared to realise all his mad projects. On June 19, 1790, he presented himself at the bar of the Assembly to read an address in which he requested that all strangers residing in Paris might be admitted to the Grand Federation which was to take place on July 14 of the same year. He called himself “the Ambassador of Humanity” to France, and gave large sums to the “nation” for the fitting out of a regiment “to fight in the holy war against tyranny.”

The events of August 10 seem to have shaken Clootz’s reason. Not content with attacking all the kings and princes of the earth, he delivered a violent tirade against the Almighty, declaring himself the personal enemy of God. He publicly abjured all religion. He complimented the Convention upon their victories near the Rhine, and requested the members to put prices upon the heads of the Duke of Brunswick and the King of Prussia. A decree of August 20, 1792, having granted him the title of citizen, he repaired to the Bar of the Assembly and delivered a long speech of thanks, and in the praise of regicide. After he became a member of the Convention he wearied his co-Deputies by long rambling speeches. He voted for the death of the King “in the name of the whole generation of mankind,” adding, “he personally condemned Frederick William of Prussia to death.”

Robespierre was his secret enemy, and by his (Robespierre’s) influence Clootz was excluded from the club of the Jacobins and arrested, the only accusation against him being that he was rich and of noble birth. Clootz was condemned to death with his supposed accomplices. He received his sentence with calmness, and passed his remaining hours preaching materialism to his fellow victims. At the scaffold he requested permission to suffer last, as he wished to make some observations while watching the heads of his companions fall.

He wrote several books, as strange in their contents as was his own character.

CONDORCET, Jean Antoine Nicolas de Carinton, Marquis de.

Born at Ribemont, in Picardy, 1743.

A member of a very ancient and noble family: being her only surviving son, his mother devoted him to the Virgin, making him wear girl’s clothes until the age of eleven.

He became one of the most illustrious mathematicians and philosophers of France. He was not quite twenty-two when he presented his celebrated essay, “Sur le calcul intégral” before the Academy. He was elected member of the Academy of Science after composing an eulogy on the death of La Fontaine in 1771.

During the next fifteen years he published many books of historical and philosophical interest.

Turgot inspired Condorcet with a taste for political economy.

In 1789, notwithstanding his great position in the world of literature and politics, Condorcet was not elected a member of the States-General. But in 1791 he was a Deputy for Paris in the second Assembly. He voted against the execution of Louis XVI.

Condorcet was shortly after denounced as an Academician, a conspirator, and an enemy of the people. He was also accused of having attacked the “sublime efforts of the Committee of Public Safety,” and on October 3 the Convention ordered his arrest. For a time various friends concealed the illustrious refugee in their houses, but he was obliged to fly on April 6, 1794, from his last hiding-place. Hunger drove him into a baker’s shop to buy bread, where the whiteness of his hands, the fineness of his linen, and the fact that he was carrying a volume of Horace excited suspicion, and he was arrested. He committed suicide the same night in prison, swallowing poison contained in a ring. He was fifty years of age.

Condorcet was one of the most illustrious of Frenchmen, a true friend of liberty, a gentleman, an honest man, an elegant speaker, a brilliant writer, and a distinguished geometrician; he fell a victim, with many others almost equally distinguished, to the fury of those revolutionary demagogues who deprived France of most of the benefits she might have received from the Revolution of 1789.

CONDÉ, Prince Louis Joseph de Bourbon.

Born at Chantilly, 1736; died in Paris, 1818.

The son of that Duke de Bourbon (afterwards Prince de Condé) who succeeded the Regent Duke of Orleans as Prime Minister to Louis XV. This Prince died in 1739, when his only son was three years of age.

From his earliest childhood the young Prince de Condé was devoted to military studies. His guardian, the Count de Charolais, gave him an excellent general education. The Prince made a good classical scholar, and through life was fond of making quotations of Greek and Latin authors. He wrote an admirable history of the life of his ancestor, the great Condé.

During the Seven Years War he showed military genius and personal courage, and the victory of Johannesburg was principally due to his efforts (1762). He married at the age of seventeen Mlle. de Soubise, by whom he had a son and a daughter. She died when her husband was twenty-seven and she but twenty-five years old.

His disposition was noble and generous, and his political views distinctly liberal. He violently opposed the suggestions of Count St. Germain (the War Minister) that Russian discipline, including the caning of soldiers, should be introduced into the French army. Deserving officers, not of noble birth, found in him a friend and protector, as he used his influence to assist their promotion.

The Prince de Condé spent twenty years of his life in embellishing and improving his magnificent residence at Chantilly and the surrounding domain. Here he entertained the German Emperor, Joseph II., the Emperor Paul, when Grand Duke Cesarovitch, Gustavus, King of Sweden, the Duke of Brunswick, and many other potentates. He was a generous landlord and a public benefactor during the famine (1775); he bought up, at any and every price, all the grain he could possibly obtain, this corn being re-sold to the people at the usual price given in prosperous years for wheat.

Governor of Burgundy, that province owed to his efforts new roads and bridges, the encouragement of local art, and the foundation of useful and literary institutions. In 1787, as President of the Assembly of Notables, his discourses were in favour of order, economy and reform. Nevertheless, he was one of the first objects of attack by the Revolutionary party, and menaced on every side. Very shortly after the destruction of the Bastille he departed with his family from France. He went first to Austrian Flanders, and later to Turin, where he helped to combine the movement which brought about the counter revolution in Lyons and Southern France. He was chosen to command the body of French noblemen and gentlemen known as L’armée du Rhin or Des Emigrés.

A decree of the Assembly, 1791, deprived him of an annuity of £24,000 a year (granted by the State to the House of Condé in exchange for the territory of Clemontain). His property at Chantilly was confiscated, and, as he was without resources, he sold all his plate, diamonds and jewels.

When the civil war began he commanded a body of five thousand men. At the close of the first campaign he possessed no funds beyond a sum of money the Empress Catherine sent him as a present. Shortly after this he entered regularly into the service of the Emperor of Austria and received the pay of an ordinary general.

In the campaign of 1793 the Prince de Condé performed many brilliant feats of strategy, entering Alsace and occupying Berstein; the enemy drove his troops to Hagenau, and he marched on foot at the head of his regiment and retook Berstein by a bayonet charge. During the two following campaigns, Condé’s army was occupied only in guarding the Rhine. He suffered from the jealousy and malevolence of the Austrian commanders, and was supplied with bad provisions and spoilt flour; but the Prince ordered his table to be served with similar bread to that of the soldiers.

During the whole of this time (in 1795) Condé was negotiating with Pichegru, who commanded the Republican army on the opposite bank of the Rhine. They agreed that Condé should pass over the Rhine with his army and join Pichegru; they were to march jointly on Paris and restore the monarchy. The Prince, being subordinate to the Austrian Commander-in-Chief, Werhmer, considered it a point of honour to communicate this scheme to his superior officer. The Cabinet of Vienna refused to assent to Condé’s arrangement with the Republican general, unless Strasburg and the other Alsatian fortresses were occupied by the Imperial troops. The Prince refused his consent, and Pichegru, whose first condition had been “no Austrian soldier shall set his foot on French soil,” naturally refused to entertain the proposal for an instant. The project was, therefore, abandoned.

The forces of Condé, consisting of 10,000 men, were now an integral part of the regular Austrian army. The passage of Moreau over the Rhine caused the retreat of the Austrians, and although Condé and his troops invariably distinguished themselves, and at the battle of Biberach saved the Austrian army from a crushing defeat, the advance of Moreau was never seriously checked.

After the peace of Campo-Formio in the following year, Condé and his remaining followers took service under Paul I. of Russia. In 1799 Paul abandoned the Austrian alliance, and made peace with France; the army of the Emigrés then passed over to the English. Condé fought in Bavaria and defended the passage of the Inn. But after the battle of Hohenlinden the whole of his remaining forces were disbanded. In 1801 the Prince joined his son, the Duke de Bourbon, in England, the British Government providing them with a small allowance.

Condé settled in the ancient abbey of Malmesbury, where he found a devoted companion in his second wife, the Dowager Princess of Monaco. In 1804 the news reached him of the assassination of his grandson, the Duke d’Enghien, the last male heir of his race. In 1813 he lost his wife, at the very moment when his long and cruel exile was about to terminate.

He landed at Calais with Louis XVIII. in May 1814. Notwithstanding his great age (he was nearly eighty) he was the only member of the royal family who did not instantly attempt flight from Paris on the return of Napoleon from Elba.

“We should fight,” he cried, as the carriage in which he had been forcibly seated was bearing him away towards the frontier.

On his return after Waterloo he spent the remaining five years of his life at the Palais Bourbon (now the Chamber of the French Legislature) and at a small château at Chantilly, the last relic of its ancient splendour.

He died in Paris, aged eighty two, and was, by order of Louis XVIII., buried at St. Denis, in the vault of the Kings of France.

DANTON, George Jacques.

Born October 28, 1759; executed April 6, 1794.

At the time of the outbreak of the Revolution he was a needy lawyer. The immorality of his private life caused him to be greatly discredited by members of his profession, and he seldom obtained employment. He therefore hailed with joy the social changes, and threw himself with all the energy of his temperament into the Revolutionary movement. He made the acquaintance of Mirabeau, who found him a man whose actions and unscrupulousness were likely to be of great use to his political plans. Mignet, in his “History of the Revolution,” says:

Danton was a revolutionary giant. He saw nothing condemnable in any action which could serve his purpose. His theory was that with audacity one could achieve anything and everything.

Danton, who had been surnamed “the Mirabeau of the populace,” possessed the following characteristics in common with the great Tribune. Strongly marked features, a loud voice, an imperious mien, a bold eloquence, and a dominating presence. Their vices were similar, with this difference, that in all his debaucheries Mirabeau remained a patrician, and Danton never ceased to be a democrat.

President of the Cordeliers, Danton took for his satellites Marât and Camille Desmoulins. Danton became the orator of the people, and was ready to speak anywhere and everywhere either in a public hall or in the street, from an open window or in the Tribune of the Assembly.

The political rôle and public life of Danton did not attain real importance until the return of the Royal Family from Varennes. For a time he sold himself to the Court party, and as he was under an order of arrest for debts he gladly accepted the terms offered him by the anti-revolutionists. He received altogether £12,000 sterling, but as soon as supplies ceased he rejoined his former friends and was a more implacable revolutionist than before. When the “Federals” arrived from Marseilles, Pétion, the Mayor of Paris, placed them under Danton’s orders. He plied them with wine and led them himself, with that personal courage which never deserted him, to the attack on the Tuileries on August 10. During the whole of that eventful day Marât and Robespierre were hiding in a cellar.

After August 10, Danton was appointed, as a reward for his services, Minister of Justice. He began his ministry by ordering domiciliary visits in every part of Paris, by arresting the clergy and all suspected Royalists. He then assembled the General Committee of National Defence, and in a speech to that body on September 1, 1792, said: “My advice is that it is necessary to terrify all Royalists.”

The following day he appeared in the Legislative Assembly at the head of the authorities, and in a voice of thunder shouted to the trembling Deputies:

It is at this moment, gentlemen, you can decree that Paris is worthy of France. The cannon you are about to hear sound, is not the cannon of alarm, it is the first step taken to destroy our enemies. What is required to vanquish them? Audacity! still more audacity!! and ever increasing audacity!!!

A few hours afterwards the massacres of September commenced. They lasted four days, and to the assassinations of defenceless prisoners in Paris succeeded those of the equally defenceless prisoners at Orleans on the ninth of the same month; a day or two later, a similar scene of slaughter occurred at Versailles.

Elected one of the Paris Deputies to the Convention, Danton resigned his Ministerial post. He was a violent promoter of the trial of Louis XVI., and to a friend who suggested the Convention was not by right of law a court of justice, he replied: “You are right; and we will not judge him, we shall kill him.”

Bertrand de Molleville, ex-Minister of Marine, who had taken refuge in London, informed Danton he possessed a letter written by him (Danton) at the time he was in the pay of the Royalists. This he threatened to publish if Danton used his influence to condemn Louis XVI. Danton left Paris in consequence and did not return until the last day of the King’s trial. Immediately after the King’s execution, Danton and Lacroix repaired to Belgium, which Dumouriez had just invaded. They received 4,000,000 of francs (£600,000) to be used in promoting a Revolution in Flanders and the Netherlands.

They were accused of having appropriated the greater part of this enormous sum, and there is every reason to believe this accusation was a just one. In order to avert suspicion, Danton replaced himself at the head of the most extreme revolutionists. He proposed and carried a motion for the levying of an army of 300,000 men, and also suggested the devastation of France in case of invasion. On March 10 he decreed the establishment of the famous Revolutionary Tribunal, which a year later sent him to the scaffold.

The Committee of Public Safety was formed and became the real governing power of France. Danton was its foremost member, and now reached the apogee of his career. But he was menaced on two sides; by the party of the Girondins, who clamoured for the punishment of those who had by murder soiled the cause of Liberty, and by the “Purists” of the Montagne, who accused him of the embezzlement of funds in Belgium. As, according to his own cynical remark, “authority in a Revolution should always belong to rogues,” he joined Robespierre and Pache and brought about the trial and execution of the Girondins. Soon afterwards the influence of Danton began to wane, he was now reproached with too much moderation, and of being desirous to coerce the actions of the Revolutionary Tribunal. He had denounced the Saturnalia of the Feast of Reason.

Robespierre decided Danton should fall, and many of his (Danton’s) friends advised him to fly while there was yet time. He replied: “They would not dare!” and remained, lulled by this false security, until he was arrested in his own house on the night of March 30, 1794. Many members of the Convention tried to save him, and an effort was made to give him an opportunity of appearing before the Assembly and publicly attesting his patriotism; but this was vetoed by Robespierre, who with feigned indignation said: “We shall see whether the Convention will be able to break a rotten idol, or will allow that idol to destroy in its fall not only the Convention but the people of France.”

St. Just ascended the Tribune, and poured forth a violent impeachment of his former ally, whom he accused of every possible form of treachery to the Republic. “Terror was voted as the order of the day,” and Danton’s fate was sealed.

After he and his companions had undergone a mock trial, devoid of every semblance of justice, they were sentenced to death. Danton’s answer to the sentence was: “We are being immolated by a few cowardly brigands; but they will not long enjoy the fruits of their victory. Robespierre, that infamous coward, will soon follow me.”

Danton was executed on April 5 with Camille Desmoulins, Lacroix, Fabre d’Eglantine, Hermit, Le Sechelle, Philippeaux, Declannoy de Angers, Chalet and Bazire (all of these men were Deputies of the Convention) the famous Abbé d’Espagne, General Westerman, a Spaniard, a Dane, and two Austrians. His last words were: Montrez ma tête au Peuple, elle en vaut la peine.

He was thirty-five years of age when he perished. Robespierre enjoyed the sight of the execution of his rival from a neighbouring window, and after the fall of the knife retired into the Tuileries gardens to take his daily walk, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.

DAVID, Jacques Louis.

Born in Paris, 1748; died in Brussels, 1824.

Left an orphan at an early age, his grandfather, an architect, adopted him. When a boy at school he met with an accident which deformed his face for life. A stone struck him in the mouth, broke several teeth, and a growth eventually formed upon his upper lip which gave him a savage and ferocious expression. In early childhood he showed promise of artistic talent. His uncle intended the boy to follow his profession of an architect, but when the youth begged to be allowed to study painting he yielded to his entreaties.

The famous painter, Boucher, then a very old man, saw some sketches made by young David, and offered to take him into his studio as a pupil. After Boucher, the painter Vien became David’s master, and the student competed for the “Grand Prix de Rome”; he was unsuccessful four times, but finally carrying off the prize started for Italy in 1776. He devoted himself to the study of the antique, and adopted that severe classical style by which his work is distinguished. While at Rome he painted “The Pests of Saint Roch” for the Lazaretto at Marseilles. In 1780 he returned to Paris and produced “Belisarius” and “The Death of Hector,” after which he was elected to the Academy, given an appointment in the Louvre, and opened a school for young painters.

He married Mademoiselle Pecconi, a beautiful Italian girl, on the occasion of his second visit to Rome in 1784. He exhibited the “Horaces” in Paris, and was proclaimed “The Regenerator of Art.” Louis XVI. patronised the painter, and commissioned him to paint “Brutus,” which picture was finished early in 1789.

The Revolution changed David’s life and ideas; in 1790 the National Assembly commissioned him to paint “The Oath in the Tennis Court.” In 1792 the artist was elected Deputy for Paris in the Convention. This position seemed to affect his intellect and excite his brain.

The painter of “Brutus” considered himself another Brutus, and imagined Louis XVI. deserved death because, being a king he must necessarily be a tyrant.

During the early months of the Republic David organised those fêtes which were intended to imitate the ancient popular feasts of Greece and Rome.

He painted, amongst other numerous pictures, “The Assassination of Michel le Pelletier” and that of “Marat by Charlotte Corday.” These pictures were exhibited to the public in the courtyard of the Louvre.

He became the most violent among the violent Terrorists. His speeches in the Convention invariably contained cries for more bloodshed. He was the intimate friend and ally of Robespierre. After the fall of the latter, David was twice arrested, and remained first four, and then three, months in prison.

Bonaparte, after his first campaign in Italy, and when the peace of Campo-Formio was concluded, sent for the painter, with whom he had an interview. The General desiring he should paint his portrait David said, “I will paint you sword in hand in the midst of a battle.” Bonaparte replied, “Battles are not now gained with swords. Paint me seated on a fiery charger.” This idea was realised in that well-known picture, “The Return from Marengo.” Napoleon, after assuming the imperial title, appointed David his painter-in-ordinary, and commissioned him to paint four immense pictures to cover the walls of the throne room in the Tuileries. “The Coronation” and “The Distribution of Eagles in the Champ de Maers” were the only two executed. “The Coronation” occupied the artist during three years of incessant work. Until 1814 David remained in Paris, an imperial favourite and a fashionable portrait-painter, enjoying the reputation of being the greatest artist of his day. On the return of the Bourbons, of whom he had been in a certain sense a personal enemy, he was not allowed to exhibit his great picture, “The Thermophyles,” in public.

After the Second Restoration he was banished from France, to which country he never returned. Before his departure he cut his two great works, “The Coronation” and “The Distribution of the Eagles,” to pieces with his own hands. By the order of Louis XVIII. the fragments were re-united, and the pictures may now be seen in the museum at Versailles.

During his twenty years exile David continued to paint with industry and vigour, dying at Brussels in 1824.

D’ESTAING, General.

The General mentioned by Yorke was a member of a very ancient family, whose archives date back to the tenth century. A Count D’Estaing saved the life of Philippe Augustus in battle. As a reward the D’Estaing family were granted the privilege by that King of quartering the Royal arms of France upon their escutcheon. An Admiral D’Estaing, uncle of General D’Estaing, was one of the most distinguished French naval officers of the eighteenth century; his opinions were liberal, and he at first favoured the Revolutionary changes. He was, nevertheless, a devoted friend of Marie Antoinette, and when she was tried in October 1793, made an effort to assist in her defence. He fell in consequence under the suspicion of the Committee of Public Safety, and was condemned and executed. When sentence of death was pronounced upon him, he exclaimed: “You had better send my head to the English; they will pay you highly for it.”

FITZ JAMES, Edouard, Duke De.

Born at Versailles, 1776; died in Paris, 1838.

His family emigrated in the early days of the Revolution, and settled in Italy.

After the formation of Condé’s army, young Fitz James joined its ranks, became aide-de-camp to Marshal Castries, showing on many occasions great personal bravery. After the forcible dispersion of the French Emigré Regiment, Fitz James visited England and Scotland, and married in London a Mdlle. Latouche.

During the Consulate he applied for, and received, permission to reside in France.

He refused to accept any place or dignity at the hands of Napoleon, and took no part in public affairs until December 1813 (when the fall of the Empire appeared imminent). He then entered the National Guard as a non-commissioned officer, with the object of obtaining a secret influence over the men. In this he was successful, for his arguments and actions practically caused the refusal on the part of the National Guard to attack the Allied Army then marching upon Paris.

After the capitulation of that city, Fitz James organised and headed a vast demonstration in favour of the restoration of the Bourbons. Thousands of young men rushed through the streets of Paris, waving white flags and shouting Vive le Roi! This popular manifestation greatly affected the Emperor Alexander, and caused his final decision in favour of the Restoration of the ancient monarchy.

When Louis XVIII. assumed the sovereignty of France, Fitz James was created a Peer, Colonel of the National Cavalry, and Chamberlain to Count d’Artois. During the second Restoration Fitz James was one of the principal instigators of the severe reprisals on the Royalist side, known as the “White Terror.” Marshal Ney’s execution was caused by the efforts of Fitz James.

He unsuccessfully endeavoured to bring about the condemnation to death of General Bertrand, although the latter was his own brother-in-law.

A wild fanaticism seemed at this period to have affected his mind. He opposed every constitutional concession on the part of the Government, and showed himself so hostile to Ministerial and even Royalist projects, that he was finally forbidden to appear at Court.

After the Revolution of 1830, Fitz James, as a Peer of France, took the oath of allegiance to Louis Philippe. But in secret he was still loyal to the exiled King.

At the time of the rising in La Vendée excited by the Duchess de Berry, Fitz James was arrested, but released owing to lack of evidence against him.

He became Deputy for Toulouse in 1834, and until his death four years later was a prominent member of the Right in the French Parliament, and took a considerable part in the debates.

FOUCHÉ, Duke of Otranto, Joseph.

Born at Nantes, 1763; died at Trieste, 1820.

He was intended by his father, a sea captain, for the merchant service, but owing to his delicate health this project was abandoned. He was sent to the Oratorian College in Nantes, and later to an establishment of the same Order in Paris. He received the tonsure and became an abbé; at the time of the Revolution he was a professor in the Nantes University. He quitted the cassock, married, and proceeded to Paris.

In 1792 he was elected member of the Convention, and became intimate with Robespierre. The King’s trial gave him his first opportunity of publicly expressing his extreme views. He said in a speech from the Tribune: “I demand the execution of the tyrant, for it would almost appear as if we regretted our courage in abolishing Royalty, were we to tremble before its wretched shadow.”

In March 1793, Fouché was despatched to his native town (Nantes), armed with full powers to crush a rebellion against the Republic in the West of France. He opened the campaign by a violent attack on every form of Christianity, confiscated all ecclesiastical buildings, arrested and imprisoned the priests, commanded the destruction of all religious emblems, and ordered this inscription to be placed on the gates of the cemeteries: “Death is an Eternal Sleep.”

He affected a disdain for wealth, writing to the Assembly, “Let us abolish gold and silver and fling away all such idols of Monarchy!”

These deeds and sentiments caused his rapid promotion, and he was sent to Lyons in company with Herbois, with orders to chastise with fire and sword that recalcitrant city. The two commissioners inaugurated their mission by celebrating a “Feast of Reason,” which, like that of Paris, was a licentious and impious orgie. One of its principal features was a procession headed by an ass, upon whose head was fixed a mitre, while to his tail were fastened the Books of the Old and New Testaments. An altar was erected, at which a mock Mass was celebrated, and the ass given food and drink from consecrated vessels. A bonfire fed with religious emblems and sacred books was extinguished by a violent storm of rain and wind, which finally broke up the “Feast.” Upon the next day the massacres of Lyons began. The tribunal decided that the guillotine was too slow a form of execution. They therefore decreed the condemned should be mowed down in batches by cannon shot. As many as fifty-nine persons were on one occasion blown to pieces at the same instant. During their four months’ reign in Lyons, over 1700 persons are known to have been destroyed by order of the commissioners.

On the retaking of Toulouse by the Republican forces Fouché wrote to Callot, who was charged with the administration of “justice” to the rebels: “Annihilate all traitors. Take Nature’s example, strike and scorch as one does with lightning and thunderbolts, so that the very ashes of the enemies of the Republic may disappear from the soil of Liberty. Tears of joy flow from my eyes and inundate my soul. We celebrate your victory to-day by sending 213 rebels to be destroyed by the thunder of our guns!”

During his residence at Lyons, Fouché was denounced by Hébert at the Jacobin Club; it was with satisfaction, therefore, that he saw the former fall with Danton. When, in April 1794, Fouché returned to Paris, after an absence of eight months, he found Robespierre at the zenith of his power. When rendering an account of his services, Fouché ended his speech with these words: “Criminal blood fertilises the soil of Liberty and establishes justice upon secure and immovable foundations.” He was almost immediately afterwards selected as President by the Jacobin Club.

On the occasion of the celebrated Fête de l’Etre Suprême, Fouché had the imprudence publicly to mock Robespierre’s devotion to the new Deity, saying Tu nous embêtes avec ton être suprême. Robespierre impeached him before the Jacobin Society, and caused Fouché’s expulsion from the Club of which he was President, but the 10th Thermidor was not far off; and the execution of Robespierre saved the life of Fouché.

For a time the latter retired into private life. Two years later he ostensibly joined the party of Baboeuf, the Socialist, but when he had thoroughly mastered the details of Baboeuf’s plot he revealed the whole of the affair to the Directorate.

After the execution of Baboeuf, Fouché obtained, as the price of his services, an army contractorship, and later was created ambassador to the Cisalpine Republic. After remaining some time in this capacity at Milan he returned to Paris in January 1799. In July of the same year he was nominated Minister of Police. Notwithstanding the opposition of Siezès, Fouché retained this appointment until the establishment of the Consular Government. Napoleon, who thoroughly appreciated the abilities and understood the astuteness of Fouché’s character, made use of him as his most confidential Minister until 1810.

The remarkable system of secret police which distinguished the Consular and Imperial Governments was originated and carried out by Fouché. It was he who discovered the plot of Georges; who prevented the assassination of the First Consul by an infernal machine in 1810; and upon his head, more than upon his master’s, that the guilt of the murderous execution of the Duke d’Enghien rests.

Fouché was too wise and far-seeing to approve of the divorce and re-marriage of Napoleon, and he particularly opposed the Austrian Alliance; for this the Emperor never forgave him, and when he discovered that his union with Marie Louise did not induce the British Government to recognise his sovereignty, he dismissed Fouché, and in 1810 gave the portfolio of Police to Savary. Fouché was not, at first, openly disgraced, but appointed Governor of Rome. Before his intended departure, however, Napoleon ordered him to give up all political documents in his possession. Fouché sent some insignificant papers, declaring he had destroyed the remainder. Napoleon was furious, and the ex-Minister was obliged to fly from France.

A compromise was arranged, and two years later Fouché returned. In 1813 he was appointed Governor of Illyria. In the following April, after the first abdication of the Emperor, he returned to Paris, headed the deputation which received the Comte d’Artois, and shortly afterwards Louis XVIII. took him into his confidence and consulted him on many points. He did not, as he desired, become Police Minister.

Upon the return of Napoleon and the flight of the Royal Family, Fouché accepted his old post, but during the whole of the hundred days he secretly intrigued with the exiled Princes.

After the Second Restoration, he was immediately summoned to the Tuileries and re-appointed Police Minister, but he only retained office three months; he had too many enemies in the Royal entourage, and found foes among Liberals and reactionaries alike. He was made Ambassador to the Court of Saxony, but the law of 1815—which banished all regicides—deprived him of this position and drove him again into exile. He became a naturalised Austrian, and died four years later at Trieste, on Christmas Day, 1820. He was but fifty-seven years old, but a life of excitement and mental overwork had given him the appearance of extreme old age. He left a fortune of £560,000, amassed, it is supposed, by subtle and dishonest means during his occupation of the Ministry of Police.

FOUQUIER-TINVILLE, Quentin Antoine.

Born at Hérouet in 1747; guillotined in Paris May 8, 1795.

He was a son of a wealthy farmer, and after studying law in Paris bought a charge of procureur at the Châtelet. Although active and intelligent, his well-known immorality prevented his achieving success in his profession, and he was forced to sell his charge to avoid bankruptcy.

Reduced to any and every expedient to earn a livelihood, he addressed some flattering verses to Louis XVI., which, by the efforts of the Abbé Delille, obtained for their author an appointment in the bureau of police.

On the outbreak of the Revolution, Fouquier-Tinville, became an extremist, and was made commissionary over the district in Paris where he resided.

He passed the evening of August 9 in the Commune, pronouncing the most sanguinary discourses, and took a prominent part in the attack upon the Tuileries the following day.

Robespierre and Danton appointed him a member of the jury of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

His legal knowledge, his calm determined manner, and his gift of eloquence led very shortly afterwards to his nomination to the post of “Public Accuser.” From this moment he considered that he was “Minister of Political Justice,” the Committee of Public Safety being his sovereign, and the jury and executioners his servants. He interrogated the accused as a judicial formality, but he made no inquiry as to the innocence or guilt of the prisoner. Every evening at ten o’clock he repaired to the Committee of Public Safety, to give an account of his doings during the day. His lodgings were in the Palace of Justice, and he never left them, except to go in the daytime to the Tribunal, and in the evening to the Committee.

It was before him that Marat appeared on April 24, 1793, accused by the National Assembly. Fouquier facilitated his acquittal; this was the only instance in which he ever showed mercy. Before him passed in vast procession during the next fifteen months the victims of the Revolution.

He accused and delivered to death Danton, Hébert and the whole Commune of Paris, as mercilessly as he prosecuted the last Queen of France. When Robespierre and his companions were dragged before the Tribunal, Fouquier said to the jury, who were in doubt as to the course they should pursue: “We are dispensers of justice, and justice must be executed upon all who come before us.”

After the 12th Thermidor, Barrère was desirous of retaining Fouquier-Tinville in his sanguinary functions. But a universal outcry prevented this. Fréron, who had himself an odious reputation for cruelty, denounced Fouquier, saying: “It is time Fouquier-Tinville were sent to hell to expiate his bloody deeds.”

The Assembly decreed his trial, and five days later he appeared at the bar of the Convention. He attempted to throw all the blame for his acts upon Robespierre, but he was arrested and imprisoned. His trial lasted forty-one days, over two hundred witnesses, who gave lengthy evidence, being interrogated

He was found guilty of

having caused the death of innumerable innocent persons of both sexes under pretence of being conspirators; of having on one occasion sent during the space of three hours eighty persons to the scaffold without respecting legal formalities; of having crowded upon carts (prepared in readiness before their trial), victims who had not had any semblance of justice and whose condemnations were never signed; of having ordered the execution of a number of pregnant women.

Fouquier’s defence was as follows:

The Convention having declared Terror to be the Order of the day, in the same breath ordered the extermination of all rebels. The prisoners were merely sent before me in order that I might carry out certain legal formalities. It was therefore your orders, citizen representatives, that I obeyed. Which of you ever gave me a word of blame? Blood was the perpetual cry upon the lips of your orators. If I am guilty, then you are all guilty. I was but the weapon of the Convention; do you punish the executioner’s axe?

He was condemned to death with fifteen other persons, and conducted the following day to the scaffold. The populace followed the cart which bore him to punishment with yells of execration and insult. He spoke to them cynically, and to a man who cried out, Tu n’as plus la parole aujourd’hui—the taunt he used to those of his victims who wished to defend themselves before the Tribunal—Fouquier said:

“And thou, wretched creature, go and claim thy three ounces of bread at the Section; I at least die with a full stomach and have never known want.”

GANGENELLI, POPE CLEMENT XIV., Jean Vincent Antoine.

Born, October 1705; died, September 22, 1774.

He was the son of a doctor, and became a Franciscan monk at the age of nineteen. An ardent student of philosophy and theology, he was sent to the College of St. Bonaventura at Rome to teach theology, and made a doctor of divinity. Later he became Professor of Philosophy at Ascoli. He was also a noted orator, and his reputation as a preacher was high at Bologna, Milan, Ferrara, Venice, and Florence.

In 1741 he was recalled to Rome.

He led as retired a life as practicable in Rome, though he was fond of exercise and riding on horseback. He declared it to be his most earnest wish to return to the monastery of S. Francis at Assisi, and twice refused to accept the position of General of his Order. Nevertheless his great reputation as a theologian caused his elevation to the Cardinalate in 1759 and ten years later to the Papacy. His election surprised every one, himself most of all, for Cardinal Ganganelli was not even a Bishop when nominated to the headship of the Church.

His five years’ reign was one of the most important during the history of the Papacy. At that time the Order of Jesus was assailed on all sides, and every reigning Prince of Europe desired its dissolution. Still the Society was so powerful, so numerous, and had been so staunch a supporter of the Holy See that its position was considered impregnable. Clement XIV., after due consideration and much diplomatic action, decreed in 1773 the suppression of the congregation founded by S. Ignatius Loyola.

He died the following year, and the Jesuits have frequently been accused of having poisoned him. Historical researches have proved the injustice of this statement. He was in his seventieth year, and completely worn out by mental anxiety and overwork.

He was one of the very ablest as well as one of the worthiest successors of St. Peter.

GIRARDON, François.

François Girardon, a celebrated French sculptor, born in 1628, died in 1715 (the same year as his patron and employer, Louis XIV.).

From 1652 until his retirement in extreme old age he was employed, first in conjunction with Le Brun, and afterwards singly in directing the art work undertaken in Paris and at Versailles by Louis XIV.

His greatest achievements were considered to be the Bain d’Apollon, the “Rape of Proserpine” at Versailles and the equestrian statue of Louis XIV., which, before its destruction during the Revolution, occupied the centre of the Place Vendôme.

GRÉGOIRE, Henri.

Henri Grégoire, born near Lunéville, 1750, died in Paris, 1831, was Curé of Embermesnil. Elected to the States-General as representative of the clergy of Lorraine he proceeded to Versailles, 1789.

His liberal opinions were already well known by a book he had published, entitled “Regeneration of the Jews.” This book was in 1788 crowned by the Academy of Metz.

At Versailles the Abbé Grégoire soon became intimate with the leading members of the Tiers État. He exercised an ever-increasing influence over those among the clerical members of the Assembly who, like himself, were drawn from the ranks of the people.

At the very moment when the attack upon the Bastille was proceeding, and when a large proportion of the Deputies expressed apprehension, fear and alarm, Grégoire delivered a vehement oration in the Assembly in favour of the Revolution.

His influence in the Constitutional Assembly was invariably directed towards the advancement of those reforms by which he hoped the enfranchisement of the people might be accelerated. He took an active part in the abolition of the privileges possessed by the nobility and clergy, voted against the law of primogeniture, and demanded that Jews and negroes should have equal civil rights with Christians and white men.

When the Clerical Constitution was promulgated, Grégoire was the first priest who took the oath; and he accepted the Bishopric of Blois under the new régime. He represented the Department Loir et Cher (in which his episcopal see is situated) in the Convention, and on September 22 brought forward a motion in favour of the total abolition of Royalty and the proclamation of a Republic; his favourite axiom being, “The history of kings is the martyrology of the people.”

He was not present at the trial of Louis XVI., but wrote from Chambery to the Convention, declaring his opposition to a death sentence upon the King.

Grégoire became a prominent member of the Committee of Public Instruction, and by his efforts the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers was established.

He persuaded the Assembly to vote for the political and civil emancipation of the Hebrew race in France, and to pass a law abolishing negro slavery in the French colonies.

Grégoire continued to be an earnest and ardent Christian throughout the bitter religious persecutions of “the Terror,” and constantly proclaimed the sincerity of his religious beliefs. He had, indeed, been first attracted towards the Revolution because he imagined it would bring the adoption of Gospel principles into ordinary life. Bourdon de l’Oise accused him in the Jacobin Club of a design to Christianise the Revolution. Grégoire, in reply, declared this his earnest desire.

After the closing of the Convention, Grégoire joined the Council of the five hundred; in 1798 he became a Member of the Corps Législatif to the Presidency, of which he was soon after elected. He did not hold this post many weeks. His intense Republicanism was distasteful to the new Government, while his faith in Christianity aroused against him the animosity of the Radical party.

Grégoire became a senator in 1801, and retained his senatorship during Napoleon’s reign. He was opposed to the Imperial policy, protesting against the occupation of the Papal States and the divorce and re-marriage of Napoleon. After the Restoration Grégoire suffered considerable persecution. The Government deprived him of his pension as a Senator and of his membership in the Academy and Institute. He was reduced to such a depth of poverty as to be compelled to sell his library in order to support existence.

The next fifteen years of his life were spent in complete retirement; he carried out during this period a vast amount of literary work, and kept up a very extensive correspondence with eminent and learned men belonging to various European countries.

His situation was not improved by the Revolution of 1830. Louis Philippe obliged him to resign his commandership of the Legion of Honour, and when, a few months later, he was upon his death bed, the last sacraments were refused him, by the express order of the Archbishop of Paris. A courageous priest, the Abbé Gallon, did, however, administer the viaticum to the dying ex-bishop.

HAMILTON, William Richard.

William Richard Hamilton was born in London in 1777. In 1799 he accompanied Lord Elgin to Constantinople as private secretary, and was employed by that nobleman (British Ambassador to the Porte) to bring from Rome those artists who assisted him in his selection of certain statues and friezes, known as the Elgin Marbles, which are now in the British Museum. These marbles were placed on the Mentor, this ship being wrecked in September 1803, near the Island of Cos. Hamilton, who was on board, saved most of these priceless relics of antiquity by his presence of mind and intelligence.

He travelled shortly afterwards in Egypt, and published in 1809 a book, “Egyptian Monuments,” which was the first work of any importance on that subject since the days of Herodotus.

Mr. Hamilton was permanent Under Secretary at the English Foreign Office from 1809 to 1822; British Minister to the Court of Naples from 1822 to 1829, and President of the Geographical Society in London from 1837 to 1841.

HAUTERIVE, Count Blanc de Lanautte (Alexandre Maurice).

Born in 1754 at Aspres, in Dauphiné; died in Paris, 1830.

He was the thirteenth child of noble born but poor parents.

One of his uncles, a priest, adopted him, and he was intended for the Church, and educated at an Oratorian College. He refused to take orders, and became a lay professor in the University of Tours.

When the Duke de Choiseul visited this College, young Hauterive composed and delivered the discourse of welcome. The great nobleman was so well satisfied that he invited the youthful professor to Chanteloup. Here he found the Count de Choiseul de Gauffier, who was about to depart as Ambassador to Constantinople. Hauterive was offered and accepted the post of private secretary to this Minister, whom he accompanied to the Levant in 1784.

When he reached Constantinople he was appointed French secretary to the Hospodar of Moldavia, an important and highly paid situation.

Four years later he returned to Paris and married a rich and handsome widow. When the Revolution broke out he refused to emigrate, and remained in France a faithful servant to the house of Choiseul. He was in consequence totally ruined.

In 1792 he was given the French Consulship at New York, but he soon lost this appointment on account of his anti-Republican views. He was at last reduced to great poverty, and worked for a time as a day labourer. While in America he was joined by Talleyrand, who, however, soon returned to France. In 1798 Hauterive ventured back to Paris, and obtained a clerkship at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

After the Revolution of the 18th Brumaire (November 1799) Bonaparte, who required an intelligent individual capable of composing a general manifesto to the nations of Europe, was recommended by Talleyrand to employ Hauterive.

In six weeks the work appeared under the title of “The Condition of France at the End of the Year VIII.” Napoleon was greatly pleased, and Hauterive became one of his most trusted councillors. He was the principal factor in the diplomatic work of France during the Consulate. The most important of his achievements was the Concordat. His ancient theological studies among the Oratorians fitted him well for his task, and, as he had never taken holy orders, he was not, like Talleyrand, under the stigma of being a renegade priest. All through the Empire Hauterive continued to act as diplomatic adviser and agent for Napoleon all over Europe; he was also the guardian of the archives of France. In 1809 he received the title of Count of the Empire.

In 1814 he retired into private life. During “the Hundred Days” he refused to join the Ministry, and only solicited the restitution of his position as “Director and Guardian of the Archives of France.”

When the Bourbons returned, Hauterive was restored in this position by the Duke of Richelieu, the Prime Minister.

Hauterive exercised great influence during the reign of Louis XVIII., who had an immense respect for him. His literary work during the fifteen years of the Restoration was colossal. He died in 1830, aged seventy-six.

HOUDON, Jean Antoine.

Born at Versailles, 1740; died, July 16, 1828.

He gained at the age of nineteen the “Grand Prix” of Sculpture, and immediately departed for Rome. He was in Italy when Herculaneum and Pompeii were discovered. He remained for ten years in the Italian Peninsula, and executed the colossal statue of St. Bruno, founder of the Cistercian order, which still stands in the Portico of Santa Maria dei Angeli in Rome.

After his return to France he attained great celebrity, and “L’Ecorché,” the well-known study of a man’s body after the skin has been removed, showing all the sinews and muscles, was his work. This model is still used in all Art Academies.

The United States having decreed that a statue of Washington should be erected, Houdon was invited to America that he might undertake the commission. He accompanied Franklin to Philadelphia on the return of the latter from his embassy in France. Washington gave him many sittings, and the statue in question is now in the City Hall of Richmond, Virginia.

Many of his later works are well known, particularly the seated figure of Voltaire in the foyer of the Théâtre Français.

KOSCIUZKO (Thaddeus of Warsaw).

Born in Poland, February 12, 1746; died in Switzerland, in 1817.

A member of an ancient and noble family belonging to Lithuanian Poland. Being disappointed in love, he left his native country in 1775, for America, offering his services to Washington as a volunteer. During the War of Independence he became the intimate friend of Lafayette. He served with great distinction throughout the long campaign, and, on the conclusion of peace in 1783, was awarded a considerable share in those pecuniary gifts decreed by Congress for those who aided the cause of Freedom; he received the rank of Brigadier-General, and the order of Cincinnatus. He returned to Poland, and proceeded to take a considerable and active part in the politics of his native country.

When, after the first treaty of partition, the Russians occupied Poland under various pretexts, Kosciuzko acted successfully as General-in-Chief of the Polish Army and repulsed the enemy; but the pusillanimous King Stanislaus commanded his troops to lay down their arms. The Russians entered Warsaw in 1792, and from that moment the independence of Poland virtually terminated.

Kosciuzko headed an insurrection against the Russians in 1794, and after many successes was defeated, seriously wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Maciejovice, while Warsaw and Praga were brutally sacked by Suwaroff. The patriot Pole was thrown into a dungeon, where he remained until the death of Catherine II. in 1796.

Paul I. reversed his mother’s policy and released Kosciuzko, who proceeded first to France and then to England. In both countries he was received with the greatest honour and respect; the former granted him the title of Citoyen Français. Napoleon, as First Consul, favoured the Polish general, and employed him in hopes of obtaining redress for his country’s wrong; the latter was ready to serve and did serve either Napoleon or Alexander I., but his hopes were always frustrated, and after the peace of 1815, when the Duchy of Warsaw was finally united to the Russian Empire, he retired into voluntary exile and died at Solenme in Switzerland in 1817. His body was eventually removed to Cracow in Austrian Poland, and his coffin placed in the cathedral of that city between those of John Sobieski and Joseph Poniotowski.

LAFAYETTE, Marie Paul Motier, Marquis de.

Born, 1757; died, May 19, 1834.

Lafayette’s father fell at Minden a few months before his son’s birth, his mother died when he was an infant. Lafayette inherited a large fortune, and at the age of seventeen married an heiress, Mdlle. de Novilles.

Refusing brilliant offers to Court appointments, and regardless of the entreaties of his young wife and other relatives, he insisted, when but twenty years of age, in fitting out a ship at his own expense and offered his sword to Washington in aid of American independence. He fought for two years in the War of Secession, was wounded at the battle of Brandy-Wine, and assisted in the retreat of Barren Hill, where he showed much courage and tactical skill.

On hearing there was a likelihood of war breaking out between England and France, he returned to Europe. He succeeded in persuading Louis XVI. to send out 4000 troops under the joint command of Count Rochambeau and himself to assist Washington, and this reinforcement was mainly instrumental in obtaining the American final successes.

Lafayette defended Virginia against Lord Cornwallis, and it was he who was the principal means of causing that commander to capitulate at York Town.

Lafayette returned to France in 1785 with a glorious reputation.

When the States-General assembled, Lafayette was member for Auvergne. He was elected Vice-President of the Assembly; was in Paris during the taking of the Bastille, and used every effort in his power to produce moderation in the Revolutionary party, of which he was a member. When the mob attacked Versailles his presence of mind and influence over the crowd were the means of saving the lives of the Queen and the whole Royal Family. During their terrible drive to Paris, Lafayette rode the whole way by the side of their carriage, and saved them from as much outrage as possible.

His popularity declined after the flight to Varennes, which he was suspected to have assisted. He was given the command of the army on the frontier, and succeeded in putting these irregular troops into some kind of order and discipline. He fell into disgrace and was deprived of his command, owing to the fact that he dared to report unfavourably of the Jacobin Club; forced to fly from France, arrested in Austria, and imprisoned for five years at Olmutz.

His wife and daughters having escaped after fifteen months’ captivity in the dungeons of Robespierre, joined him in his exile.

When at last released the Directorate forbade his return to France, which he did not re-enter until after the events of 18 Brumaire. Napoleon received him with favour, made him a Counsellor, and offered him a Senatorship. He voted against the Life Consulate and the Empire, and retired from public life until the end of the Napoleonic régime.

After Waterloo he took part in the Provisionary Government which held the reins of power until the Allies re-entered Paris. He met with little favour from the Government of the Restoration, his opinions were too liberal, and he was suspected of Republicanism.

In 1824 he returned to the United States, where he was received with unbounded enthusiasm. In recognition of his services that Government voted him in land and money a sum equivalent to £30,000.

He took a leading part in the Revolution of 1830, and greatly assisted Louis Philippe in obtaining the sovereignty of France; for in his opinion a constitutional monarchy was the best of republics.

He died in 1834 at the age of seventy-seven.

LARCHER, Pierre Henri.

Born, 1726; died, 1812.

One of the greatest Greek scholars of modern times. He translated Herodotus and innumerable Greek plays and poems. His writings are very numerous.

During the Revolution, although his religious convictions were well known, he escaped persecution and was allotted a pension of 3000 francs a year by the Directory. He was one of the founders of the Institut, and was nominated Professor of Greek when aged eighty-four. Notwithstanding his great age he carried out his duties in this capacity satisfactorily until his death three years later.

L’ASNE, Michel.

Born in Paris, 1594; died, 1667.

He was a celebrated draughtsman and engraver. His engravings after Rubens and Paul Veronese are now of great value. He also drew and engraved the portraits of great and distinguished men.

LAVOISIER, Antoine Laurent.

Born in Paris, 1743; guillotined, May 8, 1794.

The founder of modern chemistry. His father, a wealthy merchant, gave him an excellent education, but from his early youth he showed a precocious taste for science, and when only twenty-one he received the prize that the Academy of Science had offered “for discovering the best manner of lighting the streets of great towns.” In 1768 he was elected Academician. Turgot, in 1776, gave to this great chemist the direction of the manufacture of gunpowder and saltpetre. In the course of the next ten years Lavoisier made innumerable useful scientific discoveries.

Elected Deputy to the National Assembly in 1789; in 1791 he was named Commissionary of the Treasury, and propounded a scheme which, had it been carried out, would have been of immense economical service to France. He took an active part in the construction of the new system of weights and measures, and constructed in the gardens of the arsenal apparatus for experiments to aid this purpose.

In 1793 he measured the base of the new meridian; as Treasurer of the Academy he put in order the whole of the accounts of that body; and was able to discover funds which no one was aware the Academy possessed. In 1769 he had received a post as Fermier-Général from the Crown; and although such offices had long ceased to exist Robespierre caused his arrest in 1794, and, on the sole plea that it was the will of the people that no Fermier-Général’s life should be spared, the head of this great citizen fell upon the scaffold: four other former Fermier-Généraux, including his father-in-law, M. Poulze, perished the same day.

LE BRUN, Duc de Plaisance, Charles François.

Born, March 19, 1739; died, June 16, 1824.

In early life he showed an extraordinary disposition for learning languages, and he resolved to perfect this talent by travelling in foreign countries. He went to England, where he spent some time. He was delighted with the country, its inhabitants and its liberty, notwithstanding its aristocracy and monarchy.

After his return to France he became a lawyer. In 1768 he was appointed Inspector-General of the Crown Lands. He was Chief Secretary to Maupeau, the Chancellor, whose speeches he composed. In 1774, after the accession to the throne of Louis XVI., when Maupeau shared the fate of all the favourites of Louis XV., and had to deliver up his seals of office, le Brun lost his place too; he continued to practise his profession till the outbreak of the Revolution; he was Deputy to the States-General, and spoke in that assembly in favour of the reform of all abuses. In the Constitutional Assembly he opposed the issue of paper money and the creation of public lotteries.

He was the editor and reporter of the new financial laws. Le Brun was named President of the Directorate of Seine and Oise. In 1792, riots having occurred in his Department, he put them down by energetic measures.

After August 10 he threw up all his employments and retired into private life; he was shortly afterwards arrested and imprisoned at Versailles, but, under the surveillance of a gaoler, he was allowed to visit his friends and relatives. When Robespierre attained supreme power, le Brun’s captivity became severe; but for the events of the 9th Thermidor he would certainly have perished upon the scaffold.

Le Brun re-entered public life in 1795. In December 1799, Bonaparte appointed him Third Consul, with control of the Finance Department, and, after the establishment of the Empire, Arch-Treasurer of France.

Notwithstanding le Brun’s objection to hereditary titles, the Emperor insisted on creating him Duc de Plaisance.

To le Brun France owes the establishment of the Cour des Comptes.

In 1805 the Republic of Genoa was annexed to France. Napoleon despatched le Brun as Governor-General. He remained a year in Genoa, and showed both ability and moderation there. On his return to Paris he had the courage to remonstrate with the Emperor upon the proposed abolition of the “Tribunal,” and resigning his Arch-Treasurership, retired into private life.

In 1810 Napoleon, who respected his honesty and valued his intellectual powers, commanded le Brun to undertake the Governorship of Holland, the throne of that country being vacant owing to the abdication of Louis Bonaparte. Le Brun was now seventy-one years of age, yet he undertook this arduous task with the vigour of a young man, and in fifteen months completely reorganised the little kingdom. He was called “the good Stadtholder” by the Dutch.

In the disastrous Russian retreat the second son of le Brun perished, and after the battle of Leipzig the Cossacks invaded Holland. The Dutch, anxious to regain their independence, rose against the French. Their respect for the Viceroy was, however, so great that they conducted him to the frontier with an honourable escort and every possible courtesy.

During the events of the first two months of 1814, le Brun assisted the Imperial Government to the best of his power, and vigorously opposed the departure from Paris of the Empress Marie Louise.

He accepted, in the “Hundred Days,” the Grand Mastership of the University of Paris. After the Second Restoration his name was erased from the list of peers of France. It was restored in 1819, after which date, though eighty years of age, he made many important speeches in the House of Peers, and occupied himself with literary as well as political work until his death in 1824, aged eighty-five.

He was not only a great statesman, but a distinguished author, and besides writing many important works, translated Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered and the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer.

LE CLERC, Jean Baptiste.

Born, 1756; died, 1826.

A philosopher of the school of Jean Jacques Rousseau, he led until the outbreak of the Revolution, a secluded and studious life, devoted to literature, music and philosophy, in his native town of Angers.

Elected to the States-General as a representative of Anjou he embraced extreme revolutionary views, and, becoming later a member of the Assembly, invariably voted with the majority: as a member of the Convention he voted for the immediate death of the King. He was suspected of favouring the principles of the Girondins, and arrested and imprisoned, but released after the fall of Robespierre.

When on the Council of the Five Hundred he created the French Conservatoire of Music.

In 1801 Le Clerc was elected President of the Corps Législatif, but only retained this office for a year. He then retired to Chalonnes, refusing all honours from Napoleon.

The act of 1816 banished Le Clerc as a regicide.

Some years before his death he was permitted to return to France.

He wrote books upon history, philosophy and music, besides much poetry and many moral tales.

LEGENDRE, Jean Sebastian.

Born, 1755; died, 1794. Until 1789 he was a butcher in Paris.

He headed that procession which on July 13, 1789, carried round Paris busts of the Duke of Orleans and Necker. On the following day he conducted the mob to the Invalides, where they plundered the armoury, previous to attacking the Bastille. He soon became one of the principal revolutionary leaders, and was instrumental in forming the Club des Cordeliers. He it was who, when the crowd invaded the Tuileries upon June 20, 1792, forced the red cap upon Louis XVI. On August 10 he took a prominent part in the attack upon the Palace.

Member for Paris in the Convention, he pressed incessantly for the speedy trial and execution of the King. During that trial he was constantly appearing at the Convention and in the Jacobin Club, where mounting the tribune he demanded with violence that the body of Louis after his execution should be divided into eighty-four pieces, so that a portion of the tyrant’s remains might be despatched to every Department in the Republic. Legendre as Member of the Committee of Public Safety was, like Marat, one of the principal instigators of the proscription and execution of the Girondins. When Lanjuna made an attempt to speak in their defence, the ex-butcher threatened to hurl the orator from the tribune, unless he was instantly silent. In January 1794, Legendre was accused of Hébertisme, and threatened with expulsion from the Jacobin Club, but he escaped by proving his intimate friendship with Marat. Danton had been his friend and ally, and when the former was arrested Legendre at first spoke in his favour; finding that the Convention were against such a proceeding, he immediately declared that he answered for no one’s patriotism, and would never again defend an accused person. Legendre became the ally of Tallien and Fréron, and played an important part in the revolution of 9th Thermidor. As soon as the decree of arrest against Robespierre had been carried, Legendre sprang into the tribune and harangued with great heat and much vigour against the accused, after which he rushed to the Jacobin Club, forced every member to quit the building, locked the doors and brought the keys to the Convention. From that day Legendre never ceased clamouring for the immediate condemnation of the members of the very party of which he had so long been a leader, calling them “blood drinkers” and “terrorists.”

He was elected President of the Convention, and in that capacity marched at the head of the troops who dispersed and shot down the surging mobs who surrounded the walls of the Convention demanding bread.

This was his last exploit. His excesses and the violence of his temperament had undermined his constitution, and as Member of the Council of Ancients, he took little part in debate. A few weeks before his death he made a speech indicting the Government for their leniency towards the emigrés. He bequeathed his body to the School of Medicine, “so that even after his death he might still serve mankind.”

LIVINGSTONE, Robert.

Born, 1746; died, 1813. He was descended from an ancient Dutch family that settled on the banks of the Hudson, in the seventeenth century.

A lawyer, one of the committee of five who drew up the Act of Independence, in 1780 he became Foreign Secretary, and distinguished himself during the whole of the American War by his zeal and intelligence. On the conclusion of peace he was named Chancellor for the State of New York.

In 1801 President Jefferson despatched him to Paris as American Minister, when he, conjointly with Monroe, carried out successfully the negotiations for the cession of Louisiana to the United States.

Upon his return to his native country in 1805 he founded the New York Academy of Art, of which he was first President.

MARAT, Jean Paul.

Born at Boudry, 1744; assassinated in Paris, July, 3, 1793.

In early life he was a medical student, and the author of various treatises on physical science, and of a pamphlet in favour of the abolition of capital punishment.

He settled in Paris, and after attempting unsuccessfully many careers, such as savant, romantic writer and philosopher, was finally glad, after many efforts, to obtain the position of doctor to the body guard of the Comte D’Artois. He had lost this situation some time before the Revolution.

When that took place, Marat adopted the surname of “Friend of the People”: editing and publishing under that title a weekly newspaper.

Towards the close of 1789, in one of his articles he proposed the erection of 800 gibbets within the Tuileries Gardens, upon each of which was to be hanged one of those whom he called “traitors to the community”; of these the first was to be Mirabeau. In consequence of this audacious proposal the Constitutional Assembly ordered the arrest of the author, who took refuge first in the house of an actress at the Théâtre Français, and later in the presbytery of the curé of St. Louis at Versailles.

Marat was one of those seven members of the Commune who signed the order for the September massacres in the prisons of Paris.

At the King’s trial his (Marat’s) vote was couched in these terms: “No appeal to the people, only an accomplice of the tyrant would demand this.”

After the execution of Louis XVI. Marat was seized with a frenzied thirst for blood and massacre, “Let us slay,” he wrote in his journal, “270,000 partisans of the ancien régime, and reduce by executions the number of the Convention by a quarter.” He constantly complained that too few persons were executed, adding, “Only the dead do not return.”

The Girondins succeeded in bringing him before the Revolutionary Tribune, but by the efforts of Fouquier-Tinville he was triumphantly acquitted. He soon revenged himself upon them, for all the Girondin party were ordered into arrest upon the 2nd of June following.

A few escaped from Paris, amongst these was the young gallant and handsome Barbaroux, who took temporary refuge at Caen in Normandy, where he met a female descendant of the great Corneille, Charlotte Corday. Barbaroux’s recitals of the cruelties being exercised in Paris moved her profoundly; and when a few days later the news of his execution at Bordeaux reached Caen, she determined ta proceed to Paris and kill Danton or Marat. The sequel of her journey is too well known to need repetition here.

After the death of Marat his body lay in state; he was accorded a magnificent funeral; his bust placed in all French municipalities, and the honours of the Panthéon decreed to him.

When the reaction came his bust and statue were destroyed, his remains disinterred and burnt, and their ashes flung into the main sewer of the Rue Montmârtre.

MIRECOURT, Théroigne de.

Born at Mirecourt, Flanders, 1752; died in Paris, 1817.

The true name of this heroine of the French Revolution was Anne Josephe Terwagne of Marcourt, a small town in Luxemburg. The daughter of a rich farmer, Pierre Théroigne or Terwagne, by the kindness of a distant cousin, who was the Abbess, she was, although not of noble birth, educated in the Convent of Robermont. At the age of seventeen she left her home and followed her lover, a young nobleman, to Paris.

Here we find her settled, apparently independently, in 1789. A contemporary describes her as having “a waist you could span with two hands and the face of the Venus of Praxiteles.” She adopted violent revolutionary principles, and never missed attending a meeting of the Assembly.

She held a kind of salon in her apartment, where she received the Abbé Siezès and his brother Roussin, Camille Desmoulins, Péthion and other well-known revolutionists; adopted an extraordinary semi-masculine military costume, never appearing in public without a couple of pistols in her girdle, and a sword by her side. She attended all the principal revolutionary meetings, making violent and incendiary harangues on every possible occasion; was present at the taking of the Bastille, and rode in front of the mob which marched on Versailles. After the arrival of the Royal family in Paris her speeches in Flemish to the soldiers of the “Regiment de Flandre” assisted greatly in shaking their loyalty to the King.

In 1790 she returned to her native country, and remained some time at Liège. She was arrested there by the Austrians and carried off to the fortress of Kuffstein in the Tyrol, being accused of plotting against Marie Antoinette.

The Emperor Leopold II. had an interview with Théroigne at Vienna, and was so much smitten by her charms as not only to order her release, but to pay the expenses of her journey back to France. When she reached Paris she found herself the heroine of the hour. Soon after her return she commanded the 3rd Army Corps in the Faubourg on the occasion of the riots of June 20, 1792, and when the fight was over, the Federals, as a compliment to her bravery, decreed her a civic crown.

Suleon, the editor of a newspaper, having insulted Théroigne in a leading article, she, in company with a band of devoted adherents, laid in wait for him; and although he was at the time actually one of a patrol of the National Guard going their rounds, seized him by the coat collar and dragged him into the middle of the street, where she and her companions despatched him with their sabres.

She professed opinions similar to those of the Girondins, and when the fall of this party was imminent, declaimed loudly in their favour in public places. On one occasion when making a speech in the gardens of the Tuileries a number of women belonging to the so-called Société Fraternelle, stripped her naked and flogged her on the spot. This terrible punishment drove her mad, and she never recovered her reason. She died at the age of fifty-four in the public madhouse of La Salpêtrière, where, with one or two brief intervals, she had been confined for over twenty-four years.

METHERIE, Jean Claud de la.

Born near Macon, 1743; died in Paris, 1817.

A medical doctor and a great celebrity in his day as a chemist. He made many remarkable discoveries, particularly on the subject of oxygen and other gases. During the last thirty years of his life he devoted himself to the study of mineralogy and geology. He was appointed in 1812 Professor of Natural Science to the Collège de France, which post he retained until his death.

MERLIN, Antoine Christopher.

Born, 1762; died, 1833.

The eldest of four remarkable brothers, who all took a prominent part in the days of the Revolution and the Empire. Intended for the Church, he resolutely refused to take holy orders, and leaving his home in Lorraine at the age of twenty-one, arrived in Paris with only twenty-five louis in his pocket. He obtained a place as usher in a military school. The following year he was reconciled to his family, and his father being President and Procureur of Thionville, he agreed to act as his head clerk, intending eventually to succeed to his parent’s appointments.

When the Revolution commenced, Merlin joined the Jacobin party, returned to Paris, and in 1791 represented Moselle in the Legislative Assembly. According to his views, Royalty, clergy, and nobility were alike to be annihilated without delay. Living as he had done upon the road to Coblentz, he had been able to watch emigration upon the spot. He wearied the Assembly by his rages and recriminations, accumulating, as he said, proof upon proof of treason. His violent speeches, his fierce activity, and his wild passion made him a leader in the Jacobin Club. He demanded the deportation to the American penal colonies of all priests who refused the oath, the confiscation of the property of every émigré, and the establishment of a Committee of Public Safety.

After the abolition of the Monarchy these proposals were all adopted, and he made an audacious appeal to insurrection. “It is not with speeches,” he said, “but with cannon we should attack kings in their palaces, if we wish to ensure the liberty of the people.”

When the Tuileries was invaded upon June 20, the spectacle of the Royal family, abandoned by their friends and covered with insult and opprobrium, affected him to tears. “You weep,” said the Queen, “at the sight of a great King brought so low.” “Madame,” he answered, “my tears are not for a King but for a good father of a family and his estimable wife, who are suffering misfortune.”

He took an active part in the events of August 10. He persuaded the King and his family to leave the Château of the Tuileries, protecting them on their way to the Assembly. At the peril of his own life he saved later in the day those of the Duc de Choiseul and a number of the officers of the Swiss Guard.

After these events his conduct in the Legislature was more violent than before. His cry was: “War upon Kings, and peace for Nations.” At the moment of the invasion he encouraged the people to meet the enemy at the frontier. Commissioner of the Assembly, he rode over the five Departments surrounding Paris, obtaining money, horses and provisions everywhere he went; through his eloquence volunteers flocked to the Republican flag. He used his influence to prevent massacres of prisoners and suspected persons.

His joy at the proclamation of the Republic was intense. He took his seat in the Convention on the benches of the Montagne, and soon became as ferocious as the most ferocious of his companions. He declared it would be an honour to stab, with his own hand, any person who aspired to become a tyrant. He pressed forward the trials of the “infamous Louis” and the “infamous Antoinette.” He defended Robespierre against Louvet, and was a mortal enemy to Roland.

At the time of the trial of Louis XVI. Merlin was with the army at Mayence, he therefore did not vote for the King’s death; but he wrote to Paris on January 8, 1793: “We are surrounded by the dead and dying. In the name of Louis Capet our brothers are slain, and yet Louis Capet still lives!” Merlin, who was in supreme command, showed great ability and prodigies of courage during the siege of Mayence, which lasted from March to July of the same year, but famine and the superior number of the enemy prevailed, and the town capitulated on July 24, 1793.

On his return to Paris he was arrested as a traitor, and accused of selling Mayence to the enemy; but was triumphantly acquitted, a victim being found to assuage the vanity of the Republic in the person of General Alexandre de Beauharnais, the first husband of the Empress Josephine, who, being a noble, was a more agreeable offering to the guillotine than Merlin.

Merlin for a short time commanded part of the Republican army in La Vendée, but was recalled and returned to the Convention after an absence of nearly a year. During this time the political condition of France had undergone a complete change.

Merlin, who had now become more a soldier than a politician, joined no party, until a few days before the fall of Robespierre.

He made a speech in favour of Danton, and also brought forward a motion (which was carried) that all the riches and art treasures of conquered nations should be brought to Paris. It was upon this very motion Bonaparte acted when he first began to plunder the art collections of Italy. Merlin terminated his speech in these words: “People of foreign nations may complain; the remedy is, however, in their own hands,—let them destroy their monarchs.”

When the 9th Thermidor arrived, Merlin at once entered into direct antagonism with Robespierre, and as head of the Committee of War despatched various brigades of the Parisian Gendarmerie in detachments to various positions in the city. He descended into the street, haranguing the people, whom he called upon to rise in defence of the Convention. Henriot was arrested by Merlin’s soldiers, and the same men made the celebrated seizure at the Hôtel de Ville of Robespierre and the proscribed representatives. The real success of the 9th Thermidor rising is entirely due to Merlin. On August 17 he was elected President of the Convention, and he prosecuted the Jacobins without mercy, insisting upon the dissolution of that club (of which he had once been a leading member), “Let us close,” said he, “this cavern of brigands and murderers.” It was mainly through his influence that this society was dissolved.

In October 1794 he was again despatched to the army of the Rhine, and gave further proof of excellent generalship and military ability. The taking of Mannheim, the occupation of Luxemburg and another siege of Mayence marked this campaign.

After his return to Paris he assisted in quelling the insurrection of April 1, 1795, in the Faubourgs of Paris. He was even then only thirty years of age; and strange to say (although he was still a member of the Five Hundred), his political and military career may be then said to have closed. He saw with disgust the Republic alienating itself from the people and entirely depending upon the army. His dreams of universal freedom were over, and he did not seek re-election in 1798. He retired to Commençaux near Chauny, and devoted himself to the cultivation and improvement of an estate he had purchased during the Ventes des Biens Nationaux, and the only public function he exercised was the modest one of juge de paix.

As he was absent from Paris during the trial of Louis XVI. the law against regicides did not affect him. He was threatened with banishment on account of the message he sent the Convention on January 8, 1793, but he addressed a letter to the Ministers of Louis XVIII. which gained his pardon; it terminated in these words; “Messeigneurs, I was twenty-seven when I wrote from Mayence; I am now fifty, and my opinions have changed. I rely upon the clemency and justice of his Majesty Louis XVIII.”

MIRABEAU, Honoré Gabriel Richietti, Comte de.

Born, March 9, 1749; died, April 2, 1791.

At the age of three he suffered from the smallpox, which disfigured him for life and completely transformed his features. His father was a bigoted Jansenist, despotic, harsh, and cruel to his son, whose ardent nature and genius he did not in the least understand. He compelled Honoré, at the age of fifteen, to enter the army. After five years with his regiment, the young man had shown such aptitude for military study that he was about to receive promotion, when his father discovered that he had lost forty louis at play; was in debt, and engaged in an amorous intrigue with a young woman of the people. The old marquis, therefore, obtained a lettre de cachet, by which his son was imprisoned in the fort of the Ile de Rê. Here Mirabeau wrote his famous “Essay upon Despotism.” After his release he went with his regiment to Corsica, where he conducted himself with so much distinction as to be recommended for a captaincy of dragoons. But his arbitrary old father would not consent to this, as he now wished his son to leave the army and to embrace a rural life.

The result was a breach between father and son, though a reconciliation was effected a few months later. The maternal grandmother of young Mirabeau died in 1770, and left a vast fortune, which her daughter attempted to secure entirely for herself by obtaining a separation from her tyrannical husband. The result was a lawsuit lasting fifteen years, during the whole of which time Mirabeau was in the painful position of a son between two parents who furiously hated one another. In 1772 Mirabeau married, under pressure from his father, the only daughter of the Marquis de Mariguana, a plain girl of eighteen, reputed to be a great heiress. He never received any fortune with her, beyond an annuity of 3000 francs, for her father survived his son-in-law twelve years, dying in 1803.

The young couple lived for some time quietly together in the Château of Mirabeau, but Mirabeau’s fortune was not in any way equal to his rank, and he soon contracted heavy debts; this again excited his father’s anger, and he caused him to be arrested in 1774. Mirabeau was therefore reimprisoned, this time in the Château d’If, in the Gulf of Marseilles. From the Château d’If he was transported to Fort de Jaux in the Jura. The governor, who sympathised with him, accorded him semi-liberty, and he was able to make acquaintances in the town of Portarlier, where he was hospitably received by the leading families. One of these was that of the Marquis de Monnier, an old man of seventy, with a young, beautiful and intelligent wife. Mirabeau became her lover, and he and she eloped, first to Switzerland, and then to Holland, where they took up their abode in Amsterdam. The two fugitives were arrested, and Mirabeau was imprisoned in the Castle of Vincennes, where he remained for four years, his lengthy incarceration being the result of the efforts of his implacable father.

He wrote in prison his Lettres à Sophie, and executed much literary work. After personally conducting two law cases, one to cause the revocation of the act against him as ravisher of Mdme. Monnier, and the other to re-establish his conjugal rights over Mdme. Mirabeau—both of which he won, after showing prodigious eloquence, though he had never before spoken in public—he proceeded to London, where he printed “Considerations upon the Order of Cincinnatus.”

When the States-General assembled, Mirabeau endeavoured to obtain a membership; but his own order, the nobility, refused to accept him as a candidate. He therefore hired a shop in the town of Aix in Provence, and wrote over the door “Mirabeau, Cloth Merchant.” He was elected by the Tiers État Deputy for Aix.

After the opening of the States-General, Mirabeau soon became the most noted orator in the Assembly, and although on the side of liberty and freedom he showed much moderation and common sense. It is probable that had he lived France might have enjoyed the benefits of a constitutional monarchy, and all the horrors of the Revolution been averted; but his irregular life had destroyed even his robust constitution, and he expired on April 2, 1791, aged forty-two.

MOUGE, Comte de Peluse, Gaspard.

Born at Béaune in Burgundy, 1746; died in Paris, 1818.

Early in life he attained extraordinary knowledge in mathematics, chemistry and geometry. At the age of sixteen he made a plan of his native town with only the aid of geometrical instruments he had manufactured himself. This plan was exhibited in the Hôtel de Ville of Béaune, and was there seen by a distinguished engineering officer, who invited its creator to enter the famous College of Mézières. This offer was accepted; Mouge became Professor of Mathematics in this College, and was admitted to the Academy of Sciences in 1780. He retained this post until the Revolution closed both College and Academy.

In 1792 Mouge was appointed Minister of Marine; he held this position for a year—from August 11, 1792, to August 12, 1793.

At this moment the indignation of Europe against France had reached its height; the whole continent was prepared to attack her. The French Government, without money and without credit, required fourteen armies—and they obtained them. A million men were at their disposal, but these men were unarmed. Until this period all war material, iron, bronze, steel, even gunpowder had been supplied from abroad; but importation had now ceased. Mouge now showed the resources of his genius; he wrote, “All we require to aid the triumphs of our soldiers, all we formerly asked for from the stranger is concealed in our soil—it remains only for us to pluck it out.”

He placed himself at the head of a body of metallurgists, mechanics and chemists, and directed night and day the manufacture of arms and explosives. Bells were turned into cannon, old iron hardened into steel, and saltpetre extracted from the simplest materials. An immense quantity of powder filled the magazines, and cannons and other weapons were cast or forged in enormous quantities.

These great efforts ended, Mouge determined to open, at his own expense, a house where he might entertain and instruct a number of young men destined for the artillery of engineers. This establishment was the nucleus from which the École Polytechnique sprang.

In 1792, when Mouge was Minister of Marine, he received with kindness a young artillery officer who was out of employment. This same artillery officer, four years later, became the conqueror of Italy.

Mouge received an order to proceed to Italy to value, collect, and attempt to preserve, those works of Italian art it was proposed to remove to France. He received the warmest greeting from Bonaparte, who gave him every token of friendship.

Mouge was despatched by Bonaparte in 1797 to Rome—when the Pope was forced to fly and the Roman Republic established—with the order to bring statues and pictures from the Vatican to Paris.

He accompanied Napoleon to Egypt, together with many other men of science, to bring back the spoils of that country, in the same way they had removed those of ancient Rome. While the French occupation of Egypt continued, Mouge made many discoveries there, and explored the Temples of the Nile, travelling as far as the Second Cataract. He followed Bonaparte to Syria, and was his constant companion during that disastrous expedition. When Napoleon quitted Egypt surreptitiously for France, August 22, 1799, Mouge was one of the passengers on board the small frigate which carried General Bonaparte and his destiny.

On his return to France, Mouge continued his scientific work. After the establishment of the Empire, he was appointed Governor and Director of the École Polytechnique, Senator, and given the title of Comte de Peluse. He retained these honours until the second Restoration, when Louis XVIII. erased his name from the list of the Institute, besides depriving him of the Directorship of the Polytechnique, which he (Mouge) had founded.

Mouge felt this deprivation deeply, and the last three years of his life were passed in melancholy depression and regret. He died in 1818, at the age of seventy-two.

MOITTE, Pierre-Etienne.

Born, 1722; died, 1780.

A celebrated French engraver. His works are now of high commercial value.

NECKER, Suzanne Curchod.

Born at Crassier in the Canton of Vaud, 1739; died at Lauzanne, 1794.

Her father was a Protestant pastor, who educated her. At the age of twenty she had a perfect and intimate knowledge of modern and classical literature. She was tall and handsome, her manners amiable and dignified. Her parents were poor; she was therefore obliged to give private lessons in families. Gibbon, the historian, knew and admired, and even desired to marry her. His father, however, absolutely refused his consent on account of Mdlle. Curchod’s want of means.

Having lost both her parents she went to Paris as the companion of a Mdme. de Verenenon, a rich widow. Mdme. Verenenon possessed a suitor, one Monsieur Necker, a wealthy banker of about thirty-two years of age.

When M. Necker met the young companion he transferred his affections to her, and they were married in 1764. Their union was a very happy one.

Mdme. Necker’s salon was one of the most agreeable and cultured in Paris, her habitués being Buffon, Thomas, St. Lambert, Suard, Marmontel, Saurin, Duclosé, Diderot, D’Alembert, De la Harpe, Guibert, Abbé Delille, Abbé Arnaud, Abbé Morellet, Comte de Creutz, Duc d’Azeu, Marquis de Caraccioli. Her greatest friends were Buffon and Thomas.

During her husband’s first Ministry, Mdme. Necker occupied herself particularly with the Paris Hospitals, then in a deplorable condition, and at the moment when the Revolution drove her from France, she was busy arranging a model hospital she had founded at her own expense.

She died, aged fifty-four, at Lausanne.

She had an only daughter, the celebrated Madame de Staël, born in 1766. The relations of mother and child were, unfortunately, never happy, as the amiable, pious, but rigid Calvinist mother could in no way understand the character or disposition of her brilliant daughter. M. Necker, on the contrary, made his child his friend and companion from her early girlhood, and in consequence a violent jealousy existed between the mother and daughter, which as years went on embittered both their lives, and continued until Mdme. Necker’s death. M. Necker died ten years later, in 1804.

NEUFCHÂTEAU, Nicholas François, Comte de.

Born, 1750; died, 1828.

Son of a schoolmaster in Lorraine, Nicholas François was educated at a Jesuit College, where he was known as “the Infant Prodigy.” At the age of fourteen he published a volume of poems and fables, imitations of Ovid, Horace, and Virgil; and was crowned by the Academy of Dijon. Voltaire, then seventy-two years of age, invited the youthful genius to Ferney, and wished to make him his private secretary (1767), but the Comte de Henin, who was the patron of François, insisted upon his protégé leaving Ferney and accepting a post in the magistracy. The town of Neufchâteau solemnly adopted their illustrious young citizen, who from thenceforward added the name of Neufchâteau to that of François.

He was brought under the notice of Maréchal de Costires, then Minister of Marine, who appointed François Procurator to the General Council in the Colony of St. Domingo, now the Island of Hayti.

After spending five years in the West Indies, the young magistrate obtained leave of absence, and started for France, bringing with him the literary work of five years, including a complete translation of the works of Ariosto. His ship was wrecked, and he was cast on a desert island; all his manuscripts going down with the ill-fated vessel. François Neufchâteau considered this loss to be the great catastrophe of his life. He was finally rescued, reaching France in safety, and receiving a pension of 3000 livres (£120), proposed to devote his life to literature and poetry.

The events of 1789 altered the current of his existence. He was elected a member of the Assembly, and the following year sent as Commissionary to the Vosges for the organisation of that new Department.

He was eventually appointed President of the first Legislative Assembly.

He refused the Ministry of Justice, choosing instead the humbler but safer position of juge de paix in the Department of Vosges.

His friends persuaded him to return to Paris to superintend the rehearsal of his play “Pamela” (translated from one of Goldoni’s comedies) at the Théâtre Français. Produced on August 1, 1793, this innocent and simple drama achieved an immense success, and was played for eight consecutive nights. The curtain was just about to rise upon the ninth performance, when a message from the Committee of Public Safety arrived to stop the play, the author was summoned before the Committee the same evening, and ordered to bring with him the manuscript of the piece. Neufchâteau submitted humbly to all demands as to corrections and excisions, altered, as desired, the fourth and fifth acts of the play, and even gave it a different ending. Robespierre and his Council permitted the performance of the revised play. It was reproduced September 1, and again ran for eight nights; upon the ninth evening this verse was applauded:—

Ah! les persécuteurs sont les seuls condamnable,

Et les plus tolérants sont les plus raisonnable.

Before the play was finished, the Committee of Public Safety served the following order at the Théâtre Français:

“The Théâtre Français is to be immediately closed, the actors, actresses, and employées arrested, together with the author of ‘Pamela,’ and conveyed to the Prison of La Force.”

In this prison Neufchâteau remained eleven months, until August 4, 1794, when he was released, and shortly afterwards appointed Judge of the High Court during the Directorate, after being Governmental Commissionary for some time in the district of the Vosges. He became Minister of the Interior in 1797. In all these appointments he gave many proofs of capacity, judgment, moderation, and kindliness of heart.

When the Consulate was established he was not only made a Senator, but occupied the Presidential Chair of the Senate until 1808, when he abandoned politics for scientific and literary pursuits. He was deprived of his peerage (Napoleon had made him a Count of the Empire) at the Restoration, but allowed to retain his membership of the Academy.

Although married four times, he left only one surviving son. A painful malady rendered Neufchâteau a helpless invalid for the last ten years of his life, but he retained his lively philosophic character to the last, and was constantly surrounded by friends and admirers, who enjoyed his witty as well as learned conversation. He continued his literary work until his death.

His moral tales, poems, and philosophical and historical treatises are now forgotten; but his writings upon scientific agriculture are still consulted by experts in that science.

LE NÔTRE, André.

A celebrated designer of gardens. Born, 1613; died, 1700.

Louis XIV. commissioned him to lay out the park and gardens of Versailles, and gave him entire control over the royal gardens of France. The geographical situation of Versailles made any arrangements for gardens, fountains, and terraces extremely difficult, but Le Nôtre overcame all difficulties, and fed the fountains by constructing a canal to carry off the waters of a neighbouring marsh, which was thus rendered a fertile and cultivated spot.

Le Nôtre created the gardens of Marly, and also constructed the splendid terrace at St. Germain. He laid out the gardens of Chantilly for the Prince de Condé of the day. Those at Fontainebleau and St. Cloud were also designed by him. Proceeding to England in the reign of Charles II., he laid out and arranged the present Parks of Greenwich and St. James. The lake in the latter was constructed by Le Nôtre.

Le Nôtre was a man of the most simple and natural nature, and for that very reason was probably one of the greatest favourites, among his servants, of Louis XIV. This anecdote, which is historically true, describes the character of the man: In 1678 he made a visit to Italy to study the beautiful gardens which surround the great villas of that country. He was received in audience by Pope Innocent XI., who treated him with much distinction, and Le Nôtre, as he was taking leave, remarked: “I have now nothing more to desire; I have seen the two greatest men in the world—your Holiness and the King of France.” “There is a great difference between us,” replied the Pope; “the King of France is a great and victorious Prince, I am but a poor priest, the servant of the servants of God.” Le Nôtre, delighted with this reply, slapped the Pope familiarly on the back, saying, “Holy Father, do not be despondent; you look in perfect health, and may live to bury every present member of your sacred College.” Innocent XI. burst into a fit of laughter, and Le Nôtre threw himself on the Pope’s neck, kissing him affectionately. Le Nôtre retired, delighted with his interview, and proceeded to write full details of it to Bontemps, the confidential valet of Louis XIV.; this letter was read aloud at the Petit Levée of the King. Several courtiers doubted the truth of its contents, but the King said, “Why not? Whenever I return from a campaign and give Le Nôtre an audience he always embraces me, so he most likely embraces the Pope also.”

At the age of eighty, when he wished to retire, Le Nôtre only obtained permission to do so on the condition he would pay a weekly visit to the King. He died at eighty-seven, and was buried in the church of St. Roch in Paris, in a chapel he had founded.

He refused armorial bearings when offered a patent of nobility, declaring his only crest was a spade.

D’ORLÉANS, Louis Philippe Joseph, Duc (Philippe Egalité).

Born at St. Cloud, April 13, 1747. Guillotined in Paris, November 6, 1793.

His tutor was the Comte St. Meurice, and great pains were taken with his education.

He appears to have inherited the character and disposition of his great grandfather, the Regent, without the firmness of disposition and great natural intelligence and perspicuity possessed by that Prince.

In 1769 he married Louise de Bourbon, only daughter of the Duke de Penthièvre. At the wedding he greatly scandalised the Court by his behaviour, although his offence was only that natural to a lively young man. Being accidentally placed on the left, instead of the right, of the bride, he took a running leap and jumped over her train to reach the other side.

Soon after his marriage, he entered on a life of wild dissipation, became a Freemason, declared his admiration for everything English, and imported horses and jockeys from the other side of the Channel. He also made every effort to gain popularity with the people. In 1771 he opposed the decree by which, in the last years of the reign of Louis XV., the Chancellor Maupeon had suppressed the provincial Parliaments of France, and was in consequence exiled to his country seat during the remainder of that King’s reign. Immediately on his accession, Louis XVI. re-established these Parliaments, and the Duc de Chartres (as he then was) returned to Court.

When the war broke out between France and England, the young Duke petitioned that he might act for his father-in-law, the Duke de Penthièvre, who was Grand Admiral of France. This was refused; he was, however, given a nominal command in the fleet of Admiral d’Orvilliers. He was present at the battle of Onessant, where he commanded the squadron of the blue, under the surveillance of Admiral Lamotte Picquet, who was really in charge of this portion of the fleet. The admiral gave an excellent account of the courage and coolness shown by the Prince when under fire.

The French were victorious, but, owing to the incompetency of d’Orvilliers, gained no real advantage from the combat.

The fleet returned to Brest, August 2, 1778, and when the Duc de Chartres reached Paris he was received with so much enthusiasm by the populace as to excite the apprehension of the Court party and to evoke an indignant hostility from the Queen.

Shortly afterwards the Duke returned to his duties on the fleet, and his enemies at Court took the opportunity of his absence to spread against him the most scandalous libels—amongst others that the Duke de Penthièvre was persuaded that his son-in-law desired to supplant him in the post of Grand Admiral, whereas he only desired to act as his deputy. So well did his enemies work, that when Chartres returned after a few months’ absence, he was as coldly received by the populace as by the courtiers. More than this, when he wished to return to the fleet, his command was taken from him and he was compelled to leave the Navy. This treatment was rendered the more bitter, as the first intimation he received of it was in a letter from his avowed enemy the Queen.

From this moment the Duke avoided the Court, although he retained a friendship for the Comte d’Artois, and the two young Princes were companions in pleasure. The Queen, who was greatly attached to her young brother-in-law, used all her influence to draw him away from the “contagion” of Orleans. She persuaded the King to buy the Château de S. Cloud from the Duke (it was the favourite residence of the latter), and although d’Orléans was both furious and chagrined at being compelled to part with his château, he had no alternative but to obey the order of his sovereign. The huge sum raised to buy this palace was a serious drain on the exhausted Treasury, and the Queen lived to bitterly regret her imprudent action. A libel was freely circulated and believed all over France, on the occasion of the death of the Prince de Lamballe, only son of the Duke de Penthièvre. It was said that d’Orleans had poisoned his brother-in-law, in order that his wife might be sole heiress to the vast fortune of her father. The Queen went so far as to say publicly she feared a similar fate would soon befall the Comte d’Artois. Driven from the Court by these outrages, the Duke d’Orleans’ amiable and débonnaire nature became utterly soured. In the first Assembly of Notables he became one of the leaders of the Opposition. On November 19, 1787, when the King proposed to this Assembly two edicts—one for the creation of a stamp duty, the other for a graduated loan of 440,000,000 francs—the Duke d’Orleans rose and boldly questioned the monarch, asking him whether this sitting was “a bed of justice” or “an open debate.” “It is a royal sitting,” the King replied. “If that is the case,” answered the Duke, “I protest against this measure; for I declare that the right of voting taxes only belongs to the States-General.” Only two other Councillors agreed with the Duke, and the edicts were immediately carried. Fréteau and Sabatier, the Councillors in question, were immediately exiled to Iles d’Hyères, the Duke of Orleans to Villers. This disgrace immensely increased the Duke’s popularity. He did not return to Paris for a year, and when the States-General was assembled he was elected deputy for Crespy. During the solemn procession at Versailles (May 4, 1789), before the opening of this Assembly, it was noticed with what affectation the Duke sought to mingle with the ranks of the Deputies of the Tiers État.

In the first sittings of the States-General, the Duke pronounced energetically in favour of the reunion of all the orders. On June 25 he, together with forty-six other noblemen, joined the Tiers État, now the National Assembly; on July 3 he was elected President, but refused the honour. On the 12th the people, exasperated by the fall of Necker, carried the busts of Necker and the Duke about Paris under the leadership of Legendre. It was from the gardens of the Duke’s house (the Palais Royal) that, two days later, the organised mob departed to take the Bastille.

Had d’Orléans possessed at this moment sufficient determination and intellectual force, he might easily have become Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, with Necker for his Prime Minister. But he had not enough courage, nor, possibly, enough ambition to carry out any definite project; and he drove his partisans, among whom was Mirabeau, to despair by his hesitating and undecided conduct. He remained a member of the Extreme Left of the Assembly, but scarcely ever made a public speech. In October of the same year, the Court party, and also the bourgeois, were so exasperated against the Duke of Orleans, that Lafayette himself was persuaded to order the Duke out of France. He was sent to London on an imaginary mission: returned the following summer, was acclaimed by the Assembly, and renewed his alliance with Mirabeau.

After the flight of Louis XVI., in June 1791, the throne was temporarily vacant; and again, had the Duke chosen to come forward, his advances would have been well received by the nation and the Assembly. He did not dare to do so, and so lost his last opportunity.

The next month the new Constitution ordained that French Princes could not be elected to any functions by the votes of the people; Orléans, therefore, publicly renounced all prerogatives or privileges accorded to Royalty, and declared himself a simple citizen.

At that time there was an attempted reconciliation between the King and the Duke, which was doubtless sincere on both sides. The new Minister of Marine, Bertrand de Motteville, arranged that the Duke of Orleans should be one of the Vice-Admirals in the reorganised fleet. The project was communicated to Louis XVI., who expressed himself satisfied, and the Duke was grateful. The King and he, by the medium of de Motteville, had a private interview, and parted on friendly terms. The following Sunday (January 1792) the new Admiral came to the Tuileries to pay homage to the King. It was the dinner-hour, the table for the King and Queen was already laid, and the room was full of courtiers. As soon as the Duke appeared, he became the object for the most opprobrious insults. “Take care of the dishes!” was shouted on all sides—the insinuation being he was about to put poison in them. He was pushed about, his feet were purposely trodden on, and as he descended the stairs several persons spat on his head and clothes. He left in a state of indescribable rage, believing that the King had enticed him to the Palace in order to insult him; the King was really innocent of the whole matter, but sent no message of apology or regret.

From that day Orléans threw himself with energy into the extreme revolutionary party, and by becoming Danton’s banker drew him away from the Court party, in whose pay that corrupt politician had for some time been.

Orléans became Deputy for Paris in the Convention, accepting the name of Philippe Égalité, which title was bestowed upon him on September 15, 1792. When the King’s trial took place, “Egalité” said Robespierre, “is the only member who has a right to refuse to vote.” But Orléans thought he would save his own head and his credit with the Jacobins by condemning his relative. When his name was called, he said: “Entirely preoccupied by a sense of duty, and convinced that all those who attempted to reign or have reigned as sovereigns over the people merit death—I vote for death.” This speech did not have the expected effect, those who were not indignant being disgusted at it.

On April 6 of the same year the Convention ordered that “all members of the Bourbon family be detained as hostages”; on the 7th, Orléans was arrested and conducted to Marseilles. He addressed petition after petition to the Convention without effect, and was removed to Paris and imprisoned at the Conciergerie on October 3. Both Queen Marie Antoinette and d’Orleans simultaneously occupied cells in this prison for a space of a few days. Two or three weeks after her execution the Duke was put upon his trial; he defended himself with courage and coolness, but his fate was sealed in advance. After condemnation he asked to be executed without delay; and on the same afternoon, four hours after the trial, he was conducted to the scaffold with five Deputies, condemned, like himself, as Girondists. He passed by his former palace on the way to execution, and, pointing to it, exclaimed, with a gesture of contempt, “How they applauded me once!” When he had left the cart and mounted the plank of the guillotine he said to the executioner, “Do not let your fellows pull off my boots until I am dead, they will come off easier then; make haste! make haste!” These were his last words.

PAINE, Thomas.

Born at Thetford, Norfolk, in 1737; died at New York, 1809.

Paine was the son of a Quaker staymaker. He learnt to read, write, and cypher at a free school, and at the age of sixteen worked at his father’s trade. He twice ran away from home to go to sea; but married in 1759 and settled in Sandwich, still working as a staymaker. His wife dying two years later, he went to London, and obtained a situation as schoolmaster in an elementary school, and toiled hard for two years at his own self-education.

In 1771 he married the daughter of a tobacconist, and joined his father-in-law in trade. His affairs did not prosper, and three years later he became bankrupt. He decided to emigrate to America; having made the acquaintance of Franklin (at that time in London), the latter, as a fellow Quaker, gave him letters of recommendation. Paine was thirty-seven when he embarked for America; on his arrival in Philadelphia he was engaged as editor for a periodical called the Philadelphian Magazine. His articles began to excite attention, particularly several against slavery.

He took the most ardent interest in the struggle between England and America. After the battle of Bunker Hill it was still undecided whether the colonists would demand complete independence and separation, or be satisfied with certain concessions on the part of the mother country. It was then Paine published his famous pamphlet “Common Sense,” which produced a tremendous impression, more than 100,000 copies being sold. From an obscure individual he became a celebrity. During the remainder of his life Paine invariably signed himself “Common Sense,” and was convinced that had he not written the work in question the United States, as a nation, would never have come into existence.

The following autumn he joined the American army as aide-de-camp to General Green, and in 1777 he was appointed by Congress Secretary to the Committee of Foreign Affairs; after two years he was dismissed, under the accusation of indiscretion as to diplomatic secrets. In 1781 he accompanied Colonel Laurence, whom Congress had commissioned to try and raise a loan, to France. This mission was a complete success. Louis XVI. lent six millions of francs, and guaranteed another ten millions promised by Holland.

Peace having been declared, Paine returned to America. As a return for his services, Congress voted him 5500 dollars in two separate sums, and gave him a grant of 300 acres of land and a house.

Paine proceeded to work out various scientific and mechanical problems, by which he hoped to realise a large fortune, his favourite dream being to throw an iron bridge over the Schuykill. Want of capital, and the impossibility of getting iron properly wrought or cast in America, caused his return to Europe. He proposed to present the model of his bridge to the French Academy of Science, Franklin giving him letters of introduction: the Academy received him well, and their committee made a favourable report. But politics, and not science, were in the air, and no one could be persuaded to put money into the venture. Paine then went to London in hopes of better luck; a Yorkshire ironmaster took up the invention, and an American merchant advanced the money; but the expenses proved far heavier than had been anticipated, the ironmaster went bankrupt, and his creditors arrested Paine, who only obtained his liberty at the sacrifice of most of his little fortune.

The Revolution had now broken out in France, and the English Whig party, which had at first shown much sympathy with the movement, became alarmed and shocked at the excesses and disorders it entailed. In 1790 Burke published his celebrated treatise, “Thoughts on the French Revolution,” which Paine answered by his equally well-known work, “The Rights of Man.” This book excited immense indignation in England among the general public, and its author was burnt in effigy in the streets. The second part of the “Rights of Man,” which was published in February 1792, was still more violent, containing direct personal attacks upon George III. These books delighted the extremists, and were immediately translated into French. The British Ministry issued a royal proclamation forbidding seditious writings, and summoned Paine before the Court of King’s Bench.

At the same time a deputation of electors arrived from France to inform Paine that he had been elected a Member of the Convention; flattered by this distinction, he started at once for France, and an hour after he had sailed the order for his arrest arrived. He was tried by default, and his sentence was banishment for life from Great Britain and Ireland. As he could not speak French, he was unable to take part in the debates of the Convention; but when the King’s trial took place he fought courageously against the death sentence, and caused the following expression of his opinions to be read aloud by one of his fellow members:

To kill Louis would not only be a gross act of inhumanity, but also of insane folly. His death would augment the number of your enemies. If I could speak French I would now descend and appear as a humble suppliant before your bar, imploring you in the name of my generous American brethren not to send Louis to execution.

This generous action on the part of Paine completely destroyed his credit with the Jacobins, and also in a great measure his general popularity in France. The governing party were from that time his open enemies; Robespierre erased his name from the list of members of the Convention, as “a foreigner who was an enemy to Liberty and Equality.” He was arrested and imprisoned in the Luxemburg.

Thomas Paine remained for more than a year in prison in daily expectation of death. It was only by a mistake on the part of his gaoler in reading out the names of the condemned that he escaped execution. Even the fall of Robespierre did not give him freedom; and he was at length liberated in November 1794, by the influence of Monroe, the American Minister, who claimed him as a citizen of the United States.

He attempted to obtain a seat in the Assembly, but was not elected. The long imprisonment had not only affected his health but also his intelligence. He published a work entitled the “Age of Reason”—a violent attack upon Christianity, which aroused a sensation in England, and evoked much energetic refutation of its teaching. It made Paine a vast number of enemies in the United States, and he rendered the situation still more impossible by publishing in 1797 a letter, full of bitterness and ill-nature, criticising the character and administration of Washington.

He did not leave France until the autumn of 1802, when he returned to America, where he found he had lost the consideration and respect which he formerly enjoyed in the United States.

His last years were spent in loneliness and neglect. He was thought by his enemies to be avaricious, dirty and careless of his appearance, and to indulge in intemperate habits. He died, almost forgotten, in New York in 1809, aged seventy-one, and was buried upon his farm at New Rochelle. In 1837 Cobbett transported the remains to England, where they were reverently received by the Radicals and Chartists of the day.

PIUS VI., Giovanni Angelo, Count de Braschi.

Born, December 27, 1717; died at Valence, August 29, 1799.

He was the only child of Count More Aurelius Braschi, the head of one of the oldest families in the Romagna. To his parents’ grief he insisted upon taking holy orders, and was appointed secretary to his maternal uncle, Cardinal Ruffio, Legate at Ferrara. Later Braschi became auditor to the Bishoprics of Ostia and Velletri; while in the latter city, in 1744, when there was an encounter between the Austrians and Neapolitans (the latter commanded by King Charles III. of Spain, then King of Naples), Braschi was able by his presence of mind to save the Neapolitan archives. This circumstance brought him to the notice of the King of Naples, who promised him his protection: shortly afterwards he successfully conducted a mission from the Pope to the King of Naples, and was appointed Camariere Segreto and Canon of St. Peter’s. In 1758 he became a Prelate, and Treasurer-General of the Apostolic Chamber. Clement XIV. created him a Cardinal in 1773, and in 1775 he was elected Pope, under the title of Pius VI.

His reign inaugurated an era of reform; he issued many rules and regulations as to the dress and general conduct of the clergy, which at the time, owing to the indifference and weakness of his immediate predecessor’s administration, left much to be desired.

His position as treasurer had given him an insight into the abuses prevailing in the financial department of the Papal Government, and a reduction or suppression of a number of dishonestly obtained pensions took place. He published various laws for the protection of farmers and corn-dealers, and offered substantial pecuniary rewards to industrious and intelligent peasant farmers. A Congregation of Cardinals was called together to pass regulations to put a stop to the grave disorders occasioned by idleness, mendicity, and too low wages; the system of weights and measures was thoroughly investigated, and one contractor in particular, who had received 900,000 crowns from the Apostolic See during the famine of 1771–72 to buy grain for the assistance of ruined farmers, was forced to restore 280,000 crowns of this money to the Treasury. Pius VI. ordered the drainage of the Pontine Marshes, and employed for this purpose the celebrated engineer, Louis Benck; and although the work was not finished, owing to the Revolution, 12,000 acres were reclaimed. He also cleared the Appian Way, then impassable owing to the vast multitude of stone heaps from ruined buildings by which it was encumbered. Pius VI. embellished, completed, arranged, and classified the “Museo Clementino.” Combined with these reforms he gave great attention to charitable institutions, initiated those schools of the Christian Brothers which are now spread all over the world, and erected many orphanages and refuges for poor children of both sexes.

Pius’s serious troubles began with the accession of that misguided but well-meaning monarch, Joseph II. of Austria. This Emperor’s intentions were excellent, nor was he impious or irreligious, yet by his exorbitant pretensions to sovereignty in every department of the State, and his avowed intention to re-organise on his own responsibility the spiritual affairs of his Empire, he was a powerful agent to the enemies of Christianity. After having continued for some time a correspondence with the Emperor which led to no satisfactory understanding on either side, Pius VI. determined to seek a personal interview with him. Leaving on February 27, 1782, he arrived on March 22 at Vienna. The Emperor received the Pope with the utmost courtesy, but remained inflexible, and Pius VI. soon perceived that his long journey had been in vain. However, Joseph II. treated the Pope with the greatest outward magnificence, and endeavoured to appease him by offering the brevet of a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire to Count Louis Braschi, the Pontiff’s nephew and heir. This the Pope refused, saying: “We are not occupied with the advancement or grandeur of our family, our interests are concentrated on those of the Church.” The following year Joseph II. returned the Pope’s visit, but on his way to Rome he appointed a new Archbishop of Milan without consulting the Holy See; but gave way, however, on this point later, and the result of the visit was the signature of a Concordat between the Pope and Austria, which put an end to the principal misunderstandings, although, until his death, Joseph never ceased to be a source of anxiety and annoyance to his Holiness.

The French Revolution brought more trouble to Pius VI. After the measures taken against the clergy, attacks began to be levelled at the Roman Curia. The Assembly introduced the “Constitution Civile du Clergé,” which, by abolishing the various hierarchical degrees, destroyed the ancient Gallican Church; and Avignon, a part of the Papal States since mediæval times, was formally united to France. The Pope was powerless, and the storm of war began to descend on Italy: Savoy and Nice were invaded, the clergy compelled to fly before the persecutions of the Republic, and the States of the Church were crowded by destitute ecclesiastics of every condition, who were hospitably entertained by the Pope, whose own turn of misfortune was at hand; the French Government accused him of being “an enemy of the changes in the French Government”; they invaded the Pontifical territory, and Pius signed in 1797 the treaty of Tolentio, by which he gave up Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna, and renounced all claims to the sovereignty over Avignon.

Throughout these reverses Pius VI. showed courage, self-control and prudence. The Directorate were determined to drive him from Rome; they therefore excited a riot in the city, and under pretence of quelling it, despatched an army, commanded by General Berthier, which camped under the walls of Rome, January 29, 1798. (As Bonaparte was at that time in Egypt, and did not return until after the death of the Pope, he took no part in the events which followed.)

On February 15, the French general threw off the mask, entered Rome, and the robbery and sacrilege commenced. Five days later the Swiss Haller, the corrupt treasurer of the French army, seized the person of the Pontiff, flung him by force into a post-chaise, and, without attendants, luggage or any conveniences for a winter’s journey, carried this infirm old man of eighty into exile. He was first taken to Siena, then to the Benedictine mountain fortress of San Cassiano, to Florence, to Parma, to Piacenza, to Turin; at length, worn out and half paralysed, he arrived at Valence on July 14, after enduring five months’ imprisonment, privation and misery, during which time no pity had been shown him, although his physical condition was most pitiful, for he had suffered a paralytic stroke, and from sheer weakness his body had become covered with ulcers. He was incarcerated in the ordinary prison of the citadel at Valence and kept in solitary confinement; but by this time he was indifferent to earthly affairs, and his time spent entirely in prayer. He retained his faculties to the last, and, as a special favour, permitted to receive the last Sacraments at the hands of a fellow prisoner, Mgr. Spina, Archbishop of Corinth.

Pius VI. died on August 26, 1799, at one o’clock in the morning, aged eighty-one years and eight months. His body was buried without any ceremony in the desecrated chapel of the citadel; but after the establishment of the Concordat it was, by the orders of the First Consul, removed to Rome, and now lies there in the Church of St. Peter. He was Pope for more than twenty-four years.

PELLETIER, Jacques.

Born, 1760; died, 1839.

A rich landed proprietor who adopted revolutionary principles, represented the Department of Cher in the Convention, and voted for Louis XVI.’s death, subject to an appeal to the people. After the 9th Thermidor, he was sent to administer Languedoc, showed firmness, justice and moderation, and in 1795 was one of the Commissioners for the Directorate.

Banished as a regicide in 1816, he was allowed to return to France in 1819, and the last twenty years of his life were uneventful.

PRIEUR, Claude Antoine Duvernois.

Born, 1763; died, 1832.

The son of a receiver of taxes at Auxonne, Prieur was an officer in the Engineers at the time of the Revolution, which he joined from its outset. Elected by the Côte d’Or to the Assembly, the Convention, and finally to the Council of the Five Hundred, he sat in all these Assemblies from 1791 to 1793, and distinguished himself by his genuine Republicanism, was for a short time President of the Convention, but after August 10 joined the Army of the Rhine.

At the King’s trial he voted for the immediate execution of the accused. Three months later the Convention sent him to Normandy to put down the counter revolutionary projects of the Girondins, who succeeded in arresting Prieur and his brother commissionary, and they remained fifty-one days in the prisons of Caen. On his return to Paris, Prieur became a member of the Committee of Public Safety (August 1793). At the time of the Revolution of 18th Brumaire, Prieur was once more with the army, acting as a colonel in the Engineers, but being too republican to serve the First Consul, he in 1800 retired from military service.

He was one of those few among the revolutionists who was an admirable organiser and a practical man. He worked heart and soul for the re-establishment of Public Instruction, and together with Mouge helped to found the École Polytechnique. Prieur was the author of the great reform in the metric system.

PRONY, Gaspard Clair Français Marie Riche de.

Born, 1755; died, 1839.

One of the greatest engineers of France. In 1787 he commenced the bridge, first called Pont Louis XVI., and now Pont de la Concorde, which was completed in 1791, when Prony was appointed chief engineer of France. The same year he undertook the composition of new tables of trigonometry adapted to the decimal division of the circle. Prony completed his work in three years, and in 1798 became the Director of the École des Ponts et des Chaussées and professor of mechanics and mathematics at the École Polytechnique. Bonaparte made every effort to induce Prony to abandon this appointment and accompany him to Egypt, but was unsuccessful. During the Consulate and Empire, Prony’s word was considered law in all that concerned civil engineering in France, and after the restoration he retained his post at the École Polytechnique. In 1818 he was sent to Italy to carry out improvements in the Ports of Genoa, Pola, and Ancona, and to give an opinion upon the possible regularisation of the course of the Po, and in 1827 he carried out works which successfully stopped the annual floods in the Rhone valley, for which service Charles X. created him a Baron.

He died at the age of eighty-four.

LA REVEILLIÈRE, Louis Marie.

Born, 1753; died, 1824.

One of the five Directors, and at the time of the dissolution of the Directorate their President. Unlike Barras and his co-directors, la Reveillière was an honest man and a sincere Republican. He refused to take the oath of allegiance to Napoleon as First Consul or Emperor, and retired into private life after the events of the 18th Brumaire (Nov. 1799).

REGNIER, Duc de Massa, Claude Ambroise.

Born, 1736; died, June 24, 1814.

He was at the time of the Revolution one of the most distinguished lawyers in Nancy. He pronounced violently in favour of the new doctrines, and was elected by the Tiers État of his native town as their representative at the States-General. He took a considerable part in the debates of the Assembly, and defended Nancy against the attacks of the Jacobins. When the Convention took extreme measures, Regnier disappeared from Paris until the events of the 9th Thermidor were concluded. In 1795 he joined the Council of the Ancients, and became first Secretary to and then President of the Council. He opposed the return of the exiled émigrés and caused the transportation of many priests (February 1796). He was re-elected in 1799, but as he was persuaded, by this time, that the Directorate could neither serve the peace nor the aggrandisement of France, he took an active part in arranging the coup d’état of the 18th Brumaire (Nov. 1799). It was in his house that the conspirators met the day before this event took place. When he was appointed a member of the Conseil d’État, he catalogued and investigated all details with regard to the National Domains. He was the principal author of that code of laws known as the Code Napoleon, still the law of France. In 1802 he became Minister of Justice and also Chief Judge of France; he held these offices until 1813. He was created Duc de Massa by the Emperor in 1805. In 1813, after resigning the portfolio of Minister of Justice, Regnier became President of the Corps Législatif. After the first abdication of Napoleon Regnier hoped to retain his position, but he was doomed to be disappointed, a misfortune which, together with the fall of the Emperor, to whom he was personally attached, probably hastened his death, which occurred two months later, at the age of seventy-eight.

ROBESPIERRE, Maximilien Marie Isidore de.

Born at Arras, May 6, 1756; died in Paris, July 1794.

The public history of Robespierre is so well known that it is unnecessary to give it here. A short description of his early life, previous to becoming a Deputy to the States-General in 1789, may, however, be of interest, as but little is known.

Robespierre’s father, a lawyer, was a man of eccentric habits and peculiar disposition, who after the death of his wife left his native town, and, it is believed, went to England and America. Nothing was again seen of him in France, nor did he ever communicate with his family. He left behind him three young children, Augustus, Maximilien, and a daughter Margaret. Of these Maximilien was adopted by two maiden aunts, who sent him to the College at Arras, and defrayed the expenses of his education. The religious circle in which his aunts lived brought the boy in contact with the wealthy and influential clergy of the town; a canon of the Cathedral of Arras took him under his immediate protection, and obtained for him, when twelve years of age, a bourse or scholarship at the College of Louis le Grand, Paris. Robespierre, during his six years’ stay at this College, was studious, obedient, and intelligent, and took a first prize in the class of rhetoric. Among his schoolfellows were Camille, Desmoulins, and Fréron. On leaving college, Robespierre, who was very poor, studied law. A letter addressed by him to the Abbé Proyart, is still extant, in which he begs for a little help towards purchasing a decent suit of clothes in which to present himself before the Bishop of Arras, one of his protectors then in Paris. At this time (1778) Robespierre was twenty years of age. After completing his legal studies, he returned to his native town and exercised his profession as lawyer. His reputation had preceded him, and he soon obtained many clients, unfortunately for him most of them poorer than himself. Many reports of his pleadings remain—they are (most of them) mere declamations or speeches upon political and social questions; full of tirades against the “ignorance, prejudice, and those passions which form a redoubtable league against all men of genius—in order to punish these men for the services they render to humanity.” These speeches produced a great sensation. Robespierre invariably interlarded his discourses with the most fulsome eulogies of the King. In one speech he speaks of “that beloved and sacred head, the head of the Prince who is the delight and glory of France.” He occupied his spare time in literary pursuits, and wrote a great deal of indifferent poetry. He was in 1783 elected member of the Academy of Arras. His reputation for eloquence and intellect was now such that when the States-General assembled he was immediately chosen one of the sixteen representatives for the province of Artois. He was then so poor that he was obliged to borrow ten louis and a travelling trunk in order to be able to proceed to Paris. The inventory of the contents of his trunk is preserved, viz.: “six shirts, six neckcloths, and six pocket handkerchiefs, of which the greater portion are in good order.”

ROCHEFOUCAULT, François Alexandre Frederic, Duke de la (Liancourt.) Born, 1737; died, 1827, aged eighty.

This distinguished nobleman was the son of the Duke d’Estissac and of Marie, daughter and heiress of the Duke Alexandre de la Rochefoucault, from whom he inherited his title. He joined the regiment of Carabineers when a mere lad, and married at the age of seventeen. His father was Grand Master of the King’s Garderobe, this appointment being hereditary in the family. The young Duke of Liancourt, as he was then called, did not find favour with Madame du Barry. He left Court in 1769, and paid a long visit to England. On his return he put into practice, upon his estate at Liancourt, the industrial and agricultural improvements he had observed upon his journey; amongst other undertakings he started a model farm, and brought cattle from Switzerland and Germany, to improve the breed of cows. He founded an industrial school at Liancourt for the education and instruction of the children of poor soldiers. In 1786 de la Rochefoucault accompanied Louis XVI. on a progress through Normandy, and showed the King the various industrial and agricultural establishments of that province, then in a very prosperous condition. When the States-General assembled, the Duke de Liancourt was elected Deputy by the nobility of Clermont. His position in the Assembly was that of a defender of Royalty, and also of public liberty. On July 12, 1789, the Duke de Liancourt, who, though no courtier, was one of the few sincere friends of Louis XVI., for whom he had a personal regard, appeared at Versailles and gave a true and succinct account of the agitation which was pervading the capital. “It is a revolt,” said the astonished monarch. “Sire,” replied the Duke, “it is a Revolution.” The Bastille fell two days later. On July 18 the Duke was invested with the Presidency of the Assembly. After the session of the Assembly had concluded, he returned to Liancourt, where he continued his industrial experiments, and founded in 1790 work-rooms for spinning and weaving cotton and wool under a new process. As a lieutenant-general, his rank in the army, he commanded a military division in Normandy, and, when the first excesses of the Revolution began, implored the King and Royal Family to take refuge at Rouen. Had this proposal been accepted much trouble might have been averted. Upon the King’s refusal of his offer the Duke generously put at his disposal the sum of 150,000 livres (£6000). The horrors of August 10 decided the Duke to fly from France, and pass into England. In exile he was almost without resources. An old maiden lady, in whom—although she had never seen him—he inspired a romantic interest, left him her whole fortune, some £50,000. He refused to accept any part of the legacy, and handed the money to her legal heirs. The death of Louis XVI. induced the Duke de la Rochefoucault (since the massacre of his cousin in 1793, he had assumed this title) to leave Europe and spend several years in America, devoting his time to scientific studies, and observations of the Government and character of the people of the United States, and even of the Indians in Canada. Louis XVIII. sent him in 1798 an imperious message, commanding him to join him and take up his duties as Grand Master of the royal household, an order which the Duke respectfully declined; Louis XVIII. never forgave him, and there is little doubt the neglect and quasi-disgrace with which la Rochefoucault was treated after the Restoration arose mainly from this unforgotten incident.

In 1799 Rochefoucault returned to France, and dwelt for some time ignored in Paris; he was still, however, conferring benefits upon humanity. As soon as his name was erased from the list of émigrés he started a committee for vaccination in Paris, and opened a dispensary for the purpose of making this remedy known among the people. When he was allowed to return to Liancourt, he found to his delight that notwithstanding the storms of the Revolution, every succeeding Government since his departure had respected the institutions he had created. The Emperor Napoleon bestowed upon him the legion of honour, but affected to treat him as a manufacturer, and did not offer him a peerage. The Duke lived entirely at Liancourt. In 1809 when Napoleon restored his title, and gave him the right of grand entry to the Imperial Court, la Rochefoucault did not take advantage of this favour, and remained in retirement until the Restoration. Louis XVIII. treated him with marked coldness and disfavour, and did not appoint him to any office at Court. Rochefoucault, nevertheless, was a member of the House of Peers as a Duke of France. In 1816 he was elected member of the general council of the hospitals of Paris. The Duke de la Rochefoucault inaugurated the “Society of Christian Morals” in 1821, and soon afterwards became President of the school of Arts et Métiers, founded by him at Liancourt, now transferred to Châlons, and member of the Councils of Agriculture, Hospitals and Prisons. In 1823 the reactionist Ministry, who disapproved of his political views, relieved him of all his public but strictly honourable functions, on the ground of his age (76). Not daring to deprive him of his Presidency of the Committee on vaccination, they suppressed this Committee altogether. On March 21, 1827, whilst the Duke was speaking in the Chamber of Peers, he was suddenly seized with a fit, and expired four days later.

On the day of his funeral, a number of old students of his school of Arts et Métiers came to the church, with the intention of carrying his coffin; when they attempted to do so, they were suddenly charged by a troop of mounted gens d’armes in the Rue St. Honoré, and the Duke’s coffin fell in the mud, his coronet and other symbols of the peerage being trampled under foot.

ROEDERER, Pierre Louis, Comte de.

Born 1654 at Metz; died in 1735.

His father, a lawyer at Strasbourg, compelled his son, who was an ardent disciple of Jean Jacques Rousseau, to follow the parental profession, much against his will.

Roederer began his political life in 1788, by publishing a pamphlet on the “Deputation to the States-General,” when he also became a journalist. Sent by the electors of Metz to the States-General, as a representative of the Tiers État, he took an important part in the debates, proposing the new law reforms, the institution of trial by jury, the abolition of religious orders and of titles of nobility, and demanding also liberty for the press and equality in political rights for every citizen. He showed great financial ability, compiled the new stamp and patent laws, inventing a new system of taxation. He was a member of the Jacobin Society until June 20, 1792, after which date (the day of the first invasion of the Tuileries) he seceded from the club, and from that period the extreme party were his mortal enemies. On August 10 he, together with Merlin, conducted the Royal Family to the Assembly, and protected, helped, and comforted them to the best of his power.

The following day he was denounced by the Jacobins, but not arrested, and he prudently disappeared from the Assembly, and devoted himself entirely to the sub-editorship of the Journal de Paris. An article in this paper, dated January 6, 1793, in which Roederer denied the right of the Convention to try the King, brought him into immediate danger; however, he fled from Paris, and did not reappear there until after the 9th Thermidor (July 28, 1794).

In 1795 he became editor of the Journal de Paris. He was threatened with transportation to Guienne during the Directorate, and only saved by the direct intervention of Talleyrand. He was now satisfied that a firm and stable government was the sole means of the regenerating of France, and was therefore an active agent for what he termed the “generous and patriotic conspiracy” of the 18th Brumaire. He wrote the “Address to the Parisians,” which was placarded upon the walls of Paris on that eventful morning.

Bonaparte made him Councillor of State on 25th December, 1799, and in 1802 he was named Director of L’Esprit Public, a position which gave him control of all the theatres and of public instruction. In 1806 he was sent to Naples, of which Joseph Bonaparte had just been created King, and by Napoleon’s orders undertook the duty of Neapolitan Finance Minister, which post he continued to hold under Murat. In 1810 he was appointed administrator to the Grand Duchy of Berg. When the Bourbons returned, he quitted political life and retired to his country seat, the Château of Bois Roussel, devoting himself until 1830 to literary pursuits.

After the accession of Louis Philippe he was again summoned to the Chamber of Peers, and, notwithstanding his advanced age, took a considerable part in debate, publishing a pamphlet, Lettre aux Constitutionnels, which caused a violent excitement all over Paris. In it he attacked the doctrine that “The King reigns, but does not govern.”

Roederer died from an accident at the age of eighty-one, when still in the enjoyment of good health and spirits.

DE SADE, Marquis Alphonse François.

Born in Paris 1740; died in the madhouse at Charenton, 1814.

De Sade, a man of noble family and high position, being Lieutenant-General of Bresse and Valroney, appears at the age of twenty-six to have been seized with a form of insanity which only showed itself in the use of obscene language, writings, and deeds.

He was arrested at Marseilles in 1772 for a terrible offence against public morality, and from that time, under a lettre de cachet, was imprisoned in various fortresses, amongst others Vincennes and the Bastille. During this imprisonment he wrote those notoriously obscene books which have rendered his name infamously famous. He was liberated in 1790 by the decree which released all prisoners imprisoned under lettres de cachet.

His wife obtained a separation from him, and for the next ten years he continued to publish books and plays of the most appalling immorality. When Bonaparte returned from Egypt, De Sade sent him copies of his two novels, “Juliette” and “Justine,” illustrated by himself, and with a dedication to the First Consul. Napoleon, filled with disgust, had the books burned, and De Sade arrested as a dangerous lunatic, and incarcerated in the madhouse at Charenton, where he died fourteen years later.

Those who visited him there describe him as a venerable looking old man, with beautiful features and abundant snow-white hair, exquisite manners and an amiable expression; but as soon as he opened his mouth, every word he spoke was either indecent or profane.

SANTERRE, Antoine Joseph, General.

Born, 1752, in Paris; died in 1809.

Son of a Flemish brewer who had established himself in the Faubourg St. Antoine, he continued to follow his father’s trade. He was rich, and had an excellent reputation among the working classes for the generosity and kindness he showed his employées. Santerre was one of those electors of Paris who met on July 14, 1789, at the Hôtel de Ville; he commanded the National Guard of his district, and for the next three years the brewery and beerhouse of Santerre were a rendezvous for all the agitators of the Faubourg, indeed it was here that the attack upon the Tuileries of June 20, 1792, was agreed upon.

Upon that day Santerre marched at the head of the crowd which invaded the National Assembly, and standing at the foot of the tribune he directed the march of the people through the Chamber. After thanking the Deputies for the marks of friendship they had shown to the inhabitants of the Faubourg St. Antoine, he presented them with a flag, and then went out to join his men upon the Place Carousel, from whence he led them to the Tuileries. He also took a prominent part in the second attack upon August 10, and the Commune afterwards created him commander-in-chief of the National Guard of Paris, a command originally held by the Marquis of Lafayette (!) in which capacity he conducted Louis XVI. and his family to the Temple. On January 21, 1793, he was in command of the troops who surrounded the scaffold, and it was at his signal that the drums were beaten to drown the dying speech of King Louis.

In April of the same year, Santerre obtained a release from the debt of 40,500 francs which he owed to the State for taxes he should have paid upon malt and beer, the reason for the remission of this debt being “that the beer in question had all been consumed by patriots.”

Santerre, who was raised to the rank of a general of division, in July 1793, expressed a desire to show his prowess in the field, and asking for employment in the army, was sent to fight the Royalists in La Vendée. He met with nothing but disaster, owing to his complete ignorance of military tactics, and after being defeated at Corow on September 3, was recalled to Paris. Shortly afterwards he was arrested, and remained in prison until the death of Robespierre.

In July 1794, he was deprived of his rank as general and returned to private life; but his business had perished, and he was entirely ruined. He addressed petitions to various authorities, and finally, in January 1800, appealed to the First Consul for employment in the army or “any post by which I can live.”

Bonaparte did not employ him, but he placed his name on the list of retired generals, by which means Santerre enjoyed a pension for the rest of his life. Santerre has been quoted as a monster of ferocity, no doubt owing to the part he played on January 21, 1793: but he was in reality neither brutal nor cruel, and constantly sought to calm the ardour of his partisans, and saved the lives of persons whose opinions were opposed to his own. He was, however, a man without either capacity or originality, whom the irony of fate placed for a short time in a prominent and powerful situation.

SIEYÈS, Emmanuel Joseph, Comte de.

Born, 1748 at Fréjus; died in Paris, 1836.

Being the youngest of seven children his father insisted upon his embarking in an ecclesiastical career. Sieyès remained for ten years at the seminary of Saint Sulpice in Paris, until he had, at the age of twenty-four, received priest’s orders. While at college he devoted himself to the study of metaphysics, Locke being his favourite author.

He was made Canon of Trégnier in Brittany in 1775, and in 1780 transferred to a Canonry at Chârtres, united to the posts of Vicar-General and Chancellor.

The revolutionary period approached, and Provincial Assemblies were called together, Sieyès being a member of the Assembly at Orleans in 1787. He published a succession of pamphlets in the course of the next two years, which added greatly to his literary and political reputation.

The electors of Paris sent him as the twentieth member for their town to the States-General, where he represented the Tiers d’État and not the clergy. He took a prominent part as soon as he entered this assembly; it was he who promoted the meeting of the Orders, framed the oath administered in the Tennis Court; and the division of France into Departments was entirely his work. His influence in the Assembly was so great that Mirabeau gave him the nickname of “Mahomet.” In February 1791 he was offered the Constitutional Bishopric of Paris, which he refused. He was elected member of the Convention in 1792, and appointed to the leadership of the Committee D’Instruction Publique. Sieyès was too prudent and, possibly, too humane to take any prominent part in that noisy and ill-regulated assembly; but at the trial of Louis XVI. he voted for death, without adding a single word beyond recording his vote; indeed, with the exception of the occasion when he publicly abjured his religious faith and declared he had ceased to be a priest, Sieyès never made a speech in the Convention, though he recorded his vote in favour of every revolutionary measure.

He was asked, in later life, what he had done during the Terror. He replied significantly, “I lived.”

In 1795 he went to Holland, and while in that country was offered a place in the Directorate, which he refused, but the coup d’état of Vendemaire brought him out of his retreat, and he was named President of the Five Hundred (November 25, 1797).

The following year he went as Ambassador to Berlin, and on May 16, 1799, he returned to Paris and replaced Rewbell in the Directorate. On June 19 he undertook the Presidency of the disorganised Government, his object being to make an end of Republicanism, and he joined forces with Bonaparte.

During the Revolution of 18th Brumaire, Sieyès showed great ability and coolness, and Napoleon appointed him one of the three provisionary Consuls. He was soon succeeded by le Brun, after which his active political life may be said to have concluded, for Bonaparte, supported by the army, easily effaced his rival. The constitution planned by Sieyès was not even discussed, and Napoleon entirely destroyed his public influence by creating him a Senator, and bestowing upon him as a national gift the fine estate and château of Crosne.

In later years Sieyès was given the Presidency of the Senate, the grand cross of the legion of honour, and created a Count. After the second restoration the law of 1816 exiled him as a regicide, and he retired to Brussels until 1830, dying at Paris six years later, aged eighty-eight.

SICARD, Roch Ambroise, Abbé.

Born, 1742; died, 1822. Ordained priest at Toulouse and joined the Congregation de la Doctrine Chrétienne.

In 1784, the Archbishop of Bordeaux, who intended to open an asylum and school for the deaf and dumb in his cathedral town, sent the Abbé Sicard to Paris, that he might study the method of instructing deaf mutes invented by the Abbé l’Epée. He returned to Bordeaux two years later, and the school was immediately opened, the Abbé Sicard proving extraordinarily successful, many of his pupils making rapid and even astonishing progress. The Abbé l’Epée died in 1789, and Sicard was appointed to succeed him in Paris.

Sicard adopted the principles of the Revolution, and although he did not take the civil or constitutional clerical oath, he took that of fidelity to liberty, equality and fraternity. On August 26, 1792, he was arrested as a suspect; his pupils addressed a touching petition to the Assembly in favour of their master, but it was disregarded, and on September 2 he was conveyed with other priests to the Abbaye. Nearly all of his companions were slaughtered as soon as they reached the prison, but Sicard’s life was saved by a watchmaker, Mounet. Sicard remained for some time in prison expecting immediate death, but was eventually liberated and returned to his Institution.

When the “Institute” was created in 1795, he was one of its first members, but writing some offensive articles in a publication entitled Les Annales Réligieuses, he was arrested and condemned to transportation; he escaped this fate, but was not replaced in his functions at the deaf and dumb asylum until after the 18th Brumaire, 1799. He found an ardent protector in Choptal, the Minister of the Interior, who caused a printing press to be erected, at the Abbé’s request, at the Institution.

For some unknown reason Napoleon always detested the Abbé Sicard, and refused to ratify his appointment as Canon at Nôtre Dame; nor would he give him the legion of honour; but he was more fortunate under the Restoration, when he received the coveted decoration, a canonry, and other honourable and well-paid appointments.

Abbé Sicard wrote a number of books on the deaf and dumb, and even some for their use.

SAINT FARGEON, Louis Michel le Pelletier, De.

Born, 1760; assassinated, 1793.

He was the great grandson of the celebrated Comte de Saint Fargeon, Minister of Finance from 1726 to 1730; at the outbreak of the Revolution he possessed an annual income of 600,000 francs (£24,000). He was chosen as one of the ten Deputies to represent the nobility of Paris in the States-General; of these only two, the Count de Mirepoix and himself, joined the Tiers État, and from that time they became the most democratic among the Deputies. Saint Fargeon said, “If one has 600,000 francs a year one must either be at Coblentz or join the Jacobins.”

In January 1790, as Member for Criminal Jurisprudence, he first proposed the abolition of the death penalty, the galleys, and branding or flogging, and in June the same year he succeeded in passing a decree replacing hanging by decapitation. In the same month he proposed a motion, which was adopted, abolishing all titles, and took the name of le Pelletier instead of Fargeon.

At the trial of Louis XVI. he declared his intention of voting against the death penalty; but when the time came he pronounced in favour of immediate execution, saying:

If we decide the fate of Louis Capet in a way which is contrary to the conscience and intimate feelings of the French people, would it be against the prisoner in the Temple that the people would have a right to execute their vengeance? No, for in his case treason is unarmed and vanquished. It would be against her unfaithful representatives that the nation would have a right to rise, because in such a case they would find treason and power united.

This speech persuaded a number of Deputies who were wavering to vote for the death penalty, and thus decided a majority in its favour.

A former soldier of the King’s body guard swore to revenge the death of Louis XVI. upon one of his judges. Le Pelletier, de Saint Fargeon, like the Duke of Orleans and many other persons of high rank, voted the death penalty in order to save his own life and fortune, and for this very reason he excited the bitterest hatred among the Royalists. On the evening of the King’s trial he went to dine at Feorier’s, the restaurant in the Palais Royale, and was pointed out to the soldier in question as he was sitting at table. The young man, wrapped in a cloak under which he concealed a sword, came forward and said; “Is it thou, infamous le Pelletier, who has just voted for the death of thy King?” Le Pelletier answered: “Yes, but I am not infamous, I voted according ‘to my conscience.’” The soldier, whose name was Paris, replied: “Here is thy recompense,” and drawing the sword, thrust Saint Fargeon through the body; he fell mortally wounded and was carried to his hôtel, where he expired. The Convention buried him in the Pantheon, and his daughter, aged eight, was formally adopted by the Republic.

The soldier Paris escaped at the time, but when about to be arrested a few days later, he blew out his brains.

SHEARES, John.

Born, 1766; executed, 1798.

This young Irish patriot, who is described by Yorke as having been the fervent admirer of and even suitor for the hand of Théroigne de Mirecourt, was the fourth son of Henry Sheares, of Whiterock (who was a connection of the then Earl of Shannon). This gentleman was a member of the Irish Parliament from 1761 to 1767, and was eventually appointed to a well-paid Governmental sinecure office. When his father died, John Sheares, a student in Trinity College, Dublin, inherited £3000. He was called to the Irish Bar in 1790.

In 1792 he and his brother Henry visited France and he became a convert to the views of the most revolutionary party in that country. He was a member of the Convention, voted for the death of Louis XVI., and was present at his execution. He was obliged to fly from France, as his views were considered too moderate by the leaders of the Jacobin Club. He returned to Dublin and there led a retired and literary life, following at the same time his profession as a barrister, when unfortunately for himself he began to take a leading part in Irish politics.

When the “Press,” an anti-Governmental organ, was started by Arthur O’Connor in 1797, Sheares wrote several leading articles for it; and one of these, a violent attack upon Lord Clare, caused the total suppression of that newspaper in March 1798.

The hostility of Lord Clare having stopped him in the practice of his profession, Sheares and his brother Henry decided to emigrate to America. But they not only did not do so but joined in a plot to disaffect the militia in King’s County against the Government. A certain Captain Armstrong of that regiment made their acquaintance, and after having gained their confidence, informed against them, and they were both arrested May 21, 1798, and confined in Kilmainham Gaol. They were tried for high treason six weeks later. John Sheares, knowing that his own fate was sealed, only desired and hoped to save his brother Henry, his senior by thirteen years, a married man with six children, and whom he declared had acted entirely under his (John Sheares’) guidance.

The only witness against the brothers was Armstrong. The trial lasted for sixteen consecutive hours—an adjournment was moved for by the prisoner’s counsel, as every one connected with the affair was sinking from exhaustion, but the motion was opposed by the Attorney-General—and at eight o’clock in the morning, after a summing up lasting only a few minutes, a hurried verdict of guilty against the prisoners was returned by the wearied and worn out jury. Henry Sheares fainted in court upon hearing the sentence of death pronounced. After their condemnation no friends or relatives were allowed an interview with the brothers, who were hanged the following morning before the prison gates. After remaining for some time on the gallows their heads were struck off; but their bodies were not quartered (July 14, 1798).

ST. JUST, Louis Antoine de Saint Just.

Born August 25, 1767; guillotined, July 28 (10th Thermidor), 1794, in Paris.

His father, a retired army captain, died in 1777, and St. Just was placed in the Oratorian school of Soissons, where he remained for seven years. On leaving school he studied law for a short time at Rheims, but finally decided to embrace a literary career. Having written a volume of poems, he proceeded to Paris, to arrange about their publication, towards the close of the year 1789, and he there became an enthusiastic revolutionary, giving up literature for politics. His youthful ardour and natural eloquence were assisted by an extraordinary beauty of form and feature, grave and serious manners, and a haughty and resolute demeanour. His private life was that of an ascetic until the termination of his short but chequered career.

The inhabitants of his native town, Decize (Minervais) elected him lieutenant-colonel of their newly formed National Guard, and he conducted a detachment of that regiment to Paris in 1790 to join in the Feast of Federation. His youth prevented his election to the Legislative Assembly until September 1792, when he attained the age of twenty-five.

From that time he took a most active part in the Government, and became the intimate (perhaps the only intimate) friend of Robespierre.

On November 12, when the question of the King’s trial came before the Convention, St. Just’s diatribe was by far the most violent of the many violent and fanatical speeches made on that occasion. On December 16 he proposed the exile of all the Bourbons. At the trial of Louis XVI. he voted for the immediate execution of the King.

In the meantime the Republic was attacked on all sides, from both without and within, for, of the eighty-four Departments, sixty-five were known to be secretly hostile to the Revolution, and to desire the restoration of the ancien régime. On April 24, 1793, St. Just presented to the Convention the following scheme:

The Republic, one and indivisible, was to be represented by a Legislative Assembly, elected every two years by universal suffrage and by a Council elected every three years by the electors of the second degree. This Council, composed of a member for each Department, could only act by the authority of the Assembly, and the Ministers whom it was to appoint were to have no personal or individual power. Any conflict between the Council and the Assembly should be settled by an appeal to the people.

This impossible and impracticable project gives an excellent example of the exaggerated humanitarianism which at that time pervaded the opinions of the young legislator. The Girondins were, in the opinion of St. Just, a danger to the Republic. Their dreams of a federation by which France would be governed in the same way as the United States, and Paris cease to be the head and centre of government, filled him with apprehension. When the Girondins fell St. Just took an important part in their impeachment; his report on the matter was received with applause, and in July he became one of the leading members of the Committee of Public Safety.

From this moment a coalition was formed between Robespierre, Couthon, Le Bas, and St. Just, which continued until they all perished twelve months later. They banded themselves together with a settled purpose, and pitilessly destroyed any and every individual who opposed their views. St. Just was the principal instrument of Robespierre; he read, on October 10, the report upon the organisation of a revolutionary government until a general peace should be declared. “In the present circumstances,” he said, “no Constitution can be established; for it would be an attack upon liberty; with a Constitution the Government could not use sufficient violence against the enemies of the Republic.” He then proposed a decree, which was unanimously adopted by which the Ministers, the Generals, the Admirals, the Executive Council, and all constitutional bodies were to be placed under the immediate supervision of the Committee of Public Safety.

On October 16, the very day of the execution of the Queen, St. Just presented a report by which all foreigners residing in Paris, and particularly the English, were to be arrested. He referred to the death of Marie Antoinette in these words: “Your Committee has punished Austria by bringing a scaffold and the infamy of a public execution into the reigning family of that country.”

A few days later St. Just was despatched to Alsace as a superintendent of military operations; le Bas accompanied him. Arrived at Strasburg, they immediately established a commission to punish summarily “crimes, disorders, and abuses.” No legal forms were observed: a colonel accused of having spoken against the Republic was shot upon the spot; an officer accused of striking one of his men was degraded to the ranks; General Eisenberg, who had been defeated by the Austrians, was executed without a trial. The soldiers were in want of boots. St. Just wrote to the Strasburg municipality: “Ten thousand men in the army are bare-footed; strip the boots and shoes from the feet of the aristocrats of Strasburg. To-morrow, before 10 o’clock, 10,000 pairs of boots must be on their way to the military headquarters.” An immense number of persons were arrested and imprisoned, and innumerable executions took place. The commissioners left Strasburg and joined the army beyond the Rhine, where the generals were treated in the same high-handed manner. On the 12th Frimaire (November 9) St. Just wrote to General Hoche: “Thou hast taken at Kaiserslautern (where he had won a great battle) a further engagement; for instead of one victory, we require TWO.”

After remaining two months with the army St. Just returned to Paris in January 1794. He only remained a couple of weeks in the metropolis, departing for Flanders to supervise the conduct of those military chiefs who commanded in the north. In a few days he had inspected the various posts on the frontier, and, after carrying out his usual policy, he gave the supreme command to Pichegru, and returned to Paris. On February 19 St. Just was elected President of the Convention.

In March the fall of Hébert was followed by that of Danton. The impeachment of the latter was carried out by St. Just, his speech being composed from notes made by Robespierre. He accused Danton of having served the “Tyrant,” of being the protégé of Mirabeau, the friend of Lameth, the accomplice of Dumouriez, and of having defended the Girondins.

Danton’s execution, and those of his immediate allies, delivered Robespierre and St. Just from the enemies they feared, and they flattered themselves they could now carry out their plans without interruption.

On April 29 St. Just returned to the army, Robespierre remaining the head and centre of all government in Paris. This was the most sanguinary period of the Terror.

St. Just remained with the army in Flanders until June 27, when, Charleroi having fallen and the army of the Republic being everywhere victorious in Belgium, he returned in triumph to Paris. The conspiracy which was to break out on July 27 (9th Thermidor) was already in process of formation, but St. Just suspected nothing, and continued to attend the meetings of the Committee of Public Safety and to make many violent speeches. He attacked Fouché, Tallien, and other members without mercy, and on the very morning of 9th Thermidor was speaking in the Tribune, when he was interrupted by Tallien, and the well-known violent scenes which resulted in the arrest of Robespierre and his immediate friends took place.

St. Just, unlike Couthon, le Bas, and Robespierre, did not attempt suicide; he followed the mutilated bodies of his friends on foot, with his hands bound behind him, from the Hôtel de Ville to the Conciergerie. The next day he mounted the scaffold and died silently and courageously. He was not quite twenty-seven years of age.

TALLEYRAND, Perigard, Prince de Benevento, Charles Maurice de.

Born, 1754; died, 1838.

To give a description of the life and work of this statesman would far exceed the limits of this biographical supplement; but the following few facts may interest the reader.

The eldest son of the Comte de Talleyrand, as he was lame and slightly deformed he could not enter the army, he was therefore compelled by his parents to take holy orders; he had no vocation whatever for the priesthood. He received valuable ecclesiastical preferment, and in 1778 was ordained Bishop of Autun. He joined the revolutionary party, and was a member of the National Assembly.

On July 14, 1790, it was he who celebrated the Mass of the Federation in the Champs de Mars, and in December of the same year he took the constitutional oath. He ordained several of the constitutional bishops, and was in consequence excommunicated by the Holy See, who declared all constitutional priests and bishops schismatics.

He was sent to England in February 1792 as an envoy by the French Government, with the idea of reconciling the British Sovereign and his Ministers to the revolutionary changes being then carried out in France. He did not, however, inspire any confidence in either George III. or Pitt, with whom he had several interviews. He returned privately to London in December 1792, and three months later was accused of conspiring against the Republic. He continued to remain in England until the death of Louis XVI., when, finding his position intolerable, owing to the indignation the death of the King excited against all supposed revolutionaries, he departed to America, where he remained until his sentence of banishment from France was revoked in 1795. He did not arrive in France till the following year; he was accompanied by the then notorious Mdme. Grand, with whom he cohabited for a considerable time before he married her. She was the divorced wife of a merchant at Calcutta, and had created a considerable scandal in India owing to her intrigue with Sir Philip Francis, the enemy of Warren Hastings, and reputed author of the Junius Letters. Talleyrand reached Paris, March 1796.

In 1797, by the influence of Barras, and notwithstanding the opposition of Carnot (who was probably the only sincere and disinterested member of the Directorate), Talleyrand was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs. He took a considerable part in the coup d’état of 18th Fructidor (September 4, 1797), by which the Directorate re-established, in the name of liberty, most of the tyrannical excesses of the Convention. He had already discovered the extraordinary genius of Bonaparte, and from that time until the fall of the Empire was more or less attached to the fortunes of the then youthful hero.

It was Talleyrand who drew up the treaty of Campo-Formio (October 17, 1794), which Talleyrand and Bonaparte concluded in direct opposition to the desires of the Directorate. Talleyrand first suggested to Bonaparte the idea of an expedition to Egypt, in lieu of that invasion of England which was then the favourite scheme of the French Government.

Bonaparte endeavoured to persuade Talleyrand to accompany him to Egypt; but this he refused, and remained in Paris during the Egyptian and Syrian campaigns, carrying out unchecked his ingenious and tortuous foreign policy. He it was who brought about the occupation of the Papal States by the French, and the imprisonment and capture of the Pope (see Pius VI.), and he also caused the destruction of the Swiss Republic, on the ground that its government was not sufficiently democratic. By diplomatic ruses and threatened violence he extorted an act of abdication from Charles Emmanuel, King of Sardinia, December 9, 1798.

During this time Talleyrand was obtaining in various ways large sums of money for his own private use, more particularly from the Kings of Spain and Portugal, who by lavish bribes to the French Minister of Foreign Affairs hoped to prevent the invasion of their kingdoms.

These circumstances, coupled with the fact that the French army met with defeat after defeat, and, since the departure of Bonaparte, lost all hold over Northern Italy, brought about a violent movement against Talleyrand, who resigned his office as Minister of Foreign Affairs in July 1799.

The return of Napoleon changed the situation, and on November 22 Talleyrand once more occupied his old post, which he held until 1807, when, a month after the treaty of Tilsit, he gave up the seals of this office to Champagny, Duke de Cadore. He was promoted to the dignity of a Prince Electeur of the Empire; he had been created Prince of Benevento, with a fief granted from the Papal States in the previous year.

He continued to hold the key of office as Lord High Chamberlain until 1809, but his intimate relations with the Emperor ceased from the time he abandoned the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His astute nature had already foreseen the inevitable fall of the Empire, and he secretly used every effort to hasten this catastrophe. He continued to act, nevertheless, as Napoleon’s emissary with foreign Powers; gave up his château at Valençay as a State prison for the Spanish Princes; was present at the interview between Napoleon and Alexander at Erfurt, and in an audience with the Russian Emperor, explained to that sovereign Napoleon’s project for a divorce, and asked him, in his master’s name, for the hand of the Grand Duchess Catherine Paulovna, sister to the Czar.

In 1813, when the troubles of the Empire had reached their zenith, Talleyrand was summoned to St. Cloud, and offered the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. He consented to take it on condition peace should immediately be concluded. His advice was not accepted.

During the winter of 1814 he was in secret communication with the Bourbons; had much to do with the conclusion of peace in the April of that year, and entered as Foreign Minister into the first Cabinet of Louis XVIII. May 12, 1814, he represented France at the Council of Vienna.

On the return of Napoleon, Talleyrand during “the Hundred Days” absolutely refused to listen to any offer from the Emperor. After the Second Restoration he took up his old office in the Cabinet, but his opposition to the return of the artistic treasures with which the Republic and the Empire had enriched the Museums of Paris, and his efforts to prevent any cession of French territory, diminished his credit with the Czar and the English commander-in-chief, who were at that time the rulers of France. By their influence he was compelled to leave the Cabinet, Louis XVIII. creating him the same day Lord Chamberlain with a salary of 100,000 francs (£4000).

During the whole of the Restoration, Talleyrand was excluded from taking any leading part in public affairs.

After the Revolution of 1830, to which he had contributed not a little, Talleyrand, who had had for a considerable period a private understanding with Louis Philippe, became his principal political auxiliary.

In September 1830, Prince Talleyrand was sent as Ambassador from the King of the French to the Court of St. James’. He remained in London in that capacity for four years, and notwithstanding his great age showed himself an astute and admirable diplomatist. He received a warm welcome in all the higher circles of English society.

In November 1834 he retired from political life; but his mind was still fresh and vigorous, and his life during the next four years was occupied by social amenities and intellectual pursuits. On March 3, 1838, having entered his eighty-fifth year, he gave an address to the Academy of Science upon the death of the Comte Reinhard, a celebrated diplomatist.

A few weeks later he was suddenly attacked by a painful internal malady, and died on May 17, aged eighty-four years and three months. Before his death he received the Sacraments, signing a letter in which he regretted his abjurations and sins against religion; this letter was despatched to Pope Gregory XVI.

TALLIEN, Jean Lambart.

Born in 1769; died in 1820.

The son of the house steward of the Marquis de Bercy. He received, through the kindness of this nobleman, a good education, and became a notary’s clerk.

At the outbreak of the Revolution he gave up this employment for journalism, publishing for five months under the title of L’Ami des Citoyens, a newspaper which was a worthy companion to the Ami du Peuple of Marat. His newspaper was financed by the Jacobin Club.

He took a prominent part in the events of August 10, and in the massacres in the prisons on September 2. Elected member of the Convention, he defended Marat and denounced General Montesquieu and Roland (then Minister). His speeches against Louis XVI. and the Royal family were so violent and so frequent as actually to evoke a vote of censure from the Convention. At the King’s trial he voted, “For instant death in the interests of humanity.”

It was upon his proposal five months later that the Girondins were put hors de la loi; and in September 1793, Tallien departed with Ysabeau for Bordeaux, “to utterly extirpate any remains of that hydra Girondism.”

Here he instituted a reign of terror. He added tortures to executions, and, under the name of “requisitions,” made, as he said, war upon the commercial aristocracy, by plundering all the wealthy merchants of the town. To the mean cruelties of the worst form of Roman pro-consul he added in his private life the luxury and pomp of a Persian satrap.

He met Mdme. Fontenay and fell desperately in love with her. He saved her from prison and brought her back with him to Paris. He was in consequence ill received by the Committee of Public Safety, who immediately imprisoned the woman he loved, on the accusation of being an aristocrat.

To avert suspicion, Tallien affected an even more vehement and sanguinary patriotism than he had previously shown, and on March 22, 1794, was elected President of the Convention. Robespierre denounced him to the Convention on June 12. He also erased the name of Tallien from the Jacobin Society; this was tantamount to a sentence of death.

Tallien determined to strike first, and to save not only his own life, but that of his mistress; he therefore joined those who feared and hated the triumvirate of Robespierre, St. Just, and le Bas, and who wished to avenge Danton and save their own lives. Tallien became the leader of the party who six weeks later overthrew Robespierre.

After this he occupied for a short time the place that the death of Maximilien Robespierre had left unoccupied. He married the woman he loved, closed the Club of the Jacobins, and put upon their trial le Bon, Fouquier-Tinville and other agents of terrorism. He retained predominant power in the State until July 1795, when he visited the army on the western frontier on a mission to General Hoche. Here he was once more guilty of summary executions and caused much unnecessary bloodshed.

The advent of the Directorate in October of the same year practically finished his active political career. He was accused of venality and treason, and though he became a member of the Five Hundred, his speeches were received with indifference or insult.

In May 1798 he left that assembly, and here his public life may be said to have terminated.

He accompanied the expedition of Bonaparte to Egypt in the capacity of a savant! Bonaparte and he were friends at the time owing to the intimacy of their wives, and he had acted as witness when the general married Madame Beauharnais.

In Egypt Tallien was appointed Administrator of the Interior, and he wrote a work called “Décade Egyptienne.” On his return to Europe a year after the departure of Napoleon, the ship upon which he sailed was taken by an English cruiser and he was carried to London. Here he was enthusiastically received by the Radical party.

After the peace of Amiens he returned to France, but did not find a warm welcome. His wife had been notoriously unfaithful to him during his absence; he divorced her immediately.

After vainly petitioning the First Consul for an appointment he received, by the influence of Talleyrand and Fouché, the unenviable situation of Consul in the unhealthy Spanish seaport of Alicante several months later. Here he remained for some years, nearly dying on one occasion of yellow fever, by which he lost the sight of an eye.

He returned to France, and ended his days living in obscurity on a small pension, and dying in 1820, at the age of fifty-one.

TALLIEN, Comtesse of Caramon, Princesse de Chimay, Theresa Cabarrus.

Born at Saragossa, in Spain, 1773; died at Chimay, in Belgium, 1835.

This beautiful woman was the daughter of the Count of Cabarrus, Spanish Minister of Finance. At the age of sixteen she married M. Devin de Fontenoy, Counsellor to the Parliament of Bordeaux. Her married life was unhappy; and when the Republic instituted divorce, she obtained one from her husband. After this she led a life of absolute freedom, joined the revolutionary party, and became a conspicuous feature in their meetings at Bordeaux. For some reason, now unknown, she was imprisoned. Tallien, on his mission to Bordeaux as Commissionary of the Republic, heard her beauty praised, visited her in her cell, fell madly in love with her, and carried her back with him to Paris; there she was arrested and again imprisoned. After her release and marriage to Tallien, she became one of the most brilliant leaders of the corrupt and immoral society of the Directorate. Her conduct, during the absence of her husband in Egypt, passed all bounds of decency, and she gave birth to two children, whom Tallien refused to acknowledge. He divorced her in 1802.

In 1805 she married M. de Caramon, who became Prince de Chimay, by whom she had a family of two sons and two daughters.

Although she had been the companion in prison of Josephine Beauharnais, and both Tallien and herself intimate friends of the Bonapartes in the early days of their married life, Napoleon would never allow his wife to receive her publicly at the Tuileries, either as Mdme. Tallien or the Princess de Chimay.

TREILHARD, Jean Baptiste, Comte de.

Born at Brives, January 3, 1742; died in Paris, 1810.

He began life as a lawyer, being a prominent notary at Limoges. The whole aristocracy and higher clergy in the town put their business affairs into his hands. In 1789 he was sent to Paris as a member of the Tiers État. His opinions were moderate at first, but soon became intensely democratic. It was he who undertook the business of reporting on Church property, and he presided over the Ecclesiastical Committee in the Assembly. He proposed and passed a decree which suppressed all religious orders, and made the property of the Church national. In 1791 he proposed that Voltaire should receive the honours of the Panthéon, adding “that Voltaire was perhaps the man amongst the dead who most deserved the honours accorded to great patriots.” During the session of 1792, Treilhard presided over the criminal tribune of the departments of Paris. He decreed that Louis XVI. was guilty of conspiracy against public liberty, and against the security of the State. At the King’s trial he voted for his death, but with a respite and appeal to the people. He was sent to Bordeaux to suppress the rising of the Girondins, but recalled under the accusation of showing too much moderation, and was replaced by Tallien.

He was Minister of Justice under the Directorate. Later he underwent much persecution, owing to the intrigues of Sieyès, who was his enemy. Napoleon appointed him President (or Judge) of the High Court of Appeal, and he held this appointment till 1808, when he became President of the Council of State until his death, two years later, at the age of sixty-eight.

TURENNE, Henri de la Tour d’Auvergne, Vicomte de.

Born at Sedan, September 11, 1611; killed at Salzbach, July 27, 1675.

The second son of Henri, Duc de Bouillon, and Elizabeth, daughter of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, and granddaughter of Admiral Coligny. He was educated in his mother’s religion, Calvinism. At the age of fifteen (1626), he went to study military science and the art of war under his uncles, the Princes Maurice and Henry of Nassau. In 1630 he arrived in France, and Richelieu gave him the colonelcy of a regiment. For the next eight years he was incessantly engaged in active service, and distinguished himself as a commander, both on the Rhine and in Flanders. Richelieu, who had the highest opinion of his military capacity, wished to attach him to his interests, and offered him the hand of one of his nieces who had a large dowry. Turenne took advantage of the difference of religion as a pretext for refusing this alliance.

In 1639 Turenne served in Italy, and saved the army of the Prince de Carignan by the celebrated battle of the “Route de Quiers.” His courage and tenacity of purpose brought about the capture of Turin. The Duke de Bouillon, his elder brother, was implicated in the plot of Cinq Mars and arrested. Turenne used his influence over the Cardinal to obtain his brother’s release. The Duke left France, abjured Calvinism, and became commander-in-chief of the Papal army. At the commencement of the Regency of Anne of Austria, Turenne was commanding the French army in Italy; but Richelieu, fearing that he and his elder brother might become allies against him, despatched Turenne to Germany, with orders to collect and reform the dispersed and broken mercenary Westphalian troops, then in the pay of France. In this he was successful. From 1644 to 1648 he continued the German campaign, until the conclusion of the Treaty of Westphalia (October 24, 1648), which terminated the Thirty Years War. At this time the troubles of the Fronde, which had been long simmering, blazed out. The Duke de Bouillon, Turenne’s brother, was one of the principal leaders of the movement. The Queen, Condé, and the Cardinal used every effort to prevent Turenne following his brother’s example. Mazarin offered him one of his nieces in marriage and the Governorship of Alsace. Turenne brought his troops back to France, and then attempted to lead them against the Minister; but the men, having been bribed by Cardinal Mazarin, refused to obey their general, who was compelled to take refuge in Holland. A month later he returned to Paris. When the Princes were arrested (January 18, 1650), Mazarin again offered him his protection, and the command of the army in Flanders. By this time the seductive graces of the Duchess de Longueville had completely captivated Turenne, and he left Paris for Stenay, a fortified town near Sedan, in the principality of the Duke de Bouillon. Here he was joined by the Duchess. Under her influence he signed a treaty with the Spaniards, by which he agreed to fight with them against France until the imprisoned Princes should be released. He joined the Archduke Leopold, marched through Picardy, took several towns, and pushed on until he and his army were within a few hours of Vincennes, where the Princes had been confined; but hearing they had been transferred to the Castle of Marcoussis, near Rambouillet, he recrossed the River Aisne and directed his march in that direction; he encountered the whole Royal army, 19,000 strong, and though enormously outnumbered, was forced to fight in a valley near Sompuis. He was totally defeated. He then retired from the civil war, and returned to the Archduke the 100,000 crowns which the latter had given him to continue the campaign. The Princes were shortly afterwards released, Mazarin exiled, and the Duc de Bouillon’s just claims, which he had been making unavailingly for eight years, fully satisfied. Turenne then returned to France, and married, in 1651, Charlotte de Caumont, daughter of the Maréchal Armand de la Force. The bridegroom was forty and the bride thirty, but their attachment had lasted many years, and it was for her sake Turenne had already refused many brilliant alliances.

Turenne was greatly opposed to the second rebellion of Condé, who up to that time had been his intimate friend. He conducted the campaign against the army of the Fronde during the critical year of 1652, defeated the rebellious Princes, and was able to bring back the King to Paris on October 21. Condé and his allies, the Spaniards, were eventually absolutely vanquished and driven from France, but the war lasted for nearly seven years, and it was not until November 1659, that a peace, glorious for France, was concluded by the Treaty of the Pyrenees.

From this time forth Turenne was one of those few men in whom Louis XIV. had absolute confidence, and he consulted him on all matters of foreign policy. Turenne took a very considerable part in the restoration of Charles II. In 1667 a fresh war with Spain was imminent, the King of France informed Turenne that it was his intention to march at the head of the army, and learn from his commander-in-chief the art of war.

At this time Turenne abjured Calvinism and joined the Catholic Church. There is every reason to believe his change of religion was sincere and not dictated by political motives. He had for two years been anxious to become a Catholic, and made a serious study of religious questions under the guidance of Bossuet; and in 1668 he was privately re-baptised by the Archbishop of Paris.

Turenne in 1672 took supreme command on the occasion of the war with Holland; the King acting as a figure-head. The campaign was long, arduous and only partially successful.

The year 1674 was the apogee of the military career of Turenne. At a moment when several armies were gathered together ready to invade France, he determined, notwithstanding the inferiority of his forces, to divide his enemies and attack them separately. He marched down the left bank of the Rhine, and, meeting the Imperialists, defeated them at Sinzheim upon June 16. He then passed the river, and defeated another body of the enemy’s troops at Ladenburg. The allies, having reorganised their army, invaded Alsace and established there their winter quarters. Turenne brought his troops by the Vosges mountains, entered Alsace, and attacking the Imperialists (who were taken entirely by surprise, not expecting an army would venture to move in the winter), defeated them first at Mulhouse (December 29) and at Turckheim on January 5. Alsace was thus entirely reconquered. Turenne made a triumphant return to Versailles, where Louis XIV. publicly embraced him.

In the following year, 1675, Turenne found himself the adversary of Montecuccoli, the greatest living tactician in Europe. For six weeks the two generals manœuvred and out-manœuvred each other in their respective efforts to cross the Rhine. At length Turenne found a favourable opportunity. The two armies were face to face near the village of Salzbach (July 27), and Turenne was riding round the advance posts, when his lieutenant-general, St. Hilaric, rode up to inform him a column of the enemy was approaching. At this moment a shell struck the party, St. Hilaric lost his left arm, and Turenne was wounded in the side. The marshal never spoke again, but fell dead from his horse.

His death caused universal mourning all over France. General Montecuccoli, on hearing of the death of his rival, said: “A man has died to-day who was an honour to humanity.” Turenne is buried under the same dome as Napoleon—at the Invalides.

VAUBAN, Sebastian le Prestre, Seigneur de.

Military engineer and Marshal of France. Born, May 1, 1633; died, March 30, 1707. His father, the cadet of an ancient family, was styled by himself “the poorest gentleman in France.”

Young Vauban, left a penniless orphan at the age of ten, was adopted and educated by the village priest. At seventeen he enlisted in Condé’s rebel army, being taken prisoner a year later, and brought before Mazarin, who, discovering his natural genius, gave him a commission of lieutenant and put him under the orders of the Chevalier de Clermont, the greatest military engineer of the day.

In 1655 Vauban obtained the brevet of engineer. His reputation grew rapidly. Acting under the orders of Turenne he was of the greatest service at the sieges of Stenay, Clermont, Landrecies, Condé, Valenciennes, and Montmedz, and this notwithstanding the fact that he was several times severely wounded.

In 1658 he directed on his own responsibility the sieges and attacks upon Mardyk, Gravelines, Oudenarde and Ypres. After the Peace of the Pyrenees he employed the succeeding next years of profound peace in constructing new fortresses and modernising old ones. When, in 1667, war broke out again he at once reassumed his old post. In the presence of Louis XIV. he conducted the sieges of Tournai and Douai, and took Lille after only eighteen days’ investiture.

The following year he captured Dôle, and was then desired by Loubois, who was his principal protector, to construct new fortifications at all the recently conquered Flemish towns. He carried out these orders so completely that when the Dutch war occurred five years later the northern frontier of France was defended by a chain of almost impregnable forts. The siege of Maestricht, which fell after an attack lasting only thirteen days, raised his credit to an enormous height.

In 1674 he was created Brigadier of the Royal army, and in 1675 Maréchal de camp. Two years later he succeeded the Chevalier M. Clermont as Commissary-General of the fortifications of France. During the next ten years he surrounded France from north to south with admirably planned and almost impregnable fortresses. He also constructed the aqueduct of Maintenon and the canal of Riquet. Another war taking place in 1688, Vauban conducted the sieges of Phillipsburg, and, after saving Dunkirk and other French towns from the enemy, conquered Mons and Namur in the King’s presence. In 1697 the Peace of Ryswick put an end to his military career, during which he had built or repaired 333 fortresses, conducted 53 sieges, and been present at 140 battles and skirmishes.

After the Peace of Ryswick, Vauban devoted the remaining ten years of his life to the study of political economy; and the result of his labours was the composition of a book, famous in its day and still remembered by economists, called Dîme Royale. This book described the system of political economy Vauban wished to introduce, which was to substitute for all taxes and levies of money from the people a contribution of the tenth part (or less) of the annual value of all lands and money in the hands of private individuals; in fact, a graduated income tax.

He wished to abolish all taxes and Governmental duties on articles of food and upon salt; but he desired to retain duties upon articles of luxury and certain merchandise, such as spirits, tea, coffee and tobacco. This book, which also included a graphic description of the misery and want which the lower classes in France were suffering at the time, appeared in 1707.

St. Simon gives a vivid description of the King’s fury, when he received a copy from Maréchal Vauban. His Majesty had already obtained a pretty good idea of the scope and matter it contained.

A few weeks later the book was seized and confiscated by an Act of Parliament, and its publication stopped. Vauban did not long survive the blow; he died in Paris three weeks after this decree was promulgated. To quote St. Simon:

The King looked now upon Marshal Vauban as a fanatical defender of the people, and a criminal who was attempting an attack upon the authority of the Ministers, and, through them, upon the Crown. The unfortunate Marshal could not survive the loss of the favour of a master to whom he was deeply attached and whom he had served so faithfully; he died soon after, seeing no one and consumed with grief. The King received the news of his death with indifference, and did not even recognise that he had lost one of his most illustrious servants.

The writings of Vauban upon fortifications and military matters are well-known to all experts, and are still the best works that have been written on these subjects.

VISCONTI, Ennio Quirino.

Born in Rome, 1751; died in Paris, 1818.

He was an extraordinarily precocious child, and at the age of thirteen had translated “Hecuba” of Euripides and the “Olympics” of Pindar. He obtained the degree of doctor of law and literature in 1771 (aged twenty), and was then appointed camararis to the Pope and sub-librarian to the Vatican. He steadily refused to take holy orders, notwithstanding personal pressure from the Pope. When he married in 1785, he was dismissed from the Vatican, although he had compiled the whole of the catalogues of the Museo Clementius. Prince Chigi then took him into his service as librarian. During the next ten years he arranged and classified the collections the two Englishmen, Jenkins and Wortley, had made from excavations at Athens and other parts of Greece. He also organised the Borghese Museum.

When the French entered Rome in January 1798, Visconti was appointed by General Berthier Minister of the Interior, and, later, one of the five Consuls who were to govern the Roman Republic; he had only occupied this post seven months, when the intrigues of his enemies compelled his flight to Perugia, his honesty and moderation having excited the hatred of his four fellow Consuls.

The Neapolitans retook Rome in 1799, and Visconti, separated from his wife and family, was exiled, and departed for France. Here he was immediately employed in organising and arranging the Museum of the Louvre, then just founded. He was appointed Professor of Archæology and Member of the Institute. In 1801 appeared his celebrated Livret du Musée. He also made a complete catalogue containing elaborate descriptions of the works of art in the Louvre. By Napoleon’s orders he commenced the des dessins antiques, which was to contain illustrations drawn and engraved by him, comprising portraits of all the illustrious heroes of antiquity. The Academies of Europe vied with one another in asking his advice and judgment upon matters of art. In 1814 he was summoned to London to give his opinion upon the merits or possible demerits of the Elgin marbles, the English Government not being willing to give Lord Elgin the price demanded. Visconti valued them at 800,000 francs (£32,000) and decided that they were all the work of Phidias and his pupils. This sum was paid.

Soon after his return to Paris he was attacked by a painful internal malady, and died, aged sixty-six.

LA VALLÉE, Marquis Joseph de Bois, Robert de.

Born in 1747; died in 1816.

He was captain in a regiment of Champagne before the Revolution. He became an enthusiastic democrat; later, a devoted adherent of Napoleon. During the Empire he was head of the Chancellerie of the Legion of Honour. He lost this appointment, however, under the Restoration, and retired to London, where he died. La Vallée was a voluminous writer, a great linguist, and had a knowledge of ancient art and literature.

VOLTAIRE, François Marie, de.

Born, 1694, at Sceaux; died in Paris, 1778.

He was the son of Maître François Arouet, a lawyer who held a position in the Cour des Comptes in Paris. The birth of Voltaire took place under peculiar circumstances. His mother, who was not immediately expecting her confinement, joined a party one afternoon for a long walk in the environs of Paris. Before she could get home, she was taken suddenly in labour, and her child was prematurely born in a stranger’s house. The infant was so weak, small, and feeble that it could not be taken to church for baptism until nine months after its birth. Young Arouet lost his mother a few years later. His relations with his father were not happy, and his only brother, ten years his senior, was a bigoted Jansenist.

When only ten years of age, François Arouet was placed at the College of Louis le Grand, directed by the Jesuit Fathers. Here he remained for seven years, the favourite of his teachers, who considered him their most brilliant scholar, his amusing sallies and lively wit gained him popularity with his fellow students. At college, Voltaire (who through life assiduously cultivated intimacy with exalted personages) contracted friendships with the sons of noblemen, ministers and magistrates. When he was eleven years of age his godfather, the Abbé Châteauneuf, presented him to Ninon de l’Enclos, then nearly ninety years old, but still mentally and physically attractive. The clever and witty child delighted the aged courtesan, who in her will left him 2000 francs (£80) to buy books. He also met Jean Jacques Rousseau a few years later: the latter embraced him, and predicted a glorious future for the youthful genius.

After he left college, Arouet soon profited by the friendships he had made among his superiors in rank and position, and succeeded in obtaining a footing which he maintained till 1726 in the most exclusive and fashionable society in Paris. He had many adventures, notably a romantic affair when attached to the Legation in Holland. Accused of writing a series of satirical poems against the Government of the Regency, he was sent to the Bastille; but this only increased his fame and added to his notoriety. Released a year later, the Regent granted him a private and friendly interview, settling upon him a pension of 1000 livres (£120) a year. Ever afterwards he wrote in most eulogistic terms of the Regent, and dedicated his Tragedy of Œdipus to the Duchess of Orleans. He continued to write successful plays and to publish books of poetry and prose as well as to move in the highest society until 1726, when a catastrophe occurred which changed the bent of his whole life.

Arouet, who had now assumed the name and style of de Voltaire, was on December 10 of this year dining with one of his chief patrons, the Duke de Sully. Among the guests was a dissolute middle aged man, the Chevalier de Rohan (younger son of the Duke de Rohan). The Chevalier inquired in a loud voice—“Who was the young man who talked so much and gave his unasked-for opinion so freely?” Voltaire answered, “He is a man who cannot boast of an exalted name, but who understands how to keep up the honour of the humble name he does bear.” This sally almost convulsed de Rohan with fury, being a direct allusion to his notoriously evil reputation. Three days later Voltaire was seized on the very steps of the Hôtel du Sully and soundly flogged there and then in the open street by three of the chevalier’s lackeys, De Rohan enjoying the spectacle seated in a coach drawn up hard by. The chevalier’s victim could obtain no redress, his adversary refused to fight him, and when Arouet made further efforts to obtain satisfaction, he was again confined in the Bastille. Upon his release he immediately started for England, his pride forbade his reappearance among his old companions. His host in London was Bolingbroke, who had only just returned to Great Britain after a long exile. Arouet remained three years in England, making an earnest and thorough study of English literature, and becoming intimate with Pope, Addison, and Swift.

In 1729 he went back to Paris and recommenced his literary career. The bold unconventionality of his writings and the freedom of his opinions in religion and politics made the author an object of suspicion to the French Government. His “Letters from England” were suppressed, his Lettres Philosophiques publicly burnt by the common hangman, and their publisher incarcerated in the Bastille; to avoid sharing his fate, Voltaire again fled from France.

His liaison with the beautiful and cultivated Madame du Châtelet commenced about this time. She was about twenty-eight years of age. The Marquis and Marchioness du Châtelet inhabited a château in Lorraine, and there Voltaire principally lived until the death of the Marquis in 1749. He was occasionally absent for considerable periods—at Brussels in 1739, in Paris, 1740.

He had several interviews with Frederick the Great when the latter was Prince of Prussia.

After the Battle of Fontenoy in 1744, an ode he composed upon that victory brought him once more into favour at Versailles, and for two years he enjoyed the immediate patronage of Madame de Pompadour. He could not, however, control his powers of satire, and in 1746 fell into disgrace at Court, from which he never successfully emerged. He then, in company with Madame du Châtelet, joined the literary coterie of the Duchess de Maine at Sçeaux, and afterwards, still accompanied by his fair friend, paid a visit to the Court of the ex-King Stanislaus, father of the Queen of France, at Luneville. Here Madame du Châtelet fell desperately in love with a handsome young officer, thirteen years her junior, the Marquis de St. Lombert. Voltaire accepted the situation with philosophic calm, saying he wished to change his position as lover for that of a sincere and devoted friend. A year later the Marquise died in child-bed, and a grotesque as well as melancholy scene took place; the three men, her husband, the Marquis du Châtelet, Voltaire, and St. Lombert, all weeping in each other’s arms over her body!

Voltaire established himself in Paris: a widowed niece, Mdme. Denis, whom he adopted as his daughter, kept house for him, and remained his companion for the rest of his life. In 1750 Frederick the Great invited the distinguished author to settle at Potsdam as his permanent guest. Voltaire accepted the offer, reaching Berlin in July of the same year. He was received with almost regal honours: a pension of 20,000 livres, the golden key of Great Chamberlain, and the Cross of the Order of Prussia bestowed upon him. All his plays were performed in succession at the theatre of Potsdam. At the King’s private suppers the French poet was privileged to make any remarks he pleased, and not bound to observe any form of Court etiquette. This (to Voltaire) ideal existence lasted two years and six months, during which time he wrote and published at Berlin the Siècle de Louis XIV. Voltaire began to take too great an advantage of the licence accorded to him by the Prussian monarch; he presumed to correct Frederick’s French prose, and to make light of his verses. He quarrelled with the Court banker, Hirsch (the direct ancestor of the late great financier Baron Hirsch), about a doubtful monetary speculation, and a lawsuit took place between them. It seems probable that this affair, which has never been satisfactorily cleared up, contributed far more than a literary dispute to the final rupture between King Frederick and his pet philosopher. Voltaire had always shown great financial ability, and had amassed a large fortune, which he continued to increase during the remainder of his career.

In the early spring of 1753, Voltaire and Frederick parted never to meet again, mutually disgusted with one another. The poet departed with his niece to Weime, on a visit to the Grand Duke and Duchess. Frederick, discovering soon after that Voltaire had taken with him a volume of very obscene, scurrilous, and questionable verse, which the King had had printed for private circulation only, a commission, led by a stupid and hotheaded officer named Freytag, was despatched in pursuit, with orders to take it by force if necessary from the former favourite, together with his golden key, and the Cross of Prussia. Voltaire and Mdme. Denis were accordingly arrested at Frankfort and kept in durance for thirty-six days, during which time they were subjected to every possible form of arrogant insult.

Although Voltaire desired to conciliate the religious party in France, even going so far as to confess and communicate at Easter in Lyons, he could not persuade them to overlook his anti-Christian publications. The appearance in print of the Siècle de Louis XIV., and an abominable skit upon Joan of Arc, called La Pucelle, destroyed the last chance of his ever again being received at Court. He therefore purchased an estate in Switzerland, where he built a charming villa called Les Délices; in 1760 he bought the estate of Ferney, near the Swiss and French frontier, but in French territory. For the next eighteen years he resided there in great state, and was visited by innumerable famous and distinguished personages, from kings and princes to authors and actors. One of his visitors has thus described life at Ferney:

Voltaire is very rich; he is as proud of his wealth as of his literary reputation. He loves to act the part of Seigneur du Village, and to show his guests his houses, gardens, fields, woods, horses (of which he has twelve in his private stable), and his cattle. He dresses with elegance and care; on feast days his attire is splendid. He has built a church for the villagers, and attends Mass in state on Sundays, with an escort of two game-keepers carrying loaded muskets. He exacts all feudal rights and privileges as a landlord. He is always ill, or ailing, and yet an indefatigable worker, with an activity and liveliness of mind and intellect of a young man. His temper is variable. He is by turns capricious, obstinate, irascible, passionate, and revengeful. His reputation for avarice is undeserved, but, on the other hand, he is often very liberal and generous; though, being a man of great business capacity, he administers his affairs with practical common sense, and will not allow himself to be cheated of a farthing.

His writings continued to make more and more stir in the world of letters, and he was to a great extent the arbiter of intellectual thought all over Europe during the last twenty years of his life. He hailed the advent of Louis XVI. to the throne of France with joy, believing a new and enlightened régime was about to begin.

Pressure was put upon him on all sides to return to Paris, Queen Marie Antoinette herself interceded with the King to give the required permission for the exile’s reception at Court, and in February 1778, Voltaire quitted Ferney and arrived in Paris on the evening of the 10th of that month. He had been an exile for twenty-nine years. From this time until his death his existence was one perpetual ovation. The excitement of this round of entertainments and receptions—which culminated, when after a performance of his new tragedy Irene, his bust was crowned upon the stage of the Théâtre Français—was too much for his aged feeble frame to support, and taken suddenly ill he expired on May 30, 1778, aged eighty-four and three months. He desired to receive the last Sacraments, but when the priest arrived the patient was already unconscious. He had, however, confessed himself to the Abbé Gauthier, an ex-Jesuit, and received the Communion on the previous March 2, when he signed a retractation of his deistic and infidel opinions. He added—“I shall die adoring God, loving my friends, and detesting superstition of every kind.”

Voltaire was buried in the Abbey of Scellières, where his body lay until it was removed to the Panthéon by the order of the Convention.

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FOOTNOTES

[1] See Appendix.

[2] These articles have since 1802 increased a hundredfold in value.—[Ed.]

[3] This bird is undoubtedly a Penguin.

[4] Probably an albatross.

[5] Italian or rather Corsican pronunciation.

[6] This statue is the celebrated dying Gladiator immortalised by Byron.

[7] Chauvilet.

[8] I must here relate two very extraordinary circumstances respecting the younger Sheares, whom I described in Letter XII. as a charming young man and the admirer of Mlle. Théronne (Théroigne). During the King’s trial he sat near me, and was so extremely affected he shed tears, observing at the same time that the French would dishonour their name and the cause of freedom by this proceeding.

Some days later we visited Versailles together, and as we were contemplating the scenery of the beautiful garden at Petit Trianon, laid out by the Queen, he went to the top of the look-out, fell upon one knee, and exclaimed, drawing a dirk: “By heaven! I’ll thrust this dirk into the heart of the man who shall dare to propose the least injury to Marie Antoinette.” His brother, who was of a more cool and less enthusiastic temperament, immediately observed, “You had better set off post to Paris and take her out of the Temple.” It may appear incredible to those who have been unconnected with any of the agents of those convulsions which have disturbed the world for the last twelve years, that men previously distinguished for the sensibility of their natures and for their humanity, have proved, when immersed in the Revolution whirlpool, the most cruel and inexorable of incarnate devils. Carrier, Robespierre, Foquet-Tinville, and most of those exterminating furies who thinned the best part of the population of France, are instances in point.

[9] A peculiar motive, which I shall not here explain, obliges me to omit the insertion of the case alluded to, but I have given the beginning, which contains an account of Mr. Paine’s mode of life before he was sent to prison, and the conclusion.

[10] This passage and the following, which I have marked in italics, deserves the solemn reflection of every one who formerly entertained a favourable prepossession in behalf of the French Revolution.

[11] At this period the French talked of the “Rights of Man,” of the Republic one and indivisible, democratic and imperishable; and branded English people with the epithets of English slaves, serfs of George, &c. &c.

[12] Of the Committee of Public Safety, at that time the executive power of France in every sense of the word. For the benefit of the Great Nation they pocketed £400 for signing these very passports, permitting two of the “serfs of George and agents of Pitt” to escape from France.

[13] So that the £400 these Public Safety scoundrels had touched would have caused their murder had they delayed their departure for a few hours, as Barrère wisely observed, “dead men tell no tales”—it would have been vain to plead the bribe; this plea itself would have been such an outrage to the Majesty of the Republic that it alone would have satisfied the consciences of the jury of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

[14] The use of packs of cards with figures of royal personages, i.e., the kings and queens of hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades, were forbidden by the revolutionary authorities as being emblems of royalty, and those who used them were condemned as Royalists.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.

2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the original.

3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

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Table of Contents

- FRANCE IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWO
- INTRODUCTION BY RICHARD DAVEY
- I ARRIVAL AT CALAIS
- II CHARACTER OF THE CITIZENS OF CALAIS
- III MODE OF TRAVELLING IN FRANCE

- IV JOURNEY TO AMIENS, WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE PRESENT STATE OF THE COUNTRY

- V DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS, AND HAPPY RELEASE FROM THE “LION D’OR”

- VI JOURNEY TO CHANTILLY, AND DESCRIPTION OF THAT PLACE

- VII JOURNEY TO S. DENYS, DESCRIPTION OF THAT PLACE AND THE FEUDAL CASTLE OF ECOUEN. ARRIVAL IN PARIS

- VIII A DESCRIPTION OF THE MODE

- IX ATTENDANCE UPON THE MINISTER OF POLICE

- X GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRESENT STATE OF FRANCE

- XI DESCRIPTION OF LONGCHAMPS. BOIS DE BOULOGNE AND THE BOULEVARDS

- XII GARDEN OF THE TUILERIES. FOUNDATIONS OF THE REPUBLIC. ANECDOTE OF MLLE. THÉROUANNE. KNIGHTS OF THE POIGNARD. NATIONAL CONVENTION. TRIAL OF LOUIS XVI. ATTEMPT TO SAVE HIM

- XIII GARDEN OF THE PALAIS ROYALE. MANNERS OF THE PEOPLE

- XIV EXCURSION TO VERSAILLES

- XV ACCOUNT OF AN ESTABLISHMENT AT CHAILLOT FOR THE RECEPTION OF THE AGED AND DESTITUTE

- XVI GARDEN OF PLANTS. GALLERY OF NATURAL HISTORY. PHILOSOPHICAL LECTURES

- XVII THE ARSENAL. SITE OF THE BASTILLE. FAUBOURG STE. ANTOINE. THE DONJON DE VINCENNES. SHORT ACCOUNT OF FRANÇOIS DE NEUFCHÂTEAU. THE TEMPLE

- XVIII CELEBRATION OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL BONAPARTE’S CONCORDAT WITH THE POPE, AND OF THE GENERAL PEACE PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. ILLUMINATION OF PARIS

- XIX THEATRES. OPERA BUFFA. CORONATION OF PAESIELLO

- XX REVIEW OF THE CONSULAR GUARD. CONVERSATION WITH ONE OF THE HEADS OF THE REPUBLIC, RESPECTING BONAPARTE

- XXI VISIT TO DAVID. ACCOUNT OF HIS PAINTINGS.

- XXII EXCURSION TO RINCY. AMUSEMENTS OF THE VILLAGES ON SUNDAY EVENING

- XXIII THE PANTHEON AND ITS LIBRARY. HALLE AU BLED. THE SORBONNE. OBSERVATIONS

- XXIV EXCURSION TO ST. CLOUD. PORCELAIN MANUFACTORY AT SÈVE. A DUEL

- XXV ESTABLISHMENTS FOR PUBLIC INSTRUCTIONS. THE MILITARY SCHOOL. THE CHAMPS DE MARS. THE GOBELIN MANUFACTORY. THE HÔTEL DE VILLE AND THE GARDE MEUBLE

- XXVI THE CONSERVATORY OF ARTS AND MACHINES

- XXVII THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE

- XXVIII THE CENTRAL MUSÉE DES ARTS. THE GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE.

- XXIX THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES AT THE CENTRAL MUSEUM OF ARTS

- XXX MUSEUM OF FRENCH MONUMENTS

- XXXI THE NATIONAL LIBRARY

- Ballade.

- XXXII HUMANE INSTITUTIONS: THE HOSPITAL OF INVALIDES

- XXXIII HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued SOUP ESTABLISHMENTS

- XXXIV HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued LA SALPÊTRIÈRE. HÔTEL DIEU. HÔPITAL DE JESUS, DE LA CHARITÉ, DE LA PITIÉ. THE FOUNDLING SOCIETY

- XXXV HUMANE INSTITUTIONS—continued NATIONAL INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE ABBÉ SICARD. THE SAUVAGE D’AVEYRON

- XXXVI ECONOMICAL ESTABLISHMENTS. PROGRESSIVE ANNUITY FUND. SOCIETY FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIONAL INDUSTRY

- XXXVII THE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE SEINE. GENERAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF AGRICULTURE IN FRANCE

- XXXVIII THE POST OFFICE. HALLS OF THE LEGISLATIVE BODIES. COURTS OF JUSTICE. THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON REVIVED

- THE LEGISLATIVE BODY.

- XXXIX NEWSPAPERS. CHARACTERS OF THOSE CONCERNED IN THEM

- XL PHILOSOPHICAL, LITERARY AND OTHER PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS

- XLI THOMAS PAINE. JACK BARLOW. THE ABBÉ COSTI. DR. SUDAEUR

- XLII HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. MADAME TALLIEN. KOSCIUSKO

- CONCLUSION
- APPENDIX
- APPENDIX
- FOOTNOTES
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE